Chapter Twelve
Susie
The sun warms my face and it’s a struggle to maintain my smile. The heat of the day causes a rivulet of perspiration to run down my temple, but in truth, my nerves would be making me sweat even if it was below freezing where we stand on the field.
“The first game is always so exciting; it’s nerve-racking,” Liz says.
“You look cool as always.”
Her face glows with confidence. She’s in her element as she inspects our line like a merry version of a drill sergeant, then takes her place between me and Carol.
Wearing our new custom-fit uniforms, we’re lined up on the field ten yards down from the players’ bench, from short to tall, and I’m second tallest. The guys stand behind us with their megaphones. We face the crowd in the student section and the marching band.
The band leader raises his baton, and Liz calls out, “Position for the fight song.”
Jitters fill my stomach like they’re live animals poking at my nerve endings.
We all turn right, aim our right arms up, hands pointing to the sky. Left hands point down toward our extended left feet. The band starts playing, and we start dancing. With one big release of adrenaline in my chest, heart pounding louder than the kettle drum, I let the dance moves take over with a rush of excitement.
Professional photographers and random people with cameras come and go, snapping pictures. My smile feels etched permanently on my face. The crowd cheers so loud it competes with the marching band for dominance. My whole body tingles and vibrates like I’ve turned into a live wire.
I’ve never felt anything like this. When the dance ends and we shake our pom-poms and jump in the air, responding to the crowd, they give us extra shouts and yells and applause.
When the game starts, Liz gets our attention and calls out our first stunt. I’m ready, exhilaration mingling with a dash of fear.
“Let’s show them something they’ve never seen before,” Liz says.
That’s the cue for Carol, Keith, and Nick to set up the mini tramp. Some of us arrange ourselves in a small pyramid. I’m on the second layer, kneeling on the backs of Josh and Keith.
Someone—probably Liz—cues a drum roll from the band, and Nick backs up, runs to the mini tramp, and bounces hard into a front flip as he jumps over us.
We build it up a layer at a time to four tiers while the entire drum corps joins in, banging out a heart-pounding beat.
Sherry, the smallest of us, climbs to the top of the pyramid with Liz’s help as spotter.
Nick waves to the crowd, a true showman, as he backs up further than before, then runs up, hits the mini tramp, and as it appears he’s about to jump over our impossibly tall pyramid, Liz gives the signal, and we collapse to the ground.
Nick ends up doing a somersault in the air over the pile of us on the ground, and he lands on the other side of our heap. I’m in the middle of the pile, laughing as the crowd applauds and yells wildly. Even though it looks like it should be painful, it’s not.
“I think they’re impressed,”
Josh says as he helps me up.
“That was so much fun!”
I pick up my pom-poms and wave them over my head, following the other girls.
We return to our lineup with the attention of the crowd on us now, and a sense of lightheartedness takes up residence in my chest, echoed by the wide, genuine grin I feel on my face.
Win or lose this game, I don’t think I could stop smiling if I tried. We did a great job. A sense of shared pride and camaraderie with these girls and guys warms me, unlike anything I’ve had before, a real sense of belonging.