But she’d made it. The varsity cheerleading squad.
Today would be her first pep rally. In just a few hours, she’d run out onto the gym floor to do her first routine in front of the whole school. Christy’s breath caught as she pictured the packed bleachers, heard the roar, the stomping of feet, the whistles. She saw herself yelling to the crowd, taking her first run for her handspring-roundoff combination-and her final move, a climb to the top of the pyramid, then a somersault through the air into the basketed hands of the bigger base girls. Christy thrilled to the imagined cheers and fist pumps, hugged herself as she savored the moment. Her cell phone rattled on her nightstand. A text from Harley Jenson. They’d been besties since they pulled their nap-time rugs together on the first day of preschool. “The big day! Break a leg-KIDDING. You’ll be awesome! Xo, Harley.” Christy hugged the phone, jumped out of bed, and headed for the shower.
7:42 a.m.
“Honey, don’t stress. You’ll do great-”
Harley Jenson looked up, forced a smile, and sprinkled more brown sugar on his oatmeal, then dropped back into his world history notes.
“Harley, listen to me.” His mother pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “I don’t want you to pressure yourself. If you don’t get the scholarship, we’ll find a way to make it happen, I promise.” She squeezed his arm. “Okay?”
Harley covered his mother’s hand with his own. “Sure, Mom.” He tried to give her a genuine smile. “I just want to give it my best shot, that’s all.”
His mother sighed. “Of course, sweetheart.” She squeezed his hand, then got up and moved to the sink to hide the tears that burned in her eyes. The truth was, she didn’t know that they’d find a way to make it happen. With Andrew laid off, nothing was certain anymore. At least, nothing good. They’d planned a family trip to Greece that summer, knowing it might be their last chance to travel together before Harley went off to college at MIT in the fall. Now those plans were a taunting, bitter memory. Family vacations? A pricey, prestigious school for Harley? That was for rich people with steady incomes. This family would be lucky to keep the house. But she didn’t mourn for herself or her husband. They’d had their chances to shoot for the moon. It was Harley she mourned for. The unfairness of it all made her heart ache. He’d done everything right. Made the grades, done the extracurricular résumé builders-and he’d been duly rewarded with early admission to MIT. But that was back when they’d been paying customers. Now, the only way he’d get in was on a scholarship. And the competition for the few slots that afforded a full ride was breathtaking. Harley never complained, but she knew he was working night and day, seven days a week, to make it happen.