The Hardest Cut Jamie Bennett (top novels TXT) 📖

a good job,” Coach Sam told us.  He pushed his hand through his hair, making it stand up in grey spikes.  He shook his head and frowned, looking pained.  “Some of you weren’t as good as others.  It’s too bad but a few of you are going to have to go.”

“To the parking lot, never to return,” Rylah reminded us into the microphone.  I heard Caitlyn start to sniff.

“Yeah, but they did a good job, anyway,” Coach Sam reminded the other judges.  “Pretty good, and it was close, so don’t go and cry about it.  Stiff upper lip.  Ok, that’s all I wanted to say.  So, now, Rylah…read out the list we made.”

She held up the microphone and also cleared her throat, but not as deafeningly.  “First, I’d like to remind you that those who make it through today’s cuts will get a practice schedule on your way out.”

A practice schedule.  Like we’d be part of the team.  My heart raced.

“There’s also a list of appropriate practice attire and a reminder of some of the team rules for behavior, social media, et cetera, and you’ll all start to behave like you’re on the squad.  Although this won’t be the final roster,” she reminded us.  “We’ll determine that this summer.  Got it?”  We nodded and said yes.  My stomach flipped.  On the squad…

“There are four ladies who won’t move along with us to practices in the studio.  I’m sorry to do this,” Rylah said, and she actually did sound sorry.  “After I announce the names and the rest of you pick up your schedules, you’re free to go.  We won’t be coming after you like Mother Teresa.  Not yet,” she said, and grinned.

What?

And she started to read out the numbers of the women who were cut.  “Number one-oh-four.  Number sixty-two.”  She paused to look at the paper and I heard soft sobbing from Chelsea, the girl who’d gone right that morning when the rest of us were heading left.  The ladies in the bathroom had been correct: Coach Sam really hadn’t liked that.  I blinked away a tear or two in sympathy, and I wasn’t the only one.  And I had to remind myself to breathe.

“Ok, a couple more,” Rylah said, and my fists clenched around the grass.  Please, not seventeen.  Not seventeen, not seventeen.

“Number ninety and number seven—”

My heart stopped beating.  No.  Not me.  Not seventeen.

But she was done.  Number seven, a nice woman named Liliana, jumped to her feet and sprinted toward the exit, already bawling.  And I still sat on the field, too stunned to even move as everyone else stood and surrounded the three girls who had been cut and hadn’t run, hugging them and telling them what a good job they’d done, how they should come back next year and try out again and they’d definitely make it.

Addison stepped out from the mass of huggers and sank down gracefully next to me on the forty-five-yard line.  “They weren’t that good,” she whispered.  “Seven did weird shit with her face all the time and she was, like, half a beat slow.”

I had noticed that too, but I still felt bad that they’d been cut.  “They were really sweet, though,” I answered.  “I hope they aren’t too sad.”

Addison looked at me curiously.  “Why do you care?  Don’t you realize that this is good news?  We’re down to sixteen newbies for six spots, so only ten more of us need to get cut.”

“Six spots?”

She nodded and narrowed her eyes at the returning cheerleaders.  “Kennedy’s ass looks big to me and she’s huffing and puffing by the end of the songs.  Total porker,” she said, with a smile of satisfaction.  “I bet she gets called over to talk to the coaches and if she doesn’t lose that weight, she’s gone.  So embarrassing for a returning dancer to get cut!”

I looked over at Kennedy, a beautiful blonde whose butt…ok, maybe it was a little bigger than last year, but she was still gorgeous and an incredible dancer.  “I hope that’s not true,” I said.

Addison stared at me again.  “Whatever.  I’m happy to see fat asses.  It just means more room for me.”  She stood up and looked over her shoulder to peer down at her miniscule dance shorts.  They dipped lower in the front and the back than I’d ever dared.  “Shit!  Did I just get something on myself?  Is there a grass stain on me?”

I was carefully hiding some blades in my sports bra to press in my diary later, but I looked at the scrap of fabric that gave her a little coverage in the seat area.  No one could say that Addison’s butt looked fat.  “No, you look good.”

“I look awesome,” she corrected me, and smiled.  “I have a date later, so I have to get out of here.  See you at practice, I guess.”

Woodsmen cheerleader practice, I reminded myself, and my face went back into a smile, but a real one this time.  I had made it past another cut.  And I was so tired that I thought I might have to crawl out of the stadium.

Instead, I walked with the other girls, just like I had been imagining, all of us talking together and having fun as a team.  Like I’d done in high school with the squad, and I’d loved that so much.  A lot of them were discussing their plans for the night, going out with guys like Addison, or hanging out with their boyfriends.  A few even had husbands.  They all seemed to have someone, anyway, someone to talk with about their days and to probably to cuddle with, too.  It sounded very nice and I listened, feeling a little hollow and jealous.

“What about you, Gaby?” Caitlyn asked me.  “What are you doing later?”

I was going home to Hallie’s house to take care of her daughter, to flop on my face on the guest bed and stay there indefinitely, but it didn’t seem glam enough.  It certainly didn’t seem young enough.  More like,