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HENRY W. GRADY HIGH SCHOOL WAS BUSTLING even this early in the morning.
The parking lot was full of Kylah's peers, teachers walking into school and parents dropping the underclassmen off on the sidewalk in front of the main entry doors.
Some of the seniors over in their designated section of the parking lot had their car radios blasting different songs in R&B and rap. The Georgia sun beat down on Kylah through the windshield of her car as she stared down intently at her phone.
A video of her, from earlier this morning, going through her gymnastics routine for her next competition was playing on a loop so that Kylah could meticulously pick out any flaws in her form.
Kylah watched herself go through an extremely complex tumbling pass in her backyard, her voice emanating from the tiny speakers on the bottom of her iPhone, in an attempt to cheer herself on," Come on, Ky. Stick the landing," Kylah saw herself finish the routine.
The video ended with her clearly not sticking the landing and falling forward on her knees and then releasing a sharp, "Damn it!"
"Ugh!" Kylah got out of her car and slammed the scarlet-colored door, a little frustrated.
"Woah. What's up with you?" Nyree asked as she approached, one hand on her backpack strap.
"Sectionals is in two weeks and I still don't have this damn routine down. If I don't have it, we're going to lose." Kylah groaned as she leaned against the car door.
"What about the other girls on the team? They can't do it?" Nyree questioned before taking out her lip gloss and reapplying a coat in one of Kylah's side view mirrors.
"Mhmm," Kylah shook her head as the two girls started to walk into their Atlanta high school, "It's too hard for everyone else. It's damn near Olympic level."
"Tell your coach to ease up." Nyree advised and Kylah scoffed, "So that he can call me weak in front of everyone and kick me off the team? No thanks."
The duo turned into the hallway that held their lockers and Kylah furrowed her brows at her vibrating device then reached into the right back pocket of her black ripped jeans to slide her cell phone out and leaned her shoulder onto the locker adjacent to Nyree's. There was a text message from a phone number she didn't recognize.
"What's up?" Nyree asked after a peek at Kylah's confused expression.
"Random number texting me," Kylah muttered as she unlocked her phone.
