SO INSTEAD OF team practice it was Cheerleading practice. Maxine kept at him, insisting he master all the routines— both boys' and girls' parts. He didn't mind. It kept his mind off his failing to make the team. And it kept his mind off failing Randy.
It turned out Dylan had a knack for the complicated moves and twists. And he found that he was as flexible as any of the girls— if not more so. Full regular splits and straddle splits came easy. He even mastered a passable back-walkover and aerial cartwheel.
What hadn't come at all was being able to lift anyone. Even Tiny Tina— at all of eighty-seven pounds— was beyond him.
"Don't worry, Dylan. It's not that important." And to prove it Maxine put together new routines that showcased Dylan's gifts.
This did not enthuse Dylan. He dreaded the day that Maxine might say that he was ready.
⁂
"POOR BABY!" MAXINE wailed, taking a sobbing Dylan into her arms.
"Randy was horrible! He said the meanest things."
"You just forget what that lump head said."
"Doesn't he know I love him!'" Dylan wailed like it was one word.
"Did you two have a spat?"
"No. It's just that— you know— I wanted to be on top— is all."
"That's it?"
"He seemed to like it at first. And I was really getting into it, having a fun time. Then he reached up to pinch my nipples only instead he grabs my..."
"Your?" Maxine waited giving the distraught boy the breathing room he needed.
"'WTF! You got bigger tits than my mom,' is what Randy said. And after that it was, 'And you're getting all soft and curvy,' and 'How come you're prettier than my sister?'"
"He didn't," Maxine said in a huff.
"He did! And then he said, 'If I had wanted a woman I would have gotten a woman.'"
Maxine hugged the heartbroken teen. "You just have yourself a good cry now. You can stay here tonight."
"But tomorrow's Saturday and its the big game."
"That's okay, Dylan. Everything will be all right. Cause just when the storm is darkest... Why there's always a light at the end of the tunnel."
Mixed metaphor that it was Maxine genuinely believed this. It'd been true for her at least. Besides, she had her own problems right now. Tiny Tina had twisted her ankle, and she was on crutches.
'Darn,' Maxine worried. 'Where am I going to get another girl who knows all our routines'
⁂
"GOOD MORNING, SLEEPING Beauty."
"Morning," Dylan grinned, taking a seat at the breakfast table. The XXX tee shirt Maxine had lent him stopped just above his knees. Under it he wore nothing.
After he crunched and slurped down a couple of bowls of Crunch and Slurp cereal Maxine said, "You're ready."
"Do you really think so?"
"Here's your uniform." She slid a neatly folded bundle across the breakfast table.
On top of the yellow sweater with RHS emblazoned in royal blue was a pair of virgin white tennis sneakers. Under them, however, was not the pair of pleated matching trousers he'd expected. In their stead was a perky pleated skirt all in blue and a darling pair of yellow panties.
"There must be some mistake." Dylan felt a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement in his gut.
"No mistake."
"But Maxine," Dylan said, at the edge of tears again. "I thought you liked me. I thought you wanted me on the squad."
"Look at it my way. Today's the big game and I'm one girl down. Everyone's counting on us. Who am I going to get at the last minute? You! You get to help the team. Give them that extra bit of something so they can win. And in front of everyone you prove that you're not a klutz— that you're just as much as an athlete as any guy on the team."
"By parading around in a miniskirt and flashing my panties? I don't think so."
"But nobody will know it's you." Maxine smiled and winked.
"They won't?"
"Trust me. A little makeup— one of my mom's wigs— a close shave—"
"I don't shave."
"Your legs."
"Oh."
"Come on you owe me one."
"Don't do this to me."
"Okay. Please?" Maxine cranked up her feminine charm.
"Well..."
"Pretty please?" she beamed so sweetly that no man nor beast nor woman could say no.
YOU ARE READING
The Trials of Dylan
Short StoryHigh school isn't fair. Everyone says, "Dylan, I didn't know you had a twin brother." We are not twins! I'm three years older. Nathan is a measly freshman. And I don't care what the tape measure and bathroom scale say. Only, if I don't sprout up...
