𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓! ʲ ᵇᵘʳʳᵒʷ

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

CHAPTER TWO routine disaster

"Oh, gosh, you're crying."

I PLACE MY FINAL shirt in the dresser drawer in my new room. I glance at the small, wooden box that sits on top of the wooden dresser- the plaque reads Bandit Bennett, Forever in my heart. I kiss my fingers and press it against the cool metal.

"Ready to go?" Shayla asks, spinning her car key around her finger as she enters the room. "I guess," I sigh, turning to face her. Her eyes rake down my new outfit- an orange tee shirt and black leggings. "Love the team spirit!" I roll my eyes, tucking my shattered phone into my back pocket. We exit the house and I climb into her sleek, black sports car.

Neither of us said much- anxiety ate at me the entire ride and I think Shayla knew that.

"Do you think I have a chance?" I ask her, scared of the answer. She thinks for a moment as she turns into the facility. "Of course you do. You're great. Just show them that."

We enter the facility after Shayla scans her ID. I follow her to a security desk, where a large, bored-looking man sits. "Hi, Mark!" Shayla greets him, pulling a clipboard towards her.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Shayla. How are you today?" the bald man asks, a smile settling over his smooth skin. "Good. This is my friend, Talullah. She's here for a cheerleading interview." I wave shyly as my friend signs the papers. "Hi Talullah, it's nice to meet you. Have you ever cheered before?"

I nod, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "I actually cheered in college, and for the Cowboys." He nods, impressed. "Well, good luck. Have a good day, girls."

We wave goodbye to Mark as Shayla leads me through the unfamiliar space. My stomach is in knots by the time we arrive at the cheer office. The room is sleek and polished- two women sit behind a dark, wooden desk. One is scribbling something on a piece of paper while the other types away on her laptop. I wring my hands together as we approach. Both women look up- "Shayla. And you must be Talullah Bennett. If you'll follow me, you can show us your performance, then we can sit and chat a little bit."

I smile, turning to Shayla to give her a nervous face. She gives me a smile and two thumbs up before pushing me to follow the gray-haired woman. She leads me to an empty gym. She motions for me to take the middle as she settles into a chair. The other woman from the desk comes in, her heels clacking against the floor. "Whenever you're ready."

The gym is silent, except for the thudding of my sneakers against the floor as I complete my routine. I land my last summersault, holding the pose for a beat too long. I smile to mask the nerves that settle under my skin; my blood rushes into my ears. "Impressive," the brunette with the tight bun says, not looking up from her clipboard as she scribbles.

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, straightening my back. I can't show fear, they can smell it. "Well, you have the skill and physicality for it," the grey woman says. She crosses one leg over the other. "Very talented. But it's more than just routine."