Crap, this is hard.
I sigh and wipe the sweat off my brow and readjust my cheerleading uniform, grateful for the momentary break in exercises so I can catch my breath. Dani has had me do almost every cheer and dance routine known to man for tryouts so far, and I am aching. She even had me do splits. It wouldn't have been so bad if my practice uniform weren’t extremely uncomfortable. Seriously, my tights are riding my ass crack hard, and every now and then, I have to pull it out and hope no one catches me doing it. What sort of crazy person does yoga in these things anyway? I packed them this morning because I wanted to go for a walk, and they are supposed to wick away sweat.
At least the uniform top is pretty, silver and blue. The school's colors, which are a lot better than some of the other schools around the area. And despite it being extremely tight, I think I look good in it. It compliments my new curves very nicely. The two silver stripes sort of curve out and around my newfound boobs, with the middle dark blue with "Silver Foxes" written across it in script.
The good thing so far is that I've been able to keep up with all the other girls, and Dani has yet to call me out for a single mistake. I've performed most of the cheers flawlessly and am actually having fun. I'd gone three years saying I would never do this sort of thing because it was so cliché, and now I'm finding that, fuck it all, I’m enjoying being exactly what I said I would never be, one of the in-crowd girls.
I pull at my tights again, cursing under my breath, and then look around to make sure no one is watching. My gaze catches the eyes of Troy Wood, the most popular jock and athlete on campus. He's seated on the bleachers with a group of other jocks who have been staring and hooting like monkeys for the past half-hour . . . and he's staring directly at me.
My heart skips a beat. This guy has never looked at me before. Hell, I don't think he even knew I existed. Yet he's looking at me like I'm a side of beef, and it's actually sexy. I've never seen a guy look at me like that before, and certainly not one as hot as Troy.
My cheeks burn under his intense gaze, and I’m lost in a momentary fantasy.
“Hello?” Dani demands. "Earth to Whitney!"
I tear my eyes away from the hot hunk in the stands, doing my best to refocus. “Huh?”
Dani is scowling at me with her hands on her hips. “I asked you if you were ready?”
“Ready for what?”
Dani nods at the other cheerleaders. “To try the Pyramid.”
I'm horrified. “You can't be serious.”
Dani grins and nods. She’s enjoying this a bit too much. I wonder if Coach picked the right girl to be Captain of the squad this year, because Dani's showing a serious sadist streak. “You wanted to be a cheerleader. Now let's see if you have what it takes.”
She motions at the other cheerleaders, and they quickly take formation. First are the thicker girls, those who are on the team so they can be there for the lifts and stunts like this, then the next level, and then the third, rising up high into the air . . .
I stare with trepidation. Was Dani's plan to come back and offer me a spot on the cheerleading team, just to watch me fall and break my neck? “Uh . . .”
“Come on, Whit,” Dani says impatiently. “We don't have all day. The guys start their football games Friday night, and the coach is going to want us to have our routine in order.”
I debate on just walking off and telling her that I'm not fit for this, but I don't want to disappoint my best friend, and all the other girls are staring at me while they hold their positions, waiting for me to act. I understand the physics of it. Even with my new curves, I'm nearly the most petite girl out there, but that doesn't mean I like the idea of being twelve feet in the air on one foot. That is just insane.
“I hope I don't fall,” I mutter, making my way over to the wall of flesh. One of the girls, maybe Janet or maybe Dasha, grumbles under her breath, telling me to hurry the fuck up.
“Oh, you'll be all right.” Dani waves away my worry. “They won't let you fall.”
“I'm sure.”
“Hey, remember, Spirit Fingers!” she exclaims cheerily, quoting one of my favorite movies, Bring It On, while wiggling her fingers and doing a high split kick. She throws her arms out in a big V before tucking and doing a back round off, earning a few hoots and some applause from the stands. Dani's eating this shit up— she's always been a natural performer.
“Oh, God,” I groan in exasperation. Didn't she get it? This isn't Bring It On. This is real life. And I can die a horrible death. Or does she not notice that this pyramid is just a sidewalk's width away from the student parking lot and a lot of very hard, very black asphalt?