Go-To Girl

Frozen

Summary: Ethel's hopes are dashed again. She doesn't realize she has a future champion...

Author’s Note: Updates will be relatively infrequent, still, because I have a lot of RL obligations. I just dumped a fandom/pairing that I used to ‘ship, so that at least took a handful of stories off my plate, hopefully alleviating some of my tapestry syndrome. Archies is my favorite fandom right now. And there you have it.

Ethel snuck looks at Jughead from the other side of the gym where he lazed on the bleachers, listening to his iPod Touch and munching on a bag of Corn Nuts. She barely paid attention to Miss Grundy’s droning spiel about eliminations for cheerleading tryouts.

Ethel knew it was a desperate pitch for attention, but it was her constant, longstanding habit to show up wherever Jughead did, and she overheard Archie mentioning football tryouts. Jughead wasn’t making any effort to try out for the team, but he came along to give his best friend moral support, as well as meet him for a trip to Pop’s after practice. Periodically, she noticed Jughead rapping out the beat of his music with his drumsticks, tapping on his backpack and hardcover textbooks. He looked silly but cute. She caught him peering up at her, feeling her stare, and Ethel quickly looked away. His expression was blank, and Ethel winced. That didn’t go well…

Archie listened to Coach Kleats as he passed around printed tryout schedules, feeling keyed up and excited. Archie had his eye on the quarterback spot, but he’d be happy if he even made first string. His biggest rivals for that spot were Chuck and Reggie; he’d be fine if Chuck got it, because he deserved it. But the thought of Reggie making quarterback left a bad taste in his mouth. There’d be no end to hearing from Mantle the Mouth for the whole season if he made it.

Archie snickered to himself as he watched Jug chill on the bleachers. He refused to try out, no matter how much Archie nagged him to make an effort. Jug cheerfully assured him that he’d have his back during basketball season, and if Archie wanted to get crushed like a bug out on the field that fall, he was welcome to it. Jug seemed lazy, but he was an excellent point guard.

Archie glanced over at the cheerleading hopefuls and sighed. There was Ethel, right on time, pretending not to watch Jug. It pained him, but he knew it was a hard habit for her to break. Veronica, Cheryl, Midge, Betty and Nancy were all sitting up front on the gym floor, returning from their sophomore year on the JV squad. All of them already had pom-poms and were dressed in gym shorts and sneakers. Cheryl dug in her pocket and checked her voice mail on her iPhone until Miss Grundy motioned for her to either put it away or hand it over.

Ethel’s stomach was full of butterflies. She didn’t really know what she was doing there, but she didn’t want to loiter in the bleachers without a valid reason to be there, did she? And on some level, she wanted to climb out of her safe little box. Cheerleading represented a big step for Ethel, an opportunity to grab the brass ring.

The Blue and Gold cheering squad were often the pretty girls, the ones who were on every page of the yearbook. They always ended up in the superlatives for Best Smile, Most Outgoing, Most Attractive. They were overachievers. They were worthy of attention. They never stayed home on Saturday nights watching the phone. They never had a bad hair day. Everyone wanted to sit at their lunch table.

They were never lonely.

The sensible side of her knew that Jughead wouldn’t necessarily be more interested in her if she became a cheerleader. But… somehow… she just wanted to be worthy of his attention. If she could be less of a nerd, he’d see her differently. Being herself didn’t seem to be helping her case, so what if she tried to be someone else? It was her Plan B.

Archie’s words rang in her ears. She needed to give him some space. But she’d worn such a groove in the floor at school, frequenting classrooms and hallways where she knew he’d show up. But she found herself shuttering and editing herself, opening her mouth and closing it whenever she was tempted to fill his ear. It was so hard.

Ethel took one of the cheer sheets that was being passed around and studied it. All of the cheers were familiar, but the words swam before her eyes, even though she knew she would need to be diligent about memorizing them. Her gray eyes scanned the gym. She recognized a few girls from her gym class and felt some sympathy for a group of freshman girls who looked as nervous as she felt.

She just hoped she wasn’t awkward.


*

Archie was having a hard time focusing on Coach Kleats’ words.

“… tryout practice lasts from three o’clock to four-thirty. You can catch the late bus if you need it. Regular practice will be held here; scrimmages will be held out at Riverdale Pop Warner field. I want everyone here prepared to work out. Bring cleats with you to every practice; no running shoes allowed out on that field, boys. I don’t want slips and falls. First round of callbacks will be posted on that wall and in the school’s main office by Monday. By Friday, you’ll find out if you made it.”

“What’re you staring at?” Chuck muttered, elbowing his distracted friend.

“Nothing.”

“I see how it is. You’re keeping an eye on your girl. Ron’s looking good over there in those shorts…”

“Don’t stare,” Archie growled, but he didn’t want to admit that the shorts in question had caught his attention, too. Archie was too aware of her long, tapered legs and the effect they had on him. Then Chuck’s snicker caught his attention. He followed the direction of his finger.

“Is that Ethel? She’s trying out for cheering?”

“Yup.” Archie felt a flush creep up his neck. “She’s brave.”

“She’s out of her mind! Look at all those other girls! I’m not dissing homegirl,” he insisted, “but she needs a reality check. Ethel was in my gym class freshman year. Girl can’t even do a cartwheel.”

“Maybe she’s been working on it since then.” Archie’s voice sounded less than hopeful. He saw Ethel mouthing the words to the cheers and pantomiming the choreography halfheartedly, and he felt a fresh round of embarrassment for her.

The next hour was a challenge for Ethel. She huddled toward the end of the bleachers while Miss Grundy divided the girls up into practice groups. The girls returning from the year before were captains of each team, and Ethel was relieved when Betty scanned the crowd and beckoned to Ethel. “Ethel, you’re on my team.” Even better yet, she picked her first.

“I was going to have her on mine,” Nancy argued good-naturedly. Ethel grinned. Nancy winked. “Be that way, girl. Sam, you’re on my team.”

“Maria,” Cheryl called out. The petite Latina was quick to join her, giving her a high-five. The freshman girls were divided and led by the returning JV squad members, and the selections went pretty fast. Ethel’s palms sweated.

I’m really doing this. I’m going out for cheering. I hope I make it. What happens if I don’t make it? Then, she realized, What happens if I DO?

She gave herself a break, just for a moment, to imagine herself in the blue and gold sweater and skirt. How would it feel to have a big crowd of people hearing her cheer? Would she be more popular? Would she fit in with the other girls? Would she honestly be one of them, for a change? Miss Grundy’s whistle destroyed her reverie.

“Okay. Join your teams on the mats. I want to see some jumps, splits and round-offs.”

“Shit,” Ethel hissed under her breath.

So much for her dream…

*

Archie watched Ethel visibly deflate as the other girls began to show off. Veronica and Cheryl were trying to outdo each other with round-offs, seeing which of them did better sticking the landing. Nancy was flexible and dropped down into a one-hundred eighty-degree split, making him wonder if it was painful.

“That’s my girl!” Chuck crowed.

“Suit up!” his father, Floyd, called out above the growing clamor. “We’re going out to run some circuits. Get plenty of water and head out to the field.”

“He’s been riding me all week,” Chuck admitted to Archie.

“What do you expect? You’re the coach’s kid.” Archie was actually jealous. Chuck had lettered in three sports since their freshman year, all on his own effort, and his father never cut him any slack. He ran just as many suicides, took just as many laps and tackles, and made just as many lay-ups and rebounds as anyone else. Archie’s efforts were pretty independent; his own father was no athlete. He spent less time helping him work out and more cheering him on from the sidelines.

Ronnie occasionally smiled over at him, but Betty was doing her level best to ignore him. She did wave briefly to Adam, though, which just ticked him off. Again, what did she see in him? Adam followed the rest of the prospective team to the locker rooms, but he kept looking back toward the other side of the gym. Before he could stop himself, Archie “accidentally” stumbled against the sandy-haired junior to make him trip.

“Sorry, man.”

“Wanna watch it?” Adam suggested.

“Sorry, bro,” Archie repeated, but his eyes were hard. Adam shrugged.

“What’s your deal?” He gave Archie his back and continued to his locker.

“What crawled up your ass, Carrot-Top?” Reggie smirked.

“Why’ve you gotta be interested in my ass?” Archie shot back.

“Because its mouth keeps moving. Sorry, dude; that’s your face. My bad.” His face was apologetic. Archie gave him a shove. “Someone’s got PMS…”

“Get bent.”

*

Ethel went through the motions of learning the choreography, but the moves seemed to hate her. Her arms and feet went in all the wrong directions, and she flubbed the words with every other line. She kept her voice low in an attempt to cover her uncertainty. Miss Grundy watched her from the sidelines and kept shaking her head, scribbling notes on her clipboard.

The next two days were like that. Ethel felt partly comfortable with two of the cheers, but it was still awkward when she practiced with the other girls. She occasionally heard whispers and saw them pointing at her, and she tried valiantly to ignore it and soldier through. She kept smiling and just tried to make the most of it. One small consolation: She got to watch the boys head out to the field every day in their practice gear, and still came along to watch and wait for Archie.

As the players emerged from the locker room, Archie did his sweep of the gymnasium and looked for this favorite faces. Betty glanced up at him for a moment, and he gave her a winning smile. Hers was tepid and paired with a tiny shake of her head before she went back to talking with Nancy.

Wow. She was still mad at him. That was a record. Archie felt a pang of remorse, and the hollow little ache left from her continued avoidance gnawed at him. Veronica caught his eye, and her look was smug and assured. She profiled for him, then turned her back.

Hm. Okay. What was that all about? He headed toward the breezeway, but a high-pitched shout stopped him.

“Hey, Arch!” He looked over his shoulder and caught Ethel waving to him earnestly. She looked glad to see him, which… puzzled him. But her smile was sunny and relatively sincere, and he returned her wave.

At least someone appreciated him.

His practice was brutal. They ran through the obstacle course, hutting and tackling, doing grapevines along the sidelines until Archie’s legs ached. The boys chugged water and Gatorade and fanned themselves with the hems of their jerseys, which were sticking to them with sweat.

Jughead hung out on the bench, looking bored. They planned to practice at Jug’s house when they got out; Archie had already finished his Spanish homework during his last period, and he was looking forward to rehearsing their new song. Absently he rubbed his finger and thumb together, feeling the blisters from the strings.

Archie peered back at Jug. What was it that Ethel saw in him? Jughead could be cool, sometimes, as a friend. They’d been tight since forever, sure, but why would a girl like Ethel be into a guy like that? He was standoffish, sometimes almost to the point of being rude. He was a loner, even. They had nothing in common at all; both of them were book smart, granted, but Ethel was the one on the honor roll, where Jughead only did enough work to get by, with grades just good enough for his mom to still let him play in the band or on the court. Ethel was always relatively polite and neat. Jughead could burp the alphabet. Ethel was a hobbyist and loved to cook. Jughead… liked to lie around and eat. Well, there you had it. Archie supposed that was a connection of a sort.

If Archie could name traits that a girl would have to turn Jug on, she would definitely have to like music. She would have to be a bit of a nerd and be into gaming and Star Trek. She’d have to be independent, Archie decided, and not mind it if Jughead didn’t call her everyday. She’d have to be a dog person; Hot Dog was friendly but picky. She couldn’t be a glamour puss. Jughead once confessed that Betty was one of the only girls he could ever halfway see himself dating, but that they were better off as friends; she was too much like the sister he never had. Archie took that time to remind him that he had Jelly Bean. He got a shrug in response.

Archie puzzled over it while Coach went over a few plays. What kind of guy was Ethel’s type? Did she even have a type? Tall? Brainy? AB positive? For the life of him, Archie had never seen Ethel walking around with a boyfriend. Once in a great while, she would ask someone to dance when they had mixers, but not all of her attempts bore fruit. Most nights she stayed out on the floor for the fast songs with her friends, but once it slowed down, she warmed the bleachers. Archie admitted to himself that it had to suck.

The whistle blasted, and they were back on the field. Archie got back to business, and for the next half hour, he ran his ass off.

Ethel wasn’t his problem. He wondered why he was even pondering her situation at all.

*

During the day, Ethel had a hard time not searching for Jughead. Restraining herself from stopping him in the hallway was physically painful. It was so ingrained to meander by his locker. At lunch, she miserably toyed with her pretzels and watched him with hooded eyes.

“What’s up? Today’s the big day!” Betty chirped as she joined her at their table. Nancy and Midge decided to join them, and Ethel felt relieved not to be on the fringes for a change. “Are you all ready?”

“No,” Ethel admitted.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if I should even do this.”

“Why? You’ve practiced,” Betty assured her.

“I suck.”

“You don’t suck! Just get out there,” Betty insisted. “Give it your best shot. Who knows? You might make it. If not, there’s still next year. And there’s boosters and drill team.”

“I did boosters for two years in a row. I’m tired of it, already. And drill team has to practice with the band. It’s brutal.” Ethel had watched them rehearse on the field before, doing the marching formations, and she didn’t envy them. Their practices were long and grueling, and they often grew grumpy with each other from trying to all stay in step. No, thank you, she told herself. She didn’t want to run the risk of colliding with the drum line or getting hit by a stray baton. “I might just run cross country again. And I’m playing basketball in November.”

“Nice,” Nancy said approvingly. “We’ll kick butt this year.”

“You can cheer with us until then,” Midge encouraged. “Try out. Don’t be scared!”

“I can’t do flips.”

“There’s always the bottom row of the pyramid,” Betty reminded her with a shrug. Ethel shrugged back. Her stomach was tied in knots.

Her friends kept her distracted enough that she stopped focusing on Jughead until the seventh period bell rang.

*

Ethel felt self-conscious and picked at a chipped fingernail from her perch on the third row of bleachers. She was dressed and ready to go in her knee-length sweat capris and Reeboks, and she wore a slightly roomy tee that said “Talk Nerdy to Me” that she hoped wouldn’t draw too much attention to her flat chest. She had her hair pulled back into a high, short ponytail and she at least felt ready for action.

The other girls took greater pains with their appearance, something that made her feel doubtful about her own efforts. Ethel heard Archie’s advice in the back of her mind as she got ready that morning, and she decided to skip the eye shadow. Her face felt slightly naked without it, but it saved her a few minutes in getting ready for the day. She settled for some light pink lip gloss instead, shrugged at her reflection and called it good. Cheryl and Veronica had made a big deal about their hair, blowing it out and wearing little barrettes and headbands. Nancy was more practical and had cornrowed hers into snug, neat braids. Samantha and Betty had both opted for ponytails. Ethel liked the strawberry blonde girl well enough; she knew she was dating Bingo, Jughead’s cousin from Midvale. Ethel wished she could have the same luck with the branch of the Jones family that she was interested in…

“I’m going to call three of you up at a time. We’re going to run through two cheers, and then I want to see you do the choreography, which is roughly a minute and a half long. Good luck.” Miss Grundy lined up the girls in three rows and led them to the white line at center court. She sat back down at the rectangular table under the basket with Miss Haggly and started calling numbers.

“Seventy-two, three and fifteen.” Each girl adjusted her paper number pinned to her shirt and stood at attention, feet together and hands on their hips. Ethel watched and listened to them with a sinking heart. They were great. She sucked. All she wanted to do was run and hide.

They ran through the cheers with ease, voices strong and sharp. They stood at attention again until Miss Grundy cued the music, nodding to Miss Haggly to turn on the boom box. “Go!” she barked. The first bars of “Carry Out” by Justin Timberlake and Timbaland blasted from the speakers, and Ethel silently counted the first few beats til the beginning of the routine. The girls’ timing was perfect, nailing the first moves crisply and in clean sync. Ethel heard a few in the crowd humming the words to the song under their breath. Her stomach knotted as they finished the number. “Thank you. Very nice,” Miss Grundy announced. They left the court and looked relieved to be finished.

“Two, sixteen and four.”

“Thirty, seven and twelve.”

“Twenty-five. Thirty-six. Nine.”

Each group of three had their turn, making Ethel doubt her own right to even participate. Her hopes sank further the longer she sat on the hard bench; a mean voice inside her reminded her that she was used to being stuck in the bleachers, so why should this be any different? She fiddled with the paper number pinned to her tee. If she took it off and eased her way out before they called h-

"Fifty-eight. Forty. Eight."

Shit. The single digit seemed to mock her. Too late. Time to die of embarrassment. Still... it was exciting. One the one hand, she could flub it completely and guarantee herself a whisper fest in the cafeteria on Monday. On the other... well, what if? How awesome would it be if she actually got it?

She was allowed to dream. Riding on the cheerleader bus to games. Yearbook pictures in her uniform, pom-poms raised high. Marching in parades. Homecoming dances, with the chance to be nominated for court. Fitting in. Feeling like a winner. Nothing to lose, everything to gain. Ethel meekly excused herself as she stepped down from the bleachers, trying not to step on anyone's toes. She felt everyone's eyes on her, but that was inevitable, right? They weren't staring at her anymore than the other two beside her, were they?

But her eyes flitted to Cheryl and Veronica, who were muttering behind their hands, and they both looked away from her guiltily, lips twisted into smirks. Betty shot her a thumbs up and mouthed, You can do it. That didn't help, but Ethel knew where she stood.

"Attention!" Miss Grundy trilled. "Go!"

Shit!

"Running down the field
Think you're gonna win-"

I know I'm gonna lose, what am I doing up here? Ethel's feet felt clunky and uncoordinated, but she forced herself to make them go the right way... no, left, no, wait... shoot, that was wrong...

"Think you're the best of all of them
Mud in your face
A big disgrace-"

Yup. Big disgrace. She had that covered. Was that shaky sounding squawk her voice? Miss Grundy furrowed her brows and made some notes on her clipboard. Ethel began to sweat. Serious flop sweat.

"Bulldogs gonna put you back in place
We will, we will
Rock you, sock you
Pick you up and drop YOU!!" Ethel nearly forgot the words, but she recovered by shouting them almost too loud, finishing the cheer after her peers. It was like being the last person in the room to get the punchline.

"At ease. Nice job. Stand up straight, Ethel. That's better." Ethel forced her shoulders back, fighting her characteristic slouch, and she felt her face go beet red under Miss Grundy's scrutiny. Beside her, Miss Haggly gestured for her to smile, pretending to pinch the corners of her own mouth up with her fingers. Ethel squelched a sigh and tried to smile back.

"Next. Attention. Go!"

"We don't need no music
We don't need no bands.
All we need is Bulldog fans
jammin' in the stands
Oh wait, stop a minute, and let us put some
boom shaka laka laka boom shaka laka!
Let us put some boom in it!"

Ethel mentally counted her "boom shaka lakas" and hoped she didn't come up short. Her limbs felt jerky, and she knew she had turned the wrong way when she found herself facing her neighbor; she doubled back to correct, fuming with embarrassment.

"GO, TEAM!" Her voice was painfully out of sync with the other two girls, more of a querulous echo. Just let me get through this, she pleaded with the universe. Just let me do this without totally messing up. I'm dying, here!

"C'mon, girl," Nancy murmured anxiously, crossing her fingers. Betty squeezed her hand in agreement.

"She can do it."

"She's hating it up there."

"We'll take her to Pop's."

"There isn't enough ice cream in the world," Nancy whispered miserably as they heard Ethel's belated, halfhearted "Whoo!" emphasized by a weak fist pump.

Ethel was distracted from her troubles by the muted sound of male voices - male? - in the corridor. The door was ajar, and she saw out of the corner of her eye a few heads peering around the frame. Cold dread washed over her; football practice got out early. Please, please, don't let them watch me, I couldn't live it down, Universe, pleasepleaseplease -

"Look at Bee. Check out those chicken legs. Nice shorts." That had to be Moose. Ethel fumed. He needed to shut his big, fat mouth and leave her legs alone, and be more worried about the meat between his ears.

"Big Ethel's trying out for cheer? Aw, man!"

"She's going through with it?"

"Man, she's skinny. She'll freeze to death out on the field in that little short skirt." That had to be Chuck. How kind and concerned of him, she groused.

"Hey, Jug, check out your girlfriend!" Ethel's stomach dropped into her shoes. Please, say it isn't so. Please, Lord. Ethel watched Miss Haggly fiddle with the boom box, going back to the track. Ethel tried to pay attention to the pending routine, but she had to look back over her shoulder, give in to that temptation...

She craned her neck around and caught Jughead's eyes on her. His expression was hard to gage. No... wait. That faint little quirk of his lips. Oh, no. A smirk. Jughead was smirking. At. Her. He raised an incredulous brow. Ethel snapped her head forward, thoroughly shamed. He was watching her. Okay. On the one hand, she had his attention. On the other hand... screw the other hand. This was a disaster. She wanted to die.

The music filled the gym, and Ethel steeled herself. This was it. The next minute and a half would make her or break her. Ethel never expected her death knell to sound like Britney Spears.

She started off strongly enough, remembering the moves for the first few bars. She tried not to mouth the words, focusing only on her arms and legs, attempting to stay on the right foot. Ethel tried not to wonder how she looked from the back, feeling Jughead's gaze. What could be possibly think of her? She was distracted by Miss Haggly's sudden, shrill cry of "CLOSE THAT DOOR! Let these ladies have their privacy!" Ethel heard the boys retreating from the hall, and she felt grateful for the late intervention.

It still wasn't enough to save her dignity. Her ears caught Jughead's low, amused mutter. "Man, that's sad." Ethel stopped trying to keep up with the song and froze completely. Sad??? What did he mean, SAD? She wasn't even doing that badly, was she? Ethel searched herself for a reasonable truth, some saving grace that she could find in her own effort, for any way of justifying why she should just soldier on. Her eyes swam, and they didn't sharpen their focus again until she felt something hot and slick rolling down her cheeks, salting the corners of her mouth. The girls on the bleachers watched her with a combination of amusement and pity.

"Ethel? What's wrong?" Miss Grundy inquired. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Uh-uh," Ethel murmured, voice shaky as her legs. "Excuse me." Everything was a blur as she darted toward the refuge of the locker room. Her fingers clawed off the offending letter, crumpling it and chucking it at the trash barrel.

At least it was over. Now, she could die.

*


"Geez..." Archie tsked in frustration. Ethel ran out of there pretty fast, and he didn't have to guess why. Archie had loomed in the hall, spying on the tryouts with everybody else, but he was at the back of the crowd until Miss Haggly yelled at them to clear out. Archie simply shrugged and was about to head for the lockers when Reggie made his "girlfriend" crack to Jug for everybody to hear.

It was painful to watch her completely crumple like that. Her whole posture had changed, even though his back was turned to Archie. As soon as Jughead judged her performance, even though it wasn't even the rudest thing any of them had said - then again, maybe it was - he could tell that it had hurt her. The way she stiffened up spoke volumes. If there was one thing Archie knew about girls, and he prided himself on knowing a lot, it was that tryouts were a big deal. If Archie didn't make the football team, it'd suck, sure. He'd be disappointed after he'd worked so hard, but it wasn't the end of his world. He had other things to look forward to, like playing his guitar. It also helped that he had a girlfriend to spend time with. If Archie didn't play football, it wouldn't hurt him much, because he already had a life. He was already accepted.

Ethel had to be feeling like crap.

Archie headed back to the locker room and grabbed a towel off the shelf. He was surrounded by the noisy scuffle of sneakers hitting the floor and the slam of locker doors. He tried to ignore the little talent show going on in his row of Reggie, Chuck and Moose imitating the girls. He heard them singing the Britney Spears song off-key, and Reggie profiled, hands thrown over his head while he thrust out his hips.

"Oh! Look at me! Look at me, Juggie! Let me dance for you!" His falsetto voice cracked up his friends; even Bingo and Adam, who liked Ethel well enough, snickered at his routine.

"My eyes can't unsee that," Dilton moaned as he began to put away the team's equipment and pads.

"GO, BULLDOGS!" Reggie continued. "I've got school spirit, Juggie! Look at me, look at ME!"

"Knock it off," Archie snarled. The dark-haired first stringer ignored his warning and kept thrusting his hips, fondling an imaginary pair of breasts.

"Never mind those other girls, Juggie, I'll show you how to make a pyramid! You too, big boy!" He pretended to flirt with Moose, who shooed him away in irritation.

"Reg... enough. Quit it."

"What? Pfft... who gives a fuck? You saw her out there."

"She ran out. It's not funny."

"So? She was better off. She wasn't gonna make it, anyway. C'mon, Arch, it's Big Ethel we're talking about! A cheerleader? Not even. Not on her best day."

"The same girls make it every year, anyway," Adam pointed out. "Betty's on varsity this time." That pissed Archie off, but he let it go.

"Why can't Ethel cheer? At least she tried."

"She would've looked goofy up there," Moose mocked. "C'mon, Arch... she's Big Ethel. She's not like the other girls."

"No tits," Reggie said for him.

"No ass, either, man," Chuck chimed in.

"I can't go there with you," Archie muttered, throwing up his hand. He stalked off to the showers. He left behind Reggie's shrill call of "JUGGIE! OH, LOVER BOYYYY!!" and his display of fawning and blowing air kisses, wondering why he'd even bothered to speak up.