Bypassing the crowd, I made my way into the cheerleading team’s facility and took several deep breaths.

“Good morning, Miss Johnson!” The security guard tipped his hat to me. “Ready to cheer on our boys for another winning season?”

Nope. Last year was officially my limit.

“We’ll see!” I swiped my card and pushed the doors open.

A few of my teammates were stretching along the mirrored wall, getting ready for tonight’s event.

It never ceased to amaze me how I’d spent hundreds of hours with them over the years, and they never said a single word to me outside of practice.

They made it a point to hang out with each other as a group and never tell me, so I held back my typical, “Hopefully, this year we’ll hang out some?”

I was over them.

Walking right past their session, I smoothed my pants and headed right into Coach Tina’s office.

As usual, she was dancing around with her headphones on, as if no one was watching.

Dressed in a revealing pink tank top that showed off her double D breasts—along with leggings that revealed “the new butt [my] husband bought,” she kept her back turned as she rehearsed what looked like stripper choreography.

I waited for her to complete a few more twerks against the wall before gently tapping my hand against her desk.

“Huh? What?” She immediately stopped and turned around.

“Well, well, well. It’s about time that you showed up for check-in, Courtney.” She took off her headphones. “Do you need the seamstress to make any post-summer adjustments to your uniform tonight?”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “I’m not here for check-in. I came here to tell you that I won’t be cheering at all this season.” I pulled the uniforms out of my bag and placed them on her desk. “I was named editor-in-chief of The Pitt News this morning, so …”

“So, what?”

“So, since Journalism is my major and my ultimate dream in life, I think it makes more sense for me to devote my time on that instead of cheerleading this year.”

She placed a hand against her chest, looking as if I’d wounded her somehow.

Expecting that, I mentally rewound the speech I’d wanted to give since my freshman year.

“It’s been a honor learning under you, serving as a support system for the basketball, soccer, and football teams while they hit major milestones, and—” I paused before I could lie and say, “making new friends.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “It’s truly been an honor being on the team.”

“Have a seat, Courtney.”

“Actually, I need to get back to lower campus ASAP, so I can get ready for my first staff meeting. I’m treating the entire team to pizza and nachos.”

“Put your ass in that seat. Now.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I obliged.

“You know, you’ve always struck me as a very intelligent young woman,” she said, pushing a bowl of Skittles towards me. “You’re always early for practice, willing to help with things behind the scenes, and you once saved me from ordering a banner in the final hour that said, ‘No Panthers, No!’”

“It never hurts to double-check for typos.”

“But you also strike me as quite aloof and dumb as hell,” she said.

“Um, what?”

“I’ve witnessed multiple athletes attempting to get your attention during the games—football and basketball players, and you just stand there and act as if they’re not talking to you.”

No, I act as if I don’t want to be another notch in their bedpost. “What does that have to do with anything, Coach?”

“Journalism is a dying field, Courtney,” she said. “I know it’s 2009 now, but I give it four more years and everything will be one-hundred-percent digital. People won’t care what some writer or news anchor has to say; they’ll want to figure out the truth for themselves via YouTube or podcasts or something.”

“I’m going into sports journalism.”

“Ha! That’s even worse.” She shook her head. “The last thing my husband and his friends care about when they’re watching the game is what some pretty blond with overdone makeup has to say about it. Those women are mere ornaments for the sideline, and no one likes them.”

I blinked, unsure if she was serious or not.

“Cheerleading opens real doors in life,” she said, leaning forward. Then she lowered her voice. “I met my husband, Coach Whitten of our beloved football team, during my senior year at a Delta Psi party. Everyone else had to pay six dollars to get in, but not this girl. Do you want to know why?”

I shook my head. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’d like to know why.”

“It was because I was a cheerleader,” she said. “He used to flirt with me all the time from the sidelines during his games. So, when he saw me on that front porch of his house—decked out in beautiful makeup and shorts so short that they were practically panties, he grabbed me by the hands and pulled me right inside.”

I leaned back in my seat, wondering how the hell a ‘Happily Ever After’ could be spun from this.

“He took me right up to his bedroom, and I gave him the best blowjob that he’d ever gotten in his life,” she said. “It was so good, because I swallowed and everything, that six weeks later, he asked me to marry him, while I was in the middle of giving him my fifth encore.”

“Um, Coach …”

“Just think about it.” She interrupted me. “If I’d never been a cheerleader, I would’ve paid the six dollar entry fee with the rest of the losers, and I wouldn’t have this cushy job at my husband’s school that I love and adore. Cheerleading opened that door for me, Courtney. Don’t you think cheerleading can open a similar door for you?”

I remained silent.

I had no idea how to respond to that.

“Anyway, glad that we have that out of the way.” She pulled a binder from a drawer and slammed it onto the desk. “Regardless of what your major is, you’re here on a cheerleading scholarship. That’s what pays your tuition, and you’re not allowed to quit the team unless you have a medical emergency or get cleared by me. As you’ll recall, Stephanie Beamer broke her legs, and I still made her wave those pom poms from the sidelines last year.”

“Coach, please.” I looked into her eyes. “My heart honestly isn’t in this sport anymore, and I fell out of love with it two years ago.”

“A passion for cheerleading comes and goes. You’ll feel it again, just ask one of your teammates.”

“No one on this team even talks to me.” My voice cracked. “No one.”

“Come again?”

“I’ve given my all because of the scholarship, but I’ve been miserable for a very long time. It’s not like there aren’t tons of girls vying for a spot to tryout, and it’s not like any of my teammates will miss me when I’m gone.”

She held up her hand, silencing me.

For several seconds, she stared at me, not saying a word.

“You’ll cheer tonight at the official bonfire,” she said. “Then you’ll cheer again at the first game of the season. Those events have always been non-negotiable, and your scholarship says so. After that, you can have a break until the homecoming game and then again until senior night, since I’ve already bought the ‘Most Valuable Cheer’ trophy for you.”