Jenna 10.
“It was a hell of a game. I hate how they cut off coverage during halftime. And they don’t show nearly enough of the cheering squad.
” I listened to my boyfriend with a smile as he bitched about today’s game.
“I don’t want to listen to those asswipes do their commentary. I wanna see my woman do her thing.”
“Your woman’s thing is herding rambunctious cats.”
His voice drops to a purr, my nipples pebbling in my bra at the tone. “And she does it so well. My woman does a lot of things really, really well.”
“I excel at crosswords.” His laughter is like a cure all. Whatever ails me, Andres Abbott is the cure. “Oh, wait a second.” I pull my phone from my ear and stare at the screen. There’s an emergency alert from the university’s messaging system. “Fuck!” I scream, scrambling to my feet.
“Jenna? What is it?”
“I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”
“Jen—”
“I’m ok, I’m not hurt. I’ll call you when I can.
” I hang up without waiting for his reply, locking my office and rushing down the hall.
Through the maze of corridors, I finally break free into the main concourse and run around the outer ring of the stadium.
It’s organized pandemonium. About 7 people are in handcuffs, including three of my cheerleaders and Edee Shingleton.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask nobody in particular. An officer turns to me with a stony face and I swallow hard.
“Who are you?”
“Jenna Nemac, I’m the cheering coach. Those three,” I point to Shaye, Jillian, and Lindsay, “belong to me. What happened?”
“LYNDELL! EDEE!” I spin around, my jaw dropping as Tyrone Wicawiil rushes into the fray. I listen as the police, Ty, and Edee talk frantically, piecing together a little of what has transpired. A pit yawns in my stomach, despair clawing its way up my throat.
“May I speak to those girls?” I point a menacing finger at my cheerleaders.
The police officer gives me a curt nod and I waste no time stomping over to them.
Jillian and Lindsay look terrified, and it doesn’t improve when they see my thundering expression.
Shaye is scared as well, but she’s trying to hide it behind a mask of indifference.
“Coach—” I hold up a hand to silence Lindsay.
“What did you do?” I hiss, staring down at them as they sit on the concrete, hands cuffed behind their backs.
“We didn’t do anything! It was all that fucking bitch Edee and that retard—”
“SHUT UP!” I bark, startling the girls, a few people nearby and myself.
I have never raised my voice like that before to anyone.
Of course, I’ve never felt this level of rage before either.
That despair is slowly turning into hot, sticky fury.
The three of them show no remorse, only fear for their own future.
Never mind the future and physical and mental well-being of another human being.
“You have made a mockery of this squad, the university, and yourselves. You should be ashamed of what you’ve done, who you have become.
Listen to me and listen well,” I squat down so I’m eye level with them, my hard stare darting between each of them, “I am going to go line by line through the university by-laws and code of conduct, as well as that of the cheering squad and I am going to find a way to remove all three of you…permanently. You wanna play stupid fucking games? Here’s your stupid fucking prizes. Enjoy jail!”
I stand up, ignoring Jillian’s cries for me to stop and help.
I am not lifting a fucking finger to save those fucking cunts.
They have been nothing but petty, immature, skanks since they arrived their freshman years.
But this takes the cake. Shaye physically assaulted someone while the other two cheered her on.
They are just as guilty in my book. Lyndell is like sunshine and a beloved member of the athletic department, not to mention the university at large.
Everyone knows Lyndell Wicawiil and it has nothing to do with his ex-quarterback and current mascot brother, Tyrone.
And what they did and allowed to happen to Edee?
They have no place on my squad and I am going to fight tooth and nail to see they are excised like the malignant tumor they are.
In my office, I wipe away the tears that fall. I log in to my computer and pull up the conduct code and bylaws. Hitting a button on my office phone, I wait for Brody to answer.
“Kinda busy, Jenna—”
“I know, Brody, I’m sorry, but I need the footage from the attack.”
There’s a pause, then, “Why?”
“Because I’m starting a fantasy assault league and I’m interested in Shaye for my team.” I snark, then shake my head. “I want to see for myself their level of involvement so I can file the proper grievances with the board.”
“Fantasy assault league sounds badass,” he mutters. “I’ll have Eric send it to you as soon as he can.”
“Thanks.” We hang up and I go back to reading line by line.
About twenty minutes later, I’m fighting the urge to puke as I watch the footage for the second time.
Good Lord! Shaye is off the squad, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be on very thin ice and probation with the university, if not expulsion.
Unfortunately, I can’t kick Jillian and Lindsay out, but I can place them on conduct probation with a very tight leash.
I spend the next half hour filing the proper paperwork online and submit for the board’s approval.
Given the circumstances, I’m sure they are all aware of what’s happened and ready for an emergency meeting to discuss the fallout and repercussions.
I’m not satisfied, my bloodlust still thrumming through my veins, but it’s a start. Between what they did to Daya and the other little things they’ve done that I’ve documented, they don’t stand a chance. Feels good to cull the herd, so to speak.
I get an alert and check my phone. “Oh, thank God!” Lyndell has been found, he’s safe and unharmed. Physically, at least. Bile rises up my throat thinking about what I saw on that video. Poor Lyndell. I hate this for him, Ty, and Edee. I hate this for us all.
Done with the night, I shut off my computer and close out my office. Tears in my eyes, the weight of the season bearing down on me, I drag my feet to Brandon’s office, needing my friends since my boyfriend was hundreds of miles away. I quickly send Andres a text message.
Prickles: A few of my cheerleaders were involved in an altercation. They attacked Lyndell and Edee Shingleton. Lyn and Edee are ok. But everyone’s shook up. I’m heading to Brandon’s office to drown my sorrows.
Andres: Baby, I’m so sorry. I wish I was with you, to hold you. I hate that I’m so far away. Be careful, and call or text me to let me know you’ve made it home safely.
Prickles: I wish you were here too. I’ll update you later.
In Brandon’s office, I find Oscar and Brandon canoodling, and it warms my heart to see the two of them together.
My stomach clenches though, wishing Andres was here, missing him so acutely it’s like an open wound in my gut.
Bran plays into my hand perfectly, and I decide drowning my sorrow in board games sounds better, and healthier than alcohol.
On my way to Brandon’s, I let Andres know I’ll be at Brandon’s most of the night.
I’m setting up the game Risk on Brandon’s dining table when his doorbell rings. Oscar is getting drinks ready and some snacks. World domination always makes me a little hangry.
“Uh, Jenna? Door’s for you?”
“What?” I glance up but can’t see the front door from here. I peek around the corner and find a young man at the door with bags in his hands. “I didn’t order anything.”
The delivery driver shifts the bags and stares at a slip of paper. “Never conquer lands on an empty stomach. Your future.” Brandon, Oscar and I laugh at the way his young face screws up uncomfortably as he reads the note from Andres.
“Thank you.” I go to my bag on the little table in the foyer, but the driver waves me off.
“I’ve already been given a tip.”
“Well, let me give you—”
“A very generous tip. Have a good night…conquering.” Brandon helps me grab the bags and carry them inside.
I make sure the young man gets into his car and drives away before shutting the door.
In the kitchen, they’ve already started taking out containers of food and the smells make my mouth water and my stomach growl.
“Geez, your future knows how to order take out.” Brandon teases me with an expectant look.
I shrug, not wanting to tell him who my future is.
He’ll learn soon enough, I’m sure. While I initially didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think it would last with Andres, figuring he’d get bored quickly, now I don’t because I want to keep him to myself.
I don’t want to share him with the world yet.
I grab my phone and my plate and sit at the dining table, my army spread out before me.
I take a bite of the delicious smothered chicken and open the text thread with Andres.
Prickles: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” Thank you for giving me a reason to dream again.