The Hardest Cut by Jamie Bennett (book club recommendations .TXT) 📕

blowing it!”  She had soaked through the already damp paper towels I’d given her and was now using the strap of her sports bra to rub at her eyes.

I put out my hand to stop her.  “Don’t, you’re ruining what’s left of your mascara.  How old are you, Caitlyn?”

“Nineteen.”

I nodded.  “Can I tell you something, as someone a lot older than you?”  She looked at me seriously and nodded back.  “Listen, I promise that this not the only chance you’ll have for good stuff in your life.  You have a lot of years in front of you and you’ll have a lot of other super-cool opportunities.”  She looked doubtful but I knew I was right.  The world had been my oyster when I was nineteen, I just hadn’t taken advantage of it.  Caitlyn could, and I wanted to help her do it.

“Look at how awesome you already are!” I exclaimed, and smiled at her.  “Don’t be worried about blowing this, just remember how great it is that you got yourself here today.  And you did that with the skill and ability that you showed at the prelims.  You have it in you to keep going through today’s round of auditions, too.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked shakily.

“I definitely think so, but you have to fix your makeup.  Go to the bathroom and work on your face before you come back out and—”

“Excuse me.  Ladies?  What are you doing here?”

Both Caitlyn and I jumped at least a foot in the air, but I recognized the man who had come through the tunnel and spoken to us.  He was the nice security guard who had led us on the tour through the stadium at the preliminary audition, the one who had taken pictures and congratulated everyone who had made it.  “Sorry!  She was a little upset,” I explained to him, and put my arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders.  “We were just looking for a quiet place to talk.”

He got all concerned instead of angry when he saw Caitlyn’s still-blotchy face.  “Oh, that’s all right, then,” he said soothingly.  “Let’s walk back down and I’ll tell you about Coach Sam.  He’s not as bad as you think,” he told her.  “You know he started off as the mascot, right?  When the Woodsmen used to have Hank the Hunter and the Nutty the Chipmunk run around at games?  Well, Sam was what you’d call a piece of work back then…”  He went on talking to Caitlyn and she was smiling by the time I left them at the mouth of the tunnel.

“Thanks, Gaby,” Caitlyn called as I started to jog out onto the field with my smile fixed in place.  I told her anytime, but now I had to refocus on my own problem: getting through today myself with the feet that were bad, with the moves that made the other girls think I had only taken a few dance classes rather than years and years of training, with the looks that were “pretty” they guessed and nothing more.  I had to turn the “maybe” into a “yes!”

“Ready to go?” Rylah boomed through the speakers, and I told myself that I was.

We danced for a while, forming lines, doing kicks, showing our splits, learning even more routines.  After a quick break for lunch, which I watched other girls eat while I sucked on a veggie shake, we returned to the field for something new.

“We’re going to break into small groups and have you guys perform with the returning cheerleaders,” Aubin told us.  “That way, we’ll be able to see how you’ll fit in with our style.  Listen for your number and join your group.”

I thought my group went ok when we practiced.  I got most of the steps pretty well and while my roundoff wasn’t the best, at least I didn’t fall on my face.  I was very careful about my feet and keeping myself just as sharp as the two women on either side of me.  We were the first group to do our short routine for the judges and the other cheerleaders and I didn’t forget anything, and I didn’t cry or go the wrong way.

I was pretty much dead by the time my dance was over, exhausted and drained from the workout and from being on the edge of freaking out for the entire day.  Unlike Caitlyn, I wasn’t going to get another chance at something as special as this.  I had to make the absolute best of it right now, because it wouldn’t happen for me again.  I watched the other groups take their turns, very impressed but also with a sinking feeling.  Most of the new girls performed really, really well.  There were some mistakes, but I thought everyone was pretty amazing, and I didn’t know how my bad feet and so-so looks would compare to them.

And then, after the final small group had performed and we’d had a water break, Aubin told us to get ready.  It was time for the cuts.

For the first time, the Woodsmen dancers’ head coach stood up to speak.  “Is this on?  Do I need to flip a switch or something?” he spoke loudly into the microphone, making the speakers squawk and all of us put our hands over our ears.  Then Coach Sam cleared his throat, the noise echoing again like thunder around the huge, almost-empty stadium.  “Shit,” he muttered, but then, “I mean, shucks,” he quickly modified.  “I hate talking into these things.”  He handed the microphone back to Rylah and bellowed, “Can you hear me without it?”

We nodded back up at him in the stands.

“Good.  Take a knee.”

I had no idea if he meant that literally so I watched the returning dancers.  They lowered gracefully down to sit cross-legged, so I did too, and then I discretely ran my hands over the field.  If this was the last time I was going to be out here, like Rylah had said, then I needed to soak it all in.

“You ladies did