“But you promised.” “I did not.” “You said you’d support me when I tried out for cheer.” “I meant from the bleachers.” “I don’t need you in the bleachers. I need someone to cheer with me. Fawn, will you tell her?” Cheerleading? Was she serious? Ewwww, with three extra w’s and a cherry on top. Of all the things in the world I hated, cheerleading was right up there between wolf spiders and flu shots. My first week of school had been horrendous enough without adding cheer to the mix. I’d finally gotten my class schedule sorted out, only to discover I had one class with Fawn (PE), one with Adair (leadership), and three with Her Fabulousness. Three! Worse, one of those classes was PE. Worse than worse, I had to get dressed (and undressed!) next to Dijon. She had perfect skin and perfect toes. I had a million arm freckles and crooked toes. The one bright spot in my schedule of despair was learning that Fawn, Adair, and I had the same lunch. “I can’t cheer,” I told Adair.
