Tenth grade. Cheerleader tryouts.
White polo shirt, green & white striped shorts,
hours of practice.
I was a shoe-in.
Five years later I’d be accepted into the prestigious
Juilliard School
on the strength of my dance audition,
but for the cheerleader tryout judges,
it was popularity that counted.
I cried for a week when I got the verdict.
The biggest disappointment of my life til then.
The year I was at Juilliard I got a card in the mail
from one of the judges, confessing that
I should have made the cut.
By then, who cared anymore?
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