On the Run

Chapter 8: I know who you are, Scarlett

AN: Sorry ahead of time, some of this will be really cheer-central, I just had to. Hate me if you must.

"Okay, everybody stretch out while I explain how this is going to work. No comments requested, so keep your mouths shut. Returning seniors automatically make the team here, so the five of them will be teaching you the cheer, chant, and dance. You will learn these today and tomorrow, and actually try out Thursday, where we will have three unbiased judges score you all. Everybody understand? Good."

Coach Diaz was a brisk, to the point kind of woman, who spoke clearly, loudly, boisterously, and without hesitation. After she finished her spiel, the captain, Tiffany, Grace, and the two other returning seniors stepped to the front, as Tiffany smirked at me, like she was just waiting to laugh at what an epic failure I would be. The captain, Hillary, seemed nice though, and smiled out to the thirty or so of us trying out. "All right, here we go!"

All three components of the routine were simple enough to learn, and my slight prowess seemed to disgruntle Tiffany, who glared at me as the two days of the clinic passed almost instantaneously, constantly staring me down to see if I would mess up (which I did a few times, but isn't that the point of life? You screw up, try again, and hope for the best. If you do everything right all the time, there's nothing to strive for).

"Today's the day! Remember ladies, there are only eleven spots open on the team, so don't sweat it too much if you don't make it, just you do your best and keep your heads high and shoulders up," Hillary smiled at everyone, and you could see the nerves displayed in the faces of all the first timers. Or on mine. At this point, I would look like a poser if I didn't make it, and Tiffany would attempt to make me miserable for the rest of the year, no doubt flaunting her team membership.

"Break a leg. Please," Tiffany gave me a sickly sweet smile as I walked into the gym. The judges gave no smile or frown, or any sort of indication of their opinion towards my performance, just sat there perpetually scratching their pens across their papers, but I felt pretty confident. Then, of course, the fun wait outside for two hours afterwards, everyone anxious for them to post the scores, but it felt a lot better once we ordered pizza. Finally a single page was taped to the glass from inside, with a list that seemed much too short--but that was just the nerves talking. So much for adrenaline.

The crowd of adolescent girls swarmed forward within a fraction of a second, and as they got close enough to read the names you could hear the screaming, crying, and whooping begin. I waited until most people had already looked, not wanting to be a part of that sweaty, emotional, estrogen filled mess, and went up just as the five seniors did. Now I was really hoping I made it, or this would be the most awkward and embarrassing moment I would have at this school-- and possibly for a good portion of my life. I checked from bottom up (a bit backwards I suppose, but to each his own; I find it best to expect to be near the end) and started freaking when I was halfway up and my name hadn't shown. This couldn't happen. I almost gave up, but the nerdy instinct within me said to read all the way through, and I came to find that by some miracle, I was the first one on the list.

I heaved a sigh of relief just as I heard Tiffany groan and stomp her foot (what are you, five?), and Hillary grinned at me. "I figured you would be first, you showed amazing aptitude at try outs, and seemed to be quite a hard worker. Congrats." I flashed a smile back, "Thanks. Is there a meeting, or...?" She nodded, "Yep, in like fifteen minutes inside the gym."

"Write down your size for each constituent of the uniform, take a sheet with the practice schedule, read and sign the commitment to the team and our rules, NO EXCEPTIONS, and you're free to leave. Practice starts tomorrow, exactly an hour and a half before school starts. See you all then, no complaining about how early it is. And congratulations, girls," Coach Diaz gave what seemed to be a rare smile, then exited the gym gracefully, as everyone went out to their cars whispering and squealing excitedly. I walked outside and called Alex to come get me; living so close to the school was a great perk of the Andersons' house. "Hey babe, how'd it go?" "Well, let's just say Tiffany hates me even more now," I laughed. "I knew it! Good job, Scar." I could practically feel his grin stretch all the way from ear to ear. "I'm pulling around the corner." I looked up and saw his cur sidle up to the curb beside me, and smiled as I pulled open the door.