Disclaimer- hopefully this goes without saying, but I don't own anything except for my ideas
Chapter title is from Not the Boy Next Door from Peter Allen's The Boy From Oz
Her coach is Sasha Belov from Make It or Break It because I said so. You don't need to watch the show to understand though!
Stevie's faceclaim is Sabrina Carpenter and Becca's is Sofia Carson
Summary: The middle Cooper sister, Stevie never really knew or cared about the Riverdale drama or the Cooper drama, because her life was "eat, sleep, breathe, gymnastics". She didn't even live in Riverdale; she lived just outside of New York City at an elite facility where top athletes could train with the best of the best, while also attending a school designed to accommodate their training
She knew that Polly had been dating Jason Blossom, but didn't really care as long as Polly was happy; she knew that Betty had been in love with their neighbour since she was eight, and that she was spending the summer with some fancy internship, but that was it
But after a broken wrist takes her out of gymnastics for a while and she has to trade her gymnastics-oriented boarding school for Riverdale High, just in time for the first day of class, she realizes exactly how much shit her little sister is caught up in, at school and at home, and god help anyone who tries to stop her from protecting her.
Everybody Else's Girl
Prologue: I'm a Stranger Now (In My Neighbourhood)
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You can't train, Miss Cooper, and you'll heal better from home. So yes, I am telling your coach to send you home until this broken wrist of yours is healed," Dr. Malloy explained.
Stephanie 'Stevie' Cooper groaned, running her right hand—the one that wasn't broken—through her blonde hair. She had somehow snapped her left wrist the day before, a vault gone wrong during the biggest competition of the month, and had refused to see anyone but her own doctor.
"You want me to go back to Riverdale? Seriously? God, Doc, since when do you hate me?"
"Always the dramatics, Miss Cooper," she chuckled, "but my mind is made up."
"Fine," she said, crossing her arms—a feat made difficult by the bulky cast on her left wrist. "But if I kill my mother, I'm blaming you."
"I'd expect nothing less. Now, I'm going to bring Coach Belov in to let him know. Would you like to stay, or go back to your apartment and pack?"
"I don't need to hear it again. But," she hesitated, "what about physio? And the cast?"
"I want you back in two weeks for a first follow up, then two weeks after that to see Vanessa for a physio consultation, then once a month until you're back. More frequently if Vanessa deems it necessary."
"Thanks," Stevie said, with a feeling that the frequency was just as much to check in on her as it was to check on her wrist.
"You go on home, alright? Coach Belov will stop by later to sort out logistics."
Stevie nodded and stood, making her way across the giant campus—and it really was giant, apparently comparable to many Olympic Villages—to the apartment building that she lived in. She took the stairs up to the seventh floor, which was occupied exclusively by the senior gymnasts, and walked into her apartment. The door was unlocked, so she knew that her roommate had to be in.
"Becca, I'm home!" She called out.
"Coop! Oh, thank god! So, what's the verdict?" Rebecca Jackson asked, running out of her bedroom.
Her black hair was thrown into a bun, tanned skin dripping water onto her bathrobe—she had clearly just had a shower—but she seemed oblivious to all of that as she waited for an answer.
"I'm being shipped off to Riverdale until I heal," Stevie told her.
"Is Doctor Malloy insane?" Becca demanded, and Stevie felt a rush of validation from the response, "Riverdale? You hate it there, Coop!"
"I know that! But apparently I'll heal better at home or something."
"Right, like being around your mother could ever be good for anyone."
"At least Kevin will be there?" Stevie said, unsure of which one of them she was trying to convince.
"He will! You need to bring him out to visit sometime, I miss him!"
Kevin Keller, the only friend Stevie had in Riverdale, had come to visit when they were thirteen, and the three had been thick as thieves ever since. Whether he was playing fake boyfriend when either of them was under too much media scrutiny, joining them in their afterparty circle, or just having movie nights in their apartment, they always had more fun with Kevin than without.
"I'll bring him for my first checkup, promise," she said.
"Speaking of—were you cleared to drive?"
"Yep! I've got a doctor's note and everything. As long as I can hold the wheel, I'm fine. Now… would you mind helping me pack? I really don't want to think about this…"
"Obviously!" Becca said, "I've got your back one hundred percent, you know that."
Stevie grinned, letting Becca pull her into her room and pull out her two purple suitcases.
"Clothes first," she decided, "then we can worry about everything else."
It was easy to fall into a rhythm, listening to Becca's Ariana Grande playlist as she pulled out what seemed to be every item Stevie owned. She would either nod or shake her head, which determined whether Becca handed it to her to fold and pack or whether she folded it up and put it away. It was easy enough to do the same with shoes, but just as they were about to move on to miscellaneous items—of which she would need many, having not been home for more than two weeks at a time in six years—when there was a knock on the door.
Becca went to answer it while Stevie started to sort through her school supplies—she knew that a traditional high school would inevitably be different from what essentially amounted to group AP tutoring, but she figured that she would still need pens and notebooks and her beloved agenda.
"Coop, get over here!" Becca called.
Stevie went straight to the door, lighting up when she saw her coach. Sasha Belov, the who coached the women's elite gymnastics team, was an objectively attractive man, tall—especially surrounded by his gymnasts, the tallest of whom was only 5'3"—cropped blond hair, impressive arms, and a swoon-worthy British accent, but Stevie only ever felt a familial fondness in his presence. If their team was a family, as he so often said, then he was somewhere between the dorky big brother and drill sergeant dad.
"Hey Coach," she greeted, as Becca returned to the bedroom to continue packing, "What brings you to our humble abode?"
"How's your wrist, Stevie?"
"It's broken, Sasha, you know that."
He raised an eyebrow at her tone but said nothing. He didn't have to, and he knew it, that look could break her in an instant.
"It hurts, okay? I haven't taken anything for the pain since just after the fall yesterday."
"Take a damn Vicodin," he told her, "I know you have some."
She sighed, grabbing both the pill bottle and her water bottle from the coffee table, and took a pill. She drank a mouthful of water before looking back at Sasha.
"You didn't just come here to make me take my meds. What's wrong?"
"I couldn't convince Dr. Malloy to let you stay," he explained, and Stevie deflated.
"You mean—"
"I mean you have to go to Riverdale. And I know that nothing that I say will make you okay with that, I do listen when you talk about it, but we're going to make some plans, okay?"
It was strange for Sasha to see his top gymnast so broken. He'd seen her hyperextend both elbows and still pull through to win gold at Junior Nationals, he'd seen her storm outside in a leotard and no shoes during a snowstorm to demand that he give their team a chance, despite the gym parents' drama, and he'd once seen her land a vault on one leg. But he'd never seen her look as upset as she did at the thought of returning to Riverdale.
He followed her to the couch, closing the door behind him.
"What's the game plan?" she asked.
"You'll come back every two weeks, at most, and stay for the entire weekend each time. I'll call daily for a check in and, if things are unbearable, I'll find an excuse to get you back here immediately. And while you can't train—"
"That's the worst part," she interrupted, "other than my mom…"
"As I was saying," he teased, "While you can't train, you will be attending ballet lessons five days a week. I have an old colleague who runs a studio in Centreville, she's agreed to let you join. It's two hours a day, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday."
"So, same as here?" Stevie asked—Sasha made all of his girls take ballet lessons to improve their artistry and provide them with a lower impact workout.
"Just add a commute," he said, and Stevie nodded. "I'll forward you the information, alright?"
"Yes sir," she agreed reluctantly, "but are you absolutely sure I can't just stay?"
"Even I can't overrule the doctors," he reminded her.
"Fine… I've got to pack."
"I'll see you at lunch," he told her, an order more than a question.
She gave him a cheeky salute, watching him leave before rejoining Becca in the bedroom.
"Where did we put my dance stuff?" she asked.
"Already packed," Becca told her, "I heard all of that."
"Of course," Stevie grinned.
"I also got your toiletries packed, basic things like headphones and chargers and your passport in your duffle, and finished getting your school stuff into your backpack. Now it's just the odds and ends left."
"I love you so much," Stevie told her, "marry me?"
"I love you too, but I'm waiting for Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively."
"I hate how understandable that is."
The two girls laughed, and quickly finished packing. Soon, too soon, it was time for lunch. Becca had texted their entire team, so they all met in their floor's common room rather than one of the bigger dining halls. Stevie had always preferred the smaller room, although being the centre of attention left a lump in her throat. She hugged all of her teammates, reminding them that she'd be back in two weeks and that they had her phone number and Facebook, and managed to get away with barely nibbling at her food.
Finally, she reached Sasha, who pulled her into a hug.
"You take care of yourself, Stevie," he told her, "you're a lot tougher than you think."
"Thanks, Coach," she said wetly, blinking back tears.
"Call me when you get to Riverdale," he said, and with a final squeeze, he let her go.
She barely noticed Becca leading her back to their apartment to grab her bags, and walking her down to the garage, to her beloved Toyota FT1. It was dark purple, of course, just like her luggage set, duffle bag, and letterman jacket, and was her favourite of all of her sponsorship deals.
She and Becca loaded everything into her trunk, only grabbing her small black purse—with her wallet, phone charger, and aux cord—to toss onto the passenger seat.
"Take care of yourself, Coop," Becca told her, "and text me all the time, okay?"
"Riverdale may be hell but I'm not going to war," Stevie chuckled, "but I will. I love you."
"I love you too."
The two girls hugged for a minute, before pulling away reluctantly. Stevie got into her car, plugging her phone into her AUX cord immediately, and waved one final time before she set off to Riverdale.
Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed! I've been working on Stevie for ages but only just started to actually write for her! That said, if you're curious about her, feel free to visit me on tumblr Randomestfandoms-ocs and/or Stevie-Cooper
(and pinterest, for anyone curious, is randomestfandoms/everybody-elses-girl