The intense Arizona sun has just begun to peek over the mountains, glistening off of the black charter bus that is parked in front of the gymnasium. 7:00 AM. With their naked faces, bed heads, and suitcases dragging behind them, the groggy girls arrive at the school one by one. They pass their luggage to the white-haired, goofy looking bus driver, so he can store them in the compartment under the bus. Then the cheerleaders stand there, half asleep, with pillows in their arms and backpacks slung over their shoulders, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Parents stand by their daughters, irritated they had to wake up so early, but refused to miss the opportunity to say goodbye. Finally, the girls embrace their parents and turn around to wave before boarding the bus. 1, 2, 3... 32. Everyone is here. Within minutes, the bus stuffed full of girls pulls out of the school and starts its journey to Anaheim.

   Pairs of girls sit in each row, giddy with excitement and nervousness for the big national competition. Some instantly fall asleep against the window or on their neighbor, annoyed they were awakened before the sun. Others whisper and giggle to each other, gossiping about the latest high school drama. Who is dating who, who did what at the party last weekend. The outsiders roll their eyes and drift off to sleep, until they are jolted awake by the subconscious knowledge of their arrival at the hotel.

   Alarms blare throughout the dark hotel rooms at 4:30 AM. Snooze. Eyes slowly flicker open and mouths stretch wide to release a yawn. The sheets rustle and feet pad across the icy tile bathroom floors. The dim light flicks on and the long process of stage hair and make-up begins. The four roomies bend over the bathroom counter to closely inspect their faces. Brown eye shadow, black eye liner, black mascara, fake lashes, foundation, pink blush, red lipstick. Hairspray filled the room, choking all of its inhabitants. Hair is slicked up into ponytails on top of their heads and tied together with a huge, sparkly white bow. They pull on their uniforms and steal one last look in the mirror before grabbing their bags and walking out the door.
   Before they know it, the blue and gold mob is being guided onstage to give the best performance of their lives. The team gathers in a circle, clenching each other's hands so tight that their knuckles turn white. Some take a peek around the thick black curtain to glimpse at the enormous, intimidating crowd before them. Next up, Sandra Day O'Connor High School! Blinding lights, deafening applause, racing hearts. Chins high, eyes confident and bright, they all look identical as they march onto the mat hand-in-hand. All eyes focus on the 16 performers standing on the mat, waiting to see if they can pull it off, or completely fail. The adrenaline rushes, clenched fists become sweaty, every thought transfixes on this routine. They let their heads hang down to look at their feet, making sure they are in the right place. Then the music starts.

   The girls instantly snap their heads up with the widest smile they can manage on their face. Step-1-2-up-3-4-5-6-land-7-8. Tumbling passes from every corner, a flyer shoots up into the air from the center of the formation. Walk-1-2-3-4-5-6-slap-7-8. Please hit, please hit. All three pods fling their flyers into the air and catch them at the top of the stunt. The flyers all struggle to balance on top of their bases' hands while pulling their heel stretch, and they hit it for the first time ever. The three flyers flash a smile so big that the judges and the whole crowd can see. The bases toss them once more, only this time to catch them on their stomachs so they can front walkover onto the floor. The crowd roars.

   The girls maneuver around each other, arms never leaving their sides, to get to their spot for the jump series. Deep breath. 1-2-jump-3-4-back handspring-5-6-tuck-7-8. One, two, three touches, that's points and hope lost for each one. The music ends and so does the first part of the routine.

   The smiles are instantly wiped off of their faces from exhaustion, and instead, they struggle for every breath. There is no chance they will catch their breath either, especially during the cheer. Arms sharply hit each movement, words explode out of their mouths, using up all the air left in their lungs. The girls force their legs to carry them to the pyramid formation for the one-mans. Now only one base holds up the weight of their flyer without the help of another base. They push their muscles to the limit, every thought concentrated on keeping that flyer in the air. They succeed, and make it to the end of the cheer with no flaws.

   The music starts back up again, and the girls throw their bodies forward, using their last ounce of energy to try and stick their last tumbling pass. A few more touches and more discouragement. The pyramid is the last skill left before the dance, and then the misery would be over. The main flyer flips into the air, but the tangle of hands can not find her foot. The bases struggle to keep her up as they grip whatever part of her shoe they can reach. Barely save it.    For the last few seconds of the routine, all the girls quickly spread out to their spots for the ending dance. It is not difficult to plaster on phenomenal facial expressions because the hard parts are over.                  

Each and every girl puts everything they have into the last remaining seconds of their national performance. Their arms sharply hit every position in perfect synchronization, and as they hit their last pose, the team screams EAGLES! They spirit off stage, relieved it was over. The coach couldn't be more proud, and despite the few mistakes, everyone is sure they pulled it off.

   Last place. Hundreds of hours spent working on this routine for last place. An illegal stunt, nine touches on tumbling, and music technicalities deserves last place. The fact that all of the stunts hit does not matter. The other teams are just better, and that performance was not good enough.

   The bus ride back to Arizona is a lot quieter than the one to California. They are haunted by defeat. The thoughts of what could have been eats away at them. It's over now, nothing can be done to change the past. It is just something that will forever be a part of their lives, part of who they are.