My Life as a Drillteamer

by Tracy

  

The next thing I knew, summer was almost over. After our last early-morning practice, Laurie said she had a surprise for me. Along with Carol, still in our practice outfits, we went to Nordstrom's, the department store at the mall. Laurie marched me up to the Clinique makeup counter and told the girl there I needed a full makeup consultation. I'd kind of expected this: Laurie had warned me that she was going to have my makeup done professionally before the season started. What I didn't expect was that the girl at the counter was someone I'd known for year – the big sister of a guy I'd known since first grade! Her name was Kelly. She was wearing the black smock and heavy makeup that all the cosmetics consultants wore.

"Well hey, Brian!" she said teasingly. "I heard you were a Cheerokee now."

"Hey Kelly," I said. "Yep, pretty crazy, huh?" That was all I could think of to say. Pretty soon there were 4 girls – Laurie, Carol, Kelly and one of the other cosmetics girls – grouped around while Kelly did my makeup.

"He needs two versions," explained Laurie. "One for daytime, when he just wants to look nice, and one for marching in at night."

"Okay," said Kelly, "let's do the evening one right now." And she started in with some foundation. While she did my face she talked about cleansers, different kinds of foundations, and a bunch of other stuff I didn't quite follow. The other girls chimed in with suggestions and picked out different eye shadows, mascaras, and so on. It was a Saturday afternoon and a steady stream of shoppers walked past the cosmetics department. I don't think any of them noticed that I was a guy. When Kelly finished she stepped back and said "Voila!" I looked in the mirror on the counter and couldn't believe the transformation. I thought I was too heavily made-up, but Laurie said "Forget it: you look beautiful and you're not taking it off." So I spent the rest of that afternoon in full makeup. I wasn't ready for my Mom to see my like that, though; luckily I got home without her seeing me and washed off the makeup in my bathroom. I looked very plain without it.

 

Laurie and Ashley & I spent the Labor Day weekend at the lake. Ashley's parents were there, so we had to behave ourselves for the most part, but each night they managed to sneak into the small bungalow where I was sleeping and we would whisper, and giggle, and make out till 4 or 5 a.m. when they'd sneak back into their bedroom in the main house. (I wondered what was going on in their bedroom, between the two of them, but tried not to be jealous.) Then we'd all sleep in till almost noon. Ashley's parents, unlike mine and Laurie's, were still married, though I could never figure out why. They hardly spoke and spent most of their time apart. One morning they were both out – Mr. Roberts was playing golf and Mrs. Roberts had gone into town to go shopping. Ashley & Laurie, naturally, decided it was makeover time for me. We were sitting out on the dock, which was in a quiet cove off the main body of the lake. They did my hair up in two French braids, did my nails and makeup, and put me in a bikini that had once belonged to Ashley's sister, who was as tall as me. Laurie was just tying the strings of the bikini top, at the back of my neck, when Mrs. Roberts pulled in the driveway. I started to run into the house but Ashley grabbed my arm. "You stay right here," she said. I was incredibly embarrassed when her mother walked out on the dock.

"Hello girls, who's your – " then she recognized me. "Oh -- Brian! I didn't recognize you for a minute. What's going on here?" She seemed genuinely taken aback.

"We're just having some fun, Mother," said Ashley. She was the only person I knew who called her mom "Mother." "Doesn't he look pretty?"

"Oh, well, I suppose you could …" she was very flustered. "Yes, well, are you coming in for lunch? I brought some salads from the deli."

I was going to change before lunch, but again Ashley stopped me. "You don't have to change a thing," she insisted. So we all went in and sat on the patio. I'd never been so embarrassed. I'd wrapped a towel around my bikini bottom but I still had on the top, over my nonexistent breasts. Mrs. Roberts couldn't keep from staring at me, and she couldn't keep up a conversation. Finally, the thing I'd really been dreading happened: her husband arrived.

Ted Roberts was an alcoholic and a lawyer for the big investment bank in our town. Ashley couldn't stand him and he was seldom around. He walked in without even greeting his wife, bent down and kissed Ashley on the cheek, then looked at me. He squinted his eyes. "What the hell is this?"

"It's Brian, Dad. Don't be a moron."

"What are you doing dressed like that?"

I started to mumble something about just playing a joke, when Ashley spoke up again.

"He's dressed the way he wants to be. Leave him alone."

"Jesus. Is it true, what I heard about you joining the cheerleaders?"

"The Cheerokees, actually," I said. I was regaining some of my nerve. What an asshole, I thought, feeling bad for both Ashley and her mother.

"And wearing a dress? What do your parents think about that?"

"Well, my mother …"

"Jesus," he repeated. "You look like a screaming faggot." Then he turned on his heel and walked out.

Oddly, his behavior made his wife leap to my defense. She reached over and put her hand on mine. "Never you mind, dear. I think it's splendid, your becoming a cheerleader."

"Cheerokee, Mother!"

After lunch we hung out on the dock, sunbathing and swimming and reading, till the evening. Laurie wouldn't let me get my hair, which was still braided, wet. Nobody felt like saying much, until Laurie spoke up close to the end of the afternoon.

"Well, I hate to say it, but that might just be a taste."

I waited for her to keep going. My stomach started to fall. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I mean there's probably a lot of guys at school who'll react the same way. You're going to get called every word for queer there is."

I knew she was right. I'd managed to put it out of my mind. School started in two days. We had a pep rally on Thursday and a game on Friday. There was no more putting it off: I had to wear my Cheerokee outfit to school, and march in public, both days. Once I marched in the pep rally, wearing the Cheerokee outfit, I'd be branded forever.

That night we went to the movies. For some reason, without discussing it, we all dressed alike: Cheerokee t-shirts, jeans, Dr. Scholl's, high ponytails. Laurie pulled out a white ribbon and tied it in a bow around my ponytail. She and Ashley wore ribbons just like mine. My pierced ears had healed and Laurie had given me a pair of gold hoops. We sat in the darkened theater with Laurie in the center, all 3 of us holding hands. On the way home we were laughing and chattering away. A storm had rolled in across the lake and thunder was crashing when we got back to the house. Mr. Roberts had gone back to town; Mrs. Roberts was closed up in her room. Without talking the 3 of us went to the bungalow, undressed, and climbed in bed together.

In the morning we woke up and the storm had moved off. It was a beautiful day. Our fabulous summer was really over.

 

The first three days of school went quickly, with new classes, a new locker combination to learn, and new teachers. We had a drill-team meeting on Wednesday morning – all the Cheerokees had first-period gym so they could go to meetings and hold morning practices. We went over the routine for the pep rally on Thursday: We would all march on stage in a crossover X, with each girl's name called as she marched out. Though I'd been practicing for months for that very moment, I still wasn't sure I could go through with it.

That night, after I showered and shaved my face and legs one more time, my mother and I went over my clothes. I had my marching outfit in a dry-cleaner bag, on a hanger. To school, on the day before gamedays, we had to wear jeans, Keds, our Cheerokee t-shirts, headbands and feathers. I was going to pick Laurie up and she was going to do my hair early in the morning.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, dear?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I'm feeling pretty anxious."

"Well, I wish I had some advice for you. You've made a decision, now it's time to go through with it regardless of the consequences."

"Gee, thanks. That helps."

She put her hand on my cheek and brushed my hair back. "Listen, Brian. One thing that I've always tried to teach you is to look beyond a person's appearance. What you wear matters less than who you are – right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"So now you're putting that theory to the test. You have very good friends on the squad, who'll give you all the support you need. Your real guy friends will stick by you. The others, well they weren't really your friends anyway."

"I guess you're right."

"And you look very pretty." She reached up again and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. Smiling, she said, "I've always wondered what it would be like to have a daughter. Now, in a small way, I'm getting to find out."

Hearing that made me feel kind of strange, but somehow it made me feel better, also. All three of the women I loved seem to like me better when I was feminine. It was confusing, but nice. I went to bed late and got maybe 2 hours of sleep that night.

 

The next day I got to Laurie's house at 7:20. The pep rally (which was mandatory – the entire school would be there) started at 8:30; we had to be there at 8. Laurie was in rollers when I got there, already in her marching outfit. She took the rollers out and plugged them back in to re-heat. Then she helped me change into my marching outfit: orange briefs, unitard zipped up in back, white socks and Keds. Then she rolled my hair, straight back off my face and under on the sides. We had agreed that I wouldn't wear makeup to school, just to the games, at least at first. I put in my gold hoop earrings. Laurie took my hair down and helped me put my headband on – layering my hair neatly over the headband, so it just showed on my forehead, was not easy, and Laurie said, "At some point you're going to have to learn to do all this yourself" – and then it was time to go. We both had our school clothes in overnight bags and our pompoms in big plastic garbage bags.

At school we parked by the gym entrance and hurried inside – I was glad that only a couple of people were hanging around outside, smoking cigarettes, and they didn't seem to notice me among the girls. We had a brief meeting to go over the routine, and the procedure for gameday on Friday. My heart started to race, my mouth went dry and my hands got clammy. I felt faint. Laurie looked at me with concern. Then it was time to walk over to the auditorium. We formed up in line, with our pompoms. Laurie and I weren't next to each other.

We got backstage and I felt nauseous. There was only a few minutes before we marched out. I was shaking and could hardly swallow. We were supposed to stay in line but Laurie slipped out and came over to me.

"Are you okay?"

"No," I said. I felt like crying. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Come here." She pulled me aside, out of line, further backstage. The other girls were eyeing us anxiously.

"Look Brian, I don't blame you for being scared. This is a big step, in front of the whole school. If you can't go through with it, don't."

"But I'll screw up the whole routine – "

"No you won't. Carol and I can fix it. It's just one less marcher."

She waited. I didn't say anything. I really didn't want to chicken out now, after all this hard work.

"But listen," she said. "I'm really, really proud of you. You're a great Cheerokee, and I love you for having the guts to do this. I promise you, we'll get through this first performance, and – "

Just then there was a burst of applause from out in the auditorium, the curtains swung back briefly and the cheerleaders came bouncing offstage, yelling "Roll Tribe!" and shaking their pompoms. Ashley spotted us and came running over. She was flushed and out of breath.

"You two look great!" she exclaimed. "Kiss for luck!"

And she kissed us both on the cheek and went trotting off. Laurie and I looked at each other and just started laughing. The weight had suddenly lifted from my chest; I felt like I could breathe again. Laurie checked my headband and my feather one more time. She kissed her fingers and put them to my lips. Drawing a deep breath, I squeezed her hand and we got back in line.

Just then the drums started pounding and a cheer went up from the audience. The Cheerokees were super-popular with the student body, even a lot of those who thought sports were dumb and couldn't stand the cheerleaders. The first introduction of the new year's squad was always a big deal. I knew there were plenty of people in the stands who knew I was on the squad; at the same time, this was my coming-out party (in more than one sense). The first marchers headed out, in two rows at opposite sides of the stage; each girl followed two beats later. I could hear Mrs. Mahan, at the podium, reading off the names of the girls on the squad.

Then I was on. Bouncing on my toes, swinging my hips and my pompoms as I'd learned for months, I headed out onstage. The lights were so bright I couldn't see a thing beyond the stage. Smiling, watching the eyes of the girl opposite me in the other line, I timed my steps so that she & I crossed in perfect synch. I remember thinking I was glad Laurie had pinned my hair back out of my face. We had to march out to the front edge of the stage, hear our name called, pirouette, and head back in formation downstage.

Then I heard my name. "Brian Stephens!"

I reached the edge of the stage, put my hands to my hips, and smiled out into the audience. I had the strangest feeling of watching myself; I felt completely outside my body.

Did I imagine it, or was there a momentary pause in the crowd noise, a slight gasp as people realized who I was and that I was a boy? Then there was a confused mix of noise: a lot of laughter, a lot of catcalls and whistles, but something else as well: a groundswell of cheering that drowned out the derision. I was getting an ovation! I turned on my sneaker-toe and marched back to my place in line as the roll-call went on. Laurie was after me, in the other line, and after her name was called (one of the prettiest girls on the squad, she got a louder cheer than I had), as she was marching pertly back to her spot, she caught my eye, smiled and winked.

We stood there, hands on hips and one leg bent. My heart was pounding and I reminded myself to keep smiling. I couldn't believe I'd gone through with it. For better or worse, I was now a Cheerokee.

 

Backstage, afterward, we all high-fived and whooped it up and hugged. Our first performance had gone well. There were a couple of flubs, and a few girls had missed their pompom cues, but the year was underway. Laurie gave me a big hug and, once again, whispered to me, "I am so proud of you."

Then we had to change into our school clothes and go to class. After all the anticipation, it was a letdown to have to take off my marching outfit for the first time. But I knew I would be wearing it plenty in the coming weeks. What I really hated was having to change in the boys' locker room. Inevitably, a couple of the football players were there when I walked in with my pompoms, in my skirt and sneakers.

"Stephens! Goddamn man, you look like a girl!" It was Mike Moody, an offensive tackle and one of the dumbest human beings I'd ever met.

"No shit," I said, trying to be casual. I walked over to my locker and started opening it. The quicker I could change into my jeans the better, I thought.

The pair of guys couldn't leave me alone. They crowded up to me, laughing and asking if I was really on the drill team. I think they were more mystified than anything.

"What the hell are doing, man?" Moody asked. "Why are you on the Cheerokees?"

I was struggling to undo my Cheerokee outfit, which zipped up in the back like a dress. I'd done it before, but their presence was making me nervous and clumsy. I stopped and looked at Mike. "Because I want to. Because I get to hang out with chicks all the time. Because I enjoy it."

My straightforward answers left them nonplussed momentarily. They shook their heads. "I never thought you were queer, Stephens," said Moody.

"I'm not. Laurie's my girlfriend – remember?" I had looked forward to that answer, I had to admit. I was still struggling to get the zipper.

Then the other guy, Alan Hunter – a wide receiver, a supremely handsome guy whose own girlfriend was a Cheerokee – did something extraordinary. Saying "Here, man – " he reached up and unzipped the zipper low enough so I could reach it easily, the way guys do for their girlfriends all the time (if they're lucky and their girlfriends are disrobing). I looked up at him and said "Thanks." Our eyes met, then he looked away.

"Man, you must be out of your mind to wear that dress," he said, shaking his head. Then they left, laughing and pointing back at me.

The rest of the day was a trial. Although I had on jeans, I was dressed in Cheerokee t-shirt and headband, like the other girls. My hair was still in big curls, from the hot rollers. In every class people clustered around me, asking if I was serious, if I was really going to march at games. I answered the same questions about a thousand times: yes, I was really on the squad; yes, I had to wear the same outfits as the girls; I'd tried out as a joke, but decided to go through with it; no, I wasn't gay and I wasn't getting a sex-change operation. The only good part of the day was that it seemed Laurie, or Ashley, or Carol, and one or two of the other Cheerokees or cheerleaders managed to walk with me between every class. That afternoon we had a quick after-school meeting. At the end, Carol, the co-captain, stood up.

"One other thing. Tomorrow will be the first day we wear our circle skirts to school. It's going to be a hard day for Brian. I want at least two of us to meet him at the door of each of his classes and walk him to class. We're all Cheerokees and we support each other. Okay?"

The girls started cheering and whistling and pounding me on the back and messing up my hair. I was so glad, right then, to be one of them.

 

The next morning I wasn't so sure. We had to wear our game-day outfits: white button-downs, orange circle skirts, and the usual Keds and white socks. Laurie & I had decided to wear our hair in ponytails so we wouldn't need to roll it until the afternoon, before the game. At the last minute she informed me of a rule I didn't know about: Cheerokees who wore their hair up in uniform always had to wear a white ribbon around their ponytail. No exception. Any infraction was a full 5 demerits. So I had to go to school wearing not only a skirt but a white bow in my hair. I felt humiliated, and didn't know how much of this I could take.

When we got to school, and parked in the main parking lot, we discovered that there were 2 welcoming parties: one, of three or four Cheerokees and cheerleaders, waiting to walk me inside; the other, of guys – the biggest rednecks in the school – waiting to jeer at the boy in a drill-team skirt. In the car, as we pulled up, Laurie put her hand on my knee.

"Ready?" she said.

"I guess."

"You look gorgeous. Don't let them get you down."

So we walked in a group, with me in the center, with half-a-dozen guys tagging along calling me sissy and queer and girly-boy and asking if they could look up my skirt, etc. etc. The girls gave them dirty looks and told them what squirrels and imbeciles they were. I made it to homeroom just in time and slid into a desk at the back of the room, not forgetting to smooth the rear of my skirt as I sat down, or to cross my legs tightly at the knees like a girl. Mr. Barnes, who was a vice-principal and the baseball coach, was calling roll. He got to my name.

"Mr. Stephens? Or is it Ms. Stephens?"

Laughter broke out. I blushed crimson, and my voice cracked slightly when I called out "Here."

The rest of the day pretty much went like that. Between every class a few girls escorted me, literally in a phalanx with me in between them, while a few knuckleheads jeered and whistled. It was a long day. At the same time, I got some compliments, from some of the students and even a couple of teachers. I noticed a couple of guys staring at me with what could only be envy, and I realized that I was probably doing something that other guys had longed to do. After fifth period, near the end of the day, I was walking by Mrs. Mahan's classroom when she stepped out and called me inside. She shut the door behind us.

"How's the first day going, Brian?"

I shook my head. "Tough. It's going to be a long year."

"Oh, don't be so sure. I think people will get tired of being jerks, after a while. And you look very nice. I'm glad to see you wore your ribbon."

"Thank Laurie. I didn't even know about that rule."

"Mmm – better read your Cheerokee handbook again," she said, smiling. I always felt comfortable around Mrs. Mahan – she was young, and non-judgmental, and easy to talk to. I'd heard rumors that she was gay, and I wondered if that was why she found it so easy to accept a boy in a drillteam skirt, with a white bow in his hair.

After class we had a couple of hours before we had to meet back at school to board the bus for the game. I went home for a while, then met Laurie and Carol over at Laurie's house. We all brought our marching outfits and changed there. Laurie's mother did our hair; she took my ribbon out and undid my ponytail and set my hair on medium-sized hot rollers for maximum curl. While my hair was up in rollers I did my makeup, with Laurie's help. I was starting to learn how to do it myself, but she still did my eyeliner and finished my mascara. I even wore foundation and blush! By now I'd been through this process of dressing as a girl many times, but tonight it was different: tonight we were marching in front of several thousand people, and everything had to be perfect. When we were done with our makeup, Laurie took the rollers out of my hair and carefully redid my headband & feather. I looked at myself in the mirror, and for the first time since all this had started I didn't recognize myself; the person in the mirror was a girl. A flat-chested girl, but clearly feminine nonetheless. Once we were all dressed Laurie's mother took our picture. I still have that photo; the 3 of us have our arms around each other, all in identical Cheerokee outfits. Laurie and I are in curls, looking like sisters, while Carol's long straight blonde hair is in pigtails. We're all laughing, and Laurie is looking up at me with sparkling eyes.

On the bus on the way to the game we all sang Warrior fight songs and did cheers. Laurie and I sat in the back. The cheerleaders and Cheerokees all rode together, on 2 buses, and we were hoping Ashley could sit with us but that didn't happen. When we got to the stadium we filed into the stands, our pompoms on our hips, and sat together in the drillteam section. Laurie and I were purposely not in line together; that was the co-captain's idea and we thought it was probably best. A lot of parents were taking pictures of their daughters as we marched in. I spotted my Mom, up in the stands, and she waved and I gave her a big smile. I was thrilled to be there, in the soft glow of the stadium lights, a real member of the Cheerokees. A lot of the embarrassment of the day at school had worn off. Plus, we had a halftime performance ahead.

It went splendidly. Like try-outs, I found that once I was marching I had to concentrate on the routines and on smiling, and I didn't have time to think about what I looked like or the fact that I was the lone guy. We marched for about 10 minutes, then lined up and did some pompom sequence moves. The drums were pounding. Finally we did our cancan number – one knee up, high kick, other knee up, high kick – and that was it. We had a couple of barely noticeable flubs but overall it was a terrific first performance.

  

  

  

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