“Once or twice,” Rachel said, leaning on a paintbrush like it was a scepter. “But I made a conscious choice to spare the world mysuperior talent. Instead, I’m here to corrupt you, and maybe lure you to the dark side, if you’re very lucky.”
I groaned, dragging a brush through the purple paint, which promptly splattered across my fingers. The underlayer of violet in my blonde hair caught the light where it draped over my shoulder, looking like a tiny rebellion. “I feel… ridiculous.”
“Good!” Rachel chirped. “Embrace the ridiculous. This is homecoming prep, not the Nobel Prize. The only mandatory requirement we have to meet here is glitter, glitter, and more glitter.”
We moved to the largest banner, and Rachel immediately launched into thematic instructions. “Okay, listen up! Banner one: Team Spirit meets Apocalypse Chic. Banner two: Football Players’ Greatest Hits—jersey numbers, faces optional butrecommended for chaos effect. Banner three: Maximum Purple. We do not negotiate with dullness. Everyone contributes.”
I squinted at her. “Faces on the banner? Really?”
“Absolutely,” she said, swooping dramatically toward the gym floor like a general surveying her troops. “Maria’s over there painting hers all serene and vaguely ethereal? Perfect. We’ll go cartoony with yours. Exaggerate everything. Big eyes, huge hair, crazy expressions. It’s empowering and humiliating at the same time—like,exactlythe mood we’re going for.”
I blinked at her, halfway mortified, halfway thrilled. “Empowering and humiliating?”
“Yup,” Rachel said, smearing glitter over a giant lightning bolt she was painting. “It’s the modern girl-power aesthetic. Also doubles as revenge therapy if any of these bitches try their nonsense.” She shot a glare toward Sharon, who had the audacity to hover near our corner. “Hands off. I see you plotting, and Iwillbanish you to the corner of eternal shame.”
I laughed again, shaking my head, but my fingers were starting to get messy in a good way. I realized I hadn’t thought about work, homework, or the guys since Rachel dragged me here. The knot in my chest, the weight from earlier—it was starting to soften.
Rachel, of course, noticed. She moved behind me, pulling my hair back and braiding it in swift motions. “Look at that. Subtle rebellion, very chic. Secret weapon still engaged. And honestly, it’s distracting in a powerful way—anyone who notices it immediately fears you. Metaphorically speaking. Unless it’s Sharon. She’ll probably still be annoying.”
The fact she wouldn’t let up on Sharon was starting to sound personal, but since I was enjoying it… I just snorted. “I think I kind of… like it.”
“Good. That’s the point,” she said, hopping onto a bench for a better vantage point. “Banner painting is serious business. It’sabout the dramatic flair. I call it The Full Package. Everyone gets a turn. You, me, random football players who don’t even know why they’re here—especially them. It’s teamwork. And by teamwork, I meanwe make them dance to our chaos. Watch and learn.”
I looked around the gym: Maria was calmly painting her own banner, Patty was leaning in a bored-but-suspicious way, Sharon kept glancing at us like she wanted to insert herself, and Rachel was already barking instructions at some bewildered football players. I didn’t know all of them, but I’d seen some of them around.
Somehow, through all of it, I felt a little lighter. Every splash of paint, every streak of glitter, every absurd instruction Cheer Sergeant Rachel shouted was sandpapering down the no-good-very-bad day I’d been carrying. I could breathe a little. Laugh a little. Survive a little.
“You’re relentless,” I said, brushing some purple on the edges of a lightning bolt.
“Relentless is my middle name,” Rachel said with a grin. “Well, actually it’s Anne, but we don’t talk about that. Focus on the banner, Frankie. Paint like your soul depends on it. The world is watching, whether it knows it or not.”
I dipped my brush in more paint, my hand shaking slightly with excitement—or terror, I couldn’t tell anymore. And Rachel kept going, unstoppable, hilarious, and somehowexactlywhat I needed. The banners might end up ridiculous. I might end up ridiculous. But right now? Surviving—and maybe even enjoying—the chaos felt like the first real breath I’d taken all day.
By the time my section of the banner was done, I was a walking mess of purple streaks, glitter specks, and paint-smeared hands.
I stood back, looking at it and actually kind of… good.
“I… think I feel better,” I admitted, brushing a streak of paint off my cheek. “Thanks, Rachel. Really. But I should go. I need to go home, feed the cats, clean up… you know. Life.”
Rachel cocked her head, eyes sharp, and crossed her arms. “Promise me you’ll text me once you’re home? So I know you survived my glitter apocalypse?”
I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth lifted. “Fine. Promise.”
She held out her pinky. “Pinky swear.”
I looped my finger with hers. “Pinky swear.”
She grinned, satisfied, and gave me a solemn nod as though she’d imparted the last of her wisdom for the day. “Go then, gladiator. Conquer the domestic front. But remember: glitter power is always with you.”
I laughed and shook my head, heading for my locker to swap out my bag and clean up before heading home. When I opened it, I froze.
Inside was a single rose, fresh and perfectly pink, and a small note tucked into the petals. I hadn’t had one of these in a while. My stomach flipped just a little as I unfolded the note.
“For you—because some days need a little reminder that someone notices. Hope this makes you smile.”
I couldn’t help it—I did. A genuine, soft smile that crept all the way to my eyes. It felt… simple, thoughtful, warm. I slipped the rose into my bag, tucking the note carefully against my books, and for the first time all day, everything felt a little lighter.
With a deep breath, I swung my backpack over my shoulder, pinky-sworn promise to Rachel firmly in mind, and left the gym, glitter, paint, and all, feeling like maybe, just maybe, the day wasn’t quite so bad after all.
