“I got too tall, so I switched to cheerleading,” Quinn says.
I shoot her a pointed glance. “Like a coach told you that you were too tall? That’s B.S.”
She shrugs. “No, but there is a reason most high-level gymnasts are no taller than you two.”
Greta shoots me a grin. “I guess that’s one advantage to being short, huh?”
I give her a wink.
Greta sips her drink then glances at Quinn. “What was it like to switch to cheer?”
“I was lucky,” Quinn says. “We had a really solid coach who was serious about safety, and she didn’t stand for any of the catty bullshit girls like to stir up.”
“That’s good to hear.” Greta sips from her soda, then goes back to petting Kody. “A couple of the guys from the cheer team have been coming around to watch our practice. They keep bugging me to try out.”
“Are you interested?” I ask. Though I was never a cheerleader, I know plenty about it thanks to my family.
Greta shakes her head. “I’m not…I don’t think I’d fit in. I’m not girly, like the cheer girls are.”
I slide the chopped peppers into a bowl. “Sounds like they don’t need girly. They need talent. Can any of them tumble like you can?” Greta has showed me a few clips of her floor routines, so I’ve seen her in action. She’s downright fearless, and strong.
Her eyes light up with a competitive gleam. “No.”
“What’s the harm in trying out?” This feels borderline pushy, but I’m sensing her need for a little encouragement.
“I dunno.” She releases a soft sigh.
Hmm, what’s holding her back? Cost, maybe? Cheer is pricy. The cost of the uniform alone can be prohibitive. Could Lindenbe hard up for cash? Is that why he always fixes everything himself?
“Cheer tryouts are usually in the spring,” Quinn says.
“They’re holding a special one in a few weeks. I guess when the team went to cheer camp, they got their butts kicked, and they’re willing to make a few more spots on the team to fix it.”
“What’s the tryout like?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral while my stomach pinches.
“We have to learn one cheer, one dance, then there’s an optional tumbling pass.”
“Optional?” Quinn asks. “Even though that’s clearly what they’re after?”
Greta pets down Kody’s back and he arches up, purring. “It’s to make it fair, I guess.”
“Sneaky.” Quinn shoots me a questioning glance. “Didn’t your mom coach cheer?”
Damn it, Q. I look past her so I don’t give myself away. “Yeah.”
“You were a cheerleader?” Greta’s look of awe hits me like a lightning strike.
“No,” I manage. I always thought I would be, but then Mom got sick. I could have tried out for Meridian’s team, but without Mom, even the idea of it hurt too much. “I was a lifeguard.”
There’s no logical link connecting the two but whatever.
“I’d be happy to help you, if you want,” I add because that’s the obvious progression to this conversation. And, okay, a part of me is jumping at the chance to help Greta. Linden’s an involved dad but he’d have no clue how to help her get ready for a tryout like this. Finn River High football is a big deal, and I’m betting the cheer team is just as high performing. It was when my mom ran the program, and I doubt that’s changed.
Greta is studying me, like she’s trying to read my thoughts. “I’ll think about it.”
“What does your dad think?” Quinn asks.
Greta shrugs. “It’s not like that.” Kody curls up in her lap.
