Ivy leaped to her feet. “No!” she cried. “I mean, yes!” She shook her head as if it were surrounded by bees. “I mean, I can’t dance!”
Brendan’s face lit up like a full moon. “Neither can I,” he said. Then he cocked his head and asked, “But have you ever tried dancing with someone else who can’t dance?”
Ivy shook her head.
“It’s not so bad,” Brendan told her. “Look.” He took Ivy’s hands and placed them on his shoulders; then he put his hands gently on her hips.
Ivy felt like she was touching one of those static electricity things at the science museum. Energy coursed through her, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Neither of them moved.
“What are we doing?” Ivy murmured at last.
Brendan looked deep into her eyes. “We’re not dancing,” he whispered.
They stood there like that forever, or at least until Ivy heard the bell for second period ring. “Then what happened?” Olivia asked, bending forward and putting her palms down on the cool grass. She could feel the muscles stretch in the backs of her legs.
Ivy pulled her foot up behind her. “I was late for art,” she replied coyly.
Olivia thought maybe Ivy was blushing, but it might have been the sun. Finally she gave up trying to tell. “Well,” she said, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet, “I don’t know if that’s like the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard . . . or the weirdest.”
“Shut up!” Ivy cried.
“Not dancing?” Olivia giggled. Her sister was so smitten!
“Stop it!” Ivy said. “It was very ...sweet.”
“I may not have known you long,” Olivia said with a grin, “but I already know that ‘sweet’ is not a word my sister would normally use.”
“Sweet,” her sister repeated tenderly.
Olivia grabbed Ivy’s hand playfully. “Well,” she said, “you certainly have reason to . . . CHEER!” She raised both their arms into the air.
Ivy groaned.
Olivia silenced her with a double clap. “Okay, let’s get started!” She paced in front of her sister like a drill sergeant. “What’s the most important thing to remember when you cheer?”
Ivy thought for a second. “Don’t get a wedgie?”
“No,” Olivia said. She spoke slowly and carefully, “Never stop smiling!”
“Right.” Ivy frowned.
“Let me see it,” Olivia commanded.
“Do I have to? Nobody’s even watching,” Ivy complained.
“Exactly,” Olivia said.
Ivy huffed and contorted her mouth into a crooked smile that looked like a four-year-old had dragged a marker across her face. She raised her eyebrows in defiance.
“I bet you don’t know the second most important thing to remember either.” Olivia paused for dramatic effect. “Never, ever touch another cheerleader’s . . .”
Her sister’s black-lined eyes widened expectantly.
“Poms!”
Ivy’s mouth burst into a huge grin.