I asked Jeb at the bus stop one morning. “Halloween? That’s for little kids.” Jeb shifted a peppermint toothpick from cheek to cheek. “It’s football season,” he said, like that was the answer. It figured. Down South, everybody was football crazy. The boys collected football cards and talked about professional players like they lived next door. Everybody had a favourite college or high-school team. And of course, there were the Cheerleaders. I perched on an empty bike rack and watched them practise on the playground. They practised every morning, but today was different. Today they wore cheerleading uniforms. Dip, stomp, clap, and twirl. Their red skirts swirled out in perfect circles, matching shorts showing beneath. The girls jumped, their legs crooked sideways, hair flying in the crisp breeze. For a heartbeat, I was one of them, leaping, happy and free in the autumn air. For the first time, cheerleading didn’t seem silly.
