Seven
“Honey Bees, I wanna hear you scream!” I shouted while gripping my pom-poms tightly.
My toes curled as I bounced excitedly on the balls of my feet. The other cheerleaders followed suit, whooping and hollering to encourage the crowd to join in.
“Listen up, Rams, this is our floor, and you’re going to watch us score!”
A loud buzzer blared through the speakers, causing them to release a crackle of static as the numbers on the scoreboard flicked to zeros.
The floodlights surrounding the field whirred to life, each set illuminating one by one.
I lifted my hand to my forehead, blocking the fluorescent beams from reaching my eyes as I peered out at the bleachers.
I couldn’t see anyone, but I knew they were all out there watching us like goldfish trapped in a glass bowl.
The sun was swallowed by the horizon as I heard—
Hut, hut!
And just like that, the game had started. The score went back and forth.
The Oakton Rams led by three points in the first quarter, but by the second quarter, the Honey Bees surpassed them, all thanks to Mr. Allstar Quarterback himself—Ryan Connors.
By halftime, both teams were tied at six which honestly didn’t mean shit to me.
I still barely understood how the fucking game worked no matter how many times I watched it.
The team scattered as the flood lights dimmed, signaling the start of the halftime show.
For most of the game, instead of watching two dozen boys pummel each other while scrambling to touch a ball, I was actually more focused on watching the Rams cheerleaders—and not to brag or anything, but we were definitely better.
More energy.
More power.
Better routines.
Overall, cuter outfits. It was a satisfying realization, but the knots in my stomach refused to go away.
Ever felt seasick while on dry land? That was me right now.
The sharp, metallic click of the overhead spotlight turning on startled me as I tensed my shoulders, my muscles locking up.
Placing my hand on my stomach, I tried to steady the quick succession of shallow breaths escaping my lips.
I looked up at the night sky, the darkness casting a looming shadow over us now that the sun had vanished.
Turning my attention back to the Rams cheerleaders, I watched them perform, my eyes tracing each of their movements.
Just as I had assumed, their routine was nothing more than average.
I glanced behind me, shooting Meredith a knowing look as we prepared to take their place in the center of the field.
“All right ladies, let’s show these people what we are made of and give them the best damn cheer of the night!” I shouted, attempting to bury the anxiety that was creeping its way up my spine.
In response, I received a few smirks, a couple graceful flicks of hair, and one exaggerated twirl. We formed three groups, each containing four members: one flyer, two bases, and one spotter. Our bodies moved like a well-oiled machine as the luminescent glow of the flood lights poured over us.
“We sting with pride; we fight with ease. You can’t beat the Honey Bees!”
One by one, each group executed a full basket toss, the anticipation buzzing in the air.
My team, positioned in the center, was first. Emory, Camryn, and Kalani launched me high into the air while I performed a double barrel roll, followed by a scissor kick before collapsing safely into their arms. To the right, Camilla, Kendall, and Bella propelled Meredith as she completed the same stunt, her smile gleaming as she soared and seamlessly transitioned into a full twist. The final group on the left consisted of Luna, Rowan, and Valentina, with Kendra as the flyer, whose enthusiasm lit up the field as she flew through the air.
After we all nailed our landings, the two freshmen on the far ends showcased their tumbling skills by doing a running round-off, back handspring, switching sides to join opposite groups.
Meredith and Kendra followed them, performing the more advanced layout tumble as they drove their hips over their heads and kept their legs straight before flowing into a backflip.
“Let’s go, Honey Bees, let’s go!” Clap. Clap. “Let’s go, Honey Bees, let’s go!” Clap. Clap.
The crowd joined in our chant, their excitement palpable.
We all executed a jump split toe touch, then a synchronized high V with our arms before regrouping, with the main flyers being lifted back into the air.
Meredith and Kendra struck a dramatic heel stretch, while me, being in the center, held a high split lift.
The three of us were then thrust higher, as the bases gripped our ankles, supporting us as we transitioned into an elevator stunt that glided into a bow and arrow pose where we extended our left legs above our heads, while placing the corresponding arm at a ninety-degree angle in front of our knees to resemble that of an archer.
The audience erupted in cheers.
To dismount, we each performed a pretty girl basket one by one before our feet met solid earth again.
I gasped for air, absorbing their applause as I wiped the sweat pooling on my brow with my fingertips.
It was over. Squinting, I scanned the crowd, eager to read their reactions.
Did they like it? Before I could see their faces clearly, Ryan rushed over, followed by half the football team, all singing our praises, their admiration further boosting the already overinflated egos of many of the girls.
“Way to go, ladies!” Ryan applauded. “Clarke, did you choreograph that routine?”
I wanted to tell him to eat shit, but we were only a few feet away from the bleachers meaning the entire crowd would hear me yell at the star quarterback.
“Mmhmm.”
“Cool.”
I nodded and tried to step around him to grab my water bottle, but before I could take two steps, he shifted to the side, blocking my path. I blinked slowly, meeting his gaze, and let out a measured breath while biting down on my tongue.
“Yes?”
He smirked at me. “I’ll see you at the party later tonight, right?”
“Yep.”
The football coach ushered the team back onto the field as the second half of the game began.
My eyelids started to get heavy as I tried to seem interested in a bunch of overly padded dudes fighting over a lemon-shaped ball and occasionally piling on top of each other to form a group hug.
At the end of the night, Honey Bees won eight to six.
The plan that I came up with to trick my parents in order to attend the party was something straight out of a teenage rom-com.
Meredith told her parents she was hanging out at my house, and I gave my parents the exact same spiel.
Luckily enough, it wasn’t hard to fool them.
I mean, they still thought I was the same innocent, book-savvy, carbon copy of Jessie.
I even drove my car around the corner to give the impression that I had driven to Meredith’s before calling an Uber to take me the rest of the way to solidify the whole lie.
After hearing about the beer bong, there was no way I was gonna drive myself home. Not to say that I would get wasted…but better safe than sorry. Eight minutes into the Uber ride, Kendra made up some lame excuse about how she couldn’t come.
Wow, so unpredictable…
When the taxi pulled up to Mason’s house, I nearly puked.
It was huge. Like, yeah, my house was a pretty decent size, but the size of his house was insane .
It looked like something straight out of an Architectural Digest magazine with a rustic wooden interior and windows plastered all around its walls.
I texted Meredith as soon as I arrived, asking if she was there yet.
I lifted the strap of my purse up and over my shoulder, shoving my hand inside and rummaging around for some cash.
My fingers came into contact with the leather fabric of my journal as I sighed in relief, its presence offering me some kind of peace.
I stared at my phone in anticipation, hoping it would light up any second, but it didn’t.
My leg bounced nervously while I dialed Meredith’s number.
It went straight to voicemail.
Cracking my knuckles, I tried to ease my nerves as I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, trying to keep my anxiety at bay. As much as I wanted to walk in with Meredith, it didn’t look like that was going to happen.
Just do it, Clarke.
I handed the money to the Uber driver and thanked him as I sucked in one more deep breath throwing open the car door. The wind caressed my skin, eliciting a shiver to quake my entire body as I walked up to the house. Instinctively, I reached out to press the doorbell before my movements stuttered.
“What am I doing? Who uses a doorbell at a party?”
I let out a sigh of frustration. Why isn’t my brain cooperating right now?
I moved my hand to the doorknob, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it.
Aside from tonight, I had only been to three parties and they were all the same—horny teens hooking up in every corner, empty beer bottles scattered across the floor, and music roaring so loudly it could rupture eardrums from two houses away.
My dread was so intense it practically seeped from my pores. I reeked of trepidation.
“It’s not that deep, Clarke. It’s just a party so open the damn door,” I muttered to myself.
Just do it.
Ha. Wow, who knew the Nike slogan would be my mantra for tonight?
While I was attempting to muster up the courage to go inside, the door flung open, and none other than Ryan Connors was standing in front of me.
“Clarke! It’s about damn time you showed up!” he yelled over the deafening music in the background. Turning his back to me, he shouted to the masses. “Hey, everyone, Clarke’s here!”
Well, shit.
I waved awkwardly. “Hi.”
“Get the fuck in here! Come on!” Ryan ushered me inside, putting his arm around my waist.