Bottom Dollar

Nine| Cheertastic

There were only two places I hated more than Barney's diner: home and school. I tried my best to avoid the former as much as humanly possible, but as a firm requirement of the law, the latter was considerably harder to dodge.

I usually spent my lessons with my head down, focused only on getting good enough grades to carry me out of this town for good. I made sure to keep up appearances at school, and I got through the day how I got through my shifts at Barney's—on autopilot, with a pleasant smile attached to my face.

Lunch was usually the only time I ever got a moment to myself, and I often spent it holed up in the library, doing homework or day dreaming about what life would be like once I didn't have to try so hard to get by.

What life would be like when I finally got to live it.

And whilst most kids at least got to catch a break after a long day at school, my free time before I started a shift at the diner was spent with my fellow cheerleaders, practicing for the next football game.

Cheerleading wasn't something I'd ever have foresaw myself doing, nor did I particularly enjoy cheering on the meathead footballers at Pinewood high school, but I'd failed to make it on the track team and extra curricular activities looked good on a college application. Something told me simply working at Barney's diner wasn't going to set me apart from the crowd.

The girls on my team weren't bad as far as cheerleaders went, either, and as time went on I found myself warming to them in ways I'd never thought possible. I had to be considerably less sarcastic in their presence, less Meg, but I'd finally found a comfortable place amidst them, and though they were apprehensive of me when I'd first tried out, they soon welcomed me into the fold with open arms.

Of course, it turned out that being a cheerleader entailed more than just turning up to practice and cheering the loudest at football games. It was a full time commitment that I didn't always have the time nor the patience for, and I often had to remind myself that it would all be worth it when I finally got accepted into a college as far away from Pinewood as possible.

"Don't forget we're having a bake sale next weekend to raise funds for new cheerleading equipment," Beth, our cheer captain, told me after practice, her pom poms still clutched between her freshly manicured fingers as we made our way out of the gymnasium.

I was still wearing my gray and black uniform, too, since I was already running late, but usually I changed out of it as soon as practice was over. Beth, however, wore her uniform at every opportune moment, as though she wanted people to know she was a cheerleader wherever she went.

"You're still making cupcakes, right?"

"Of course," I said lightly, though the thought of finding the time to bake between school, work and caring for my mother had my stomach twisted into knots.

"And the car wash is a few weeks after," Beth continued as we made our way toward the parking lot. "So make sure you're wearing your best—and by best, I mean most revealing—bikini."

"Will do," I replied, grateful when I saw my drab gray truck in the distance. "See you tomorrow, Beth," and then, before she could reel me back in with another thing I had to remember to do, I was crossing the distance toward my car and throwing open the driver door.

It felt exhausting, keeping up with the girls on my cheerleading team, like I was constantly treading water in an attempt not to drown.

What I wanted to tell Beth was no, I wasn't going to use my body to raise money for new pom poms or spend hours making the perfect cupcakes, but I wasn't stupid enough to jeopardize my spot on the cheerleading team, not when I only had to survive one more year, and so I pulled out of that school parking lot determined to make the best damn cupcakes that Pinewood high had ever seen.