Page 70 of The Cheerleader

“Okay, ladies, two of you stay low,” I say. “We can still get to the game if we play it cool. Tuck down the best you can. I’m getting out to talk to the police officer at his car.” I open the door, as everyone wishes me good luck. Smoothing down my cheerleading skirt, I hope that being a UConn cheerleader might make a positive impression as I quickly walk to the police car. Then I realize we’re making a terrible impression as representatives of UConn. Shit. I go for a contrite smile.

The officer rolls down his window, immediately yelling at me. “Do you know how fast you were driving?”

Maybe it’s the fact that I didn’t actually do the speeding that keeps me calm when I speak. “I’m so sorry, officer. I really am. We’re heading to UNH for the game, and I didn’t mean to speed.” As he writes up the ticket, I feel like he’s taking his time.

“Will this take much longer? I really would like to make it to the game on time.”

He glares at me, and I give him my most beseeching expression, willing him to take mercy for all I’m worth.

He looks down at his paperwork and keeps writing. If he doesn’t hurry up, we’re not going to make the first quarter. When he finally finishes, I’m sure I’m not going to like what he’s going to tell me. At least he hasn’t gotten out of his car and gone over to ours.

Finally, he looks up at me and hands me the ticket. “Not only will you have a four-hundred-dollar fine, little lady, but for six months, you are not allowed to drive in New Hampshire.”

“What?” I stutter, unsure what to think or do about that.

I hesitatingly and then ask about the most immediate problem his edict is causing. “Can I go to the game at UNH?”

He takes in a very slow breath and says, “You have until midnight to leave New Hampshire.”

I apologize again for speeding, tell him to have a good afternoon, and walk as casually as possible back to the car when all I want to do is run. I get in, start it up, and pull onto the road before he has a chance to see all of us stuffed in here.

Liz, Keith, and the others are peppering me with questions, but I block them out and concentrate on driving until the police car is out of sight.

Finally, I take a deep breath and ease up on my grip on the steering wheel. I explain about the four-hundred-dollar fine, and Liz turns pale. Everyone groans. None of us can afford that kind of extra expense.

“We’ll have the money to pay it, Liz,” Josh says. “I’m working on setting up a movie fundraiser. Carol and I registered the cheerleaders as a student activity—the pep club—so we can do fundraising through the student activity office.”

“That’s fantastic,” Liz reaches over the seat to try and hug him, but ends up squeezing his hand while I try to keep the car on the road.

“When do you think we can arrange it?” I ask. I’m nervous about paying the fine and keeping it from my parents. If they find out, I’m in big trouble, especially if they find out I was covering for Liz. Mom will want me to quit cheerleading.

“I’m trying to get the movie The Cheerleaders, but I’m having trouble finding it.”

“That would be perfect,” I say in a chorus of cheers from the others.

Except Judy. “You know that movie is X-rated?”

“That’s why we’ll make a lot of money,” Josh says.

“Maybe if you can’t get The Cheerleader, you can get another X-rated movie,” Liz says.

“I’ll work on it,” Josh says.

“There’s another fundraising opportunity that could make us a lot of money,” Carol says.

“What is it?” Liz and I both say at the same time and laugh. That relieves some of my tension. I guess we’re both worried about the $400. I should have known she wouldn’t leave me holding the bag, though I know she doesn’t have any more money than I do.

“It would be a lot of work, but there’s an opportunity to sponsor a beer fest at the ROTC hangar with two other groups. It requires a lot of labor, I hear, but I told the guy at the activities office we could handle it. He penciled us in for the spot. It’s in two weeks on a Friday night. We have a home game the next day.”

“What would we need to do?” Judy asks.

“They already got the band and ordered the beer, so we would be selling tickets, pouring beer, and cleaning up afterwards.”

“Sounds like a late night, and we’d have to stay sober,” Judy says.

I can’t help glancing at Liz to see her reaction, but she’s all on board.

“We should put it to a vote since everyone would need to participate,” Liz says, “but I’m in. What’s the potential amount we could make?”