Page 115 of The Cheerleader

“Count on three days a week. Most games are on Tuesdays and Saturdays, so we’ll practice Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays unless I say otherwise. It’s a busier schedule than football season, so make sure you budget your time to keep up.”

Shit. Why didn’t I realize this sooner? I want to ask whether we really need to practice three days a week, but Liz has made it clear we’re going to be more in the spotlight than we were for football, in the relatively closed quarters of the field house and right there on the sidelines of the court. Holy shit. My tummy takes a turn while I try to take the news in and adjust my mindset.

But there’s no way around it. I’m going to have a hard time maintaining good grades in six classes next semester with all that time devoted to cheerleading. I need to do well because I got special permission to take the extra class to catch up with the required education courses. If I don’t get all A’s and B’s, they’ll require me to withdraw from the class.

Outside of classes, coursework, and cheerleading, I’m not going to have much of a life.

The first disappointment that forces its way into my head is that I won’t have time to spend with Bryan, especially since I won’t be tutoring him next semester. I know I should find someone else to take my mind off him, but since he opened up to me, I can’t bring myself to think of another guy.

Pointlessly, I wonder if Bryan’s a basketball fan.

Liz claps her hands, startling me, and orders us into our lineup.

“Let’s practice The Stripper dance routine. Ready?” She waits a beat while we hurry into starting position with our hands on our hips and toes pointed. Then she starts the eight count. “Five, six, seven, eight.”

We move into action while she critiques. The whole time I’m dancing, my mind struggles to rearrange my life for the remaining few weeks of the semester around the new schedule.

Maybe I can tutor Bryan on Wednesdays after practice and Tuesdays after dinner.

That’s as far as my rearranging gets before I give in to concentrating on what I’m doing. If I’m honest, losing time with Bryan is my biggest concern. It shouldn’t be. I have no right expecting to have time with him. But I desperately want to be able to carve out some kind of relationship.

I don’t want to lose him, the idea of him that I’ve always had. More than that—worse than that—I don’t want to lose the man-boy he is now because he’s better than I imagined him. The real-life three-dimensional Bryan is more compelling than the boy who tore at my heart and stole my imagination years ago.

At the end of practice two hours later, no one is as sweaty as I am, or so I imagine.

“Do you think practice will be two hours all the time?” Sherry says under her breath to me as if she can tell I’m not happy about it. She doesn’t ask, but I think she wants me to influence Liz to cut back.

Maybe I will suggest we cut back to ninety minutes.

“I hope not.” I give Sherry an encouraging smile. “We should improve as time goes on and not need as much practice.”

“See everyone tomorrow for our first game,” Liz says in her captain voice. “Then practice on Wednesday. Be prepared to learn new cheers and new stunts. We need to do more and better than we did during football season with the spotlight on us. I’ve made up a new cheer and choreographed a new dance routine, but I’d like each of you to come up with something new also. It’s important to improve and challenge ourselves and keep things fresh for the fans.”

My mouth opens, and Sherry nudges me. “Forget cutting back on practice anytime soon,” she mutters.

As the field house fills for our first basketball game, I understand with a visceral rush that this really is a whole new ballgame. We traded the mini tramp for a full-sized trampoline that Nick and Liz borrowed from somewhere and set up on the track between the stands and the court. We line up.

Nick climbs onto the trampoline and starts doing flip after flip, jumping higher and higher, mesmerizing me and the growing crowd as they count how many flips he can do in a row.

When the team comes out for pregame warmups, the pep band starts playing and we start dancing. The noise inside the field house is deafening, and my adrenaline is sky-high with the energy of the crowd vibrating through me as we dance courtside under the bright lights.

I see Bryan walking by, and our glances connect like there’s an automatic awareness between us. My excitement shoots to another level, skittering through my nerves and tumbling my tummy. Shit. Why should I feel so nervous just because he’s watching me?

I don’t have time to contemplate the question.

A giant TV camera, a camera operator, and another man, this one with a round CBS patch on his jacket, presumably a sportscaster, approach Liz, and they have a quick conversation. The cameraman sets up the camera, which is on wheels, at the end of the court near me. Liz calls a huddle with an animated gesture, more excited than usual—which is a lot.

“The game is being televised on Channel 3 in Hartford, and they want us to introduce ourselves to the TV audience.” She squeals and bounces while we respond in kind—or everyone except me. I’m in disbelief.

The sportscaster comes over, introduces himself as Bob, and asks us to line up. “We need to make this quick; do it in one take. Introduce yourselves and say where you’re from, then step aside off the court for the next girl’s or guy’s turn. Got it?” He smiles, and we chorus yes.

This is where my belly flips and tumbles higher than Nick on the trampoline because I’m lying. I don’t have it. I’ve never been on television before. But Liz and Carol line up in front of me as the captain and co-captains of the squad, and that calms me because I can follow whatever they do.

When Bob points a finger at her, Liz goes, undaunted, with her smile wide. She says, “I’m Liz McNeil from Suffield, Connecticut.” Then she steps aside, and Carol is up. I’m next.

“Susie Bennett from Suffield, Connecticut.” My voice sounds high to me, but I keep my smile as I step aside, feeling something like a Mouseketeer from the Disney show I used to watch. But it’s over fast, and the whole thing couldn’t have taken more than twenty seconds.

Bob gives us a thumbs-up, and they wheel their camera to the other side of the court where the team benches are located.