THREE YEARS LATER
Everyone harbors a secret.
Some are mundane; others are downright twisted.
Apparently, my whole existence falls under the latter, because my mom is keeping it hidden like it’s some sort of national intelligence.
Or maybe it’s international, considering where she came from.
I kick the pebbles in my way as I unhurriedly make my way to cheer practice.
Blackwood College is one gigantic building with an ancient feel to it. A few towers stand proudly at every corner as if they’re the watchdogs of this place—or that’s what I’ve thought ever since I enrolled here.
Once again, courtesy of my dear mama, who hasn’t only made sure I study in rich people’s private universities, but also that I play the part by cheering and being in the popular crowd.
Who even likes cheering in college? Certainly not me. I’d rather live my twenty-one-year-old life listening to hard rock and having as little contact with humans as physically possible, thank you very much.
I’m not an antisocial who thinks stepping over people is okay. I’m merely an asocial who likes to leave them alone in hopes they’ll do the same in return.
No luck thus far.
I stare up at the building whose walls I’m privileged to be within. A building that’s as ancient as this town, located on the outskirts of New York City. Old, corrupted money constructed what others consider a place of elite education.
Well, maybe it is. Or maybe I’d appreciate it better if I didn’t have to wear tight, tiny clothes that reveal my belly and strain against my sports bra that I wear in a fruitless attempt to flatten my huge breasts. ‘Huge’ per the cheer captain’s words.
Why don’t I just quit? Excellent question.
The answer is simple and boring—Mom.
As much as I have a love-hate relationship with the woman who gave birth to me, I haven’t forgotten how much she struggled raising me on her own all these years. When I was young and depended on her, she worked several part-time jobs and barely slept to keep a roof over our heads. So when she begged me to make an effort about being in the cheer squad, I couldn’t shoot her down.
She just likes seeing me in the spotlight, I guess. She wants me to make it so we don’t give the racist pricks any chance to look down on us just because we’re of Asian heritage.
That’s the only reason I’m still part of this nightmare.
At least, I hope it is.
My footsteps are heavy at best as I shuffle through the entrance to the football field. Clear sky extends for as far as I can see and the early fall’s sun shines down on the terrain. Due to the great weather, the captain and our coach decided we’d practice our routines outside.
There’s some important home game at the end of this week between our football team, the Black Devils—stupid name, considering the only thing devilish about them is their uniforms—and their biggest rivals from New York.
The cheer squad is lined up near the sidelines because, surprise, we’re not allowed to disturb their majesties while they’re practicing. It’s already stupid that the squad exists for their benefit, but they have the nerve to treat us like we’re their whores.
Most cheerleaders either fuck or date the football players, or they look at them as if they’re Jesus in plural form.
Like me, all my female teammates are dressed in tiny black skirts that barely cover their asses and white tops streaked with black lines. The males are wearing black pants and white T-shirts. Now, if I were a man, I wouldn’t have to put my body on display, but that would mean carrying the weight of all those girls during our routines, so, on second thought, no thank you. I’d rather show my belly button and kill my breasts with tight sports bras.
Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon is blasting in my ears one second, and the next, it disappears when my headphones are plucked away. I’m about to stab someone when my attention falls on none other than the captain of our squad.
Reina Ellis is tall, blonde, fit, and has deep blue eyes that she’s currently judging me with. Oh, and she comes from money—not new like Mom’s, but very old and influential.
So she’s basically the whole package, as indicated by her nickname, Queen Bee, and has the personality to go with it.
She taps her foot on the ground while still holding my noise-canceling headphones—aka my saving grace—out of reach. “You’re late, Naomi.”
“No I’m not.”
She grabs my wrist that has a smart watch on it and shoves it in my face. “What time is that?”
“Fine. I’m ten minutes late. So what?”
“This is your final warning, Naomi. Be late again and I’m suspending you. Countless people wish to be in your position, and if you don’t want it, there’s no need to keep it.”
As if I care. I want to say that but bottle it inside because of—drum rolls—my mother.
Making me part of this plastic bunch was such a low blow, Mom.
Maybe she’s taking revenge because of how much I pestered her with questions about my dad while growing up.
Maybe I’ll have an emotional scar from the cheer squad and won’t be able to live my adult life sketching mangas in a dark basement.
Or maybe I’ll find my father and live happily ever after. Though, it’s a long shot for that one.
“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Reina cocks her head to where the others are watching the exchange with clear disdain—toward me, not their beloved captain.
I extend my palm. “My headphones.”
“After practice.”
“But—”
“And only if you don’t slack off.” She turns around and waltzes to the others with a gentle sway of her hips.
Awesome. Now, I actually have to make an effort.
I try not to drag my feet as I follow after her. Snickers and whispers break out among the cheerleaders at my expense. They have this wolf pack mentality where one will start the mocking sessions and the others follow.
I glare at them. “What? You have something you’re too scared to say out loud, so you prefer whispering like weak little bitches?”
“The only weak little bitch here is you, Naomi.” Brianna, the co-captain and a member of Reina’s mini-me club, points at me. “Look at your fat hips. I told you to start a diet.”
“No, thanks.” I place a hand on my hip. “And these are natural beauty. Don’t be so jealous—it shows, Bee.”
“It’s Bree!”
“Oh, my bad.” I offer a makeshift smile that only angers her further, turning her face a dark shade of red.
She actually has fair skin, but she spends a fortune to tan it, so whenever she’s angry or frustrated—usually with me, because the others are too scared of her to speak out—she looks like a volcano at the point of eruption.
The best way to kill bitches? With kindness.
Honestly, I may have never let anyone walk all over me before, but it’s these people and their constant bullying that’s made me a bitch just like them.
Wait. Does this mean I’m one of them now?
God, no. This is only temporary until I graduate. Then I’ll live in a basement and beg magazines to publish my sketches.
I only have to survive this last year and then I can chalk up the cheer squad and everyone in it to life experience.
My gaze roams around the endless haters’ faces until I find Lucy’s soft one. She grins at me discreetly, then instantly hides it, but it’s enough to paint what resembles a smile on my lips.
She’s shorter and thinner than me, but she has fiery red hair and adorable freckles that dust her cheeks. Lucy is the only one I’d call a friend in the midst of these shark-infested waters. Mainly because she doesn’t belong to Reina’s clique and is kind of a reject like me.
We’ve found company in our misery ever since we first met as high school seniors, and it’s continued in college. Which isn’t a surprise since almost everyone present studied with me in high school. Another prestigious private institution in Blackwood.
Mom and I relocated here during my senior year, and let’s just say that immediately categorized me as an outcast. Hence Mom’s idea about my being part of the popular crowd by becoming a cheerleader.
Reina starts giving instructions and Lucy’s attention goes to her, and in response, mine does, too, even reluctantly. Our coach, a middle-aged woman with long black hair and thin lips, barely says anything when her favorite captain talks.
I’m bored out of my mind, thinking about what food to grab later and if I should endure the witch hunt and the fat-shaming if I eat a slice of pizza in front of the squad.
Reina grabs me by the shoulders and hisses, “Focus or dream on about the headphones,” before she tells me my position will be on the second line, the one right above the male cheerleaders and, therefore, I’ll be carrying her and many of the others.
Yay.
Thankfully, I don’t make many mistakes, except for nearly dropping Brianna on her face, but, oh well, accidents do happen.
At least I’m not distracted by the half-naked football players carrying whatever their coach gave them and running around the field.
I mean, yes, I want to watch male perfection, but I’d rather do it in secret behind my computer screen and not in an ogling, bring-attention-to-me kind of way, like the other cheerleaders.
If I do, it’ll seem as if I’m interested in the football players, yet all I care about is the glistening of sweat on their abs that travels to other…places.
But I have this perfect poker face that no one is able to read behind. Lucy calls me unfeeling sometimes, but it’s not that I don’t feel. It’s that I have immaculate control over showing my emotions.
I take after my mom, thank you very much.
So even when a whirlwind of emotions swirls inside me, no one can figure anything out by observing the outside.
Not even the one person I actually notice on the football team.
The one with sandy hair and sharp features and hard, glistening abs that could very well be used as a weapon.
The one who doesn’t know half the campus exists, while everyone is taught his name the moment they step into Blackwood.
But that one? Yeah, I’m glad he knows nothing of my intentions, because I will get over him.
It’s just a crush…if a crush can go on for this long.
No. I’m sure it’s only a crush and only physical, because everything else is a big no.
At the end of the routine, I’m ready to go have my pizza and give the cheerleaders the middle finger if they say anything about my hips again.
As usual, all of them—Lucy included—kiss Reina’s ass about how perfect the routine is and what a queen she is. Everyone except me, of course. What? She can handle some silent criticism.
Then everyone starts to leave, except her holy circle of vicious mini-mes. Brianna, no surprise there. Prescott, the male co-captain, and a few other cheerleaders who’ve managed to get Queen Bee’s seal of approval.
This close circle is basically all about Reina’s cult activities aka the secret dares that she makes them do because she’s bored in her expensive mansion, and tormenting other people is apparently fun.
I’m about to pull Lucy away so we can go home and binge watch the latest true crime show on Netflix when Reina calls to her.
Lucy turns around, her cheeks red. “Y-yes?”
I sigh. I’ve been teaching her to grow into her confidence, but it seems that’s going to be a very long process. Once shy, always shy, I guess.
“Stay,” Reina says ever so casually.
My lips part at the same time as Lucy’s. Reina didn’t just invite her to join her cult, right?
My friend grins, her skin reddening with apparent excitement as she awkwardly makes her way to the captain’s circle. Other members of the squad whisper, probably in both envy and hatred, as I try to make sense of the situation.
This…there’s something going on. But what?
Or maybe there isn’t and I’m just being paranoid?
But it doesn’t make sense for Lucy to be part of Reina’s close circle. She’s shy and is mostly backup in the squad, just like me. We’re the invisible ones, the ones who people like looking at when we’re with the others but find boring individually.
All of Reina’s other subjects are either as beautiful or accomplished—or damn rich—as she is.
Lucy is average on all of the above. Though, in my eyes, she’s the prettiest.
I stride toward them, my steps wide.
Brianna slides in front of me, crossing her arms. “You weren’t invited.”
“As if I want to belong in your secret sociopathic witch coven.” I extend my palm toward Reina. “My headphones.”
She reaches into her bag and retrieves them but keeps them out of reach. “You were passable today, Naomi.”
I snatch them out of her hand. “I’ll call when I need your opinion of me.”
“That will be soon, bitch.” Brianna breaks out in laughter and the others follow, except for Lucy, and also Reina, who doesn’t laugh or smile unless it’s on her terms. She’s a leader, not a follower, and makes that apparent in each of her moves.
“What is that supposed to mean, bitch?” I ask Brianna.
“Let’s just say your holier-than-thou attitude will be gone once—”
“Bree,” Reina cuts her off with a stern look before she directs me, “Off you go.”
I narrow my eyes on her, then meet Lucy’s gaze, but she gives me an apologetic smile. One that says she’s staying with this band of assholes.
But then again, that’s not a surprise. Luce has always loved Reina and her followers. If anything, this is like a dream come true for her.
Releasing a long sigh, I plug in my headphones and leave while listening to In the Dark by Bring Me The Horizon. Ordinarily, I’d wait until I was off of the field, but I’m more desperate than usual to block their whispers today. Especially since I don’t have Luce with me to lessen the blow.
Does this mean I’m losing her to the queen bee? She has everything and everyone she wants, why does she have to take my only friend as well?
Sharp tangs of loneliness flood the base of my stomach and leave a bitter aftertaste at the back of my throat. And it scares me. The fact that I have no one and am all alone terrifies the shit out of me.
But no more so than the idea of actually reaching out to people and being vulnerable just so they can hurt me. Both are horrifying monsters I think of every day.
Ever since the day I trusted someone and they violated my innocence.
I’m so engrossed in my thoughts and the loud rock music that I’m completely blinded to my surroundings.
That’s when it happens.
I see the ball traveling my way at supersonic speed.
But it’s too late.
My legs remain frozen in place as my eyes widen in preparation for the impact.
But instead of the ball, a flash of movement catches in my peripheral vision before a hard body slams into mine.
And not just any body.
The body of the football player whose existence I’ve spent years trying to ignore.
And failing.
