The start of seventh grade meant we moved to the second floor of our middle school, also getting new lockers and new teachers. There were seven periods (the first being homeroom, which only lasted twenty minutes) in each school day plus lunch. Each middle school grade was divided into two groups, with one group occupying one half of their respective floor and the second group the other half. Fortunately, our group of friends all ended up in Group A for seventh grade, meaning we shared most classes, had lockers in the same section, and sat together during school assemblies. We all looked down on the kids in Group B, thinking they weren’t as cool as we were.
Matty and I had math and science together that year, along with gym class, which was three times a week; art and home economics filled in the other days when we weren’t in P.E. We also shared the same homeroom and study hall period, meaning we were together for five of the seven periods each day along with lunch. Since our names were “Andrews” and “Boyd,” we were always alphabetically seated together. I actually liked not having him in my language arts and social studies classes as those were my best subjects. I was able to focus and participate more without Matty there to distract me.
Matty and all the boys from our friend group played seventh grade football; and just like we had in the summer for tennis and baseball, us girls went to all of the games, whether played on our home field or at one of the other middle schools in the surrounding area. My parents drove Krista, me, and a couple of other friends to every game, usually staying themselves to watch the boys play, as well as to talk to the other parents in attendance.
The seventh-grade football and basketball games featured cheerleaders; and by the time the basketball season rolled around, Krista had convinced me to sign up for the try outs. She had wanted us to try out for the football cheerleading squad earlier in the year but would not do it without me, and I had staunchly refused to even entertain the idea. However, she finally wore me down when basketball cheerleading tryouts were announced.
I was sick with nerves and equally terrified of both rejection as well as making the squad and having to cheer in public. Turns out, there were just enough girls in try outs so that everyone got a spot. And it wasn’t like we had to do anything complex, just yell and jump around a bit; so, the chances of not being selected based on skills were slim, anyway.
The boys played in two different groups, the A Team and the B Team. The A Team featured the best players; everyone else was on the B Team. And the cheerleaders alternated between both groups. So, sometimes I found myself cheering for the B Team, and other times the A Team, which was Matty’s team. Since the teams played back-to-back, I was always there to watch Matty regardless of which team I happened to be cheering for.
Surprisingly, I took to cheerleading. It helped bring me out of my shell; after all, I couldn’t just stand there while the other girls cheered and jumped. I had to participate and blend in. And I found it was fun to do the dance moves and cheer for the guys; plus, I secretly loved shaking my sparkly pom-pom’s. My favorite cheer was “Be Aggressive,” which we did at least three times every game:
Be aggressive!
B-E aggressive!
B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E
We also cheered for each individual boy:
Matty, Matty, he’s our man!
If he can’t do it, no one can.
Gooooo, Matty!
I admit that I felt a little jealous if one of the other girls cheered louder for Matty than I did; he was MY player.
Basketball games, like the football games months prior, were played on Friday nights. We cheerleaders wore our uniforms to school on game days. I felt special walking around through the hallways in my sweater and skirt ensemble, even though they were itchy. We would decorate the boy’s lockers before leaving school the previous afternoon so that the guys saw their balloons and streamers first thing on the morning of game days. I would head home after school for a quick dinner before my parents drove me back for the game, which they also stayed for. They took countless photos of me cheering, and once my dad even brought his video camera to film me; but I only let him do that once as it was embarrassing.
Matty’s parents were always in attendance at every game, his dad yelling at his son the entire time. Afterwards, his folks usually wanted to go out to dinner with some of the other parents, so Matty would ride back to my house with me and my family. My little sisters, Sarah and Katie, who were eight and ten at the time, were always there, too. My parents had a minivan, and Matty and I would sit in the very back on the short ride to my house. The boys all showered in the locker room after games, and Matty always shook his wet hair at me. One time my dad suddenly swerved to miss a car that hadn’t stopped at the light; all of us yelped and were jostled around a bit. Matty took my hand and held it the rest of the way home.
Once at my house, I’d change out of my itchy cheerleading uniform and into comfy sweats before joining everyone else in the downstairs living room, where my mom would have laid out drinks and snacks and my dad would be looking for a movie to put into the VCR. We always tried to quiet down to watch whatever film ended up being chosen, but we usually spent the next couple of hours eating and chatting.
My dad loved to talk sports with Matty; they would often analyze
