Cheerleader
It was the most important day of my life. My years of practice and patience were about to pay off, but I was more nervous than a dog in a round room. The first day of Cheerleading Practice. Sure, I would be the first male cheerleader in the history of South High School, so I would have to wear really tight tights for a while, but that didn't matter. I had been practicing for as long as I could remember, and I was getting better and better. When it was my turn, I walked into the office of the cheerleaders' head instructor. She looked at me and laughed. I waited. I knew that the jeers would come, but I didn't care. I knew that it didn't matter what other people would think, as long as I was doing my best. After the laughter subsided, I waited for a minute and said, "I want to be a cheerleader." This time she didn't laugh, but I could tell she was struggling to keep a straight face. She finally asked me, "Do you know the cheers?" "No," I said. "Could you throw someone in the air?" "Not very high." "Can you clap?" "Not in rhythm." "Have you ever been to a basketball game?" "No." "Football?" "No." "Can you shout real loud?" "Not really." She looked at me for a minute and said, "What can you do, then?" But before I could answer, a girl poked her head through the door and said, "Oops, sorry. I thought this was cheerleading practice." Then she left. I said to the instructor, "Do you have a mat?" "Sure, I'll run and get it." When she got it, I crouched down in front on it and said to myself, "Well, here goes nuthin'." Then I leaned forward, tucked my head and executed a perfect somersault.
Of course, I got a spot on the varsity football cheering squad. And at every game, halftime arrived, you could hear the crowd for miles around, chanting, "Somersault! Somersault! Somersault!"
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