“NEXT!”

Eloise heard the terse dismissal as she peered through the fingerprint-smudged square foot of glass situated just high enough on the door to the gymnasium that she, an only-slightly-shorter-than-average young woman, had to arch up onto her tippy-toes in order to barely see what was on the other side. She blew sharply from between her lips to clear a strand of tangerine-colored hair from her eyes. What she had strained herself to see, however, made her wish that she hadn’t spent the effort. The girl that Eloise watched wipe at the corners of her eyes and did a poor job restraining herself from half-running toward the locker rooms in an effort to hide her tears had done great. The tear-stricken reject was much better than she was, Eloise thought.

The way the performer had gotten shooed away from the judge’s table was enough to make Eloise feel like turning tail and scampering back down the hallway. She had watched what she had assumed to be a prime candidate for callback auditions stick her landings, work the judges with the trademark cheerleader “I go to bed with a grin this wide” facials, and all the while never stop wiggling her hands in a nauseating onslaught of “pep.” Now that she thought about it, Eloise could’ve sworn that the newly heartbroken occupant of the locker room was in her Wednesday Econ class and overheard that she used to cheer for State.

“What’s the point..” Eloise said aloud in order to give voice to her discouragement. As with any time anyone has ever expressed themselves in this way in all of history, she hoped there was some wise, old counsel standing within earshot that would come from out from the wings to deliver a perspective-shifting pep talk to encourage her. It goes without saying that, riding on the back of this historic oration, Eloise would then go on to nail the audition and secure a spot on the squad.

“You’re cute, honey, and I think the other girls are going to love you.”

Eloise whirled around, with no small helping of bewilderment at the sheer unlikelihood of what was happening, to face the source of the voice. She didn’t expect it to belong to a fair-skinned brunette dressed from top to tails in a curve-hugging Lancaster University cheerleading team uniform. Her ‘wise, old counsel’ looked about her age and had her hair wrapped into two, tightly-pulled pigtails that draped down from both sides of her head. Her face was caked in the signature exaggerated style of makeuppery that cheerleaders the world over had adopted in order so their work could be seen from the away bleachers. Eloise also couldn’t help but take note of her toned body; she sported slender calves, tight arms, and a relatively flat chest. In spite of the moderate workout regimen she had adopted in preparation for these tryouts, the aspirant cheerleader hadn’t quite reached the body fat percentage where she was that lacking in the endowment department. She had to silently scold herself so she didn’t reflexively reach up and paw at her own chest.

“.. you hear me, sweetie? I think you’re up next, too,” she watched the lips of her nameless coach say. Eloise snapped back into reality.

“–oh! Yeah, thanks!” she squeaked. “I hope I get on the squad. I’ve wanted to be a cheerleader since I was a little girl, and I’d do anything just to be a part of one.”

“Sounds like me last year when I first tried out,” the girl replied with a smile. “My name’s Emily, by the way.”

“Eloise.”

“Glad to meet you, Eloise. I hope I see you tomorrow for callbacks!” Emily motioned toward the door. “I’ve got to get back in there. Job to do, and all.” Without another word, Eloise watched Emily push on the brushed aluminum door bar until it clicked, opened the door, and scurry across the threshold onto the thickly varnished wood of the gym floor.

“Yeah, of course,” Eloise acknowledged as she watched who she hoped would be her squadmate rush back to her post. Alone again, she breathed a sigh of relief. Emily was right. Eloise had trained for this moment for months, and, there and then in that hallway, she resolved to ace her audition. In a few weeks, she would be doing reverse backsprings down the sideline and take her place being mounted in the human pyramid. She had this, she thought. She followed suit behind her confidence-instilling conspirator by pushing her way through the creaking metal door into the gymnasium and the tryouts.

The distance from the threshold she crossed and the judge’s table might as well have been a infinite.