When China Breaks//Ed Sheeran #Wattys2016 #NewVoices

pep rally

*who else literally listens to Bridgette Mendler's album?*

Wednesday was the last football game of the season. The hype could be felt through the entire student body of Central. I, of course, hardly cared, because there were more important things than football, but Chelsea surprised me by texting me and telling me to wear my cheer outfit.

It was hanging up in my closet, wrapped in plastic from the last time it was dry cleaned. Most mothers just tossed the outfit into the washing machine, or their cheerleaders did it themselves, but oh no, not my mother. Cheerleading was second to ballet, and it was my mother's pride and joy. Copious amounts of pictures went onto MySpace while I was in my cheer uniform. My mother was front row, every game, making sure the world knew that I was her daughter. Supportive, she was, but she put all her eggs in the wrong basket.

I ditched the skirt and put on my top. It felt too high, exposing my stomach. Having not worked out for two almost three months, my stomach wasn't as defined as it used to be. I pinched the skin and frowned. "It's okay," I tell myself. No scales, no people to please. Just me and my new body.

I wheeled myself out of my room and into the kitchen. My mother was making a smoothie. She just about flipped when she saw me dressed up. "Oh my god! What's happening? Is there a game today? Why didn't you tell me?"

"We haven't been on good terms, lately, if I remember correctly," I say, biting back the sarcasm. "And I don't know what's happening. We have a pep rally today. There's a football game, but I don't really want to go."

"I can't make it anyways. I have a meeting." She said.

"A meeting?" I raised my eyebrows. It was weird thinking about my mother doing anything else other than things that revolved around me. I waited for her to talk more about it, but she didn't say anything. Mary Ella came out of the laundry room with my clothing in a wicker basket.

"Good morning." She greeted the both of us. She took a moment to examine my attire. "Is there something I don't know?"

"Not exactly," I say. "Chelsea told me to wear my outfit, so here I am."

"Oh. Well, text me if plans change today." Mary Ella told me. I agreed I would.

Mary Ella drove me to school and I remembered about Mr. Sullivan asking about her discretely. It wasn't really any of my business, but Mr. Sullivan was a wreck, and I saw him beating around the bush until it was too late. "Are you married, Mary Ella?" I asked her. She turned down the radio.

"I'm divorced, actually." She explained.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"I'm not!" She laughed. "I found him in bed with another woman!" A string of Spanish swears came from her.

I decided it was the perfect time to ask her. "Are you interested in Mr. Sullivan? I know he likes you because he always asks how you're doing even though he sees you every morning."

"Mr. Sullivan?" She says to herself. "I never thought about it."

"Well, life is too short," I warned her. "You should talk to him."

"Maybe I will." She said with a confidence I wish I had.

When she took me to the main office, Mr. Sullivan was just as bubbly as ever, a complete klutz around Mary Ella. Instead of dropping me off the way she usually did, Mary Ella decided to flirt with him.

"That's a really amazing scarf," she complimented him, taking the scarf in her hand. Mr. Sullivan's cheeks turned red and he looked down at her hand.

"Really?" He choked. "I mean, thank you."

Mary Ella batted her long eyelashes at him, and I couldn't help but laugh at my poor counselor's cluelessness.