Page 24 of The Cheerleader

“That’s fantastic, Pete. I’m glad you found a way to get us new uniforms.” Liz smiles, and I know she’s holding herself back from hugging him, which would be normal for her, but he’s not the hugging type. And not to mention, he’s our advisor.

“What about sweaters? Your wife can’t make those,” I say, a bright smile aimed at him. “Will we still be wearing the old ones?”

He looks at me like he’s just noticing me and trying to remember my name. “We’ll buy some new sweaters.”

“Excellent,” Liz says. She bounces and wraps an arm around me as if I’m the one buying them.

Then she stops bouncing and says, “What about the guys? Is there any way we can get pants and sweaters for them?”

“Afraid not. Not enough in the budget. I told you when you girls wanted to add male cheerleaders that you could, but we aren’t budgeted for them.”

“Thanks, Pete. I know you’re doing the best you can for us,” Liz says, more poised than I remember her—of course. I keep remembering her as that thirteen-year-old troublemaker. But she was really just a troubled girl.

I wonder how much of that little girl still lingers. It almost feels like she’s trying too hard all the time, always striving and never arriving, afraid she might fall behind.

“We’ll be at your house tomorrow for fittings.” She turns to us and bounces again, excited, same as always.

Josh, my stunt partner, comes up to me like he has something to say. He’s grinning in spite of the bad news about the guys’ uniforms.

I say under my breath, “Sorry, Josh.” I pat his shoulder. “Liz says we can find another way to get you guys uniforms. A fundraiser. Maybe a car wash?”

His grin widens and he pats my back. “Don’t worry. I have some ideas for fundraisers that’ll blow the lid off a car wash or a cupcake sale.”

The way he says it, with such confidence, like his brain is whirring and plotting something big, makes me curious.

“What are you thinking about? You have something devious on your mind, don’t you?”

He laughs. “You have no idea. This is a big one. I can’t tell you now because I’m working on getting a friend to invest, and I’m close to closing the deal, but not there yet. But just you wait.”

“An investor?”

He nods like he’s sitting on a Mount Vesuvius-style secret.

“In the meantime,” Carol says, “I’ll call a promotional company we used back in high school. We can sell candy. Chocolate bars with UConn Cheerleader labels.”

“That’s a great idea,” Liz says.

Josh rolls his eyes. “If you want, but whatever you make from candy bars is going to be peanuts compared to what I have cooking.” He grins. Everyone laughs.

“Every little bit helps,” I say in Carol’s defense.

We put in another hour of practicing cheers and building pyramids. Then we take out the mini trampoline and practice doing flips off it. I’m last in line, trying not to show that I’m scared because I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m lucky I can do flying cartwheels. A couple of the girls do roundoffs into back handsprings like in gymnastics, but I’m no gymnast.

My strengths are dancing and the straddle split, so when everyone else is climbing into a pyramid, I’m down front in a split, which is fine with me.

When it comes to my turn, sweat breaks out when Liz calls out instructions. I want to throw up, but there’s no way, with all eyes on me, that I’m going to back out or let them see I’m nervous. I need to prove I belong on this squad, and this feels like a test.

“You’ll catch me if I land on my head?” I give a strained chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” Liz says. “Three steps, jump, and plant two feet in the middle. Bounce straight up, tuck and roll forward. Keep your eyes on the ground and land on your feet. I’ll be here.”

My stomach clenches when she says, “land on your feet,” because that’s the trick, the part that could go all wrong and land me on my head if I miss. Shit.

She stands on one side of my landing spot, and Keith, a former gymnast, stands on the other side. My heart pounds. Everyone is watching. There’s no way I can get away with backing down. But I’ve committed to being a cheerleader, so I’m going to give it my best and jump in with two feet—literally.

“You can do it,” Josh says, sounding confident. I squeeze my eyes in a quick blink. Inhale. And go.

Landing on my feet stuns me, but then I stumble back at the end and fall on my butt.