She paused, aghast at a sudden thought. "You're not a cheerleader, are you?"

"No," I said. "Never have been, never will be."

"Oh, good!" she cried, with obvious and immense relief. "I mean... not that there's anything wrong with cheerleaders!"

---

 

6. The Manly Thing
 

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked her for the third time.

"Yeah," she pouted, stretching the "yeah" into two long syllables. "I'm fine. I always do things like that. I think I have everything in hand, and then I just spazz out. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" I asked her. "You saved me from that crowd of hyenas. It was amazing, the way you bossed them around. Even my mother was impressed."

"Really?" she said, brightening up. "Thanks! It's nice of you to say that!"

I was going to say that I wasn't being "nice," it was just the plain truth, but she spoke first.

"Do you mind checking my clothes again, to make sure nothing's ripped or raggedy or ruined?"

"Sure," I smiled, and Wiggy got up, awkwardly half-standing inside the car, turning every which way.

"You're good!" I announced, after brushing off an imaginary bit of dirt.

"Thanks," she smiled.

"So...," I prompted, "Cheerleaders?"

"Oh, yeah!" she said, remembering. "This trip is for the cheerleaders, and no, I am not a cheerleader." She paused, aghast at a sudden thought. "You're not a cheerleader, are you?"

"No," I said. "Never have been, never will be."

"Oh, good!" she cried, with obvious and immense relief. "I mean... not that there's anything wrong with cheerleaders! One wouldn't want to stereotype!"

"Of course not," I agreed.

"But they are so stupid," Wiggy confided in a low tone. She peered over the top of her glasses to see whether the driver heard. He wasn't listening. "I mean..." she huffed.

While she was talking, Wiggy pulled a piece of paper from her bag. She glanced at it before she handed it to me. "Anyway," she said, "here is the roster."

Across the top, in big dark letters, were the words: THE AMAZONS.

"Amazons?" I asked.

"It's the name of the squad," Wiggy explained. "National small-squad champs. Small squads are up to ten members. We have nine."

"Does that count you?"

"Pull-eeze! I'm the manager! Do I look like a cheerleader?"

"Oh! But, hey — aren't you guys from an all-girl school? Who do you cheer for?"

"Yes, we're from St. Oda's, and yes, it's an all-girl school. The Amazons cheer for St. Servaas', which is a all-boy school."

"Okay," I said. Then I looked over the roster Wiggy had given me, and here is what it said:

Captain: Mirina Manley

Tilda Knickerbocker (Knickers)
Iske Hoogaboom (Boogers)
Renske Onderdonk (Donkey)
Katrien Keese (Cakey)
Jetske de Graaf (Graffy)
Veerle de Groot (Grooty)
Romy Wubbels (Bubbles)
Belle Dubois (Ding-Dong)

Manager: Hedwig Wetherwax (Wiggy)

I felt a bit disoriented, reading that list. First of all, the names where unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Most of them, anyway. And then...

"Wiggy, these things in parentheses... are they..."

"Nicknames? Yes."

"But... but... these nicknames aren't just bad... they're mean!"

Wiggy shrugged. "It's part of being on the team. Mirina gives everybody a nickname, and it's like, uh... a red badge of courage, or something."

"Ugh. And how come Mirina doesn't have a nickname? Is she special?"

Wiggy pursed her lips. "Yes, Mirinia is special. I'd better give you the lowdown on *her* before we get to the airport." She glanced at her watch.

"I mean...," I went on, scanning the list again, "the only half-way normal nickname on here is Bubbles. No offense."

"None taken. Ironically, Bubbles is the only one who won't be here," Wiggy told me. "She's the one who got sick and had the idea of your going instead."

"Hmm. Can you give me her address, so I can write her a nice thank-you note?"

"Sure." She smiled. "So, anyway, about Mirina. Everything begins with Mirina, everything revolves around Mirina..."

"Why?" What was odd was that Wiggy wasn't complaining or mocking. She was just describing.

"She had the idea for the cheerleading squad in the first place. She had the idea that it stay a small squad, so it could compete against small squads. She had the idea for the name, and her father is the one who supports the team."

"Supports as in gives money?"

Wiggy gave an emphatic "Yes!" She gestured at the car, which was quite luxurious and roomy. "He's paying for this car, for example. He's paying for the trip. He plays for the uniforms (plural), the workout clothes, the jackets, transportation, special coaches, everything."

"Wow."

"Yes. And let me tell you, 'wow' doesn't begin to cover it. As long as Mirina is captain of the team, the money keeps coming, for pretty much anything we can justify as cheer-related."

"And is Mirina any good?"

"As a cheerleader? Yes, she's very good. And she's a natural leader. I mean, like I said, she's not smart, but she knows how to get people to do what she wants."

"And why are *you* involved, Wiggy?"

"Me?" she smiled coyly. "I'm involved because I've found a way to get something out of it."

"And that is?"

She smirked a little. "This is just between us, right? Well, I'm the manager, which means I get to book competitions. I find them, and I book them. If I can, I send us to places that *I* want to go, and I schedule side-trips to see the things that I want to see. I tell the cheerleaders that the side-trips are the educational or cultural part of the trip, so they think it's the school's idea."

"And so?"

"Well! It makes them not want to go! They usually skip the side-trips, and I get to go by myself!"

I pictured Wiggy being driven somewhere in a car just like this, a doorman helping her out, Wiggy eating an elegant lunch, going to a show...

"And it turns out that I need a very slick computer to keep track of equipment, bookkeeping, the schedule... and morpegs."

"Morpegs?"

"M-M-O-R-P-G? Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games," she laughed.

"What do online games have to do with cheerleading?" I asked, more than a little confused.

"Nothing!" she said, tossing her head a little. "It's what *I* get out of cheerleading."

"Oh!" I said. "Now I get it!"

"Yes," she agreed. "But like I said: don't tell anyone."

"I won't," I laughed. I was really beginning to like Wiggy. "But, wait... there was something I wanted to ask you, Wiggy... it was... oh, yeah! Does Mirina have a nickname? Or is she too special?"

"No," Wiggy smiled. "She has many nicknames, all variants of the same idea, and she hates them all, so you could say she has the *worst* nickname.

"Her last name is Manley, so we call her her manliness, or the manly one, or the manly girl, but mostly we call her your manliness or her manliness."

"And is she manly?" I asked.

"She was born Manley," Wiggy giggled. "But no, she's not manly at all. She's very girly. She hates the manly thing, but she can't really object, because she gave those nasty nicknames to everybody else."

"Yeah," I said. "I don't think I can call a girl Donkey or Boogers." I looked at the list again. "The name 'Knickers' isn't so bad..."

Wiggy giggled like mad. "You know what? Knickers means 'panties' in England."

"Really?" I asked. "Why?"

Wiggy shrugged.

"Do the girls know that?"

"No," Wiggy replied, "they have no idea. Which reminds me: I keep looking for a competition in the UK that we could go to, but it never works out. But, listen, don't ever call them the girls. You always have to refer to them as The Amazons, or just Amazons, or you'll get a lecture."

"Okay," I agreed. It seemed like a small price to pay for such an expensive trip.

"Anyway," Wiggy said, "The girls will *want* you to call them by those nicknames. Mirina's probably going to give you one, too, come to think of it."

"Hey," I said, gently teasing, "You just called them 'girls'."

"Yeah," she agreed, "but not to their faces. I only do that when I'm mad at them."
 

---

 

By the time we reached the airport, Wiggy and I were talking like old friends. The poor driver had to put up with our shrieks of laughter and my cries of astonishment.

Wiggy gave me the lowdown on all of the girls, but I kept mixing them up. I did get a few salient points, though: Graffy and Grooty looked like twins, although they weren't related. All of the girls were extremely feminine, tall, blonde, and slim. "You and me," Wiggy said, gesturing between us, "we'll be like what's wrong with this picture when we stand next to them."

She explained that all the names were Dutch. "Everybody's of Dutch descent where we come from. Graffy and Grooty speak Dutch, and Cakey can understand it. Ding-Dong says she understands it, but that is yet to be demonstrated."

"And Ding-Dong is the dumb one?" I asked. Then I blushed. "I'm really embarrassed, talking about them like this, and using those awful nicknames."

Wiggy waved my objection aside. "Once you meet them, you'll see. They don't care. But yeah, Ding-Dong is naive to a point that... defies belief. Sometimes, she makes Forrest Gump seem like Einstein."

I made a face. It seemed unnecessarily cruel. Wiggy caught my expression. "I'm not being mean!" she said. "I love her to bits. She's the sweetest thing. But sometimes she makes me want to tear my hair out."

After that, we were silent for a spell. Then Wiggy began shifting around, as if she was uncomfortable. I began to wonder if she needed the bathroom, but at last she came out with it. "Marcie, I want to ask you something. It's kind of a favor, and it's a little embarrassing." She glanced at the driver and frowned.

When she didn't continue, I asked, "What is it?"

"Well, there are a lot of rooms on this ship we're going on... most of the them are for two people..."

"Are there any singles?" I asked.

She faltered. I figured that she was building up to ask if I'd room with her, but I have some privacy issues that I'm sure you can understand.

"No," she said. "There are two four-bunk rooms, and the cheerleaders will take those. The rest are all doubles.

"Anyway, there are two teachers and you and me. The four of us could each have our own room if we wanted, but..." she began twisting the heck out of a piece of cloth she was holding.

She let out a little huff of breath, and confessed everything. "Look, Marcie, I'm afraid to sleep by myself. I mean, in a room by myself. And I'm shy, so I don't like getting changed in front of other people...

"Every time we go on these trips, I'm the odd man out. I always end up in a room by myself, and I hate it! The chaperones always want their own rooms, so... We stay in these fantastic hotels, but I can't sleep! I sit in a chair all night, wrapped in a blanket with all the lights on and the TV going. It's exhausting!

"I know I'm a little neurotic, maybe, but... anyway... what I'm asking is, will you please room with me? I'll give you whatever space you need... it's just that at night, when we sleep, I want to know that somebody else is in the room with me. Will you? Please, please, please?"

I said, "Yes." If she didn't want to change in front of me, it would be easy for me to not change in front of her. Besides, if it didn't work out, I could always take one of the empty rooms.

She squealed in delight. "Oooh! Thank you thank you thank you!" She jumped to the seat next to me and squeezed me tight. I started laughing.

"I'm SO glad! I'm so relieved! Oh, my goodness! I was afraid I wouldn't get to sleep for the whole entire trip!"

"I'm glad you're so happy," I said, smiling.

"I am!" she replied. Then she stopped abruptly and looked me in the eye. With intense seriousness she said, "Don't tell the girls anything I said about being afraid, etc., etc. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Mum's the word."
 

---

 

When we arrived at the airport, we easily found the Amazons: they'd taken over a sitting area near the ticket counters. As Wiggy and I walked up, we saw a boy and two men trip over some bags and go sprawling because they were staring at the pack of young blondes.

If I was a boy, I'd have been staring, too. They were all beautiful, tall, slim, poised...

At the same time, they were all very nice, and — excepting Mirina — didn't seem vain at all.

Wiggy hurried through the introductions. In addition to the eight Amazons, there were two teachers, also blonde and good looking, but with a few more years and a few more pounds than the girls. I knew I'd have to learn the names all over again. The only ones I got were Ding-Dong, who seemed very sweet, and Grooty and Graffy, who were unbelievably identical! ("They're lucky they don't look like either of their fathers!" Wiggy whispered to me with a smirk. I thought about that remark for a long time after, and I'm still not convinced that it makes any sense.)

Of course, Mirina stood out, but I'll talk about her in a moment. She welcomed me with a smile and said, "We're all very glad that you could come with us."

In the meantime, Wiggy fished in her bag, which was like a small, flat version of a postman's pouch. She pulled out a folder and said, "Let's talk inside. We have to check in and get through security." Then she turned and started walking toward the check-in line.

Everyone, teachers included, trooped behind her.

The line was unbelievably short. There were only two people in front of us. I noticed that it was the line for first-class passengers, which made me raise my eyebrows, but I didn't say anything. Mirina's father must be loaded! If he could spring for a trip like this...

The girls chatted with me and each other while we waited. Wiggy looked in her folder, which had everyone's tickets and various printed lists. She glanced the faces of all the ticket agents and swallowed. The look on her face reminded me of the look she had as she bumped down the stairs. Although she was acting as the adult for everyone in our group, I realized that her confidence level was not as high as she wanted us all to think.

Even though Wiggy is two years older than me, she's two inches shorter, and right now she really looked like a little girl.

"Hey, Marcie?" she asked in a soft voice that no one else could hear, "Do you want to sit next to me on the plane?"

"Yes," I replied, "I was hoping I could."

When I said that, a smile lit up her face. "Okay, good! I'm going to check in everybody else first, and you and me last, okay?"

I nodded. Just before our turn came, Wiggy turned to the Amazons and said, "I'll call you up in pairs. Just stay in line until I call you. Have your photo ids ready. If another ticket agent is free, let the people behind pass you."

All the girls and the two teachers nodded.

"Come with me?" Wiggy asked shyly. And so I did. The two of us went to the counter.

"Hi," Wiggy said. "We're a group of twelve, and I'd like to check everyone in in pairs, if that's alright."

"Are you all first-class passengers?"

"Yes," Wiggy replied without looking up. Then, glancing over her shoulder, she said, "Graffy and Grooty."

As the two girls trotted obediently to the counter, Wiggy stood on tiptoe and placed their tickets in front of the agent.

"These two would like to sit together, and—" consulting her sheet, she said, "Ms. de Groot would like the window."

And so it went. She called everyone up, pair by pair, announced their seating preference, and confirmed that vegetarian meals had been ordered for two of our party. All of them seemed quite used to having Wiggy direct them about. They waited exactly where she told them to wait, until all of us had been checked in.

She led the way through security, and then to the gate.

Once there, the Amazons took over a section of the waiting area, spread out their belongings, and sat down.

"Wiggy, now what do we do?" Ding-Dong asked.

"We wait until they start boarding the plane," Wiggy replied.

"How will we know?" Ding-Dong continued.

"It will be in about twenty minutes," Wiggy said. "I'll tell you when. Don't worry."

Mirina waited a moment, to be sure that Wiggy was finished, then she smiled at me.

"Now, Marcie, I'm sure that Wiggy told you something about the Amazons on your way here," she said. "But now it's time that *I* took over."

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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