Page 20 of Christmas Cheer

When his speech is done, I lead the squad back out of the room and into a separate dining room for us. A lot of times, we’re not sat at the actual banquets, either because they sold too many plates or because we’re a distraction. I’ve never minded this, and especially not this time around. I don’t like having my ass grabbed by old rich men who think we’re decoration, and I don’t want to see how Evan would respond to it now of all times.

We’re still fed the same food, and we’re having a great time in our own private banquet, laughing as we share our harrowing Christmas tales with the rest of the squad. I’m one of the few who notices when Lyddie checks her phone, cringes, and scurries out of the room.

When she returns, she comes right to me and says, “I really hate to do this to you, but Thad Wright’s, like, super bummed out and could use some cheering up.”

I scrutinize her, trying to figure out what she’s implying. The guys make all kinds of ridiculous requests. What’s weird here is that it’s Thad. He’s low-maintenance. Although he’s a good player, he doesn’t stand out. We’d all happily help him wherever we can, but he doesn’t usually get anything extra like the star players do.

I grimace. “Do we need to find someone to give him a blowjob in the bathroom?”

It wouldn’t be the first time. Well, for Thad, I think it would be, but not in general. Enough of the squad is all for it, so whatever, we’ll be matchmakers.

“No, don’t be stupid! But since this is his very last game and he’s never had a rally girl before, he’d like one.”

Okay, that’s not even true. We give every new player the rally girl experience as an incentive to play well. We did the same thing in high school. The junior varsity cheerleaders divide them up and do a little something special for each of them. But since Thad is a stand-up guy, I nod. “Sure, I’ll be his rally girl this time.”

Lyddie shifts awkwardly at that like she’s left out something critical that she should have led with. “Okay, so here’s the thing. He wants me to be his rally girl.”

“But you’re Allore’s rally—oh.”

She smiles sheepishly at me. “Yeahhhhhh.”

That conniving bastard. But if I’m gonna be his girlfriend for the week, I guess I’ll be his rally girl, too.

Our second dayin Miami, we attend a high school cheer competition. Our rival squad is also there, but we’re not competing against each other. We give demonstrations and coach the younger cheer squads, even learn some things ourselves.

I tumble across the gymnasium, racing a high schooler who would have given me a run for my money at the Junior Olympics if we’d ever gone together. It’s the sort of experience that reminds me why, despite how against cheering I was in the beginning, I’m looking at spending the rest of my life teaching these skills.

As we’re heading out for the day, I hear, “Hey, Hughes?” yelled from across the parking lot. I spin around to see Jenna Grant, the leggy, high-spirited captain from the other team, flagging me down. It’s not so unusual for squads to have a pre-game discussion to figure out the best way to rally our fans without stepping on each other’s toes. We’re not usually trying to beef with other squads.

I meet her halfway between our shuttle buses, and she says, “Y’all are staying over at the Marquis Grand, right?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the name of it.” I laugh nervously, not sure why she’d need to know that, so I’m only giving a half answer. We don’tusuallybeef with other squads.

She holds her hands behind her back and rubs her toe into the concrete like she’s about to ask something embarrassing, and now I’m running through my head if I did anything to give mixed signals to her. Cheerleaders are really hands-on. I’ve touched every one of my teammates’ asses today as well as several high schoolers. That’s what happens in pyramids. But I don’t think I’ve done anything that could have been misinterpreted as flirty.

“So, I was thinking, after the game, regardless of who wins . . . I’ve got this little crush, and I’ll probably never get this opportunity again, right? And Evan Allore is just about the hottest—”

“He’s taken!” I announce way too loudly before I remember he’s not taken, not really. Ourrelationshipis just a silly joke. I give her a weak smile and concoct a lie that doesn’t involve me but I can corroborate. “It’s been on the down-low because it’s, well . . .” I lean close and look back to my squad, and by dumb luck, my target has wandered away from the shuttle and is helping one of the pee-wee cheerleaders tie her shoes. I point to him and say, “It’s Gavin.”

Jenna’s eyes go wide. “Ohhhh. Yeah, I see that being kept quiet.”

Actually, Gavin couldn’t stop running his mouth about the time he gave Evan a blow job, but that’s irrelevant. If Jenna doesn’t believe me, Gavin will provide her whole sonnets about Evan’s dick.

He might deserve those sonnets.

We have a free evening after the competition. I grab a quick dinner before getting in my swimsuit and hitting up the fancy saltwater pool the Grand Marquis boasts about. By terrible timing, though, the band also has the evening off.

I know this sounds like I’m trashing on the band. I’m not. On their own, they’re mostly awesome. But they’re three hundred members strong, and wherever they go, they bring chaos. And alcohol. An absolutely inappropriate amount of alcohol.

Also drugs. And weird traditions. Like, I know we as cheerleaders have weird superstitious behaviors, but I’m sitting on this nice shallow ledge in the pool, having a quiet conversation with a flautist I took Poli Sci with, and on my other side, a group of guys are talking all the girls into taking shots out of a gigantic mouthpiece.

“It’s from a tuba,” the flautist informs me when my eyes drift over to them. “They suckered me into mouthpiece shots my freshman year, and I blacked out.”

“Shots of what exactly?” I ask, skeptical of the Tupperware pitcher of red juice with chunks floating in it.

“Tuba punch. It tastes like candy, and then they get you just drunk enough that you eat one of the pineapples, and—oh, hey-yo.”

I glance around to see what’s caught her attention. In the middle of the pool, cutting through the sea of college kids, fully dressed in a very loud tee shirt and sunglasses despite it being nighttime, looking particularly red in the cheeks, is Evan.

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