After my first practice, I’m stiff, sore and there are spots on me that hurt like when I was beaten by bullies in Junior High. I’m out of shape and it is apparent I know nothing about cheerleading. Coach Tompkins wouldn’t let up on me. I think she’s determined to make me quit the team. The rest of the girls still hate me. Monica absolutely hates the idea of me on the squad even temporarily.

The moves are simple by themselves. Remembering the order of the moves and to synchronize them with the other cheerleaders is nearly impossible. They’ve all had the summer to learn all the routines. On top of that, they all like each other. I’m the outsider looking in.

I’m not sure if the threat of my expulsion is real, but everyone seems eager for me to fail. The girls all left together after practice was over. None said a word to me as they all left. Coach Tompkins asked me to shuttle the cones one by one to the office and then stow it away. I could have carried all of the cones back at once. She insisted that they each be carried one at a time 12 trips total. All this while the girls showered and changed and left the opposite end of the locker room. Coach Tompkins told me to be sure to bring water with me the next meeting. She didn’t want me to ‘dehydrate and have an easy out.' She still has to ‘have a functioning cheer squad’ she told me.

Thankfully, today is Friday. Since football season hasn’t started, I might have the evening free. I head to school after breakfast and a couple of painkillers. By now, the whole school knows I’m the stand-in cheerleader. Someone has also let on that if I quit, I get expelled. I think they are all rooting for me to fail. All I get are the looks of disdain. Nobody teases me, they won’t even talk to me. People get quiet around me and walk away. Lunch time is more of the same. I sit in silence. There is an invisible wall around me. How long can they all keep this up?

I head home after school, and my dad was just rushing out of the house with a bag. “Is Amber okay?” I ask as he drops the bag into the trunk. “I won’t lie to you son. The doctors did say it was serious.” There's a look in his eye that makes me think it’s graver than he’s saying. “They’ve induced a coma to reduce the swelling in her head.” His eyes, like Mom’s, were red from lack of sleep.

“I’d like to see her.” I can see he's turning it over something in his mind. He’s debating whether or not to bring me to her bedside.

“Son, when you sister’s condition improves, we’ll let you see her. For now, the doctors don’t want too many visitors there the same time.” I’m not sure whether he tells me that for my benefit or for Amber’s. All I can do is imagine her in a hospital bed with wires, tubes, and other devices hooked up to her keeping her alive. ”The best thing you can do for her now is to try not to make things worse than they are. We’ve got enough to worry about with your sister, without having to worry about your antics. Dinner’s on the stove. If you can handle the chores at home, that would help a lot.” He gets in the car and drives away.

There’s not much to do on the weekend, Taylor won’t answer my phone calls. I resolve myself to handle the household chores. Mom and Dad take turns coming home taking care of a few things and rush back off to the hospital. I feel more and more isolated as the weekend moves along. The chores keep me busy. It somehow felts less lonely in an empty house than a full school.

I return to school on Monday with much of the same. It’s almost been a week since the stupid prank. Coach Tompkins has me working with another Coach to learn some of the basics of tumbling. “They had all summer to learn most of this, and most of them had had some experience when they were younger.” Coach Reed works with me for the two hours while the rest squad works together on lifts. Coach Reed seems pretty gifted at teaching. “Amber was great at this, I'm glad you have the same balance and coordination.” Her words of encouragement are a spring in a dry desert. I’ve never participated in anything, and this is all pretty new to me.

By the end of practice, I can do a cartwheel unassisted. Two hours of practice to learn one tumble? No wonder they practiced all summer. By the time we were done, the girls all left for the locker room, and Coach Reed went to speak with Coach Tompkins about my progress. I had to carry the cooler to the office and then take the cones back one by one while Coach Tompkins timed me.

Tuesday afternoon was spent in the gym’s padded room. The girls all went through tumbling drills as well. I got a chance to see what would be expected of me should I “decide to continue.” It would seem that Coach Tompkins is working both angles. Getting me in shape if I wanted to continue and challenging me to the see if there was a way to make me quit. I can do a handstand now. Coach Reed worked with me a bit on that saying that I would need to learn that before I moved on to more difficult tumbling passes. I had to run laps around the room while the girls went to the locker room to change and leave for home. Again, the girls just ignore me. I’m on the team, I’m just definitely not part of the team.

I used Wednesday to relax and catch up on some of the neglected housework that had piled up over the past two days. Thursday the group went back to working on the timing and synchronizing, rather than tumbling. I’ve learned to do homework early in the morning while my muscles got a chance to recover overnight. A full load of classes, cheer practice and chores at home leave little in the way of free time. I’m starting to like keeping busy. It takes my mind off the silence.

At the end of the Friday, thankfully there is no practice today. I begin to head home when I see one of the cheerleaders, Casey, think that’s her name, rushing to the athletic field. Was there a practice without me? I reach the athletic field, and there are all the cheerleaders stretching and warming up. There are no coaches. They all seem more at ease without me there. Monica is leading the practice. Did I not get the message or were they purposely leaving me out?

I don’t know why I did it or even why I feel compelled to do it. I just walk towards the squad. On my way over, one of the cheerleaders points in my direction. I think her name is Allison. Monica turns to look at me as I approach. I drop my backpack next to the ice chest. Then take the empty spot that I was in yesterday and follow along without saying a word. Monica has an annoyed look on her face, but she continues to lead them all in stretching and warmup drills.

Monica stalks the group correcting posture and form as we go through the position drills. I’m tired and sore from the past few days of tumbling and drills, but I’m not quitting. I’m glad I’m wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. I can’t perform any of the moves in jeans. Monica calls for a break about an hour in and the girls grab their water bottles, sit together and chat. Ellie walks over to me. I sit at the spot where I began the workout. She hands me a bottle of water from the ice chest and quietly walks back to the girls. I think that may have been progress. Monica calls the group back into formation, and we again continue with the position drills.

I began to notice patterns in what they did. Most things were done on an 8 count. I also noticed that the position drills were the same hand motions of the choreography. Do something enough times, and it becomes automatic. 1-2 3-4 5-6 7-8. The pattern kept repeating. At the end of the two-hour long session. The girls headed to the locker rooms, I was left with Monica. She was emptying water from the ice chest. I was going to help her, but she picked it up and swiftly walked to the locker room silently. I was left alone again.

I walked home, the silence is getting to me. It gnaws at me. Again, I reach an empty house. Fortunately, there is something resembling a meal on the stove. It looks hastily prepared, but I plate it and eat it in the same silence that all of my meals have been. I take in more water to help clear the acid that burns through my muscles. I think a shower will ease my tired limbs and clears my head. No news from my folks means they’re still sitting vigil with my sister.

I’m on my way upstairs when I see a slip of paper just inside the front door. I didn’t remember seeing it on the way in. I pick it up and unfold it. The unsigned letter was handwritten and reads:

Saturday 9:00 am, McKinley Park, bring workout clothes and water.

I pack a backpack with water and a spare change of clothes and set it by the front door. I grab my sweats and a workout towel and set them on the chair in my room before I take two painkillers and drift off to sleep.

I wake up the next morning about as sore as I did when I went to bed. I shower, change and grabs breakfast before heading out.