Ivy nodded.
Suddenly the waitress appeared. Ivy ordered a burger, and Olivia asked for a Greek salad with extra tomatoes.
After the waitress was gone, Olivia said, “What happened to ‘you’ll never make it past my friends’?”
“I’m willing to take that risk,” said Ivy. “Apparently, my friends don’t know me very well anyway. Head of decorations?” She rolled her eyes.
Olivia thought for a moment. She had to admit, being Ivy at yesterday’s meeting had been great fun.
Ivy said, “There are only two more meetings, right?”
“Uh-huh, plus the actual decorating before the ball.” This could work, she thought.
“Then that’s the plan,” Ivy said decisively. She flashed that fake mean squint of hers. “You better make me look good.”
“For sure,” Olivia said distractedly. She was already thinking about how she needed to get started on ideas for the next meeting on Friday.
Friday! she thought with a jolt. “I can’t do it!” she blurted. “The meetings are on Fridays, and I have cheerleading practice on Fridays!”
“I know,” said Ivy, nodding calmly.
“Please, Ivy. I mean, I know I messed up, but if I don’t show at the practices I’ll never make the squad!”
“I know,” Ivy repeated.
“I really, really, really, really, really want to be a Devils cheerleader,” Olivia said. “You—”
“Olivia,” Ivy interrupted, “I’m going to go to your cheerleading practices for you.”
Olivia was shocked. “You’re kidding,” she said at last.
“I’m dead serious,” Ivy replied, and she looked it.
That’s a terrible idea! thought Olivia. She shook her head briskly. “Talking to a jock at lunch and fooling Charlotte is easy compared to cheering, Ivy. Girls train all year for tryouts. I mean, cheering is totally hard.”
“Who made the squad in sixth grade?” Ivy demanded.
The waitress set their food down on the table. “Besides,” Ivy went on, “it’s not as if it would be for the actual tryout. You’ll still get to make the squad all on your own.”
Olivia hesitated.
Ivy leaned forward, her burger in one hand. “Olivia, you got me into this mess,” she said in a low voice. “Now you have to get me out of it.”
“But—” Olivia began.
“The only butt,” interrupted Ivy, “is going to be yours, in the seat, at those meetings.” She took a big bite of her burger.
“But I thought you hated cheerleading,” Olivia persisted.
“I do,” admitted Ivy with her mouth full. “But I hate party planning more.”
Olivia thought about it while she started eating her salad. It was her fault that Ivy was on the planning committee, and she owed it to her sister to make things right. “I’ll do it,” she said at last, “but only if you’ll practice with me every day after school. We’re going to train together.”
“Absolutely,” said Ivy without hesitating.
“I mean it,” Olivia said seriously. “You’ve got to be squad material if you’re going to pretend to be me.”
“You bet,” Ivy agreed.