Striding down the west corridor of her high school carefully, protecting the little bundle in her arms, Ranko couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the absurd juxtaposition of it all. She vividly remembered days when Akane would come out of her home skills class carrying something she’d made, and the hallways would clear from the smell alone. She used to get so pissed about it. Back then, the boy she’d once been would have laughed about how stupid it was that the girls were so invested in protecting what amounted to edible homework that had already been graded. And yet, just over a year later, here she stood shepherding a plastic tray of six muffins down the crowded, narrow concourse as if it were some sacred relic that was the key to saving the universe from a demon or something. What a difference a year had made. Here I am again, Akane, being a silly girl, she thought to herself with a blush and a little smile.
Balancing the tray cautiously on one hand, she manipulated the little blue combination lock dangling from her locker door with the other, popping it open. She delicately cleared the top shelf of books and rested the tray in their place, exhaling in relief that they had survived this first leg of the journey home. She slid her chemistry book into her little black satchel for fifth period, before deciding to go ahead and take her trigonometry book for sixth as well. It would save her a trip back to the locker between classes, as her math class was on the opposite end of the campus. She stacked her remaining books in the bottom of the locker alongside her sneakers and her empty lunch bag.
As she reached up to latch her locker closed, she felt someone approaching from behind. She turned, having to remind herself not to automatically drop into a defensive position. The last thing she wanted was people thinking she was the kind of girl who was always looking for a fight. In fact, she was still perfectly content to go about her time at Yusue High utterly invisible, with the exception of Kumiko. She’d been a huge help in acclimating to the school’s social structure, and not making Ranko feel like a total freak for eating alone every day.
Fortunately, the two girls standing behind her didn’t seem to be much of a threat, at least, not yet.
“Oh, hi!” The taller of the two girls, the one on the left, waved enthusiastically. Ranko wished they would tone it down just a hair. She was running on two hours of sleep again and the vending machine had been out of energy drinks today. “You’re Ranko, right? The transfer student?”
“Uh, yeah?” Ranko clicked her lock closed, spinning the dial to a random number before slinging the strap of her bag onto her shoulder.
The shorter girl clapped her hands excitedly. “Ohmigods, hi! We’ve been looking for you, like, all day!”
“Okay?” Ranko wasn’t sure whether she was intrigued, offended, both, or neither. Whatever they had to say, Ranko wished they would get it over with; their exuberance was starting to give her a headache.
The taller girl grinned, pulling a folded sheet of green paper out of her yellow messenger bag. “So, we were talking to your friend Kumiko, and she said you’re a performer, right?”
A published songwriter and vocalist, Ranko thought to herself proudly, even though it was only a couple of tapes that hadn’t even been manufactured yet. “You could say that, I guess. Why, what’s up? I don’t do birthday parties and stuff, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She and her band actually did do party gigs on occasion, but she was not about to show up at an upperclassman’s birthday party as the help. She’d be socially doomed in a matter of seconds.
The green handout was thrust into her hand. “We were kind of hoping you’d help us out! We’re recruiting for the Yusue cheerleading squad!”
Ranko’s face turned as red as the ribbon in her hair. Mental note, she thought to herself, kill Kumiko later. “Uh, listen girls, I appreciate you thinking of me and all, but I don’t really do martial arts anymore.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The shorter cheerleader turned to her companion. “What do martial arts have to do with cheerleading? That’s weird.”
Ranko’s face flushed even further. She’d never considered the possibility that maybe the whole martial-arts-in-every-sport thing was something regional. Honestly, the more she thought about it, the whole idea was probably cooked up by Principal Kuno, as nutty as that guy was, and he’d somehow gotten the other local schools to participate. Still, though, her having misspoken there did not fluster half as much as the idea of having this conversation at all. There was being a girl, then there was being a high school student who was a girl, and then there was being a cheerleader. Even for someone who sang on stage in whatever chiffon fever dream Izumi came up with on a regular basis, cheerleading was a feminine bridge too far.
Still, she knew how many other girls at the school would have loved to be recruited. If she were being honest with herself, given the way Kumiko stared awestruck at the cheerleaders as they walked the halls on game days, Ranko was surprised she’d not asked for a tryout herself. Then again, confidence was not exactly Kumiko’s brand when it came to the popular kids. In any case, the last thing Ranko wanted was to come off as rude to the queens of the school. And maybe, just maybe, she could admit to herself that she was a little flattered to have been asked.
“Girls, I don’t really have time for extracurriculars right now. I’m so busy with extra classes and work right now. Thanks for thinking of me, though! It really means a lot!” She tried to give them as sincere a smile as possible, even though between their proposition and their present vivacity, Ranko was more inclined to try and shoo them away with a squirt bottle full of holy water.
The shorter girl whined. “Aww, but Kumiko said you’re really good! We only have one practice a week, plus games and stuff, but if you need to miss those once in a while it’s okay. But we do a competition every year that’s a dance performance, and Yusue hasn’t won in… well, basically, our lifetimes. As squad captain, I, Shiori Nagata, pledged I’d lead the Lions to victory in the All-Tokyo Invitational before I graduated.” She made a determined pose, flexing her fist resolutely. “But it’s my senior year, and… well, we really need you!”
The second cheerleader nodded enthusiastically. “Plus, it looks really good on college applications if you do some clubs and athletics and stuff.”
Ranko scoffed a bit, under her breath. College. Now they were just being ridiculous. College was for smart girls like Akane and Mei and Izumi. She’d be grateful if she graduated high school before she was old enough to retire, considering she was walking from a twelfth-grade class to an eleventh, with a tenth-grade math class to follow. She’d be there to clap for Akane when she walked across the school auditorium with her diploma in her hand, but the only thing she ever expected to hold on stage was a microphone, and that suited her just fine.
Shiori chimed in, filling the void left by Ranko’s introspection. “And, let’s be honest, if you like to dance…”
Ranko blushed. Come to think of it, she had read somewhere that Paula Abdul had been a cheerleader for a professional basketball team in the United States before she’d been discovered for her choreography skills. Maybe there could be some value to doing it after all.
She shook her head, more in response to her own thoughts than anything the cheerleaders had said. She couldn’t believe that she was even having this conversation with herself. Not only was cheerleading totally a thing for silly girls, but as it was, she was already way too busy. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week! Maybe that was why she was having this conversation with herself. Just sleep-deprived delirium. Apparently, exhaustion makes you brave, she thought to herself.
Ranko folded the little green handout, stuffing it down into the side pocket of her black satchel. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay?”
Both girls jumped excitedly, clapping their hands. Shiori squealed loudly, as if she were about to start a ride on a roller coaster. “That’s so great! We’d love to perform with you! If you decide you want to try out, practices are Tuesdays right after school, out by the rugby field. Come by any time.”
“Uh, sure.” Even if Ranko were somehow convinced to help them win a dance competition, there was not enough caffeine in the known universe to get her to act like that, and if they hoped otherwise, they would be grievously disappointed.