Prom Queen of Disaster

by Joseph James Hunt

  “There are ten other squads in your category,” Alexa said. “Each from high schools across the state. We have a few younger squads competing in other categories too. So, professionalism is asked for at all times.”

  “Exactly,” Mr. June said. “I know Alexa herself is very professional. We were both in the 2008 Olympics.”

  “You’re looking well, Jack,” she said. “I heard you were teaching now. Only happy to return the favour and let you compete.” She pulled him into a hug and kissed him on both cheeks.

  “It’s a pleasure, these students have been working around the clock.”

  “Fantastic!” she said. “Do any of you have questions?”

  I desperately wanted to ask for an autograph, or at least a selfie.

  “A selfie,” Char said.

  She beamed a white smile. “Sure, but I only have a few minutes before I have to go.”

  Mr. June stood, taking each of our phones to take pictures. I had my arm around her waist, hugging her close. She smelled like fresh flowers but I couldn’t get my words out to ask her what it was.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Have fun now,” she said.

  The convention center was full of children and their parents. I regretted not inviting my parents to watch, but like every performance, I never invited them, and they were probably too busy anyway. It was more about the arts and less about the short skirts and crop tops.

  I ate a small bowl of scrambled eggs and a bagel. There was a lot of food, feeding over 400 people in a large buffet style cafeteria. It was between the greenrooms and the performance halls. There were three large rooms for each of the categories, and each group was performing twice, once in their category and a second for the grand title, but only the squads placing top three could compete in the final.

  It was 10 AM when we were given our schedules. Char had handed over the music for the routine. We had a five-minute spot at 11:30 AM. We’d already stretched ourselves out and changed.

  “Lipstick!” Char called out, holding her hand high in the air.

  “Don’t forget the hair,” Monique said, waving the curling iron around.

  Benny and Kaleb walked in with Dylan following behind. I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck.

  “I’m so nervous,” I said.

  “I saw your picture with Alexa,” he said. “Did you bring that poster?”

  I’d kept a poster of her in a box beneath my bed, one of her 2008 Olympic pictures with her and the gold medal.

  “I wish I had,” I said. “I was so nervous. I’m playing it cool.”

  “So you’re not going to spam her Twitter with your selfie?”

  “I’ll be doing that,” I laughed, kissing him again. “You have fun in LA?”

  “Well, we need more stuff for the party tonight,” he said. “Turns out Kaleb has a pretty good fake ID.”

  “It’ll be fun.”

  “They have a rooftop pool,” he continued. “It’s closed because it’s November, but we’ll figure that out.”

  “That’s gotta be freezing,” I said.

  “We’ll see.”

  The teachers walked in. Mr. Brooks had kept quite quiet during the trip, probably using it to get away from his family. “Didn’t realize you were bringing in the entourage,” he said.

  “Everyone not part of the squad should leave now,” Mr. June announced, leaving the door open. There were several people, some of them friends, but mostly boyfriends.

  Through the speaker a voice boomed. “Good Morning Los Angeles,” the voice announced. “We’re here for the third annual Golden State Cheer Championship, after reviewing all teams over summer, we’ve brought you, forty of the finest cheerleading teams from across the schools and colleges of California.” They explained we were in the second largest convention room with the other high schools.

  “There’s a five-thousand-dollar reward for each school coming in first, including the first place trophy. Two-thousand-five-hundred-dollar reward for second place, including second place trophy, and for third place, you will receive a thousand-dollar reward, including third-place trophy. For the school or college that comes in first place for the championship, you will win a spread in the upcoming issue of SPIRIT, the leading cheer magazine and a further cash prize of five-thousand dollars.”

  “You know you only move to the championship round if you place top three,” Mr. June said. “I expect you to come in top three. If anything, I’m looking at first place. I know, I know, I’ve said in the past, we’re wanting you to have fun, but now we’re here, we’re winning.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better, Mr. June,” Char added.

  “Also.” Bex pushed through to the front of the group. “Winning will mean we can upgrade equipment!”

  “Or a party,” Ava said.

  “What about a cheer camp, or at least the money to go to one,” I said.

  Mr. June’s smile widened. “Let’s not talk about spending money we don’t have yet,” he said. “Although, I will give you this, if you win, I’ll look the other way for the party you’re planning.”

  Everyone turned to see the burning grin on Quentin’s face. “If that’s not motivation enough,” he said.

  “Like we didn’t know,” Mr. June said. “Besides, it’s not your birthday until midnight.”

  We moved from the greenroom to the waiting room where all the other groups in our category were. We knew a few of the other groups by name, we’d never performed against most of them, mainly because they cheered for football teams. The Vipers were a squad from San Francisco, they were close, so we knew who they were. We’d competed against The Roseville Reds and The Napa Sharks before.

  The different groups were practicing their timings, counting their steps. The smell was overpowering, a mixture of cheap perfume and desperation. We were in a circle, Mr. June stood in the center.

  “I’m gonna have to go soon,” he said. “I’ll be on the sidelines watching, with the other coaches, so this is down to you, and listen to your captain—I believe in you.” He moved aside as we put our hands in the middle. “Go, Pandas!”

  Nobody looked. Everyone was involved in their own thing, but it was usually the same thing. One of the assistants came around to us 15 minutes before we were set to perform.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” I said. “Where are they?”

  The woman pointed out the hall. “Down there.” She pulled her wrist watch around. “You have 5 minutes before we need you all ready.”

  I always needed a nervous bathroom break at the most inconvenient of times, and true to girl code, Hannah and Brianna came along.

  “I’ve been bursting,” Brianna said. “They shouldn’t have given us all that juice.”

  “You didn’t need to drink it,” I said.

  The bathroom was full of girls puking their guts up and crying. Some older, some younger. All but one stall was full, and there appeared to be a line forming. I took a deep breath and put my best Char impression on. Hannah and Brianna followed.

  Straight to the front of the line. “I need to go next,” I said. “We’re up in five, and if I don’t go now, I’m going to going to personally see to it you lose, okay.”

  The girl didn’t say a word, she hopped back slightly to make room for us. I turned slightly with a smile to see the celebration on Hannah and Brianna’s faces.

  It was almost time. We were at the curtain ready to perform. I’d done smaller competitions before, but the sweat on my palms collected out of nervousness. I was glad I wasn’t a base for any of the flyers. I couldn’t even hold myself up. I wiped my hands on a cloth in the waiting room.

  “Zo,” Char called me forward, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the group. “We’re on in a minute.”

  We had perfect view of the group currently on the mats performing their routine. They jumped and twirled, giving back handsprings and somersaults. They were one of the larger teams and could cover more of the mats. It squeezed knots in my st
omach.

  “We’re gonna kill it,” I said. “Don’t you think?”

  “If you have to ask,” Char laughed, followed by the unease of Ava and Libby, watching in silence. “It’s always nerving watching the competition, I’ve been doing this since I was five, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  I’d always loved gymnastics, but I’d never been put in any competitions. Least of all, the children’s beauty pageants Char had grown up competing in. I guess this was what happened when the cast of TODDLERS & TIARAS grew up, they had a thirst for competitions and being the best at everything—or trying to at least.

  The voice over the speaker came through. “Thank you, San Diego Dolphins for that out-of-water, and out-of-body experience, we’ll give the judges a moment before we bring on our next group. Are you ready for the Marin Pandas, all the way from Marin County High School?”

  Okay, Zoey Jensen, you can do this. I told myself. We’d done it before, in practice, we’d done it in front of crowds at games, but nobody was judging or scoring us before, we were doing it for fun. That’s when I heard Mr. June’s voice in my head, remember to have fun.

  “Everyone,” Char rounded us up again. “I know this is what we’ve been working for, and what those bitches on the student body have been trying to destroy, but we can do this, we’ve done this already, this isn’t a practice run, this is a game, we’re giving it all for our team. We are our own team.”

  “Give a warm welcome for the next competitors, the Marin Pandas!” the voice came again.

  We were cheered to the mats. I scanned the crowd for Dylan, and there he was, howling out and clapping. The small section in the stands we had were cheering. Mostly everyone else just clapped.

  Moving into position, we stood in complete silence, our heads down as we’d planned for the routine to start. The music didn’t play. My heart raced, the thundering thud slamming hard in my ears, ringing out. I turned slightly to Char.

  The silence became impatient. The creak of our feet on the mats sounded as we stood, growing aware we were about to lose.

  Ding! The sound of a battle in the center of the ring. It was the opening to our track. All nerves vanished, and the routine began.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I saw nerves on all their faces as we pushed into the routine; throwing ourselves across the mats with clean precision, tumbling and jumping, flying through the air. I stopped myself from shouting out ‘go Pandas’. We didn’t have pom-poms, it was basically a floor routine for sixteen people, and we pushed ourselves throughout with ease.

  The music came to an end in quick succession with the routine. We stood, somewhat out of breath and glassy eyed as we looked out into the crowd and the judges. It wasn’t too bad, mainly because Alexa wasn’t watching, but she was watching the finals, and although I hoped we placed top three, the nerves of performing again for her were enough to want us not to place.

  “Thank you, Marin Pandas for a performance reaching above the bamboo sticks! Give another warm round of applause for the Marin Pandas of Marin County,” the voice came again, ushering us from the mats.

  We walked off, in the opposite direction we came.

  I grabbed Char’s wrist. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack!”

  “You’re telling me!” She puffed out her cheeks. “But we knew to wait for it.”

  Mr. June stood, clapping to himself and grinning. We’d done well, all things considered, at least we weren’t puking in the bathroom waiting to perform. In the corner I noticed Hannah hold her hands to her mouth before throwing up in them.

  “Ew, Han,” I heard everyone around her. It was mostly liquid, dripping between her fingers. Mr. June’s face dropped. Someone grabbed her a trashcan I couldn’t watch.

  “Try not to do that out there,” Char said, bunching Hannah’s hair from around her neck into a ponytail. “Anyone have an elastic?”

  Dylan watched behind Mr. June and I tripped over myself to jump in his arms.

  “You were beautiful out there,” he said, squeezing my sides. “I never get to see you doing your thing, but I should probably stand by the sidelines more often.”

  I squeezed him tight. “You’re their star player, wouldn’t want you being distracted.”

  “Do I distract you?”

  “No, I’m a professional.” I kissed him again.

  The competition heat was almost finished, all the groups in our division had now competed. The judges had been making their decision for the past 30 minutes, thirty nail-biting minutes, each one as bad as the last.

  “If all divisions for the Golden State Cheer Championship could make their way back to the main hall, we’ll be revealing winners and runner-ups. Those who place top three will be moving onto the championship, and starting from two—in just 1 hour and 30 minutes! So, make your way to the main hall.”

  They announced the winners of the middle grade division, I wasn’t paying attention. Just taking deep breaths, and hoping Hannah wouldn’t throw up through the nose again. Char pulled out a small compact make-up kit.

  “You’re blotchy?” Char offered me her powder press. “Don’t want to let them see us sweat. And I’ve already thrown up twice today.”

  I pressed the squishy foam into the foundation, dabbing it before pressing it on my face. Spreading evenly into the make-up already there, and mopping up the moisture on my forehead.

  They called the high school teams on next. Alexa Bergdorf sat in the center seat, watching us as we all came through to the mats of the main hall. It was larger than the hall we’d been in, more seating behind the judging panel. I had the image of her coming up to us like Tyra Banks, telling us who was going through and those who didn’t make the cut.

  “Let’s welcome back the High School competitors, give them all a round of applause for being the best that California has to bring!” Everyone out in the stands went semi-wild, not like they were this excited for a basketball match, but cheer moms got pretty heated.

  They cut straight to the chase. “Third place, we have The Oxford Blondes, all the way from Palm Springs!”

  We weren’t third.

  They collected their trophy as a team, holding it and posing for pictures with Alexa and the other judges. It was a lifetime of waiting. They were going to be performing again, they didn’t need to take so much time.

  “Second place, we have the Napa Sharks, all the way from Napa Valley!”

  And second place was taken. We clapped for them. We were civil, they were close to us, but they cheered for football, otherwise we could’ve been bittersweet rivals, and cheer squads thrived on rivalries.

  They took longer. Snapping pictures, flashes popping. Their parents, coaches, friends, screaming in the background.

  “Headstrong,” I heard Char say over the noise.

  “And finally, for the first place winners, and the final group going through to the grand championship this afternoon, we have the Marin Pandas all the way from Marin County!”

  The screams were deafening. We screamed, some of the crowd screamed, and we jumped to the first prize trophy. I was seconds away from crying, tears on the brink of my cheek, but one of the younger girls was already crying and I didn’t want the pictures of me with black panda eyes from mascara. Ironically, given we were the Marin Pandas.

  Time blurred. I wanted to savor as much of it as I could, but it was fleeting. I wasn’t sure what I wanted the lasting moments of this memory to be. I didn’t know what I needed to remember.

  Dylan stood and clapped, shouting out my name, or at least I let myself believe in the moment of temporary hearing loss.

  “You guys did so well,” I heard Alexa say as she nestled in for the group pictures. “I look forward to seeing what you can bring to the final.”

  I felt my soul escape in the excitement. We moved through to the waiting room, greeted by Mr. June and the rest of the entourage.

  “Another group picture for the school website,” Mr. June said, keeping us huddled together with t
he trophy.

  We had an hour and 15 minutes until the finals began. There was only first place up for grabs, but we’d already come first in our division, winning the $5,000 it came with.

  Back in our greenroom we were given food to keep energy levels high and plenty of bottles of branded water, I hadn’t realized, but the entire competition had sponsors plastered everywhere.

  “The party is on!” Benny shouted.

  Dylan hi-fived him above my head.

  For the final, we were allowed to perform the same routine, but if we had another, we were encouraged to do that. But we hadn’t thought so far, even though we believed we were amazing, we were just happy to place top three.

  “Even though we’ll be celebrating our win tonight,” Char said, she turned and gestured to Quentin. “It’s Quentin’s birthday tomorrow, so we would’ve been celebrating anyway!”

  Quentin blushed red in the corner of the room.

  Bex squeezed herself into the line of sight beside Quentin. “And if we need any more alcohol, I have my sister’s ID, plus, it’s LA, they’re giving it away.”

  Mr. June knocked before walking in. “You have 15 minutes. The schools are already lining up for the final routine.”

  Char clapped her hands three times in the air. “Let’s get it moving!”

  I kissed Dylan on the side of his neck, it was the only place my head could reach from craning up at him. He kissed my forehead. “I was going to buy a foam finger,” he laughed. “So you could see me.”

  “You’re a distraction,” I said, grinning. “But a cute one.”

  A roll call of the finalists sounded over the speaker. We waited, again, with all the other schools. The middle school kids were vicious, like they could violently kill you with their easy reach to your legs. The college kids were above it, sitting in silence together, like a prayer circle.

  Char created a circle around her. “You’re all my favourite people.” With a hand on her heart, it was warming sentiment. “We came in first, and even if we don’t place, that’s fine, we’re still winners. Only one group can come first, and usually I would tell you all we needed to win, but we’ve already won today.”