Page 15 of Disorderly

“I hope so,” I told him before I exited the car.

“I thought they made the new and unliked teachers work the gate.”

Peter glared at me even as the corners of his mouth twitched. “Hardy-har-har.” Peter held out his hand which I shook. I may have been a little mad at him and a whole lot disappointed, but I’d missed him. I hated that we’d parted on such horrible terms when I left for the job, but it had been too soon after everything that happened. I was hurt, angry, and scared. I’d needed time to process. And now I’d had some. I’d had time to work through some of my feelings so that they weren’t quite so in my face with intensity. Maybe this weekend, seeing Peter and how he changed would put the rest to bed. “I’m glad you made it back for the game.”

I gave his hand a squeeze and dragged my fingers across the palm of his hand when I released it. It was our way of sharing our feelings for each other when we were out in public. I may have been out and proud as a bisexual, but Peter and Jarrod weren’t. What we did, what we shared between us was unknown to anyone but us.

“Save me a seat. And maybe some food.” Peter rubbed his stomach. “The sandwich was amazing, but only enough to tide me over.”

We nodded and walked into the food court area so that the line behind us could continue to move. Football may have been a distant second to hockey in most of the country, but here, their rankings were a lot closer. As a small town, we took pride in those who made it big, and we encouraged everyone to reach for their dreams. From that attitude, we’d produced a number of professional athletes in various sports besides attracting some who’d retired. And football, both Canadian and American, was one of those sports where you could find guys who’d either been raised here or had other ties to our community. It’s why so many townspeople came out to support our high school football team.

Food in hand, we found three seats near the mid-point of the stands near our school’s cheerleaders. A great spot to be able to watch and support Katy as she made her debut.

As people walked by, they all stopped to say hi, telling me how excited they were for this new job my construction company was doing. Some even asked if I still had enough people to handle local jobs which I quickly assured them I did. One of my tasks this past week had been to meet with the head of the construction diploma program and Ben Landry, the Academic Dean, from our local community college. We discussed having students apprentice with my company both locally and with our new job.

But even with the excitement and joy from those people, you could feel the underlying tension in the air that grew the closer to the time the cheerleaders would make their entrance. In the whispers that made it to my ears, I heard everyone talking about Cheryl and the fact that she’d been arrested, even if no one knew why. Her father, a prominent lawyer, closed his practice abruptly and moved to his condo in Winnipeg. And those who were involved, weren’t talking, leaving the rumour mill to fester. It was another reason why I knew I needed to be here for Katy. Stepping into the spotlight by being a cheerleader on a regular day was outside her wheelhouse, but to step in when all eyes were on the cheerleaders… that was beyond anything she’d feel comfortable with. But I understood why she’d agreed. It matched her sweet and caring nature. She’d never leave friends in a lurch when they needed her.

The canned music sounded through the PA system, quieting the crowd before shutting off to allow the announcer to speak. The high school band was introduced. They played a little piece, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

And then she was there. Her blue, yellow, and silver cheerleader outfit hugged her figure, showcasing the muscles on her legs. She wasn’t a tall girl, and her legs weren’t overly long for her height, but they were perfectly proportioned for her body. She jumped up and down with a smile plastered onto her face. The moment she saw us—saw me, I’d like to think—her smile became real, making the whole trip worth it.

She was everything to me. And I’d always drop everything whenever she needed me. All she needed was to call.

Chapter Eleven

Katy

The noiseof the crowd had me pacing in the tunnel that led into the field. Each of my nerve endings were on fire. The earlier comfort I’d gained from the hug Mason gave me after I presented him with the sandwich, left me, fleeing for faster than a person running from cracking lake ice. Fan-f’ing-tastic!I can’t do this, I whined in my head.

“You did reasonably well at practice today, but you need to bring it tonight. Don’t let us down since we allowed you to join our group.” Cami fluffed her high ponytail as she spun on her heel. Off to go bring joy and confident in another cheerleader’s life I had no doubt.

“Ignore her,” Kailee whispered in my ear. “You did great today. Better than some of the others including ‘Miss High and Mighty’ herself. Now that Cheryl’s gone, she’s bound and determined to fill her shoes as the reigning bitch.”

I choked on my laugh. It was sad and funny all at once because it was true. Cheryl had been a bitch, but she’d also been a fabulous cheerleader. And many of the routines they’d been working on since last year played to her strengths. Things we were currently missing since Cami wasn’t half the cheerleader Cheryl had been. In fact, if Cheryl and her hadn’t been such great friends, I doubted that BBB would have been co-captain. She might not have even made the team.

The band played their intro and then our music blared over the PA. With a roar, we ran into the stadium, shaking our pompoms and doing various cartwheels and roundoffs before starting our first cheer.

To my surprise, Mrs. Swindon placed me in the front row. So much for my preference of hiding out in the back so the focus wouldn’t be on me. But I sucked it up and plastered a fake smile on. Oh the things that I did for my friends, my school.

I glanced up into the crowd and nearly stumbled. Jarrod and Jason were on their feet, smiling and clapping along to the music of our routine.He came. Jason came to see me.Suddenly my smile was no longer fake. I could do this. I could nail the routine because he—they—came to support me.

The music changed, ramping up the crowd further. We raced to get into parallel lines on either side of the tunnel entrance. We held out our pompoms, shaking them hard as the announcer shouted out the names of the starting players for both the offensive and defensive lines for our school. When he got to Mason’s name, I cheered harder for my friend knowing that most in the crowd wouldn’t recognize or know him.

But when he not only tossed a cheek splitting smile my way, but also shoved his helmet under his arm so that he could make a heart with his hands before pointing at me, I wanted to smack him. I could feel my cheeks turning red as his new football buddies all smacked him, teasing him while pumping up their own adrenaline.

“Don’t tell me you’re already fucking the new guy,” Cami said through clenched teeth as she continued to smile at the crowd. I just rolled my eyes, knowing that she wouldn’t believe my answer unless I agreed with her. And even then, she probably wouldn’t believe it. Instead she’d make some remark about how I was delusional and a wannabe slut.

“You’re just jealous because he turned you down, handing you back the G-string you dropped in his bag with your phone number tie to it.” I stared at Kailee in shock from her direct attack. Normally she would have said her comment to me under her breath and after Cami was involved with another activity. She shrugged. And after Cami rolled her eyes before she started to direct us into position for the singing of Oh Canada, Kailee leaned in. “What? She’s getting to me, alright?”

I nodded, agreeing with her. But that didn’t stop my brain from whirling, wondering about the truth of her statement. Cami wasn’t acting any different than her normalbitchyself and she was definitely less then Cheryl had been. Yet never had I seen Kailee snark back at Cheryl or even Cami until tonight. I glanced out to the field. My gaze caught on Mason, wearing jersey number 46. Was he the difference? And if so, why?

The crowd roared again as the game started. We cheered on the sidelines, facing the field and our players unit there was a longer lull in the play.

“Cheer number 3,” Cami called out.

Again, I wanted to roll my eyes. Cheer number 3, of our short cheers, had been the routine I had the most problems with during practice yesterday. It was one created specifically to Cheryl’s strengths and her years of dance lessons, at least for the front dancer. During our practice, Mrs. Swindon had each of us try that solo section and to everyone’s surprise, I’d been the best at it even with tons of mistakes. For the rest of the practice, we’d concentrated most of our time on that routine. Yet for all that practice I’d still stumbled through a couple of the steps. It wouldn’t have been Cami, if she didn’t try to sabotage me—and then the rest of the team—by having us perform this cheer that we weren’t ready for.

I glanced over to Mrs. Swindon. Her eyes twinkled as she gave me a slight nod, bolstering my confidence. What Cami didn’t know was that Mrs. Swindon kept me behind after our lunch time practice and we changed up my portion of the routine to fit with my strengths. As a child, I’d also been more rough and tumble, climbing trees, swinging off bars, etc. so mom and dad put me in gymnastics to learn how to do things correctly. They hoped that the training would keep me from having a serious injury from my play. And while I stopped taking classes almost four years ago, I still retained all that muscle memory. The hours I spent doing yoga since then helped to maintain my flexibility. So instead of my solo being dance heavy, we’d switched it to be more tumbling heavy.

---