I Was a Non-Blonde Cheerleader by Kieran Scott Page A

meet Mindy McMahon and Annisa Goborkowski,” Tara said in a bored tone.
    “Gobrowski,” I corrected.
    “Hey,” Chandra said, lifting her chin slightly. She had a gravelly voice like that curly-haired chick from
American Pie.
And similar hair, actually.
    “Hiya!” Autumn chirped. White-blonde ponytail. So much energy, she must’ve been mainlining Red Bull.
    “Okay, we need to teach Mindy to base and Annisa’s gonna be our flyer,” Coach Holmes said. “You ever done this before, Gobrowski?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “A few times. Just regular basket tosses, though.”
    “Okay, well, we won’t try anything fancy the first time. Show her the count,” Coach instructed.
    Autumn and Chandra locked arms in front of me. “It’s one,” Chandra said. “Then two and you prep to jump with your hands on our shoulders.”
    I put my hands on their shoulders and bent my knees.
    “Then three, your feet hit our arms,” Autumn said.
    I jumped up and landed awkwardly on their interlocked arms. My foot slipped off Chandra’s knuckles and I lost my balance and fell. Oddly, Tara caught me before I could hit the ground.
    “Thanks,” I said.
    “I have to do that,” she told me.
    “Ow! Dammit!” Chandra said, shaking out her hand.
    “Toughen up, Albohm,” Coach scolded her. “How many times a day did you do this with Danielle?”
    “Danielle knew what she was doing,” Chandra whined.
    My face turned ten shades of red. I looked at Mindy and she bit her lip. This was not good.
    “Is this going to be our attitude?” Coach Holmes asked. I looked at the floor guiltily. Then she turned to the bleachers and shouted. “Is this gonna be our attitude? ’Cause if it is, we should stop right now.”
    Everyone shifted in their seats, looking at one another to see if anyone would be brave enough to answer.
    “I can’t hear you, people!” Coach shouted, causing my heart to slam into my ribs.
    “No, Coach!” they all said in unison.
    “Oh, this is pathetic!” Coach Holmes shouted. The tendons in her neck practically exploded through her skin. “I said, Is this going to be our
attitude
!?”
    “No, Coach!” they all shouted at the top of their lungs.
    “That’s better.” Coach Holmes turned back to us, her nostrils flaring. “Now you all need to wake up and realize that Kristen and Danielle are not coming back. They screwed up and they’re gone. You’ve got new teammates now. Stop acting like a bunch of whiners and start acting like a team.”
    Mental note: Never get on Coach Holmes’ bad side.
    After that, the stunting session went pretty smoothly. I even managed a basket toss with a flip by the end of the hour, and Mindy was basing by that point. I only hit the ground three times and I’m pretty sure they didn’t miss their spots on purpose. My butt, of course, had other theories.
    Then it was time to show the rest of the squad what Whitney had taught us. Of course by that point I had completelyspaced on half of it. I forgot the words to the Sand Dune spirit cheer, messed up the clap sequence in the hello cheer and fumbled my way through the rest of it. Still, Coach Holmes applauded for us when we were done, so everyone else did too. I guess they didn’t want to make her mad again.
    “Good first day, girls. Good first day,” Coach said as practice broke up. “Just practice tonight and you’ll be fine. Now come with me and we’ll get you some uniforms.”
    Uniforms! I had almost forgotten about uniforms in all the bruising and battering. Mindy and I grabbed our stuff and followed after Coach. She led us up to her office above the gym. It was a tiny stucco room with bad lighting and an old metal desk, but the walls were peppered with framed photographs of smiling squads, dozens of award ribbons and a few gleaming plaques. As Coach unlocked the closet behind her desk, I walked along the wall. Coach Holmes was front and center in almost all the team photos, wearing a red-and-white uniform with a huge grin on her