Tiffany Weiss

“Rabble!”

“The best!”

“Rabble!”

“The best!”

This was the state championship. This was the closest game all year. Fourth quarter and the Louisville Packers were ahead by two points, but the ball was with the Ridgemont Rabble. They could still win this, and Tiffany was cheering for all she was worth. She'd never been so excited for a game. None of the girls had.

“Tiffany! Beth! Double-handspring!” That was their captain speaking, and Tiffany didn't even think about it. She ran and flipped over her hands, twirling twice through the air. The crowd had fallen silent, transfixed by her feat. She straightened her legs for the landing, but they hit something else in the air. A moment later, she and Beth clattered to ground.

There was a sharp pain in her ankle, but it was nothing compared to the wails coming from Beth. The other girl cradled her arm. Her face was bright red and tears were streaking down her cheeks. The rest of the squad huddled around them, but their captain cleared some space. “Are you two alright?”

Beth obviously was not, and the field medic carried her away on a stretcher. Tiffany knew that something was wrong with her ankle, too, but if she told anyone, they'd take her out of the game. This was the state championship. She wasn't going to spend it on the sidelines holding a bag of ice against her leg. “I'm fine,” she finally said, pushing herself up. Her ankle still hurt, but as long as she didn't put her full weight on it, it wasn't too bad.

“That was stupid,” her captain reprimanded her. “You've got to watch where you're going. I'd suspend you if we didn't need every girl we've got.” Tiffany simply nodded, and then her captain went back to leading the cheers. “Rabble!”

“The best!”

“Rabble!”

“The best!”

The crowd started cheering again, and their team made a seventeen yard run. They were well past half-field now. Tiffany was cheering, too, and the pain in her ankle became just a faint echo. The clock was ticking down, but her team was going to win. She could feel it! She let that feeling overwhelm her, and then she projected it out to the crowd in cheer after cheer. It was the sort of thing the team could hear. It was sincerity and real passion. It was what made her a great Rabble-Rouser.

There was another long run, and suddenly her team was just six yards from the goal line. They could do this! She cheered and cheered, but two plays later they hadn't made any progress. Another failed throw and they were at fourth down. They had to make it now or everything was lost. The couch called a time out, and her own captain pulled the squad into a huddle.

“We're doing the human pyramid.”

There was a murmur of excitement, then one of the other girls spoke up. “But Beth was the top. Who's going to take her place?”

The captain's eyes scanned her squad, weighing each of them. Finally, they settled on Tiffany. She could tell that her captain was weighing something. “Tiffany's the lightest, but she messed up big just half an hour ago. Can we count on her?” Tiffany's heart froze, but soon the other girls were nodding their consent. “Then Tiffany it is. Now . . . break!”

The football team was lining up for their play, and row by row the girls stacked on top of each other. Soon the third tier was complete, and Tiffany scrambled on top. Standing on the backs of the two highest girls, she felt something shifting in her ankle that shouldn't. Tiffany ignored this, though. She held her pompoms high and cheered, her face bright red and tears streaming down her cheeks.