Bullies Sla-pped New Girl Cheerleader — Unaware Her Father Is A Hell Angels
Chapter 4
Theme:
Font Size:
24px
Coach Donna Reeves sat in a chair at the edge of the gym. Late 50s, gray at her temples, clipboard on her knee. She watched the room with the patient, tired eyes of someone who had seen many versions of this exact scene before.Cass walked in at 2 minutes to 4. She was wearing plain black shorts and a white t-shirt. Madison looked up from her phone. The room got just a little bit quieter."Can I help you?" Madison said. Her voice was light. Friendly, even. The kind of friendly that has a blade in it."I signed up," Cass said. "Tryouts."Madison tilted her head. "I don't remember seeing your name.""It was on the list.""Hmm." Madison glanced at the girl beside her. "Britney, did you see a new name on the list?"Britney shrugged. "Malone or something, maybe? Malone."Madison repeated it like she was tasting something unfamiliar. "Where are you from, Malone?""Clarksville.""Clarksville." Another pause. "You cheer there?""Some," Cass said.It was technically true. In the same way that saying a Navy pilot flies some is technically true.Madison looked her over once. The jacket, the boots she'd worn in, the leather bracelet. "This is a college squad," Madison said. "Not a rodeo."A couple of girls laughed. Cass didn't react. Coach Reeves looked up from her clipboard."Let's get started," she said simply.And they did. The tryout lasted 90 minutes. The first 45 were basics: jumps, motion technique, a short routine the girls had been given in advance via email. Cass had not received the email. She watched it once from the side while the other girls warmed up, then stepped in for the second run-through like she'd known it all along. Coach Reeves noticed.The last 45 minutes were individual evaluations. Each girl did a solo pass, jumps, a tumbling sequence if they had one. Presence. Most of the girls were good, some were very good. Madison was technically strong and she knew how to perform for an audience.When it was Cass's turn, the room was very quiet. She stood at one end of the mat. She took one breath, then she moved.It is difficult to explain what separates a good athlete from someone who has truly lived inside a sport. It isn't just the skill. Skill can be trained. It's something else. It's the way the body doesn't seem to be thinking anymore. The way it just knows.Cass landed her sequence clean. Her jumps had height and snap. Her lines were sharp. And at the end, there was something in her face that wasn't performance. It wasn't showing off. It was more like the only honest thing she'd done in public all week.