Cheerleading tryouts. This is one of the most intense things any girl will go through, three days of hard core clinics. No one knows exactly what this is like until you go through every unforgettable moment of it yourself. I myself have been through it and know every emotion, pain, and memory that comes out of these days.
I was a dancer; however, the school board recently took dancing out of the school my junior year, so I had to find a new hobby. It was the first day of cheerleading clinics and I knew it was not going to be easy for me in any way shape or form. At my school the dance team and the cheerleading team never got along. In fact we despised each other only because we were always competing against one another. However I was hoping since there was no longer a dance team we could all be civil with one another. So I walked through the doors not knowing anyone and unknowing of what I was getting myself into. What I saw as I walked in did not help either.
I saw girls who had already found their own clicks of girls to hang out with for the next three days and they were all staring at me. It was not the civil look I was hoping for. It was the kind of look you get from some stuck up person when you know you have offended them. I will never forget that look; where their one eye brow goes up, their eyes row behind their head, and they swing their perfect hear around to make it look not so obvious, but a blind man could tell I was getting stared down. I tried to ignore the smirks on their faces and the obvious secrete telling they were doing about me. I knew at that moment they were all asking the same question I was asking myself. What was I doing there? At that point I did not even know why I was there anymore. I signed in as quickly as possible hoping that when I turned back around all the girls would be back to talking to each other about what they were going to do for their own personal cheer.
Luckily out of the corner of my eye I spotted a familiar face. It was a girl I knew since seventh grade. Sam was her name, short for Symone. She had a big white bow holding her thin shiny long brown hair back. She looked much younger than everyone back of her freckles along her nose and cheeks, but she had been cheering her whole life and that was exactly the kind of person I needed. I ran over to her hoping that she would be nice enough to help me out. The coaches came in, and I could tell by the tone of their voices that this was not going to be fun and games.
There was only two hours of the first day of cheerleading clinics, even though it felt as if it was an eternity. However in those two hours, there was no time wasted. We had to learn a chant, cheer, dance, and motion count. They would have a cheer camp teach it to us and each time they said they would start of slow. There was no time for break and my heart was racing at the speed of light because I was trying to keep up without embarrassing myself. Even thought I already felt like a fish out of water. When I thought it was done they added on more news; they told us that we had to make up a cheer of our own as well. After we were finished conditioning with running, jumps and tumbling, I was beat. The day was finally over with, as tons of girls were running out to the gym explaining to one another what their cheer was going to look like. I had no idea, and at that point I was ready to quit. I could barely remember every motion they crammed in my head, let alone make up my own cheer.
Sam came to my rescue and invited me over to her place. She was volunteering to help me out with everything, as if it was written on my face that I needed it. Her house looked like it was out of a old country home magazine. It was a long one story home, with a handmade wooden fence to keep the horses in. She broke down every move and showing me that I had to change from being a dancer to a cheerleader. She showed me everything there was to know; everything down to the way my body should move, to the way my voice should sound. It was becoming much simpler and I began to think I might have had a shot at this.
The second day was probably the easiest day of the three. The hardest part about day two was that my muscles that I have not used in a long time, if ever, felt as if they were going to throb out of my body. Every time I moved a muscle even the slightest bit it would feel as if knives were being stuck in me. I did not want to move at all; however, I did wanted to show the coaches that I wanted this more than anything. So I did what I had to do, I sucked it up and ignored my pain as much as possible. Luckily, we did not have to learn anything new on this day. My head was already swimming with everything they have already crammed it in our brains the day before. Today was simply about going over what we learned and ask questions if we had any. To my surprise I was not the only girl who had questions; therefore, I did not look so inexperienced after all.
After the second day was over, I went back to Sam’s house to practice my cheer some more. Sam was surely tired of seeing it because she knew every motion, jump, and word of my cheer. As I left knowing that tryouts were tomorrow, she was a real sport by assuring me that I was going to do fine. Even I felt a dramatic change in my words, motions, and jumps. You would think I would have more confidence in myself and be able to rest well that night, but I did not get much shut eye that night. The image of me failing terrible in front of everyone just kept replaying in my head.
Tryout day was the most nerve wrecking day of them all. On the way to the school for tryouts I was going over everything in my head. I left an hour before we were even supposed to be there; I was expecting to be one of the first people there. To my surprise I was wrong. As I walked into the room, there were girls everywhere. Everyone had a big white bow, black shorts, and some kind of cheerleading short on. I on the other hand had on all black shorts and an all white shirt; I do not even think I have ever owned a bow. To my good fortune Sam had an extra bow and was kind enough to let me wear it. I did not know how to tie it into my hair so she stood on the wooden chair to tie it into place on my hair. Time was not itself on this day. What was a min felt like hours, what was hours seemed as if it was an eternity. Time was against me and the longer I waited the more that image of me failing terrible kept replaying in my head.
The time had come, it was time to start. The judges handed out numbers to each of the girls so they did not have to identify us by our names. They were going by grades so I was one of the last people to go. I got closer and closer to the door as my palms were starting to sweat. I did nothing but go over the motions again and again, but it did not seem to be helping. It seemed as if I was going to have a heart act because my heart rate was so high. I was reaching closer and closer to the door as my forehead was starting to sweat and with each wipe of my head I saw my makeup was removing. Just one person away I started biting my upper lip and twirling my figures, in hope that it would clam me down before I had a heart act.
Finally it was my turn; the door opened and I felt as if I was going into a room where there was no coming back out of. There was a long white table, were four judges sat. Two were younger, looked as if they were cheerleaders themselves, they had on big smiles to great me. The other two were old with glasses on and pencils in their hands, looking as if they were just waiting for me to mess up. One by one they would name off things that they wanted me to do; however, it was going very fast but for me it felt as if I was in metric time and it was not moving at all. This was it, the part where I show them my talent and do my cheer that I have made up. I messed up! With everything that was going on my mind just simple went blank and I was not even sure what I was doing. I words and motions were coming out but it was not the same cheer I made up. To my benefit I remembered that they did not know what my cheer was supposed to look like so I kept going. I just yelled as loud and sharply as I could and spirited as hard and bouncy as I could. It was finally done and I ran out of the room faster than a rabbit on speed.
The next day I rushed to the school. I found all kinds of girls gathered around the door trying to see the same thing I was looking for, my number. I could tell the ones who did make it and did not only because if they were crying, or jumping up and down screaming at the top of their lungs. As I squeezed my way through all the girls I searched the list frantically for my number. I had done it. I was one of the girls jumping up and down screaming at the top of my lungs. It was the first day of my very intense cheerleading career.
