The Cheerleaders of Doom

The blue orb zoomed over to him and hovered in front of his face. “Now that you’re comfortable, we should get started.”

Screwball fumed. “To counteract Gerdie Baker’s machine, I am proposing we build something of our own. I call it ‘the atomic harpoon.’ In its simplest form we’re going to use a rope of tightly packed subatomic material which we will fire at our Earth from another dimension. We will build a second harpoon, as well, that we’ll activate here. The two harpoons will reel us back into the universal constant. Once we’re back in place the crisis will be over.”

“Fascinating,” Duncan said.

“That’s an incredible understatement, Duncan. It’s nothing short of enlightened. This plan cements my standing as the most important mind in this universe … or any other!” Screwball bragged.

Duncan rolled his eyes. “How long will it take for you to build it?”

“Oh, it would take me thousands of years to build it,” Screwball said.

“All right!” Brand shouted. “You’re going back to the hospital!”

Screwball was surprised by the spy’s anger. “This machine is theoretical and the math necessary for it to work is beyond anything anyone can do. No one is more frustrated than me. Imagine being a genius and fully aware of your limitations! It’s bumming me out!”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?” Brand cried.

“Because it’s not beyond the brainpower of Gerdie Baker, or at least not beyond that of the Mathlete. Bring in Gerdie and give her back her upgrades. Her supercharged brain will help me assemble my invention.”

“Absolutely not!” Pufferfish said.

“Gerdie’s upgrades are essential!” Heathcliff said. “I can’t build it without her.”

“We can’t find her!” Wheezer cried, then used her inhaler. “She’s changed her appearance. She doesn’t look anything like she did.”

“The answer is rather obvious. It’s math,” Screwball said.

“Math?”

“She loves math,” he said. “No! Love is the wrong word. She’s obsessed with math. Gerdie can’t help herself. If there’s a problem, she has to solve it—and the more complicated the better. She’ll give herself away with the right equation.”

“If we bring you Gerdie, is it going to take thousands of years?” Brand asked.

Screwball shook his head. “Together we can build it in no time at all. Gluestick and Pufferfish can activate one of the machines here. Gerdie and I will go to the other Earth to set it up there.”

Screwball watched Brand stew in his anger. “Wheezer, time is ru

Matilda sighed and turned to Duncan. “I need the hardest math equation you can find.”

Matilda slipped back into camp while the girls were eating breakfast. They had hardly noticed she was gone.

“No eggs?” she grumbled as she sat next to the others at one of the picnic tables outside. Her tray was covered in the four b’s: broccoli, brown rice, bean curd, and blech!

“Jea

Matilda sniffed her rice and stuck out her tongue. She picked at it until only Kylie was left at the table.

“You don’t enjoy this, do you?” Kylie said.

“I’m sort of a pancakes, waffles, sausage, eggs, and more sausage kind of girl,” Matilda replied.

“Not the food, silly. Cheerleading,” Kylie said.

Matilda froze. Ms. Holiday had warned her about staying positive around the other girls. Cheerleaders were usually happy people. Had her early disdain for her mission painted her as a grouch?

“I get it,” Kylie said. “I wouldn’t want to be here if my parents were splitting up, either.”

“What?”

“Lilly told me you’re upset about it. Mine broke up, too. You’re probably doing this whole cheerleading thing to get attention.”

Matilda nodded. She didn’t know where this conversation was going, and she didn’t necessarily agree with Kylie, but as long as one of her suspects was talking she would let her.

“My mom and dad got so caught up in fighting they sometimes forgot how confused I was. The only way to get their attention was to throw myself into cheering. My mom did it when she was my age. My dad said he met her at a game. Once I showed a little interest in it, they showed a lot more interest in me. Still, I feel like a fraud sometimes. The skirts and the hair aren’t really me. I’m kind of a tomboy.”

“I’ve been accused of the same thing,” Matilda admitted.

“I turned myself into someone my mom and dad could get excited about—and the fighting stopped … a little. I know lots of kids who did the same thing. They got into sports, or art, or whatever. I know this kid back home who started dressing like a misfit just so his parents would worry about him. He had a pair of combat boots he never took off—he even wore them to bed.” Kylie smiled sadly. “We all do what we have to, I guess.”

Matilda couldn’t speak. Suddenly, she didn’t feel much like a secret agent. She was supposed to be collecting information on Kylie and the others, but her friend seemed to be the one with all the understanding. Matilda’s strange clothes, the wrestling, the Ultimate Fighting—it had all been an effort to get Molly and Ben to stop arguing.

When her nanobytes helped her asthma, there was nothing to keep her mom and dad busy. The crazy clothes and hair had been an effort to get them back on the same team. She had created a version of herself for them to pay attention to—an alternate Matilda—but it hadn’t worked.

She sat quietly through the rest of breakfast, listening to the girls giggling and telling stories about boys and teachers.

Suddenly she sneezed; someone on the team needed to talk to her. She excused herself and headed to the bathroom. Checking to make sure that she was alone, she slid into an empty stall and reached into her pocket. There was Duncan’s equation. Matilda couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but if Screwball was right, it would be a second language to the Mathlete.

She sneezed again and Duncan’s voice popped into her head.

“How is it going?”

“I’ve got the equation right in front of me. Wish me luck,” she said.

“It’s a shame this is such a priority, Wheezer,” Duncan added. “The NCA finals are tomorrow and Team Strikeforce has a real shot.”

“What do you mean?”

“My sister just joined her school’s squad and she’s obsessed! She told me that if the junior elite team doesn’t have at least eight members they have to forfeit. When you and Gerdie are gone, Team Strikeforce will be down to seven. They’ll have to drop out.” Matilda didn’t respond, and Duncan cleared his throat. “Well, good luck with Mathlete!”

Matilda tapped her nose to close the link and then went out to wash her hands. She had never considered Duncan’s claim. Arresting Gerdie wouldn’t just end her mission—it would rob the squad of their dream. All of their hard work would be for nothing. It was a shame the rest of these girls had gotten caught up in all of this. Although they were causing a lot of chaos, they truly loved cheering. Even under Tiffany’s general disdain for the others, glimmers of joy peeked out when they practiced. She hated to admit it, but she had started to enjoy cheerleading, too. It was intense and physical—a lot like being a secret agent. She would never admit it, but she was having fun.

She applied another coat of lip gloss as she looked at herself in the mirror, and with a start realized that she hardly recognized herself. Who was this Matilda—this cheerleading-sympathizing girlie-girl? She had never dreamed this person might exist underneath her ragamuffin hair and combat boots. She had worked so hard to transform herself from sick and suffering to superspy. She wanted people to see her as someone who could take care of herself. But had she gone overboard? Was there room inside her for Maddie the Cheerleader, too?