Bad Influence - popular girl x nerd boy

9- Rome

Every kick against the rocky track sends daggers through my exhausted legs, but I refuse to slow down until I hit the two-mile mark. My lungs are empty by the time I complete my fourth lap, fog leaving my mouth every time I gasp for more air. I ignore the pain that fills my entire body, an ache that accompanies my harsh training, and I force my mind to forget the very real possibility that I will collapse before I reach the last few yards of the mile.

Pink running shoes carry me across my imaginary finishing line seconds before I fall onto the ground, held up by the soft field of grass beneath me. Although the school's cold grass is the most comfort I have felt all morning, I don't have enough time to rest yet.

I slowly rise, watching as the sun mirrors me and pulls its large body above the long horizon.

Beeping repeats from my watch, growing louder until I tap the alert that tells me the time of my personal race. Surprisingly, I've improved greatly since last semester by carving nearly a minute off of my time. Still, the numbers I see written on the small screen are not enough, and I prepare for another chance to do better.

Since I rarely do things outside of my friend group or social circle, it comes as a surprise to many people that I spend the best of my mornings circling the school's track early in the morning. I love training with my girls, assisting them in their form or positions to make sure we all shine together as a team. There is so much appeal in knowing that it's my team, one I created and have the power to improve as I need.

However, running is something entirely different.

Racing against myself, with the quiet call of empty space and an absence of anyone else, nothing matters. I can scream or cheer or groan without objections or stares.

Best of all, I can do nothing.

There's no one I have to help, no obligation to correct anyone's movement or listen to whatever useless gossip they find interesting. I don't have to wear a mask and pretend to be the version of myself that everybody wants to see. My perfected costume is removed in exchange for an old t-shirt and leggings. I can abandon the constant smiles and fake laughter, and my life-long performance finally ends. The things I love about cheerleading are the same things I hate about it, and that is why I need my balance.

When I am running, my mind is clear.

There is no stress about my family or my future. It's impossible to focus on anything except the amazing burn in my chest I feel every time I push myself farther. If I find myself thinking at all, it's always centered around my desire to improve.

I continue to push my sore body through different drills until I spot my team arriving at the edge of the school's field. Behind them, the sun has barely lifted above the city's buildings, giving them shards of light scarcely bright enough to begin their training.

Even when asked to practice in the early morning, they never complain, at least not to my face. I push my team hard, varsity and junior varsity alike, but they know it doesn't compare to how hard I challenge myself. Almost an hour before I am joined by anyone else, I begin my own practice.

Quickly my mind shifts, centering on my team and what they need in order to become the best in the country. All personal desires are discarded as I see them move closer, and my mind becomes set on improving positions or creating choreography for upcoming competitions. When I am with my team, I put every ounce of my energy into them and our performance, and the results are apparent.

Ranked fourth nationally and first in the entire state. Notably, we only improved so much under my leadership.

Before I had taken command of the cheer squad, the seniors running everything had been a mess. Organized practices were rare, occurring twice a month at best, and only varsity was allowed to perform for the games in front of the rest of the school. This prevented anyone from improving or even establishing a team bond. In my sophomore year, I realized that the team was nothing. Unable to qualify for competitions and barely impressive to our own classmates, there was almost no point in being on the squad at all. With the ire and anger of every senior on the team, I hosted practices for the junior varsity cheerleaders.