As I fling open the doors, a musty scent flushes my nose. I enter, shuffling my feet on the off white, yellow and green square tiles; dirt filled in the creases. I wipe my mucky shoes on the already soaked mat and enter the gym. This is five nights a week. Practice, in my elementary school gym. There’s around 28 of us, we all have different personalities; each one affecting the team differently. First is the loud one, then there’s the quiet, hard working girls, there’s the know it alls, the suckups, and confident, but not too cocky girls. In the beginning we have to fight for certain spots and positions on the mat, as if you were fighting for a certain position in a job. For practice we do run throughs, it shows coach the appropriate places to assign us on the soft, grey mat. Run throughs could take all two hours of practice we have. The confident ones take front, showing off their firm motions and strong facials; the loud ones are usually in back, projecting the counts to the rest of the team; and the shy girls are usually mixed in the middle. We move to where coach directs us, learning our routine one step at a time. Our feet are all in white laced up cheer ‘Nfinity’ shoes. Steps are put down with force and purpose followed by tight arm motions and strong facials; such as winks, smiles and kissy lips. Throughout practice we all follow the same counts “1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8”, these counts help us strike our motions and move at the same time.

There are times when we get off task, we talk or we mess up the counts.  Our coach would constantly remind us that we had an important competition coming up and we had to work harder than usual. “Focus ladies! Listen up!” she would repeat. The constant ringing of my alarm clock woke me up on Saturday at 7:00 am. Once I finally rolled out of bed to get ready, I thought about how significant this competition really is for my team, my coach and I. We all worked so hard, perfecting each motion and step to hopefully win this competition. Arriving at the school to catch the bus; all the cheerleaders were in their skin tight uniforms, detailed with sparkly sequins and the name of our school. We had makeup piled on, seeping in all the pores of our young skin. The bright red lipstick made our teeth look extra white and the braids in our hair were so tight it made our eyes squinty. Smells of chemical filled hair spray and fruity perfume filled the bus. This is how you knew we were all ready to perform for the judges and fans. It was the middle of winter, around January. Snow was spitting down from the cloudy sky. The bus seats were ice cold, so cold they made goose bumps appear as soon as you sat down. Hard Frost was covering the back windows, warm fingers drew pictures and names on the glass. Different printed blankets were scattered everywhere, bright pink, school colors, some fuzzy, some thicker than others; all different types. By the time we finally arrived at the school, the talking and dancing of all the girls had thawed the windows and warmed the bus up. 

Opening the doors to the school was like opening doors to a new opportunity; yet we didn’t know it yet. We arrived at the school about an hour early to warm up our routine and practice our stunts. There’s mats spracticly placed in the schools cafeteria and throughout large classrooms. Tables are filled with glitter cheerleading bows and food tables were packed for us girls before and after the competition. About a thousand girls stroll by, some wearing red lipstick, others wearing pink lipstick, some girls lipstick smudged off. All the cheerleaders sound like they are talking a million miles a minute. “Did you see that routine? Or that team is good!” You can over hear coaches tell their team to keep their head high and the next round will be better or giving last minute tips before they head out in front of the judges. We have three rounds. One for motions, another for tumbling and the third for stunts. We get practice time in between all three rounds before we perform in front of the judges. This is time to perfect any timing mistakes or frail arm motions we may have. 

We were next in line. The 28 of us waited in the back hallway pacing back and forth. We were all praying we don’t mess up any part of the routine we have been perfecting for months. I remember jumping up and down, trying to shake the nerves out of me. I get grabbed from behind and I’m given multiple hugs, telling me I’m gonna do great out there and to give it my all. We all tried peaking through the small sliver of glass on the door to watch the other team even though we knew it would only make us more nervous. Before the previous team gets over, we all circle up in a huddle. This is the time to get pumped up. We rock back and forth shouting “Who, who, who are we, Pennfield Varsity!” Getting louder and louder each time. Our coach gives us a sweet and simple prep talk, preparing us as much as she possibly can. All of us undo the circle and form a line holding each others hands. It’s about time. 

“Pennfield Varsity, you may now approach the mat,” says the judge. The extra girls slap each of our butt cheeks as a sign of good luck; they yell and cheer us on as we reach the mat. The  roars in the crowds are louder than a lion roaring at their prey. Parents hold up signs with girls faces and cow bells and megaphones are making extra loud noise. People are clapping and stomping their feet in metal stands, which echo throughout the whole gym. Once the crowd quiets down for a bit the judge now lets us take our positions. “Pennfield Varsity, you may now take the mat.” The crowd goes wild again. 

We are given two minutes. Two minutes for the three judges to pick out every mistake they can possibly find. Two minutes for us to leave everything on the mat. Two minutes for them to decide who’s the best in the I-8. Our vocals were loud, I hit my motions so hard, my arms were becoming sore. I walked off the mat shaking, because I was nervous for what coach had to say. She didn’t say much but good job and that’s not normal for her. There were two more routines we still had to perform. During round three, I made eye contact with coach while performing. She gave me a head nod with a huge smile across her face, even though I was running out of breath that head nod was my signal to push through with the most confidence I’ve ever given. Cheers filled the gym once we got done; people were standing and shouting at the top of their lungs. We were finally done performing for the day, it was the time we were all waiting for. Our scores and what we placed.

All teams were placed on the performing mat. Loud music filled the gymnasium as the judges gathered all the scores. We played cheer games to pass the time, about 20 minutes later the main judge silenced us. Each of us grabbed each other hands, sat on our knees and had our heads down past our chest. The judge listed the teams in last place first, then it got to 4th place and our the grips of our hands grew stronger. We were either going to place 1st, 2nd or 3rd. None of us knew how well we did because our coach kept quiet, which was rare. 3rd place was announced, it wasn’t us, then they called 2nd place. It wasn’t us. That means we had to be first. We started to jump up before our name was even called. Everything around me soon started to become cloudy. I am not one to cry in front of people but these were tears I couldn’t hold back. My coach came up behind me and hugged me and my best friend; there were tears in her eyes and it proved how much this meant to her. 

All the strenuous work we put in at practice proves its worth it when we get 1st place in the I-8. There were many emotions when we won the I-8. Together we were all so proud of each other. We were crying happy tears and hugging each other constantly. Winning the I-8 compares to something in life you’ve worked hard for and have finally earned. It’s worth the hard work.