Jacob
the wrestling gym. Tryouts were a new thing for him. It had been years since he’d had to impress someone enough to make a
soccer team. His reputation had preceded him for a while now, and he’d had the same coach for the past three years anyway.
But this was intense. Which was why he’d brought so many friends. And also strangers. For moral support.
was not present, of course, because it had practice. But he’d roped the JV team into coming, along with most of the kids in
his eighth-period class, the people who ran the yearbook, and Malia Li, who ran the student Instagram. A couple of teachers
had glommed on to the caravan as well, probably curious what had inspired so many kids to stay after school.
“Uh . . . what is this?” Rory asked, joining him at the door as his guests streamed past.
She looked ridiculously adorable in her tiny black cheer shorts and a red Woodmont High T-shirt, her hair tied in two braids
with red and gold ribbons. Jacob clocked that the rest of the squad was gathered near the far wall with their coach, a petite
woman with short blond hair whom he’d never met.
“These are people, Rory. They populate our school. Also the world at large,” he joked.
“I know they’re people, dingus,” she said, crossing her arms. “What are they doing here?”
“Did you just say dingus? I don’t think I’ve heard that word since kindergarten.”
Her skin flushed. “Whatever. Explain.”
“It’s an open tryout, right? Who are we supposed to lead in cheers as cheerleaders if there’s not a crowd?” he asked. This was fun. Joking around like this was making him more comfortable. “You know, to cheer.”
“I mean, yeah, it’s an open tryout, but we’ve never had this many people show up before,” Rory said.
“Well, you’re welcome.” The last person came through and Jacob let the door slam. “You can thank me later. Preferably with
sandwiches.”
Rory rolled her eyes. “Go join the others on the bottom bleacher.”
“Oh, hey!” he said as she started to turn away from him. “Congrats on being named to homecoming court, by the way.” She was the only junior to get a spot, and he knew she had to be pleased about it.
“Thanks,” she said, acting like she didn’t understand why he was saying such a thing at a time like this. But he could tell
she was trying not to smile as she sauntered off.
The door opened again, and Willow walked in with two of her friends from the middle school squad. His heart lifted at the
sight of his little sister.
“Don’t break a leg,” she said, patting Jacob once on the shoulder. Then the three of them strode past and took seats right in the
center of the bleachers.
Jacob had no idea how Willow had even gotten here so fast from the middle school, but he was touched she’d gone to the effort.
Suddenly, he was sure he was going to crush this thing.
Rory, Layla, and Carlos were acting as judges, and they’d started out by teaching the four candidates a basic chant, which
they each had to perform solo. Then they’d learned five eight-counts of the dance sequence from the halftime routine, and
Jacob silently thanked God that the rest of the varsity team had been unable to attend. He never would have lived down that
debacle, and Kai probably would have already posted a video of it.
Now they were each going out to the center of the wrestling mats one by one to show the cheer squad their skills.
While the judges sat at a table near the bleachers, the rest of the squad and their coach, Mrs. Maguire—whom he had now met—stood in a huddle in the corner, whispering and taking photos of the proceedings.
The first freshman had not been loud enough at the chant, but his dance moves had made it clear he’d been taking dance probably
since he was a zygote. The second freshman had asked to restart the music no fewer than five times and could not remain on
the beat.
Now Gordon Goldschmidt, whom Jacob used to catch frogs with in his backyard when they were in grade school, was finishing
up his audition. He wasn’t great but he also wasn’t terrible, Jacob had to admit. And he was at least sturdy enough that he
could maybe do a stunt with Rory without killing her.
As Gordon wrapped up the dance portion, arms raised overhead in a V, Jacob’s heart pounded beneath every inch of his skin
and in his eyeballs. What was he even doing here? He was not meant to be a cheerleader. He ran the mile in under six minutes.
Sprinted the four hundred in forty-nine flat. Had been named to all-county soccer two years running. He was supposed to be
on a soccer field right now, not listening to the last strains of some Sabrina Carpenter song fade into the air while people
whooped and clapped.
“Thanks, Gordon! Great job!” Rory announced. Then she cleared her throat and looked down at the papers on the table in front of her, as if she didn’t know there was only one person left. As if she was wishing Jacob might change his mind. Or better yet, disappear.
Maybe he should just throw it. Do what she expected and put on a high-pitched voice and torpedo any chance he had at making
the squad. He’d still be fulfilling the bet. And then he could tell Coach he’d tried out and just hadn’t made it. Let Gordon
be on the squad. His rhythm wasn’t the best and he was a little noodle-armed (he’d learned that term from Willow), but Rory
could whip him into shape.
Then she looked up, locked eyes with him, and said, “You’re next, Reilly.”
From her voice it was clear: This was a challenge. Jacob’s hackles went up. He never backed down from a challenge.
He strode to the center of the mats. The whispering in the corner intensified. He was pretty sure someone giggled. From the
corner of the room, Stuart DaCosta eyed him up and down. His cast-covered leg was up on a chair, and his crutches leaned against
the wall. Somehow, seeing him there added gravity to the situation. Stuart’s season was over, and someone here was going to
take his place. Suddenly, even though he barely knew Stuart, Jacob realized he didn’t want to let him down.
“You can start whenever you’re ready,” Rory said, lacing her fingers together in front of her on the table. Her brown eyes sparked as she looked him over, her gaze lingering doubtfully on his beat-up Nikes. She looked especially beautiful when she was underestimating him.
There was a sharp whistle from the crowd, one he recognized as Willow’s. He looked over at her, and she tilted her chin down,
leveling him with a Don’t screw this up glare.
That was it. If there’d been any doubt in his mind about what he should do, this reminder of Willow’s presence had sealed
it. There was no way he was going to throw this audition in front of his little sister—the very one who had spent two hours
coaching him the day before. He may have been a serial jokester, but he still knew when it was time to set an example.
Jacob took a deep breath and began the chant. He kept his eyes on Willow because he knew that if he looked at literally anyone
else, he’d screw up.
“J! A! C! K! S!” He clapped along with each shouted letter. “Let’s go, Jacks!”
Arm thrust overhead in a fist, he made sure his elbow was straight.
He repeated the line again, this time walking along the front of the mat, trying to get the crowd he had gathered for this
very purpose to cheer with him. Willow had told him this was essential—the whole point of the cheerleader was to lead cheers. She’d said that if he could infect the crowd with his Lumberjack spirit, he’d be golden. None of the other hopefuls had moved
from the center of the gym during their chants, and no one had responded to them from the crowd.
“J! A! C! K! S! Let’s go, Jacks!”
This time, Willow and her friends joined in. Rory raised her eyebrows. Carlos smirked. They knew what he was trying to do. But they weren’t giving in. Well, good for them. Little did they know, Jacob Reilly was not one to give up easily. Also, he had no shame. He could do this all day long.
“J! A! C! K! S! Let’s go, Jacks!”
Now a few more people joined in—mostly the JV soccer kids, who probably just wanted his approval. Still, it was something.
“Come on! J! A! C! K! S! Let’s go, Jacks!”
On the fifth try, Malia chanted with him. On the sixth, the yearbook kids joined in. And on the seventh, he turned around
to face the cheer squad members in the corner, and they all started chanting as well. He ended his chant portion with a herkie
jump, which Willow had taught him, and Rory finally broke. She cracked up laughing and applauded. Jacob wouldn’t have been
able to wipe the grin off his face if he’d tried, but he didn’t try. Because cheerleaders also smiled.
It felt pretty good, getting a room full of people to shout with him.
“Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Rory said when Jacob was done. “Let’s see if he can dance.”
The music started. Jacob basically blacked out as he executed the moves.
He could hear himself counting in his head—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight and one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—and could only hope his body was doing the right things on the right counts—kick, hop, high V, low V, kick, spin, lunge, together. . . .
Everyone applauded when he finished, but he couldn’t have told anyone whether he’d done what he was supposed to do. He was
just glad it was over. And his arms were in a high V, just like Gordon’s had been at the end of the routine, so that seemed
like a positive sign.
“Good job, man,” Carlos said as Rory and Layla leaned together to whisper. “You can sit.”
“Actually, I have one more skill I’d like to show you,” Jacob said. “I think it’s pertinent to the job.”
Rory looked up at that. “Oh, here we go. I knew you wouldn’t be able to get through this without some kind of prank.”
Jacob’s face heated, irked. “It’s not a prank. Rory, if you would join me on the mat, please?” he said confidently.
She looked at him warily, then glanced at Layla. “Um . . . that’s a no.”
“I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear. I just want to show you a stunt I learned.”
Rory snorted a laugh. “A stunt? What stunt?”
“What’re you, scared?” Jacob chided.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not scared. But the last thing this squad needs is me ending up in a cast like Stuart.”
“He’s really good, I swear!” Willow called from the stands, eliciting a few laughs. “Let him try,” she added, undeterred.
Rory turned and eyed Willow. Jacob knew that Rory knew who his sister was. As captain of the eighth-grade squad, they’d spent a lot of time together at town events and competitions. Willow was well-respected as a promising young cheerleader, just like Rory had been at her age.
Finally, Rory rolled her eyes and stood, pressing her palms into her cotton shorts. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Jacob waited until she was in front of him. “Chair sit?” he said.
She titled her head dubiously. He tilted his in the opposite direction. Then she turned around and looked at Willow, who nodded
her encouragement. “He can do it, I swear.”
“Fine,” Rory said. “But if you drop me, you’re going to have them to answer to.”
She gestured toward the rest of the squad, then turned around and got in position in front of him.
“Carlos, can you spot it?” Jacob asked.
“Sure.” Carlos walked over and stood next to his right side, ready to catch Rory if she went down.
Jacob, meanwhile, tried really hard not to notice how good the back of Rory looked in those short shorts. This was the girlfriend
of one of his best friends. So what if he’d liked her first? So what if he’d been thinking about asking her to homecoming
last year before Tucker did? Tucker was the one who’d manned up and done it. Tucker was the one who’d won the girl. Jacob
needed to concentrate on winning this spot.
He placed his hands on her little waist. His face instantly warmed at the contact.
Concentrate, idiot, he told himself. If you let yourself get distracted, you will drop her.
“Okay, ready?” he said, making his voice deep and authoritative.
She nodded. He counted it off.
“One, two!” She bent at the knee and jumped straight up with a boost from him. He flipped his right hand around so his palm
was up, and before he could even blink, they’d done it. Rory was sitting on his hand, one leg bent, one extended, arms thrust
above her head in a V.
“Holy crap. You did it, man!” Carlos exclaimed.
Jacob wanted to cheer, but he was too busy looking up and making sure he didn’t drop one of the most popular girls in school
on her face.
“Ready to dismount?”
“Ready!” Rory replied.
“One, two!”
She piked down and Jacob caught her in both arms. Her face was inches from his, so close he could count the tiny freckles
around her nose.
He grinned down at her. “How you like me now?”
She stared back at him with shocked wide eyes, and something else on her face that Jacob couldn’t quite name.