Free Double Threats Forever by Julie Prestsater

Five vertical banners—about twenty feet long—span the length of the floor.
    “The banners are done,” Andi says, standing up to greet us. Again, she’s doused in paint. Her pink hair is a mess, more than usual. “Keesh, check yours out, dude.” She leans in to whisper, “It’s the best one.”
    Keesh glances over at her name spelled in giant letters on a never ending piece of long white butcher paper. “Thanks, girl.”
    She’s so gonna win. She’s a soccer stud. She’s smart. She’s in ASB. And she knows everybody. And everybody loves her.
    But … if she isn’t crowned the queen, Amy better not be either. Anyone else can win but her.
    “What can we help with?” I ask Andi.
    She scans the large room. “Meg, why don’t you help Josh’s group …” and she continues doling out tasks.
    “Hey, I can help too,” Brody offers.
    “You’re a chem whiz, right?” she asks.
    “He sure is,” I answer for him. He blushes.
    “Dude, I’ve got just the job for you.”
     
    It’s rally day, baby. It’s going to be insane all day, I know it. Not only do we have to help get everything set up before school, but we’re performing as part of Keesha’s skit.
    Just call me Posh Spice. It’s a tough job being married to David Beckham, but someone has to do it.
    The theme for our homecoming festivities is famous musical groups. Keesh chose the Spice Girls. She’s going to be Scary Spice. Steph is Sporty. Andi is Ginger with her wacky hair. And Keesh surprised us all when she invited Shayna, Josh’s groupie, to be Baby Spice.
    Shay has hung out with us a few times. When she’s not making moon eyes at Josh, she’s cool. When Keesh asked her to be in her skit, she actually squealed like a little piglet and jumped up and down. I see cheerleading in her future.
    I’m gathering my clothes for the skit and for tonight’s football game when my mom knocks softly on my open bedroom door.
    “Hey, don’t forget your phone charger. I’m sure you’ll need it.”
    She’s right. I’ll be snapping pictures like crazy, along with video. It’ll probably die before school is out. I’ll charge it during Mrs. Fuller’s class.
    “Thanks, Mom. Good idea.”
    She shuffles in and sits at my desk. “Do you need any help with anything?”
    I shove my charger into the front pocket of my backpack and zip it shut. “No, I think I’m done. I’m ready to go.”
    “I was thinking.” Oh no. “Would you mind if I went to the rally? I’d really love to see you girls perform.”
    “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. That would work out perfectly. Can you take a lot of pictures?”
    My mom’s smile is bright, showing the creases at the corners of her eyes. “Of course, I can. I’m so excited. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me going.”
    “Don’t be silly. You know all my friends. You’re a cool mom. I’d be proud to show you off.”
    She stands and heads for the door.
    “Mom, wait. Just don’t wear any New Kids shirts, okay. That’s where I draw the line.”
    She laughs as she walks away but I’m totally serious. I can just imagine her showing up in a shirt with Danny Wood’s face plastered to her chest.
     
    Before the bell rings and the auditorium fills with students, Steph and I go out into the audience from the backstage dressing rooms to get a look at Andi’s vision.
    The five banners with the princess’s names on them hang down the walls from either side of the stage. The size of them is massive and they look professionally done. Not like they were made on butcher paper with poster paints and glitter.
    Onstage, the background is decorated with life-size cartoon cutouts of each of the female musical groups the princesses are representing. The Spice Girls cut-out looks larger than the others and is positioned center stage. The other groups include The Pussy Cat Dolls, The Pistol Annies, Destiny’s Child, and The Bangles (who I doubt anyone will recognize given the fact I had to ask my mom who they