Keep Jumping / No Hating

  The Lockwood High cheer squad has it all—sass, looks, and all the right moves. But everything isn’t always as perfect as it seems. Because where there’s cheer, there’s drama. And then there’s the ballers—hot, tough, and on point. But what’s going to win out—life’s pressures or their NFL dreams?

  Hallie Ray is jealous of her BFFs.

  And sometimes jealousy can ruin everything . . .

  KEEP JUMPING

  Stephanie Perry Moore

  CHEER DRAMA

  Always Upbeat

  Keep Jumping

  Yell Out

  Settle Down

  Shake It

  Copyright © 2012 by Saddleback Educational Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher. SADDLEBACK EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING and any associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Saddleback Educational Publishing.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61651-885-1

  ISBN-10: 1-61651-885-5

  eBook: 978-1-61247-619-3

  Printed in Guangzhou, China

  0000/00-00-00

  16 15 14 13 12  1 2 3 4 5

  To Michele Clark Jenkins

  You’re the best attorney in the world. I so appreciate you always embracing my ideas, putting my vision down on paper, and bringing my goals to life. We have been blessed to co-edit a couple of projects that were written to inspire people to be real and have faith. May every reader learn to not stop dreaming and continue on as you have always told me to do.

  Remain a mover and shaker . . . I love you!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  It is difficult to continue running a race when you feel like you are losing. You may ask yourself why try and cross the finish line when the prize seems to be taken. You look over and others are going faster. They seem stronger and seem to have it all.

  The grass may seem greener on the other side of the fence, but trust me, your grass has it going on too. And if you spend more time running your race versus looking over your shoulder, you’d get a faster time. If you spend more time watering your grass, yours will be the nicest on the block. The point here is simple . . . keep moving. Don’t waste time worrying about others. Fix your weaknesses and operate in your strengths. If you stay in your lane, you’ll win your fair share of prizes in life.

  Here is a gigantic thank you to the people who are helping me move on to accomplish great things.

  For my parents, Dr. Franklin and Shirley Perry Sr., thanks for your provisions that keep me going.

  For my publisher, especially, Arianne McHugh, thanks for your eagerness to work with me and for the chance to keep me writing.

  For my extended family: brother, Dennis Perry, godmother, Majorie Kimbrough, mother-in-law, Ann Redding, brother-in-Christ, Jay Spencer, and goddaughter, Danielle Lynn, thanks for your support. You keep me inspired.

  For my assistants: Alyxandra Pinkston and Joy Spencer, thanks ladies for hanging in there, keeping me on point.

  For my friends who are dear to my heart: Lakeba Williams, Leslie Perry, Sarah Lundy, Jenell Clark, Nicole Smith, Jackie Dixon, Torian Colon, Loni Perriman, Kim Forest, Vickie Davis, Kim Monroe, Jamell Meeks, Michele Jenkins, Lois Barney, Veronica Evans, Laurie Weaver, Taiwanna Brown-Bolds, Matosha Glover, Yolanda Rodgers-Howsie, Dayna Fleming, Denise Gilmore, and Deborah Bradley, thanks for your love, which keeps me grounded.

  For my teens: Dustyn, Sydni, and Sheldyn, thanks for loving your mom. You keep me hungry.

  For my husband, Derrick, thanks for being my partner in life who keeps me passionate.

  For my new readers, thanks for reading my work. You keep me humbled.

  And my Lord and Savior, thanks for allowing me to connect with Saddleback Educational Publishing and help others grasp a love for reading. You keep me blessed.

  CHAPTER 1

  Looking In

  Have you ever felt like your world was perfect? Like it could not get any better? Like you were right where you needed to be, and you hoped nothing would change? You know that feeling of excitement when your heart starts racing and your insides get all gushy because you can’t even believe you’re experiencing sheer happiness? For some the excitement might come from getting straight As. Others might get a thrill behind the wheel of a new car. Some hearts might race in the arms of a new boyfriend. Well, for me it was being a cheerleader.

  Yep, I had longed to sport the precious white uniform with purple and gold accents. I had dreamed of becoming a cheerleader and yelling on the sidelines for my school for years. I had no words to describe what it felt like living my dream.

  We cheered, “Go Lions! Go Lions! Beat the Bulldogs! Beat the Bulldogs! Come on, you can do it! Let’s go, put your mind to it! Go Lions! Go Lions! Beat the Bulldogs! Beat the Bulldogs! Yay!”

  “Hallie Ray, you got this, girl!” Charli came over to me and said. She gave me a big hug between cheers to motivate me.

  Charli Black was one of my best friends and the team captain. When Charli tells you you’re good, well, that’s major. She was the best cheerleader I knew. I mean, if you looked up the definition of cheerleader in the dictionary, her picture would be right there.

  “You think I did okay?” I said to her. I was anxious to do a super job.

  “Don’t get that head all blown up,” said feisty Eva. She was my one girlfriend who had no problem speaking out without thinking first. “Just playing. You know you’re showing out. Don’t slack in the second half.”

  Eva was a sassy something, but I loved the fact that she said what was in her heart and on her mind. She never tried to sugarcoat her opinion or make the medicine of her words go down easier. She just said whatever came to her. You had to deal with it. Even though her coarse joking got on my nerves sometimes, I really appreciated that she thought I was doing well.

  Eva had a twin sister, Ella, who was also on the cheerleading squad. Though they looked exactly alike, their personalities were completely different. Ella was a sweetheart. Though she also said what she felt, she took time making sure that she never hurt anyone’s feelings. She really cared about pleasing everyone, whereas her sister couldn’t care less if she didn’t please a soul.

  The last of our crew was Randal. She simply gave me a high-five. She was really shy, but when it was time to cheer, she turned on the magic.

  We were all juniors at Lockwood High School, and at this very moment we were performing at our first home football game. Our team was supposed to be dynamic, and as I looked up at the probably ten thousand fans at our sold-out game, I felt pressured to hold my own.

  I went up to Charli and said, “Could you please just call the cheers we’ve been practicing a lot and not the ones you just taught us this week? Please, because I don’t want to look stupid.”

  “I got you, girl,” she said to me, as she went on to call out the next cheer.

  Charli was on cloud nine. She had gone through a lot of boy drama. Blake Strong, the hottest stud in our school and the quarterback of the team, was her man for the last two years. However, he started tripping and ended up getting with this other girl who gave it up. It broke Charli’s heart. She’s so beautiful and sweet. Incredibly, Blake’s cousin Brenton, who is also a football player, showed up to wipe away her tears.

  If being a cheerleader was measured by the heart you had for the sport, then I would have all that I needed. However, that was not the case; you also needed skills. In addition to wanting it really bad, I had a big mouth. That was a good thing when it came to cheering. My problem was that my jumps were lousy. I also had difficulty rememb
ering new cheers and dance routines. Worse than anything, I could not tumble at all.

  It was halftime and the score was 14–0. Unfortunately, the score was not in our favor. The crowd booed the team when they went into the locker room. Now it was time to go to the middle of the field and pump up the crowd. With our dance number, we did just that. We were not just a squad who cheered for the football team. No, we were competition cheerleaders too, getting ready to compete for the state championship.

  When it was time to announce the individuals on our squad, I wanted to go run and hide. Everyone ran and performed two round-offs, a back handspring, and a tuck. Well, everyone but me. I could barely do a cartwheel much less any major tumbling.

  There were twenty girls on our team and watching one after the other after the other tumble on the turf, I was embarrassed. I wished I had their skills. I wished I had their poise. I wished I could do what they could do, but I could not. When my name was called, I did a pitiful cartwheel.

  I heard someone out in the crowd yell, “Flip!”

  I dashed off the field. There were still a couple more cheers that we were going to do, but I fled. I saw our cheer coach, Coach Woods, give me an unhappy glare. I defied that hard look and went over to the concession stand to get away from the feelings of inadequacy. I bumped into my father.

  “You did good, girl. Why did you leave the field? The other cheerleaders aren’t finished,” he remarked.

  I wanted to say, “Isn’t it obvious, Dad? I really don’t have what it takes to be a level four cheerleader.” Level four was reserved for a cheerleader with an amazing tumbling ability that I just did not have.

  “Well, are you going to spend the night at Charli’s?” he asked. I nodded yes. “All right, well, I’m going to go on home. I just wanted to come out and see my baby girl perform at her first game. You’re amazing. No need to rush home tomorrow. Just be smart. Again, baby girl, great job.”

  I knew he was supposed to say that. I let him kiss my forehead, slip a few dollars in my hand, and feel proud. How the day went from my happiest moment to my most embarrassing one, I will never know. But it happened, and I was dejected. The last thing I wanted to do was get back out on the field and cheer.

  I was hungry, so I took the money my dad gave me and stayed in line to get some fries. I didn’t want to eat too much and get sick, but since I was not bouncing and flipping all over the place, what difference would it make?

  Then a masculine voice that I did not recognize said from behind me, “You really shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. They’re not doing anything you can’t do.”

  I turned around and my eyes met a guy I had never seen before. My high school was pretty big, but this guy was cute enough that he should have stood out in the crowd. He gave a whole new meaning to the term tall, black, and handsome. His chocolate skin was smooth like a Hershey bar, and he had muscles that I wanted to touch. He looked so built that it seemed like he should be out there on the football field. I quickly turned around, trying to gain my composure.

  I knew deep in my soul that I was a talk person. I was taking this test with my friends a few days ago out of a book called The Five Love Languages of Friendship, and I realized that I was what the book described as “words of affirmation.” That meant words made me feel love, but words could also dramatically tear me down.

  Hearing this guy tell me that I could do it was super special and lifted me somewhat. Though he did not know me, he told me what my heart longed to hear. It made me smile, but when I turned back to face him, he was gone.

  Did I imagine him? Did I want to hear someone tell me I could do the impossible? After scouting the crowd, looking all over for him, and being unsuccessful, I realized I was dreaming. I needed to wake up because halftime was over and Charli was calling. Whether I liked it or not, I had to cheer.

  Strolling into the after party with my girls meant all eyes were on us. Though we were only juniors, we were mad popular. We were five varsity cheerleaders who hung out, and in more than one way, we were thicker than the juiciest steak. We got called meat and a whole bunch of other names when we passed by clusters of guys.

  I did not realize my face was glum until Eva said, “Girl, don’t be frowning. Ain’t nobody going to ask you to dance looking all ugly and stuff. Smile, relax, work your body. Don’t let your body work against you. Loosen up.”

  But it was hard to do that when I saw guys whispering about everyone in my crew but me. They were talking about Ella and Eva’s bodies. They were talking about how beautiful Charli was. They were talking about Randal’s eyes and hair that flowed down her back. However, nobody was saying anything about Hallie Ray.

  All I wanted was for someone to ask me to dance. I was not trying to leave the dance with a guy. I had learned my lesson of being too fast last year.

  Maybe wanting attention came because I felt broken. I could blame it on the fact that I was having a ton of problems at home. I was an only child, and my dad was my rock. My mom, however, was a junkie and living who-knows-where. Every day I never really knew whether she was alive or dead. It took me a long time to come to terms with that. I still hoped we could get her clean, get her to change her ways, and get her to want to be my mom more than she wanted to blow on a pipe. Problem was I could not always find her, and my dad was so frustrated trying to get her to do the right thing that he started burying himself in his job working longer hours.

  During my sophomore year I had no supervisor at home. So when a senior guy started paying attention to me, I was vulnerable. He said all the things I needed to hear, but he did not mean it. Within the first month of dating me, he had his way. I was no longer pure. He ditched me two months later after he felt that I was all used up. I was devastated and put all my energy into making the team.

  I did not want to be used again, but I did not want to be alone at this dance either. When Brenton came up to Charli and she left, it was the four of us. Then a senior came up to Eva. She winked and was gone. When two guys approached Ella, Randal, and me, I knew someone was going to be the odd girl out. I was not surprised when it was me.

  “We can stay here with you. We don’t have to dance,” Randal said, truly meaning it.

  “Girl, go have fun,” I said with some heart. I didn’t want to kill my friends’ fun.

  Because guys were not into me did not mean I wanted my girls to live my life. Having guys ignoring you and not thinking you were cute enough was not fun. Being passed up hurt.

  I could feel other girls in the room hating on me and my friends with their stares. Actually, they were not hating on me because I was in the same boat. The sad thing was that a part of me was envious of what my girls had that I did not: curves, gorgeous eyes, beauty, and popularity with the guys. I was cute but I was not gorgeous, while some of them—even if they didn’t think so—were definitely model material. Honestly, I did not even understand why they were my friends. Last year watching the four of them cheer JV while I sat alone in the stands was excruciating. Now I was one of them and still I did not truly feel that I belonged.

  Charli walked over to me after one of the songs was over. “Brenton has gone to get me something to drink. Do you want something?”

  With attitude I grunted out, “He’s gone to get you something to drink?”

  “I can text him. He told me to ask you if you wanted something. What’s eating you?” Charli asked, sensing my tension.

  “I’m fine,” I muttered.

  Charli stood close. “You know I care. So what’s wrong with Hallie today? You didn’t take your happy pill? You were out there cheering for the first time on the field. I know you had to be excited.”

  It was not that Charli was so into herself that she did not know what I needed. I could tell she cared. However, she had no clue about the way I cheered during the entire game. The second half was completely different from the way I cheered the first half. After I could not tumble and flip, my excitement faded.

  She put her hand on my sassy, short do an
d said, “Is it the tumbling?” I looked away. “We can work on your tumbling, Hallie. We can work on your jumps. You can get it. You got to get it because we’re going to compete in a couple weeks, and we all need to be flipping. We’re going to help you. No worries.”

  I was tired of that phrase. How could she tell me no worries? Easy for her to say because she was the flipping queen. At this point in my life, it was not that I was unable to flip. I had a mental block, and I could not convince my mind to let my body fly freely in the air.

  “What else is wrong with you, Hallie? I know you, girl. You’re sitting here on the wall with your arms folded and your lips poked out. Any guy who wants to come over here will think twice because he won’t want to get his head cut off. Eva was right, loosen up.”

  “You and Eva know nothing about what I’m feeling. You two could have the chicken pox and guys would be attracted to you. Some of us have to work a little harder at it.”

  “Okay, well, take some advice from us and quit doing the exact opposite of what would make a guy come over here and holler at you, dang. And don’t look at twelve o’clock. There’s a guy checking you out right now, and he’s cute, girl,” Charli said, making facial expressions that confirmed what she was saying.

  No one who was making her that giddy could be eyeing me. “Don’t play.”

  Charli nodded. “I’m serious.”

  Then I remembered the mystery man I’d seen at halftime and then thought I’d imagined. Could he be real? Was he there? Nah.

  Wanting to believe the possibility, I shared, “There was this one guy earlier today when I was at the concession stand. I turned around, but he was gone. It’s like I imagined him.”

  “Well, I’m not imagining this dude. He’s looking at you like you are a biscuit with honey, and he’s ready to gobble you up. Turn around slowly, slowly, slowly . . .”