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photographed by every paper in the area, and generally be the biggest deal Carol, Arkansas, had seen in a long time. We’d prepped a dance routine more than worthy of the event. The cheerleaders trying to take over halftime was tantamount to replacing a famous-name Broadway star with some no-name understudy with badly conditioned hair.
      It just wasn’t going to happen, not if we had anything to say about it.
      “What?” Monica’s ice-blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
      “It’s already been decided.” Dana flipped her blond ponytail and grinned, making her twin dimples pop. “We’re going to be the ones performing at halftime this basketball season.”
      “No, you’re the ones who’ve been smoking crack,” Alana said, stepping up her insult game. “The pom squad owns halftime. Everyone knows that.”
      “Not Principal Watkins or the booster club,” Dana said with a smug little grin. “They agree with the rest of us and would like to see something a little more wholesome on our court.”
      “What is that supposed to mean?” London asked.
      “It means we’re tired of watching a bunch of stripper wannabes roll around on the floor for five minutes every game,” Kimberly said.
      “It’s trashy,” her twin, Kate, seconded. “Boys from other schools think Carol girls are easy.”
      “It’s no wonder.” Dana’s eyes raked over every one of us, silently judging our bare midriffs and tight spandex pants. “The Slut Squad gives us all a bad rep.”
      Oh no she didn’t.
      Moving with a single-minded purpose, the rest of the pom squad filed in behind Monica, lending our silent support to our captain. If they wanted to rumble, we’d rumble, by God. I’d never scratched faces or pulled hair before, but I was getting in the mood to.
      Or maybe Monica and I could try out some of our new moves on the platinum brats. Our Enforcer training had included hours of training in self-defense and combat strategy as well as spell work. It seemed a shame for all that to go to waste now that the black-magically raised zombie situation around Carol was under control.
      “So you’re telling me Principal Watkins and the boosters did this without even notifying the captain of the pom squad?” Monica asked, her voice surprisingly cool and controlled. “I find that hard to believe.”
      “Believe what you want. We’ll all see I’m telling the truth come Saturday when we take the court at halftime.” Dana nodded her head in that twitchy way she did right after giving the “ready, okay” that signaled her minions should begin a new cheer. “Come on, girls. We’d better go-Aaron said he found a top-secret place for us to practice.”
      Aaron was the only dude cheerleader as well as the newest member of the squad. He was a junior, vice president of the Honor Society, cute in an all-American kind of way, and had naturally blond hair, so it wasn’t like he could help fitting in with the clones. But he was obviously a passenger on the cheerleader cruise liner of evil if he was scoping out “top-secret” practice locations.
      What was with that? Like we were going to steal one of their lame routines? Between us we had over fifty years of combined dance training. We were the experts- they were the pretenders to the throne.
      “What are we going to do?” Alana asked, as soon as the cheerleaders from heck had vacated the locker room.
      “You’re going to hit the old gym and practice,” Monica said. “I’m going to hit Principal Watkins’s office and remind him how things work here at CHS.”
      “Don’t you think you should put on a shirt first?” I asked, then immediately wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “I mean, if what she was saying about Watkins is true, then wouldn’t it pay to tone it down?”
      Monica glared while I did my best not to cringe. Geez, she still scared me, even though I had stuff on her that would keep