What I found was something way different. And challenging in an intriguing kind of way.
The packet was six pages long and filled with things like, "Suggest a good-luck game-day note for the volleyball teams," "Create a costume design using a long-sleeve unitard for the base, and only adding costume parts that can be quickly taken off or put on in between dance routines" and "Suggest a Charmers Spring Show theme, then design coordinating stage decoration."
I had plenty of ideas for the application. But I had only four days to get it all on paper in some kind of way that wouldn't look like a kindergartner did it.
I came back to the kitchen, where Nanna was busy prepping some of the freshly cut herbs for use in her various teas. I held up the application and winced. "Uh, you know how you offered to help?"
Nanna was true to her word. With her help, I managed to finish my application notebook just in time for Friday's deadline. But it was close, with a few late nights thrown in at the end to make sure I got it done in time. And I was pretty sure I'd never get out the glue and glitter from under my fingernails.
Mrs. Daniels had said in the packet's directions that she was looking for creativity. Well, she'd gotten it. I'd done every thing possible to demonstrate my creativity in that notebook, from shaping it like the Charmers knee-high white boots to using glitter paint and including paper dolls complete with changeable costume designs. The paper dolls were Mom's idea; hopefully the director would think they were creative instead of childish or crazy.
My name and pre-drill class number were on the cover, so I felt safe leaving the completed notebook on the director's desk after school on Friday.
Then all I could do was wait until Monday's pre-drill class.
Where I found a list of three names posted on the dance-room door under the heading Next Year's Charmers Managers. Two girls' names I didn't recognize topped the list.
And my name was at the bottom.
I should have been excited. After all, Nanna's and my hard work on the application notebook had won me a spot on the Charmers team, one that the vampire council shouldn't have a problem with. And being a Charmers manager might even turn out to be fun.
But in that moment, I didn't feel much of anything. I'd become a Charmers manager. Right now, all that meant was that I'd have something to do with my free time next year.
The weekend after school ended, I met the other two Charmers managers for the first time at the sophomore Charmers summer kick-off party. All thirteen new Charmers plus the managers had crowded into a small, two-story lake house owned by Bethany Brookes's parents on Lake Jacksonville.
I had only been to parties with my best friends and had no clue how to make small talk with strangers. But after introducing themselves, the other two managers, Keisha and Vicki, seemed as uncomfortable to be there as I was. Somehow, that made me feel a little less out of place.
When everyone trooped outside to the private pier, I was worried that I'd be the only one to sit in the shady area where the shoreline trees overhung the pier and lake house. All the dancers chose to strip down to their bikinis and roast themselves on towels by the water. But Vicki and Keisha sat beside me in the shade, too. And like me, they also opted to keep on their T-shirts and shorts over their swimsuits. Thank goodness. What with my natural paleness and tendency to burn at least once every summer, no way would I be baring any more skin here. Besides, I wouldn't want to accidentally blind anyone today. Everyone else looked like they spent their lives in a tanning bed.
While Keisha and Vicki chatted about their families, I overheard bits of conversations from the others on the pier. I'd expected everyone to be chatting about the upcoming sophomore year and what being a Charmer would be like. Instead, all they talked about was boys, who was dating whom, which couples had broken up and which girls in school slept around. At first, it made me tense. How would I ever manage to fit in on this team when I wasn't one of the dancers and I'd never even been on a date, much less had a boyfriend?
But after a few minutes, I realized listening to the Charmers was like listening to thirteen Michelles all vying to share the best tidbit of gossip. That made me smile and relax a little. After all, I didn't usually know half the people Michelle gossiped about every day at lunch, either, but she was pretty entertaining to listen to.
I learned more in that hour about my fellow classmates than I'd ever wanted to know. Just wait till I could relay it all to Michelle; she'd be thrilled for weeks.
A low buzzing in the distance on the lake changed the group's general topic of conversation as five boys approached on Jet Skis.
I had to fight hard not to laugh as the girls changed their poses to ones they seemed to think were sexier, their hands darting up to readjust their bikinis and smooth their hairstyles. As if they'd actually had a single strand out of place.
When the Jet Skis were a few yards away, several of the girls suddenly found their conversation partners terribly funny. But their natural giggles had changed to high-pitched, fake laughter.
Did I act that way around Tristan?
The boys pulled up to the pier. But no way could I keep watching the scene unfold and not laugh out loud. So I focused on Keisha and Vicki again instead, who had somehow gotten into a hot debate about whether wearing pink helped support sexist stereotypes. Judging by the conversation and the fact that Vicki was wearing a hot-pink bikini, it seemed Vicki loved the color and Keisha hated it.
"Hey, Savannah," a male voice called out.
I looked up. Greg Stanwick floated three feet away from me on a now-silent Jet Ski that rocked with the waves against the pier. His black hair was slicked back from his grinning face.
He hadn't spoken to me in months, not since the day we'd met last spring. Why would he be speaking to me now? Especially when he had thirteen other girls, most in revealing bikinis, whom he could talk to instead.
"Um, hi," I replied.
"Do you remember me? We met in the cafeteria a while back." He flashed me a huge grin that begged to be returned.
"Sure. Greg, right?"
"Yeah, Greg Stanwick. So how've you been?"
"Good, and you?"
"Doing great. Getting ready to graduate next year. Still playing soccer."
I nodded politely, wondering where in the world he was going with all of this.
"Is this party for something special?" His gaze flicked over the group then returned to me.