CHAPTER 6

"…which is why Earth's magnetic field is vital to life on Earth and on other planets," Mr. Warners said just before the bell rang out. Instantly, everyone started packing up their stuff. "Please grab one of the homework sheets here before you leave," Mr. Warners told them. "Test how well you were paying attention in class today. Or how well you can learn by yourself later."

He added the last bit softly so that only Emily heard as she walked by. She felt a small pang of guilt since she hadn't been listening much either but in her defense, she had a lot on her mind right now with cheerleading practice and the try-outs.

"Ah, freedom!" her best friend Britta proclaimed, exiting the class behind her with her arms stretched to the ceiling. "Another school day over at last!"

"You do realize we have cheerleader try outs now?" Emily reminded her.

"Yeah, but that's fun work, you know. Not boring stuff that sends you right to sleep." She seemed to pause for a second before giving Emily a look.

"What?" Emily asked.

"Well…how many people are trying out for cheerleading exactly?"

"Um…twelve I think. Yeah, twelve."

"And we have five open spots, right? So…how exactly are you deciding who makes the cut?"

Emily held out her lands like it was obvious. "Boot camp."

"Oh," Britta moaned. "Emily, no offense here, but you are truly terrible at this."

Emily stopped and turned to her. Britta's eyes widened considerably and she backed up a few steps. "What is it exactly that I'm terrible at?" Emily asked her.

"Well…" Britta dragged the word out for a few more seconds, "when it comes to this sort of thing, you know you have a tendency to go a little overboard."

"Overboard in what way?"

"You know, to the point where you utterly terrify everyone around you and make them cry or pee their pants or want to strangle you or all of the above. It's a varied list but it's pretty much all bad."

Emily rolled her eyes. "All I ever do is the best that I can do and help everyone do the same."

"Yes, but you did it in such a way that makes everyone miserable. It's not totally your fault. I mean, you just have a very competitive spirit. In most cases, I would say it's a good thing. My mom keeps saying she wishes I had your drive and passion with my schoolwork," she said with an eye roll. "But when it comes to other people, well…"

"I'm not that bad," Emily argued. "Sure, I can be competitive, I admit that. But-"

"Do you remember the talent show in 4th grade when we put together a dance team and when the other girls were falling behind you threatened to shove their heads into used toilet water and make them drink it? You even dragged Isabelle over to the toilet and held her head over it."

"I was kidding! I wasn't going to actually put her head in."

"She didn't know that! Look," Britta took a deep breath before looking Emily right in the eyes. "We've been friends since our dads accidentally switched us at the playground. I'm used to your absolutely terrifying personality. But these new kids…all I'm saying is maybe go a little easy on them. Don't be full on dictator, ok?"

Emily scrunched her face up. Maybe she did take things too far. Isabelle had never looked at her the same way after that. But was it that bad to want to win, to be the best?

She looked back at Britta's pleading face and sighed deeply. "Ok. I…will…be…nicer. Just a bit."

"Put your damn backs into it!" she yelled out twenty minutes later.

"Well, that lasted a total of zero seconds," Britta bobbed her head. "Your personal best."

"How can someone have a personal best of zero seconds?" someone asked.

"Quiet!" Emily yelled at them, shutting them up quick. She looked down at the eight girls and four boys currently doing burpees. Seven of them had practically stopped, three of them looked like they were getting there, and the other two were going pretty strong still.

"Alright, stop," she said, and they all gratefully came to a rest. "Now I know what you're thinking. What does this have to do with cheerleading? I thought I was signing up for acrobatics, some chanting, and waving pom-poms." She saw a few people nod at that. "Well you thought wrong. True, most of what we do is chanting and waving pom-poms during sports events and such. But!" she cried, causing most of them to flinch. "It's the other part that matters. We perform complicated maneuvers, difficult acrobatic techniques. To do that, you need to be in top physical condition. Now, I'm sure most if not all of you are unaware that the annual state cheerleading competition is in a few weeks. Last year," she clenched her fists as she talked, "we got second place. Do you know what second place is?"

At least eight people shook their heads vigorously while the others remained motionless.

"FIRST-PLACE LOSER!" she yelled, causing everyone, even her own team, to flinch.

"Our team captain, Chrissy Montez, left at the end of last year and placed me in charge. A second-year. Unheard of so far. But she believed in me and I will not let her down. We failed last year. We will not fail this year. So, if you can't cut it in this new system I am running, then you shouldn't bother continuing. You can walk right out that door," she pointed sharply. "No hard feelings." There was a moment of silence where no one moved. "Well?" she asked. "What are you waiting for?"

Another beat, then one of the girls stepped forward hesitantly. After another beat, she then walked out followed quickly by four others.

"QUITTERS!" Emily yelled, shaking her fist.

Two more, a girl and boy, shrieked and then ran off with the others.

"What happened to no hard feelings?" Britta asked.

"That was an obvious lie," Emily replied. She eyed the remainder. The two lasted the longest with the burpees and two who were behind them. And the one who had given up first. She eyed that girl. Even if she had stopped sooner, her resolve hadn't. Emily could see that clearly.

"Alright. Perfect number," she nodded. "Let's get to work then."

She led them through different exercises. Mostly routine stuff, jumping jacks, squats, hand-stands, cartwheels. Later she had them practicing with the pom-poms and chanting, inwardly marking each of them. She was so into it that she didn't notice the time until Britta pointed to the clock.

"Ok, I guess that's it," she nodded, clapping her hands. "Good job today. We meet again in two days and we'll be doing some dance routines then so get your dance shoes on. Now go."

Ten minutes later, she and Britta were walking down the sidewalk home. "You couldn't have gone like, I don't know, a tiny bit easier on them?" she asked.

"No," Emily replied firmly. "Look, I weeded out who couldn't cut it pretty easily, made everyone's lives better for it. Besides, we need to win the championship this year."

"You do know it's just a hunk of metal. Besides, you have like three thousand trophies back home. What's special about this one?"

"It's…it's for the school. The school deserves to have that trophy."

"Wow. That was not believable at all."

Emily looked away. Why did she want that trophy? Why did she want any of her trophies or medals or prizes or anything? She asked herself that all the time. And she knew the answer.

She just didn't like the answer.

"Emily," Britta put a hand on her shoulder. "You can talk to me, you know. That is what best friends are for. Look, I see you push yourself all day long. All year long, actually. You can't keep it up. Everyone has a breaking point and it's like you're so determined at this that you're literally within sight of it. You're going to hit it. And crash. And fall or whatever. The point is-"

"The point," Emily stopped her, "is that I'm fine and you should mind your own business. Ok? I know my limits. I can take care of myself."

Britta gave her a look she couldn't read. "Alright, fine," she said, shaking her head. "But you know what could help? A date."

"Ugh!" Emily groaned. "I am so not in the mood for this."

"Come on. I swear it'll take the edge off. Just one night of relaxation and pleasure."

"Don't say pleasure like that."

"Like what? Like this? Pllleeaaasssuuurrreeee!"

"Ugh! Can we stop now?"

"Seriously, why not? How about Decker? You know I ship you two."

"I'd rather vomit up my insides than go on a date with him."

"That's a gross image. Alright, how about…"

"Ah, stop! For the love of god!"