Chapter Four

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"One last time and then we're out of here," I shouted to the rest of the cheerleaders, before turning and taking my place front and center. Someone cued the music and it quickly filled the practice room for the hundredth time. We'd been at the routine for over an hour and were so close to perfecting it that I almost didn't want to let everyone leave. I also knew that coach, who was letting me run practice today, was expecting us to rock our routine at the game that week. Even so, I'd learned long ago not to burn the team out. Better to leave on a high note and pick things up next practice.

As Bon Jovi belted out "Living on a Prayer," we began to perform the choreographed dance moves in unison. With a pop of my hip, I moved toward the back of the mat and prepared to do my signature tumbling run: a front tuck, round-off back handspring full-twisting layout. As I landed, a series of stunts went off behind me, and then I joined the rest of my team in time for the big finish. We each struck a pose as the music faded, and soon the only noise I could hear was our labored breathing.

"Nice job, guys! That would've gotten us to Nationals in March, easy," I said, walking over to where I'd left my water bottle. "But first, the game on Friday. Bring that energy then and we'll kill it out there. Let's show them why we're number one!"

Nobody dared groan even though I knew they all secretly wanted to. Instead, most of the squad collected their stuff and headed toward the locker rooms. I stayed behind to put away the equipment, satisfied with how well practice had gone. Following my lead, Trish, Sofia, and Bethany stuck around too, rolling up the mats and placing the crash pads and poms in our storage closet.

"You run a tough practice, Captain," Trish said, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tank top.

"Oh, come on. That was nothing. Come Nationals, we're going to be doing it full-out, three times in a row," I said. "You'll be lucky if you don't throw up when we're done."

Trish made a face in distaste and smoothed her blond hair off her forehead. "Seriously gross, Had."

"It wasn't that bad," Bethany cut in. One look at the gossip queen, though, and I could see she'd broken a sweat, too. Her skin was dewy and her cheeks were pink with heat. I knew she was hurting just as badly as the rest of us, but she'd do anything to show up Trish. "In fact, I could totally go for a cheeseburger right now."

She looked over at Trish, who'd turned a light shade of green at this, and smiled devilishly. "Doesn't that sound good? A big, fat, juicy cheeseburger with bacon and onions rings and a ton of barbecue sauce slathered all over it. And french fries. I think I definitely burned enough calories for all that. Anyone else in? We could go to Sloppy Joe's and see what's going on there?"

Trish convulsed slightly and her hand darted to her mouth.

"Think you're on your own this time, B," I said, trying save Trish by changing the subject. "I gotta go and help my mom down at the shop. Thursdays are her busiest days. That's when all the new ingredients come in for the perfumes. . . ."

My voice trailed off as I realized I would have rather gone to eat with the girls. Even though I'd told my dad I'd go easy on Mom, I hadn't gotten over our argument from the other night. I knew that if I was stuck in the store alone with her for hours, she'd find some way of revisiting our argument. And then it would be a lot harder to keep my promise to my dad.

I looked at the girls, hoping they'd offer to help me out and give me a mom buffer. But they avoided my eyes as we headed across the room.

"Sorry, Had. My stomach's calling," said Bethany, patting her flat stomach.

"And I have a date with my DVR," Trish answered, ignoring Bethany's mention of food and not even bothering to get creative with her excuse as to why she couldn't come.

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