Reaching The Summit (TNT Force Cheer #2)

by Dana Burkey

“You did so great!” Connor called to me, rushing over to give me a hug. We were just exiting the stage after we had finished our performance. Hugging Connor was still strange to me since I wasn’t a big hug person with anyone besides maybe my dad. But, my time at the gym was bringing it out of me more and more. “I think you’re the only squad in your division to hit zero.”

  “Awesome,” I agreed easily. Hitting zero meant we had no deductions. No bobbles, no stunt falls, and no missed tumbling passes. But I knew it was only because our raw score and difficulty were at a lower level to start with. It made doing so well bittersweet for sure.

  I was hugged and high-fived by a few more people, some in the same teal uniform as Connor, others in pink, blue, purple, and orange. At the start of the season, it was weird for me to have people I didn’t know congratulate me when I was done performing, but I had since learned that it was something all of the TNT Force athletes did for one another. Even if you didn’t know a person by name, they were a part of your gym so you were expected to support them. And most people took that support seriously.

  “You guys finally hit your routine,” Leanne said to me, smiling in a way that looked both fake and somehow actually happy at the same time.

  “Yup, and hopefully you guys hit later too,” I said in reply, pretending her words were meant as a real compliment. “Oh, and before I forget,” I said turning to Connor. “I loved the text you sent this morning. It was perfect.”

  As Connor thanked me, Leanne gave her perfectly curled hair a flip and stormed off. I wasn’t exactly sure what had caused it, but wished I did so I could do it anytime she was bugging me. After all, her walking away always meant I didn’t have to deal with her attitude anymore. But, before I could ask Connor if he knew what was up with her, the whole red team was ushered off to the viewing booth. It was little more than a TV monitor inside a series of hastily put up curtains in the hallway outside the main auditorium. It was important though since it allowed us to watch a video playback of the whole routine to see how everything looked on stage.

  I watched only half-heartedly, knowing that we had a lot of tough teams in our division. Even without a mistake, I knew there was little chance we were going to come in first place. The thing that I didn’t think about, however, was how everyone else on the team would react when they got the news I was anticipating. Or rather the news we were all anticipating. Lexi, Halley, and I even bought bows before awards. Unlike the results announced at the award ceremony, it was my team's reaction to the news that I did not expect.

  “Third place never felt so sweet!” Anna announced refusing to take her eyes off of the medal around her neck. It was the same place we got the week before, but since we had no deductions, people were treating it like it had been a first place win.

  “It’s so shiny!” Halley agreed, turning the medal over to read all the fine print engraved into the reflective circle at the end of a thick blue ribbon.

  While the girls around me all went on and on about how excited they were with third, hitting the routine, and also their cool new medals, I once again found myself wanting to leave the competition as soon as possible. The third place medal felt like a participation award they gave out on my kindergarten soccer team. Other people may have been happy with trying a little and getting rewarded for it, but the competitor in me was furious.

  “Great job today,” Connor said to me, coming over and wrapping his arm around me in a side hug. Much like when he had congratulated me after Blast performed he had a grin plastered on his face. I noticed that he still had his new medal around his neck, bright gold to show Nitro’s first place win.

  “Thanks,” I said weakly, not feeling pleased about coming in third, even if it was out of 7 teams.

  “I bet now that everyone is feeling more confident, Nicole will make the routine harder,” Connor assured me, clearly picking up on my bad mood.

  “I hope so,” I sighed. “I just know we can’t win Summit unless we get a higher raw score. Not to mention we need to actually hit the harder routine.”

  “Well, you have three weeks now, which is a whole extra week then I have before Worlds,” he reminded me. “I wish you were coming to Worlds, you know. Having you cheering us on would take away some of the stress for sure.”

  “I tried to get my dad to let me go,” I explained with a shrug. “But he said I can’t miss two weeks of school in a row. I’ll have to settle for Snapchat updates.”

  Before Connor and I could continue our conversation, Leanne walked over and pulled Connor away from me, something she seemed to be doing more and more of. When he didn’t follow her immediately, she tried explaining that she wanted to get a group picture with Connor and some other athletes from their squad with their winning trophy. But, I had a feeling she was just saying it to rub in her first place win since no one else was still taking photos; they had taken so many already just after the awards ceremony. Knowing Leanne always had a motive or a reason that I would never understand, I headed off to find my dad. He was sitting with the other parents, his glittery CHEER DAD shirt standing out like a beacon.

  “When are we leaving?” I asked him, slipping off my medal from around my neck and tucking it into my cheer bag sitting at his feet. I also used the chance to pull on my sweatpants over my uniform skirt. Now that awards were over I was allowed to cover up without one of the coaches giving me a warning for not being properly dressed.

  “Did Nicole say you were all dismissed?” he asked in reply.

  “I don’t know,” I slowly admitted, instantly knowing what he was going to say next. “I’ll go back until we are.”

  Turning back around, I made my way over to where the rest of the athletes from my gym were all standing and hanging out. The idea of listening to everyone go on and on about winning, or congratulating Blast for coming in third was just making my head start to ache. I knew I had Tylenol in my bag to help with that as needed, but first I needed to wait until Nicole, Tonya, or TJ gave us the okay to head home. Keeping my attention on my phone so I could avoid talking to anyone around me, I didn’t even notice Connor was once again standing next to me until he spoke.

  “Does this mean you’re finally texting me back?”

  “Of course,” I lied, flashing Connor a nervous smile before shooting him a quick red heart and bow emoji to represent Blast and cheer all at the same time. After sending it, I was happy to look around and see Leanne nowhere in sight.

  “You’re not a good liar, you know that?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow with a laugh.

  “I guess I better practice more,” I said, putting on a very serious and determined look. “You’re a terrible cheerleader and you’ll never win first place again.”

  “Well, we can’t be friends anymore then,” he frowned. “Because someone as amazing as you can only have friends who are just as good as you at cheer.”

  I opened my mouth to reply but didn’t get the chance. Instead, Nicole interrupted our conversation by clapping the sequence of claps that I had heard on the first day at the gym before I was even on a team yet. What had once been confusing and strange, was now second nature. I responded by repeating the claps back to Nicole, as did the other athletes around me. Once we stopped clapping it was quiet and Nicole began talking to the group.

  “I’m so proud of all of you today!” she beamed. “We brought 7 of our competition teams and 5 are walking away with first, with the other two teams finishing in the top three spots as well. Great job everyone.” She paused while everyone cheered. “Some of you will be heading to Worlds in just two weeks, and some of you will be heading to Summit in three weeks. So now, more than ever, it’s super important to get some rest. I want all of you to stretch tomorrow and drink lots of water. Practices these next two weeks are going to be really critical, so come to the gym ready to work. I want athletes on Dynamite and Flame to stick around for a second, but the rest of you are dismissed. Go home, get that rest, and we’ll see some of you at the gym Monday and Tuesday for everyone
else.”

  Everyone began saying goodbye and giving hugs and taking last minute selfies before walking off in various directions. Those on Dynamite, our senior all girl level 3 team, and Flame, our junior all girl level 2 team, were done performing for the season, so they were giving lots of hugs and even crying. I, on the other hand, turned with little more than a goodbye over my shoulder to Connor and went straight to my dad. He gave me a bit of a frown, but just helped pick up all my gear to leave. Peter and Kyle also helped, and before I knew it, we were loaded into the car. We still had an hour’s drive ahead of us, but it was really nice to be out of the high school finally.

  “Are you okay?” Peter asked me. He was sitting in the back seat with me for the ride home and looked at me with a bit of concern at the aggressive way I was removing my makeup with a cleansing wipe.

  “I guess,” I shrugged. “Today just went exactly how I thought it was going to.”

  “You thought you were going to win third?” he challenged me with a single eyebrow raise.

  “No,” I began slowly, pausing in removing my makeup. “I thought we were going to place even worse. I guess I just knew walking in we weren't going to come in first. Not with a routine that’s so safe and basic.”

  “Do you have to win? Like, do you only like cheer if you win?”

  His question was a little shocking to me, but I knew he wasn’t trying to be mean about it. Peter was just asking me an honest question. I thought about it over for a while, wanting to explain it in a way that would make sense to my best friend. Even though I had only known him for three years, living next door to Peter and playing with him and Kyle every day since my dad and I moved in helped me to understand him, and also know how to best pick my words.

  “I’m doing something brand new at the gym. I’m the newest person not just on my team, but at the whole gym. So there are some things that are really hard for me. But then there are other things that are really easy for me. And I put in 100% effort every time I go to the gym so I can get better. Like, not just to do what my team needs me to do, but also get better in general. I’m putting in all this work and time and effort, and then I go to practice and watch girls only half trying on everything. They can land these moves if they pushed a little harder or really wanted it. But they don’t. They don’t seem to really want it that much at all. So I don’t feel like putting in the effort on my part is worth it anymore just to watch them fail and be proud they got a shiny participation trophy.”

  Peter was quiet for a long time. Long enough, in fact, that I was certain he wasn’t even listening to me. Then, he just kind of nodded, like it all made sense. It was like he understood exactly what I was going through and just didn’t have the words to describe it. So instead he just nodded, then asked if I wanted to go on a bike ride Sunday afternoon. And, as odd as it sounds, that was another reason why I loved having Peter for a best friend. He didn’t feel like he had to change my mind or cheer me up, he just listened and was okay with it all. It helped me feel a little better about my third place medal, knowing I had a first place friend like him.

  Pedaling my legs as hard as I could, I raced to the end of the sidewalk, then slid to a stop. I looked back to see Peter and Kyle walking their bikes up the massive hill I had just conquered. My breathing was labored and my legs hurt, but like always, I refused to walk the hill or even take it slow. It was always a fun challenge I made for myself, and after the long day at the cheerleading competition on Saturday it felt nice to really go all out and exert myself.

  “One time I’m going to race you and beat you up this hill,” Peter said as he finally reached me. As always he was walking his own bike and also holding up Kyle’s as well. It was little moments like that when Peter acted like a nice older brother.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I replied, taking off down the street towards the park at the edge of town.

  As we pulled up to the park’s bike rack, I saw a few kids our age playing tag on the playground equipment and knew we would likely join them. Anytime we came to the park, people were usually playing a community game of one kind or another. But, as we were walking closer, I saw that one of the girls on the play structure was someone I knew.

  “Hey Hillary,” I called out, walking over to her as she jumped down from her perch on the outside of the tunnel slide.

  “Hey, Max,” Hillary replied before turning and telling her friends she was taking a time out of the game. When she turned back to me she was giving me a strange look. “Are you wearing makeup?”

  “I must not have washed my face all the way,” I mumbled, rubbing at my eyes, knowing it was likely some stray eyeliner she caught sight of. Even after the makeup wipes and scrubbing my face before bed, some of my makeup would stay on occasionally. Not to mention I could go a week without cheerleading and still randomly find glitter somewhere on me.

  “It’s from cheer right?” When I froze she continued. “You’ve posted pictures about it a lot on Instagram.”

  “Oh, right,” I shrugged, suddenly a little less stressed about needing to explain. Mostly because I knew I also had posted a few videos of my tumbling to my account, one of which Hillary had said was ‘epic.’

  “So are you going to be at the pitching clinic this week?” Hillary asked, brushing her frizzy brown hair out of her face.

  “Wait, what?” I asked immediately, genuinely shocked by her comment.

  “The pitching clinic,” she said again. She spoke a little slower to make sure I understood. “The first one is this week. You’re still playing this year, right?”

  I nodded, trying to figure out how I didn’t know about the clinics sooner. Sure, I wasn’t a pitcher, but as a catcher, it was important that I be there all the same. Coaches for the town’s softball league used the clinics to not only find their pitchers but also their catchers, although it was ‘just a rumor’ if you ever asked any of the coaches. Either way, as someone who played catcher more than any other position, it was my chance to get one step closer to making it onto one of the top teams. In order to do that, I needed to show everyone I was someone worth picking for their team, and the pitching clinic was the perfect place to get that ball rolling. Since it was going to be my first year in an older age division, making an impression on the coaches even before tryouts was super important. But, as all of that ran through my head I realized that my dad and I had never talked about softball for the upcoming season. With cheer filling up my time so much, it was like all other sports took the back burner.

  “I’m going to text my dad and see if he got the paperwork for it or anything,” I told Hillary as I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and quickly sent a message. “When is it again?”

  “It’s Wednesday and Thursday this week, starting at 5. I'd have to check on the other days next week, though. I can’t remember them off the top of my head.”

  “Thanks,” I smiled, adding the information in another text I sent my dad's way.

  “Are you going to play?” Hillary asked me then, gesturing towards the play structure where Peter and Kyle were playing with the other kids that were there when we arrived.

  “Yup,” I answered, slipping my phone back into my pocket of my basketball shorts. “What’s the game?”

  And just like that, I headed over to join in with Hillary and everyone else. We were playing an intense game of grounders, which was a tag style game that involved the tagger closing their eyes when they were on the play structure. It was one we played often, so entering the game was easy enough. It also proved to be quite a distraction until I got home and could talk to my dad about what Hillary had told me.

  “What about cheer?” my dad asked as soon as I asked if he had gotten my texts. We were eating dinner on the back deck, a nice spread of pizza and salad that my dad had all set up when I got home from the park.

  “Oh,” I said simply. I hadn't thought about the fact that the clinic was the same time as Blast practice until that moment. Until then all I could think about was gett
ing a spot on a good softball team.

  “I got the paper in the mail a week or two ago,” he explained. “It’s hanging up on the fridge and everything. I assumed you saw it but weren’t interested.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  As if I didn’t believe him I stood up and walked inside. Sure enough, the bright yellow flier was front and center on the fridge. It was right next to my gym schedule, an invite for Lexi’s birthday party next month, and a photo of my dad and I that Lexi had taken at my first competition of the cheer season. They were things I looked at often, and yet I never paid attention to the bright yellow page. I read it quickly, noticing the dates Hillary couldn’t remember. One was a Sunday evening, and another was the day after we were scheduled to fly to Florida for Summit. The conflict I felt was building more and more as I walked out onto the deck to join my dad.

  “Was it there?” he asked with a laugh as I sat back down. I nodded. “So I’m guessing this means you want to do softball then?”

  “I think so,” I shrugged, trying to wrestle with my thoughts. “But if I don’t go to the pitching clinics then I won’t have a shot at a good team. And if I miss practice right now, so close to Summit, then I have a feeling Nicole and the whole team is going to be really mad at me. Maggie had a fever for a week last month and never missed a single practice or anything. If I miss for something like this then no one is going to be happy. But, since I can’t even go to the last clinic since we’ll be gone, going to the first few are super important.”

  “True,” he nodded. He took the time to set his silverware down and take a long sip of his iced tea before continuing. “But how will you feel if you miss cheer practice for the clinic?”

  “Fine,” I said easily. “I don’t have any trouble with the routine, and my group never drops stunts. One practice won’t suddenly make me a bad cheerleader or something. No one will even notice I’m gone I bet.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  My dad stood up and started cleaning the dinner dishes. I watched him for a minute, not sure what to do or say. It was just a little shocking that he made one comment and then thought it was good enough to just move on. My head was still flying a million miles a second and trying to decide whether or not I could really miss cheer without big consequences.