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Jul. 9th, 2007 04:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsThink of this as a bribe.
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vaudevilles said my encouragement for her next story should be in the form of more cheerleader fic. Which is something I'd been comment spamming her with. It's more scenes than a story, unbeta'ed because officially I'm not writing this.
The ball's in your court now, honey ;)
The gym is deserted when Justin lets himself in. Empty bleachers and limp flags, homemade wolf-adorned banners attached to the walls. He walks confidently forward, crossing scuffed colourful lines marking multiple courts; his footsteps soft as he sets down an armful of books and lets his bag thump to the floor. Sitting, he props his feet on the first bleacher, arranges his notebook open in his lap -- then waits.
He’s fought so hard for this, taking on the faculty and a sports department that believes that cheerleaders can never be male. Now, after months of protests and his mom threatening discriminatory law, Justin’s been given this chance. A one time deal to assemble his own squad, because there’ll be no mixing of the sexes. Not in this town.
Of course, that means nothing if no one signs up.
An hour and Justin’s finished his math homework, solving problems while ignoring the students pressed against the door. Laughing and jeering, waiting for him to fail.
Two hours and he knows it’s over, is packing his bag when the door suddenly opens with an echoing crash. Jumping, Justin drops his pen, is scrabbling on the floor when someone sits next to him with a cheery, “Sorry I’m late.”
Justin looks up at a beaming smile, watches as the guy rummages in his bag, pulling out a crumpled flyer. One of a hundred that Justin and his mom had made the week before.
“I had to stay back, detention, not that I did anything wrong. Much.” Smile widening even further, the guy smoothes out the paper. “I’m Joey, and I want to join your squad.”
Justin wants to cartwheel across the floor. Instead he grins wide as he pulls out forms and a notebook from his bag. “I’m Justin, but I guess you know that already. I’m also the only other person on the squad, so, if you want to back out….”
Justin doesn’t want Joey to back out, not at all, but he has to give him that chance. Even if he feels sick as Joey says nothing, thinking, as Justin’s smile fades away.
”I’ll stay,” Joey says, and he leans back, relaxed and confident, obviously uncaring they’re a squad of two. “Anyway, JC said he was coming, so that’s three.”
Justin can’t visualise a JC, but that’s not surprising. Their school is big and Justin doesn’t know everyone, despite how hard he tries.
“Is…”
The doors open and Justin stops speaking as two people walk in. Justin recognises Jason from English period one, so the other has to be JC. Skinny with baggy pants and a bag that seems to be made partially of red fur.
“Hey, C.” Joey’s jumping from his bleacher. He lands in front of JC, greeting him with a slap of hands and Justin’s pulling out more forms, smiling hard all the while.
They’re sitting filling in forms when the door slams open, making Justin jump, his pen scratching across the page.
“Fuck them. Fuck them with a rusty pole.”
Justin puts down his form, standing as the newcomer hurries close.
“Can you believe they cut me because they said I’m too small? Fuck that.”
He glares as if daring anyone to disagree. Justin says nothing, just waits as the guy paces, his cheeks flushed and hands clenched. Finally he squeaks to a halt, holding out his hand.
“I’m getting on that field somehow, so, sign me up.” He holds out a hand, waiting, and takes a deep breath when Justin hands over a form. “Thanks. I’m Chris by the way.”
“Hey.” Justin nods his own greeting, all the while wanting to dance around the gym. They may be mismatched, but they’re his, a squad at last.
~*~*~*~*~
The first time they practice is a disaster. They’re on the field next to the science building and Justin has to ignore the sniggers as JC cartwheels into a trash can and Jason spends most of his time going right when the rest go left. Legs are kicked and feet stomped and the pyramid is a non-starter when Joey preens and JC gets distracted and Chris scowls at the football team playing close-by.
At least he’s got a team, and Justin tries to remember that when he’s sitting in the bleachers, chugging water and watching the girl cheerleaders perform.
He doesn’t stay long. It’s too depressing seeing how far they’ve got to go.
~*~*~*~*~
The insulting messages shoved into Justin’s locker are down to five a day. Always on torn lined notepaper, and if pressed he’d admit he’s impressed with some of the insults, who knew there were as many ways to describe him as gay?
Crumpling the latest, he throws it across the hall, a perfect arching drop into the trash. Fisting the air in celebration, he turns back to his open locker and pulls out his gym bag, throwing it over his shoulder as he slams shut the door.
Justin hurries toward the locker rooms. They only get an hours practice a day, and they need every minute. Valuable time for learning cheers and dancing in sync, simple things that remain out of their reach. Not that he’s giving up, Justin’s worked too hard to get this far, and he knows the ability is there, hidden under a layer of klutz.
“Justin, hey!” Chris says. He’s sitting on the bench between the lockers, curled forward and tying his sneakers, his t-shirt pulled up at the back, exposing the sharp bumps of his spine. “I’ll need to cut out early today, there’s a delivery at the farm and I need to help.”
“Can’t someone else do it?” Justin drops his bag and sits, concentrating on pulling out his training kit, sniffing socks so he doesn’t have to see Chris stare up at him.
“They could, but it means no money for me. So” A last pull of his laces, and Chris stands, talking over his shoulder as he leaves the room. “I’ll be leaving at ten to.”
There’s nothing Justin can say. He’s treading on egg shells around the squad, scared of scaring any of them away. Instead he bites his lip, concentrating on getting changed.
“We’ve still got time to practice the cheer.”
JC’s sitting at the edge of the bench, already fully changed. He’s holding a notebook, and there’s a pencil tucked behind his ear -- silver, its end a chewed mess.
“I wrote something.” JC opens the notebook and slides close, holding the page open with one finger. “A cheer.”
Justin frowns when JC says no more. “Well, are you going to show me?”
“I guess, but it’s better out loud.” There’s a flush of colour across JC’s cheeks, and he’s looking down at his notebook, running his thumb over the page.
“I’m listening.”
JC grins and jumps to his feet. Feet apart and arms in the air, he cheers. “Go Wolves! Go Wolves! Show them what we’ve got! Go Wolves! Go Wolves! Show we win a lot!”
Justin watches as JC jumps in the air, making the pencil fall to the floor and roll away. It’s going to be a long year.
~*~*~*~
“You need to listen to me,” Justin says, resisting the urge to slam heads together, because god, they’re not listening at all. If it’s not Joey flirting or Jason making cow-eyes at his girlfriend, it’s Chris clowning around until the field is full of the sound of JC’s dorky laughter.
It’s like herding cats and Justin feels sick because he wants this so badly, and he’s watching as it goes wrong. He knows they can dance, he knows they can cheer, but it seems they’re incapable of doing it together, and for the first time ever, something Justin wants is in danger of slipping away.
He hates that feeling.
Taking a deep breath, he looks at his squad -- his disorganised, undisciplined, messy squad – but still, they’re his. He’s not going to give in that easily.
“I want you to listen. Now!” Justin yells. Making instant decisions, he walks forward and grabs for Joey’s arm. Holding on, Justin tugs him to the other end of the line, away from the crowd of juniors watching from the bleachers. More arranging and Chris is next, then Jason and JC.
Surveying the line, Justin nods, satisfied that for now, they’re all looking his way. Now all he has to do is make them listen. Looking along the line, Justin forces eye contact with each one, the sound of birds chirping, distant chatter, the thud of pads against bodies white noise as he thinks what to say.
“You all joined the squad for different reasons, but you did join. And you know, this might be a joke to you, but it’s not for me. I believe in this squad, I know we can be great, but I can’t do that alone.” Justin’s hands are clenched hard against his sides as he lowers his voice, allowing some of the defeat to slip through. “If you’re not willing to put in that effort, you should go.”
Turning, Justin kneels, needlessly looking through his file of cheers. Slowly turning the pages, he selects a cheer, reads through the familiar words twice before finally turning back.
They’re still there.
~*~*~*~
It’s been almost three weeks and they’ve got some of the steps down. Handsprings and star jumps, easy stuff that’s restricted to the ground.
Sitting cross-legged, the grass prickling against his bare legs, Justin’s file is on his lap and he nibbles at the edge of his pen, watching as Joey hauls JC over his shoulder. Legs kicking, JC laughs as Joey spins, egged on by Chris and Jason who count each turn.
It’s inevitable they’ll fall, and after staggering in an ever widening circle, Joey collapses to the ground, JC sprawled to his side. They’re both laughing, hands held up as Chris throws grass and Jason scoops up his water bottle. He presses it hard so water streams toward Joey who opens his mouth wide, trying to drink as water spills down his face and his eyes narrow into a grin.
The smile is infectious, and Justin feels himself beaming in return, because despite the problems, this is his team, and he knows they’re going to be great.
Quickly making a decision, he jumps to his feet and brushes at his spanky-pants, making sure they’re clean. “Guys, listen up.” Justin bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting until they’re looking his way. “I think it’s time we mixed things up, took them to the next level.”
Jason drops his waterbottle and looks at Justin. “Meaning?”
“Meaning it’s time to do more tricks. I thought we’d start with a basic extension and go from there.” Justin’s convinced this will work. He’s been studying cheering for years and now their team is cohesive they’ve the parts to create a more complex routine. “Chris, you’re the flier, Joey, Jason, you’re the base. JC, you’re the spotter.”
“I’m what?” JC says, his confusion mirrored by the other three.
Justin runs his hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath. “You stand behind and watch for problems, and catch Chris if he falls. Joey, Jason. You’ll hold Chris’ feet and lift him in the air.”
“Wait.” Chris holds up a hand and looks toward Joey and Jason. “They’re going to be lifting me?”
“It’s safe,” Justin says, and he opens his file to the picture of a cheerleader held in the air, her feet held by her bases. “You’ll only be a few meters high.”
“Right,” Chris says slowly. “Why don’t you get up there then?”
Justin shuts his file with a last look at the picture. “Because you’re the lightest.”
“Yeah, Chris. Stop being a pussy and come here,” Joey says, grinning as he moves next to Jason, and kneels. “Come step on me.”
For a moment Justin thinks Chris is going to refuse, then he looks at the practicing football team and his shoulders straighten, his chin held high.
“Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”
There’s a tense moment when Chris first steps onto Joey and Jason’s shoulders. He wobbles, hands whirling through the air, but Justin grabs on, holding Chris steady.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Justin says, and Chris’ palm feels dry, his fingers rough. “JC, get behind us, Joey, Jason. You can stand, slowly.”
They do, and Justin stretches up, Chris’ fingers tight around his own. When they’re finally upright, Chris looks down, and his hair flops forward before he brushes at it impatiently.
“You did it,” voice little more than a whisper, Justin takes a step back, and Chris uncurls his hand. He sways slightly, then finds his balance as he stretches out his arms, looking triumphant.
Immediately Justin flows into hand flips, needing to express his elation. The pyramid is basic, but Chris did it. The team did it.
They’re elated for all of a minute.
There’s no warning shout, just a thud then Chris is falling to the ground. He lands in a heap, his hand clamped over his mouth as a football rolls next to JC’s feet.
“Chris!” Falling to his knees, Justin tries to see Chris’ face, but he won’t move his hand, and blood drips from between his fingers.
“That’s our ball.”
Justin looks up at the unfamiliar voice, furious when he sees a player from the team. He’s holding his helmet in one hand, and doesn’t look repentant at all.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A last pat of Chris’ shoulder, and Justin stands, blocking the player from getting his ball. “You don’t even kick this way.”
“Like you know how to play.”
Justin’s used to protecting himself, but there’s a time and place, and that’s not today. Not when the rest of the football team have arranged themselves at the edge of the field, and JC is helping Chris to his feet, alternately swearing and uttering soothing words as he leads him away.
Justin stands over blood-stained grass, listening to the laughter, his hands clenched into fists as he vows revenge.
~*~*~*~
vaudevilles said my encouragement for her next story should be in the form of more cheerleader fic. Which is something I'd been comment spamming her with. It's more scenes than a story, unbeta'ed because officially I'm not writing this.The ball's in your court now, honey ;)
The gym is deserted when Justin lets himself in. Empty bleachers and limp flags, homemade wolf-adorned banners attached to the walls. He walks confidently forward, crossing scuffed colourful lines marking multiple courts; his footsteps soft as he sets down an armful of books and lets his bag thump to the floor. Sitting, he props his feet on the first bleacher, arranges his notebook open in his lap -- then waits.
He’s fought so hard for this, taking on the faculty and a sports department that believes that cheerleaders can never be male. Now, after months of protests and his mom threatening discriminatory law, Justin’s been given this chance. A one time deal to assemble his own squad, because there’ll be no mixing of the sexes. Not in this town.
Of course, that means nothing if no one signs up.
An hour and Justin’s finished his math homework, solving problems while ignoring the students pressed against the door. Laughing and jeering, waiting for him to fail.
Two hours and he knows it’s over, is packing his bag when the door suddenly opens with an echoing crash. Jumping, Justin drops his pen, is scrabbling on the floor when someone sits next to him with a cheery, “Sorry I’m late.”
Justin looks up at a beaming smile, watches as the guy rummages in his bag, pulling out a crumpled flyer. One of a hundred that Justin and his mom had made the week before.
“I had to stay back, detention, not that I did anything wrong. Much.” Smile widening even further, the guy smoothes out the paper. “I’m Joey, and I want to join your squad.”
Justin wants to cartwheel across the floor. Instead he grins wide as he pulls out forms and a notebook from his bag. “I’m Justin, but I guess you know that already. I’m also the only other person on the squad, so, if you want to back out….”
Justin doesn’t want Joey to back out, not at all, but he has to give him that chance. Even if he feels sick as Joey says nothing, thinking, as Justin’s smile fades away.
”I’ll stay,” Joey says, and he leans back, relaxed and confident, obviously uncaring they’re a squad of two. “Anyway, JC said he was coming, so that’s three.”
Justin can’t visualise a JC, but that’s not surprising. Their school is big and Justin doesn’t know everyone, despite how hard he tries.
“Is…”
The doors open and Justin stops speaking as two people walk in. Justin recognises Jason from English period one, so the other has to be JC. Skinny with baggy pants and a bag that seems to be made partially of red fur.
“Hey, C.” Joey’s jumping from his bleacher. He lands in front of JC, greeting him with a slap of hands and Justin’s pulling out more forms, smiling hard all the while.
They’re sitting filling in forms when the door slams open, making Justin jump, his pen scratching across the page.
“Fuck them. Fuck them with a rusty pole.”
Justin puts down his form, standing as the newcomer hurries close.
“Can you believe they cut me because they said I’m too small? Fuck that.”
He glares as if daring anyone to disagree. Justin says nothing, just waits as the guy paces, his cheeks flushed and hands clenched. Finally he squeaks to a halt, holding out his hand.
“I’m getting on that field somehow, so, sign me up.” He holds out a hand, waiting, and takes a deep breath when Justin hands over a form. “Thanks. I’m Chris by the way.”
“Hey.” Justin nods his own greeting, all the while wanting to dance around the gym. They may be mismatched, but they’re his, a squad at last.
~*~*~*~*~
The first time they practice is a disaster. They’re on the field next to the science building and Justin has to ignore the sniggers as JC cartwheels into a trash can and Jason spends most of his time going right when the rest go left. Legs are kicked and feet stomped and the pyramid is a non-starter when Joey preens and JC gets distracted and Chris scowls at the football team playing close-by.
At least he’s got a team, and Justin tries to remember that when he’s sitting in the bleachers, chugging water and watching the girl cheerleaders perform.
He doesn’t stay long. It’s too depressing seeing how far they’ve got to go.
~*~*~*~*~
The insulting messages shoved into Justin’s locker are down to five a day. Always on torn lined notepaper, and if pressed he’d admit he’s impressed with some of the insults, who knew there were as many ways to describe him as gay?
Crumpling the latest, he throws it across the hall, a perfect arching drop into the trash. Fisting the air in celebration, he turns back to his open locker and pulls out his gym bag, throwing it over his shoulder as he slams shut the door.
Justin hurries toward the locker rooms. They only get an hours practice a day, and they need every minute. Valuable time for learning cheers and dancing in sync, simple things that remain out of their reach. Not that he’s giving up, Justin’s worked too hard to get this far, and he knows the ability is there, hidden under a layer of klutz.
“Justin, hey!” Chris says. He’s sitting on the bench between the lockers, curled forward and tying his sneakers, his t-shirt pulled up at the back, exposing the sharp bumps of his spine. “I’ll need to cut out early today, there’s a delivery at the farm and I need to help.”
“Can’t someone else do it?” Justin drops his bag and sits, concentrating on pulling out his training kit, sniffing socks so he doesn’t have to see Chris stare up at him.
“They could, but it means no money for me. So” A last pull of his laces, and Chris stands, talking over his shoulder as he leaves the room. “I’ll be leaving at ten to.”
There’s nothing Justin can say. He’s treading on egg shells around the squad, scared of scaring any of them away. Instead he bites his lip, concentrating on getting changed.
“We’ve still got time to practice the cheer.”
JC’s sitting at the edge of the bench, already fully changed. He’s holding a notebook, and there’s a pencil tucked behind his ear -- silver, its end a chewed mess.
“I wrote something.” JC opens the notebook and slides close, holding the page open with one finger. “A cheer.”
Justin frowns when JC says no more. “Well, are you going to show me?”
“I guess, but it’s better out loud.” There’s a flush of colour across JC’s cheeks, and he’s looking down at his notebook, running his thumb over the page.
“I’m listening.”
JC grins and jumps to his feet. Feet apart and arms in the air, he cheers. “Go Wolves! Go Wolves! Show them what we’ve got! Go Wolves! Go Wolves! Show we win a lot!”
Justin watches as JC jumps in the air, making the pencil fall to the floor and roll away. It’s going to be a long year.
~*~*~*~
“You need to listen to me,” Justin says, resisting the urge to slam heads together, because god, they’re not listening at all. If it’s not Joey flirting or Jason making cow-eyes at his girlfriend, it’s Chris clowning around until the field is full of the sound of JC’s dorky laughter.
It’s like herding cats and Justin feels sick because he wants this so badly, and he’s watching as it goes wrong. He knows they can dance, he knows they can cheer, but it seems they’re incapable of doing it together, and for the first time ever, something Justin wants is in danger of slipping away.
He hates that feeling.
Taking a deep breath, he looks at his squad -- his disorganised, undisciplined, messy squad – but still, they’re his. He’s not going to give in that easily.
“I want you to listen. Now!” Justin yells. Making instant decisions, he walks forward and grabs for Joey’s arm. Holding on, Justin tugs him to the other end of the line, away from the crowd of juniors watching from the bleachers. More arranging and Chris is next, then Jason and JC.
Surveying the line, Justin nods, satisfied that for now, they’re all looking his way. Now all he has to do is make them listen. Looking along the line, Justin forces eye contact with each one, the sound of birds chirping, distant chatter, the thud of pads against bodies white noise as he thinks what to say.
“You all joined the squad for different reasons, but you did join. And you know, this might be a joke to you, but it’s not for me. I believe in this squad, I know we can be great, but I can’t do that alone.” Justin’s hands are clenched hard against his sides as he lowers his voice, allowing some of the defeat to slip through. “If you’re not willing to put in that effort, you should go.”
Turning, Justin kneels, needlessly looking through his file of cheers. Slowly turning the pages, he selects a cheer, reads through the familiar words twice before finally turning back.
They’re still there.
~*~*~*~
It’s been almost three weeks and they’ve got some of the steps down. Handsprings and star jumps, easy stuff that’s restricted to the ground.
Sitting cross-legged, the grass prickling against his bare legs, Justin’s file is on his lap and he nibbles at the edge of his pen, watching as Joey hauls JC over his shoulder. Legs kicking, JC laughs as Joey spins, egged on by Chris and Jason who count each turn.
It’s inevitable they’ll fall, and after staggering in an ever widening circle, Joey collapses to the ground, JC sprawled to his side. They’re both laughing, hands held up as Chris throws grass and Jason scoops up his water bottle. He presses it hard so water streams toward Joey who opens his mouth wide, trying to drink as water spills down his face and his eyes narrow into a grin.
The smile is infectious, and Justin feels himself beaming in return, because despite the problems, this is his team, and he knows they’re going to be great.
Quickly making a decision, he jumps to his feet and brushes at his spanky-pants, making sure they’re clean. “Guys, listen up.” Justin bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting until they’re looking his way. “I think it’s time we mixed things up, took them to the next level.”
Jason drops his waterbottle and looks at Justin. “Meaning?”
“Meaning it’s time to do more tricks. I thought we’d start with a basic extension and go from there.” Justin’s convinced this will work. He’s been studying cheering for years and now their team is cohesive they’ve the parts to create a more complex routine. “Chris, you’re the flier, Joey, Jason, you’re the base. JC, you’re the spotter.”
“I’m what?” JC says, his confusion mirrored by the other three.
Justin runs his hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath. “You stand behind and watch for problems, and catch Chris if he falls. Joey, Jason. You’ll hold Chris’ feet and lift him in the air.”
“Wait.” Chris holds up a hand and looks toward Joey and Jason. “They’re going to be lifting me?”
“It’s safe,” Justin says, and he opens his file to the picture of a cheerleader held in the air, her feet held by her bases. “You’ll only be a few meters high.”
“Right,” Chris says slowly. “Why don’t you get up there then?”
Justin shuts his file with a last look at the picture. “Because you’re the lightest.”
“Yeah, Chris. Stop being a pussy and come here,” Joey says, grinning as he moves next to Jason, and kneels. “Come step on me.”
For a moment Justin thinks Chris is going to refuse, then he looks at the practicing football team and his shoulders straighten, his chin held high.
“Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”
There’s a tense moment when Chris first steps onto Joey and Jason’s shoulders. He wobbles, hands whirling through the air, but Justin grabs on, holding Chris steady.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Justin says, and Chris’ palm feels dry, his fingers rough. “JC, get behind us, Joey, Jason. You can stand, slowly.”
They do, and Justin stretches up, Chris’ fingers tight around his own. When they’re finally upright, Chris looks down, and his hair flops forward before he brushes at it impatiently.
“You did it,” voice little more than a whisper, Justin takes a step back, and Chris uncurls his hand. He sways slightly, then finds his balance as he stretches out his arms, looking triumphant.
Immediately Justin flows into hand flips, needing to express his elation. The pyramid is basic, but Chris did it. The team did it.
They’re elated for all of a minute.
There’s no warning shout, just a thud then Chris is falling to the ground. He lands in a heap, his hand clamped over his mouth as a football rolls next to JC’s feet.
“Chris!” Falling to his knees, Justin tries to see Chris’ face, but he won’t move his hand, and blood drips from between his fingers.
“That’s our ball.”
Justin looks up at the unfamiliar voice, furious when he sees a player from the team. He’s holding his helmet in one hand, and doesn’t look repentant at all.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” A last pat of Chris’ shoulder, and Justin stands, blocking the player from getting his ball. “You don’t even kick this way.”
“Like you know how to play.”
Justin’s used to protecting himself, but there’s a time and place, and that’s not today. Not when the rest of the football team have arranged themselves at the edge of the field, and JC is helping Chris to his feet, alternately swearing and uttering soothing words as he leads him away.
Justin stands over blood-stained grass, listening to the laughter, his hands clenched into fists as he vows revenge.
~*~*~*~
