Confessions of a Wannabe Cheerleader

by Zoe Evans

  Everyone gasped. Everyone, that is, except for me, because I had a feeling once she said she had something to tell us that this would be it. I should have been relieved, but instead I felt incredibly guilty.

  Tabitha Sue shot out from the group and threw herself against my mother. “Please, Coach Carolyn, don’t leave us!” she pleaded.

  My mom patted Tabitha Sue’s back and smiled. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, but this is for personal reasons. I have to do what’s best for my family.”

  Gee, Mom, thanks for being so subtle. Couldn’t you chalk it up to a mysterious disease or something? Sheesh.

  I looked around the room and saw Jared was wiping tears away from his eyes. Katarina was muttering in Russian under her breath and looked like she was about to murder someone. Hopefully not yours truly. I couldn’t believe Mom was going to give up the one thing that had made her happier than I’d seen her in years. I mean, even though a few days ago I’d strongly hinted that she do exactly that. But I didn’t think she’d actually listen to me!

  “Mom, please don’t leave us,” I said. “We need you.”

  Everyone nodded earnestly.

  “I’ve made my decision, and that’s that,” Mom said, a bittersweet smile on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, choking up a little. “But I have to go.” And before we knew it, she’d turned and left.

  Apparently, Ms. Burger must have already known, because she came marching down the bleacher stands, looking quite unhappy. She hated to interrupt her LOLcat fanzine writing to have to interact with a group of misfit cheerleaders.

  “Sorry, folks. You’re back to dealing with me again,” she apologized, her hands on her hips.

  We all sighed wearily. With Mom as coach, at least we were taken a little more seriously at games. Now, with Ms. Burger again, we’d go back to being the school joke. Neither Jacqui nor I felt like practicing after practice today, so we went to change in the locker rooms with everyone else. The tension there was thick as a hot fudge sundae, and the vibe was just as cold. And guess who it was directed at. Poor little me! Like I’m the one who went and told my mom to quit!

  Finally, Jacqui broke the silence. “Maybe you could talk to her?” she said, looking at me all serious.

  I was digging something out of my locker, but when I turned around I found myself facing three sets of imploring, pound—puppy eyes (Jacqui’s, Tabitha Sue’s, and Katarina’s, respectively). You would have thought these girls had lost their mothers—not MY mother.

  “Ok, ok!” I said, defeated. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll do my best.”

  All right. So, wish me luck! Hopefully the walk home will be enough time for me to figure out what to say. . . .

  When I got home, just as I expected, Mom was wearing her bad mood outfit, which consists of her faded blue robe with the moons and stars (and a ton of bleach stains), her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and an elastic headband, oversize sweats, and Isotoners. This outfit is reserved for special occasions only (i.e., fights with my dad, breakups with guys, days when we have money problems, etc.).

  “Whoa,” I said, when I walked into the living room. “It’s that bad, huh?”

  “Mads, I’m sorry, but it’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I sat down next to her on the couch and grabbed a little blanket.

  Mom looked surprised that I was sitting so close to her, and I noticed her face soften a little. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve hung out.

  “Did I make it hard for you today?” she asked, scanning my face.

  “Well, uh . . . a little,” I said, picking up a Girl Scout cookie from the coffee table. “A bunch of people think I’m the reason you resigned.”

  Mom flipped through a bunch of TV channels, but I knew she wasn’t watching (especially since she flipped right past a cheerleading competition without stopping).

  “Oh, honey,” said Mom. “I’m an adult. I value your input and suggestions, but no one makes me do anything. I saw that my being so involved in cheerleading was hurting you. You even kept coming to me, asking me not to do certain things. I think I pushed it a little too far because I was having so much fun. But I have to do what’s good for you. I think, ultimately, this will be good for both of us.” She smiled, patting my thigh.

  I’ve been thinking about what, exactly, has been bothering me about Mom being my coach. Am I frustrated that I’m not as good a cheerleader as she used to be? Is it that I don’t want my mom to be so involved in my school life? I realized, after she announced her resignation, that it isn’t just one or the other. But what I know for sure is that I actually don’t want her to quit. What do I want are some boundaries.

  “Mom, it’s not that I don’t want you as our coach,” I told her. “You’re the best coach the Grizzlies have ever had. Or could ever dream of having.”

  Mom smiled into her lap. “That really means a lot, Madison.”

  “I’ve been acting a little bit like a pain in the butt lately, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  “No, Madison, I think this coach thing was probably a bad idea for us. You were right to act out.”

  “No, Mom, I wasn’t. I think you should come back to the team.”

  “Oh, Maddy,” she said, shaking her head, “I love you so much. Thank you for saying that, but it just wouldn’t be a good idea. . . .”

  It took a while, but I pretty much begged Mom to reconsider being coach, and she said she’d think about it. (But the way she said it, I knew she was going to say yes.) We established some ground rules, so that in the future I won’t get mad at her out of the blue. Like, when we are at home, we definitely won’t talk about cheerleading 24/7.

  “Say, when I’m trying to watch So You Think You Can Dance,” I told her. “That’s an example of a time when maybe you shouldn’t bring up our routine for the chem league. I need a break sometimes.”

  “Ok, got it,” Mom said, nodding in understanding.

  I also asked her if this office-at-school thing was completely off the table. “Like I said, it’s awkward for me to see you in the halls, you know?”

  Mom looked at me like I was making some kind of joke. “But why? Other kids have parents on the faculty. What’s so strange about it?”

  “Well, it’s not like you’re an ordinary faculty member, Mom,” I said, pointing to her perfect hair, face, and body. “You’re a cheerleading coach. You’re not, like, a teacher.”

  Mom looked offended. “I teach. I just teach . . . cheerleading!”

  I gave her a look to let her know that I didn’t exactly think of that the same way as teaching, say, math or English. She got the hint. “Can’t we just keep it like, you coach the team during coaching hours and that’s it? I’m feeling just . . . like it’s too much sometimes.”

  Mom looked at me for a few seconds and then spoke. “Of course, Madington. You know, I didn’t know how badly I wanted to do something related to cheerleading again—besides coaching you—until this opportunity came up. I guess I got really excited when you asked me to be the Grizzlies’ coach.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I feel a little guilty asking you to not be as excited.”

  “Hon, that’s not what you’re asking me. You’re asking me to just not be as in-your-face. I can do that,” she said, patting my leg.

  “Oh, and one more thing?” I said.

  “Yes?”

  “I know how to research online. And how to run fund-raisers. Basically, anything not related to actually cheering, I can probably handle on my own. I love that you try to help—but I need to be able to do this stuff on my own. Ok?”

  Mom smiled. “I’ll take a big step back,” she assured me. “From now on, I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

  “Ok, deal,” I said, putting my hand out to shake on it. But instead, Mom grabbed it and pulled me into a hug. Aw .

  So, then I FINALLY told Mom about the whole thing that happened with Clementine and the Titans and how they wanted me to design their uniforms. I realized that’s another th
ing that’s been bothering me. I’m so used to telling Mom, like, everything related to cheerleading, and I’ve been holding this back.

  “So weird, right?” I asked after I was done telling the story. “What do you think? It’s good that they at least noticed my design skills, even though, I mean . . . it would have been nicer if they recognized my other skills.”

  “I think it’s really great that they liked your designs,” she said. But I could just tell in her face that she also wished the same thing I had: that the Titans wanted me to cheer, not to design.

  Then, as if reading my mind, she says to me, “I know it’s not the same as being a Titan, but maybe it’s a step in that direction. You know?”

  I hope she’s right.

  “Besides,” she continued, “you’ve put so much hard work and effort into making the Grizzlies a real cheerleading squad. Is that really something you’re willing to give up on so quickly? If the Titans had asked you to join, how would you have felt about leaving the other Grizzlies in the dust?”

  “I don’t know,” I told her. “I guess I never really thought about it.”

  “Well, you’re a leader, honey. This is what leaders think about,” Mom answered.

  “I guess you’re right, Mom. It would have been really lame of me to just bail on everyone. But the Titans are my dream! You know that. If my chance to join them ever actually comes, am I supposed to just pass it by to stick with the Grizzlies forever?”

  “Only you can answer that,” she said. “It’s a good thing you have some time to think it over.”

  She was right, AGAIN. And from the looks of it? I’d have A LOT of time to think it over. . . .

  So, apparently Mom drives a really hard bargain these days. I had to watch Splash and Groundhog Day in order to get her to officially say yes to being coach again. Not that I don’t like mermaid movies, or even groundhogs. But I like my mermaid love stories animated, as in Ariel and Prince Eric.

  Before I got into bed, I sent a mass text to the team letting them know that Mom—I mean, Coach Carolyn—is coming back. Almost everyone was awake, and they sent me a lot of “Woo-hoo!” and “!!!!” replies. Katarina said she wanted to invite my mother and me over her house for a traditional Russian Sunday brunch to celebrate. “We eat you for brunch” was the exact sentence, but I think I know what she meant (I hope). Phew. Now my teammates won’t hate me forever for making their dream coach leave the team.

  And then Jacqui wrote, “Awesome, Mads. Knew u wld pull thru. BTW, R U gonna design the Titan uniforms 4 sure???”

  “Yep. I might slip on the measurements on Clem’s uni 4 funsies . . . JK,” I wrote back.

  The screen was blank for a while. And then . . .

  “Want me 2 submit the design 4 u?” she wrote.

  Score! One less thing to worry about. I’m clueless when it comes to that stuff, and Jacqui did such a good job with our uniforms. So, awesome!

  “YES!!! Thaaaaaaank uuuuu!”

  Tonight for the first time in a while, I have a feeling that finally, everything is in balance. Mom and I are all good. Jacqui is going to help me with the uniforms for the Titans. And the Titans, well, at least they know who I am. And best of all . . . Bevan said hi to me today .

  Seriously. A girl can’t rest for a day?! Ok, fine, it’s already been more than a week, but still! The uniforms I designed for the Titans came in today, and boy were we all in for a surprise! But not in a good way. Ohhhhh, no. I was there when they opened them because it was right before practice started, and guess what? The uniforms didn’t look like what I designed at all! The colors were the right colors, but instead of saying “Titans” they said “Tight Ends.” It gets better (or worse, rather). The tops of the uniforms have shoulder pads, like some kind of cheerleader meets football player meets 1980s secretary! I was wondering if this was some kind of joke?! My design SO did not have shoulder pads. Hello, Dynasty much? Hilary was actually stupid enough to go and try one of the uniforms on just to “see what it looked like,” and when she came out, the rest of her team couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Shoulder pads are coming back, aren’t they?” asked Hilary, looking at her teammates for approval.

  “Ohmigod, no, not on us,” said

  Clementine. “Where’s that Madison girl? I am going to kill her.”

  I’d been standing by the sidelines during the uniform reveal, so when I heard this, I quickly ducked behind the bleachers. I was going to be cheerleader roadkill for sure. Clementine would find me here, strangle me with some pom-poms, and leave me to rot. I decided to just hold tight for a while and send an SOS text to Jacqui to find me when she came to practice.

  Jacqui found me there shaking in my sneakers. She was red—faced with laughter and clutching her belly.

  “Are you not freaking out? How hysterical is this? It’s exactly what you wanted—only better! Their big game is in three days, and they’re stuck wearing those!” She pointed to one of the Titan cheerleaders, who was holding up one of the uniforms and frowning.

  “Hide me,” I said, hiding behind Jacqui until we got to where our team was assembled. “I just don’t understand! Wait, what do you mean, it’s what I wanted?” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air. “My designs were so cool. How did they get turned into something with shoulder pads? And Tight Ends . . . really?”

  Jacqui just stood there, smirking.

  Then it dawned on me: Jacqui did it. She altered them. Either that or some random dude at the uniform company was having some major fun at the Titans’ expense.

  “Jacqui, you did this?”

  “Maybe,” she said, not looking me in the eye.

  “Why? Why would you make me look bad like that?”

  Jacqui looked completely surprised. “I didn’t make you look bad. I’m making them look ridiculous. I did it for both of us. Besides, you were the one who made that comment about altering Clementine’s uniform. I thought you’d get a kick out of this.”

  “That was a joke! I wrote ‘JK’! ‘JK’ means just kidding!! And what do you mean, you did it for both of us?” I was so confused. All I knew was that the Titans had asked me to do them a favor based on the fact that they thought I was talented at designing. And now even that was ruined for me.

  “I saw you that day, in the gym, when they asked you to design the uniforms. You thought they were going to invite you onto the team. And instead they crushed you. And Clementine laughed that wicked laugh. I just couldn’t stand by and watch you get hurt by them the way they hurt me,” she said, scuffing her sneakers against the floor. “And I thought you’d be happy. Or at least laugh about it,” she said flippantly.

  “I’m not happy. I’m megaembarrassed. But I guess I can see where you were coming from, and on some level I appreciate you looking out for me, but not this way. They’re going to blame me for this! You have to tell them what happened,” I pleaded. A part of me was touched that Jacqui tried to defend me against the Titans. But the other part of me was really mad that she did it at my expense. She made me look like a real jerk in the process.

  “Oh. I thought they’d just think it was a mistake with the factory,” Jacqui said as she chewed a fingernail.

  “Um, to quote, Clementine said, ‘I am going to kill her.’ And by ‘her,’ she meant me.”

  Jacqui agreed to talk to the Titans about her little switcheroo. Man, I’ve been doing a lot of negotiating lately. It’s exhausting!

  We told the rest of the team to get started on some warm—up moves. “Hey, Jared, can you lead the team through some stretches?” I asked him. “Jacqui and I just have to go take care of something.”

  Jared looked overjoyed to be the center of attention. “At your service, ladies,” he said, taking a deep bow. “All right, team, get ready for some hip thrusts. Let’s warm up our core!”

  We could hear Ian and Matt groaning in protest as we left our side of the gym to walk toward the Titans. Mom looked on curiously, but knew I’d explain it to her later.

  The Titan
s were in a tizzy over their botched uniforms. For the first time in, oh, I don’t know how long, they hadn’t started practice on time. Even Coach Whipley was sitting on the bench as if she didn’t know what to do with herself. Uh-oh. This was bad news bears.

  Katie was on her cell phone—with the uniform company, I assumed.

  “There is no way that this was the design we ordered,” she was saying in a measured but commanding tone. “No, I did not specifically ask for shoulder pads. Sir, sir, can I speak to your manager, please?”

  When Clementine saw me, she pointed an angry finger at me and shouted, “There she is! Let’s ask her what she did to our uniforms!” This was just great. Was the rest of the team about to descend upon me wielding pom—poms and pitchforks?

  I quickly cowered behind Jacqui and gave her a nudge. “That’s your cue to start fessing up!” I whispered to her.

  “Ok, I can explain,” Jacqui said after what felt like five minutes.

  Jacqui told the team how angry she’d been about why and how they’d ousted her from the team. “It was really uncool of you to make assumptions based on what you saw in my bag, not to mention the fact that you snooped in my bag to begin with! I still don’t even understand how all of you missed the part where it said prescription,” she said, a little hotly.

  “Actually, Jacqui,” said Hilary, “it was just Clementine who saw your pill bottle. We just went along with what she told us.”

  Clementine shot Hilary a dirty look. Hilary just shrugged like, “Hey, it’s the truth.”

  “And we shouldn’t have just gone along without questioning it,” said Katie.

  “Yeah, I can’t believe that you didn’t just come up and ask me about it. Instead you started spreading rumors. And the next thing I know, you tell me I’m not needed anymore—in front of everyone. So, I offered to submit Madison’s designs for your team, and I kind of added my own, um, finishing touches. I realize now that it was a really bad idea. It’s just that . . . we used to be so close,” said Jacqui, her arms crossed defensively across her chest.