This story was inspired by Teek’s story by the same name.

Timmy was sitting on the school bus on his way to his Middle School. Next to him, Betty, his bestest friend in the whole world was prattling about her afternoon tryout for the cheerleading squad. Timmy wasn’t really listening. Timmy was no Tiny Tim. If not exactly bigger than all the other boys in his class, he was taller than most. And if he was lean what was there was mostly bones, sinews and muscles. He very much resembled his father and grandfather at his age. Grandfather had played pro football. Unfortunately he had to retire due to injuries after one season. Timmy’s father had been the big football hero in the high school Timmy was to attend in a few years. The father had gone on to play college football, though only for one year.

So no surprise Timmy's mind was on the permission slip for his tryout he was crunching with his hand in his bag.
At that moment he decided that he would make sure his kids did what they wanted and not what he wanted. Even if it was with the best of intentions. Not wanting his kids to do what he had not been able to do. Not to live a second chance through his children. He had to break the chain.

Timmy’s father was not an ogre. In fact, he was a very good father in most ways and Timmy loved him very much. That really was the problem. Timmy didn’t want to disappoint his father. He could have told his father that what he wanted was not what his father wanted and thought Timmy wanted. His father would have been OK with that. The problem was that he would have been disappointed and sad and Timmy didn’t want to disappoint and make his father sad.

Timmy considered “losing” the permission slip or not doing his best in the tryouts. However, that would have been dishonest and Timmy was a very honest and earnest boy. Ernest was his middle name. Timothy Ernest Smith. Besides, that would have disappointed his father and as we know Timmy didn’t want to disappoint his father.

Oh well, he thought. Once the embarrassment in school had faded away and he had grown used to the black tights and the loneliness in the locker room he had come to quite like ballet and who knows, he might come to like cheerleading as well.