Back in seventh grade, I remembered the seniors chatting on the sidelines. Just the team water boy on Friday nights at East High then, I never fully grasped the idea of “screwing” the cheerleaders, which was always a main topic of conversation.
Even when I became part the team myself, I still believed that this was only a dream that most high schoolers had and continued that belief well into my senior year.
The team was having a dismal season. At two and seven going into our final game versus West High, we had no chance of even being considered a respectable team.
Practice that week was not even interesting, as our coaches only went over plays and dismissed us early all week. On Tuesday afternoon, I stayed after practice to get a short lift in. Tom, the team quarterback and captain, was lifting with me. I just finished a set of squats, when the cheerleading captain, Emily, strolled into the weight room.
Emily stood 5’5” and had long flowing blond hair with small breasts; however, most of the guys wanted a piece of her for her perfectly shaped ass.
I racked my weight and turned to Tom, “Dude, how would you like to hit that?”
“She’s blazin’,” replied Tom, “but I think we might be able to ‘hit that’.”
I didn’t get to reply because Emily strolled right next to Tom and wrapped her arm around his waist. Tom just stared at the cheer captain.
“Seven,” whispered Emily as she pulled her arm away and walked out of the door just as quickly as she had walked in.
“What was that all about?” I inquired.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”
“Well, actually dude, remember when the seniors were talking about getting with the cheerleaders last year and we didn’t believe it?”
“Yeah, that was bullshit.”
“Bullshit? No, it’s real, and seven of us are going to be screwing cheerleaders on Friday night.”
“Seriously?”
“As long as you keep it up,” said Tom as he looked towards my crotch.
Tom walked out of the weight room. I stayed and lifted awhile longer.
By Thursday it had been decided. The four captains, Tom, Greg, Ed and Buck, would go with the girls along with Jared, Evan and I. The seven of us were about to experience every high schoolers dream.
Needless to say, I was a bit skeptical, but Tom kept feeding us with details that held the illusion that this would actually happen.
At lunch on Friday, the seven of us sat together. Tom filled us in, telling us that the pool locker rooms were also the same ones that the other sports teams used. Therefore we could easily leave through the pool entrance and get to the rear entrance of the girls locker room via the pool deck.
After classes, Tom told us that the cheerleaders would be waiting for us twenty minutes after the game.
With every new thing Tom added, this seemed less and less like a fantasy and more and more like a certainty that had the cheerleaders backing. At thee end of school that day, I was sure that I would be enjoying the company of the cheerleaders later that night.
The entire team played poorly against West High. It was actually a benefit for the seven of us, taking some of the attention off our own poor performances and making it harder for only us singled out as not playing well.
West High beat us handily and Coach Strong, upset by the horrid season, didn’t even deliver a post game speech. He only ordered us out of his sight and into the locker room, pulling us ever closer to the moment of truth.
I took my time undressing, knowing that we weren’t going anywhere until the coaches were all gone.
“Hey, Buck,” I said, attempting to make some chatter to fill up time, “Make sure the guys know that we need to use the pool deck to get over to the girls locker room.”
