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backs.  They’ll cut you down and gut you like pigs.  Mele Kalikimaka,” she warned and drew her finger across her throat as we watched her, horrified.  But those words sounded familiar…

“Without further ado,” she said cheerily, “may I present, the one, the only, the Woodsmen football team dancers!”

The microphone picked up the words of the head coach next to her and they echoed through the sound system: “Hells bells, that’s a terrible name.”

“We’re picking a new one!” Rylah muttered back, but my attention was elsewhere.  We all turned as a cheer started in the tunnel that led back to the locker rooms.

“Oh, fuck, here we go,” I heard Addison whisper, and I felt it, too.  Twenty-five gorgeous, tanned, smiling women dressed in Woodsmen orange tights and matching jackets came jogging toward us, their breath making clouds in the freezing air as they chanted together.

“W!  O!  O!  D!” they yelled, and I watched, awed.  They even made running while spelling “Woodsmen” look sexy and fun!  Number fifty-four, with her audition tag pinned to her black sports bra, covered her mouth like she might puke.  I wanted to warn her not to put her vomit on this sacred turf but I couldn’t speak through my frozen lips and my intimidation.  The real cheerleaders lined up behind where we trainees stood, where they would be able to watch our every mistake.

“Welcome, ladies!  Roxanne and Aubin, please start the audition,” Rylah requested through the speakers, and two of the Woodsmen dancers detached to move to the front of our group.

We all clapped for them, and I knew who they were, of course, from watching all the games and from my studies of the cheerleader website.  These women were senior members of the squad—Aubin was the returning captain from last season and Roxanne had come to the Woodsmen after cheering for the Cottonmouths, and everyone knew how good the Cottonmouth Chorus was.  It had been a real coup when she had left them to come home to Michigan and bring her knowledge of their organization and training with her.  As much as moving cheerleading teams would be called a coup.

“We’re going to lead you through one of the sideline routines that we did last season.  Pure dance,” Roxanne called to us.  “We’re starting with ‘Black Cat,’ ok, ladies?” she reminded the returning cheerleaders, and they nodded briskly and got into position.

“Black Cat?”  I knew that dance.  I had seen them do it on the sidelines at every home game and I had been practicing it, too!  I watched carefully as Aubin and Roxanne performed the choreography and all of us trainees tried to mark it along with them.  Yes, I remembered this.  Ok, I could do it.

“Ready to show the judges?” Aubin asked, smiling, and the returning cheerleaders yelled yes and hooted encouragement.  The rest of us just looked nervous.  We had only gone over the moves a few times, and if this was how fast we were going to learn all the choreography, then I thought I might be in trouble when we started routines that were totally new to me.  I had never been the fastest in picking it up when I’d taken classes.  I swallowed as the music started, but I told myself that I was ready.  I could do “Black Cat” and I did, shaking it hard toward the guy with the binoculars, a big smile on my face and trying not to look cold or winded.  Like this was so fun!

When the song stopped, we all stayed in position except for number twenty-one.  She was trying to secretly wipe away the sweat that Rylah had ordered her to stop producing when we’d had our meeting after the preliminaries.  I wondered if I had polished up my dancing like Rylah had warned me to, but I thought I had done pretty well.  Better than sixty-two, who had gone right instead of left and collided with seven.  Addison was in front of me and from what I had seen, she had looked great.  Per Rylah’s instruction, she had gone for more coverage in her outfit today so that only about half her butt showed.  At the prelims, you saw everything except her, um, personal parts.

“Great job!” Roxanne congratulated us, and Rylah’s voice through the sound system said the same thing.  She added, “For now.”

“Ok, we want to try some new choreography that Aubie and I have been working on,” Roxanne said.  The two women smiled at each other and the returning cheerleaders whooped, like they were looking forward to learning on the fly and being compared to each other in front of the nine people who could crush our dreams like Rylah had said.  Next to me, number fifty-four seemed like she wanted to puke again.  I just smiled.

Two hours and many, many dances later, Aubin finally called for a pause. “We’re going to break here,” she told us.  “Grab some water and the bathroom is that way.  Don’t go too far, because we have more to cover!”  Several of the new people immediately sat down on the field to rest, but I saw the judges’ eyes still on us.  I tossed my hair and smiled as I jogged off toward the bathroom like my energy was still boundless, but when I got into a stall, I covered the seat and sank down on it to rest, not to go.  I had worked so hard that I didn’t think there was any liquid left in my body, and still, it felt like this dream was slipping away from me.  Was I doing enough to make it?

I drew up my knees and rested my forehead on them.  I hadn’t picked up Aubin and Roxanne’s routine fast enough, and when we’d done some basic tumbling, I’d been shaky at best.  Only Vanessa, the one who had threatened something dire if she didn’t make the team, had done a worse job than I did—but that was also bad, in different way.  If she didn’t make

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