{"id":3133,"date":"2015-03-20T07:57:46","date_gmt":"2015-03-20T14:57:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/?p=3133"},"modified":"2015-03-20T08:25:23","modified_gmt":"2015-03-20T15:25:23","slug":"coveting-cheerleader-cool","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annleemiller.com\/2015\/03\/coveting-cheerleader-cool\/","title":{"rendered":"Coveting Cheerleader “Cool”"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

\u00a9 Matthias33 | Dreamstime Stock Photos<\/p><\/div>\n

I angled up on my elbows from my beach towel, slack-jawed like Susan Sigler and Jackie Herold as we watched a jumble of high school jocks gamble through the surf. Their guffaws and your mamas<\/em> grazed the sand toward us.<\/p>\n

We knew their names\u2014had sat in Algebra or Biology or American Lit across the aisle from them. They probably knew ours. But, intent on shoving and tripping each other, slam-dunking insults, they didn\u2019t notice us. And we didn\u2019t have the chutzpa to call out to them.<\/p>\n

My swim team buddy, Diane Schneider, rose out of the surf behind the boys, a bedraggled mermaid, oblivious to the wave of testosterone that had just sloshed by.<\/p>\n

I patted the sunbaked half of my towel for Diane to sit on while the chatter of greetings swelled around me. My gaze followed the boys. If we were cool girls, the guys\u2019 radar would have guided them straight into our personal space.<\/p>\n

\"lovemytoessucked13<\/a>

lovemytoessucked13<\/a> via Compfight<\/a> cc<\/a><\/p><\/div>\n

The path to popularity could be paved by sleeping with those boys, according to my stepfather. Ralph meant well, but he sure would have made a lousy Catholic. No doubt, the jocks had a better understanding of first, second, third base and home than I did. I wanted to keep it that way. There had to be another way to capture cool that didn\u2019t involve mortal sin.<\/p>\n

A red Mustang convertible rolled between us and the water and we watched coaches Rick Webb and G.P. Doan drive by.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere goes cool,\u201d Jackie observed.<\/p>\n

I scrunched my nose. \u201cThey\u2019re ancient. They must be like twenty-five. Eww.\u201d<\/p>\n

Webb, brown as a Boston baked bean, and his cadre of young, hip, handsome single male teachers were almost iconic\u2014fraternizing up and down the Florida coast. At school, I swore I could smell the coconut scent of Hawaiian Tropic wafting from their skin when I passed them in the hall.<\/p>\n

I played high and mighty that day, but a year later I felt flattered when one member of the fraternity said he wanted to become friends after graduation and another invited me to go home with him. I turned them down. Maybe they weren\u2019t too old, but I was way too young.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/a>

The ‘window of cool’
Photo by pippalou<\/p><\/div>\n

I watched the coaches\u2019 tail lights warm as they slowed to talk to the boys. Maybe I wasn\u2019t the only one with my nose smashed up against the window of cool<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going out for cheerleading,\u201d I thought aloud. Cheerleading keyed a girl into cool. Anybody knew that.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Jackie and Susan said at the same time.<\/p>\n

I shrugged. \u201cTryouts are open. It doesn\u2019t matter if you\u2019re going to be a senior.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jackie, never speechless for long, blurted. \u201cBut you don\u2019t know how to cheer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should all try out. We\u2019re loud, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Susan, still stymied, shook her head. \u201cYou\u2019re crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n

I elbowed Diane. \u201cLet\u2019s do it.\u201d I hoped my voice sounded more positive than pleading.<\/p>\n

Diane, a recent transplant to New Smyrna Beach like I was, had already joined the volleyball, basketball, gymnastic, and swim teams and a smattering of clubs. She wrung the sea water out of her hair. \u201cSure, why not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m serious.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smirked at Jackie and Susan.<\/p>\n

Terror and hope twisted inside. Did I really have the guts to go through with it?<\/p>\n

How hard could it be?<\/p>\n

\"NSBHS<\/a>

NSBHS ’75-’76 Cheerleaders: (Back) Vicky Jones, Norma Jones, Gretchen Johnson, Sue Shelton, Debbie Schillinger (Middle) Roberta Richards, Marie Lamana, Suzy McMillan, Lisa Denauro (Front) Debbie Wilkins<\/p><\/div>\n

Very, it turned out.<\/p>\n

The next Saturday, Diane and I stood in my front yard, memorizing chants, jumps, and hand motions\u2014the two most spastic people on the planet. Every time someone passed, I paused, not wanting to be pegged stupid.<\/p>\n

We practiced after school every day that week, plugging past pathetic.<\/p>\n

The day of tryouts, we filed into the New Smyrna Beach High School gym\u2014with ninety-eight wannabes. I sweated cross-legged on the shiny wood floor watching each audition. The girls with cheer experience channeled confidence\u2014something Diane and I couldn\u2019t corral if we kept practicing for another month.<\/p>\n

I was up next. I wanted to slam out the gym doors, but I didn\u2019t relish the sound of my pride crashing and dying on the court behind me. Instead, I stood, faced the judges, and bounced on the balls of my feet. \u201cReady, o-kay!\u201d Those two words slurped up all my bravado. Bereft, I bumbled through the rest of the cheer and barreled into balmy Florida afternoon.<\/p>\n

When the results were scotch-taped to a breezeway post, Diane and I hung back. We waited for the gaggle of girls angling for a glance at the paper to go away. Finally, we ran our eyes down the list.<\/p>\n

No Ann Fetterman.<\/p>\n

No Diane Schneider.<\/p>\n

No surprise.<\/p>\n

That should have dampened our school spirit. But Diane and I and our motley crew of minimally talented loud mouths proved irrepressible. The next year we dreamed up RSLC, Rose Scrivano\u2019s Loud Crowd. We drafted Rose\u2014the cheeriest of the lunch ladies and my prom date\u2019s mother\u2014as sponsor, bought matching short-sleeved red sweatshirts somebody found on sale at K-Mart, and persuaded Jeannine Marek and her mother to sew on black and white felt letters.<\/p>\n

\"Rose<\/a>

Rose Scrivano’s Loud Crowd: (back) Sue Ellen “Bat” Henderson, Jackie Herold,Diane Schneider, Jill Musson, Rhonda Reichel (middle) Wendy Phillips, Terri Nevins, Ann Fetterman (me), Susan Sigler, Jeannine Marek (front) Rose Scrivano, Diana Knox<\/p><\/div>\n

The first football game of our senior year, we clumped together, a raucous splotch of red staining the stands. Our goal? To out-shout the cheerleaders.<\/p>\n

Susan, who actually knew what a first down was, shouted at the cheerleaders, \u201cFirst and ten. Do it again!\u201d<\/p>\n

Down on the field, Vicky Jones cupped her ear.<\/p>\n

All of us joined Susan and yelled her cheer suggestion again.<\/p>\n

Gretchen Johnson glanced over her shoulder to make sure we still had the ball, then launched the cheerleaders into, \u201cFirst and ten, do it again. Come on Cudas, let\u2019s win!\u201d<\/p>\n

During the second half, the Baracudas shutting out Eau Gallie, Sue Shelton started the girls into, \u201cTwo, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate?\u201d<\/p>\n

Eau Gallie intercepted a pass, and RSLC belted, \u201cPush back, way back!\u201d The rest of the fans joined us and the cheerleaders, one by one, caved to our cheer.<\/p>\n

\"Rhonda<\/a>

Rhonda Reichel, Susan Sigler, and I in RSLC shirts in center<\/p><\/div>\n

Gleefully obnoxious for the rest of the \u201875-\u201876 season, we screamed our team to a three-way tie in the Orangebelt Conference\u2014losing only one game to Rockledge 7-8. The last game of the year we edged out our arch rivals,<\/p>\n

\"My<\/a>

My RSLC award<\/p><\/div>\n

Titusville Astronaut 22-21, hiccoughing Astronaut quarterback Chris Collinsworth\u2019s charge toward the Cincinnati Bengals.<\/p>\n

We like to think our mouths made a difference.<\/p>\n

We showed up at every basketball game, and even a couple of track meets.<\/p>\n

Thanks to Susan, RSLC co-captain and an editor of the Smyrnan, we even snuck into the yearbook.<\/p>\n

After the spring sports banquet when I failed to bag \u201cMost Valuable\u201d on the swim team, RSLC proclaimed me \u201cMost Athletic\u201d and presented me with a construction paper ribbon embellished with glitter I saved for posterity.<\/p>\n

Decades later, Jackie\u2014along with Stuart friends Amy Kuhns and Carolyn Rathkopf\u2014said they always saw me as a cool girl. I wish they\u2019d told me\u2014and spared me the humiliation of cheer tryouts.<\/p>\n

In my fifties I don\u2019t think about cool, though on occasion, my daughter calls me a cool mom. My sons like me too\u2014one of them is building a house next door. My husband tells me I\u2019m all that\u2014every day. I finally caught cool.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t
What did you do to corner a little cool? Leave a comment below.<\/div><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Related Posts from New Smyrna Beach<\/h3>\n

 <\/p>\n

Friendless on the First Day of School<\/a><\/p>\n

Beached, Brokendown, and Blessed in New Smyrna<\/a><\/p>\n

Spoons, Nudes, and Tuna Casserole<\/a><\/p>\n

Too Much and Not Enough Testosterone for the Christmas Parade<\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Photo by Sgarton<\/p><\/div>\n

A Couple of Kids Cobble Together Christmas<\/a><\/p>\n

Dodging the Day After Christmas Blues<\/a><\/p>\n

Swimming Into Forever<\/a><\/p>\n

Song For an Innocent Time<\/a><\/p>\n

Hippie In the Headlights<\/a><\/p>\n

Car Crash and Other Wrecks<\/a><\/p>\n

Five Minutes of Fame<\/a><\/p>\n

Nailing Normal<\/a><\/p>\n

Waiting for the Real Deal<\/a><\/p>\n

Breaching Bright Air<\/a><\/p>\n

Speed, the S.A.T.s, and Being Smart Enough<\/a><\/p>\n

Not Kissing and Telling<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Check out my New Smyrna Beach novels by clicking on the covers.<\/p>\n

\"Avra's<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \"Tattered<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \"Kicking<\/a> \u00a0\u00a0 \"The<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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