Runner Girl

Chapter Eighteen

Fingers shaking with nerves and excitement, I pull on the pleated wool skirt that Coach Cypri gave me yesterday at practice. Despite Kary's earlier warnings, the cheer uniforms aren't that bad; the skirt is a little short, but it's made of thick, solid wool, and since I won't be leaving the ground, I'm not worried about flashing anyone. Even if I were, the red grundies, nylon short shorts that go under the skirt, keep the outfit sort of modest. At least the grundies aren't any more revealing than some of my running shorts.

The top is a little worse; like the skirt, it's white with red trim, but the top has a wide v-neckline, short sleeves, and, ridiculously, a short hem. It's not a true midriff top, I guess, but the bottom of the shirt skims my belly button, no matter how much I try to pull it down. Good thing I don't mind my stomach, I think, trying not to worry about how unnatural the clothes feel. If the other girls around me in the locker room are any indication, the outfit looks simple, classic, and sexy without being provocative, and I guess that's how I'd want to look if I'm going to stand up in front of everyone at the school and cheer.

My stomach almost drops out of me. This is real, I think with a sudden shudder of nerves. True, I won't be doing much other than standing there and screaming my head off, what with the cast and everything, but I'm still going to be on display for the entire basketball game, with the rest of the cheer team. Running isn't really a spectator sport; sure, people come to the meets, but there's a lot of down time on the track, with not a lot to see. Tonight, we'll be in front of everybody for hours, and while the rational part of my brain knows that most people will be there to watch the basketball players, I know they wouldn't bother with cheerleaders if we were invisible.

I sit down for a second, my knees shaking, and Rosie notices me on the bench. "Want me to do your makeup?"

I remember how she did me up for the dance, and how pretty I felt, but of course, Rosie doesn't remember any of that. Still, it's nice to have an offer of help, and I nod silently. She sets to work, and it's like déjà vu all over again, only this time I know to hold still and when to open and close my eyes to make it easier for her. She's done in a flash, but instead of stepping away and letting me look in the mirror, she switches her attention to my hair. I cough at the cloud of hair spray that engulfs me, and Rosie grins.

"Trust me; you don't want to worry about hair falling in your face when you're out there."

I pat my head, wondering what she's done to me, and it feels like a sticky helmet. "No danger of that," I tell her.

She chuckles. "More is better in this case. It's just like dance; did you ever take ballet?"

I shake my head, and she smiles, her eyes wistful.

"I used to love to twirl. Anyway, before the recitals, all the dance moms would line us up and spray us down with Aqua Net. It was like being poisoned, but when you know your hair isn't going to fall in your face at the worst moment possible, it's easier to focus on not screwing up the dance steps."

"Why don't you dance anymore?" I ask, hoping it's not too personal of a question.

She shakes herself and smiles at me. "I do. It's just part of cheer now. Besides, there isn't time to do everything, and when I hit puberty, I realized I didn't really have the right body to be a dancer." She eyes me critically. "You do, though; not too tall, not too short, and nice and lean."

I shake my head. "I'll stick to running," I say. After a pause, I touch the pleats of my new skirt. "And cheer."

Rosie grins. "Like I said, it's almost the same as dance, just with a whole different set of drama."

So far, despite my expectations, being on the cheer team has been remarkable free from drama, but before I can ask Rosie what she means, Coach Cypri walks into the locker room and claps her hands.

She's dressed in another one of her track suits, this one a retro combination of pink and gold, and she sort of shimmers under the fluorescent lights. I shake my head, wondering how any of the girls around me think she's human. Now that I know who she really is, it seems so obvious, from her perfect hair down to her neatly manicured fingernails.

"All right, ladies, listen up. I want you to focus on the crowd tonight; listen to their energy, and be flexible with your cheers. You've got a few routines under your belts, but the trick to cheering for a game as opposed to competition is really making people believe you're part of the game." She surveys us for a moment, and then she nods. "I know you're all dying to show off what you can do, but tonight may not be the best place to put on a spectacle. Usually," she says with a wry smile, "we're the intermission; the people who've paid to be here tonight aren't here to watch you, much as I think they should."

The other girls around me are nodding, and I wonder if this pep talk is similar to one they've heard before. I listen, sort of surprised; after everything she's said at practice, I would have expected Aphrodite to want the cheer team to be the main event, rather than deferring to the basketball players.

As if she can read my thoughts, the goddess lifts one eyebrow and cocks her head. "Of course," she says after a moment, "if the crowd doesn't care about the game, there's no shame in stealing the spotlight." She winks, and Janel pumps her fist in the air in front of her, trying to hide the gesture, but the other girls see it, and a giggle sweeps through the room. "I didn't say anything," Coach Cypri says, her eyes sparkling, and then she gestures toward the locker room door.

I catch up to Janel as we line up, getting ready to make our exuberant entrance. "What was all that about?"

She laughs. "Some of the basketball players got bitchy last year, said we were trying to steal their thunder by showing off."

Behind me, Amelia snorts. "They'd do better to worry about actually getting their balls in the baskets," she says, and Janel nods.

I glance around at the cheerleaders around me, and their enthusiasm is almost tangible. "Are we going to steal their thunder?"

"Hell, yeah, we are," Janel says, matter-of-factly. "Cypri just has to say that so that when someone complains, we can all pretend we didn't do it on purpose."

Looks like I'm getting my first dose of the drama Rosie mentioned, I think, but instead of feeling turned off, I'm surprised when I realize I'm excited. It's sneaky, pitting one team against another, but I can't deny that it's not in me to be half-assed as an athlete, and I don't imagine any of the girls around me can manage that, either. Even with my cast, I stand a little straighter, and when Janel leads us onto the court, cheering and high kicking and handspringing our way across the slick gym floor, the smile on my face is real.