Chapter 11 - I'll Be a Home for You

i’ll be the last person to ever promote the supernatural, but the floodlights of this football field have to be investigated for their sorcery

Aang

My first home game experience from the field is far worse than it was from the stands. From the bleachers, I didn’t understand the sheer scale of everything. But now, the floodlights are too bright and the drums too loud. The seats cover only the two sides of the field, but it feels like people are enveloping me from everywhere, shouting impatiently and waiting for the kickoff.

It doesn’t help that this is that one evening in September when it gets hot and humid for no reason, and my polyester uniform isn’t conducive to perspiration. Stanford better appreciate what I’m putting myself through here.

“Go, Aang, go!” Remy’s in the first row, holding a sign with words on it decorated in red glitter.

I walk up to him slowly. He’s been ignoring me since lunch, and the fact that he’s acting normal now is highly concerning. “Hello … is the sign necessary?” It spells out my name as Adolescent, Approachable, Not-Stupid, Graceful. 

“You cheerlead for the team, I cheerlead for you.” He checks out my uniform: dark-red trousers and a long-sleeved top of the same color with the school’s initials, BHS, in black and white. “You look very handsome.”

I lose my patience. “Why are you acting like nothing happened during lunch?”

“I’m sorry?” Remy lowers the sign. “I thought we repress our emotions and avoid discussing important events in our lives. Was I mistaken?”

I throw my hands up.

“You should have told me what happened,” he says. “I would have ordered you to apologize and move on.”

I must be having a stroke, because there’s no way that’s what I just heard. “Whose side are you on?”

“No one’s! Because both of you were complete assholes, so it evens out!” He raises the sign. “Now, go lead our team to victory and be friends with JJ again!”

“Oh my god.” I spin on my heel and walk away.

I don’t want to be friends with JJ. It doesn’t make sense to be friends with JJ. It didn’t make sense when she walked up to me during the first math class of freshman year, and it makes even less sense now.

I’m not her type, after all.

Movement near the sidelines captures my attention. JJ’s waving her pom-poms around, her uniform the same as mine except with a skirt and a shiny red bow. I stop in my tracks. She’s talking to Brad. A cheerleader and a quarterback, what a perfect American couple.

The fact that she must love that is one of the many reasons why me being friends with her doesn’t make any sense.

Brad spots me staring before I can divert my gaze. He says something to JJ, who hides her face in the pom-poms and shakes her head furiously. Is she denying knowing me? That would be on-brand for her. Brad waves at someone behind me. I sneak a look. There’s no one there. He shrugs and walks in my direction.

Sweat runs down my spine.

He was waving at me.

Is he going to beat me up for staring at his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend? Again-girlfriend? JJ trails behind him, her pom-poms by her sides like they’re trying to drag her down. If only she showed this lack of enthusiasm in the counselor’s office. We wouldn’t have this problem on our hands.

Brad stops in front of me and raises a hand. I flinch.

“Hey! It’s Aang, right?” He tries to high-five me, but my arms don’t move. He chuckles and taps me on the shoulder instead.

“Hello?”

“I’m Brad. I’m on the football team. Just wanted to say hi to the first guy cheerleader.”

So that’s why he came over. I brace for the incoming gay joke.

“It’s just so cool, man! Cheerleading is a great sport. You’re gonna have so much fun!”

What?

“You’re JJ’s backspot?”

I nod slowly. What is going on?

“Don’t let her convince you to do a stunt without a spotter. She always tries to do the craziest things.” He puts an arm around her. She hits him in the face with a pom-pom. “What? Remember when you got me to do a partner stunt with you? You almost broke your neck when you fell!”

My stomach drops. She did? Why does she need to fly so desperately? It’s just cheerleading.

Someone calls Brad over from the field. My eyes follow his arm as it leaves JJ’s shoulder. “Gotta go!” He waves, jogging away. “Don’t be stupid like me! Don’t let her fall!”

JJ waves back. “Win the game!” She walks away from me.

The words come out before I can shove them back down my throat. “What a beautiful couple you make.”

She halts. “We’re not dating anymore. He’s just nice. A radical idea, right?” She faces me, planting her hands on her hips. “Being nice to your friends?”

“The irony of you saying that.”

Her fists tighten around her pom-poms. 

“Aang! JJ!” My mom’s voice cuts through the noise of the bleachers. She waves at us with her sign while my dad sips a soda. Remy’s parents are holding their own signs, chatting with Remy. “Come here!”

JJ sprints in her direction. And it hits me that, with how much her parents work, this is probably the first time someone has come to see her perform that she’s aware of. The annoyance at having my parents here decreases by one percent. Fine. Two percent. But no more.

“I love your hair!” My mom hugs JJ through the barrier, the smile coming back in full swing. Something between I want you to be my daughter and I can’t believe you’d grace my son with your presence.

“Hi, Mrs. Lau. Hi, Mr. Anderson. Hi, Mrs. Smith and Mr. Smith! I love the signs.” Her face breaks into a wide beam. “Aang must be so thankful you’ve made them.”

The signs say, in order:

Mom of the guy who lifts your daughter.

Go Blackstock High Cheerleading Squad!

Lift girls, not weights.

Go Cardinals! Go Aang!

My dad puffs up in pride, since it was his idea to make them. He went to his accounting job today with his hands stained by red paint. That he’ll put effort into, but talking about Hong Kong is a no-no? What would Grandmother say if she saw her family at a football game? She would have rolled over in her grave if she hadn’t been cremated.

What would I do if she were here? From the stories, I know she was a tobacco addict and a horse-racing gambler, so I’d probably be secondhand smoking and equine betting. Is that what people in Hong Kong do on a Friday evening?

Pressure builds in my temples, and I turn around. “We have to go,” I say. JJ says goodbye and follows me.

“I didn’t even ask her about Thanksgiving,” Mrs. Smith says as I’m walking away.

“It’s okay, I’ll ask her later,” Remy responds.

Ask whom what? Since Remy and I became friends in middle school, our families have always spent Saturday after Thanksgiving together. Will something finally change this year? Like me not having to celebrate it?

But I don’t have time to ponder it, because Ms. Rosario is on us the second we’re back at the cheerleading base. “JJ, join Alexis for the tumbling series. Aang, I need you on the stunts.”

I walk to my group while JJ and Alexis tumble. Two back handsprings and a backflip. They wave at the crowd after finishing. Where are all the tumbles where they spin around their own axis? Single, double, whatever they call them. The second and third rows of tumblers go. None of them do anything harder than a back tuck.

I stand behind Addy, and she grins at me. “Hi, Aang! Are you enjoying the evening?”

“Yes, it’s the best day of my life.”

Ms. Rosario counts. “And five, six, seven, eight!”

We’re third from the left, and the stunts are supposed to look like a ripple, so we wait five counts to lift Addy into extension. When we haul her up for one count, my mom and Remy start shouting.

I lower Addy to the ground. When she lands safely, she points to Remy. “Is that your boyfriend?”

My ears warm. “No. We’re friends.”

We do the ripple again. Addy lands on the ground. “Are you gay?”

“Addy! You can’t just ask people if they’re gay.” Paige shakes her head, but still leans forward, waiting for my response. 

My ears are now burning. “I’m not gay.”

This time, the ripple is on one leg. We put Addy down. “Do you like JJ? Is that why you joined the team?” she asks.

The burning spreads from my ears to my whole face. I check if JJ’s anywhere near to hear this conversation. Thankfully, she’s doing another tumbling series.

“So …” Addy follows my line of sight. “Is that a yes?”

“I … what? No … definitely not.” I shake my head, and my glasses slide down my nose. I push them up.

“Okay. I have a friend who’s doing bio with you. Do you want her number?”

“I … do … I …”

We do another ripple, but we stay on top for four counts with Addy holding a heel stretch.

She lands. “So … the number?”

“I …”

“Give him some time to think,” Paige says.

“And show him a photo,” Emmy adds.

“That’s so true! Mina is adorable. I’ll show you her photo during halftime.”

I smile flatly. Of course. Of course she’s talking about the only Asian girl in my biology class. Who’s Korean. And if Addy must practice her Asian matchmaking skills, she at least could have chosen someone from Hong Kong.

Instead of a ripple, we now put Addy in a prep with a sign. While she’s chanting about a touchdown, Emmy asks, “Aang’s a cool name. What does it mean?”

My fingers tighten around Addy’s ankles. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Really? I thought all Chinese names had cool meanings.”

I stop myself from squashing our flyer’s legs. “It’s not a Chinese name.”

I cannot wait for Mathletes Invitationals. I need to be in an environment where the only questions people ask me are math-related.

We set Addy back on the ground, and this time, I ask a question before they can interrogate me further. “Why are the stunts and tumbling so easy? We do harder stuff for warm-ups at training.”

“I know. It’s so embarrassing.” Paige looks at the other team. “We look like amateurs compared to Kensington High. And we beat them at State last year!”

“It’s Coach. She refuses to let us do more complicated stuff outside.” Addy stomps on the running truck. “Tumbling here is bad for the joints, and stunting carries a higher risk of concussion than football, or whatever.”

I shiver as the image of JJ’s head hitting the mat flashes in my mind. “Well … that’s good, then?”

“Safer for us.” Addy rolls her eyes. “But we look so dull! The football team says we bore the crowd and always tries to get Coach to do more interesting stunts. But she tells them we don’t even have to be here, and they shut up.”

I look around the team, and I get the feeling that not a single one of these girls is scared of getting hurt. It’s like there’s a protective blanket around us.

“Quick break!” Ms. Rosario shouts.

We jog to where she’s handing out orange juice. I grab a cup from her. “Thank you.”

“No problem. After the break, you’re gonna backspot JJ, okay?”

“Okay … Coach.”

She smiles at me and turns to one of the girls. I walk toward our bags, draining the juice. I can practice a few characters now. Every stroke I do before the February exam will bring me closer to being better than Michael.

My sneakers screech on the track when I see who’s in my way. Bryn and Monique are standing next to the bags. No way am I getting anywhere near them after lunch. I spin around and head to the stunting spot, throwing the cup into the trash along the way. I stare at the ground, pretending I can’t hear the shouts of my five fans.

A white shoe enters my field of vision. JJ’s warming up for the next part, doing a split. I check behind me. Paige and Emmy are still drinking and chatting.

What a world I live in, where focusing on the game is my best option. We’re winning 14–7, but it beats me whether that’s a good score or not. And that’s despite years of being forced to watch the Alabama Thanksgiving game. A guy in a helmet—and I just know it’s Brad—is talking to the team huddled around him.

I wonder who broke up with whom. Why would she break up with him when he’s clearly her type? That doesn’t make any sense. But then I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would want to break up with her.

I don’t notice when JJ stands up and spins around. But I do notice when her face hits my chest. She yelps and stumbles back.

I automatically extend my hand, but she regains her balance on her own. I pull my hand back, frowning at it. What was that?

JJ also stares at it, blinking. But she shakes herself off and shouts for Paige and Emmy to join us already.

As we start the stunt, two other groups mirror us on either side. The rest of the team chants in front of us. We hold JJ’s right leg above us in extension while she kicks her left foot behind her, catching the ankle. She extends her leg up, arching her back, until there’s a straight line from her standing leg to her raised leg.

She’s doing a split standing up.

The image carves out its own space in my brain, and I already hate how often I will think about the floodlights illuminating her dark skin, her ponytail swaying, and her smile—

I miss the count.

Paige and Emmy bend their elbows to bring JJ down, but my arms stay locked. JJ bends her leg, expecting the usual timing, but I’m off count, and she’s falling forward toward the track. I move, but Paige and Emmy are faster. They let go of her leg and catch her before she hits the ground. The impact makes them all grunt.

JJ’s heaving, her eyes wide with panic. My heart slams against my rib cage. That was the closest she’s come to hitting the ground since the first practice, but this time, the mats weren’t waiting for her. The avalanche of possibilities of what I almost let happen crashes into me, knocking the breath out of me.

“Is everyone okay?” Emmy asks.

JJ’s not listening, instead pointing at me. “You.” She pushes herself up, her legs wobbly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I didn’t mean … I was …” The words tangle on my tongue. She looks horrified. I’ve caused many expressions on her face, but never complete terror.

“Listen.” She tightens the bow on her ponytail with shaky hands. “I know lunch wasn’t ideal—”

“This isn’t about lunch.” I stand up straighter. 

“—but you cannot use that to ruin my chances of being a flyer.”

The accusation hits harder than getting kicked in the face yesterday. My hands ball into fists. “Are you serious? You think I’d ever let you get hurt as revenge?”

“Like you haven’t done other things for revenge.”

“You’re equating changing a schedule with letting you fall? What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? I fell and Coach would never—” Her voice cracks. “What happened? You were making me better! You were making me fly!” The despair in her voice tugs at my anger, reminding me that this is indeed my fault.

Shouts from the crowd draw our attention to the field. Brad’s running.

“Oh no.” JJ grabs her pom-poms and sprints to the other already-cheering girls. I didn’t even notice Paige and Emmy disappearing. I spot Coach observing me as Brad runs into the end zone. The referee whistles to indicate halftime.

Coach’s gaze shifts from me to JJ.