Hey everyone, thank you so much for the interest in this story! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as I love to write it. I cannot thank you enough for reading this. Enjoy chapter 2!
Chapter 2-Miss America
My alarm blared, and I awoke in a panic. Momentarily forgetting where I was, I blindly grabbed for my phone. Alarm off, 5:30 AM. Time to set the stage for my first day of practice. The soft glow of my Christmas lights lit up my room just enough to feel awake.
First impressions were always super important to Gigi, which she lovingly passed down to me. Always had to look the part, no matter what. As soon as we got the word I was on the team, she started updating my gear selection. Purple and gold soon phased out my high school colors.
But today was all about business. I decided to stick with the traditional black and white ensemble—save the flashy stuff for later when everyone knows my skills. Especially if something were to go wrong, I wouldn't want my things to get torn or ruined.
A braided ponytail, light makeup, and my Nike track suit completed my look. A couple pillowcases were inside my cheer bag, to protect the new supplies I was getting today. Afterwards, they would find a new home in a garment bag, box, or drawer tonight. I was anxious, but excited.
Thankfully I had plenty of time to walk to the gymnasium. I needed to find other squad members soon. This campus was so huge, I had no idea how anyone without a car survived the walk. Think of it as a conversation piece. It'll give you a reason for people to befriend you, not pity you.Papa had offered to buy me a car while we were here, but I wasn't sure how environmentally friendly my squad members were. I'd rather carpool.
Unfortunately, until I had a ride, I would have to be fast. You never know when the sky could open up and pour. Not all umbrellas were going to work with this climate, and I couldn't spend all winter getting frost bite or flu. I kept walking south east, knowing eventually I would run into someone going my way.
Alice's conversation with me last night kept playing over in my head. What if you're the only freshman on the team? What's going to happen when they realize you're the one with the full ride? Girls can be mean, depending on the squad. I couldn't afford to make enemies.
As I got closer to the gym, the nagging feeling returned. I glanced left and right. No one. I could hear any car that was coming. It didn't make any sense why this walk was bad for me. I could pretend I was completely alone in the world. For once, no one to worry about.
Sometime later, cars zoomed past me towards the gym. I saw girls and guys getting out of trucks and SUVs, talking loud and hauling their gear inside. Now was my chance to greet people with a smile. Play the part. Be kind to everyone.
A burly guy waved to me. "Hey girl, help us out over here." I jogged to their car, boxes of uniforms piled up in the backseat. "If you help us carry this in, I'll tell everyone you're the sweetest girl on the planet." Hazing or helping? Let it go, it's harmless.
"Sure thing," I said, reaching for a box. I walked it inside, other guys and girls setting up mat and Coach chairs. People glanced me over from scalp to sole. I wondered what they thought of me. I wanted to be their friends so badly, but I knew I had to earn it. Cheer politics taught me that a long time ago.
After all the boxes were inside, my new friend waved me back over. "My name is Josh," he said, offering me his thick, rough hand. "I stunt and base. Chances are I'll be seeing you on the mat today." He had a huge smile and bright blue eyes. I thought his muscles were a little obnoxious, but he had a role to play too. Don't judge. He's had to lift and fly girls for years. If you fall on him, he won't break. He glanced at my bag. "Genevieve, huh? Nice to have you on the team."
"Thanks. It's Genny, actually," I said nervously. Girls were coming my way. Be polite. If you're nice to them, they will have no reason to be mean. As if on cue, I saw them get in a formation, the head girl staring straight at me. The three of them together made me feel cornered. Freshman are fresh meat, after all.
"Genny, from the block," she offered to the girls behind her. They laughed loudly, expecting me to falter. Like you haven't heard that a million times. "Listen, frosh. We know who you are, and we know you have talent. But so do we." Her flaming red hair and freckled skin were among her stronger features. But her piercing brown eyes were something no one would be able to escape. She had a strong, lean body, obviously from all the work she puts into this team.
"I know you have talent," I floundered, trying to think of what they might want to hear. "That's why I wanted to be on this team. I've seen you guys push yourselves so far—"
"Save it. You and the other freshmen knocked some other girls off the team. I hope Coach made the right choice. It would be bad for you to slip up on your first day." She walked away, finding a spot on the wall to stretch her legs, her small circle following suit. Josh darted his eyes from them to me, assessing the situation. He pulled out his water bottle, taking a swig.
"Well, that's Samantha for you. A temper as red as her hair."
"What about the others? Are they going to be like that too?"
"Maybe. It's day one. Just lay low, do what you're told." He high-fived me and we headed towards the small crowd of other team members. "Remember, everyone wants to be on this team as much as you do. Push yourself to do your best, and prove that your spot was earned, not given."
I got ready to shake more hands and try to remember names. Ashley, a sophomore whose parents owned and operated a local Chinese restaurant near Pioneer Square. David and Daniel, twins from Boise that often confused Coach on who was who. Sarah and Sydney were Samantha's cronies. Daniel said it was easy to group them, just start to hiss. In unison, they would all turn, their eyes daring you to continue. Hiss-ters, beware!
Coach arrived, her team behind her. It wouldn't be long before things got serious. Marcus, the assistant coach had us run five laps to warm up. We gathered back on the mat for team exercises and discuss our schedule for the day. Everyone got an updated schedule for the next semester, color coded between games, alumni events, and community reach outs. I needed to befriend someone with a car by lunch time if I was going to make it to any of these.
"I know you all have been clamoring to get to know the freshmen—" cheers and yells rang from the team. Coach wasn't going to let any of us get off easy. "Let's have them show you who they are. Justin and Brandon, get up there!" Two boys I recognized from try outs walked to the mat. They performed the routine we learned last spring, including two sideline cheers and tumbling. My heart raced, knowing my turn was coming.
"Thanks guys, now I need the following ladies: Bridget, Emily, and Genevieve!" Josh went nuts, clapping and cheering me on. Other team members looked at him like he was insane, quickly turning their attention back to us. Come on, Genny Lee. You got this, full out!
Sideline routines were first. I grabbed my pompoms, ready to plaster on that happy Barbie smile everyone knows and loves. I felt energy surging from the mat through my entire body. I was ready. The team pushed us to be loud, hit the right marks, keep going if we messed up. For a moment, I felt like my old self again. All eyes on me for the right reasons, nothing to be afraid of. Next was tumbling. We flew across the mat ferociously, ready to aim higher and farther with each fling of our bodies. Electricity rang through me as I charged down the mat, pointed toes, eyes on the landing spot.
Looking back, I had no clue what this slip would mean for me or my future. It's as if everyone knew this moment would change my life forever but me. I trace it back in my memory, and they're all right. Instead of a hard surface, I felt myself continuing to head for the floor. Gravity pulled on me fast, and I couldn't tell which way was up or down. My body smacked the floor, a few loud gasps came from my team.
That's it. You're done for. Pack your stuff up and move back home you idiot. No one wants some dumb Midwestern blonde on their team to come along and fuck it all up on day one. My internal monologue raged, seething with shame. Before, I would have shrug it off. Now, I lay completely still, not sure what to do. I heard a few pairs of feet hustling my way. Coach's face came into view.
"Breathe girl, someone will be on the way soon." This bubbly voice brought me back to reality, waving a hand out to me to pull me up. It was Bridget, my fellow freshman. She ignored the ice cold glare from the Hiss-ters who would have left me there to get trampled on some more.
"Easy for you to say," I winced as she slung my arm over her shoulder. How many times have I twisted my ankle before? Countless. How many times has it been this embarrassing? Never. Coach grinned as she assessed the damage. God forbid if you have a concussion. What are you supposed to do for the next three days till class starts? I heard Coach walkie for a medic. A voice on the other end said, "Cullen, on the way."
"This happens all the time, as you know. One of the PTs is on the way." Some of the other girls straightened their pony tails as they heard a door burst open down the hall. They were giving each other knowing looks, an inside joke probably about us new squad girls ruining their chances at championships this year.
"Don't look now, but these girls are in heat," said Bridget, a chipper brunette. "Maybe this time one of them will lay an egg." She smiled at me, large green eyes assessing my face. I instantly felt less like an outsider. At least if one of them got along with me, this wouldn't be so bad.
The main door shot open and in walked this guy that made the girls were stare daggers into my skull. He wasn't your average PT—this guy could have easily posed for an Abercrombie bag. Bronze hair that swept perfectly out of his face and deep gold eyes that were staring right at me. He seemed to glide across the floor, as if his feet weren't touching the linoleum.
"I'm guessing you're the reason they called me down," he asked. I tried to smile as if to apologize, wincing even more. He bent down, lifting my other arm around his shoulder. "We'll be back," he said to Coach, nodding while slowly walking with me towards the door. I couldn't believe it. Of all times, why did I have to meet this guy while drenched in sweat? Was every other person on the medic team still gone for the summer?
"Thanks Cullen," said my only friend. Bridget put my pompoms with my bag as we hobbled away. "Be gentle with her!" She gave me a thumbs up as if to say It's fine. Just smile and breathe. You'll be back in no time.
"As always," he said, shoving the door open and scooting me out. Before I could say much, he quickly scooped me up. Panic set in, and I had to remind myself to focus. He's not who you think it is. This is a different person. Relax!
"What the hell are you doing," I protested, snapping back into reality. He walked quickly as though he wanted to get out of site. Could this guy be Title XI'ed if someone saw us? Would I be kicked off the team? He is a university medic, maybe he did this for everyone…Stop making excuses! Find out more information.
"Just doing my job as efficiently as possible. You'd still be hobbling if we did this the old fashioned way." He grinned as we went inside his exam office. Perfectly organized and clean, nothing out of place. A family photo of a fishing trip hung on the wall, everyone in plaid and stupidly attractive. Another reason to believe this guy was model material. Clearly, they all procreated with each other. Wait a minute…is that who I think it is? It can't possi—
"So what happened? Some jealous teammate hip check you out of her way? The number of times you all get hurt, it's like you're trying to end up in my office." He smiled, pulling out an ice pack and a giant bottle of acetaminophen. Obviously any games the other girls thought they were pulling were no ruse to this guy. He's absolutely aware of the power he has. He kept laughing to himself, like I was part of a joke that no one bothered to tell me. I felt powerless, and felt the inner lioness regain control.
"That's not exactly what happened. I landed wrong on the back handspring. Wet floor." He placed the ice pack gently on my ankle. As I punched the table in pain, he shook his head.
"That was put there on purpose. I swear you all will kill each other one day." He continued to assess my ankle, possibly checking for a break. I knew it wasn't that bad, but something about how his finger tips brushed around, finding the exact spot where my pain began made me want to stay a little bit longer.
"Why? So they can end up in here with you?" The nerve of this guy! He had them all wrapped around his finger and for what, easy action? Sure he's hot, but there's got to be rules against it somewhere.
"That's the fantasy, isn't it? I'm sure they've talked about it and you just don't realize it yet." He looked up at me, as if he knew that stung. A moment of regret passed through his eyes. I know he didn't mean to hurt my feelings, but come on. Was he so out of touch with what this means for me, and how the team will treat me from now on?
"Don't underestimate me, Cullen." I breathed deeply, remembering everything my therapists had ever taught me. I should give him the benefit of the doubt that he doesn't know me or my history. Besides, his brain is probably waking up from the summer fog still. Forgive him, especially since he'll have to take care of you for four years. Don't be a bitch. His eyes creased as if he heard my thoughts, like I had called him the slur instead of myself.
"No need to call me that here. You can call me Edward." He turned around, opening a drawer to pull out a carbonated copy of an injury report. His voice seemed to soften, and he kept looking at my eyes. I felt even more embarrassed, looking back at the fishing trip photo. It was in an inconspicuous spot, small enough for him to see and no one else to really notice. Too bad you're highly sensitive to small details. He wasn't expecting this, I'm sure.
"And ruin your street cred? Can't imagine…" I looked more intensely, and his gaze turned toward the photo. Of course, no one else would be in here looking at this one photo when they were too fixated on the real thing right in front of their eyes. But it wasn't his face that I was curious about. "What is Alice doing in that picture?"
"You noticed that, didn't you," he said factually. "Don't worry, I'm not going to call her and tell her to pick you up. Coach doesn't care for random RA's interrupting her gym time, no matter the circumstances." Before I could ask the obvious question, he continued. "She's my sister."
My head spun from this information. I wasn't used to Edward, or how he somehow knew all the answers. I couldn't escape this feeling like he knew what I was going to do next. That every breath, every moment was meaningful. I thought I saw his eyes shift wildly, as if his mind was fused to mine, but I had seen things wrong before. I guess this is what he meant about the girls clamoring to get into his office. I was entranced.
He stepped closer, a small flash light appearing from nowhere. I had done this routine before, follow the finger, look at the light, touch your nose. But this was way different. I knew he was doing his job, but it was hard to not feel crazy around him. He really isn't that special. It's your head that's making it worse. Seriously, get a grip.
"I gotta go. They're wondering where I am." His arms began to reach for me and we both paused, instantaneously. "Please, don't carry me. I need to look tough right now." The last few words gargled with a sigh, and two fat tears rolling down my cheek. A tissue magically appeared in my hands. I cleaned up my face, looking back at my ankle.
"Fine. At least let me help you into this brace? You can sit on the sidelines for the rest of the day." He skillfully wrapped my foot, the right amount of pressure in the right spots. I wasn't sure if it was his fingers or the ice, but a cool pressure made everything slow down momentarily. He poured some meds into a small plastic container. "Don't pop too many of these unless you want to die from stomach ulcers when you're middle aged."
"I'll keep that in mind," I retorted, edging myself off the table. His hand waited for mine, and even though I put pressure on it, he seemed to barely flinch. It was like we were performing out on the mat—I trusted his hand to send me soaring, and to catch me when I fell. "Thanks for helping me."
"Of course. I'll be here when you need me," he grinned. Making our way back to the gym, he offered, "Let me know if someone can't take you back to your dorm." Shit, of course he would mention a ride home. Who would want to take me now? Please God, let Bridget have a car!
"That's okay, I think I got it this time."
"Sure you do," he paused, as if to ask me a question. This time, it was my turn to have the right answer.
"Genevieve. My name is Genevieve," I stated, looking back into his unique, deep eyes. I quickly turned away, realizing what I did, and the weight of the permission I granted him. "But most people call me Genny," I rushed. "Don't ruin my street cred."
"I couldn't imagine," he whispered. He somehow flung open the door to my team running through a pyramid. Girls had split off into groups, boys practicing their spotting positions. Bridget caught my eye from across the room, waving me over. Coach told Edward thank you, reminding him to keep his walkie on for the remainder of practice.
Edward let go of me, and I began to hobble away. I thought I heard him softly hum a familiar tune, and I continued to whisper the song to myself as I got closer to my group. There she is, Miss America…The familiar nagging to turn around begged me once more to check for his presence, but I wasn't going to let my past or the taunting of my team to get the best of me. I reached Bridget and snuck a glance back—he was gone.