Page 75 of The Cheerleader

“One of your Izod tops?”

I nod. “Do you want to borrow one? I know I have at least two white ones⁠—”

“That would be perfect.” She pauses. “You don’t mind if it gets dirty?”

“Don’t worry. That’s what they make bleach for.”

We don’t have time to eat after dressing, so we grab a candy bar from the cartons we take with us. Liz says this will be the perfect place to sell them and make extra money.

When we arrive at the ROTC hangar, it feels like we’re late. Josh and a guy who must be from the soccer team are at a back door offloading kegs of beer from a truck while other guys, including Keith and Nick, are hauling them into place around the perimeter of the massive space.

Liz heads straight for a guy with a clipboard who’s pointing and giving instructions, and I and the other girls who’ve arrived gather around us.

“We’re reporting in for duty,” Liz says to the guy who must be the student activities director. “Where do you want us?”

“You can man the ticket sales with one other cheerleader, preferably female, and the rest of your group can help pour beer when we get started. The guys will set up the tables.” He looks at me and nods. “It’s a perfect fall night, and this one was well advertised, so I think we’ll do well.” He grins. “You guys impressed me with your all-business approach.”

“Of course. We don’t do anything halfway,” Liz says.

I feel funny standing around watching the others working. “I’ll help set up tables too.”

He looks me over and shrugs. “Suit yourself. But they’re heavy.”

“I’m stronger than I look.” I have no idea if that’s true, but it’s how I feel.

“A women’s libber, eh?” He grins, and I think he’s teasing.

I take Sherry’s arm because she’s the smallest of us. “Let’s go show them how it’s done.”

To her credit, she doesn’t protest as we head for the rack of tables at the back and get to work as best we can. I’ll never admit that the guy was right about how heavy the tables are, but between us, Sherry and I manage to get a few in place while the band sets up and the kegs are brought in.

When we finish, we assemble at the front entryway where the ticket—and candy bar—sales will be. I can see and hear the crowd outside. There are six cops. A couple of the soccer players are assigned to help with bouncer duties.

“Carol and I will get the ticket table ready,” Liz says.

The student activities director assigns duties for the rest of us. I’ll be pouring beer with Josh. The band starts warming up, and someone dims the lights. My heart rate spikes. This is a performance, same as cheering at a game.

“Ready, everyone?” the director asks, looking around at the crowd of over thirty of us.

Liz leads the response, a cheerleader down to her bones.

“Ready, set, go.” She throws up her hands and claps. We follow suit while the soccer players grunt.

“Man your posts. Let’s open the doors.”

We scurry to our assignments just before the crush of students comes through the doors, loud and excited. The band starts with a cover of Elton John’s Crocodile Rock.

“Let’s start filling cups,” Josh says. “You know how to operate a tap?”

“I’m sure I can learn.” I see a stream of students head for us. “Fast.”

It doesn’t take long for Josh and me to get into a groove. He does the pouring and I collect tickets and hand out beers. I’m a little worried that the pack of people is going to push the table in their enthusiasm to get their beer and pin us against the wall.

Then, as if someone’s read my mind, I hear a voice and see people backing people up, relieving the crush.

I know that voice. Bryan appears, holding people off with his presence, commanding respect and order as he stands in front of me, keeping already half-drunk students in line.

“Oh my god. Where did you come from? I’m surprised—and grateful—to see you here.”