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

herself, looked flummoxed by these words.  Even I, with only two years of high school language classes under my belt, was pretty sure that Rylah had said something…off.

“We are thoroughly checking your social media, starting now,” Rylah continued.  “We’ll look at everything, including your posts, likes, friends, videos, comments, and anything else we stumble across.  We’ll look at your entire online presence.  So watch what you’re saying, the pictures you’re posing for, everything.”

“Oh, shit,” I heard someone whisper.  “Do you think they check porn sites?  What if it wasn’t under our real names?”

Gravy.

“As cheerleaders, you would represent the team and also the proud history of the Woodsmen.  You may remember that some former members of our squad did not represent us well,” Rylah said, and I thought we all remembered that.  There had been a lot of bad publicity a few seasons ago and I had followed it voraciously, as had most other people in northern Michigan.  “Those women are no longer on our roster because we want people who aren’t just awesome dancers.  You have to have character to be a Woodsmen cheerleader, or whatever we’re going to end up calling this team.  We want people who stand on the moral high ground.  Like Hugh Hefner,” she said, nodding, and heads in the audience nodded with her.  “If there’s something in your past that will disqualify you from being on the squad, then you should leave now, no questions asked.  If we find out later, and I guarantee that we will find out, it won’t be good for you.”

I sat stock still, frozen, staring at a spot on the floor.  I asked myself what an innocent person would do after hearing those words, and I realized that I was acting guilty.  Ashamed.  I made myself lift my eyes and look around the room at the other women, as if I, too, had nothing to hide.

“Well, I’m out,” number twelve said, and hopped up from her chair and strolled to the doors.  We all watched in shock as she escorted herself into the lobby.

“One down!” Rylah said gleefully.  She pointed at the chair and Lyle removed it, leaving a scary hole in our long row.  Then she talked to us more about the expectations for when we came back for subsequent auditions in terms of behavior, dress, and timeliness.  She also informed us that all trainees should be familiar with both the current Woodsmen organization and the team’s history.  “Read up,” she said, and I watched women already scrolling on their phones.  After that, finally, Rylah excused us to go, and by that point I was so tired with the dancing and the stress that I could barely get my butt out of the hard chair.

“Good night!” the women called to each other, and gravy, they did seem perkier than I felt.  Maybe it was me being so much older?  I followed them out to the parking lot and most of them had people waiting, filming them with their phones, handing them flowers, kissing them, crying with happiness.  There were a lot of boyfriends or husbands along with the dads, moms, relatives, and friends.

I walked purposefully toward my car.  I hadn’t told anyone that I was doing this, not my best friend Hallie, and certainly not my mom or my brother.  I didn’t have a boyfriend, let alone a husband to wait for me with flowers and a kiss.  Making this team had been my secret dream, and I was going to keep it that way, until it became something permanent.  I didn’t want to have to explain, especially to my mom, that I hadn’t succeeded in this.  It was better to keep it to myself until—and if—an opportunity came my way.

An opportunity like a Woodsmen-orange halter top and white and orange pom poms!  I closed my eyes briefly and pictured myself in the uniform.  My brother, who was a very successful guy, believed that this worked.  “Optimize your directionality by visualizing,” he’d told me, which meant that if you saw your future, you could make it happen.

I didn’t leave immediately when I got to my car.  Instead, I sat and watched the scene in front of the stadium more.  Now Lyle the security guard had come out and was taking pictures of the couples and of the women and their friends, and he also posed with them.  Rather than pulling out the main gate, I slowly steered closer to take another look as they broke off to drive home with their guys, as the moms and dads hugged their daughters, and Lyle waved to them, grinning happily.  It was sweet, so sweet that I felt my throat tighten.  And that was silly!  I could have had people there waiting for me, if I had wanted, but I had chosen to be alone.  My choice.

Right, alone.  The word made me shiver a little, or maybe it was how I was still kind of nervously glowing on this cool, spring night.  Sure, I had chosen to be alone today, but I hadn’t actually chosen to be single.  My relationship status wasn’t at all what I had planned for myself, and it was one of the reasons I was here at this stadium trying out.

And as I went from tight-throat to actual tears, my phone rang.  A name came up on the screen that I told myself I didn’t want to see anymore.  I should have already blocked him; I knew I should have.  But every time I had started to, something had stopped me, so he stayed in my phone.  More than that—he stayed on my mind.

I looked over at the phone as it rang, vibrating slightly on my passenger seat.  I wasn’t going to answer.  No, nope, I wasn’t, absolutely not.  It finally stopped but after a few moments, the phone shook itself one more time.  He had left a message.

I swallowed.  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to listen!  I certainly didn’t need to hear anything he had to say.