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I should've studied the stats.
But by that point, it was too late to withdraw, and I would've had my ass handed to me on a Rippton-gilted platter by my father anyway. There was no way he wouldn't let his offspring–read: sole heir–attend the ridiculously exclusive school.
"They bring out busloads to watch us lose. They cheer, and they support. There's a bit of an Allstars culture going on, but the cheer team’s mostly responsible for that.”
I ran my eyes over the bopping team, their limbs moving together in a way that made me envious of their synchronicity. A quick head count came up with thirteen girls and three guys, tossing some of the smaller girls into the air with the skills of Olympic gymnasts.
"Holy shit. That's some decent airtime." I blinked as one girl landed in a handstand on the dude below her’s outstretched palms.
"No kidding. They haven't dropped anyone yet."
I laughed, not entirely sure if he was kidding or not. "So, what are we doing?"
A sly smirk crossed Beau’s face. "You'll see." He tossed his helmet on the ground, and I followed suit as he pointed to the end of the row. "Join in. Take bitch spot. I'll be right behind you."
A grin formed on my face as I ruffled my ginger effervescent mass, knowing it'd be sticking out at crazy angles thanks to bucket hair. “Bitch spot?”
"Just promise me you won't drop the soap, Homie."
I laughed as we joined the cheerleader’s ranks, and tried my best to keep up with the high kicks that left me on wobbly legs and nearly landed me on my ass at least once. A girl in a pink top waved a giant silver and blue pom pom over her head, shouting silently into the void, her cheeks flushed as she cheered right along with us. I gave her a wave and on a whim, blew a kiss into the crowd.
Beau pantomimed spanking my ass when I stuck it out–only one love tap actually connected, thankfully. Wheezing with laughter as one of the cheer squad flicked the bird our way with fabulously pasted-on smiles, we took off back to the field arriving just in time to face off.
"You're the big captain’s new bum boy, are you?" Sammy, one of the defenders in Dylan’s circle – I knew I was gonna call him Sammy the Dick for the rest of my college career – groused as I jogged past. Dylan the defender threw me a big double thumbs up and a comic face, his featured scrunched threw me before he lowered his shield and bent his knees.
Sammy called something derogatory at me that should have been aimed at the other team, but I was already in position, bouncing on my toes. The cheer squad lit me up nicely, Beau offering a tight nod as he checked our positions on the field.
I rolled my shoulders, settling into myself, letting the crowd fall away, focusing on the field before me and the tension between my teammates as play began. My heart beat ramped, a roaring in my ears the moment my muscles tensed.
Five minutes later I hadn't seen the ball head in our direction past the midpoint apart from Beau’s first throw. Every time one of Rippton’s players got an opening, Cliffside’s opposing midfielders took the opportunity and ran straight down the other end to score.
The captain switched in and out, as Jason observed, sliding from midfielder to attack, which I knew was far from normal, directing from the center of the field.
"Mids suck." I threw the comment over my shoulder at my captain. "We gotta do something about that man. Otherwise we’ll never get attention down this end."
I jerked my chin to where Coach occupied the bleachers in the away team’s reserved space. I didn't expect anything from him, and rightly so. He chatted quietly to the medic beside him, who glanced at me and the rest of the team several times in an attempt to draw the man’s attention to where it was supposed to be, but to no avail.
Beau crouched, stretching his hammies. “Okay, you’re gung ho, right? So listen up. We get Dylan involved. We tried this play last year, but we uh, didn’t have the support.” He lowered his voice so our other attacker wouldn’t overhear. “The play is simple.” He outlined the sequence in a quiet voice as it came to life before my eyes.
I nodded, getting myself into position as Cliffside scored. Again.
Beau finished his speech and looked at me. "If I set this up, and we pull it off to this point and you mess it up, we are not friends. And you're in bitch spot on the cheer team for the rest of the season."
I pointed at him. “Let's get it done."
Beau nodded his approval. "Let's do it.”
To my complete surprise, within the first minute of the second quarter, the ball came flying down to Beau. He caught the impossible shot, Dylan hoisted neatly in his net, and passed to me. I ran in to scoop up the pass and threw it straight at the goalie who didn't seem to have a clue what to do with it. As Beau predicted, there were holes big enough to throw a jumbo jet through Cliffside’s defence.
Their goalie swung his net at the ball and missed by a mile, while my hard throw sailed into the back of the net.
I turned to Beau with a grin that had more cheese than a takeout burger to utter silence.
The stands didn't say a word, while I stood in the middle of the field, my net hanging over my shoulder. My breath caught in my throat, my heart thundering from the failing exhilaration of scoring my first goal for Rippton.
But no one moved.
Maybe they’ve forgotten how to celebrate.
