Mrs. Harrison's eyebrows rose slightly. "Your father's military background shows in your manners. That's refreshing."
Amaya's first classes passed in a haze of introductions and curious stares. By lunchtime, she had yet to make any real connections. She found an empty table in the cafeteria and unpacked the lunch her father had prepared, a habit he'd maintained since her elementary school days.
As she ate, Amaya observed the social landscape around her. The tables seemed segregated by invisible boundaries: athletes here, drama kids there, honor students in the corner, and at the center of it all was a table of students who radiated confidence and privilege. A tall boy with sandy blonde hair sat at the head of that table, his arm draped casually around a pretty girl with straight copper hair. He caught Amaya looking and smirked, whispering something to his friends that made them laugh.
"That's Brett Carson," said a voice beside Amaya. A girl with curly brown hair and kind eyes slid into the seat across from her. "I'm Grace by the way. Grace Thompson."
"Amaya Walker," Amaya replied, grateful for the friendly face.
"Brett's dad is the mayor," Grace explained. "And Brett's the quarterback, so he basically owns the school, or thinks he does anyway. And the girl with him, Lexi Parker, his on-again, off-again girlfriend—she's not on the cheer squad anymore, got injured last year, but she still acts like the Queen Bee."
After lunch, Amaya noticed a flyer for cheer tryouts posted on the activities board. Back at her old school, she'd been on the gymnastics team, earning state recognition for her floor routines. Cheerleading wasn't exactly the same, but close enough.
"You should try out," Grace said, appearing at her side. "Coach Williams is actually pretty cool. Not like some of the other teachers who play favorites."
Two days later, Amaya stood in the gymnasium with 15 other girls waiting for her turn to perform. Coach Williams, a former college cheerleader with a no-nonsense attitude, had them demonstrate basic jumps, tumbling passes, and stunts. When Amaya's turn came, she channeled all her gymnastics training into a flawless routine. Her tumbling passes were precise, her jumps high and clean. For her final move, she executed a perfect standing full twist, something none of the other girls had attempted.
A hushed silence fell over the gym, followed by scattered applause.
"Well," Coach Williams said, failing to hide her impressed expression. "That was unexpected."
From the bleachers, where some football players were lounging after practice, Brett Carson watched with narrowed eyes. Beside him, his teammates, Kyle, Mason, and Troy, leaned forward with interest.
"Looks like we've got new talent," coach announced to the group. "Amaya, I'd like to see you as a flyer in our competition routine."
A murmur ran through the group of girls. One of them, a senior named Heather, stepped forward. "But coach, I've been the lead flyer since sophomore year, and now—"
"You'll be supporting Amaya," coach replied firmly. "Her tumbling skills are exactly what we need to place at nationals this year."
Later, as Amaya was gathering her things, she overheard Brett talking to his friends near the water fountain. "So, the new girl thinks she can just waltz in and take over," he said loud enough for her to hear. "Wonder how long that'll last."
"Did you see those moves though?" Troy said. "Girl's got skills."
Brett shot him a look. "She's got something all right. Probably just affirmative action cheerleading."
They laughed, and Amaya felt her cheeks burn. She shouldered her gym bag and walked past them with her head high.