Chapter Twenty Two

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Brooke's POV

Being at the football game Friday night made me feel like I was back in high school. Freezing cold, hard bleachers, loud boys. Of course, back in high school I'd usually been in the opposite position - cheering with the team instead of watching them.

Liliana had finally consented to come, and I made her sit in the front row with me. She was trying, without success, to make me stop being so nervous. But what if they didn't know their cheers? What if their motions weren't sharp, or their jumps weren't strong? Bent legs, flexed toes, ascended shoulders...there were too many things that could have gone wrong for me to be anything short of a wreck.

Of course, I knew that even if I hadn't done my job, the team at least had an amazing captain on their side. I commended my own choice, silently, as I watched Chelsea run through the list with the other girls, preparing themselves the way I'd told them to. Even if I was terrified, I was proud.

"They look good," Liliana said, clearly only concerned with their hair and uniforms.

"Of course they do," I said. "They haven't started moving yet."

"Would you relax? They know what they're doing. I've seen these girls cheer before."

"Yeah," I said pessimistically. "So have I."

"Look at your girl," she said, obviously referring to Chelsea though there was no guarantee that she could even be considered my girl. "She looks good."

That, I had to agree with. "She looks phenomenal. Those skirts are a gift from God."

"You horny bitch," she denounced. "You're their teacher."

"I'm not looking at any of them," I defended honestly. "Except for one."

She shrugged. "Whatever, pedo."

That's when the game started. The girls were lined up, looking professional. I barely breathed until Chelsea called the first cheer. When finally she did, her voice sounded clear and gave me chills. I relaxed considerably when the whole team jumped into action and performed it seamlessly.

"Look at that, Brooke!" Liliana squealed. "They did good!"

I smiled, vainly proud of myself almost as much as of them. "Yeah," I admitted. "They did."

By the second quarter, our football team was losing miserably, but my team was doing great. It was frigid outside, and most of the fans were losing vigor, but for the ones who were still spirited, I gave the credit to my girls.

Unfortunately, Liliana was not one of them. "Are we allowed to drink in front of our kids?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "No."

She sighed, because I'd apparently given the wrong answer. "Why?" she whined, putting her head on my shoulder.

"Because that's inappropriate," I said in my teacher voice.

"You're one to talk about inappropriate," she mumbled, and I pushed her away.

"That's different," I said.

"You know half of them are drunk anyway. How else are they still watching this?"

"They like sports," I rationalized. "And hot cheerleaders."

"Well I don't," she complained. "I like men. And vodka."

"Can you please just try to be positive?" I nagged. "It's almost halftime."

As soon as I spoke, the second quarter ended and it was almost time for the cheerleaders to perform.

"Shit," I said under my breath. "Here we go."

I watched in anticipation as as twelve teenage girls took the field, setting up to cheer. Their music started and my whole body tensed. As it began, so far so good. But I knew that soon they were putting Chelsea up in a dangerous stunt and my feelings for her began to take over as I began to worry less about how the routine looked, and more about the safety of the girl I was slowly falling in love with.

They set up for a basket toss and Chelsea got into their hands. On cue, they lifted her and she went into her back tuck flawlessly. She came into a pike at the right time, but all her bases were late. She came down too hard and her feet hit the ground. They cushioned her fall and she was okay, but it hadn't been perfect. I couldn't see her face, but I wondered if she had gotten hurt.

They finished the routine and Liliana was nothing but praise, so at least to someone else it looked good. The applause from the otherwise apathetic fans was also reassuring. But when the girls began to come off into the stands, I could see pain in Chelsea's smile.

Most of the girls came to talk to me, which just made my life easier because I would have found them anyhow. I told them how well they'd done, don't lose energy in the second half, make sure your motions stay sharp, and all that. When all the girls went off to see their friends and hit on boys, Chelsea stayed.

"Are you hurt?" I asked knowingly.

"I don't know," she said. "I messed up."

"No, you didn't," I assured her. "Your bases did."

"That's nice, Brooke," Liliana muttered. I realized that I had been pointing the finger a bit. It just killed me to think of anyone hurting her, unintentionally or otherwise.

"Okay," I admitted, changing my wording. "Your bases were late to catch you. You were already in pike. That's why you touched the ground."

"I came down on the same ankle as last time," she explained. "It hurts."

"Bad?" I asked stupidly.

"I don't know," she said. "I mean, I can walk. I can finish the game. But I don't know what I did to it."

"Let me see," I offered, gesturing for her to put it up on my knee, though it was probably weird to look at. Not thinking much of it, she obliged, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Liliana make a face, which I promptly ignored. It looked like it was swelling, however slightly. It probably wouldn't be a big injury, but still...

"I'm going to try to find ice," I decided out loud. "So you can try to get the swelling down before you go back out. Don't move," I ordered, gesturing for her to sit where I previously was with Liliana. "And elevate it."

I took off then, searching aimlessly for medical equipment at a high school foot ball game.

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