Runner Girl

Chapter Eight

A tall, curvy blond girl who totally fits the "Barbie" mold stands up and smiles at me. "We don't get a lot of new girls," she says, gesturing to a spot on the floor between a slender brunette and a girl with the most intricate set of braids I've ever seen. They scoot apart to make room for me, and I try to smile at everybody as I sit down.

"Um, I'm Lana," I say, trying to look at the blond girl and the two girls on either side of me all at once and failing miserably.

Braids leans over. "Janel," she says. "You're in my trig class."

I nod, vaguely remembering her from math. Before I have a chance to say anything else, Coach Cypri comes into view, and all the girls scramble to their feet. I follow suit, and then I stand there awkwardly, in the circle of cheerleaders but not sure yet if I belong here.

She smiles at us all and puts her hands on her hips like a superhero. "All right, ladies. I know what most of you could do at the end of last year, but it's been a long summer, so it's time to show me what you've got. You six," she says, pointing to me, Janel, and four other girls, "team alpha. You five," she says, gesturing to the rest of the team, "beta. I'll give you the next thirty minutes to come up with a short routine that showcases the strengths of each of your teammates, and then we'll practice. You get thirty minutes for choreography, ten minutes to fine tune and ask the other team for help, and then we'll perform at 3:45." She pauses, looking at us for a moment. "You might not all earn your varsity letter this season, but I can promise you that if you're dedicated to the team, the team won't let you down. Any questions?"

Nobody says anything, and a few of the girls even look eager. My stomach is flipping around uncontrollably, and I'm seriously considering trying to sneak away without anyone seeing when Janel links her arm in mine and tugs me to the other half of the gym.

"Guys, this is Lana. She's cool," she says, tipping her head at the rest of team alpha. "That's Rosie, Shane, Amelie, and Hannah."

I nod, trying to sort the girls by name and finally giving up. I'll figure out who everyone is if I can survive tryouts; right now, I just want to get this over with. "What do you guys want to do?"

The short red head –Rosie?—whips out a notebook. "I was thinking something simple; start with a standing cheer, one lift and a couple of fliers, and maybe end with a front handspring."

My brain whirls, and I swallow nervously. Everyone looks at me expectantly, and I realize that this is the moment. If I really want to do this thing, I have to be all in. "Can you teach me?"

Janel's eyebrows climb to her hairline, and for a moment, I'm afraid I said the wrong thing. Then Rosie flips to a clean sheet in her notebook and motions me to come over. She starts sketching furiously, talking about the routine as she maps it out, and I try to follow along.

I must look about as lost as I feel, though, because one of the other girls, maybe Hannah, interrupts. "Have you done any sports before?"

"I'm a runner," I say, and just that statement is enough to restore some of my confidence. "But I'm a fast learner."

The girls look at each other, and I can almost hear the silent conversation they have with their eyes and the tilts of their heads. Finally, Rosie stands up. "Stand here," she says, pointing to a spot on the gym floor.

Obediently, I plant my feet on the spot, feeling myself naturally settling into my springy pre-race stance, and Rosie shakes her head.

"You need a wider base," she says, standing in front of me like a mini ginger version of Coach Cypri, her feet slightly wider than her hips, her shoulders and head back, her chin up. I mirror her, even though my body feels awkward in such an open, dominant posture, and Rosie smiles.