Page 23 of Hell's Kitten

“Huh,” I say.

“That doesn’t feel like a good sign,” Alannah says.

“No, it does not,” I agree.

Before we can fret too much, a whistle is blown from in front of the bleachers. I turn to see a middle-aged woman in a white polo shirt and black slacks waving everyone over to her. She’s wearing thick black glasses and has an unruly bob of brown hairdown to her shoulders. The way she places her hands on her hips and sighs as we crowd around her makes me think that this woman is very tired indeed.

In contrast, a tiny Asian girl with glittery teal eye shadow stands beside her, rocking on the balls of her feet, apparently barely able to contain her excitement.

“She’s the captain,” Alannah whispers to me. That’s a relief. But I’m still wary as I watch Tara swan over and stand beside them.

“Okay! All right,” says the woman in a loud voice that has us all paying attention. “Welcome to cheerleader tryouts. If you’re here for baseball, you’re in the wrong room.”

Her joke gets a weak ripple of laughter. She sighs and shakes her head.

“Right. I am Professor Ulman. I am here to make sure that nobody breaks anything, and if youdobreak something that happens to be on a human being, I’m here to call 911. Thank you all for filling out your details in advance for insurance purposes. Now, while I go grade papers, I shall leave you in the capable hands of your brand-new captain…” Her face goes blank, and she glances at the tiny girl beside her.

“Lakelyn Jones,” she whispers.

“Lakelyn Jones!” cries Professor Ulman. “So good luck and uh…try really hardnotto break anything, ’kay?” She gives us two thumbs up and a hopeful look before spinning around and trudging back toward the back of the bleachers.

Lakelyn, on the other hand, skips up to Tara and happily takes the clipboard, then skips back to center stage, beaming at all us newbies. The current members of the squad are all sitting behind her on the bleachers, but I can see that there are a guy and a girl on the front row also with clipboards. Zazzle joins them, as does Tara. I get the feeling they must be the committee.

Okay, so if it’s them and the captain I need to impress, at least one of them already knows my name and smiled at me. That might not mean anything in the long run, but at least it gives me a little extra confidence when one of them also seemed less than friendly.

“Hey, y’all,” the tiny captain says with a strong Southern accent. “I’m Coach El, and I’ll be running your tryouts today. So the important thing to know is that there’s room for everyone to be a game-day Kitten. Goooo Panthers!”

A few of the new girls scream and clap, making me wonder if their boyfriends are on the team. Maybe that’s unfair, but in my experience, there are often a couple of girls who still only want to be a cheerleader to either get a new boyfriend or hang out with their current one.

If that’s what makes them happy, good for them. I only like going to games if the players aren’t douchebags. What I’m here for is to compete.

Lakelyn claps and jumps until the newbies calm down, then continues with her welcome speech. “Some of you have indicated that you’re interested in the competition squad, and that’s great! We only have a few spots available right now, but we always need reserves, and trust me, we’ll still be stunting at the games.”

Beside me, Alannah cracks her knuckles. I’m guessing she’s interested in competing as well. “You a base?” I lean over and ask quietly. She nods, and I look her up and down. “I reckon we’re the same height. You want to pair up for group stunt?”

Her eyes go wide. “Hell yeah,” she whispers back, and we share a quiet high five.

Lakelyn is still talking. “So first off, we’ll learn a little choreo, including a jump sequence that we’ll perform in groups. After that, we’ll spend some time stunting with the current Kittens. I’ll rotate people in and out so we can get a good sense of whatyou’re capable of. Finally, when we’re nice and tired, you can show me who can tumble. In fact—who’s got a front or back handspring?”

Several of the girls raise their hand, as do I. Alannah stiffens beside me. “Uh, I can cartwheel,” she murmurs, but I don’t think anyone else hears. My heart sinks for her. Different levels require different gymnastics, I know. But for the teams I grew up on, cheer and gymnastics were always intertwined.

“Great,” Lakelyn says genuinely. “And any tucks?”

Most of the others put their hands down. In fact, it’s only me and one other girl who don’t. Rather than feel good about this, I sense several eyes narrowing on me, including Tara’s. Not Lakelyn, though.

“Oh, wow. Nice! Okay, we’ll look forward to seeing those later. Right now, let’s dance!”

I finally lower my hand and reach over to squeeze Alannah’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t sweat it,” I tell her. “Not everyone needs to be a tumbler.”

She sighs. “Yeah, but it helps on the competition floor, doesn’t it?”

Soon, though, we’re in the thick of learning the short bit of choreography. It’s only eight counts of eight, but I’m surprised how fast Alannah picks it up. She’s a fantastic dancer, moving with real confidence and sass that makes me grin. However, her jumps aren’t all that great, and my heart pangs for her chances.

Zazzle and the other two Kittens are whooping and clapping for everyone. But Tara seems to have her own little clique sitting behind her that doesn’t look impressed by anyone other than the pretty, long-haired tumbler who had her hand up with me. She looks like she’d match their aesthetic nicely.

Alannah and me—not so much.

Still, when we get to stunting, I manage to stick with my new redheaded friend like I promised, and we get an experiencedflyer to work with, easily throwing up extended one- and two-foot shapes.

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