If I’m expelled, I’ll lose my scholarship.
No gymnastics.
No school.
No degree.
Just loads of disappointment from my parents.
Sweat dampens my palms. “Coach, I—”
She holds up a hand and I fall silent.
“Coach Collins has agreed to bypass a messy, embarrassing disciplinary hearingifyou agree to school sanctioned community service.”
I straighten, pulse thrumming. “What kind of community service?”
“Does it matter?” she asks, arching a brow.
No, no it does not.
“That’s where I come in,” Coach Sharpe says smoothly. “My mascot got a last-minute travel abroad opportunity and now I’ve got to find a new Wildcat before Saturday’s game.”
No. Freaking. Way.
“You can’t be serious.” I shake my head in disbelief. I’m literally the worst person for the job. “I hat— pranked the football team and now you want me to cheer them on as punishment? What kind of sense does that even make?”
The words slip out before I can stop them, earning me a severe look from Coach Miller.
“It’ll give you a chance to show your school spirit,” she says.
“Serving as the Waverly Wildcat is a big responsibility and a prestigious honor.” Coach Sharpe levels me with a hard stare. “The Wildcat is the face of this university. When our mascots graduate, we typically hold tryouts to find a replacement. Candidates go through an extensive vetting process and have to write an essay, face a panel of judges, and demonstrate physical aptitude, including fifty one-armed pushups. However, since we’re pressed for time, I’m willing to make an exception.”
Lucky me.
“With your tumbling and dancing skills, you’ll be a natural fit,” Coach Miller adds, though it’s unclear which one of us she’s trying to convince. “Think of it as an opportunity to bond with your peers and gain additional perspective.”
I slump in my chair as the reality of my situation hits me. “If I do this, I’ll still be eligible for the gymnastics season?”
Coach Miller nods.
“My regular mascot will return to campus at the end of the semester and will resume all Wildcat duties, including, God willing, any bowl or championship games.” Coach Sharpe smooths the front of his shirt. “It’s my understanding that your season doesn’t officially start until January.”
“What about team practices? Conditioning?” I ask, trying to fit the pieces together in my head.
“I’ve agreed to a certain level of flexibility.” Coach Miller flashes me a wry smile. “It won’t be easy, but you’re going to have to make it work. In addition to performing at all home games, the Wildcat travels with the football team, and also has an aggressive appearance schedule.”
Because unlike most schools where multiple students fill the role of mascot, at Waverly there’s only one.
And if I take this offer, it’s going to be me.
Coach Sharpe tilts his head thoughtfully. “Think you can handle the pressure?”
The sport of gymnastics is all about pressure. Pressure to be the best. Pressure to hold up under intense scrutiny. Pressure to deliver a perfect freaking score. To be a sweet, docile, bow-wearing doll. So, yeah, I’m pretty sure I can handle tumbling on the dugout or the sideline or whatever they call it while Parker trots around in those tight little white pants playing keep away.
I square my shoulders and force myself to meet his stare. “It won’t be a problem.”
“So you’ll do it?” he asks.
