Have you ever felt like your world was perfect? Like it could not get any better? Like you were right where you needed to be, and you hoped nothing would change? You know that feeling of excitement when your heart starts racing and your insides get all gushy because you can’t even believe you’re experiencing sheer happiness? For some the excitement might come from getting straight As. Others might get a thrill behind the wheel of a new car. Some hearts might race in the arms of a new boyfriend. Well, for me it was being a cheerleader.
Yep, I had longed to sport the precious white uniform with purple and gold accents. I had dreamed of becoming a cheerleader and yelling on the sidelines for my school for years. I had no words to describe what it felt like living my dream.
We cheered, “Go Lions! Go Lions! Beat the Bulldogs! Beat the Bulldogs! Come on, you can do it! Let’s go, put your mind to it! Go Lions! Go Lions! Beat the Bulldogs! Beat the Bulldogs! Yay!”
“Hallie Ray, you got this, girl!” Charli came over to me and said. She gave me a big hug between cheers to motivate me.
Charli Black was one of my best friends and the team captain. When Charli tells you you’re good, well, that’s major. She was the best cheerleader I knew. I mean, if you looked up the definition of cheerleader in the dictionary, her picture would be right there.
“You think I did okay?” I said to her. I was anxious to do a super job.
“Don’t get that head all blown up,” said feisty Eva. She was my one girlfriend who had no problem speaking out without thinking first. “Just playing. You know you’re showing out. Don’t slack in the second half.”
Eva was a sassy something, but I loved the fact that she said what was in her heart and on her mind. She never tried to sugarcoat her opinion or make the medicine of her words go down easier. She just said whatever came to her. You had to deal with it. Even though her coarse joking got on my nerves sometimes, I really appreciated that she thought I was doing well.
Eva had a twin sister, Ella, who was also on the cheerleading squad. Though they looked exactly alike, their personalities were completely different. Ella was a sweetheart. Though she also said what she felt, she took time making sure that she never hurt anyone’s feelings. She really cared about pleasing everyone, whereas her sister couldn’t care less if she didn’t please a soul.
The last of our crew was Randal. She simply gave me a high-five. She was really shy, but when it was time to cheer, she turned on the magic.
We were all juniors at Lockwood High School, and at this very moment we were performing at our first home football game. Our team was supposed to be dynamic, and as I looked up at the probably ten thousand fans at our sold-out game, I felt pressured to hold my own.
I went up to Charli and said, “Could you please just call the cheers we’ve been practicing a lot and not the ones you just taught us this week? Please, because I don’t want to look stupid.”
“I got you, girl,” she said to me, as she went on to call out the next cheer.
Charli was on cloud nine. She had gone through a lot of boy drama. Blake Strong, the hottest stud in our school and the quarterback of the team, was her man for the last two years. However, he started tripping and ended up getting with this other girl who gave it up. It broke Charli’s heart. She’s so beautiful and sweet. Incredibly, Blake’s cousin Brenton, who is also a football player, showed up to wipe away her tears.
If being a cheerleader was measured by the heart you had for the sport, then I would have all that I needed. However, that was not the case; you also needed skills. In addition to wanting it really bad, I had a big mouth. That was a good thing when it came to cheering. My problem was that my jumps were lousy. I also had difficulty remembering new cheers and dance routines. Worse than anything, I could not tumble at all.
It was halftime and the score was 14–0. Unfortunately, the score was not in our favor. The crowd booed the team when they went into the locker room. Now it was time to go to the middle of the field and pump up the crowd. With our dance number, we did just that. We were not just a squad who cheered for the football team. No, we were competition cheerleaders too, getting ready to compete for the state championship.
When it was time to announce the individuals on our squad, I wanted to go run and hide. Everyone ran and performed two round-offs, a back handspring, and a tuck. Well, everyone but me. I could barely do a cartwheel much less any major tumbling.
There were twenty girls on our team and watching one after the other after the other tumble on the turf, I was embarrassed. I wished I had their skills. I wished I had their poise. I wished I could do what they could do, but I could not. When my name was called, I did a pitiful cartwheel.
I heard someone out in the crowd yell, “Flip!”
I dashed off the field. There were still a couple more cheers that we were going to do, but I fled. I saw our cheer coach, Coach Woods, give me an unhappy glare. I defied that hard look and went over to the concession stand to get away from the feelings of inadequacy. I bumped into my father.
“You did good, girl. Why did you leave the field? The other cheerleaders aren’t finished,” he remarked.
I wanted to say, “Isn’t it obvious, Dad? I really don’t have what it takes to be a level four cheerleader.” Level four was reserved for a cheerleader with an amazing tumbling ability that I just did not have.
“Well, are you going to spend the night at Charli’s?” he asked. I nodded yes. “All right, well, I’m going to go on home. I just wanted to come out and see my baby girl perform at her first game. You’re amazing. No need to rush home tomorrow. Just be smart. Again, baby girl, great job.”
I knew he was supposed to say that. I let him kiss my forehead, slip a few dollars in my hand, and feel proud. How the day went from my happiest moment to my most embarrassing one, I will never know. But it happened, and I was dejected. The last thing I wanted to do was get back out on the field and cheer.
I was hungry, so I took the money my dad gave me and stayed in line to get some fries. I didn’t want to eat too much and get sick, but since I was not bouncing and flipping all over the place, what difference would it make?
Then a masculine voice that I did not recognize said from behind me, “You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. They’re not doing anything you can’t do.”
I turned around and my eyes met a guy I had never seen before. My high school was pretty big, but this guy was cute enough that he should have stood out in the crowd. He gave a whole new meaning to the term tall, black, and handsome. His chocolate skin was smooth like a Hershey bar, and he had muscles that I wanted to touch. He looked so built that it seemed like he should be out there on the football field. I quickly turned around, trying to gain my composure.
I knew deep in my soul that I was a talk person. I was taking this test with my friends a few days ago out of a book called The Five Love Languages of Friendship, and I realized that I was what the book described as “words of affirmation.” That meant words made me feel love, but words could also dramatically tear me down.
Hearing this guy tell me that I could do it was super special and lifted me somewhat. Though he did not know me, he told me what my heart longed to hear. It made me smile, but when I turned back to face him, he was gone.
Did I imagine him? Did I want to hear someone tell me I could do the impossible? After scouting the crowd, looking all over for him, and being unsuccessful, I realized I was dreaming. I needed to wake up because halftime was over and Charli was calling. Whether I liked it or not, I had to cheer.
Strolling into the after party with my girls meant all eyes were on us. Though we were only juniors, we were mad popular. We were five varsity cheerleaders who hung out, and in more than one way, we were thicker than the juiciest steak. We got called meat and a whole bunch of other names when we passed by clusters of guys.
I did not realize my face was glum until Eva said, “Girl, don’t be frowning. Ain’t nobody going to ask you to dance looking all ugly and stuff. Smile, relax, work your body. Don’t let your body work against you. Loosen up.”
But it was hard to do that when I saw guys whispering about everyone in my crew but me. They were talking about Ella and Eva’s bodies. They were talking about how beautiful Charli was. They were talking about Randal’s eyes and hair that flowed down her back. However, nobody was saying anything about Hallie Ray.
All I wanted was for someone to ask me to dance. I was not trying to leave the dance with a guy. I had learned my lesson of being too fast last year.
Maybe wanting attention came because I felt broken. I could blame it on the fact that I was having a ton of problems at home. I was an only child, and my dad was my rock. My mom, however, was a junkie and living who-knows-where. Every day I never really knew whether she was alive or dead. It took me a long time to come to terms with that. I still hoped we could get her clean, get her to change her ways, and get her to want to be my mom more than she wanted to blow on a pipe. Problem was I could not always find her, and my dad was so frustrated trying to get her to do the right thing that he started burying himself in his job working longer hours.
During my sophomore year I had no supervisor at home. So when a senior guy started paying attention to me, I was vulnerable. He said all the things I needed to hear, but he did not mean it. Within the first month of dating me, he had his way. I was no longer pure. He ditched me two months later after he felt that I was all used up. I was devastated and put all my energy into making the team.
I did not want to be used again, but I did not want to be alone at this dance either. When Brenton came up to Charli and she left, it was the four of us. Then a senior came up to Eva. She winked and was gone. When two guys approached Ella, Randal, and me, I knew someone was going to be the odd girl out. I was not surprised when it was me.
“We can stay here with you. We don’t have to dance,” Randal said, truly meaning it.
“Girl, go have fun,” I said with some heart. I didn’t want to kill my friends’ fun.
Because guys were not into me did not mean I wanted my girls to live my life. Having guys ignoring you and not thinking you were cute enough was not fun. Being passed up hurt.
I could feel other girls in the room hating on me and my friends with their stares. Actually, they were not hating on me because I was in the same boat. The sad thing was that a part of me was envious of what my girls had that I did not: curves, gorgeous eyes, beauty, and popularity with the guys. I was cute but I was not gorgeous, while some of them—even if they didn’t think so—were definitely model material. Honestly, I did not even understand why they were my friends. Last year watching the four of them cheer JV while I sat alone in the stands was excruciating. Now I was one of them and still I did not truly feel that I belonged.
Charli walked over to me after one of the songs was over. “Brenton has gone to get me something to drink. Do you want something?”
With attitude I grunted out, “He’s gone to get you something to drink?”
“I can text him. He told me to ask you if you wanted something. What’s eating you?” Charli asked, sensing my tension.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
Charli stood close. “You know I care. So what’s wrong with Hallie today? You didn’t take your happy pill? You were out there cheering for the first time on the field. I know you had to be excited.”
It was not that Charli was so into herself that she did not know what I needed. I could tell she cared. However, she had no clue about the way I cheered during the entire game. The second half was completely different from the way I cheered the first half. After I could not tumble and flip, my excitement faded.
She put her hand on my sassy, short do and said, “Is it the tumbling?” I looked away. “We can work on your tumbling, Hallie. We can work on your jumps. You can get it. You got to get it because we’re going to compete in a couple weeks, and we all need to be flipping. We’re going to help you. No worries.”
I was tired of that phrase. How could she tell me no worries? Easy for her to say because she was the flipping queen. At this point in my life, it was not that I was unable to flip. I had a mental block, and I could not convince my mind to let my body fly freely in the air.
“What else is wrong with you, Hallie? I know you, girl. You’re sitting here on the wall with your arms folded and your lips poked out. Any guy who wants to come over here will think twice because he won’t want to get his head cut off. Eva was right, loosen up.”
“You and Eva know nothing about what I’m feeling. You two could have the chicken pox and guys would be attracted to you. Some of us have to work a little harder at it.”
“Okay, well, take some advice from us and quit doing the exact opposite of what would make a guy come over here and holler at you, dang. And don’t look at twelve o’clock. There’s a guy checking you out right now, and he’s cute, girl,” Charli said, making facial expressions that confirmed what she was saying.
No one who was making her that giddy could be eyeing me. “Don’t play.”
Charli nodded. “I’m serious.”
Then I remembered the mystery man I’d seen at halftime and then thought I’d imagined. Could he be real? Was he there? Nah.
Wanting to believe the possibility, I shared, “There was this one guy earlier today when I was at the concession stand. I turned around, but he was gone. It’s like I imagined him.”
“Well, I’m not imagining this dude. He’s looking at you like you are a biscuit with honey, and he’s ready to gobble you up. Turn around slowly, slowly, slowly . . .”
When I turned, I quickly turned back to Charli, cutting her off. “That’s him! Oh my gosh. That’s the fine guy from earlier today!”
I did not have the time to tell Charli to let it be because she motioned him to come over. “Hi, I’m Charli. This is my friend Hallie. Well, I’m going to go get something to drink. See y’all!” she said before leaving. But then she turned and asked, “Uh, what’s your name?”
“I’m Amir.”
Charli stuck out her hand and shook it. “Hey, Amir. This is Hallie.”
“It’s you . . .,” I said to him still stunned.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s just that I was looking for you earlier before I went back out on the field, and you were gone.”
He teased in a pleasant voice, “You were looking for me, huh?”
Stumbling I said, “You . . . you said a couple things that were interesting and I just . . .”
“I said some things I meant,” he said in a serious tone. “You can do all the moves the other girls can do.”
I shook my head, having no faith. “Me flipping? Seems impossible.”
Confidently he replied, “I work at a gym. I know I can get you tumbling. You should come by and check it out.”
I did not say a word, and I could tell he wanted me to accept his invite. His eyes appeared to really want to connect with me—like there was more he wanted to say but didn’t.
So I asked gently, “Is there something else?”
“I just don’t understand why you don’t think you’re as cool as your friends. You get all huffed up when they leave. From what I’ve seen, they ought to be glad to hang out with you. You make their crew look good,” Amir said, making my skin tingle.
“Excuse me?” I blushed.
“I didn’t stutter. You’ve got it going on in all the right places, flawless chocolate skin, fly hairdo . . . no wonder a brother can’t keep his eyes off you.”
“And what gym did you say you were at?” I asked, knowing I had to see this dude again.
Amir answered, “I didn’t, but I’m at Cheertowne.”
Randal and Ella were giggling as they rushed back over to me. They took my attention for a couple seconds, and I wanted to introduce them to Amir, but when I turned around to do so, he was gone. At least this time I knew he was real, and the things he said to me made me look at myself in a different way. Was I selling myself short? Did I have it going on? Was I all that too?
I told my father that I was going to spend the night at Charli’s house. However, the girls were having so much fun that when I could not find Amir, my new mystery man, I decided it was time for me to take it in. Maybe my dad could watch a movie with me, and I could feel special being his little girl.
When I pulled up, I noticed all the lights were off in my house, but his car was there. It wasn’t even eleven, so I hoped he was not asleep. As soon as I opened the door, I heard a whole bunch of breathing, panting, squealing, and kissing. I clutched my chest, hoping that what I wanted so desperately was coming true. What I hoped to see was my parents back together. It seemed impossible when we had not even heard from my mom. But meeting Amir proved that neat things do happen. I wanted to believe that my mom could just come right back into our lives. She’d get cleaned up and be her beautiful self just like before. My parents would get back together, and my life would be normal again. I guess I was naive.
However, I then heard a lady’s voice that I didn’t recognize. It was high-pitched and absolutely annoying. I knew I had a loud mouth and got on people’s nerves sometimes when I talked, but this woman, whoever she was, sounded screechy. When I flicked on the family room light, I was surprised to see a lady on top of my dad’s lap. Neither of them were wearing shirts.
“Oh my gosh, Tim, I thought you said your daughter wasn’t coming home tonight!” the stranger said.
I wanted to cut the lights because though the view was not x-rated, it definitely was not appropriate. Not just for me to view, but for my dad to even be engaged in.
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “Who is this lady? Why is she here, Dad? Ew!”
“Tim, you’ve got to talk to her. You have got to tell her about me. She thinks I’m just some lady,” the lady said to my dad, as her eyes watered up.
I heard what she was saying to my dad, and she was insinuating that they had a relationship. That burned me up like I was a pot of water on the stove turned up high. No way was my father involved with her. There was just no way.
“Dad, get her out of here! She doesn’t belong here,” I whined.
“Tim, say something,” the lady fussed.
“Okay, Greta, okay,” my dad said as he got up. That lady stood behind him, peering at me.
“Hallie, pumpkin, I didn’t want to introduce you like this, but this is Greta, my girlfriend.”
I just laughed. “Come on, Dad, please. I’d know if you had a girlfriend, okay? Give me a break. Don’t try to play it off. We all make mistakes, but she needs to go. Bye, Grits, Grass, or whatever your name is.”
The Greta person put on her shirt while she stood on the other side of my dad and explained, “It’s Greta, and I am his girlfriend. Your father and I have been seeing each other for the last six months. I told him I wanted to meet you so it would not happen like this,” Greta explained.
“I wasn’t ready for all the awkward intros, okay?” my dad said to the lady who claimed to be his girl. “I knew she wasn’t ready for this.”
“So you think this is better? For her to just walk in and think I’m just some lady. I love you.”
“Ew!” I screamed. “Dad!”
The lady reached out her hand to shake mine, but I stepped back.
“I don’t want to meet you. I don’t even want to know you. I definitely don’t want you to be my dad’s girlfriend.” I went over to the front door and opened it. “Please leave.”
My dad came over and quickly shut the door. “Hallie, you don’t pay no bills here, dear. You are not kicking anybody out of my house.”
“This is our house, Dad. She doesn’t live here.” I opened the door back up.
He slammed it. “You need to check yourself. I’m trying to ask you to forgive me for keeping Greta a secret from you. Like I said, we’ve been together for a while and . . .”
When my dad got stuck, Greta chimed in, “And things are pretty serious.”
“I didn’t ask you. And can I talk to my father alone? Goodness, no wonder he didn’t want me to meet you. You’re real pushy. You have no respect for his relationship with his daughter.”
Greta looked at my dad and tears fell. He hugged her. I was literally sick.
“Oh my gosh! I know you are not trying to play on my dad’s emotions. He doesn’t need a girlfriend, and he definitely does not need a wimpy one.”
“Hallie, that’s enough. You’re being very rude.”
“I’m being rude?” I said to my dad, as I started to become emotional. “I’m sitting here trying to talk to my father in my house, and I find him making out with some tramp half his age.”
Before I could even blink, my dad’s palm smacked my face. I was stunned. The anger and sadness in his eyes hurt my heart. It felt like I had been stabbed. He’d chosen to stand up for some chick, and he looked at me like I had let him down. The stinging on my face paled in comparison to the mental anguish he put me through by slapping me in front of this lady. I did not like her, and I would never forgive him. If I thought I could get away with it, I would slap him back. He looked at me like he wanted me to apologize, and I stared back at him and breathed real hard, basically telling him to hold his doggone breath. As a couple tears fell down my face, he turned to Greta. It looked like she thought he was going to slap me again because she pulled him away.
Though I had lived here with my dad for years, I was the one who felt like a stranger in my own home. My dad was with someone other than my mom, and I felt like I didn’t belong. He made me feel like I was no longer important; I became the outsider looking in.