Jacob
currently experiencing. There he was, wearing his red-and-gold cheerleading uniform—full pants and a short-sleeved sweater—and
toting his megaphone, while all his friends—his team—took the field for one of the most important games of the year. Even
the parents in the bleachers looked confused. He could see some of them whispering to one another and pointing at him. Cody
As if all of that wasn’t bad enough, he had a test in math next week that he needed to ace, and Mrs. Dutton had given him a practice exam today at lunch.
He’d scored a seventy. Not the worst he’d ever done, but it wouldn’t help get his grade up.
He had to study. As much as possible. Honestly, studying math would have been preferable to what he was doing right now.
“Go! Hey, here we go! Woodmont! Go!” the squad cheered.
On the field there was a long whistle followed by angry shouting. Jacob turned to look at the same moment he was supposed
to toss Rory into the air. Crap. Had Tucker just gotten a yellow card? What had he done? He had to know he couldn’t be taking
stupid penalties right now.
“Jacob! What the hell? Pay attention,” Rory said through gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry!” he shot back. “But aren’t we supposed to be paying attention to the game?”
“Of course we are. But my partner can’t not be there when I expect him to be,” she said, holding her pom-poms on her hips.
“That’s how injuries happen.”
Carlos shot him a side-eye that he did not appreciate, and a few other squad members grumbled in his direction. On the sidelines,
a bunch of the sophomores who never saw varsity playing time openly laughed at him. Jacob’s face was on fire. As if this entire
situation wasn’t embarrassing enough, now she was dressing him down in front of everyone?
“It’s a little difficult to take you seriously with your sassy little pom-pom pose,” Jacob joked loudly, earning laughs from
the soccer players on the bench nearby. He’d much rather have them laughing with him than at him.
Rory rolled her eyes. “Real mature.”
Another whistle sounded on the field, and play started again.
Rav Bastian tossed the ball in and Kai received, then turned upfield.
He was incredibly fast, and he outran two defenders before having to juke around the last man.
He was totally open to the net, and everyone in the stands was on their feet.
“Let’s go!” Rory called out the name of a cheer. “Ready? Okay!”
Jacob couldn’t see over his teammates’ heads on the sidelines. He took off running down the field to get a better look at
Kai’s approach. He needed to go top-left corner on the Pine Hill goalie. That was his weak spot. Jacob wanted to shout it
at him, but he couldn’t risk the goalie hearing.
“L-E-T-S-G-O! Let’s go!” the squad chanted. He was dimly aware he was supposed to be over there, but his heart was pounding. This was Woodmont’s
chance to get on the board. To take the lead early.
Top-left corner . . . top-left corner . . .
“L-E-T-S-G-O! Let’s go!”
The goalie approached Kai. Practically the whole net was open.
Top left top left top left!
The goalie got closer and Kai panicked. He whiffed a weak kick on the ground, and the goalie pounced on it.
“Sonofa! No!” Jacob cried, his fingers splayed at his sides. “Top-left corner, you idiot!”
The whole crowd groaned. Coach Fitz spiked his clipboard into the dewy grass. But play continued as the goalie tossed the ball to one of his men.
“L-E-T-S-G-O! Let’s go!”
Jacob ran back to the squad and was there just in time to throw Rory up into a chair sit. Everyone waved their poms and cheered.
And at that moment the Pine Hill Panthers scored.
“Shit!” Jacob shouted as he returned Rory gently to the ground.
“Jacob!” Gwen admonished. “Cheerleaders do not curse!”
“Sorry. Sorry,” he said. “I just can’t freaking believe this.”
“Jacob! Jacob! He’s our man! If he can’t cartwheel, no one can!”
Jacob turned to glare at the soccer sidelines, where Kai was drinking water after being subbed out. He and Nick Corcoran saw
Jacob and started waving their hips and flinging their arms around as they cheered at him.
“Dude! You just missed an easy goal!” Jacob shouted at them.
Kai gave him the finger, and the two of them turned back to watching the game.
Jacob had never felt more miserable in his life.
All he wanted to do was run. Run the hell off the field and never look back.
He hated being in this position. Hated Coach Fitz for putting him here.
Hated himself for being idiotic enough to make that insane bet.
He hated his stupid math brain and Mrs. Dutton and whoever it was who had made up the rule about grades and varsity participation.
He even hated Rory a little bit in that moment, though why he couldn’t have said.
Maybe he just hated everything and everyone.
He grabbed his megaphone, thinking he might just storm off the track. But then . . . he had a better idea. A glint in his
eye and a fire in his belly, he turned toward the thirty or forty fans and parents in the crowd.
“Hey, Woodmont fans, yell, Hey!”
“Hey!” a couple dozen people shouted.
“Hey, Woodmont fans, yell, Hey!” he repeated pumping his free arm up in the air.
“Hey!” This time more voices joined in.
“What’re you doing?” Rory whispered from behind him. When he didn’t answer, she looked at the others. “What is he doing?”
But Jacob would not be distracted. He was a man on a mission. There was no way out but through.
“Hey, Woodmont fans! On the count of three, yell, You! Need! Jacob! One, two, three, go!”
“You! Need! Jacob!” the crowd chanted.
“Oh no, he didn’t,” Layla said loudly.
In the front row of the bleachers, Cody hung his head so low it was practically between his knees.
“One, two, three, go!” Jacob yelled.
“You! Need! Jacob!” The crowd got louder.
“One more time! One, two, three, go!”
“You! Need! Jacob!”
There was a whistle on the field, and play came to a stop for halftime. Everything went silent. The words of his chant seemed
to hang in the air. Coach Fitz was clearly trying to ignore him and everybody in the crowd. He was as stiff as a board on
the sidelines, working hard not to turn and look at him.
“You hear that, Coach Fitz? The people have spoken!” Jacob shouted. “You clearly need me out there!”
Behind him, someone cleared their throat. Jacob turned, his chest heaving, his lungs burning with cold.
Rory, Layla, Gwen, Carlos, Maya, Dahlia, and the rest of the squad stood, arms crossed, staring him down. All the adrenaline
rushed out of him.
Then the soccer team jogged past on the way to the locker room, every last one of them staring him down.
“Proud of yourself?” Rory asked.
“Yeah, kinda,” Jacob replied, which wasn’t untrue but was definitely the wrong thing to say.
“You can go home now,” Rory said. “We don’t need that kind of energy on this squad.”