Mom Forced Me Into Pom-Poms - Part 2

OTHER PARTS |  ALL STORY LIST

And then his mother spoke and it was as if she was able to read his mind.  "You know, Jess, I expect you to put in one hundred percent effort today. I know how good you are at your routines. If you do less than your best, I will be so annoyed you will end up doing ballet with the beginners' girls' class. Do I make myself clear?"  

She was looking at him through the driver's mirror again. As he nodded and whispered, "Yes, Mom," a little cold shiver ran through him. 

How could she have guessed what he was thinking?   And then, all too soon, just as the clock struck ten, they were turning into the school parking lot. Jesse was disappointed to see it was about a third full. Clearly, a lot of people had turned up for tryouts. 

Clearly, a lot of people were going to see him there. This was definitely going to be a long and difficult morning.  His mom pulled into a vacant spot and turned off the engine. 

 "Grab your bag, Jess, and come along," she said. 

"We need to get you registered."  He sat frozen in his seat.  "Do I have to go in right now? Can't I just wait here until it is, like, my turn?" he pleaded, desperately.  

"Don't be silly, Jess. Of course, you have to go inside. Now, come on, we need to get going."  

Reluctantly, his heart beginning to beat faster, he unfastened his belt, opened the door, and grabbing the handles of the awful cheer bag, dragged it after him out of the car. 

Once he stepped out into the sunshine, his mom locked the car and began to stride purposefully toward the school entrance. He had to run after her to keep up.  Several people were milling around the hallway as they entered. 

He kept his head down, too embarrassed to look around, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see girls of various ages and older women, too, presumably their moms or sisters. 

They all appeared to heading in the same direction - towards the school gym.  

And that's where he found himself a few moments later. The room was a hive of activity, with lots of noise, some girls getting in last-minute practice, others in little groups talking, older women moms talking, and others standing by the table at the top, where he guessed the head cheerleaders must be sitting. 

That was the direction in which his mom purposefully strode. He felt his face burn as he followed close behind.  

A queue of about six people were standing at the table waiting to register and his mom took her place behind them. 

He stood right behind her, as close to her as possible, trying to look as small and inconspicuous as he could. He placed the bag by his feet and shyly looked around the room.  

It was all girls and older women, and there wasn't a single guy that he could see. And he recognized many of the girls. Some were in his grade and a couple of others were his neighbors. And then the terrible truth finally hit him. 

It didn't matter if his male friends saw him going to tryouts or not because soon the girls would identify him anyway and then the entire school would know that Jesse Skelton had tried out for cheer. 

It didn't matter now whether he made the team or he didn't, or how well or how poorly he performed all was utterly, totally, completely lost.  

Then, all too soon, they were top of the queue. He listened with trepidation as his mom introduced herself to the three teenage girls behind the table. Then she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out in front of her.  

"And this is my son, Jess Skelton. Jess is going into Seventh grade and he is really excited about trying out for the team today. Aren't you, hunny?"  He smiled weakly, mortified, as the girls behind the desk studied him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.  

"Umn," the one in the middle said, "we don't have boys try out for cheer. I mean, like, we've never had." 

 "Maybe so, but there's nothing in the rules that says they can't," his mom replied, firmly. "I've checked them."  

The girl in the middle picked up a tattered book that was sitting on the table by her elbow and began to flick through it, her colleagues on either side leaning in around her so that they could look, too. She found whatever she was looking for and showed it to her friends. 

 "There is nothing that explicitly says it's girls only," she said. 

"The book just refers to candidates, so I guess, yeah, he can try out. But it will have to be on the same basis as everyone else. No special favors or concessions just cos he's a boy." 

 "I understand that and we wouldn't have it any other way. Would we, Jess?" she said, looking from the girls back down at him.  

He flushed even more and nodded.  

And why did she have to keep calling him Jess in front of people like that, he wondered, seething inside. His situation was bad enough without that added embarrassment. She was making his name sound all girly. 

He knew that if she didn't stop it, soon everyone in school would be calling him that name, too.  

"That's fine then," the girl said again, writing his name into the ledger in front of her. "Jess can take his place over there on the benches with the other... with the girls and we look forward to seeing him try out."  

She tried to stifle a grin as she looked at the red-faced boy in his immaculate cheer gear with a cheer bag by his feet that he wouldn't even need today. We are going to have some fun watching this mommy's boy strut his stuff, she thought.  

As he picked up his bag and turned to follow his mom to the benches at the back of the gym, he thought he heard a little gasp from some of the girls and their companions who had been queuing behind. 

He didn't look at them but kept his eyes on the floor as he followed his mom. 

She found some space on the bleacher-like benches and motioned to him to sit beside her. 

 Even still, he was reluctant to raise his head. He couldn't face people seeing him. He imagined that they were already all pointing at him and whispering and talking about him. And probably laughing at him, too.  His mom nudged him on the shoulder.  

"Lift your head, Jess. Don't be looking down like that. Come on, smile," she ordered him.  Reluctantly, he raised his head. 

He figured maybe there were, like, ten people now sitting on the benches around them, and lots of others scattered about the hall. He didn't know how many there were in total, but it looked like sixty or even a hundred. And he couldn't see a single boy. Well, one or two little boys had come along with their older sisters or moms, but they were just kids and they wouldn't be trying out. There wasn't a single older boy that he could see in the entire room.  He wasn't sure either how many had turned up for tryouts. Some of the girls in the room, he thought, were already members of the cheer team; at least, he had seen them in cheer uniforms before, though most were dressed in regular clothes today. He presumed they were there to help out or just to see what the standard was like.  

Others were wearing cheer clothes in a variety of colors, and what was especially humiliating was that most of them were dressed the same as him, in little cheer shorts and tops. 

A few wore track bottoms, but most were showing a lot of legs, just like he was.  He noticed also that almost all of them were wearing high ponytails with bows in their hair and some makeup. At least, that was one torture his mother hadn't inflicted upon him.  

And then, to his horror, he saw two girls pointing in his direction and beginning to walk toward him. He knew them Megan Sanders and Ashley de Klerk. They were in his class in school, and they were two of the girliest girls you could ever hope to avoid.  

"Fuck," he moaned inwardly, "I don't wanna talk to them." But he knew he wouldn't have a choice, because already they had made their way across the hall and were now standing right in front of him.  

"Oh my god, Jesse, is that you? You're actually trying out for cheer?" exclaimed Ashley, breathlessly. She was always the more vocal and excitable of the two.  "Oh my god, you're even wearing real cheer clothes," she continued to gush, not allowing him the chance to make a reply, which he didn't want to do anyway. "This is, like, sooo awesome. 

Me and Megan are trying out, too."  And she gestured to indicate the clothes they were wearing, which were almost exactly identical to his own.  He smiled at them weakly, as he felt his face grow an even deeper red.  "Hey, wouldn't it be, like, just so awesome," she continued, switching her excited gaze from him to Megan, "if all three of us made the team? It would be such amazing fun."  He couldn't think of anything less fun in the whole world.  

It was then that his mother intervened.  

"That sounds like it would be wonderful, girls," she said, smiling broadly at them. Then, she switched her gaze back to Jesse.  "Jess, are you not going to introduce me to your friends?"  He tried to speak but barely registered a whisper. 

 "This is Ashley and this is Megan," he finally mumbled, indicating who was who by the direction of his eyes.  "Very pleased to meet you, girls," his mom answered. "I'm Jess' mom and it's lovely to meet some of his friends who are also trying out for cheer. I'm sure that you'll both be just as good as Jess is." 

 "Has Jesse been practicing a lot, then, Mrs Skelton?" asked Megan, finally finding her voice. She couldn't take her eyes off the boy sitting in front of her, especially how smooth his legs looked in his shorts. He definitely must have shaved them, she thought.  

"Oh yes," answered his mom. "Jess has been practicing for at least an hour every day since school broke up for the summer. 

He's determined to make the team, aren't you, honey?" she said, looking at him proudly.  But he didn't reply, he just hung his head a little more. Revealing the information about his practice sessions was just way too embarrassing.  "Well, we gotta go and get ready," Ashley said. 

"We can't wait to see you try out, Jesse. We really hope you make it."  

And the two girls turned and walked away, and he thought he could hear them giggle as they went.  

And he knew with cold certainty that before very long everyone in the hall would know that he was there and that he would be trying out. 

And it seemed that no sooner had he articulated the thought than he could see people from every corner of the room begin to look in his direction, and smile and wave, and talk behind their hands, and even laugh a little. And he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.  

The area around the top table had begun to clear by now, and then the PA crackled into life. A voice from the top table spoke. The girl in the middle was holding the microphone, the one who had taken his details earlier. 

 "If we could have silence, please," the girl said, in a clear, commanding voice. The hall quieted down almost completely.  

"Good morning," she said again. "And you're all very welcome to tryouts for the 14-15 season here at Madison Heights School. 

My name is Crystal Meehan. I cheer for East High but I am also the coach of our cheer team here at Madison Heights, which is the feeder team for East Middle and High. I am joined at the table by our assistant coaches, Tiffany Gerrard, on my right, and Cindy Stapleton, on my left. We will be judging tryouts today.  

"We are delighted that there has been such a big turnout this morning. Seventeen girls... I mean people... will be trying out for eight vacant spots. As you may know, our team is made up of a maximum of twelve members, but I have to tell you also that we won't automatically fill all those spots. 

We maintain high standards here at Madison Heights and we won't select people just to make up numbers. Only those judged good enough by us can hope to make the team. If that means we end up with just eight or ten on the team for this season, so be it. We would rather have a smaller team of good cheerleaders than a larger team that contains some weaker members. 

So I strongly suggest that you all do your very best today, which I'm sure you will.  "We will call you in the order in which you have registered and each of you will be expected to complete a full ninety-second dance program to the music that has been selected."  

The girl then went through the names of all seventeen candidates and the running order in which they would try out, and Jesse learned that he was thirteenth on the list. 

He felt so embarrassed hearing his name called out over the PA along with those of sixteen girls. And he thought he could feel more eyes fall on him.  The first to try out was Ashley de Klerk, the girly girl who had spoken to him earlier. She took her position in the center of the hall facing the top table and hung her head a little, in readiness. The room hushed and then the music started. Immediately, Jesse recognized the tune. It was a Flo-Rida music mix, and he had been practicing it for the last two weeks. 

How did his mom know what music to have him practice to, he wondered.  Ashley was really good and he studied her routine carefully. It was almost exactly the same as his. When she finished, she gave a little bow and then skipped away to join her mom, as the crowd clapped its approval.  Jesse began to feel his stomach tighten.  Megan was up next.

 She and Ashley had clearly been the first to arrive this morning. She performed with confidence and style and was just as good as Ashley. Jesse, despite himself, was impressed.  His mom turned to him.  

"You better go and warm up now, Jess. You won't feel until it's your turn."  

He looked at her.  "What do you mean warm up?"  "You need to go through your stretches and your routine to be ready when your name is called. See where the girls are warming up," she said, pointing toward a small group of girls who were exercising at the back of the hall. "Now stand up till I take off your jacket."  

He stood up, nonplussed, and she unzipped his jacket and helped him out of it. Standing now in just his little top and shorts he felt even more naked and exposed than before.  

"Go on now and practice your routine," she instructed him. "I'll be able to keep an eye on you from here."  She gave his bottom a little pat and sent him gently away. 

Self-consciously, he made his way down to where the others were loosening up. Some of the girls smiled at him and said hi, but a couple sneered or just plain ignored him.  He did some stretches and then went through his workout. As he did, he watched the girls trying out. 

Some were good, one was really good, and several were awful. 

One girl ran away crying after she messed up halfway through her routine. He almost felt sorry for her.  As girl after girl completed her program, he knew that his turn was drawing ever closer. And then he saw his mom beckoning him to come to her. 

With growing trepidation, his stomach tightening, he made his way back up to the benches.  She fussed with his top and shorts, then took a brush from his cheer bag and ran it several times through his hair, which hadn't been cut all summer and which now hung a little past his ears.  

"There, you look lovely," she declared. "I know you're going to do just great. I'm counting on you. Now go out there and bring the house down."  He felt himself tense up and begin to panic. He was afraid he might cry. He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to try out. 

He didn't want all these people seeing him with his smooth legs dressed like this. He didn't want to be a laughing stock with his life over. He just wanted to go home. 

His bottom lip trembled, and his eyes swelled up. He looked plaintively, desperately, at his mom. She saw his fear. But her look was resolute. He knew there was no way out; there would be no escape.  Slowly, as if walking to his execution, he made his way down to take up his position. 

He kept his eyes on the floor, he dared not look around. As his name was called out over the PA, and he walked to the designated spot in the center of the hall, he could feel every eye in the place zone in on him, the boy who was trying out for cheer.

 He felt as if he couldn't breathe, his mouth was dry, and his legs began to shake.  And then the music started up, the music with which he was so familiar, the music that had been part of his life all summer, and it was as if a switch tripped in his brain and he took on a new persona and he began to move and dance with ease and grace. 

He slipped into his regular rhythm and, before he knew it, the ninety seconds of torture were over, and as he stopped and stood still, he heard what sounded like a crescendo of whooping and cheering and applause. 

He looked around and everywhere people were clapping and smiling at him. 

He gave the judges the little bow he saw the other contestants make and, red-faced and relieved, ran across the open space and up into the benches to where his mom stood.  She embraced him and hugged him tight.  

"You were marvelous, hunny," she whispered in his ear. 

"You couldn't have done any better. I'm so proud of you."  And even though a big part of him felt that that wasn't a very good thing to be told, another part of him, the competitive part, was happy that he had done so well.  

"Now put on your jacket, Jess," his mom instructed him, holding it out for him to slip his arms into. She zipped it up and he sat beside her while the four remaining candidates went through their routines.    

Next thing he knew, Ashley and Megan were standing there before him, their faces all alight.  

"Oh my god, Jesse," squealed Ashley, "you were, like, so awesome. I mean like really awesome. You're definitely gonna make the team."  Megan nodded vigorously beside her.  He smiled weakly at them.  

"Thanks," he said, softly. "You two were really good, too." 

 "Seriously, you think so?" squealed Ashley, clapping her hands in excitement. "You think we'll make it?"  "Yeah, for sure," he replied. "You two were the best." 

 "You were both fantastic," his mom chimed in, smiling at the girls. "I know all three of you are going to make the team."  

"Oh, thank you, Mrs Skelton," Ashley gushed. "It would be, like, so awesome if the three of us did."  Jesse desperately hoped that wouldn't be the case, but he had a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

There was a very real danger that what the girls and his mom hoped for would indeed come true.  After the last of the candidates had tried out, Crystal took the microphone again.  

"That completes tryouts for this season," she said. "I would like to thank every girl...umm... candidate who tried out today. I think you'll agree that the standard was exceptionally high, and we judges are going to have some really tough decisions to make. 

The three of us are going to meet now and we will contact each of you this afternoon or tonight to let you know how you did. Once again, a really big thank you to all our prospective Spartan cheerleaders."  

As she finished, applause rang out throughout the hall, and the noise level shot up as people began to gather their stuff and move towards the exits.  

As Jesse and his mom did the same, several girls came up to tell him how well he had done, and some moms congratulated him too, and told his mom how brave and how awesome her son was.    

Jesse was mightly relieved when they finally made it to the parking lot. He just wanted to get home, to escape from all the madness. His mom was positively beaming, delighted with the way everything had gone. She always looked so pretty when she smiled. 

 "Do you know what would be a great idea?" she said, as they settled in the car, he in the back as usual. 

"A trip to McDonald's. And you can even have fries, and all the work. I think you deserve it."  

Desperate as he was to feast on fries again, he didn't want to go to McDonalds or anywhere else, for that matter. He just wanted to go home. But he knew that they would end up in McDonalds no matter what he said because his mom always got her way.  

The journey took barely five minutes and as they entered the restaurant he found himself tugging self-consciously at his little shorts in a futile attempt to stretch them out and make them longer. 

He really didn't want the people there to see him like this. Even worse, his mom held him tightly by the hand, making him feel even smaller.  

Several eyes looked him up and down as they stood waiting to be served. He knew by their puzzled expressions that they were trying to figure out quite who or what he was.  

"Cheering today were you, hun?" the high schooler behind the register asked him after his mom placed their order.  

"Yes," his mom answered for him. "We are just on our way home from tryouts." 

 "And how did you do, sweetie pie?" the girl asked, as she began to set out their order on the counter. "I bet you rocked it."  

"He sure did," his mom replied, proudly. "He's definitely made the team."  

"Wow, that's great. And you look so cute, too. Who will you be cheering for?"  

"Madison Heights," he mumbled, barely lifting his eyes.  

"Oh my god, I go to East High," the girl exclaimed, excitedly. "I'm actually on the team there. So you must know Crystal and Cindy and Tiffany then. I cheer with them." 

"Yeah, they were the judges today," his mom said. "They seem really nice."  "Hey, hunny, what's your name, cos I'd love to talk to you more but I gotta work now?" the girl asked, leaning across the counter to lightly stroke his chin. "I'm Sarah, by the way, and I think you're super cute."  She pointed to her name tag.  

"His name is Jess," his mom answered on his behalf, "and he'd just love it if you helped him with cheer. Wouldn't you, Jess?"  He nodded, silently.  

"Well, here is our number," his mom said, handing Sarah her card. "It was lovely meeting you. Make sure you call us now."  "I sure will," the girl called after them, as his mom took the tray and led him to a table close by. 

He would have preferred a more inconspicuous spot.  He could see the girl continue to look and smile in his direction every chance she got, clearly intrigued by him. She was really sexy, with gorgeous blonde hair. 

It wouldn't be too bad practicing with her, he thought, savoring his fries. He might even enjoy it.  She smiled at him again as they stood up to leave.  "See you soon, Jess. You have a good time, hear."  He smiled at her, weakly.  Great, she thinks my name is Jess, too, he lamented. Soon everyone will be calling me that stupid name.    

When they got home, he couldn't wait to get out of his cheer gear but what his mom instructed him to wear wasn't much of an improvement. He ended up in lime green coffee shorts and a white shirt with matching lime green cap sleeves. He felt like an even bigger dork than before, if that were possible.  He had barely finished changing when his cell rang. He picked it up and saw that it was his friend Brian. He didn't want to talk to Brian right now. 

 "Hello," he answered, tentatively.  "Hey, Jesse," Brian almost shouted at him, sounding even louder than usual. "What were you doing at cheer tryouts? Cassie told me you tried out. She said you were good, too."  

Cassie was Brian's sister and was already a member of the cheer team. She obviously had seen him at tryouts earlier.  Jesse didn't answer but could feel his face begin to burn.  

"What's going on?" Brian continued. "She said you even wore all the cheer shit and stuff, same as the girls."  Jesse hesitated, trying to find his voice, trying to think of something, anything, plausible to explain what had happened.

 He knew there was no way out of admitting the shameful truth.  He sighed.  

"Um, yeah. Mom made me do it but it was, like, just for fun."  

He didn't sound convincing.  

"Yeah, right," Brian shot back. 

"Cassie said you were better than all the girls. You couldn't be that good if it was just for fun. I bet that's what you were doing every morning when you couldn't hang out with us."  

Brian paused but Jesse didn't reply.  

"Hell, Jesse," Brian continued, "only girls cheer, you know that. Have you turned into a freaking fag?"  The accusation wounded Jesse to the core and he just wanted to shut off his cell.  

"I'm no damn fag," he shot back, angrily.  "Well, there's nothing else you can be, Jesse,' Brian responded, coldly. 

"If you go cheering with girls, you're either a fag or a sissy or maybe you are a girl pretending to be a boy."  

Brian was being cruel now, and deliberately so. He was angry that his best friend had embarrassed him like that by going to tryouts in front of so many girls. Hell, people might begin to wonder if he was gay, too.  

"Anyway, Jesse, I gotta go," he said. "Have fun with the other girls."  Jesse threw his phone on the bed, the tears flowing freely now. This day really, really sucked. 

Hopefully, he would fail tryouts; hopefully, he wouldn't actually make the team after all. Hopefully, Brian would then believe him when he said that it was all just a bit of fun.