Free Rolling Dice by Beth Reekles

to the summit of the high-school social hierarchy. I don’t want to mess it up. And they seem like nice people, taking me in without question like this. Besides, it’s not like I can afford to turn down the offer of friendship. And I know better than anyone that it’s best to stay on the right side of the popular kids.
    Once the teacher turns back to the projector screen, Tiffany rolls her eyes and carries on, lowering her voice only a little. “Of course, we’ll hang out with the rest of the jocks—and the rest of the squad, but—”
    “What squad?” I interrupt.
    She arches her eyebrows slightly. “Oh, did I forget to mention? Cheerleading squad. Every Tuesday. Coach managed to free up the afternoons.”
    “Ah,” I say, nodding.
Of course they’re cheerleaders
. “Can I take a wild guess here and say you’re head cheerleader?”
    Tiffany laughs loud enough to have the teacher turn around. “Miss Blanche, please.” Then he goes back to teaching.
    “Sadly, no. Seniors only. Ditto for co-head cheerleader. But I’ve got a pretty good shot at it next year, Coach told me.”
    “Cool.”
    I’m really glad Tiffany is being nice to me, but it makes me anxious. Like, what if I do something to mess it up? I’m not the best person when it comes to social skills. I cannot afford to screw this up.
    I know there’s that reputation popular people have: that they’re shallow, and conceited, and self-centered. But I know it’s not always true; Jenna wasn’t like that. Noteveryone fits the mold. I’m giving these people the benefit of the doubt.
    Ambling out of the Biology lab, Tiffany leads the way to the cafeteria. There’s the usual hustle and bustle of kids trying to grab their food and get a seat. There are two lines, one at each side: one for salad and sandwiches, the other for a hot meal—looks like today is taco day.
    Tiffany heads for the salad line. I’m not surprised that this is the shorter of the two. I stand there too, but I’m not hungry—all the anxiety that’s been building up has made my stomach feel unsettled. I know I should eat something, though, since I was way too nervous for breakfast, so when we get to the counter I grab an oatmeal cookie and a banana.
    Tiffany, much to my surprise, has a can of (full-fat) soda, a BLT sandwich and a Three Musketeers bar. She turns to me and says, “Don’t tell me that’s your lunch.”
    “Um, yeah.”
    “Seriously?” She goes kind of bug-eyed when I nod my head.
    “Well, what about you?” I say, nodding at hers. I would’ve thought—and call me stereotypical—that the future captain of the cheerleading squad would at least eat a healthy lunch.
    “Oh, this?” She laughs. “This is nothing. Seriously, my metabolism is so high, I could eat a Big Mac every lunch time and keep this figure. Well—with a little exercise. But that’s totally covered anyway.”
    “Lucky,” I say—and I say it enviously, but if she notices she doesn’t let on; instead, she just laughs good-naturedly. I start to think she’s really not the horrible, conceited kind of popular girl. She’s nice.
    “Summer! Marcus!” she hollers, holding her tray in one hand and waving across the cafeteria with the other.
    I recognize a guy from earlier—Kyle—coming over. Bryce joins us, along with Melissa, and some guy I haven’t met yet. I think he’s Richard—or Ricky, I suppose—since he seems to be the only guy I haven’t been introduced to yet.
    I follow them all across the huge cafeteria, feeling like the black sheep in the herd. I know people are looking over—at me. I hate it. I’m itching to get out my iPod—but I don’t want them to think I’m antisocial or anything.
    As we all drop into seats—with me on the end, opposite Ricky and next to Melissa—I get the feeling that this lunch hour is going to seem very long. I fiddle with the strap on my bag, and keep tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I’m totally flattered and more than a little excited