Page 74 of Off Limits
I force a smile, switching off the faucet. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I’m sorry about Persia. I feel guilty I couldn’t persuade them to let her stay. I hate to say she brought it on herself, but… some girls, they don’t like being told what they can and can’t do.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say, and I watch her wipe a little tear, before checking her eyelashes in the mirror. ‘Same for Mona.’
Harmony sighs. ‘Sometimes I think… in the twenty-first century, how can they still hold us to these standards? We talk about equality, but where’s it gone? A girl can be a brain surgeon, a scientist, she can fight in the military, but heaven forbid a cheerleader should gain a few pounds.’
‘Maybe the question we should be asking is why we still have cheerleaders,’ I say, because she’s right.
‘Because we bring the family-friendly pep, remember? We bring the wholesome, we make it all shiny, before the men come along and cover everything in mud and grit and sweat.’
We laugh together. I like Harmony. A little like me, I wonder if she’s hiding things.
Behind us, I hear a flush. From the furthest stall emerges an elegant, pale-skinned woman, with cropped, jet-black hair and a pair of headphones hanging around her neck. I’ve never seen her before. She comes and stands next to me, switching on the faucet.
‘You’re athletes, ladies,’ she states as she washes her hands, looking in the mirror. ‘Just like the players. Hell, they couldn’t do what you do.’ When she’s done, she shakes her hands dry, walking backward toward the exit and giving us a wink as she goes.
‘Who was that?’ I ask, because clearly, she was listening in on our conversation.
‘Carlie Kessler,’ Harmony says with a smirk. ‘DJ Stash. Responsible for the entire sound system in the Danube. The one who plays all our music?’
‘Oh. Right,’ I say.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ Harmony says. ‘We’re gonna be late.’
Armed with our poms, on the walk from the locker room to the tunnel, we’re escorted by security. Tonight, I’m consumed with self-doubt, as though somebody’s gonna recognize me as a dancer at Surly’s. Is it inevitable? That one day they’ll all know. I have visions of myself in Sam Conway’s office as she fires me when she finds out the truth. Like Persia, I wouldn’t be allowed back. I look at the faces of my fellow cheerleaders. Seems like there are less smiles than on a usual game night. Like we all know one wrong move could spell the end of our time as CMC.
And that applies to me more than any of them.
The smiles are soon back on our faces though as we begin our set. Kathleen says that a smile puts the ‘cheer’ in ‘cheerleader’, and that a cheerleader without a smile is like a Christmas tree with no lights, or a cake without icing. I don’t see it that way. I love how being a cheerleader brings joy to others. With our smiles, we give others hope, and for just a few minutes, their problems melt away. We make it okay to believe in something better… to believe in dreams.
When I dance at Surly’s, I take zero satisfaction from it.
But this. Being in front of an entire stadium of people and lifting them up is a buzz like no other. It’s my dream. And it’s bigger than just me. I feel a part of something.
On the field, we dance and flip and high-kick our way throughGirls Girls Girls, until the players are welcomed onto the field and we break off into our smaller groups.
I can’t help but look Jake’s way, and every time I do there’s a serious scowl on his face, whether he’s on the bench or making a play.
Tonight, as it turns out, there isn’t much to cheer about. Game two of the season and the Mutineers are losing. At the final whistle, the score is seventeen to six to the opposition. I watch him shake hands with members of the other team, before most of the Mutineers players disappear back down through the tunnel toward the locker room.
‘Well, that sucked,’ Jewel mutters to me as we leave the field, smiling and waving to the thinning crowds as per our contracts. ‘Now we’re stuck with community outreach.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Come on now, Ren, don’t you keep up with the emails? You mean you didn’t sign up to anything?’
‘I’ve been busy, I guess.’
‘The next two games are away games,’ Jewel explains. ‘Meaning, the Mutineers team travels, and we got nobody to cheer for. So, we, you know… head out into the community.’
‘What was I supposed to sign up for?’
‘Visits to old folks nursing homes, being present at opening ceremonies, meeting kids in schools. The sign-up sheet went out a couple’ days ago.’
‘I must have missed that.’
Back in the tunnel, Jewel hooks her arm through mine. ‘Something on your mind?’
