In her exhaust

Allie Serrano

Cheer tryouts were hell.

So many girls were running around screaming in the changing rooms, and I could barely get past.

"Who's the new girl?" One of the pretty girls say, whispering to her friend but still loud enough for me to hear. "She looks a bit small to be on the cheer team?"

They all laugh.

That's what I hated about this school. Everyone is either a stuck-up brat or a nobody. And it was obvious which category this girl fell into.

I sighed, taking off my outfit, which was already stained purple from the disaster of an experiment in chemistry. All the girls seemed to be watching me, which made me a little self-conscious.

What the hell was their problem?

"Hey, new girl!" The same girl from before called out.

I ignore her and continue getting dressed into my cheer outfit.

"I'm talking to you!" She shoves me, causing me to crash into the row of lockers.

I look away from her, trying to pull myself together whilst fighting back tears.

"Can't you speak when spoken to?" She asks, her face inches away from mine. I look up at her blankly, trying to figure out what kind of person she was. From my judgement, she seemed like an insecure bully.

I move away from her and walk back to where I was before, keeping my head down.

"Right then. Since the new girl doesn't wanna talk -" she grabs my clothes and tosses them into the showers, turning on the water and letting them get soaked.

At that moment, I wanted to shout at her. But I didn't. So, instead, I let her take advantage of me.

-

I wasn't always like this. I used to talk all the time. I was even given the name chatterbox in elementary school. Talking was something I would do constantly.

When i was five, my mum used to tell me stories about a girl who lost her voice because she talked too much, and I never believed that was possible.

That was until it happened.

I remember it so vividly. I was walking home from school since my house was close by, and a man stopped me. He was tall and intimidating, but he seemed to be friendly. He asked me a couple of questions, and like the chatterbox I was, I answered them all without hesitation.

He asked me where I lived, so I told him. He asked me what my mum was up to, so I told him. He asked me her name, how much she makes, who she is married too and so on. And being the stupid child I was, I told him everything about her.

I didn't think much of it at the time, so I continued walking home. I saw my friend Jessica, and she asked me if I wanted to hang out at her place. I was only five, and I hated walking, so I agreed.

The night passed, and I knew my mum would be worried sick, wondering where I was. I said bye to Jessica and her parents before running home. When I got there, my mum answered the door, looking around nervously as if she were looking for someone.

She pulled me inside and immediately started asking me questions.

"Did you see a tall man when you were walking home from school, sweetie?!" She crouched down in front of me, holding onto my shoulders and shaking me frantically.

"Yes." I replied, looking at her with excitement. "He was really kind to me and asked me questions!"

"What did he ask you?!" My mum asked, tears flowing down her eyes.

"He was asking me questions about you, Mama!" I replied innocently. "He asked where you lived, who you are with, and all sorts of stuff."

"Oh God." A knock came from the door. She held my face. "Allie, I need you to run upstairs and hide, okay?!" 

I complied, thinking we were just playing hide and seek.

A couple of hours passed, and I was still hiding. I didn't think my hiding spot was that good. It was just under my bed. I remember thinking that my mum had just given up on finding me, so I crawled out of my hiding spot and walked down the stairs.

"Mama...?" I called out, looking around the house.

When I found her, she was on the floor. It took me a while to notice that she wasn't sleeping. There were multiple bullet wounds in her stomach, one in her head.

I remember crying so much that night, knowing I was the reason that my mum had been killed that night. Days after, my father had come to take full custody over me. We later found out that the man that killed my mother was one of her exes. If I just hadn't talked to that man that day on the walk home from school...my mum would have still been with us today. But she isn't.

And ever since then, I made the decision to never use my voice again.

-

I watch in silence as she drowns my clothes. I didn't understand why she was so mad at me for not speaking to her. I didn't even know her.

Once the rest of the cheerleaders had left to go practice on the fields for tryouts, I went into the showers and knelt down next to my clothes, rinsing them out whilst also soaking them with my tears.

I hate being overran with guilt, everything I even thought about using my voice, so itried to think positive, hoping to make myself feel better.

The purple stains seemed to be coming off better than they did with the stain remover from Mr. Johnson, so it wasn't all that bad.

I left the showers and placed my clothes on one of the radiators to dry. As I walked up to the mirror, I watched as my mascara ran down my face. I knew I had to clean myself up, so I grabbed a packet of wipes from my bag. I silently cried, using my own company as comfort.

-

I headed out onto the field where everyone else was. The girl from before seemed to also be trying out and judging by how she was in the changing rooms, it was obvious that she didn't like me very much.

I watched on the sidelines everyone else's routines, taking mental notes on how to perfect mine. I've always wanted to be a cheerleader, but my old school wouldn't allow me to take part in cheer without using my voice. So when my dad found out that this school was open to it, he immediately signed me up.

Moments later, it was my turn to do my routine. I braced myself, lifting my arms into the air and sticking out one leg to start off my routine.

I begin by jumping into the air, moving forward, and doing a series of summersults. Surprisingly, I landed those, so I continued. Too many flips after, I landed on my feet, feeling nothing but dizziness.

The referees gave me a warm smile and continued whispering to one another before handing me a piece of paper.

"Our email is that the bottom of the paper. We'll get back to you if you land a spot." One of them said.

I nodded and walked off, holding my head in an attempt to stop it from swirling.

-

As I walked back to the changing room, I noticed someone sitting on the bleachers. It seemed like someone I recognised. The guy had dark hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a white jumper, stained with purple. I smiled, realising it was Conan.

I waved up at him, but he seemed too dazed to wave back, which was a bit odd.