Cutting Up The Competition (Horror High #2) Read Free Page B

“We can be besties, and cheer buddies!” she exclaimed, grinning wildly.
    “Dakota’s on the squad too,” I said, mostly talking to myself.
    How was this going to work? If my best friend and new friend were arch-nemeses, and I was caught in the middle, then this couldn’t bode well for me.
    That’s ridiculous , I thought instantly. We’re not in third grade; we’re sophomores now, for goodness sake! I shouldn’t have to pick sides . But that’s when I saw Dakota and Sydney glaring at me from across the lunchroom. You’d think I’d killed someone by the dirty looks they were sending. I suddenly realized that just because I didn’t have to pick sides, didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to make me…

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    My last classes of the day were a series of blurred events; my garbled attempts at reciting the French alphabet, my loathing of all things that have to do with line segments, rays, and types of angles, and my favorite—please note my sarcasm here—the effects of European colonization on the States.
    By the time the final bell rang, bringing its usual relief to all students alike, I felt sleepy and irritable. Not to mention the fact that the entire school felt like one huge sweatbox, my paper-thin t-shirt stuck to my chest as I made my way from my locker to the gym for tryouts.
    I should have been more exuberant about the upcoming season and the tryouts that lay ahead, but I was dreading a run-in with Dakota and Sydney, and also my new friend, Winter. I was walking against the foot traffic, students scampering down the hallways, headed out to either their own personal vehicles or to catch the bus. But I was headed for the gym.
    Students brushed past me rudely, their heavy backpacks banging against my outer thighs painfully. Since it was day number one of the school year, everyone was wearing the best of their new school gear. I saw lots of skinny jeans, flashy leggings, and every color of Uggs you could imagine.
    At my old school, we had to wear these wooly, school-marmish uniforms. At least at Harrow High, we have options when it comes to school dress, I reminded myself. There was a code, of course; there always is. But for the most part, Principal Barlow was pretty easygoing when it came to enforcing the dress code rules. And speaking of Principal Barlow, her daughter was standing at the outer edges of the gym entrance, smiling at me brightly.
    Brittani Barlow is a total fruitcake—and that’s putting it lightly. She’s an overachiever when it comes to everything related to academics or sports, but she also has about as much emotional intelligence as a pet rock. Last year, no one was surprised when she made the team. Not only was she Principal’s Barlow’s daughter, but she was also a damn good cheerleader. However, it was her personality that cost her a spot on the team because she got caught purposefully dropping other cheerleaders in stunts just to lower the field of competitors. After her removal from the team last year, I was a little taken aback by her presence near the gym ten minutes before tryouts.
    “Hey, Amanda!” Brittani squealed, walking straight toward me. She clutched me in an awkward embrace before I had a chance to pull away.
    “Hi,” I answered unsurely, making it sound more like a question than a greeting. “I’m not trying to be rude, but what are you doing at tryouts, Brittani?”
    The smile on her face didn’t flicker or fade. “Oh, well…I’m trying out again this year. The principal gave me permission to try again, as long as I’m on my best behavior!” She flashed that wooden smile of hers.
    “The principal ? You mean your mother ?” I asked bitterly. Brittani let out a creepy bubble of laughter, and said, “Well, of course I’m talking about my mother. I don’t see any other principals around here, do you?” She giggled.
    “I don’t have time for this.” I pushed past her, heading through the heavy, metal doors