I glanced at the track. Mia was attempting a back walkover. She could do the backbend, but it was painfully slow. And she couldn’t kick hard enough to figure out the walkover part. Her problem was lack of momentum. She kept stopping between putting her hands on the ground and kicking her legs. We watched her try for a good minute until she gave up and collapsed on the track. She threw her arm over her eyes and lay there, clearly frustrated.
“Why don’t you offer to help her with that?”
“With what?”
Sean nodded his head toward Mia. “With that bendy over thingy.”
I turned to him and laughed. “You mean the back walkover?”
“Yeah, that.”
I’d grown up on a mat just as much as the field. I loved gymnastics. Mom taught me to tumble when I was a little kid. She started teaching lessons after turning our garage into a studio. It had mats, mirrors, a low beam, and even a ballet bar. She claimed that dance experience was essential to performing gracefully. Dad was supportive, if it didn’t interfere with my football training. Grandpa wasn’t a fan. He put his foot down when Mom tried to enroll me in ballet classes. She did it anyway—along with hip-hop and jazz—and conveniently forgot to mention it.
Eventually, her clientele got too big for the garage. With Mom’s experience as a gymnast and Dad’s MBA, they’d gotten this crazy idea to open a real training facility. Five years ago, they started Gym Stars in an old warehouse. Now it was a successful business that produced real gymnasts. And my paycheck. I taught mini-star classes and a few private lessons on Saturdays.
I looked back at Mia. She’d gotten up and was on her second attempt, failing this time around, too. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Sean clucked his tongue and pretended to take offense. “Of course it’s a good idea. I thought of it.”
Our assistant coach blew the whistle. “Moody, Davis. Unless you plan to quit football and join the cheer team, quit your gawking and get in here.”
A few of the guys snickered. “Yes, sir,” we called in unison. Sean and I pushed our helmets back on as we jogged to the center of the field.
Coach tossed me the ball. “You’re back on QB. Think you can handle another round?”
No. “Yes, sir,” I replied. I spent the next twenty minutes adding injuries to insult.
After practice, Sean and I headed to the locker room. On the way in, I noticed a poster on the wall, advertising cheer tryouts tomorrow after school. It was decorated with scrolly writing and little fuzzy pom-poms in various colors. I didn’t think much of it until we passed it again on the way out.
Sean stopped in front of the sign. “Hey, maybe you really should quit football and join the cheer team.” He laughed and turned to smirk at me. But an idea was bouncing around in my brain. I didn’t respond like he’d expected.
“Maybe I should,” I replied pensively.
He stared at me, mouth agape. “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Dude, you can’t quit football to become a cheerleader. Think about your rep.”
I gave him a dry look. “What rep?”
“Your rep for having testicles,” he answered incredulously. When I didn’t have a snappy comeback, he threw his hands in the air. “You’re being serious right now?”
“Why not? You and I both know I’m not going to play more than five minutes all season. And I can tumble circles around every one of those girls. I have good rhythm. I can dance.” Sean took a step back and dragged his eyes from my head to my toes. “What are you looking at?” I asked, suspicious of his leering.
He put his fist against his mouth in an effort to conceal a smile. “I’m trying to picture you in one of those short little cheer skirts. I don’t know if you have the legs to pull it off.”
“Shut your pie hole, idiot.” I lunged to punch him, and he took off running. I chased him but gave up after fifty feet. I was too sore to run. I bet cheerleaders didn’t come home from practice with bruises all over their bodies. The idea was sounding better by the minute.
Sean was waiting at my car when I got there. I hit the key fob to unlock the doors of the tiny blue Ford Focus. I’d asked for an F150, and my parents laughed at me. At least the Focus was a newer hatchback model. I tried to convince myself it looked sporty.
Sean slid into the passenger seat. I got behind the wheel and pulled out of the parking lot before I brought the cheer subject up again. “Think about it. Do you know a more legit way for me to spend time with Mia? You’re the one who suggested I offer her tumbling lessons.”
“I meant at your parents’ gym. Not the high school gym.” Sean shifted sideways in his seat. I could feel his eyes shooting laser beams through the side of my head. “You’re not at all worried about your reputation?”
I sat up a little straighter and squared my shoulders. “I’m secure enough to risk it.”
“Nick, this isn’t like putting on a cheer uniform for the Homecoming skit. You’re going to take some serious crap for joining a girls’ team. If they even let you join. You know the guys will start all sorts of nasty rumors.”
I dared a glance at Sean. He seemed seriously concerned. I tried to comfort him with a careless shrug. “First, it’s not a girls’ team. Guys could join; they just don’t. And second, who cares what people think? I’ll be spending every day with fifteen hot chicks in short skirts. Sounds like a win to me.”
Sean pursed his lips in thought, as if he was finally seeing the potential benefits of the situation. “What if they make you use pom-poms?”
My confidence wavered for a moment. I could handle the male cheer uniform, but donning pom-poms would be a bit much. I shook my head. “Park High School had a few guys on their cheer team last year. None of them used poms. I’m sure I wouldn’t have to…I think.”
Sean scoffed. “You think? I think you’re not thinking at all. Let’s say you make the team, and you manage to convince everyone at school that you’re still a card-carrying dude. How can you forget the other huge problem?” He held out his hands until they were a few feet apart.
“What problem?”
“Your grandpa.”
A string of expletives ran through my mind. Sean was right. Grandpa would be mad, and not just because I quit the team. He was one of those old-school chauvinistic types. Sure, he’d gotten used to the idea of women in the workforce, women in politics, even women in the military. But a guy doing something that was traditionally female dominated? Yeah, there was a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d be okay with it.
“The man went to the ER for stitches last year and refused to let a male nurse take care of him. You think he’ll be okay with you becoming a cheerleader?”
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “You know what? I don’t care. If he can’t accept my choices, then screw him.”
Sean whistled. “Wow. You’re for real.”
I pulled into his ridiculously long cobblestone driveway and put the car in park. Finally, I was able to look him dead in the eye. “I’m for real.”
He opened his door and climbed out, then walked to my side and signaled for me to roll the window down. “Listen. I’ll back you, whatever you decide to do. I’ll even pound on anyone who makes fun of you. But I’m not lying to the old man about where you are tomorrow when you miss practice.”
I grinned. “I don’t expect you to lie. If he asks, tell him I’m trying out for the cheer team. He’ll never believe you.”
Sean smiled back. “I want to see the look on his face when he realizes I was being serious.” He turned around and headed for his porch but stopped on the bottom step. “Unless he has a heart attack. I don’t do CPR on shriveled lips.”
He took another step, and I called out, “Don’t tell anyone until I know if I made the team.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He pretended to zip his lips and walked inside.
I drove straight to the gym. I needed support from at least one family member, and I was pretty
sure my mom would give it to me. When I walked in, she was behind the counter, taking someone’s payment. I stepped into the office and dropped my keys on the hook. A minute later, she wandered in. “Hey, sweetie. What brings you here on a Thursday afternoon? Don’t you have homework to do?”
I was leaning back in her chair with my feet up on the desk. She walked by and batted them off. “It’s still the first week. I only have a little bit of math.”
“So, you came to say hi to your dear old mother?” Her look was one of skepticism.
“I came to ask for advice.”
She left the room and returned with a faded green folding chair from the lobby. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed at it, silently requesting I vacate her spot. I moved and she settled in, with her own feet on the desk. Then she smirked at me. “Advice, huh? Okay, shoot.”
How did one start a conversation about quitting football to become a cheerleader? “If I told you I wanted to be on the gymnastics team at school, you’d be okay with that, right?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “I’d be thrilled. But the last time I checked, your school doesn’t have a gymnastics program.” She paused, eyes growing wide. “Are they getting one?”
I huffed. “In my dreams.” Mom’s sudden excitement vanished. I continued hesitantly. “But they do have a cheer team.”
Both eyebrows went up this time. “And?”
“And the cheer team tumbles. But they’re kind of bad at it. So, I was thinking I could help them out.”
Mom nodded her approval. “You want to teach some lessons here at the gym?”
Rip off the Band-Aid, Nick. “I want to join the team…”
Silence encased the room. My words hung on the air like a paper airplane suspended mid-flight. She blinked hard—once, twice, three times. Then she coughed. “You want to join the cheer team?”
I ran my hands through my hair and dropped them to my legs. “We both know Grandpa isn’t going to play me. Doesn’t matter that it’s my senior year. Or that I’m his own flesh and blood. His loyalty is to Anderson. To winning. If I was on the cheer team, at least I’d be doing something I love and actually getting to participate.”
Mom chewed on her lip and leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees. “Is this about a girl?”
She knew me too well. “No.” I lied. “It’s about me doing something where I can be successful.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? You wouldn’t be the first guy to join a cheer squad so you could impress a pretty lady.”
“I’m sure. But even if it was about a girl, would it matter?”
“Yes, it would matter. I don’t want you throwing away years of football practices and games, long Saturdays at the field, camps, and two-a-days in the summer. All so you could get a girl to like you.” I gulped. She studied me carefully before leaning back in her chair. “But I suppose if you’re doing it for your love of gymnastics…I could get behind that.”
I grinned. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m guessing you still need to try out?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow after school.”
The bell on the front counter dinged. Mom stood and walked to the office door. “I’ll be there in a second,” she said to someone in the lobby. Then she turned back to me. “Well, good luck, son. I’m sure you’d make a fine cheerleader.” She tapped the door frame and started to leave, but I stopped her.
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything for my baby boy.”
“Cover for me with Grandpa. I’ll have to miss practice tomorrow, and I don’t want him to know where I went until I find out whether I made the team. There’s no point in rocking the boat prematurely.”
“You won’t get cut.” She winked at me. “But I do recall you having a doctor’s appointment tomorrow after school. I’ll call tonight and make sure he knows about it.”
I jumped from my chair and wrapped my arms around her. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
Mom pulled away and grinned at me. “I know. Make me proud tomorrow.”
“I’ll knock their pom-poms off.”
Chapter 4
It felt weird sitting at the same lunch table with Cole. Sarah had taken up permanent residence on his lap since Wednesday. He’d done the decent thing and moved down about five or six seats. I don’t know if that was for my benefit or his. Either way, I could still hear their conversations if they spoke loud enough. Let’s just say, Sarah wasn’t playing hard to get.
“Please, can we move to a different table next week?” I begged the squad.
“No,” Stacie replied. “We’ve sat at this table every year. You aren’t going to let some dumb bubble head ruin that, are you?”
I frowned, glancing down at Cole and Sarah, who looked very intimate. “I guess not. But if they start kissing, I’m out.”
Cassidy grabbed my hand and squeezed. “How about this? If they start kissing, I’ll walk over there and pull Cole’s underwear up over his head. A giant wedgie for a giant butt.” She paused, then clarified, “I mean that Cole is a giant butt. Not that he has a giant butt. His butt is pretty much perfect.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “I got what you meant. And I appreciate the gesture.”
Cass blew me a kiss. “Anything for you, darling.”
Stacie redirected the conversation to this afternoon’s tryouts when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned my head and saw Dalton Meyers smiling nervously. “Hey, Dalton. What’s up?” I asked.
He glanced at the table full of cheerleaders and gulped, clearly out of his element. Dalton was in my calculus class. He wasn’t really a nerdy guy, but he wasn’t exactly one of the cool kids, either. He was kind of cute but very quiet, especially in large groups. We’d worked on a project together last year in our world history class. He was a little socially inept but sweet.
Dalton ran his hands up the straps of his backpack, gripping them tightly and clearing his throat. “I wanted to see how you were doing with”—he jerked his head toward Cole—“everything.”
I gave him a friendly smile. “I’m okay. Thanks for asking. All high school relationships have an expiration date. I guess we hit ours.”
He nodded and licked his lips. There was a long, awkward pause. “Well, if you want to hang out sometime…” My nerves prickled with anxiety. Was he asking me out? Because I really didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But I really didn’t want to say yes. Though our time paired up hadn’t been horrible, we had very little in common. Slogging through a date with Dalton would be painful. “We could catch a movie or get something to eat.”
I stared at him, totally mute, unsure what to say. The silence seemed to drag on forever. Cassidy sensed my panic and responded for me. “I don’t think Mia’s quite ready to date again.”
Dalton’s face flamed red. I gave Cassidy a murderous look. Only then did she realize that she’d embarrassed the poor boy. Sputtering, he replied, “Oh, yeah. I totally get it. No worries.”
He turned to make a hasty retreat, but I caught him by the arm. “Dalton, wait.” He looked down at me. “I’m not ready to date, but I could really use some more guy friends right now. All of mine are besties with the ex. And having calculus with both Cole and Sarah is practically unbearable. Maybe you could grab a seat by me on Monday?” I hoped I sounded sincere. I was sincere. Sincerely going to kill Cassidy for opening her big mouth.
Dalton’s shoulders relaxed, and his cheeks went from a humiliated red to bashful pink. A tentative smile formed. “Sure. Sounds good.”
I smiled back and gave his arm a little pat when I let go. He walked away, still with a death grip on his backpack. But at least he wasn’t looking at his feet, like I’d totally ruined his day. Once he was out of earshot, I hissed at Cassidy. “Why did you do that?”
“Because we have a deal, and I was worried you’d say yes.”
I huffed. “I was just thinking of a nice way to say no.”
Cass shrugged and took a sip of her Diet Coke. “I helpe
d you out. What’s the big deal?”
I gave her a hard look. “You embarrassed him.”
She returned my glare with one of her own. “And you promptly undid all my good doing. I let him down gently enough. You, however, gave the poor boy false hope. He probably thinks he still has a chance.”
“Cass is right,” Stacie agreed. “You need to be upfront with guys, or they’ll keep coming back.”
I dropped my head into my hands. “But that’s so mean.”
Cassidy scoffed. “Nothing about what I said to Dalton was mean. It was direct but not unkind. The difference is in delivery. And somehow, I doubt you possess the ability to deliver a cruel rejection.”
“We need to know you’ll say the right thing if we’re not around to do it for you,” Stacie added. “Maybe you should practice.”
I lifted my head. “On who?”
“Practice on me.” Cassidy grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not the same. I have no problem turning your bossy butt down.”
“Pretend I’m one of Cole’s apelike friends.” Cass lowered her voice. “Hey, baby. I cleaned out my truck. Wanna test the back seat with me this weekend?”
Giggles erupted around me. I snorted and replied with an attitude, “Um, no thanks.”
Cass tipped her head to the side and gave me a disparaging look. “You’re not supposed to tack a thanks on the end in this situation. I’m a cocky tool, remember?”
Stacie smacked Cass on the arm. “That was way too easy, dummy. Any girl could say no to that.” Stacie turned to me. “Pretend I’m a nice, sweet, shy boy from one of your classes. Deliver the same line to me that Cass gave to Dalton.” She cleared her throat. “Hi, Mia. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me this weekend?”
It was only Stacie talking, but for some reason, I choked on my words before they slipped out. “Um, thanks for the offer, but I’m not really ready to start dating again.”
Stacie stuck out her bottom lip. It quivered rather convincingly before she cast her eyes down at the table. “Oh. Okay.”
One of the Girls (Friendzone #1) Page 3
