Dear Diary,

Hey! What does a cheerleader do but lead the cheer?! Guys, you know? Like, grrrr!!! I told him straight at Ciressa's stupid theme party. Ashley mentioned it to me like everyone in our group ought to know about it. But since when did “a splash of purple” constitute a theme? Even a last minute theme? I'm pleased to say that my black dress with a purple scarf and belt kicked ass - top marks for both sweetness and mystery, I do believe.

But him... Since when did Gondor constitute a name? What fringe of a fringe did he latch on to? So, after I cut him dead, I agreed (more out of pity than anything else, quarterback or not) to meet him at the gym after his training.

As a flyer (and tireless volunteer worker in the community), 3 girls under each foot were holding me high when the scream rang out. Like me, my bases are true professionals and they didn't waver. Before us, I could see a body slumped across the bottom bench, together with a man heading for a swift exit. At which point Gondor made a dazed (occupational hazard) entrance.

“The ball, the ball, give me the football,” I hollered - I needed it to stop the man getting away. Gondor threw it up to me. I caught. I threw. The man tumbled to the floor.

“Hey, you after my position?” said Gondor. I know a compliment when I hear one.

But, dear diary, hot news. Coach Fuller lay dead. Like, who else would've been on the bench anyways, during cheerleader practice? My consistent top grades in biology now came into play. I checked for a pulse. There wasn't one.

“He's dead,” I announced. Sure, most other people would scream at this point, but that's not me. I didn't mean to appear detached, but it was a necessary frame of mind for any future medical student. I'd hardened myself to most things by continually watching CSI. Tough, but unavoidable. Then Ashley burst out with

“What's that?” A dart protruded from the side of Coach Fuller's neck.

“Keep your distance,” I warned, pointing to the dart, “it's most likely poisoned.” Next for the failed wide receiver (I know, I'm being harsh, because everyone would fail to catch a football with the back of their head while running away). Ciressa was already shaking him conscious.

“Why, it's Mister Kindell the history teacher,” exclaimed Gondor. With the squad gathered right behind me I knew that I needed a good performance. I patted his pockets. Sure enough, I found what I was looking for. Exercising great care I retrieved a small plastic bag, containing several darts.

“So, mister Kindell killed Coach Fuller,” said Ciressa, brightly.

“No, he never touched him,” I replied. “Because the real killer is still among us.” There were several gasps. I span around, hands on (lithe) hips. “Ciressa, is there anything that you want to tell us?”

“Me?” she whispered. “What's this got to do with me?” Wow, but her Little Miss Innocent act was good. Though not good enough to fool me, obvi.