Chapter 5: Cheerleading or Bust

At 6:30 p.m., I went to the basketball court.

The court lights flickered on, illuminating a patchwork of cracked pavement and faded paint. The sound of bouncing balls and squeaking sneakers filled the air.

The school team was practicing, and I could hear the fierce sounds of competition from a distance.

Coaches barked orders, and the players’ trash talk echoed across the gym.

I wanted to ask about the cheerleading squad, but as soon as I got close, a curly-haired guy grabbed my arm.

He wore a Granton sweatshirt two sizes too big and a goofy grin. His energy was infectious, if a little desperate.

“Hey, interested in joining the cheerleading squad?”

He flashed a clipboard in my face, almost pleading.

“During training, you get free meals, a $30 stipend, and two community service credits. The perks are awesome!”

My eyebrows shot up. They really were pulling out all the stops.

“Come on, fill out this form. We need talented people like you!”

I nearly burst out laughing.

The guy looked so desperate, I half-expected him to offer me his lunch money. The whole scene was so absurd, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from cracking up.

Just how desperate were they for cheerleaders if they were recruiting random people off the street?

It was college recruitment, Southern-style—pushy, persistent, and just a little charming.

But this worked for me—he came right to me, saving me the trouble.

I gave him a polite nod, thankful that, for once, the universe was working in my favor.

After I asked about the cheerleading squad’s duties, especially after confirming we’d train separately from the basketball team, I finally relaxed a little.

He reassured me with a wave of his hand, promising no unnecessary mingling with the jocks.

Compared to the hot-blooded basketball players, a bunch of cross-dressing guys seemed a lot less dangerous.

A room full of awkward dudes in skirts? I could handle that.

But I celebrated too soon.

As the evening breeze picked up, I realized nothing was ever simple at Granton. The universe always had one more twist up its sleeve.

Somewhere in the distance, a whistle blew—and I knew, whatever was coming next, I’d better be ready.