Pete's Vagina -72.2- All-State

After the cheer practice all week, the pep rally at the end of class went off like clockwork, even though I had to make a lightning change to cheerleader after football practice. The shower had been mandatory, if a bit brief. We ran off the field giggling and laughing and shaking our pompoms like anything, feeling good about the dances and the cheers.

Then Coach Debbie had to spoil it by reminding us, “Remember girls, one more time at the game—,” she pretended to check her big old timekeeper watch, “—in just three hours!”

We pelted her with our pompoms. Dave was there, too, in his costume, and nailed her right in the forehead with his throw.

No shower this time. Lee picked me up at the turnaround behind the gym, still in my cheer uniform. I didn’t worry about my skirt while climbing into the tall van— not after the high kicks and jumps of the pep rally. Besides, I had modesty shorts under the skirt.

“You look happy,” Lee commented as I settled into the seat.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how long that lasts after I find out what your mom wants to say.”

“Nothing bad,” he assured me. “She wants you to meet some people who’ll be at the game tonight.”

That cleared up nothing, but I let it lie while we drove across town to Duck Brothers, one of the oldest hamburger joints in the state. Story was that Zane Grey himself ate there. Doubtful, but possible, I suppose.

Lee klomped ahead of me to hold the door open, and I entered, still wearing my cheer gear. No way was I going to change an extra two times between now and the game.

“There she is,” Mrs. Frick called out from a large table near the front. “Come over and meet some people, dear.”

The buttery political tones in her voice were even oilier than usual, but I smiled and headed that direction, taking Lee’s hand just as we stopped in front of the wide table. One person I knew—Brigitte Montclair, the local TV reporter— sat at the end of the table and gave me a finger wave.

Amanda, Lee’s mom, introduced them all, but I didn’t remember many names, just job titles. One modeling agent giving Lee the once-over earned a frown from me. Modeling agent? I caught part of his name, Roy Something.

It turned out these people were here as part of Mrs. Frick’s publicity campaign for the town, and probably a future run by Amanda at a state representative slot. Brigitte rolled her eyes at me when that was mentioned offhand.

Roy seemed to take my glare in stride and gushed at me, “You’ve got a look, Miss Pete! I could use you in a campaign I’m running right now in Phoenix! For men’s fashion,” he added with another glance at Lee.

Five minutes had passed—we’d barely sat down at that point, but I popped back up, dragging Lee with me. “Modeling? Phoenix? Sorry, I’ve got football games to win!”

Brigitte clapped as I towed Lee toward the exit. “Later! After the season!” I called back.

Going out the door, I heard Roy remark to someone. “Butch as hell, but I like her!”

“Sorry about that,” Lee apologized once we were back in the truck. “Mom has this idea that you’re going to bring the town a lot of attention in the state and national media.”

“Huh? Me!?”

“You know any other beautiful girl cheerleaders who are also All-State halfbacks?” He nodded firmly. “I mean nationwide?”

“I’m not All-State! Those awards are passed out after the season.”

“Do you doubt you’re going to win it?”

“I—, I—, We need to win some more games,” I muttered, looking out the passenger side window toward the mountains, so far away and so blue.

It would be nice to win it. I missed the varsity award last year, and Coach Wilson claimed it was only because I was a girl.

I blinked. “Wait a minute,” I said out loud.

“Par’me?” said Lee, taking the long turn on Main back toward the school.

I hadn’t been a girl playing football last year! They didn’t give me the award because I was a junior! Wasn’t I? Didn’t they?

The sensation of overlapping memories was like the double vision you get sometimes after a particularly hard tackle slams you against the ground. I felt sick at my stomach.

“You okay?” Lee asked.

I shook my head. “I’ll be okay.”

I looked down at myself. “I can’t wait to get out of this damned cheerleader uniform.”

Lee shot me a grin. “I could take that the wrong way, but I know you just meant you need to get back into your pads and helmet.”

That got a smile from me. He dropped his hand, palm up on the seat between us, and I put my hand in his. We squeezed, gently.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.” And we squeezed each other’s hand again.

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This story is 900 words long.