"Nice routine, new girl," Brett called after her, his tone making the compliment feel like an insult. "Hope you can handle the pressure."
That evening, Amaya followed her father into the woods behind their new house. Despite his retirement, Elijah Walker maintained the disciplined physicality of an active Navy SEAL. He'd set up a makeshift training course—rope swings, balance beams made from fallen trees, and a series of targets for their regular self-defense practice.
"How was school?" Elijah asked as they warmed up with stretches.
"I made the cheer team," Amaya replied, reaching for her toes. "As the lead flyer."
Elijah's face broke into a rare full smile. "That's my girl. Your mother would be proud."
The mention of her mother made Amaya's throat tighten. It had been just over a year since the accident during Elijah's final mission—a helicopter crash that had claimed the lives of both Sarah Walker and two other SEAL team members.
"I miss her," Amaya said softly.
Elijah's expression softened. "Me too, baby girl. Everyday." He cleared his throat. "Now, let's work on your evasive maneuvers. Remember, the best way to win a fight is to avoid it completely."
Amaya finished with a small smile. It was one of her father's favorite sayings, drilled into him since she was 10 years old and he'd first started teaching her self-defense.
For the next hour, they trained: Elijah teaching Amaya how to break holds, escape from restraints, and use an attacker's weight against them. These sessions had become more frequent after Sarah's death, as if Elijah was determined to ensure his daughter could protect herself from any threat.
"You're getting stronger," he noted as Amaya successfully flipped him over her shoulder, a move that would have been impossible a year ago.
"I have a good teacher," she replied, helping him up.
The first pep rally of the school year came the following Friday. The gymnasium was packed with students, teachers, and parents, all dressed in Westbridge's colors of navy and gold. The cheerleaders performed their routine with Amaya executing flawless aerials and being tossed higher than any flyer before her. The crowd erupted in cheers. Even some of the teachers were on their feet.
Amaya caught sight of her father in the back of the gym, his proud smile visible even from a distance as the football team ran in to thunderous applause.
Brett jogged past the cheer squad. He slowed as he passed Amaya. "Don't get too comfortable in the spotlight," he said under his breath, then flashed his winning smile to the crowd.
Later in the hallway, Amaya felt her phone buzz with notifications. Anonymous texts were flooding in: Show off. Who does she think she is? Charity case. Go back where you came from.
Amaya stared at her phone, her stomach knotting with anger and hurt. As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Grace.
"Hey, I was looking for you," Grace said, then noticed Amaya's expression. "What's wrong?"
Wordlessly, Amaya showed her the texts. Grace's face fell. "I'm so sorry. This happens sometimes when someone new shakes things up."