Page 23 of The Cheerleader

We walk down the empty hall toward the sound.

The other girls meet us in the band room while we watch them practice. We clap when the band finishes the UConn fight song.

“Where are the guys?” I ask Liz.

“They’ll meet us at the field later. We need more. The new guy, Nick, seems iffy about being on the squad,” she says. “We won’t be half as good without the guys doing pyramids and mounts.”

“I know,” Carol says, joining us. “Mary had a point. If we could offer more perks like weekend meals and new uniforms, we might be able to recruit more.”

“I thought we had a budget problem?” I say.

Liz nods. “I think there’s a way to deal with our budget shortage. We can talk about that later.” She turns to the band director, blinding him with her smile.

He stands in front of a huge mob of marching band members, and they all stare at us like they’re expecting something.

“We’re ready to start any time you are,” she says.

He blinks and swipes sweat from his upper lip. I can feel the waves of nerves coming off him as he looks us over. When he meets my eyes, he looks away quickly, like he’s afraid I’m going to slap him for looking.

“How about if we start with ‘Proud Mary’?” His voice is so quiet, I’m not sure if I hear him right.

“The Tina Turner song?”

“That’s the one,” Liz says, smiling big and wide at the band director.

We line up, and he goes into action directing the band. I barely know the routine, but I stumble along, and after the third time around, I have it down, enjoying the fast pace and cool moves.

We try different dance routines as the band plays “Proud Mary,” “The Stripper,” and other songs I don’t recognize. When we’re exhausted and I think we’ve been at it forever, the band takes a break, and Liz thanks the director.

“Let’s go get something to eat and then get back to the field for cheers and stunts.”

“Do you think I have time for a shower?” I ask for her ears only, sensing I’m out of line.

She laughs and wraps a damp arm around me. “We’re only going to get sweatier.”

When we get to the field, the cheer guys have already hauled and set up the equipment, and the football team is on the field practicing.

“The team’s wearing full pads, so they must be hitting,” Josh says. “A full-contact practice. This will be fun to watch.”

“They’re crazy in this heat with all that gear on,” I say, glancing at the players. I open the cooler to get a Pepsi. I don’t even care that it’s not diet. “Thanks for lugging this.”

“The season’s starting next Saturday. They have no choice.”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” A swarm of butterflies decides to come to life in my belly at the idea, but I take a swig of the Pepsi and tell myself to calm down. It’ll be like a dance recital. Only with thousands of people. No problem.

“Line up,” Liz calls out. “Let’s practice the fight cheer.”

As we’re finishing our third round of it, Pete shows up and claps his hands for us like he means it.

“Great job, girls—and guys.”

We follow Liz, surrounding Pete because it’s obvious he has something to tell us. The man is definitely a hands-off adviser since this is the first time we’ve seen him since we got to campus. But no one seems to mind, certainly not me.

“I have an update on the uniforms. New skirts and vests have been approved.” A small smattering of clapping starts, but he puts up his hands to stop us. “Only for the girls. Sorry, guys.”

He pauses, then smiles, and I realize I haven’t seen him smile until now.

“My wife will be making the uniform skirts and vests. You’ll report to my house tomorrow for fittings.” He hands Liz a piece of paper. “Here’s our address, directions, and phone number. Mrs. Chenersky will be expecting you at nine.”