Coming from Behind

It was hard to be youngest. Rachel was the last to give up cartoons, teased out of Barney in sibling ridicule, and then her beloved Dora, by her older brother and sister. She was in preschool when they were in elementary, and the last to learn to write her name and achieve the other milestones of childhood.

Now the others were teenagers, and Rachel was putting away her dolls for the last time. She loved daydreaming, riding her sleek, pink electric motor scooter and hanging with her best friend. She wasn’t interested in sports, while the others excelled: Corrin in softball and Reid in football and swimming.

“Rachel, you’ve got to do something to get moving!” her parents prodded the languid preteen. But Rachel was unconcerned. Computer games and television were much more enticing. Then a friend’s mother suggested Rachel join her daughter in cheer-leader training. She perked up, having learned to do cartwheels in previous gymnastic classes. She loved the training, even perfecting her backflip to what she hoped was qualifying status to be chosen as 7th grade cheer leader for the upcoming year.

Rachel couldn’t believe it when she didn’t make the team, while much less qualified girls made it. Later, the leaders confessed there was a mix-up in the scorecard numbers, but nothing was ever rectified. Her training partner made it, thanks to extra-training lessons her mother secretly arranged with the coach, with whom it turned out she was romantically involved.

Rachel’s parents signed her up with a community cheerleading group. This would be good training for 8th grade cheer leading possibilities, besides which they would participate in competitions around the country. This soon became ridiculously expensive, and Rachel was crushed to drop out.

Her P.E. teacher, noticing Rachel’s ability to run, urged the leggy youngster to try out for cross-country running. Rachel wasn’t enthusiastic about it, but was buoyed and surprised when she made the team. Coming in from practice, she grumbled a bit, but her mother could see a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

A week or so ago the 12-year-old came in #20 out of 125 girls in a cross-country race. Another race was coming up, and her parents promised her the trampoline she’d been begging for (to practice cheers), if she made it to the top 10 this time. For once, her siblings were on her side, and pressed for the top 15. When her folks saw at the halfway mark in the race that Rachel was #2, her father said, “We may have to get her that trampoline.” Out of 150 girls, Rachel placed #14. I think my granddaughter’s going to get her trampoline. Way to go, Sweetheart!