I can’t wait until I can drive myself to school.  Because right now, I’m about four minutes from running laps for being late to practice.  I try sliding my feet into my cheer shoes while also pulling on a shirt, but it’s not working out.  I curse Charlie under my breath.  My brother will be late to his own funeral. 

Maya darkens the doorway to the gym.  “Come on, Callie-ie-ie!” she says, bouncing impatiently.  “Coach gave the two minute warning!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”  My head pops through the shirt, and I frown at the ground as I shove my right foot at the shoe.  My toes are tingling from banging them.  Wait. What?  My toes are tingling?  I don’t have time for this.

Sweat beads my forehead as I widen the mouth of the shoe and concentrate on slipping my foot into the hole.  “Hi, I’m Callie, I’m thirteen years old, and I can’t. Put. On. My. SHOES!”  It’s almost funny.

“One minute, Callie!” Shayla yells through the doorway.

Finally.  I tie up the right shoe in a rush, go through the same process with the left (loosen laces, slide foot in carefully, tie quickly, realize that my left toes are tingling, too), then race out to the mat where my teammates are already lined up.

Coach P. glances at her watch and raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t say anything.  She claps once.  “Two weeks until our first competition.  Today’s our first full run.  Let’s see you put it all together.”  She doesn’t smile (Coach hardly ever smiles in practice), but she does nod.  She walks over to the center line and readies her phone for the music.  I have time for one big breath before she yells, “Go!” 

Bright white lights blaze on my team and me as we take the mat.  There are no shadows.  No places to hide.  But for the next two minutes and fifteen seconds at least, I don’t need them.

Head high and shoulders back, I feel my pony tap my neck as I stride into position, every motion crisp and controlled.  Maya yells, “FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!” and my muscles tense as I hit my opening pose, heart thumping as adrenaline floods my system.  I lock my eyes straight ahead and listen intently to ensure that I don’t miss Maya’s cue from the front of the formation.  Not that I ever could.  My best friend is freakin’ LOUD.

“GO TEAM!” she bellows, and we begin our routine, yelling our guts out.  My voice joins theirs, lockstep, a solid wall of sound.

As I flip and turn, stunt and spin, I feel IT.  The thing I live for.  When goosebumps prickle my arms and legs as my body takes over, when everything else disappears, when it’s just my girls, the mat, and me.

And then, I stumble.