Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) by Carissa Ann Lynch

last practice today, and eating well would help.
    I gave the cashier two dollars and eighty-three cents, and I stepped into the main lunchroom, which was filled with rows and rows of lunch tables. Now that I was friendless, I knew what it felt like to have nowhere to sit. The next time I see someone looking around for someone to sit with, I swear I’ll wave them over, because this is not a good feeling , I decided.
    Instantly, I spotted Sydney at Tasha and Genevieve’s table again. I tried to catch her eye, but she was too caught up in whatever topic they were discussing. On the other side of the room, I saw Brittani and a group of preppy girls who looked just like her. She caught me looking and waved. Yuck. That girl is crazy. I didn’t see Amanda anywhere. But that was probably a good thing.
    “Hey, you,” said a voice from behind me, causing me to jerk with surprise. Much to my delight, it was Andy from American History. “Do you want to sit with the cool kids?” He raised his eyebrows, flashing that little half-smile I couldn’t help but adore.
    “Who are these cool kids you speak of?” I asked curiously, unable to hold back a smile myself.
    “Well, it’s one cool kid, actually, and you’re looking at him! How lucky do you feel right now?”
    Andy was such a clown, but I loved the lighthearted feeling I got from just being around him. We found a semi-abandoned spot at one end of a center lunch table. He chewed with his mouth open and told cheesy jokes, but for some reason, when I was around him I forgot about everything that was bothering me. Tryouts, my failing friendships, the pressure, the psycho-breather, Teresa’s accident…
    Speaking of Teresa, she stumbled inside the lunchroom, trying to juggle the complicated task of using crutches and carrying her lunch tray simultaneously.
    She looked so pitiful, and I immediately jumped up to hurry over to her side. Taking the tray from her hands, I led her over to the table with me and Andy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
    “I’m okay. It’s just a pain using these things,” she said, nodding down at the crutches. She leaned them against the side of the table and hopped on one foot over to her seat, plopping down on the bench.
    “Is your leg broken?” I winced at her cast.
    “Only in three places,” she joked, prying open a carton of juice with her teeth.
    “I’m so sorry, Teresa.” I stared at the food on my tray, watching mac n’ cheese blur together as I fought back tears. I needed to eat, but my stomach was in knots again.
    “I’ll let you guys talk. I need to get going to my next class,” Andy said, waving at Teresa politely and winking at me.
    “See you later,” I called out after him, and I really hoped I would get to see him later.
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Teresa said, catching me by surprise.
    “I know. But I’m still sorry it happened. I hate that you got hurt…”
    “No, that’s not what I mean.” Putting her hand on my arm, she gave it a light squeeze. I set down my fork and looked at her expectantly. I was worried that I knew what was coming next…
    “I know Brittani did it on purpose. I felt her let go of my foot, and then I saw the smile on her face when I hit the floor.” I couldn’t believe she actually knew and was staying so calm about it!
    “We need to go to Coach Davis and tell her the truth,” I said, prepared to find the coach and do it right then, but Teresa just shook her head.
    “This has been a real wake up call for me, Dakota. I mean, I’ve been pretty mean to other girls over the years, and maybe if I were in Brittani’s shoes, I would have done the same thing.” She shrugged nonchalantly.
    I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just sat there staring at her. “And now Tasha and Tally won’t talk to me, just because I’m not going to be a cheerleader anymore.” She rolled her eyes angrily. Now that piece of information did not surprise me.
    “Just promise