Page 49 of Please, Sir

“I meant like, when you wanna talk at night, you can just call,” I whisper as a flock of students drifts by.

“Does 8 work tonight?” he asks, his voice rough but soft, like he’s working to keep his natural volume down.

I can’t help but smile. “Eight sounds good.”

It takes every ounce of grown up Riley in me not to text Leah and tell her that Jake and I have a phone date for later.

“C’mon,you guys know this routine. You’ve worked on it for weeks. And I gotta say, without baskets or any lifts, it’s not that complicated. Timing on steps should be figured out by now,” I tell the girls, who are all doubled over, gripping their knees and gasping for breath post-halftime practice.

One of the cheerleaders whispers to another, and both of them laugh. I’m not sure why my first instinct is to find Jo Jo among the faces, and I know I should probably stop doing that. If the other girls think I play favorites?—

“Your mom’s looking at you, Jolene,” a voice squeaks from the masses, causing the rest of the girls to erupt in private snickers, cupping hands to ears, whispering and watching.

Well, I guess I had that fear about twenty seconds too late.

Jo Jo’s eyes lift to mine, panicked and confused, then fall to her feet. I have half a mind to announce to these hellions that Jo Jo’s mom has passed away, and making a joke about her mom is not cool. But that isn’t going to make anything better for Jo Jo now, so instead, I bring my whistle to my lips and blow.

“You guys wanna spend practice tearing each other downand being assholes? Cool. Do that. Do that and run. Because you guys know this routine, yet you’re out here half-assing it and teasing a teammate instead of working hard. That tells me you guys want to run. So run. Run until practice is over.” I fold my arms over my chest, my face expressionless. “Suicides. Now.”

Cadence eyes me from her spot in the corner of the gym, a smug look on her stupid, pretty face. “I can tell you were their coach last year,” I shout to her in a moment of heated anger. Teenagers are kind of assholes no matter what, but having a coach in that mindset could not have helped.

“It’s not my fault they don’t know your shitty routine,” she hisses, freshmen heads volleying between us, on top of the unfolding drama.

Her comment makes me smile. “This is your routine from your first year. In my first year here I wasn’t given the authority from Layla to choreograph.”

A resounding “ohh” echoes through the girls, one saying, “Burn on Miss Caine.” Splitting my attention between Cadence and my girls, I take a few steps to get closer to her, so my next words are private. Just for us.

“You can dump yogurt on my head and be a cuntbag all you want, but the truth is, you’re a bully who never grew out of being a bully and honestly, I’m embarrassed for you. I feel bad for the freshman squad every year, that they sign up to cheer and get you, a petty, small-minded, bully. Have you ever stopped to think that you didn’t get promoted because you’re an actual turd?”

She snorts, stepping back, her expression wavering between amused and offended, and I think she could be in disbelief. The thing is, people like Cadence rarely get called on their bullshit. But they need to. And fuck her anyway. “Maybe I didn’t get the job because you’re friends with LeahMitchell,” she says, raising her hand to her mouth, jutting her tongue between her pointer and middle finger.

“Mature,” I reply, smiling so the girls think we’ve worked it out. I place a hand on Cadence’s shoulder and am surprised when it doesn’t immediately catch fire. “If Leah hired me because we’re friends, I’d probably have been assigned to a better free period, I’d be able to choreograph all the levels of halftime dance, and I’d probably be able to get you fired. But unfortunately, you’re off-base over on jealousy island.” I look back to my girls, who are on their fifth set of suicides, called out by the team captain. “Gotta go. Because we’re gonna do our halftime dance and nail it, despite the bad choreography.”

I walk away without looking back, and my team nails their next dry run of the halftime show. And at the end of practice, when I’m walking out to my car, one of the freshman cheerleaders catches up with me.

“I’m really excited to be on your team next year. You’re like, such a good coach. I love that you don’t let Miss Caine be all, like, mean to you and stuff.”

I wrinkle my nose. “If you let someone be mean to you, they’ll learn they can.” I can be proud that I embody that sentiment, even when it feels like it’s to my own detriment.

She waves me off, getting into a small SUV with oxidizing paint, a tired woman behind the wheel. Just as I’m about to toss my duffle in my backseat, Jo Jo approaches me.

“Hey, Miss Riley,” she offers, slightly out of breath from her efforts to catch me before I go.

“Hey, Jo Jo,” I greet, slamming my backseat door closed. “Good job today at practice. I’m sorry that comment was made.”

She waves it off, like she didn’t internalize it. Then again, hard physical effort after stress and trauma does help thebrain let go a little. I know after everything with Michael went down, I took a ten mile run, and my brain really did stop its incessant circling. I hope this is the case for her, and she’s not just hiding her pain from that comment.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to say thanks for moving me up. I mean, I know I’ve been on JV for a while now but… I don’t know if I ever said thank you for it.” She smiles, ear to ear, and while I feel kind of shitty about my run in with Cadence, her happiness is mildly contagious.

I smile, too. Then my eyes dart around the remaining vehicles in the parking lot, searching for that faded black truck. But nothing. “You got a ride, right?”

She tips her head toward the old Mustang behind us. “Rawley Colt said he’d drive me.”

Jake flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but want to please him, even in this situation. “Your dad knows a boy is picking you up and driving you home?”

She chews her lip, color flooding her cheeks.

“Jo Jo,” I warn as she steps closer to me, almost bouncing as she says, “I know, I know.”

---