A Good Boy Is Hard to Find (The Naughty List #3)(49)
Author: Suzanne Young

“We’ll perform the Triple Licorice Twist. It’s stellar.”

She gasped. “Really?”

“Really. It’s dangerous. It’s crazy. But, hey, when have the Smitten Kittens ever been afraid of a little danger? Only thing,”—I held up my finger—“I’m the flyer. I won’t put any of you at risk. It’s just not safe.”

“But your leg?” Kira asked.

I smirked. “I almost think it could be an asset. Something to show how dedicated we really are. Now,”—I clapped my hands—“let’s get practicing.”

Turns out cheering with only one good leg is really flipping hard! But I wouldn’t give up. We spent close to three days mounting and unmounting. Perfecting a basket catch that would save me from hitting the ground on my bad ankle. I just needed to flip. It was difficult, but it could be done. And it would be delicious.

Leona had the idea to leak the story of our amazing cheer to the newspaper—pointing out that ESPN would be there to film it. Technically, they weren’t just there for us, but we needed all the publicity we could get.

They ended up running a column about our “death-defying stunt.” Leona may have exaggerated a little, but it did the job. It created a buzz. Sure, some people were still catcalling or cursing, but that seemed to die down a bit. Just enough for me to focus.

The night after I found out about Joel, I’d sent Aiden a text message, thanking him. I couldn’t really think of anything else to say. He returned his usual, “Of course, baby.” But this time, it didn’t make me cringe. I was getting used to the word again. And I decided to leave Mr. Awesome in my phone. It was sort of fitting.

When Saturday came, I took three Extra Strength Advil before the squad and I were going to have a pregame practice. We were all nervous. Word was that the game was sold out—the first time since Phil Collins! My parents had made an extra-large puff paint sign that read, “GO SMITTEN KITTENS,” rather than the Wildcats. I appreciated their support.

On the field, Kira was out on the grass, stretching out her split. “Hey!” she called as I went to sit next to her.

“Hey.”

“Nervous?” she asked, bending to one side and then the other.

“A little. No, scratch that. A lot.”

Kira paused and looked me over. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

I watched Kira’s blue eyes take me in, her blond curls blowing in the breeze. I liked being by her side again. I’d missed being her friend. “Yes, I do,” I answered.

Her mouth twitched into a smile, and she reached out to touch my leg. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Anything.”

“Joel and I talk every night. He’s my best friend.” She paused. “Nothing romantic has gone on, but I thought you should know… . I was hoping something would. I was always hoping he’d choose me. I’m still in love with him.”

I pressed my lips together and looked at the grass, her confession stinging a bit, but not unbearably so. I met her eyes again. “I know. And you have my blessings.”

She nodded, pulling her hand back to stretch again. After a minute of silence, I thought of something. “K, remember when you wanted to talk to me about the handbook? What did you want to change?”

“Oh.” She stopped a minute, thinking. “I updated it. I was wondering if you’d take a look.”

Well, that was great of her. I’d been meaning to update that thing ever since Mary Rudick tried to steal my boyfriend. She didn’t exactly evoke the best feelings in me. “That’s spectacular, Kira. I’d love to.”

There was a loud whistle, and we looked up to see the rest of the squad arriving. The sea of maroon and gray uniforms and pom-poms made my heart pump.

It was almost time. Out in the parking lot, a bus pulled up with the ESPN logo painted on it. Fancy!

“Ready or not,” I said to myself, climbing to my feet, “here we come.”

I looked out over the crowd. The wind was blowing, and my throat was tight with anxiety. The audience in the front row of the cheer section were supporters. Smitten Kitten signs from both of my parents and some of our past clients. ESPN had set up their cameras near the field post, and I was keenly aware that the operator must have had a thing for cheerleaders. He panned over our legs more than once.

But then, up near the top of the bleachers, were guys—ones who weren’t exactly fans. They booed to let us know.

As we stood in formation on the sidelines, waiting for halftime, Blaze Harmon—who was walking off an on-field collision—walked directly between us. He was carrying his maroon helmet at his side, black smeared under his eyes. He looked menacing. When he passed by, he snorted, then spit toward Chloe. Barely missing her.

“Hey, Harmon,” she called casually as he continued to walk away. He looked over his shoulder at her, a snide expression on his face. She smiled sweetly. “Next time you try to spit on me, I’ll knee your nuts so hard they’ll rename you Nancy.”

Leona choked on her laughter. Blaze’s face fell as he looked between us and then limped back toward his bench. I didn’t correct Chloe’s statement. It was about time the Smitten Kittens grew a set of claws.

Just then the buzzer sounded for halftime. My breath caught in my chest, and I darted a look over to ESPN’s cameras. This was it. As if sensing the tension, some people in the bleachers stood up. My mother clutched the collar of her turtleneck. My father put his arm around her and gave me a thumbs-up.

It was showtime.

I used my crutches, now even more bedazzled, as we hurried out into center field. Once there, I laid them off to the side and took a deep breath as the girls formed two lines behind me.

“Ready? Okay.” I began, my projection reaching the crowd, my voice ringing with confidence even though I didn’t entirely feel it. I kept my knee bent as I did the arm movements, and the girls did a full-scale cheer behind me. I tried to concentrate.

Chloe zoomed past me, in front of the squad, as she did backflip after backflip until she was out of sight. Izzie and Kira did simultaneous cartwheels that got them back to the building spot. Now.

“And when we’re done,” I yelled, hopping backward until I felt Leona’s steady hand at my back. As carefully as I could, I began to climb. It seemed like forever, and I heard the girls echo my cheer line, signaling me. I was almost there.

At the top, Izzie grinned at me, her hands ready to clasp my feet. And I was there, on top of the largest pyramid we’d ever built. On top of the best group of cheerleaders ever assembled.