by Zoe Evans
“Hold it! Straighten out!” barked Coach Whipley. But it was no use. We all gasped as the pyramid crumbled, person by person. Luckily, the bases caught the girl before she fell facedown on the floor. I can’t imagine what they felt like just then, knowing that one wrong move could risk their qualifying for Regionals. Marie, the girl who had fallen, shook it off like nothing had happened, and the team went into their dance sequence set to a Beyonce’ song.
“Nice, Marie!” Mom yelled as we watched them hit every move.
But there wasn’t any time for overthinking. Within minutes they would be on the main mat in front of the judges, cheering their hearts out.
After their four minutes of warming up were done, we made our way to our seats. I was basically holding my breath throughout their entire routine. The Titans killed it for the first few stunts, hitting each one. The applause all around us was almost deafening. I squeezed my palms into a fist—feeling totally nervous—as Katie went up in the first pyramid, but she hit it just like she had during the practice. All their stunts were flawless. The girls at the front of the mat did synchronized toe touches while some of the guys performed toe touch fulls. “Get it, Titans!” screamed Coach Whipley. I cupped my hands around my mouth to give a big, enthusiastic holler.
After a few more stunts the Titans began their dance routine, putting everything they had into it. I think for sure they scored high on the “Variety” section of the judges’ score sheets. It was all looking great, until the bases banded together to load the flyers into another pyramid. That fall during the practice must have gotten to the rest of the team, because even though Marissa Kemper started out in the pyramid solidly enough, she totally messed up her transition from the heel—stretch to the rotation and fell right on her shoulder. The judges would definitely take away points for “Execution.” The rest of the team did their best to perform their cheer sequence while she lay there on the floor—probably expecting her to get back up and be fine. “T-I-T-A-N-S!” they yelled, holding banners and cartwheeling across the mat. I saw that Mom had stopped watching the rest of the team and was focusing only on the fallen Marissa. I could tell she was trying to fight the urge to go out on the mat and help her as she struggled to get up. When the Titans were done, it was obvious Marissa was in really bad shape. Coach Whipley had to bring her over to the medics to have her shoulder looked at.
“Wow,” said Jacqui. “I hope they don’t get cut this early. If they don’t advance to the next round, they’ll be devastated.” We watched Katie, Clementine, and Hilary walk off the mat unhappily. In fact, most of the team looked like they had just been told Santa didn’t exist. I didn’t blame them—this could have cost them one of the top medals. Or worse—entry into Regionals, period. We followed them back to the practice area.
“Ohmigod!” yelled Katie, her fists clenched at her sides. “We can’t go to semifinals without Marissa. She’s one of our best flyers. And now we’re short a flyer for our routine tomorrow!”
We didn’t know the results yet and whether they were even going to get to the next round, but either way, the Titans had a right to freak out. It was obvious that Marissa was hurt too badly to come back and compete. They’d have to figure out a replacement in the meantime. Or they’d have to change their routine for tomorrow—probably into something less impressive.
As if reading my mind, Clementine exclaimed, “We won’t win the qualifier with different choreography. We have a winning routine, guys. I’d rather forfeit than perform something that doesn’t live up to our standards.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around for support from her team. Everyone except Katie and Hilary was looking down at their superwhite cheer sneakers in defeat.
We watched them walk a little bit away from us for a group huddle. The Grizzlies were feeling the heat for them. Even Ian and Matt didn’t have a snarky thing to say. We weren’t the ones competing, but we still felt like something was at stake for us, too. I guess the Grizzlies did have major team spirit—even if it wasn’t for our own team.
A few minutes later Katie and Clementine were walking toward us. I had no idea why they were walking in our direction—were they actually going to tell us what their decision was? They’ve never really been buddy—buddy with us—why start now? But instead of talking to the Grizzlies, Katie pointed to Jacqui.
“You. You’re going to be our flyer.”
Jacqui almost fell off her chair.
“What? Me?” she asked, completely shocked.
Clementine pursed her lips, waiting for Katie to speak up. It didn’t seem like this was Clementine’s favorite idea. Katie sat down on one of the empty chairs in front of us.
“You were the best flyer we’ve ever had,” said Katie. “No offense to Clem,” she said quickly, looking over at her friend. “Jacqs, you could do these moves in your sleep.”
Jacqui’s face was ash white. I could tell she was freaked about the idea of learning a routine in less than no time and making it look good enough to place in the qualifier. At least, that’s what I would have been flipping out about.
“But I haven’t practiced those kinds of moves in a while,” said Jacqui. Her hands were out in front of her like she was physically trying to push Clementine and Katie away. “I can’t just get up there and do those stunts with no practice.”
Clementine finally spoke up. “It won’t be like that. We’ll spend all day today and tomorrow morning teaching you the routine.”
“Oh, right. Like you would consider that enough practice if you were in my position,” Jacqui huffed. “Listen, I’ll have to think about this.”
“Thinking won’t do anything but freak you out and waste precious time,” said Clementine. “Just say yes.”
Katie looked at Jacqui imploringly. “It doesn’t matter who is doing the flying-you, Marissa, Clementine. We’re all in the same position. Remember that feeling, Jacqui? Feeling like no matter what you are—a flyer, a tumbler, a base-we’re all in this together?” she pleaded.
Jacqui took a deep breath. “You’re right.” She nodded. “I remember.” She looked over at me, as if waiting for my reaction to all this. I was shocked—maybe even more than Jacqui. I was so used to her being a Grizzly that I had almost forgotten her history with the Titans. And now she had the chance to cheer at a qualifier—and she didn’t want it! I hate to admit this, but I’m a little jealous. I wouldn’t have thought twice about my answer if Clem and Katie had asked me.
While all this was going on, Mom was standing off to the side, talking to one of our phys ed teachers, Mr. Datner, who had come as one of the chaperones. She’s actually been hanging out with him a lot today, now that I think about it. I mean, on the bus and when she wasn’t with the Grizzlies. What was up with that? I know he’s a chaperone and all, but still. Anyway, she must have noticed our little meeting with Katie and Clem, because as soon as they walked away, she came jogging toward us. She took a quick look at Jacqui’s shocked face. “Girls, what’s going on?” she asked, clearly worried.
Jacqui explained what had happened. “Do you think I did the right thing, Coach? Saying yes?”
“Of course you did, sweetie! This is exactly why we’re here. We’re supporting the Titans. This is the best possible way to do that. I’m so proud of you.”
I had to force myself to smile at Jacqui while Mom gave her an encouraging pat on the back.
“Ok,” said Jacqui. “I guess I’ll head over to the Titans. I’ve got some major catching up to do.” She laughed. I could tell she just wanted to do the right thing, but she wasn’t enjoying this at all. Not like I would have been enjoying it. “Wish me luck,” Jacqui said before grabbing her bag and heading toward the squad.
“You ok, Madington?” Mom said. She wrinkled her brow with concern. “I know that must have been hard for you.”
I was so relieved that I didn’t have to explain it to her. That Mom just knew how this would affect me.
“Well, I can’t lie. A big part of me wishes it was me they’d p
icked.” It was a good thing the gym was so loud, or someone would have heard my guilty admission. I know I should just be happy for Jacqui—and I am in a lot of ways—but it’s still kind of unfair. Jacqui had her time as a Titan. Sure, they were kinda mean to her and all—but they apologized and asked her back and SHE said no. Obvs I’m superglad about that because now she’s on the Grizzlies, but still, she had her shot. Where’s my shot? I’ve been pushing myself so hard this year so they can see how good I’ve gotten—that I really am Titan material. But the only attention I’m getting from those girls these days is a bunch of mean looks. I know this is totally clich‘e and all, but sometimes life is SO unfair.
Mom looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry, honey. It makes sense that they’d ask their old teammate—since she knows their moves so well. But if Jacqui wasn’t here, I’m sure it would be you they’d ask.” Her beautiful sea—foam eyes sparkled as she smiled at me. I know she meant it, because I’m good at telling when Mom is feeding me little white lies just to make me feel better. I’m happy she knows my potential, even if the Titans don’t.
After all that DRAMS, I realized that our squad hadn’t done a single cheer yet, so I told everyone to get up and led the group to a free mat. I’d promised them a chance to show off some new moves at the qualifier, and I wasn’t going to let today’s craziness get us down. Too bad we had to practice without Jacqui, though.
“Let’s do ‘Can’t Be Beat,’” I instructed. It’s a spin on the cheer we did for the speech competition. Then, on my count, we did some tuck jumps and spread eagles. Then Katarina and I tumbled across the mat as the rest of the team started building a pyramid. Ian effortlessly hoisted Katarina to his shoulders while Matt stood behind her, and Jared and Tabitha Sue took either side. I continued to do some handsprings in front of the pyramid. I had to remind myself a million times to smile and look excited during the sequence, but I was so worried about the whole thing that I couldn’t keep it up the whole time. When Katarina hit her arabesque on the top of the pyramid, we started with the cheer part. We hit every move and the formations looked good! Probably for the first time, since, like, ever. Woohoo! Mom had been watching us from the sidelines, and she was smiling from ear to ear.
At least the day wasn’t completely awful.
NIGHTTIME, MY HOTEL ROOM
Jacqui and I just had a little pep talk in our room. Lanie was there too, but she didn’t really add anything to our conversation except some louder-than-life snoring. Girlfriend’s got some SERIOUS sinus issues!! She’s had a pretty big day too: She got tons of tapes of interviews and even some comments from judges and teams at other schools. But we hardly saw each other at all, actually.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be a Titan again,” moaned Jacqui.
“I know—me neither,” I said, putting on a positive face for my friend. I can’t admit to her that I’m jealous, so I just tried my best to make sure it wasn’t obvious. I don’t think she noticed.
“The last team I want to be on, and I’m practically being forced to go back there.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, but Jacqs, I saw you earlier tonight, and you looked amazing. You learned that routine in, like, five minutes.” She has to know she aced all the stunts, even though she wouldn’t fully admit it.
Jacqui grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and leafed through it. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “I haven’t trained that hard in a while, but I should be happy that I haven’t lost all my skills.”
“Look at it this way,” I said. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Oh yeah?” She laughed. “What cause is that?”
“Helping injured cheerleaders?” I tried.
She whacked me playfully with her magazine. “That’s a stretch, Mads,” said Jacqui. She smiled. “But I appreciate you trying.”
“Well, you know what The Spirit Rules would say, right?”
“No, I have absolutely no idea,” said Jacqui sarcastically.
“A captain should always set an example for her team. Your team will follow your lead.”
“So I practically had no choice in helping them, right?” said Jacqui. “If I didn’t say yes, then I would have looked like a bad sport.”
I nodded.
“Because honestly, the reason why I didn’t want to do it was because it’s them. The ones who kicked me off the team in the first place. And then Clementine had the nerve to ask me to help-”
“She’s doing what’s best for her team,” I said, cutting Jacqui off. “I think she’s putting all that bad stuff in the past.”
“And I should too, huh?”
“Well, at least for now. Until she does something else that sucks,” I joked. “Besides, it’s only for one competition.”
“Yeah, and mark my words,” Jacqui said, “it’s Clementine, so she’ll be back to her old tricks the second she doesn’t need me anymore. But until then,” she concluded, getting up to go to the bathroom, “just call me a Grizzlan.”
“A what?” I asked.
“Grizzlan. Somewhere between a Titan and a Grizzly.”
I laughed and went to get my hairbrush so I could sleep in a braid. I wanted some waves for tomorrow.
“Ok, Jacqs. Whatever you say.”
If I want to follow my own advice to Jacqui from the rules, I have to get rid of this nasty jealous funk. My team will be able to tell something is wrong—and I don’t think I did the best job of hiding my mood today. Even Katarina asked me what was up. Well, she actually asked, “Are you up?” But I knew what she meant. I think what would cheer me up (get it?) tomorrow are two things: practicing with the team (love those endorphins), and talking to Bevan. He always brightens my mood. I didn’t get the chance to call him all day. I hope he isn’t mad. . . .
It’s funny to see Jacqui in a Titan uniform after all this time. I hate to admit it, but she looks so good in it, almost like she never left. Of course, it IS a new and improved uniform . Jacqui and all the Titans were crazy nervous about their routine—this was their last chance to impress the judges—and yesterday didn’t go so hot.
When Lanes and I woke up this morning, Jacqui was already long gone. The room kind of looked like a war zone: Her makeup was lying out on almost every possible surface; her hairbrush and towel lay on her bed. (Note to self: If the chance ever comes up, don’t ask Jacqui to be your roommate .) I can’t believe I slept through her waking up and getting ready-I’m usually not such a deep sleeper. The drama of yesterday must have tired me out, I guess.
Mom had asked all us Grizzlies to meet in the lobby of the dorm after breakfast so we could walk to Sunset Valley Day together. It wasn’t too far from the college, which was good. I was dying to get there and watch the Titans practice.
“What’s up with you today?” Lanie asked me as we walked.
I felt better than I did last night about Jacqui getting picked to perform with the Titans, but I still wasn’t completely over it. “I don’t know,” I lied. “Guess I’m just tired, is all.” I think I’ll tell Lanie about my issue with the Jacqui/Titan thing after the competition is over. I have a feeling that if I tell her while we’re still here, I’ll start feeling sorry for myself. And that is SO not what I need.
It was game—face time. When we got to the gym and found the Titans, Coach Whipley was shouting at the team. Like, literally, spit-flying-out-of-her-mouth type shouting. Her hands were on her hips, and her neck looked so strained that I thought maybe a vessel would pop.
“You call those toes pointed? Hilary, work it. You can get higher than that.” Coach Whipley shook her head in disgust. “I’m sorry, but you guys do not look like you want to win to me!”
Everyone was made up hard-core. Like, full—on Lady Gaga—type makeup. The girls had on so much eyeliner that up close it looked like they had raccoon eyes. And everyone had a white bow tied around her perfect ponytail, to go with the red, white, and blue colors of the uniforms. For some reason I had this one random thought: What if the bow comes off d
uring a routine? Would someone trip on it? I didn’t have long to wonder about it, though, because my thoughts were interrupted by a high—pitched squeal and applause behind me.
A group of cheerleaders had stopped to watch Jacqui practicing one of her famous stunts: the X out basket toss. Four bases spotted her as she was thrown up high into the air. Right when she reached maximum height, she made an X with her arms and a perfect split, all before tumbling back to her bases.
“Nice job, Jacqs! You got it!” said one of the Titan guys.
Jacqui smiled, her face flushed and sweaty. She’d probably been doing this all morning.
“Thanks, guys!” she said excitedly. “One more time?”
As I watched her hit another perfect X out, I realized being jealous is just silly. She’s an amazing flyer—and always has been. I’ve gotten really good—but she’s still better by far. To win this competition, the Titans needed someone like her. So, I decided at that moment that I’m not going to think selfish thoughts anymore. I’m just going to be happy for my friend, like I should have been from the start.
“Yeah!” I shouted, clapping when she went up one more time—this time even higher.
My mom came up behind me and tapped my shoulder. “The Grizzlies are restless.” I looked back at my team and could tell that as much as they were enjoying watching amazing stunts, they were ready to get their own butts moving. Also, Ian and Matt had started a game of “who can make the ugliest face,” which is what they always do when they’re extremely bored.
I walked to the team and stood over Ian and Matt, doing my best Coach Whipley impersonation. “Excuse me, but why don’t I see any stretching going on here? If we want to practice our new stunts, we’ll have to stretch first.”
Tabitha Sue perked up. “I’ll lead if you want me to,” she volunteered.
Everyone got into a circle around Tabitha Sue as she led us through our stretch routine. I’m really proud of her-she’s getting so confident, really taking on a leadership role.
