Hot by Laura L Smith

echoes. “That was great, Linds. I don’t know why I never thought to pray before.”
    “I don’t know. It just came to me.” I feel better. I’m less shaky and more relaxed. “I have another idea.” I smile. “Let’strade our gloves for good luck.”
    “You’re kooky.” Melissa rolls her eyes, but starts pulling the white gloves we wear to perform off her spindly fingers.
    “Well, Kristine says the cheerleaders trade pompoms for good luck. Why can’t we have our own thing?”
    “I like it.” She smiles.
    I tug on her gloves. The extra fabric to accommodate her elongated fingers flaps at the end of my hands. Meanwhile she tugs on my petite pair, and they don’t quite cover her hands. We start giggling as Todd opens the doors.
    Clap! Clap! Clap!
    “Inspection in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, Stacey, where are you, blow your whistle, three, two, one.”
    Our captain, Stacey, jumps to attention and tweets her silver whistle, sending a shrill signal through the room. We hurl ourselves into line, standing at attention with our arms flat against our sides, our shoulders rolled back, our chins in the air, and our feet in third position, right heels imbedded in left insteps.
    The room is silent except for our heavy breathing and Todd’s shoes slowly creeping past each of us, pausing to ensure we are immaculate and identical.
    “Jill, more hairspray, you have some flyaways.” He inches down the line. I sense it, even though I don’t dare look. We’re not even supposed to move our eyes.
    “Katie, your heels need a touch-up.”
    “Melissa, a little flair in the hair. Lindsey, help her.”
    Tweet tweet tweet tweet. “Dismissed,” Stacey bellows.
    “You have fifteen minutes to fix your flaws and hit the ladies’ room. We’ll line up at precisely 6:55 p.m.” Todd meanders to the brownies. “Yummmmmy!” he says, sampling one. “My compliments to the cook.”
    “Lindsey brought ’em,” J.T. mumbles, but I’m on to Melissa’s hair.
    “I hate getting singled out.” Even Melissa’s freckles are blushing.
    “It’s all right. Come on, I have an extra bow.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    W e sit with the pep band behind the basketball players for the first half of the game. I spot Noah on the other side of the gym in the student section. He and a bunch of his buddies are all wearing their hockey jerseys and goofing around. I struggle to make eye contact. He seems too into his friends to notice me. And then it’s halftime.
    We line up beside the bleachers and march into the middle of the gymnasium floor. Our boots echo like playground balls bouncing as we parade in front of the stands. We strike our opening pose and wait.
    Boom boom boom! Everything comes alive. The sound system blares our music, and we kick and lean and jump and snap. I am the music, and I am a smile, and my heart beats with the music, and there is no Noah or crowd or Kristine to worry about or outfits to pick out or homework to finish or Dad to miss. Then it’s over. The music stops, and we freeze, smiles plastered to our faces. Sweat dribbles from my forehead down my fiery face. My insides feel like an erupting volcano. My heartbeat is the lava trying to push out and overflow.
    Tweet tweet tweet tweet . We obey the whistle’s commands and march out of the gym. Once we’re past the eyes of the audience, we melt and hug and cheer. Melissa and I run to the girls’ room.I splash cold water on my face, trying to bring down my body temp.
    “That was awesome!” I exclaim.
    “We totally nailed that routine.” Melissa wipes her face with a paper towel. “I think it’s the first time we got the timing on the fan perfect.” She slurps water from the faucet. “Ready?”
    Raven and Emma sit in their usual spot. Unfortunately it’s rows and rows away from Noah.
    “Where’s Gracie?” Melissa asks, scooching next to Emma on the bleachers.
    “She went to get a snack with Drew.” Emma slides over to make room for us.
    “We’re