Fat Boy vs. the Cheerleaders by Geoff Herbach

heard the music,” RC III replied.
    â€œThis is a closed practice, young man,” she said.
    Kailey smiled at RC III. Then she saw me and her smile faded fast.
    Emily mouthed “Chunk?” in this really ugly way that made me boil.
    I pushed past RC III and said, “Hi, ladies!”
    â€œGet your big butt right back out that door,” the blonde-haired woman cried. She ran toward us and her body just bounced in this awesome way, sir. Like beautiful. Like I can visualize it in slow motion.
    RC III grabbed the back of my donut shirt and pulled me through into the commons. The door slammed in our faces.
    â€œWho the hell was that woman?” I asked.
    â€œTheir coach,” RC III said.
    â€œWow. She’s…she’s pretty hot,” I said.
    â€œDon’t think with your groin, man. She’s your enemy.”
    â€œOkay, but she’s the hottest mom I’ve ever seen.”
    â€œI bet she’s expensive.”
    His statement confused me because I was all lit up by her in a weird way. “What?” I whispered, “You think she’s a prostitute?”
    â€œDude.” RC III spoke slowly to me like I’m an idiot, which I am. “She’s the cheerleader’s new coach and she’s probably the reason the school can’t afford your band.”
    â€œOh,” I said. The truth of the matter dawned on me. “The school replaced Shaver with her.”
    RC III nodded. “Yeah, man. Seems like it.”
    â€œShe’s…she’s beautiful.”
    â€œDude! You’re a horndog! She’s the enemy!”
    A minute later, we were back in RC III’s car. He pulled out of the lot. I thought about Big Boobs. The buzz I got from her began to wear off. “That woman replaced Shaver, but I thought I loved her,” I whispered.
    â€œCandy,” RC III said. “She’s a glazed donut, dude.”
    â€œShe’s the enemy,” I said. “She took band.”
    â€œDon’t let them fool you,” RC III nodded.
    â€œShe’s the enemy,” I repeated. “What’s wrong with me?”
    â€œSame thing that’s wrong with most people,” RC III said.
    â€œI want all the donuts in my mouth no matter how bad they are for me.”
    We drove for a while in silence. Then RC III said, “I don’t know about this concert thing you guys want to do. Takes too much planning. Seems like you should be more aggressive anyway. You should get in the cheerleaders’ faces a little more. Make more of a public display. Disrupt their shit a little.”
    â€œReally? How?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know. Just think about it.”
    We got to my house. “Okay. But we need to raise some cash for camp.”
    â€œWhatever you think, dude. See you tomorrow,” RC III said. Then he fist-bumped me and I felt pretty damn cool, sir. RC III is far more awesome than Justin Cornell.
    Grandpa was waiting for me at the door, already wearing his compaction shorts. (Yes, RC III saw him.) “Look at you, fancy pants. Getting dropped off by the school quarterback in his fancy-pants car.”
    â€œI think it’s a Honda Civic.”
    â€œIt’s a fancy-pants Civic.”
    â€œOkay,” I said.
    â€œTime for the circuit of hell.”
    And while Grandpa killed me with the burpees and crap, I thought it might be nice to have some club music thumping to help me keep my energy up. I thought, Wish that big-boobed blonde lady were barking at me. Wish Kailey were here dancing—
    I have problems, sir. I think cheerleaders are hot. Even mom-aged cheerleaders who bark like wild dogs. I’m a glazed donut addict.
    When we finished, Dad was home, sitting at the dinner table, although there was no dinner yet made.
    â€œWhat are you two up to?” he asked.
    Sweat soaked my donut shirt and my stretchy pants. (I hadn’t changed.) “Nothing,” I said.
    â€œOh, no,” he said.