Woke

9.)

Kiara:

"Y'all, please don't make me do this." I begged the girls, as they dragged me towards the gym. It was the first day of cheer open gym, and I was not feeling it. I wore a black crop top that said "Black is Beautiful" in yellow lettering, black spandex, and my favorite pair of black and gold Puma sneakers. I let my hair curl up from shrinkage so it was tied up in a large afro puff with a yellow bandana wrapped around my head.

"Nope. Too late." Monica said, pulling my arm even harder.

"Yeah. We're already here." Tiana added, though I knew she and Monica weren't looking forward to it anymore than I was.

The closer we got to the gym, the louder my protests became. It wasn't until the doors to the gym slammed shut behind us that my complaining ceased. The sound caused everyone in the gym to stop what they were doing and look at us.

I immediately grew annoyed.

About thirty blonde or brunette scrawny girls were in that gym-- all were either talking, stretching, or doing some type of lame ass cheerleader moves. The stares my friends and I got were mixed emotions. I had a feeling my presence was unexpected and possibly unwanted.

I rolled my eyes, but didn't snap like I wanted to and instead chose not acknowledge them. Everybody went back to what they were doing beforehand, thank goodness. I would've hated having to get rude. We walked over to a group of girls who were standing in a circle talking. I recognized some of them as girls my friends and I once had a few classes with in the past.

"Where's the new coach?" Tiana asked them.

A girl named Kaycee shrugged. "I guess she'll be here any second now."

"What's she like?" Monica questioned.

Kaycee shrugged again. "All we know is that we're supposed to call her Coach B. Nobody's met her."

I fought back a snort. She was probably just another desperate woman trying to relive out her old cheer days. That's why nobody ever took the cheer squads at Chancely all that seriously, unless you were a competition cheerleader. The coaches were always just amateurs with mediocre skills who thought playing the sport in high school qualified them to coach it.

The same slamming sound from earlier silenced all movement again. Looking in that direction, we saw a gorgeous brown skinned woman walking towards us. She wore fitted black athletic pants with a red workout crop and matching red Jordan XIIs. She had micro, black box braids up in a high ponytail that fell to her lower back. On her arm was an African Ankh tattoo. Her blemish free face held a strong RBF as she scrutinized each one of us.

"I'm Yolanda, but y'all will call me Coach B. And before somebody thinks they started some clever trend, the B already stands for Bitch, because I can be a bitch, but I also am that bitch so don't get it twisted. I'm gonna let y'all know now: there are over 30 of you here to tryout, but I'll be taking no more than 10 for the team./"

A collective gasp arose from the group of girls. Even I was surprised. We had a big school, so usually we had big teams. 

"This is because things are going to change. I'm not like other coaches; I'm not some amateur, mediocre mom who's just trying to relive my old cheer days."

Well there goes that assumption...

"No, I'm here to make y'all athletes. So yes, conditioning workouts will happen at the beginning and/or the end of every practice. The workouts will be almost as rigorous as the workouts for if you were on the track team. If that's gonna pose as an issue, kindly exit the way you came."