by Kieran Scott
“What?” she said, and turned around. I watched the glee slowly register on her face as she read. “Guys? They’re letting guys try out for cheerleading? Oh, I love this school!” Her ensuing laughing fit could have woken the dead.
“This is very not good,” Mindy said.
The sign read, “Tryouts for the basketball cheerleading squad this Friday. All interested girls and BOYS are invited to try out! Informational meeting today at 3:00 P.M. Lecture Hall #210.”
Talk about a holiday surprise. Had Coach Holmes already ODed on eggnog?
“Why didn’t Coach warn us about this?” I wondered.
“This is going to change everything,” Mindy said.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or barf. “It . . . could be fun . . . ,” I attempted. After all, with guys on the squad we could do all kinds of new stunts. Huge pyramids, jaw-dropping tosses. It might be exactly what we needed to take our game up a notch.
“Oh, come on, guys! Be serious,” Bethany said. “No male in this school is ever going to show up for that meeting.”
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
“These gutless wonders?” Bethany said, spreading her arms wide as if to encompass the whole school. “Please. If any of the guys in this place showed even one iota of originality, there would be mass hysteria. We’re talking rain of toads. Cats with nine tails. Babies born with inside-out eyeballs. The whole nine.”
“Nice imagery,” I said.
“Trust me. You have nothing to worry about.”
Down the hall there was a burst of laughter. Bethany’s older brother Bobby—whom I fondly called Lumberjack Bob because of his massive size and impressively dark stubble—was strutting around in a little circle, wagging his hips and flailing his arms comically while chanting “SDH! SDH!” in a high-pitched voice. His friends were practically rolling on the floor with laughter. Like this was such an inspired and original performance.
Yeah. A guy trying out for the cheerleading squad would pretty much be signing himself up for endless public mockery. That much was clear.
“I rest my case,” Bethany said. “Your precious squad is gonna be fine.”
2
“I think it’s going to be so cool having guys on the squad,” Lindsey Ryan said that afternoon.
“As long as they’re the right guys,” Sage put in.
Good old Sage. Always reminding us there were right people and wrong people. What would we ever do without her? Tumble into complete and total social oblivion, I suppose.
It was five minutes after three and the entire squad—minus Mindy, Whitney and Erin—had gathered in front of the blackboard in lecture hall #210. We were supposed to be lined up in height order, but instead we were huddled into a clump, speculating about this whole guys-on-the-squad thing. So far, of the twelve or so cheerleading hopefuls seated in the room, not one of them was sporting a Y chromosome. It looked like Bethany was right. The guys of SDH were just not ready to take on cheerleading.
“Please. If a single guy has the guts to walk into this room, I’ll pay each of you a million dollars,” Chandra Albohm said in her gravelly voice, checking her newly dyed brown hair for split ends. Up until nationals I had been the only non-blonde on the squad—yes, Sand Dune High is the Official Land of the Blondes (we’re thinking about having bumper stickers made up)—but then Chandra had decided to dye her stressed strands back to their natural color. And believe me, two was definitely company.
“I think you’re going to be surprised,” Autumn Ross protested. “There are a few enlightened males in this school.”
“Oh yeah? Name one,” Chandra demanded.
Autumn stared back at her blankly and a slight crinkle formed between her two white-blonde eyebrows. Autumn was very into New Age stuff like meditating and crystals and aromatherapy and chakras, but she wasn’t yet all-knowing. Although I think she was working on it in her spare time. Still, she couldn’t seem to come up with an answer.
“Yeah. Didn’t think so,” Chandra said.
“I’ll think of one! You know I don’t like being put on the spot!” Autumn said, pouting her lips.
“I just can’t believe she would do this without telling us,” Phoebe said. “This is our squad. Don’t we get to have an opinion?”
“Apparently not,” Tara said flatly.
Her expression was even more pinched than usual. Everyone had assumed she, as captain, had known about the change, but she had already confessed that she was as clueless as the rest of us—something that clearly caused her great pain to admit. By not trusting Tara with her plans, Coach had lumped her in with the rest of us lowly minions, and Tara loved to be above us all. I think she lived for it, actually.
“I mean, honestly. It’s like we don’t even matter!” Phoebe ranted, raising her voice a bit. “Just because we’re still in high school, that doesn’t mean we’re not people with feelings and thoughts and, you know, feelings!”
“You said that already,” Felice pointed out helpfully.
“Well, that’s ’cause it’s true!” Phoebe snapped.
I glanced at Chandra, disturbed. What was up with Angry Phoebe? I’d met Depressed Phoebe and Mopey Phoebe, but this new mood swing was out of the blue. Clearly this cheer-boys thing had really gotten under her skin.
“Okay, honey, unclench,” Tara said, patting her on the back. “I’m thinking no more coffee for you.”
Phoebe took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, clearly trying to relax. Then the door opened and slammed and Coach Holmes stood there with one eyebrow raised. With her dark skin, dyed blonde ponytail and white track suit, Coach could have been a Beyoncé decoy, especially with the diva-esque attitude she had on just then.
“I believe there was supposed to be some order here, ladies?” she said.
Immediately everyone scurried into place in a straight line, backs to the blackboard. But not before a few brave people, myself not included, shot Coach Holmes betrayed glares. Coach pretended not to notice and hummed to herself as she pulled out her clipboard and pens. It was way too obvious she was trying to avoid eye contact with us. I’d never heard the woman hum before in my life.
Plus, the tune sounded vaguely like, “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.” Very “don’t mess with me or I’ll kick your butts.” Message received, Coach.
Finally, Coach Holmes finished organizing herself and looked up at the small crowd gathered in the seats. I saw her face fall slightly when she realized there were no guys present. Apparently she had overestimated the male population of our little school.
“Looks like her evil plan didn’t quite work out the way she hoped,” Chandra said in my ear.
“All right! Let’s get this meeting started!” Coach announced, recovering quickly.
Then the door opened again and everyone fell silent. The distinct sound of boy laughter was followed by the appearance at the door of none other than Daniel Healy. My Daniel Healy. My gorgeous, beautiful, non-wrestling, guitar-playing Daniel Healy. Who was, apparently, very good at keeping a secret.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sage said.
My jaw dropped like a stone. Daniel looked at me, smirked and sauntered into the room. Clearly he was enjoying the expression of total stupefaction on my face. But the shock didn’t stop there. He was followed by Terrell Truluck, wide receiver extraordinaire; Steven Schwinn, intrepid Weekly Catch reporter; and a big, beefy Asian kid who, for some reason, I knew to be named Joe. A few other guys trickled in and together the boy brigade filled up the back row.
Un-be-freakin’-lievable.
I could feel the total bafflement of my squad mates and imagined a huge finger dropping down from the sky, flicking Tara over and knocking us all down like a train of dominoes. Meanwhile, Coach Holmes’ smile nearly engulfed the room.
“Did you know he was coming?” Sage asked me.
All I could do was squeak.
“Okay. Was that a yes or a no? I don’t speak mouse.”
“No,
all right? I had no idea,” I said through my teeth.
Daniel gave me a jaunty wave, loving every minute of this. I tried to lob back a look of death, but just ended up grinning. Daniel on the cheerleading squad? This could be so, so cool!
Coach Holmes checked her watch and walked to the front of the desk. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. As you know, each year we lose a few of our fall squad members to various winter sports and those spaces need to be filled. This year we are down three female athletes, but we will be taking five girls total.”
This caused a bit of a stir among the hopefuls, who now saw their chances rise exponentially. We all looked at Tara, who stared straight ahead like a statue. Clearly this was another development she hadn’t been privy to.
“Two girls will be taken on as alternates in case of injury or other unforeseen circumstance,” Coach continued.
My face flushed scarlet. Obviously Coach had decided on this course of action because of what had happened at the beginning of the year. Two cheerleaders had been tossed off the squad for violating the Athlete’s Contract—which was the only reason Mindy and I had been given the opportunity to try out back at the beginning of October. Some members of the squad had blamed me for getting the girls booted—long story—and I knew that a few of them still did. Thus, the hot flash.
“We will also be taking between four and eight men this season,” Coach continued. “Now, this is just something I’ve decided to try out,” she said, glancing at the squad to silence any oncoming questions or protests. “The squad does not compete during basketball season, so this will give us a chance to decide whether or not the coed thing works for us. If we decide that it does, we will continue on with it in the fall and compete in a new division next year.”
“What’s this we stuff?” Tara loud-whispered.
My breath caught in my throat. Talking back to Coach Holmes was not a wise idea. The entire squad froze like we were in front of a firing squad. When Coach has a major meltdown, it’s pretty darn scary. Like “produced by Quentin Tarantino” scary. When that vein in her forehead starts throbbing, we know we’re in trouble.
“Plus, having men on the squad will be great for all you ladies who hope to cheer in college,” Coach Holmes said pointedly. “Squads are looking for girls with coed experience, so this will put you at the top of the proverbial food chain.”
Tara flushed slightly and looked at her feet. We all knew she was hoping to cheer in college next year. She had applied only to big sports schools and had visions of herself cheering on the sidelines at a bowl game, getting her mug on national TV. Coach had just said the exact perfect words to clam Tara up.
For now, anyway.
“So, let’s have everyone sign in,” Coach Holmes said, returning her attention to the room. “And while you do that, I’ll talk a little bit about what it takes to be a Sand Dune High School Fighting Crab.”
The entire squad blew out a sigh of relief. No meltdown. We were safe—at least for the time being. But I had a feeling that if we did, in fact, take guys on this season, there was going to be some major drama.
And we’d be seeing a lot more of that vein.
As soon as Daniel and I were out the back door of the school, I pulled him to me and placed the back of my hand on his forehead. Daniel laughed as he almost fell over from the force of my grip.
“Uh, what’re you doing?” he asked.
“Nope. No fever,” I joked, regarding him with mock concern. “So what is it? Aneurysm? Stroke? Are you seeing spots? Do you taste pennies?”
“Taste pennies?” he asked.
“That’s an indication of something. I just don’t know what,” I told him.
Daniel laughed. “Should I be offended?” he asked, shrugging out of his varsity football jacket. It was rather toasty under the afternoon sun. Toasty in December. Go figure. “I thought you’d be psyched I was trying out.”
“I would! I mean, I am!” I stuttered. “I mean, I would’ve been more so if I had, I don’t know, known about it!”
I whacked his arm as we started off toward the football field. Every morning and afternoon when we didn’t have conflicting clubs or practices, Daniel and I walked to and from school together. It was always a little bit of a letdown walking home alone after cheerleading, but from the looks of things, I wasn’t going to have to deal with that much longer. If Daniel wasn’t joking about trying out for the squad, of course. And if he was any good.
Would he be any good? I couldn’t even imagine Daniel cheering. Suddenly I had an image of him in a miniskirt doing side hurdlers and I had to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, not noticing my internal mirth. “I was going to tell you, but Terrell said the look on your face would be too classic. And man, was he right. I thought you were going to faint in there.”
“So did I,” I replied. I turned around and walked backward up the hill so I could face him. “So what’s the deal? Do you really want to be a cheerleader?”
Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. Terrell was joking about it during gym and then we sort of ended up daring each other to do it and it wasn’t like I could back out of a dare.”
I deflated a little. A dare? It took a dare to get him interested in one of the most important things in my life? “So you don’t really want to do it.”
“No! I don’t know! It could be cool,” Daniel said, his blue eyes sparkling. “The stunts those guys do at the competitions are sick. And since I’m not wrestling, it seems like it would be a good way to make sure I keep working out this winter.”
I turned and fell into step with him. “Plus, it’ll look killer on your college applications,” I pointed out.
“Definitely,” Daniel said. “With jazz band and everything, I’m going to come out of this year looking like the most well-rounded guy on the planet.”
“What about jazz band?” I asked. “Won’t it conflict?”
“Nah. Not too much. We mostly practice during lunch and our concerts are at night,” Daniel said. “I already talked to Holmes about it and she’s cool with working around whatever. I think she really wants to take guys.”
“I know she does,” I said, rolling my eyes. “The woman was actually humming.”
“What does that mean?” Daniel asked, tilting his head.
“No idea. But it means something,” I replied.
Daniel laughed and shook his head. Unfortunately, I get that a lot. “Anyway, I think it would be cool to be one of the first guys on the SDH cheerleading squad. I could make history.”
Aw. He was so cute! And so very naïve. Yeah he would be making history, but being a guy cheerleader wasn’t going to be all fun, all the time. If Bobby’s performance that morning was any indication of things to come, Daniel would be in for it. Capital I. Capital T.
“Even though you’re going to catch more crap than the grill on the front of a Mack truck?” I teased. I didn’t want to make such a big deal out of it that he would change his mind, but I did want him to know what he’d be up against. Therefore, the serious comment in the unserious tone.
“Yeah. Even though,” he said, brushing it off. Maybe I should have gone for more serious. He paused and turned to face me. A warm breeze blew his hair around in the back as overhead seagulls cawed. Seagulls in December. Once again, go figure. “Plus, there’s that added perk,” he said.
I smiled at the flirtatious tone in his voice. “What’s that?”
