Stuck in the 50s (girlxgirl)

Papershaker or Cheerleader

"You ready for the pep rally?" I asked, grinnin' broadly at Brooklyn.

She nodded and gave me a once over. "I hope I don't sound like a perv..." She started. "But I love that cheerleading uniform."

I laughed. "Only a bit pervish." On game days or pep rally days cheerleaders wore their uniforms to school. I had caught Brooklyn starin' at me more than once. I liked it.

"Well, Miss. Cheerleader... I think it's time for you to go get ready."

"See you there!" I waved as I dashed to the gym where we were meeting to do one more run-through of our routine.

"You're late." Lexie called.

All the girls turned to stare at me. Lillian gave me a particularly snotty look.

"I know. I'm sorry! I was just-"

"Save it." Lexie held up a hand. "You were late to our first pep rally before-crowd run-through."

My stomach dropped and I could see Lillian smirkin' nastily at me.

"Lexie I'm so-"

"Shh." She said, then smirked. "The future head cheerleader should know better." Then she gave me a wink.

I grinned triumphantly at Lillian who gave a pathetic huff.

With how shy I was you wouldn't think I'd be good at cheerleadin'. Turns out it was just about the only thing I wasn't shy about.

We went through our run-through smoothly and at the end Lexie walked over to me.

"You're gonna be running this squad next year." She said. Her accent was barely there. "And do me a huge favor when you do get head cheerleader?"

I nodded quickly.

"Get rid of that bratty little red-head. She annoys the hell out of me."

"Why don't you just kick her off?" I asked.

Lexie rolled her eyes. Not at me seemingly, but at somethin' else. "Something about how I've made too many people cry." She said with air quotes. "Apparently I've kicked off too many girls for what they call no reason. But I did have reasons. They were either bitches, annoying as hell, or were too heavy to do a basket toss with. And I say that with love."

My brow was now furrowed.

"But anyway, I'm not allowed to kick anyone off anymore. Only coach is." She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise in her throat. "And Lillian sucks up to her too much for coach to kick her off. She tried it once with me."

My eyes widened. "What'd you do?"

Lexie shrugged. "I threw the chocolates in her face and told her I was allergic to her stupidity."

I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Now we should get ready." She said. "By the way, your thighs jiggle too much. Get right on that please."

I was left dumbfounded as she sauntered off.

The bleachers slowly began to fill with loud students. A few groups of girls gossiped and checked their phones when teachers weren't listenin'. Jocks yelled and hooted and threw things at each other.

A hush fell over the crowd as we got in our formation and the music started. I went through the robotic moves without missing a step. The only part of cheerleadin' I didn't like was how robotic and choppy our dances were. I liked dancing but not like this.

As I did the motions my eyes scanned the crowd until I found the chocolate brown orbs I'd been searchin' for.

Brooklyn was grinnin' at me and when we made eye contact she gave me a thumbs up. (Thumbs up to mwitt12 and our TechEd teacher Mr. Lloyd.)

When the dance was over we did a few basic cheers and then each girl read off one of the fall sports, each who had their first game coming up.

When it was my turn I took the shiny slip of paper from the sophomore before me, Lindsay and read aloud in a booming voice. "Cross country!" I didn't know how I had the guts to do anything in front of all those people, much less speak. But I did.

I found Brooklyn again and she was smirkin' at me. She mouthed somethin' that looked like 'hot' but I couldn't be sure. I blew her a mini kiss that no one else could see.

The microphone and slip of paper came back to me and I said the line I had memorized without looking at the paper. "So let's all get pumped!" What were we even talking about?

Finally the pep rally was over and I went to the locker room and changed. The day was finally over.

I met Brooklyn at her locker and she grinned.

"What're you so happy about?"

"I had an idea." She said.

"What?"

"Maybe I could choreograph one of your cheer routines!" She said excitedly.

"That'd be amazing! You can dance?"

Brooklyn nodded. "And sing."

"Sweet! I'll talk to Lexie about it."

"The devil?" Brooklyn joked.

I nodded. "She's really mean. But she's an amazin' cheerleader so it pays off."

Brooklyn laughed dryly. "Yeah, you just have to endure insults, puking, and her making you cry."

My blonde ponytail wiggled as I shook my head at her. "It's worth it. I promise."

She grumbled something and closed her locker.

We ventured out of the school and began to walk to Mel's, the convenience store around the corner from her house.

We looked at the rows of candy, lipgloss, nail polish, and useless trinkets and knick knacks.

"Hello girls!" Mel's great grandson, Jimmy called, wavin' as we entered.

We waved back and continued lookin'.

"So do you think you'll get head cheerleader next year?"

I shrugged. "Lexie does."

Brooklyn smiled sweetly. "Well I think you'll get it."

"Thanks." I whipped my head around. We were the only customers in the store and Jimmy had his head bent, counting the cash in the register. I gave her a peck on the cheek.

"You know," she said. "Having to look around really ruins the kiss."

I put my head in my hands. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

Brooklyn sighed. "I know. And I know how you feel. It's okay. I just wish I could kiss you proudly."

I groaned. "Ugh! It's not fair! Why do other people get to do this with no judgment and we can't?! Why does it matter?! Why does this happen?!"

She shook her head sadly. "I don't know. But I know that I like you. A lot. And no one can take this feeling, right now, away from us."

I grinned. "Thanks."

I had a feelin' we'd be together for a long time. And I was right.

AN: Hope you liked this chapter! Next chapter will be the time jump and it will be hopefully, pretty easy to follow! Remember to vote, comment and share! Love you!

- G. Schreiber