Chapter 2

The air between us suddenly felt freezing.

"Sarah... what is wrong with you?" I took a slow, cautious step forward. "Why did you bail this morning without even saying goodbye?"

She didn't answer. She wouldn't even look me in the eye. Instead, her eyes dropped to my neck, then jumped to my shoulders and elbowss—studying me like a puzzle she couldn't solve.

I reached out to grab her arm. "Sarah—"

She violently slapped my hand away.

It stung. Just last night, we were lying on my bedroom floor, talking about our futures. Now, she was looking at me like I was a predator.

"Look," I tried to explain, keeping my voice steady. "I'm sorry if I was a bad host. I was dead tired from practice. I passed out the second my head hit the pillow. I didn't even hear you leave."

The moment I said passed out, Sarah’s breathing hitched.

She started backing away, shaking her head frantically.

"You were asleep," she muttered. "Right. You were definitely in the bedroom. You were asleep..."

A cold spike of tension hit my stomach. "Sarah, what are you talking about?"

She clamped both hands over her ears.

"Nothing!" She threw her weight against the gym doors and bolted inside, leaving me standing alone on the concrete.

Morning practice was a total disaster.

Sarah had practically begged to take the main flyer spot, but now she was completely out of it. She dropped two basic basket catches. Whenever the bases loaded her up for an extension, she visibly shook, refusing to go high.

The second the whistle blew for a water break, she sprinted up the bleachers, putting as much physical distance between us as possible.

Watching her huddle at the very top, reality set in. Sarah was doing exactly what Jessica did. She was terrified of me.

By the afternoon, the situation went from weird to entirely psychotic.

I walked toward Coach Miller’s office just in time to see Sarah and Jessica standing in front of his desk.

"We can't do it," Sarah said, her voice trembling but absolute. "Give the routine to Vivian. She has to be the Top Flyer."

Coach Miller slammed his clipboard down. "Are you kidding me? State is in a week. If you don't want to compete, pack your bags and quit!"

Nurse Emma, the team's medical staff, was standing by the door. She looked appalled. A few core team members lingered in the hall, exchanging quick glances. None of them argued. They all silently, uniformly agreed with Sarah’s demand.

Emma shot me a cold, scrutinizing glare as she walked past me.

I could read her mind. She thought I had ruthlessly bullied two starters into giving up their spots.

I stood in the hallway, completely helpless. My chest felt tight. We had girls with much better technique than me. Why would they throw away a guaranteed college scholarship just to hand me the crown? It defied all logic.

Coach Miller stepped out of his office and called me onto the basketball court.

He looked me up and down, sizing me up.

"You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that." He pointed the end of his pen at me. "The spot is yours. Let's see if you can hold it."

Just like that, it was official.

I glanced over my shoulder. Jessica and Sarah were slumped against the wall. They didn't look defeated or angry. They looked profoundly relieved.

After practice ended and the gym cleared out, Miller told me to stay back in the equipment room to "discuss base tactics."

The second the door clicked shut, the vibe shifted.

Miller stepped right into my personal space, backing me into a corner against the stacked crash mats.

"You know, standing at the apex requires... obedience," he murmured.

He reached out. His hand slid inappropriately down my waist.

Bile rose in my throat. I didn't think. Pure adrenaline took over. I grabbed his hand, twisted his wrist, and wrenched it completely backward.

Miller yelped in pain and stumbled away from me.

Right at that exact second, the door swung open.

Nurse Emma froze in the doorway, holding a medical supply box. Her eyes darted from my rumpled cheer uniform to Miller, who was rubbing his wrist and glaring.

Her jaw dropped. The disgust on her face was obvious.

A suffocating wave of humiliation crashed over me. I didn't try to explain the mess. I shoved past the door, bolted out of the building, and didn't stop running until I reached the bleachers by the outdoor track.

I sank down onto a bench, burying my face in my hands.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel. I looked up to see Sarah standing there.

She didn't say a single word. She just reached out, shoved her silver cross necklace into my palm, and immediately turned to run.

Something inside me snapped.

I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of her cheer shell, yanking her back.

"No! You don't get to run away!" I screamed, my grip tightening on her uniform. "Sarah! Tell me what the hell is going on!"