𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓 | (𝟏)

8 | 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭

...🏀...

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟒

Walking through the school's parking lot, I spotted the bus lined up with basketball players waiting to board.

I scanned the area, looking for Brooke.

"Mylah, thank God you're here," Brooke exclaimed, grabbing my arm.

I furrowed my brows, confused. "Your text said 911 and bring a bag." I patted the bag slung against my thigh for emphasis.

"You need to come," Brooke insisted, her eyes wide with urgency.

I blinked. "To the Classic?"

"Yes," Brooke nodded emphatically.

I shook my head. "No." But Brooke's eyes were pleading, desperate. "Brooke, I'm not a cheerleader."

"I know," she said, her grip tightening on my arm. "But you're a dancer, and I need help choreographing our routine so we can finally beat Claire Young and her annoying Bear Creek Warriors. They take home the trophy every year."

I loved Brooke, but the thought of dancing again sent a shiver down my spine. I had not choreograph or dance since I ran away from Andrew. I hadn't stepped foot in a dance studio in over a year. While writing music and singing brought me peace and time to heal from what Andrew did to me, dance brought heartache and would open old wounds that I didn't think I was ready to close.

"I know you've hated dancing since Andrew," Brooke said softly. I looked into her eyes; she and Haley were the only ones who knew the truth about my ex-boyfriend. "But it's been over a year, and I wouldn't be asking unless I really needed you."

I sighed, knowing I would do anything for Brooke. "There won't be room for me, and who will take care of Leila?"

"I already got it covered," Brooke replied, a triumphant smile on her face. "Your mom is going to watch Leila." She began dragging me toward the bus. "You're staying with your brother."

I stared at her, suspicion in my eyes. "You knew I was going to say yes, didn't you?"

"Yep," Brooke said, grinning. "Mylah, you need this. You just needed someone to push you towards it."

"I don't care how important this tournament is," Whitey said, his voice booming as he approached, dressed in his blue jacket and dark blue hat. "People trump pompoms!"

My eyes widened as I stared at the bucket overflowing with white and blue pompoms. "Brooke, why do you have thirty pompoms for a ten-person squad?"

"We need extras," Brooke explained, rolling her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.