Page 13 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
Riley’s secret was that she frequently cheated on her boyfriend—a secret she was barely keeping at this point.
Reed… well. I was half convinced he was only in the Top Tier because last year’s seniors were obsessed with him.
And then there was my secret. At night when I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d think about it. During practice, when I messed up a cheer, I’d think about it. In the hallways, when my gaze found one in particular, I’d think about it.
I’d humiliated my childhood best friend, all for a spot on the cheer squad.
“I swear to God, if you don’t fix your stance, Riley, I’ll shove your pom-pom where the sun doesn’t shine.”
It wasn’t a day at cheer practice if someone didn’t threaten to shove pom-poms somewhere.
It’d been hotter today than it’d been all summer, with temps peaking in the mid-nineties. Olivia rubbed a piece of ice from her water bottle along her neck. Jen’s red face hinted that if she didn’t sit down soon, her body would be doing it for her. Riley, who had missed formation for the third time now, looked on the verge of throwing in the towel. Or throwing up.
If Coach Chelsea were here, we probably would’ve called it quits a half hour ago. But since she was out of town for Labor Day weekend, and Jade, being the drillsergeant she was, refused to take the holiday off. Coach left practice up to the discretion of Jade and me.
“Is practice over, girls?” Jade’s voice reached shrill levels. “I don’t think so! Let’s go, let’s go!”
Or, really, practice was up to the discretion ofJade. There was only ever one girl who could maintain her fierce tone even when it was hot enough to melt into a puddle, and that was Jade Dyer.
I clapped my hands like I were rousing a dull crowd. “One last cheer, girls, and then we’ll break for the day.”
Everyone except for Jade groaned. Her eyes sliced to mine.
I took my spot at the opening beside her, tightening my ponytail. The routines hadn’t changed much over the years, which made them near muscle memory now. Though the main objective of the Brentwood Babes was to do small chants on the sidelines at games, to pump up the student section, there were routines we performed during halftime while the band played.
And we needed to nail those, because the band geeksreallydidn’t pull their weight in the performance department.
Despite the heat, the girls snapped to attention, and we powered through the rhythmic choreography.
“B-R-E-N-T, Bobcats bring the energy!”
On the “B,” our arms shot up in a sharp high V, fists tight, shoulders squared. Each letter was a clean motion—right diagonal, left diagonal, down to a T, then back up into the high V again—snapping with each shout like the crack of a whip.
“W-O-O-D, Bobcats bring the victory!”
The back row popped up with spirit fingers overhead while the front row sank low into a crouch.
“Fight! Win! Never back down?—”
Jen, Riley, and I locked hands just as Jade stepped into our basket, and with a silent three-count, we thrust her into a trophy pose to round out the cheer.
“Blue and gold will take this town!”
My arms strained with more effort than normal, fighting to keep Jade balanced as she stuck out her arms above us. Someone wasn’t holding correctly, and if it was any judge from the puff of Riley’s cheeks, it was her.
A second later, Riley’s hand slipped on Jade’s ankle, and no amount of straining from any of us would balance her out again. Our leader dropped to the ground gracefully, but when she whirled on Riley, her gaze was filled with fire. “Are youtryingto break my leg?”
“Sure, blame me and not the fact that Jen was putting in, like,zeroeffort.” Riley shot the other cheerleader a glare.
Jen’s round mouth morphed into a furious O. “As if!”
“I don’t know why you’re blaming each other when we’re all on the same team,” I said in a firm voice. “Take a look at your own performance. Riley, you didn’t find your firm hold before the lift.” I turned to the other girl. “Jen, you put your hand too close to mine. It threw the balance off. So instead of pointing fingers, maybe see where you could’ve done things differently, yeah?”
Neither girl made eye contact. Jade watched me, but I didn’t return her look, too afraid to try and find the praise in her stare—too afraid it wouldn’t be there.
Coach Chelsea had told me last week, after our first practice as co-captains: “You are on the same level as Jade. Don’t go looking at her for approval.”
Which was almost impossible, because I looked to Jade for approval oneverything.
