I was a cheerleader in high school.
Yes, I’ve heard all of the jokes.
No, I did not forget my skirt.
No, I never tried to look up the girls’ skirts.
Yes, I had a girlfriend…well, kind of…it was a work-in-progress. In progress for about five years, but I knew, eventually, that it would work out. Maybe two days after the senior prom or three days prior to her moving across the world like “Carmen Sandiego” and I would try to track her down.
She was a cheerleader, so, I thought, to spend more time with her, I would try out for the squad. It wasn’t too hard: the cheerleader coach had always wanted guys to use as bases to perform some aerial stunts and for some volume in the cheers…I was not required to do any of the dances but, I admit, I knew them. I could do a few well-rehearsed hip moves and leg turns that would make Madonna feel lethargic…but I felt that it would be best if I just stood by and clap or shout on command. The only person on the squad who knew that secret was my friend—who I wanted to be a bit more—Melissa Anderson.
Melissa was steamed on the day I showed up for practice. Wait, “steamed” is not the answer. More like pissed. Like, pissed on, not off, because that’s even worse and there’s a stench and staining involved. Okay, so bad mental image there, sorry.
Anyway, she actually slapped me in front of all the girls trying out because she knew that I had a guaranteed cheerleader sweater coming my way. I didn’t need a golden buzzer to go to the finals. The other potential tryouts—there were twenty for five slots—had to practice and perform three group cheers, a stunt, and one dance routine to that bonafide, will never get old for a million years, song “Cotton Eyed Joe”. I had to some of the motions, but nothing that required a kick above my head—even though I knew I could do it.
There were two other guys who obtained a spot in the winner’s circle: Mike and Chad. Mike had played football for three years but injured a tendon in his leg and ruined his ability to run at full speed. His injury did not prevent him from lifting his own weight on a barbell nor did it stop his booming voice. Chad was a star on the basketball court but decided he wanted to do something different, so he turned in doing half-court baskets to basket tosses. Compared to them, I should have put on a shell, skirt and some ribbons in my hair and tired out with the girls. Where, because rhythm was not one of my strong points, I would have been thrown out of the competition after the first round.
So, the cheer squad for my senior year consisted of eighteen girls and three guys. The only person I wanted to work with was Melissa, but, instead, I found myself teamed up on most stunts with Heather, a smaller junior who never wanted to make small talk. She was always business. Timing, choreography, weight-training; Heather had cheerleading her blood. My blood ran hot because Mike worked with Melissa a lot and it annoyed me; but, I didn’t make a fuss, didn’t make a huge deal out of it because Melissa was my ride home from school after practice.
“You should do the dance routine.”
“I am not going to perform the moves for ‘Rumpshaker’.”
“Why not?” Melissa asked as she shifted into fifth gear.
“I don’t wanna zoom-a-zoom-zoom-zoom and a poom-poom. You do know what ‘poom poom’ means, right?”
Melissa drove like Danica Patrick and she never got pulled over.
“Yeah, and I’m trying to talk Andrea out of it.”
Andrea was the head cheerleader and was always a cheery, happy, “hey, how ya doing” kind of person until someone makes changes on her. Then she became a demon born of hellfire and scorn. She had picked the song and the routine.
“I don’t want to even be in the same state when you tell her.”
Melissa grinned and then accelerated.
“Did you ever get the airbag repaired?”
“Not yet. Dad’s waiting for something else to break down.”
I pulled my seat back as far as I could.
“Aw, c’mon. I’m a safe driver.”
“You’re a careful driver.”
“Same thing.”
“The speed limit is 65 and you’re near, is that ninety?”
“Only eighty-five.
“Only,” I replied with a nod and raised eyebrows. “Are we trying to match Han in the Kessel Run?”
“I’ll have you know; I know what means. Mr. Smarty-guy.”
“From whom?”
“From Mike.”
I really wanted to hate Mike right then, but, since I hadn’t tried to make a move on Melissa myself in the past five years I knew her why was I getting so worked up into wishing Mike instantaneous death, or a maiming by wild animal or, worse yet: an extreme bout of food poisoning from the previous day’s burrito day in the cafeteria?
I mean, Melissa and I were friends, we always had been, and she never dropped any hints that she liked me other than that. Sure, we’d stick up for each other. Yes, we would have heart to heart talks about how life sucks at times and yeah, we also talked about what would happen in the future: she would be dating “The Rock” and I just threw out the name of an actress that I heard of at the time. Perhaps Cassandra Peterson was not the best choice at that moment.
“Make sure you’re ready to leave on tomorrow.”
“I will be,” I replied as Melissa took a sharp right to get off the interstate.
Tomorrow was the day the eighteen of us would leave for Central University for a week of “Cheer Camp”. I was quasi-thrilled to learn that the girl to guy ratio would be at least a hundred to one and those were great odds if one were searching for a long-distance relationship or perhaps a short fling somewhere on campus. My mind almost went into hentai territory as I envisioned myself and Melissa in a corner somewhere, but I snapped back. It wasn’t good to have a glassy-eyed stare when she was right next to me—and seemingly about to rear-end a late model Mercedes in front of us.
Melissa dropped me off in front of my apartment building. We said our goodbyes and she took off down the road like her car could fly. I lived on a second-floor apartment with my mom. Dad? He was usually out of the country…a part of the divorce that mom was fine with. There were times that I talked with him, but for the most part he would send me a postcard or a letter. He would call every lunar eclipse or so.
“Lin, is that you?”
“Yeah, mom” I replied.
“When were you going to tell me?”
I couldn’t tell if she was worried, mad, curious, or if she finally found out the vodka bottle only had water in it.
“About?”
“You’re a cheerleader?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Mom walked out of the living room and stared at me like I had grown a second head or a tail.
“What?”
“It’s just something I didn’t expect you to do.”
“That makes two of us.” I replied as I walked down the hall to my room.
"The school sent a permission slip and some paperwork about a cheer camp. Mind telling me when you’re going to talk about that?"
"Surprise?" I opened the door to my room and sat my backpack next to the bed.
“You’re the one who is going to be surprised. Cheerleading takes a lot of work.”
“Not for me. I just get to stand, clap and shout most of the time.”
“No moves?” Mom asked and then crossed her arms in front of her in disagreement.
“I’ll let Melissa and rest of the girls on the squad do that.”
“Five years of gymnastics and you just want to stand and clap?”
“Hey, it looks good on a college transcript, right?”
Mom huffed and then looked down at the papers.
“You were going to wait until Sunday to tell me about this, weren’t you?”
“We leave tomorrow morning.”
“Lin! What were you thinking?”
“I’d just go in the morning with Mel. Walmart’s open twenty-four hours.”
“Lindell Julius Armitage! You need the correct shoes, shorts and workout shirts.”
“These are fine,” I replied as I lifted my dark grey and if-they-get-wet-my-socks-get -soaked, has seen better days running shoes.
“You need new clothes.”
I rolled my eyes. I hated shopping with extreme prejudice. If asked to either go shopping or allow my right hand to be crushed, then I would learn to write as a southpaw. Besides the time wasted looking at ridiculously priced but made by the lowest bidder merchandise, I would have to put up with mom talking about clothes and showing me various things, I didn't want to look at, acknowledge, or try on.
We arrived at the store and I felt like waking towards the street and stepping right into traffic—ANYTHING to avoid going inside any store whatsoever. If it couldn’t be purchased off of Amazon or eBay.com, then it wasn’t needed. My clothes were fine. A little worn, maybe. My shoes, yes, they were falling apart but I didn’t care.
“You cannot go to cheer camp looking like you’re from Hooverville.”
“From where?”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s find some clothes for you. Do NOT complain about the prices. That’s my job.”
I rolled my eyes. If only Mom was like that when I “needed” a PlayStation 4. I couldn’t care less so I haphazardly went through the clothes: warm-ups, shirts, socks and just picked up what looked like fit me based on sizes. Except for the shoes. I figured that I would get the best pair of shoes that I could…even if they were a very expensive set ofNike’s.
I brought the gear to the checkout and Mom’s expression at the sight of the price tag on the shoes made her switch out cards. I pulled my hair from off my face and lashed it into a ponytail.
“You said not to get all hyped about the price. They’ll last a while.”
“They’re white, Lin. You’re going to need to take care of them. You should get some water-protection.”
“Why?”
Mom leaned in and whispered in a low roar. “If I’m buying a pair shoes that costs almost as much as a car note then I want them to last.”
“Well, we could put these back and start my car fund? I’m for that.”
“Go back to the department and get some Scotchguard.”
“Some what?”
“It’s a spray. It helps protect materials from water.”
I trudged out at first but then took off in a light sprint—figuring the faster I got this spray the faster we could leave. I had survived the entire time without anyone talking to me except for someone to find the pair of shoes I requested. The guy’s expression was a bit weird when I asked for a size nine-five. I didn’t care, I just wanted to get it over with.
“Miss!” Someone said from behind me.
I kept on with my pace.
“Miss!” the same voice, but louder, “I need you to stop running.”
I stopped to see who was running behind me and met up with an older man with a clipboard in his hands. He wore a store uniform.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, you need to stop running.”
All I could do was frown.
I sat in the passenger’s seat and glared out the window.
“What are you mad about?” Mom asked as she started the car.
“He called me ‘miss’. Continuously, mom.”
“He just wanted you to stop running.”
“He became my shadow as I walked the rest of the way, got the spray and walked back to the register.”
Mom chuckled a bit. I failed to see what was funny about it.
“Maybe you should cut your hair.”
“No way.”
“That might stop the confusion.”
“Not my problem.” I replied as I turned to her.
“Then you can’t complain when a sixty-year-old man calls you ‘miss’."
“Slash didn’t have to worry about anyone calling him a girl.”
“From the back he might have. People wore some strange stuff in the nineties.”
“I’ll grow a beard.”
“And be a lumberjack one day?”
“A what?” I asked as mom just smirked. “You’re weird, mom”
“I’m a parent, it’s my job. Let’s stop for Subway.”
“No thank you,” I replied with a huff as any form of meat from a store like that combined with a bus ride would equal everyone unable to breathe for the duration of the bus ride and if that was too much information for you, think about I felt when I learned of my condition and it was more than just flatulence.
“You can get a veggie.”
“Not helping, mom.”
“Tuna salad?”
“There is not a smidgen of fish in that and you know it.”
“It’s not meat, at least.”
Instead of offering an alternative, she turned the car into the parking lot, parked in front of the door and handed a card over to. “Italian BMT, dressed and some Sun Chips.”
“Would you like to super-size it too?”
“Yes, a large is fine.”
I took the card, got out and closed the door. Mom could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a pound. I could barely eat anything without some gastro-intestinal issue occurring. Some people assumed I was rude when I would decline a taco or a slice of pizza. I would have to tell them over how much I wanted to have a gnosh of what was once sweet manna from the heavens that was a Doritos Locos but would have to decline. Not that I would wish it on anyone, but, if I could bottle it and sell it—without being sued by the FDA—I’d have more money than Elon Musk.
The restaurant’s lights were ultra-bright with the neon flashing off the yellow and green. I had to wince a little bit and adjust my eyes.
“Welcome to Subway.” The lone guy behind the counter said.
I blinked a few times and waved to him.
“What can I get for you?”
“Umm, a large Italian, everything on it, and some chips.”
He nodded and proceeded with getting the bread. I turned around to see mom sitting in the car with the headlights on. I stared at her for a few minutes wondering why the lights, and the engine it seemed, were still on. Did she want me to just dash and grab a sandwich? Probably she wanted to keep the air conditioner at negative thirty degrees. I pivoted my feet and spun around to see the guy behind the counter dart his eyes from a downward direction towards me and back to the prep line.
Was he staring at my butt while making a sandwich?
I turned back around, partially in shock, partially in frustration and maybe just a smidgin of astonishment. It was one of those times where you hoped a charter bus full of seasoned adults would pull-up so you wouldn’t have to make strange small talk.
“Umm, what kind of cheese?”
I turned back to answer and looked at his face. Maybe looking was the wrong way, I was fairly sure I had stared to try to get a reading from him as he looked at me.
Well, maybe he was just waiting for my response.
“Provolone,” I replied as I looked away quickly as that moment, I felt like dropping to the floor in utter embarrassment on how I felt inside. I mean, I was on the squad to be closer to Melissa. I chose to be on it to see the girls.
Yes…yes, I did it to talk about it later, perhaps in group therapy or at a bar, but…the more I thought of it the more I was kind of put off at myself. It was a Hell of a time to have a crisis of the mind as I couldn’t understand why I was feeling that way at all. Maybe if I tried to do a low, manly-sounding growl I could assert dominance over the situation.
“Do you go to Wyatt?”
Wyatt was a special arts school a few miles away, but they had a rather good football team for an arts school.
“No, I’m from Roosevelt.”
“A Ranger huh?”
“Yeah. I’m one of the cheerleaders.”
The record scratched very loud in my head as he continued to lay multiple slices of cheese. The meat also appeared to be more than what was normally placed on a sandwich.
“I thought you were.”
“Really?”
“You got the build.”
I only nodded at that as I had to wonder what he would have said if he did not think it would annoy me.
“My name’s Tony.”
“Lin”
“Short for Linda?”
“No, just Lin,”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m okay,” I replied with a slight smile and a wave of my hand.
There was a short delay as he continued to pile on vegetables and oils, so much that I was convinced the sandwich would break apart if he tried to close it.
“Well, would you mind if I asked you something?”
“Go ahead.” I’m thinking, ‘this night’s been kind of funny already, so, what the hell…ask away’
“Can I have your number?”
I’m sure I had a dumbstruck look on my face.
My face.
A part of me was glad at times that I didn’t have to shave as much as anyone else had to. Melissa and mom would sometimes comment on “Mr. Babyface”. I tried to grow a goatee, but it was nigh invisible and itched like mad, so I shaved it off and cut myself in a few places.
My face and my hair, now behind my face, MIGHT have made me look a bit feminine. I had to wonder if hanging around the other girls of the squad…OTHER girls?
No, I was one of the two guys brought on, but I wasn’t like Mike. Nope, wasn’t like him at all.
“I’m. I’m a guy.”
“And?”
I admit, I didn’t have a response to that.
“I just mean, I like what I see and hear,” he said as he folded the sandwich over with a large knife, not breaking eye contact with me.
“Seriously?” I asked with eyes wide open.
The bread looked flawless. It was like ones on a commercial: ultimate perfection.
“Never had anyone tell you that before?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
He wrapped the footlong in multiple sheets of folded paper. Grinder origami, I suppose as he spoke:
“Just never sure about how people feel. You run to embrace people you think have a connection and they don’t understand, or we think they won’t. I used to feel that way. But, one day, I decided to throw it all to the wind and go for my dreams.”
“Impressive,” I replied as he threw the hoagie into a bag in what looked like a bartender trick.
“No, you are impressive, Linda. Don’t forget your chips.”
“Lindell. My name is Lindell.”
I picked up a random bag of chips.
“Which do you prefer?”
“I go by Lin.”
“Go by however you want to, stupendous one.”
He handed me a pen and a ‘Subclub’ card.
I pondered for a second on whether or not to leave my number. I mean, I could clearly see I was being hit on and, to be honest, it was euphoric. I could never recall anyone flirting with me. I think I sorely misinterpret politeness as flirting. Melissa never flirted with me. She was a friend; she had always been just a friend. I could be Thomas J to Melissa’s Veda and be killed by bee stings before it got through my head that it was never going to happen between us. Maybe we were too much alike and, most likely, I was in the permanent friend zone and was oblivious.
Or, maybe we were just supposed to be friends and Melissa knew it…maybe she knew more about me than I did…and that I shouldn’t have won a position as one of the guys on the cheer squad.
“I’ll be at cheer camp this week,” I said as I wrote my number down.
“Then please expect my call next week when you return, my cute one.”
“You think I look cute?”
“Absolutely,” he replied as he traded the card for the sandwich. “And let not another tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
I grabbed the bag—the chips had been placed in the top—most likely in the moments that my attention was distracted.
“It was my pleasure. Is that your mom?”
I turned to see mom standing outside the door with her hand pointing at a non-existent watch on her wrist.
“Yeah.”
“What took you so long” Mom asked as we got back into the car. True to form, it was freezing cold and what little hair I had on my legs bristled.
“We were talking a bit.”
“About what?
“He goes to Wyatt.”
“You sound, chippy.”
I couldn’t see mom’s expression in the darkness, but it sounded like she was smiling.
“I’m not, chippy, as you say, I just feel better about things at the moment.”
“We may need to come back to this place so I can ask him what he did to the kid I sent in to get me a sandwich. Also, this feels like it weighs a ton.”
“Probably does. I think he triple-stacked it.”
“How much was it?”
“Nothing,” I said with a shrug.
“Are you telling me that he just threw on an obscene amount of everything and just gave it to you?”
“The chips too.”
The bus stopped at a truck stop somewhere between the town of Rock Bottom and Nopeville—only because Chad stated that if we didn’t stop then he would have to test what part of the restroom was actually broken. So, there we were, in a place that had a diner attached to the store where the waitresses ended all of their sentences with the word “hon”.
I walked a few steps in front of Melissa among the giggling of several girls as I tried to cover my hands but then thought, “screw it, they’re red,” and walked through the store to the restroom.
I was about to pull on the door when a very large and bearded man opened the door from the inside, nearly knocking me over.
"Sorry, miss, you don’t want to go in there.”
I was just about to take offense when Melissa grabbed my arm. “He’s right, Lin, come on.”
“Melissa!” I stammered as she flung me into the open door of the ladies room. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“Get in the rear stall, now!”
I ran down to the last one, scampered in as soon as the door locked, other members of the squad came in. I did what little business I had to do and just sat there, stranded, because if I opened the door and walked out there would be so many shrieks and screams one would assume someone was being murdered…which would have been me as soon as Andrea or Mrs. Humphrey found out.
A part of me wanted to yell a few choice words at Melissa and the other part was amazed at how clean the floor was.
“Coast is clear. C’mon and open the lock!”
“Well, you ordered me in here,” I replied as I opened the door and looked at face in the mirror. “Do I have lipstick on?”
“Yes, so you see, it wouldn’t have been a good idea to go into the men’s room. That one guy would have freaked if you stormed past him.”
“Next question.”
“I already know what it is, but go ahead.”
“Why do I have lipstick on?”
While I never actually tired putting lipstick on, I had always wondered about it. Melissa had threatened to put some on me and it appears she was able to do so. At least she didn’t soak my hands in water…that would have been a disaster of Niagara Falls proportions.
“Because it looks good on you. We need to get back to the bus.”
“Why, so you can put my hair in pigtails?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Melissa replied as she opened the door, saw the coast was clear, and then flung me out of the restroom by arm. I was about an inch away form topping over a display filled with shot glasses. It would have been a great YouTube video.
Melissa purchased a Dr. Pepper and a water for me and we high-tailed it to the bus.
“We are this close to leaving you here!” Andrea yelled as she held up a finger…her middle one.
“Point made, Andrea,” Melissa said with a bow as we got back on the bus. Unfortunately, now that we were the center of attention, everyone on the bus could see the beginning of said make-up session. I wanted to turn around and just stay at the truck stop, have a slice of cherry pie and maybe a cup of coffee; but, Melissa would not let me. She simply shoved me past everyone until we got to our seat.
I quickly sat down, got out my Zune, slammed on my headphones and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see all the eyes staring at me. Melissa nudged my shoulder.
“I’m not talking to you right now,” I whispered.
“Well, I’m talking yo you,” she replied as she moved my left headphone off of my ear. “So stop the music.”
I paused the song, opened my eyes and took off my headphones.
The bus lurched forward and we were on our way once again. It wasn’t the best place or time to have second thoughts about everything but it in my mind it was the best time to have a mid-teenage life crisis…especially when I had on nail polish and lipstick.
“Listen, no one is laughing at you. Well, maybe Chad and Mike, I’m not sure if they evens saw anything, but, everyone else thinks it either impressive or are just for it. You do your thing.”
“Melissa, this is ‘your thing’, not mine,” I waved my fingers at her as I said it.
“You seem comfortable with it.”
“Melissa, I—”
“—What? You look very cute. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“No.”
“Not even this Toni girl?”
“No, they didn’t state it that way.”
“They?”
I threw my head back against the seat and closed my eyes again.
“Did he say you were cute?”
My eyes flashed open and I stared at her like a deer in headlights.
“Was he cute? Go ahead, let’s hear it.”
If ever there was time to stand up, throw the switches to release the windows, jump, tuck and roll out of that bus, that was it. I could feel the sweat on my face and arms. Melissa was this close to outing me when I didn’t even know I was actually locked in the metaphorical closet.
“You know, if he saw you now, he’d think even more about you. Did he know you a guy?”
“Yes and no, I mean, maybe he did but I told him I was a guy.”
“Fascinating.” Melissa replied as she handed me the bottle of water.
“Ever have your girlfriend try to give you a makeover?” Chad asked Bryan. “And you know you can’t tell her no, right?”
“Especially his,” Mike replied.
“No one can say no to her,” I said as I threw my hair back, which was probably the least ‘manly’ thing I could have done at that moment as it made me look as I was doing some sort of make-up shoot.
Bryan and Rick slowly nodded and then motioned us to follow them.
“You got the doors marked red. Two guys to a dorm.”
“What’s your choice, Lin?” Chad asked.
“The key cards will open either door for your school. We have to be on the far end of the gym in about thirty minutes. We’ll see you guys there.”
“Catch you later then, Bry,” Chad shouted as he opened the dorm room and took a step in. “My God, it’s worse than a Motel 6 and there’s no minibar.”
“If my portable refrigerator still works…”
“Oh, that’s you had.”
“Yeah, that’s what I had, doofus,” Mike answered as the door clicked closed.
I opened the door across the hall and walked into my home for the week.
It was barren: a bed, a desk, dresser and something that could pass as a rug. The sheets and pillows looked ‘hostel-issue’ but I wasn’t going to complain as long as the AC worked.
I laid my backpack on the desk and lifted the duffel onto the bed. I felt bad about Melissa’s bag and shook my head on how we were almost late for bus neither of us bothered to make sure our stuff was actually loaded up. Perhaps Melissa could borrow some items or maybe Mrs. Humphrey would have Melissa call her dad and then drive back three hundred miles to retrieve the bag.
I unzipped the tip of the bag and a large black cord poked out.
“What is that? I asked to absolutely nobody as I reached into the bag and my hand touched up against a plastic bag. “What is this?”
I pulled the bag out and saw it was an unopened pack of underwear. Girls’ underwear to be specific.
I dropped that bag on the floor like it was on fire.
“Definitely not mine,” I whispered as I felt my heart race. “This has to be Melissa’s bag.”
I yanked at the cord and a curling iron flew out of and landed on the bed.
“Yo, Lin!” Chad shouted as he knocked on the door. “We gotta get across the field.”
“Yeah, I’ll be right out.
Three hours, twenty-two minutes and forty-six seconds later, the bus rolled onto the campus of Central Valley University, our home for the next six days. The school had multiple dorm rooms, a massive amount of building including a gym and a stadium that most likely had more money sunken into it than the town could really afford. I kind of thought about putting in an application to attend.
The bus lurched to a halt as everyone picked up trash and the stuff they brought with them. Melissa took the empty water from me and tossed it in a trash bag that was making its way to the back of the bus. Mrs. Humphrey stood up at the front of the bus.
“Everyone listen up!”
We all stopped what we were doing and looked to her.
“Girls, you have been assigned to Rasche Hall. And guys,” she looked at me for a moment and her eyes kind of widened, but then looked beyond me to Chad and Mike. “You will be in Brown Hall. Now we’re going to calmly get off the bus and go to registration. Your bags will be unloaded and locked in a designated area.”
I walked off the bus with Melissa walking behind me.
“Maybe you should be in Rasche Hall with me.”
“You’re hilarious, more so than usual.”
“Who would know?” She asked with a shrug.
“Everyone on this bus, for one.”
“Psssh, like that matters.”
I stepped off of the bus, hoisted my backpack up and stood next to the rest of the group.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Chad asked.
Mike and Chad stood next to us on the sidewalk. They’re expressions were not a ‘hey, look at the crazy guy’ but more of puzzlement.
“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” I replied.
“Are you planning on wearing a skirt or shorts?” Mike asked.
“Don’t you think it looks good?” Melissa held my free hand out to show them the nail polish.
Yes, I had the feeling to once again to either faint dead away or to run for the literal hills, which were just a few miles away.
Chad nodded. “You do you.”
Mike shook his head and sighed as our group marched forward to a large building with a large banner reading “World Cheerleading Council” stretching over the doors.
“Are you wearing lipstick?” Mike asked.
I nodded.
“Melissa, is he your personal make-up model?”
“Do you want to be my next artistic marvel?” Melissa asked with a subtle flirty hint to her voice.
“I could use a little hair work, maybe.”
“Oh, I can do a lot more.”
“We noticed,” Chad replied as we stepped into the building.
The hallway was crowded with cheerleaders, advisors, coaches and administrators.
Two guys, each wearing a shirt that read ‘WCC’ came over and motioned to Mike and Chad. “What school are you from?”
“Roosevelt.”
“Awesome. Great to see you here!” The first one said.
“Once you are checked in, we need all of the guys to meet on the far side of the gymnasium.” The second guy said.
“Just two from your school?”
Melissa grabbed my arm and hustled me forward. “Let’s see if we have our room assignments, Lin.”
“You guys ready for this week?”
“It’s going to be…interesting,” Chad replied.
I looked back for a second but then turned to face Melissa.
“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”
“I’m worried about whatever your plan is.”
“My plan is for you to realize who you are.”
“I know who I am, Melissa.”
“You sure?”
We walked into the sprawling gymnasium and I had to squint to see the other side. It was mor like a stadium than a simple gym. We could all take the field and there would be room for a band, football team, perhaps a LaCrosse and a doubles tennis match.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You will learn, young Padawan.”
You can’t say that unless—”
“It’s from “Star Wars”. So, ha!”
“I think I’ll go with the guys.”
“And explain all or this?” Melissa asked as she raised one of my hands up.
“Yeah, I’ll blame you for it.”
“Just hang out here for a bit. At least until Mrs. Humphrey says something.”
“Or Andrea,” I sighed as I looked around for her.
“If you can do anything at all that will get us high marks at the end of the week, then she won’t care.”
“Wait a minute, what do you mean high marks?”
“It’s a cheer camp, there will always be some kind of competition. You know that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” A voice boomed over the PA system.
Everyone turned to a young man, maybe in his early twenties, who stood on top of a platform in the middle of the gym. “My name is Zachary and welcome to the WCC—World Cheerleader Council—cheer camp!”
There was an eruption of applause and giggles from most of the crowd of girls. I sighed as I should have standing with Mike and Chad; but if I was, then I would have been thinking I wanted to stand with Melissa and the other girls.
“Each school will be given a name tag and a colored lanyard to identify your school. Now, let me introduce you my fellow staff members!”
“He does cute, in a small guy kind of way. What do you think, Lin?”
“I don’t have any opinion about him.”
“Is Tony better looking?’
‘I’m not answering that.”
“I think the guy on the right looks good. Muscular legs and arms…probably a few other areas, am I right?”
“Melissa,” I whispered through gritted teeth.
“Does Tony have a lot of muscles?”
“I wasn’t looking at his body.”
“Oh, but you were looking at him, right?”
I could feel the blood rush to my face for the eighth time that day as I tried to ignore Melissa’s commentary about each staff member who walked, jumped, ran and yelled at the podium in order to get a reaction from the crowd. There were eight women and four men, counting Zachary and each of them riled the crowd to a crescendoed frenzy one would think we were at a NIN concert.
Ten minutes later, Mrs Humphrey gathered us together and handed out lanyards and badges. The badges had our room assignments and also appeared to be the key to gain entry to our dorm rooms.
“Let’s unload the bus!”
Our group followed the crowd out the door once again.
Mike and Chad met up with us before we arrived at the front door.
Mike made a gesture of “after you” to Melissa and she grabbed onto both of our hands.
“I think this is going to be a great week!”
“I’m sure it will be,” Mike replied with a smile.
I wanted to let go of Melissa’s hand and just blend into the crowd, but she held onto my hand like she was ready to crush it.
I didn’t reply but Mike smiled at her as we walked to the bus.
A lot of the squad ran ahead to be the first to grab their things so all of the bays were open.
Chad threw two large duffel bags out and onto the ground.
“What if I had something breakable in there?” Mike asked.
Chad shrugged as he picked up one of tossed large bags.
There was one bag remaining. I looked at Melissa and then at the other bays—all of them were empty.
Melissa reached in, pulled the bag out and opened the zipper.
“This one’s yours,” she replied and then zipped it up.
“It looks more like yours.”
”No, mine has a broken zipper. Take it. Mrs. Humphery, we’re missing a bag.”
“What?” Mrs. Humphery barked as she took off her sunglasses and looked into the now entry bay. “Who’s missing a bag?”
“Mine,” Melissa replied and raised her hand.
“I’ll need to call the school and we’ll need to see what we need to do.”
“I’m sure it will all come together,” Melissa said with a shrug.
I stared at her with my jaw hanging open. Melissa, the one who always wanted to have just the right outfit, right down to the underwear, available if she needed it. Melissa, the one who would pack a curling iron and a regular iron with her, just in case.
“I mean if I gotta was this and wear it again, then I’ll okay.”
“Did you forget it on the bus?”
“No, I just took my backpack onto the bus,” Melissa replied as she hoisted said backpack onto her shoulders.
“Everyone’s supposed to get a t-shirt and a pair of shorts for the week. We’ll have to see about getting you a few extra ones.’
‘That will work, Mrs. H.”
I still looked at her dumb founded.
“I’m good. I’m fine. It will be like getting to wear a new uniform each day.”
“But all of your stuff?” I asked.
“Pssh, I’m good.”
“Alright, you guys are in Richards Hall, which is down this path and to the right. Melissa, come with me.”
I picked up my bag and walked next to Chad and Mike.
“Your friend is a character,” Chad said with a whistle.
“She sure is,” I replied,
“Tell me about it,” Mike said with a grin.
“Dude, there is almost a 1:100 ratio here.” Chad raised his hands and pointed around as we walked into the quad area. There were multiple buildings with six of them marked with WCC banners,
“Yeah, but I’m kind of liking her. She’s growing on me.”
“Careful, or you may turn into one her projects, like Lin.”
“Did you let her do that to you?”
“I was asleep,” I replied as he we walked up to the door to Richards Hall.
Two guys with black lanyards stood next to the door.
“Dudes, welcome to the dorm. I’m Rick and this is Bryan.” Rick then turned his attention to me and pointed to his left. ‘Your dorm is over there with the girls.”
“I’m Chad, this is Mike and Lin.’
‘Seriously? You’re a guy?” Bryan asked.
A fist pounded on my bedroom door several times sometime between o’dark thirty and oh-hell-no o’clock. Melissa—not waiting for answer—threw the door open and then threw off my comforter. Great thing for the both of us that I slept in a t-shirt and shorts.
“We got an hour to get to the school before the bus departs.”
“And we’ll get there in five minutes,” I groggily replied as I kicked the blanket back on top of me.
“My dad’s driving.”
I whisked the blanket off and then bounced up and out of bed. Mr. Anderson believed in driving precisely five miles BELOW the speed limit. He once stated it was best for the engine and that if you really needed to speed to get to your destination then you needed to get your carcass in gear and leave early.
I made a mad dash to grab my backpack, Zune player charger cable, sleeping bag and a “Jefferson Rangers” duffel bag packed with my clothes for the week. Melissa grabbed the sleeping and duffel bags and went to place them in the car as I got dressed in a new school shirt that we were to all wear on the first day to camp. I also decided to wear my new shoes—while hiding my old ones under the far side of my bed: Mom would have to put in some effort in any search and destroy mission.
“Toothbrush?” Mom asked.
“Yes.” I replied as I tied my shoes.
“Deodorant?”
“Do I look like I'm twelve?”
“Do you want her to answer that or should I?” Melissa asked as she raced in and grabbed my pillow from off the bed.
“Neither.” I replied.
“Besides, Lin, you don’t look a day above eleven,” mom replied as I zipped the duffel bag.
No sooner had I closed the bag, Melissa whisked it away and—literally-threw it out of the room.
I clutched my backpack and snarled at the both of them.
Mr. Anderson sat behind the wheel of a late model Ford Explorer as Melissa, this time gingerly, took my backpack and then closed the tailgate.
Melissa then got into the SUV and sat on the opposite side of me with a large space between us—well, relatively large. For a second or two I felt shocked and unloved, but, again, there were only two of us in the row and it wasn’t like we were going out. I clenched my teeth in the darkness as I confused about what I wanted. I loved the camaraderie we shared. We told each other almost everything, stopping short of dating advice or asking “who’s the cuter guy…for apparently obvious reasons up until yesterday. I wanted to tell her what happened but I thought Mr. Anderson would overhear—as Melissa could seldom keep her voice above a low roar—and I would be riding on the luggage rack.
Or maybe, maybe he would feel even safer I was with his daughter.
I laid my head back for what seemed like a second only to be awaken by a slap to the face, courtesy of Melissa. We were at the school with a charter bus idling next to the curb. I dreaded it was going to be a school bus, but instead, it was something much better.
“Melissa, Lin! Get over here!” Andrea—somehow was bright-eyed and awake—motioned for us too haul our butts to the rest of the group.I grabbed my backpack and duffel bag and ran ahead. Andrea grabbed the duffel and threw it onto the cargo hold. I clutched my backpack like Gollum.
Melissa followed behind, carrying a katamari-style ball of stuff which she shoved it into the bus. She then turned back to her dad and waved. I waved as well until Andrea grabbed my arm.
“On the bus, now!”
The bus was large enough that everyone could pretty much have their own seat and for the most part, everyone was. Melissa plunked herself in a seat and ordered me to sit with her—on the outside—across the aisle from other members of the squad that I had maybe talked to twice.
“Attention,” Mrs. Humphrery, our advisor and coach stood at the front of the bus with Andrea’s clipboard. “We should be at the college in five hours. The restroom is not working”
“We could just press up against the windows.”
“Disgusting and not happening, Miss Anderson.”
“How did she hear me?” Melissa whispered to me.
“I’m a math teacher, I hear everything,” Mrs. Humphery replied while looking at the clipboard.
I shrugged my shoulders at Melissa’s questioning face.
“As said before. No. Cell. Phones. They are not allowed on campus. You should not even have one with you right now.”
The glow from a few screens immediately went out.
“We have everyone, so let’s get going, girls and guys.”
The bus engine roared to life and the inside lights dimmer further.
“You can go back to sleep,” Melissa said as she picked her backpack up and took out a bottle of nail polish.
“You’re going to do your nails here? On a bus?”
Melissa lowered the stowed tray on the seat in front of her. “Yes. Cherry Cordial. It’s a low odor version.”
“What if we hit some sort of bump?”
“Then I’ll replace your shirt or sweats. Whichever gets more on it.”
I looked at her for a second and, knowing she was serious, decided to do just as she suggested. I just hoped I wouldn’t snore.
“If I snore, wake me up.”
“No problem,” Melissa replied as she removed the cap.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Go with that feeling."
I turned slightly towards Melissa, in order to get a more comfortable position. The seats were nice with so much give to the back one let like they would be swallowed up by it and you didn’t have to recline the seat back into someone else’s lap. It was easy to fall to sleep.
My dreams were more difficult: filled with people laughing and voices I had never heard talking about crazy it was that I actually looked like a girl. This was not something I liked hearing in the real world, much less in my dreams. The worst part was a vision of standing in front of Tony, at Subway, or maybe it was a Dairy Queen, wearing a cheerleader uniform: the shell, the sweater, the frilly socks, my hair saturated with a bow that would make Jojo Siwa scream that I was overdoing it a bit. My nails were even painted, a light red, and my hands were caressing his face, his neck, his chest—I guess one could be a nude sandwich artist—and lower but my eyes never left his face. My hands were moving all around and I couldn’t stop them until one of them slapped me in the face and I woke up to see Melissa showing me her nails.
“See? Not a drop spilled.”
“Nice, but why did you paint mine too?” I asked as I flashed my hands.
“They look good on you and who’s Toni? Is she new?”