Free So I'm a Double Threat (Double Threat Series) by Julie Prestsater Page A

a little weird though. And, maybe just a tad bit embarrassing.
    Though I have to say, “You know what though? When I’m my mom’s age, I wouldn’t mind my man having a slammin’ body like Danny’s.”
    The girls all nod in agreement.
    Keesh raises her eyebrows and says, “I know, right?” She walks over to my radio and turns the volume up a notch. I’m on my feet before the first verse of old school White Lines begins. Enough with all the crazy talk about our moms, we need to let off some steam.
    It’s not long before we’re all up dancing, doing booty bumps, calling each other out.
    This is so fun.
    My girls are all together.
    No bullshit.
    No guys.
    No bitchiness.
    Just us.
    Together, like old times.

Chapter Ten
    ––––––––
    D rill after drill, lap after lap, stretching, sprinting, I thought I’d die before we even get a break. These are tryouts, right? I didn’t realize the goal is to kill the potential athletes before we actually get a chance to play in a game. This is what they call “weeding out” the weak ones.
    Kill me now.
    Let me be a weak one.
    Maybe I will get cut. I don’t waste any time showing weakness. The thing I feared most actually happens. When I’m dribbling the ball down field, I trip right over it. There isn’t even anyone around me and down I go. As I’m trying to control the ball, my foot rolls right over it and I flip into a somersault. Could I look any more ridiculous?
    High school tryouts aren’t anything like I’ve experienced before. Someone please tell me what squat-thrusts or five thousand sit ups have to do with kicking a ball into a goal? Nothing, I say—not a damn thing. If I even survive until tomorrow’s practice, I may have to reevaluate my decision to take this abuse for an entire season. Maybe I should try out for something more like, the...the golf team. Don’t they get to ride around in a golf cart all day? I doubt Tiger Woods runs bleachers every day to train.
    “So what’d you think of the first day?” Keesha asks, without struggle. She’s not breathing hard at all. She didn’t even break a sweat.
    “My quads feel like they’re gonna freakin’ explode.” I practically choke on my words. My throat is on fire, and I still haven’t steadied my breath. “That’s what I think.”
    “Chill, Meggie, it’ll get better tomorrow.” She laughs and leans over to push me.
    Easy for her to say, she dribbles the ball around the field like an angel, graceful and flawless.
    “That’s if I make it to tomorrow. I doubt if I’ll even be able to freakin’ walk.”
    “I told you if we were going to take the fall off, we still needed to condition, but you didn’t listen.”
    We decided since it was going to be our first year of high school and we had a lot on our plates, we’d skip the fall season of community soccer. We planned on running every day to stay in shape. Guess who didn’t keep up their end of the bargain? Yup. Me. Keesha ran every day and I...well...I just thought about running, but I never did.
    “Yeah, yeah,” I tell her. “Thanks for reminding me.”
    Keesh and I finish packing up our soccer crap: shin guards, sweaty socks, water bottles, and cleats.
    Keesh stands up with ease and holds her hand out to me. “You ready?”
    I take her hand for support and she pulls my fat ass off the ground. My legs quiver as they adjust to being upright again. I can actually feel my heartbeat pulsing through my thighs.
    “Yeah, we should call Steph and tell her we’ll be a while...I think my grandma can walk faster than I can right now.”
    Keesh gives me a funny look. “Neither one of your grandmas are alive.”
    “Exactly,” I snicker.
    She shakes her head. “You’re sick.”
    Keesha and I walk to Steph’s after tryouts, to work on homework. Amy is, of course, out with Alex somewhere. I’m not sure where. She doesn’t tell us much. I still talk to Alex on the phone, but we never bring up Amy. We just talk about school, TV, music,