Page 11 of Slapshot Obsession
“There is another thing that every single one of you has gotten wrong.” Lexi adds. “You’re dancing at a hockey game, not at a funeral. You’re there to hype up the crowd, make the fans happy, and drum up excitement. So you need to smile. Kick and smile.”
The second attempt is only slightly better.
“Taryn, perfect. Gen and Jodie, still out of sync. Talia, you look terrified. And Sam, you’re kicking like my three-year-old niece. Actually, she kicks higher than you. Lift those legs. Come on, try again and… kick left, kick right and smile. Left, right, and smile. Again.”
Carole chimes in. “Talia, that’s much better. You have a gorgeous smile. I want to see it more when you dance. Gen and Jodie, much better. Sam, that’s still a disaster. Girls, I don’t care if you have a pebble in your shoe or if your underwear is riding up. When you’re out there dancing, your smile is part of your uniform and choreography. We’re a cheer team.”
We try again. And again. And a dozen more times. Keeping a smile on your face when you’re out of breath and every muscle in your body hurts—including your face because you’re smiling through all of it—is harder said than done.
Carol and Lexi, however, demand nothing but perfection. If we want to make this team, we have no choice but to reach that perfection.
“Hmm,” Carole is looking at us, rubbing her chin. “Most of you are almost there, but it still isn’t where I want it to be. There’s something that still doesn’t work in general. Maybe we need to shuffle you around. We can’t mix much based on height for this dance, but I think we need to play with the placement when it comes to your looks. We have lines of blondes, lines of brunettes, lines of brown-reddishhair. Let’s switch lines but keeping to similar heights, let’s go.”
After the shuffle, I’m no longer close to Talia. I’m between Sam and Julia, a pretty redhead.
“Much better. You girls look tired, though. Let’s do the kick line one more time. If you get it right, we’ll call it a day. Lexi and I want to see synchronicity, high kicks and big smiles. In three, two, one…”
“Excuse me, Carole.” Gen cuts in before the music starts. “But I feel like I should be in the front. My followers will be tuning in to see me, and they’ll be disappointed if I’m lost in the background. It might even hurt the reality show’s ratings.”
For a second, I feel bad for Carole. Having Gen on the team is a real challenge. Gen’s family is heavily involved in the running and financing of the team, and the long-standing friendship between their families has put Carole in an awkward position more than once. I’ve heard many of the girls whisper about the preferential treatment Gen gets. And Gen does nothing to quash those concerns by acting like a diva, like she’s doing right now.
“Gen,” the corner of Carole’s eye twitches as she struggles to keep her tone pleasant. “Your followers will have to accept the current placement. We can’t put the tallest girls in the front, or no one will see the others behind you.”
Rather than accepting Carole’s explanation, Gen snorts. “That wouldn’t be so bad. Who wants to see dancers with stubby, short legs?”
“Genevieve!” Carole snaps. “I didn’t owe you an explanation; that was a courtesy. I know for a fact you’ve been raised right, but since you set foot at camp, you seem to have forgotten every semblance of manners. If you don’t like the way Lexi and I run this training camp, there’s thedoor. Besides, your kicks are lazy. You’re one of the tallest girls on the current roster. Use those long legs and kick higher; maybe then you’ll get noticed no matter where you’re placed.”
Carole’s cutting tone seems to have the desired effect.
“Yes ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Now, one perfect kick line on my three. One, two, three.”
When the music starts from the point where we have to begin kicking, something seems to finally click.
The girls in my line and I are in perfect sync. So are the dancers in the row behind me when I check the full-length mirror that covers the entire wall behind Carole and Lexi.
For a split second, I meet Gen’s eyes. Her smile widens right before she looks away.
We’re almost at the end of our dance and I’m focusing on breathing through the exertion. I check my smile in the mirror one last time when there’s a flash of white entering my peripheral vision.
Pain blooms in the back of my head, and I fall forward.
The surprise that washes over me combined with the suddenness of the blow is such that I don’t even realize what’s happening until I feel the impact with the hardwood floor of the dance studio.
I face plant and bring my entire line down with me.
My ears are ringing as my entire body hurts; my face because of the impact and the rest because my muscles involuntarily clenched, preparing for the fall.
“Oh my God, Taryn.” Carole’s voice reaches me first as someone brushes my hair away from my neck.
“Someone call 911,” Jodie screeches. “Don’t move her; what if she has a spinal injury?”
“I don’t have a spinal injury.” I croak. “But my face hurts so bad.”
Gentle hands help me up. Carole, Lexi, and Jodie guide me to one of the chairs our trainers were using to watch our practice.
“Can anyone bring some tissues?” Carole ask no one in particular. “Her nose is bleeding.”
