CHAPTER ONE
AVERY
Does God have favorites?Because if He does, today I think it’s me. The trickle of applause grows to a thunder as each girl steps forward, and I still can’t believe my ears. I’m frozen butt-to-bleachers as a list of names and numbers is called from the stage that’s been arranged midfield.
“That’s us!” shrieks Larissa, who I only met at the beginning of training camp a few months ago. After just two days together, and the discovery of our mutual love for gobs of eel sauce on fried sushi, we basically became inseparable.
I smile at her, but still, I don’t move until she’s digging her acrylic-tipped nails into my arm and yanking me to my feet. “Avery, get up! We did it. We made the team!”
Someone slap me. I must be dreaming.
But when I approach the table and am handed a packet before being ushered into the next room, I know it’s finally happening. After five years of gruelingpractices to perfect my jump splits and pom precision, dumping dollar after dollar into technique classes and spray tans, I accomplished my longest-standing dream. Some girls set their sights on spotlights and stages, but I spent every football season of my childhood glued to the couch alongside my dad, pretending to like football. The only thing that pulled me through the games was watching the cheerleaders. After all the time and money my parents sank into lessons, competitions, and costumes, at last I have something to show them for it.
And then it hits me full force. Forget stages, I’m headed for the sidelines.
I did it. I’m a Vista City Kings NFL cheerleader. My stomach cartwheels at the idea of everyone seeing me in Kings’ blue. In the signature uniform.Finally.
Larissa and the ten other rookies chatter as quietly as they can muster as we traipse down concrete corridors behind a handful of Kings staff members and into some facility hidden adjacent to the stadium. It’s surreal to be this far into the complex, to see the intricacies of the place I was sure I’d only ever dream of exploring. Goosebumps mar my tanned skin, and I’m not sure if I have the chilly indoor air or my nerves to thank for that. Despite the excessive AC, late July in Vista City, California, is still beautiful, a nice reprieve from the oven that is currently my desert hometown out east. The weather here is half the reason I’ve stuck it out in the city so long.
“Look at them,” Larissa whispers.
I follow her gaze as we shuffle down the hall behind the rest of the group. The girls keep moving as Larissa and I stall for a moment next to a collage of frames. Each oneholds a photo from previous years’ Super Bowl wins. The most recent one is from five months back in February.
“You know, I may be biased, but I think the Kings have the hottest players,” Larissa says.
As I examine the photo, I have to agree. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter anymore. If we’re looking at players, it better not be our own. You can kiss them all goodbye right now.”
“I wish I could.”
I nudge her with my elbow.
“I’m kidding! We all read the same rules.No fraternizing with the players,” she recites. “Plus, I have a boyfriend now.”
“It’s official?”
“Officially official.”
We celebrate with silent happy-dances before noticing how far we’ve fallen behind. I grab her arm and pull her down the hall as half of our team turns a corner and disappears out of sight.
Larissa picks up her pace to catch up. “I've never understood why the cheerleaders and players can’t hang out. And the way the organization punishes the cheerleaders versus the players is such crap. They’d throw us away like tomorrow’s trash.”
I shush her, gluing a smile in place as a couple of our new teammates glance back at us over their shoulders. “Exactly. So keep it down. Did you see how many people were up for these spots? I hate to say it, but we’re replaceable.”
“It all feels a bit archaic.”
“It’s an attempt to avoid drama, distraction, liability…” Ishrug. “Their goal is to keep things professional and to maintain?—”
“A wholesome image. I know, I know,” Larissa finishes with a sigh. “Opticsareeverything.”
“It really is. And I’m sure they’ll have more to add when we go over our contracts.”
A huge smile breaks across my face.Our contracts.After all this time, in a few short minutes, I’ll be signing papers officially tying me to this team. Forget socializing with the players.
Moments later, we arrive in a large room of raked seating. Row after row of thick leather chairs line the space, all facing a little platform. I’ve seen this room in documentaries and clips online. It’s the strategy room. The place where the team comes together to review film and prepare for their next win. At least if you’re the Kings. They’re more prone to winning than anything else.
Our director—Judith Sumpter, an esteemed former Kings cheerleader and retired dancer—mounts the stage, the small crowd of polished, smiling women mirroring her own perfection. After congratulating us, she says, “As you know, the team is doing some revamping around here. We love our team’s history, but that doesn’t mean the facility does.” She stares out at us, and I giggle at what I’m assuming she meant to be a joke. “What I mean is, due to the unforeseen renovations and updates now taking place, we’ve been shuffled out of both our typical training and onboarding spaces. They’ve so graciously allowed us to use the strategy room for this year’s cheerleader onboarding. Which means I want it to look the exact same when we leave tonight, if not better.” She rounds a podium, a widesmile splaying across her face. “Consider yourselves lucky, ladies! Never in the history of the Vista City Kings Cheerleaders have they allowed us to infiltrate the team’s quarters. This is going to be our best year yet; I can feel it.”
As everyone claps, Larissa whispers, “I heard the ceiling of the cheer facility was almost caving in due to a leak. That’s why we’re here. Which sucks—obvi—but it’s like a blessing in disguise. At least for us. I can’t believe we’re in here right now.”
