The Safety and the Secret (The Vista City Kings #2)

Chapter 1

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 grueling practices 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 one holds 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…” I shrug. “Their goal is to keep things professional and to maintain—”

“A wholesome image. I know, I know,” Larissa finishes with a sigh. “Optics are everything.”

“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 wide smile 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.”

I’m also a little shocked they’re allowing us to use the players’ spaces, but I’m grateful.

This season’s cheer team has only just been chosen, and already I feel as though I’m part of something so much bigger than myself—something significant.

Of all my dance achievements, the rush of today’s win far outshines any of them.

“The VCKC is proud of our streamlined onboarding process, which means we should be able to complete all procedures today.” Judith glows, and a few girls hoot.

Good. The sooner we get the boring stuff out of the way, the sooner I can call and gush to my mom. She’s going to die when she hears the news, maybe from shock, maybe from excitement, who’s to say?

Judith continues, “In a few short moments, we’ll be going over the team expectations.

Starting today, every single one of you is an ambassador for the Kings.

” She presses her lips into a little smile as the girls clap.

Gesturing to our choreographer, she adds, “Stacey and I will read off the principles that each of you embodies so well. Integrity, spirit, and your ability to maintain professionalism both on and off the field, among others. All of you are such bright, well-rounded women, and we’re proud to have you as this year’s official Vista City Kings cheerleaders.

Please give us a few moments while we wait for HR to join us. ”

A happy chitter blossoms through the space as Judith steps aside.

I glance around at who I’m hoping will be my new best friends, vowing to myself that this is it.

I will be exactly what they see in me, what they see in all these girls.

I know the VCKC’s creed well after all these years.

If a beautiful, determined, responsible woman is what they want, then that’s me.

Because if I’m anything else—whether here or behind closed doors—I’ll lose the only noteworthy thing I’ve ever accomplished.

I’m responsible. I’m stable. I’m put together. Regardless of the fact that I’m wearing yesterday’s socks—don’t judge me—because I forgot to do laundry this week.

I can do this.

I am doing this.

But Avery, what about the time you forgot to change the oil in your car for an entire year? The squeak of my younger sister’s condescending voice infiltrates my thoughts.

That was one time, Ellie! One year. We’ve all—I’ve—moved on. I’ve lived. I’ve learned. I’m a new Avery! A reliable one.

Eventually I realized my ADHD was easier to work with if I set phone reminders and left future-Avery sticky notes so as not to forget such things.

If anyone could hear the on-goings of my mind, they’d surely think I was on the brink of insanity.

But truthfully, it’s these small exchanges that keep me sane.

Ellie’s disembodied voice is just the reminder I need that I couldn’t be farther from that girl who didn’t know her car needed maintenance every few months.

It doesn’t matter how much time has passed; people learn. People move on.

Somehow I’ve managed to convince both our director and Stacey that I’m worthy of dancing next to Mallory, who is studying neuroscience, and Ashton, who started her own nonprofit at the age of eighteen.

Do I believe I’m on par with them, at least when it comes to our personal accomplishments?

No. But, as they say, you have to fake it ‘til you make it.

I smirk to myself as I sip from my nearly empty water bottle and realize I've been ignoring the fact that through all my nerves, I haven’t used the bathroom in hours.

“Larissa, where’s the ladies’ room?” I whisper, trying to strike a balance between discretion and being heard over everyone piling into their seats.

“What?” She sits beside me, settling in.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

She pops up, craning her neck like she’s expecting it to be within this room. When she doesn’t spot one, she lifts her hands and shrugs in defeat. “I think we passed one on the way in.”

I glance around, not wanting to bother anyone else with the question. The directors would know, but they stepped out for a moment, and I’d be too intimidated to ask them anyway.

“We passed one? Down the hall?” I ask.

Larissa nods, but it lacks confidence.

I debate staying put but then panic at the thought of having to leave in the middle of Judith’s next speech.

A shiver rushes over me as the cold air kicks on in the room.

Rubbing my arms, I push to my feet and edge my way down the row to the exit.

The corridor outside is broad and concrete, the original 1959 Vista City Kings logo painted on it.

Unable to hold back, I trace my numb fingers over the blue paint of the artwork, trailing them down the length of the hallway as I walk.

Note to Avery: Don’t forget your sweater in your car next time.

A few yards down, I come to a men’s restroom.

I glance around, but no women’s room accompanies it.

That’s when I spot it. Not the ladies’ room, but a sign.

Wet paint. Slowly, I raise my hand and sure enough, my digits are coated in that beloved baby blue.

Kings blue. To my horror, it isn’t only my fingers that have been marred by the wet paint, but the emblem is smudged.

I look around with my heart pounding, but the wide corridor is empty.

It’s my first day, and I already ruined something.

“Geez Louise, pepper cheese,” I mutter to myself, instantly self-conscious of my word choice. It’s one that my mom always told me made me sound immature, but I’ve been saying it so long, I can’t let it go. It’s ingrained in me as deeply as my smattering of freckles and my shock of dark hair.

Footsteps echo nearby, and I panic, launching across the hall and darting into the men’s room before anyone can appear and connect me to the accidental-vandalism. The last stall on the end is the biggest and has a sink to itself, so I dive inside, awkwardly latching the door with one hand.