My parents were understandably upset after Principal Matlin’s call, but instead of yelling or grounding me, they were quiet, simmering in their dismay. Their calm, firm voices were more painful than any shouting.

“After our chat with Ms. Matlin, we are going to talk to your therapist. Clearly, she is not helping you.” Dad rubbed his chin.

“Clearly. Because I should be fixed by now. All healed and happy.” I lifted the bag of ice to look at my swollen, scraped knuckles. I had to force back a grin. My parents would not appreciate my satisfaction over hitting Adam. Behind his contagious smile he was kind of a pompous jerk.

“That’s not what your father meant.” Mom sat down in the chair across the dining table from me. “We realize you are in a lot of grief. It’s going to take a while to heal, but Jayme…a fight at school? Disrespecting your teachers? Walking out of class?”

I kept my gaze down. I was not sorry for any of it. And I wouldn’t be repentant, which was new for me. Though, I still felt bad for making them upset.

My father gripped the back of Mom’s chair, inhaling through his nose. “We don’t know what to do here, JayJay. We know you’re suffering but acting out like this is not acceptable.”

A heaviness, like a weight fastened to my soul, tugged me further into the chair. They might as well have said I was not acceptable. The way I was dealing with Colton’s death wasn’t up to par.

“It might be our fault.” Mom put her hand to her chest, patting it in emphasis. “You’ve been on your own too much. We let you have too much freedom to dwell on things and weren’t firmer in getting you out with your friends. Activities.”

“What?” My head jerked up.

“Starting tomorrow, you will be going back to cheerleading practice. Justin told me you need to pay attention to your body, but you can slowly start getting back into it.” Dad stood firm. “We’ve called Nancy and let her know you will be back tomorrow.”

“You called Nancy?” I gaped. “Without talking to me first?”

“No. Sorry, but we are going to use the parent card,” Dad responded. I squeezed my eyes closed, holding back my reaction. “After cheerleading practice, you will come straight home and all homework is to be done out here. We want to make sure it is completed. This is not the time to mess up your grades.”

I clamped my teeth, grinding them together.

The sound of little feet thumped behind me. Reece came around my chair, grabbing my knee. Her head bobbed between our parents and me and her face twisted. “Is JayJay in trouble?”

“No, sweetie.” Mom shook her head. “Not with us.”

I wanted to laugh, but instead I tossed the bag of ice to the side and grabbed Reece’s hands, pulling her attention to me. “You want to play Candyland till dinner?”

Her eyes widened, nodding.

“Go get it ready.” I dipped my head to the media console in the living room where we stored the games.

“I get to be red.” She ran for the cabinet as I stood up.

“Jayme?” Mom said my name.

I glanced over my shoulder. “I’ll bring my homework here after dinner.” I walked away, heading for my sister who sweetly dumped decorated cards and bright gingerbread men on the floor.

 

 

The next day Savannah didn’t meet me at my locker or acknowledge me when she walked by. It was obvious I hadn’t been fitting in since I returned, but yesterday when I picked Hunter over Adam, it finally pushed me over. No matter that Adam was a dick, it was the axe to my group standing.

When lunch break came, my innards were so wound in knots I couldn’t even think about food. I stepped into the cafeteria, my gaze darting over to my usual table through my lashes. For show I grabbed a sandwich and a drink and turned around, staring at the bustling room. I wanted to leave, to run outside and keep going, but I had nowhere to go. Hunter had made it clear he was not my friend.

Maybe if I apologize to Adam and brush it off? Make it a joke. The idea tipped my feet forward, but instantly flopped, splatting sourly in my gut. No. I couldn’t be untrue to my feelings. But what else can I do? I inhaled, rolling my shoulders back. Savannah looked up, seeing me. My raw, red knuckles clenched around the bottle of water in my hand, crinkling the plastic. She leaned over and whispered into Chloe’s ear. Both their glares landed back on me. Adam and Jason stopped eating, watching me with bitter regard. The four of them seemed to govern the entire room’s focus.

Gazes from everywhere sizzled my back, sending flames to my face. I was being cooked on an open fire pit, while the group in front of me chilled my heart. What am I doing? My shoes clipped the floor, inching toward them.

“I can’t believe after yesterday she’d even think about sitting here,” Chloe’s voice purposely leaked over to me. Her curly black bobbed hair brushed her shoulders as she shook it.

“She better not.” Savannah’s lip hitched, her eyes full of hate.

“Keep walking, bitch,” Adam snarled at me. When I saw the light bruise on his cheekbone, my right hand tingled, like it was proudly boasting, I did that.

I kept my head high as I walked by them, moving toward the back. I pushed through the door, giving them a brief look back. The entire table watched me, scowling. Then Adam turned his back on me, and Savannah followed suit.

I had definitely exiled myself from the kingdom of popularity and friends. I was completely on my own. Eliminated from their world. A displaced vagabond who would be openly targeted.

 

 

The arrow came swiftly.

Having Hunter in fifth period was far too tempting for my ex-friends and their followers. A guy I didn’t know well, but who had been on the football team with Colton, sniggered the moment Hunter walked into the room. I had gotten to class early, after spending lunch in the library, turning off my phone, avoiding people and social media.

I couldn’t ignore the way Hunter took up space in the room. His dark jeans were relaxed, but his navy-blue T-shirt fit nicely across his chest. His hair was slightly untidy, but it worked on him. Made him more rugged.

I turned my attention to my notebook. My pen pressed firmly, indenting the paper with loopy designs. Out the corner of my eye I saw him move deeper into the room, heading for his seat in the back, a row off and two back from mine.

“So…you need a girl to protect you, Harris? Maybe next time you can hide behind your mommy’s skirt.”

Hunter didn’t respond. He dropped his bag heavily on top of his desk.

“Your brother’s girl, huh?” He twisted his tone, making it sound lewd.

“Shut up, Lewis,” Hunter growled. Without looking at him, I could still sense Hunter’s anger building.

“Oh, someone’s a bit touchy. Need Jaymerson to come beat me up for you?” Lewis taunted. The teacher and some of the class had yet to arrive, but every moment another trickled in, shooting their gazes at the circus ring. “What about you, Holloway? You can’t seem to stay away from the Harris boys. Bounce from one dick to the other?”

I whirled in my seat, angry words about to shoot from my mouth. But my tongue halted when Hunter’s desk barreled across the tile floor, squealing at a deafening pitch. Hunter’s shoulders and neck twitched with energy. He moved amazingly fast to Lewis and slammed his hands on his desk. Lewis was a linebacker, not a small guy, but Hunter’s broad shoulders dwarfed him as Hunter leaned over.

“I told you: Shut. Up.” Hunter’s voice was low but frighteningly menacing. “You flap your mouth again about her or my brother and you will deal with me. Then we will see how fast you hide behind your mommy.” Hunter grabbed his stuff and walked to the door before Lewis could respond, running into Mrs. Ambose. He pushed past her and disappeared around the corner.

“Hunter, where are you going?” Mrs. Ambose called after him. “Hunter!” Her cries fell on deaf ears.

The bell rang for class to start, but Hunter was lost in the swarm of tardy students. Mrs. Ambose’s brow drew down, and she sighed before shutting the door.

“Okay, everyone. It’s pop quiz time.” She planted her papers and bag on the desk. She told us about it yesterday, so not really a “pop” quiz, but still a chorus of groans rippled through the room. With the attention moving away from me, I stared out the window, watching a tall figure move across the lot, his limp a distinctive characteristic. He flung his backpack on top of Jones’s car, brought a phone to his ear. To anyone else he would appear like a guy waiting for his friend. I saw more. The slight brisk movements of his arms and shoulders, the way he brushed his hair back. Anger coiled in him like a viper.

And maybe I recognized it because I felt the same. Mine was aimed at Lewis, my ex-friends, but especially at him. Hunter left me to fight this war on my own. I couldn’t run away, but he had the liberty of ducking out and letting it pass, while I stood on the mound ready to battle. Even if I knew I’d lose, I wanted to be strong, finally stand up for myself.

A guy in a flat-rimmed baseball cap sauntered toward Hunter. Jones and Hunter clasped hands in greeting. Jones was average height and lacked the toned muscle like Hunter. His wide-brimmed baseball hat was like a uniform, but from his sideburns, you could see his hair was a reddish blond. His pale skin was covered in tattoos up his arms and neck. A stud pierced his chin and black circular earring plugs.

They stood talking and then their other friend, Megan, joined them. She was my height, with a creamy chocolate complexion and dark eyes. Her black hair was naturally curly and hung past her shoulders. She wore skinny, ripped black jeans and an army green jacket. All three got in the car and drove away. I wanted to throw my books at the window.

They’re probably going somewhere to get high, drink, and play video games the rest the day. Foreshadowing the rest of their pitiful lives. It was the anger in me speaking, curling into spiteful words. Deep down I knew Hunter was more than that.

 

 

When the last bell rang, I only experienced trepidation. My footsteps moving toward the gym were less than eager. When I walked in, Coach Nancy opened her arms, bringing me in for a quick hug. “Jaymerson, we are happy to have you back. Now I know you need to be careful, but I thought we could use you in front and coordinate it so you don’t have to go up in a stunt or be used as a base.”

I would basically do fluff moves and chant. Before, I’d been the one doing flips in the air or tumbling on the floor. Dad had encouraged gymnastics at an early age. I had given it up when I turned twelve, but I tumbled pretty well for our routines. Not anymore.

I hadn’t considered it a loss until now. Thinking about not doing the stunts rendered cheerleading even less appealing. The other draw had been being part of the group, the popularity, the friends, and the unspoken expectation that the captain of the football team should be dating a cheerleader. I recognized why girls wanted to do it, but it wasn’t my kind of fun anymore. And the camaraderie I once felt was now strained animosity.

“Oh, look who is back.” Savannah walked off the mat, crossing her arms. “To grace us with her presence.”

Coach Nancy’s gaze darted over to Savannah in confusion and then back at me. She had no idea our friendship had dissolved into gooey tar.

“How lucky are we?” Savannah glared at me, her voice full on condescension. “To have you back.”

Let the harassing begin.

“Well, let’s get started.” Coach Nancy clapped her hands together, trying to end the strange vibe in the room. “I’m going to throw you in. I am sure you will catch on quick. Madison can help you.” Out of the girls, Madison was the nicest, but even she looked less than thrilled at being volunteered to be my tutor.

I picked up the routine quickly but with little enthusiasm. My mind began to wander, and I lost count.

“The other way,” Madison whispered, knocking her shoulder into mine. I stumbled, knocking into Chloe, at the base of the pyramid, who teetered. Savannah’s feet slipped from Chloe’s hold, and she crashed to the ground.

Her butt hit the mat with a thump. It was a little fall, something she would normally laugh off, jumping right back up. She and I were used to going up in the stunts. We both had fallen from two to three tiers up, but the redness blistering Savannah’s cheeks told me she would not brush this off like she normally did.

“Did you see that?” Savannah leaped up, pointing at me. “She did it on purpose.”

“No, she didn’t, Savannah.” Coach Nancy swished her hand. “She accidently hit Chloe.”

“No. I saw her. She didn’t trip.” Chloe not surprisingly backed Savannah.

“Are you hurt, Savannah?” Coach sighed.

“No, but—”

“Then we’ll continue on. The state championships are soon, and I want you girls at your best.” Savannah continued to protest. “Enough, Savannah,” Coach snapped. “All of you take a five-minute break, and whatever issue you have, I want gone. Your problem does not return to this mat. Understand?”

The group nodded in consent and wandered away to get water or check their phones. I headed for the water fountain, knowing the problem wouldn’t go away.

“Why don’t you do us a favor and leave? No one wants you here.” Savannah came up behind me. I took a drink, wiped my mouth, and turned around. She stood with her hands on her hips, a snarl curling her top lip. Savannah was treating me like I had betrayed her. She could be flaky and vapid, but when she narrowed in on something—a boy, a pair of jeans, a grudge—she got what she wanted.

And she wanted me gone.

“We brought you into our group. Let you be a part of us, and this is how you treat us?”

“Let me?” I scoffed.

“Yes. You wouldn’t even be a cheerleader if it weren’t for me.” She tapped her chest. “You can’t dance, and you can barely cheer. The only thing going for you was you’re little and could tumble. Oh, and you were dating Colton.”

“Be honest. Colton was the deciding factor. Not the rest.” I put my hands on my hips.

“He was our friend. It’s what friends do,” she hissed. “But you wouldn’t appreciate the concept.”

“Yeah, Savannah, and you are the epitome of a true friend,” I said so sincerely, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “When it suits you.”

I saw it a little too late. Savannah’s hot temper coming at me. It was a combination of a slap and a push. What she lacked in technique she made up in ferocity. I flew against the wall, another blow creaming the side of my face. My arms flew up, defending and fighting back.

“You bitch!” Savannah screamed.

The air split with the sound of a shrill whistle. Coach ran for us, followed by the rest of the squad, but my fury was centered on Savannah. The anger building in me for so long was finding its way to the surface. I was shorter and smaller than Savannah but I held my own, retaliating with a fierceness that overpowered hers. The anger ran deep and strong. I struck her face, and my already sore hand throbbed harder.

“Stop it!” Coach Nancy jumped in between us. “Both of you. STOP!”

Savannah got one more smack in before Coach divided us, her hands held up, holding us back. Both Savannah and I breathed heavily in and out.

“What is going on?” Coach exclaimed. “You two should be ashamed. You’re friends.”

“No, we’re not,” Savannah said coldly, touching her cheek with a flinch. “Why are you here anyway?” Savannah yelled, still held back by Coach’s arm. “You don’t want to be. And we don’t want you here.”

“You’re right,” I spoke. My lip stung. I reached up and my fingers came away wet with blood.

“Whatever is going on, I will not accept this behavior on my squad. At all. Now start talking before I decide to suspend you both for a few weeks. Possibly from the state championships if our team achieves it.”

“You can’t do that.” Savannah gaped at Coach.

“I can and I will.” We all knew it was an empty threat. Coach could not do without Savannah. On the other hand, they had gotten used to being without me and built routines without me. I was frivolous.

What am I fighting for? The threat of being suspended sent relief down my spine. If I wanted to stay, this should have scared me into wanting to fight for it. But it didn’t. Quite the opposite. What am I staying for? To make my parents happy? To do what people expect of me?

I patted at my bleeding lip and stepped back. Coach Nancy’s hand dropped, her gaze landing on me.

“I don’t want to cause tension in this squad. I think I should leave.”

“No, Jayme. It’s not—”

I held up my hand, cutting her off. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, Coach, but I quit. I think it’s for the best.” The whole room stood still. Even Savannah seemed stunned at my sudden resignation.

I turned to leave, but Coach grabbed my arm. “Jaymerson, I don’t want you to quit. We can work this out.”

“I don’t think we can.” When I smiled, a burst of soreness rocked my cheek. “But it’s not about that. You should have a girl who wants to be here. Who dreams about being on the squad and will give everything to it.”

“And you are not that person?”

“No. I’m not.” I pulled free of her grip, walked over to the bleachers, grabbed my stuff, and left the gym. No one spoke or tried to stop me as I left another piece of my old life behind.

 

 

My mother still had my grandparents’ car, but it was my dad who was going to pick me up on his way home from work. He wouldn’t be back in town for another hour. I texted him I no longer needed a ride, omitting the reason why, and jumped on the bus. Our neighborhood had a bus stop at the end of the road.

Wearing practice shorts, sneakers, tank, and light jacket I shivered in the cold while waiting for the bus in front of the school. I bundled my coat tighter around me and hooked my bag over my shoulder, dipping my chin inside the warmth of my jacket.

“Whoa, someone got into a tussle.” The bus driver gaped at my face as soon as she opened the door. “You look too sweet to be getting in a fight.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I retorted, making my way down the aisle to an open seat.

My mind replayed what happened, reliving the rage and relief. I was glad I finally made my decision about the squad. It was done and there was no going back. Anger at Savannah still bubbled in my veins, keeping me from capturing the scenery as the bus toddled through downtown. Businesses closed at five in our tiny town and most were dark. Night came early this time of year, and the moon already dangled in the sky.

The bus slowed, then stopped. A familiar strip-mall building with a Reconstructive Fitness & Therapy sign on the door drew my attention away from my internal thoughts. Most days it was open till eight or nine, for all the people who had to work or go to school. This week they had closed for Thanksgiving break, giving their hardworking employees a full week off.

I assumed to see it dark and closed. I did not expect to see Hunter’s blue pickup truck in the parking lot.

What is he doing here? Does he not know it’s closed? He was standing right next to me when Justin informed us. Is he driving again? Is he allowed to with his leg?

But all those questions were pushed aside by a current of rage. The cut in my lip, nail scratches over my chest, and the bruise penetrating my cheek were suddenly his fault.

The bus doors closed, the driver stepping on the gas. I reacted without thought. “Stop!” I yelled.

The bus came to a screeching halt, rocking the bus back and forth. I tumbled into the aisle, almost falling with the violent sway. Grabbing my bag, I moved to the back doors. When they opened, I rushed down the steps, trying not to think about what I was going to do.