Ryan runs through the eight count, singing along to the song in her head. Never trust a big butt and a smile, that girl is poison. She keeps a watchful eye on Coach Brunson’s facial expression and sees the older woman’s face grimace as the team lands into the final pose on the wrong count.

The music stops and their side of the gymnasium is silent, the only other sound coming from the Varsity cheer team on the other side of the court. Coach Brunson’s eyes roam across her team before she scratches her eyebrow in frustration.

Coach Brunson is a pretty woman with mocha brown skin, pearly white teeth and her curls tied up in a bun. She’s not much older than the cheerleaders in front of her, only graduated about five years before, but her posture illuminates as a woman wise beyond her years.

It is because of this that her judgment means an awful lot to Ryan. And, based on the pinched expression on the older woman’s face, Coach Brunson’s judgment is saying the team needs some work. Coach Brunson instructs the girls to take a five minute break as she wanders off in deep thought.

Ryan finds her way to her bag, and sits next to it, taking a swig from her water bottle. The girls are divided into their small friend groups, Ryan only half listening to their conversations as her eyes find their way to the Varsity team as they practice their dance routine.

The routine is okay, but it could be better. The girls move stiffly as they perform their carefully calculated moves. Most of them seem to be in their heads, not truly feeling the rhythm of the song they’re dancing to.

One and two and three and four. Five, six, seven, eight. It’s written all over their faces.

“I just don’t get it,” Ellie lets out an exasperated sigh. Ryan turns her attention to her friend. “We just had this routine down last week.”

“We still had Astrid then,” Haley replies. The mention of the girls’ former teammate prompts the team to simultaneously move their heads towards the Varsity mats. Astrid stands in her backspot position, waiting for the count to begin her stunt. Wisps of hair spill out of her ponytail, sweat drips down her face, and her breathing is erratic, but throughout it all, her mouth is spread as wide as could be, rivaling the sun in its brightness.

“It’s just taking some getting used to,” Haley finishes her thought. By this time, Coach Brunson makes her way back to her team, clearly having gathered herself. She seems lighter, a weight lifted off of her shoulder as she begins repositioning formations and reworking the routine.

With these changes, the girls redo the routine, this time ending on the correct count. Coach Brunson looks proud, but her mood deflates when Coach Simmons approaches their side of the gym.

An older woman in her 60s, Coach Simmons is head coach of the Varsity and oversees the other two teams as well. Her bottle-blonde hair is short–growing back from a buzzcut she had in order to give it to the man–and she is in a signature tracksuit; today’s is a hot pink Nike one. She has a bounce in her step today, something usually absent when she has to interact with the Junior Varsity and Freshman teams.

“How can I help you, Coach Simmons?” Coach Brunson plasters on a fake smile as she faces the head coach.

“I would like to borrow some of your girls,” Coach Simmons requests. Her tone tells it is a demand.

The girls glance at one another. Ryan looks directly to Ellie, who shrugs before turning forward to face the coaching duo ahead of them.

“Um… okay,” Coach Brunson answers. “Right now? We’re in the middle of practicing for tomorrow’s football game.”

In lieu of answering, Coach Simmons instead turns her attention to the girls in front of her. “I need Ellie and Bethany.”

The two girls gasp in disbelief. Ellie turns her attention to Ryan. “Oh my God,” she mouths.

Ryan stifles a giggle and responds, “Go.” She shoos her friend away, her smile dropping a tad when Ellie makes her way over to the Varsity side of the gym.

The rest of practice goes by pretty quickly, with Coach Brunson having decided to work on cheers due to the lack of bodies to do anything else. Because Ellie is her ride, Ryan stays behind while everyone else goes home, watching Varsity practice their competition routine.

She watches in amazement as the team completes their tumbling passages and moves into their stunt positions. Her heart swells with pride as Ellie bases for one of the Varsity team’s best flyers, Lola. But something in another stunt group catches her eye.

At no more than 5 feet and 3 inches tall, Bethany is backspotting.

Ryan watches as Bethany waddles on the tips of her toes as her bases hoist Natalie into a height Bethany can barely reach. Ryan shakes her head and turns her attention to her cell phone for the remainder of the practice, a bitter bile raising up her throat. There is one day that plays on a loop in Ryan’s mind as she does so.

—

Ryan exited the locker room and entered the auxiliary gym. When doing so, she was shocked to see the Varsity, Junior Varsity, and Freshman Teams gathered altogether on the stunt mats.

“Uh…” Ryan walked up to Ellie and Elly, setting her bag on the bleachers. “What’s going on?”

“We’re all practicing stunts together,” Ellie explained.

“Why?”

Ellie and Elly shrugged. “Build camaraderie or something?” Elly suggested.

Ryan figured this was plausible. The Varsity team had a habit of ignoring the JV and Freshman teams unless contact was necessary.

“Okay, ladies,” Coach Simmons clapped. “Let’s stretch and then we’ll mix all of you up for stunt groups.”

After stretches, Ryan ended up in a stunt group with Varsity girls Lola, Chloe, and Becca. The three girls spoke excitedly with one another while Ryan mostly stood to the side looking longingly towards Ellie’s stunt group with Vera, Kim, and Uma. She wished she was grouped with girls she actually talked to.

“Alright,” Coach Simmons said. “Let’s warm up with a prep.”

Ryan’s group got into position with Lola in the center, Ryan in the back of her, and Chloe and Becca on either side of Lola with both of them facing her. Lola put one hand on each of Chloe and Becca’s shoulders and placed her right foot into Becca’s cupped hands. Ryan grabbed Lola’s hips.

“Prep,” Ryan called. “One, two!”

The stunt went up without a hitch. Ryan, Chloe, and Becca kept Lola in her position for a few seconds. “Cradle! One, two!” Ryan called again. She, Chloe, and Becca popped Lola into the air and caught her; Ryan got Lola under her shoulders while Chloe and Becca got Lola’s legs. The three set Lola onto her feet.

“That was good!” Lola smiled. “Let’s do an extension.”

The four girls reset their position. “Extension,” Ryan said. “One, two!”

Lola was pushed high; Ryan, Chloe, and Becca’s arms were all extended to their full length.

“Wanna cradle out?” Ryan asked her group mates.

“Yeah!” Lola affirmed. Ryan called it.

Ryan, Becca, and Chloe set Lola’s feet onto the ground afterwards, and the flyer turned to Ryan. “You’re really good,” she complimented.

“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. “I could barely feel her.”

“I didn’t really feel her at all!” Becca laughed. “I swear her foot lifted out of my hands for a second when we were putting her up.”

“They did!” Lola giggled. “Ally!”

Lola’s older sister, Ally, made her way to her sister. Ally was on the team until she graduated two years ago, but came to help coach sometimes whenever she was in town from school. “You need to fly with Ryan,” Lola gushed. “She’s so good.”

Ally looked at Ryan, “Okay.” She shouted for Coach Simmons, Coach Brunson, and Heather–another previous cheerleader that sometimes volunteers.

Ryan felt slightly overwhelmed but pushed it down. Ally took Lola’s place and nodded for Ryan to call the stunt, an extension. She does and the stunt was completed without a problem.

Ally nodded in approval, “Have you ever done a basket?”

Ryan was honest and shook her head. Ally was understanding and broke it down, letting Heather demonstrate what a backspot does during basket tosses, which was pretty much the same thing Ryan already does.

Heather backed away from the stunt group and gave Ryan an encouraging smile. Ryan replaced her and let out a shaky breath. She looked up and met Ellie’s eyes. Her friend gave her two thumbs up and a big smile. Ryan nodded and cupped Ally’s hips.

Chloe and Becca got into position, their forearms interlaced with the girls holding each other’s opposing wrists. Ally hopped and Ryan helped her place her feet into Chloe and Becca’s makeshift basket.

“Basket,” Ryan called. “One, two!”

The stunt was completed and when Ally was placed on the ground she turned to Ryan with an excited glint in her eye. “Oh, my god! You’re so strong.”

“Right?!” Chloe said. “You felt weightless.”

Ally faced Coach Simmons, “You’ve got a real good backspot here, Coach Simmons.”

Ryan grinned, “Thanks.”

Coach Simmons simply looked at Ryan contemplatively and hummed before walking away to look at another stunt group, but Ryan saw the impressed glint in the older woman’s eyes.

—

Eventually, practice ends and Ryan is in the passenger seat of Ellie’s truck, the heat on blast as they sit in the parking lot waiting for the vehicle to warm.

“So are you Varsity now?” Ryan questions.

Ellie shakes her head, “No, thank God.” She laughs. “I need to have you with me for my own sanity. I’m just on the competition team.”

Ryan giggles, “Same here. Can’t be captain without you.” Ellie playfully touches her heart in response.

There’s a brief lull in conversation. “So, uh, why was Beth backspotting?” Ryan attempts to be casual but Ellie’s face tells her she was anything but.

“That’s one of the positions they needed to fill,” Ellie shakes her head. “I don’t know why they didn’t choose you.”

Ryan takes a moment and fully examines her friend from head to toe. With pony-tailed, long, blonde hair, long legs, and green eyes, Ellie is a vision. Bethany has blonde hair and blue eyes, her braces and short height giving her an endearing look. Astrid’s brown hair is soft and flows down her back, her energy as contagious as her smile.

Just then, Varsity and competition captain–the sole Black girl on her team–Brooklyn, walks out from the school building towards her car. Her dark brown skin is stark against the snowy background outside, her sewn-in hair partially covered with a cap, snowflakes landing and melting into the exposed areas of it.

Ryan reaches her hand to her own braided head and lets down her bun before pushing the hair behind her ear. “Yeah…” she says. “I don’t know either.”

But she’s pretty sure she does.