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“Brooke, it’s a halftime routine. It’s not rocket science.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“And now, for your pleasure, the nationally recognized heart of Bayport—the Bayport High Varsity Spirit Squad!”
The announcer’s voice rumbled out of the loudspeakers, and the crowd burst into applause, hoots, and hollers (in that order).
We took our positions on the field. I ignored the way my cheerleading skirt rubbed uncomfortably against my legs. I thought about my last mission and my next one and the importance of never letting anyone see more than you wanted them to see.
I smiled.
“Ready? Okay!”
“B to the A to the Y to the Port…”
It was official: there was no turning back.
If you’d told me at the beginning of my sophomore year that I was going to become a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you’d told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked. Then again, if you’d told me right after our halftime performance that our second mission would be more lethal, more scandalous, and more filled with kisses than the first, I wouldn’t have believed you.
It just goes to show how wrong I can be, because as I cheered, my smile forcing the world to view me as nothing more than a girl in a skirt, the beginnings of my second mission, more dangerous than I could have imagined, were already headed my way.
“Go, fight, win! We’ll beat you again. BAYPORT!”
