The Test of Time

18 ~ June

"I really don't have time for Ashley to be late." I moan quietly.

"I don't know why she's the captain," Becky replies, "Her only talent is sucking off boys." She continues and I splutter, choking on my drink as I laugh.

"Sorry I'm late, I was busy with Brett." Ashley calls out as she slips into the room, smoothing down her hair with a big grin on her face. Becky shoots me a wink and I can't help but burst into giggles, despite the slight ache in my chest at the thought of Ashley and Brett. "Let's go through the routine for Friday's game girls." She exclaims, turning the music on as we slip into the routine. I fade into the back row, dancing halfheartedly.

It's not like it matters, no-one can see me back here anyway. The girls beside me are all first years, throwing their heart and soul into the routine in the hopes that they will move up rows as soon as possible. I know better than any of them that Ashley won't move them, only her carefully selected friends benefiting from that.

I remember when I was their age, just starting out in the cheerleading team. Ashley was just like me then, grinning from ear to ear as she cheered, desperate to be spotted by the head cheerleader, Rhiannon. She ended up replacing Rhiannon within six months, throwing her off the team. The rumor circulated that Rhiannon did drugs, buying them from the dodgy motel down on Watling Street. I'm not sure if she truly did, but Ashley cultivated that rumor and increased it tenfold. Rhiannon didn't stand a chance.

Poor Rhiannon, I wonder what she's doing now, years later. Hopefully she moved away, got into a decent college despite the record on her file. I hope she managed to get far away from the devil that is Ashley Farrier. That's all I ever wish for.

I have to get into college. I honestly have no idea what I'll do if I can't, it's been my dream for as long as I can remember. When I was six I told my Father I was going to go to Stanford University, him laughing and telling me to slow down. I was so excited at the prospect of college and he bought me a Stanford hoodie for Christmas that year. I still have it, tucked away under my bed somewhere.

Grabbing hold of Phoebe I hoist her up with the other cheerleaders, chucking her into the air.

"No no!" Ashley yells, "Beth what are you doing?"

"I'm trying..." Becky snaps back, holding Chelsea up by her ankle, her arms wobbling.

"Try harder." Ashley retorts and I roll my eyes as she walks away, before sending a sympathetic gaze to Becky. We continue, lowering Phoebe to the ground and settling ourselves into three lines, beginning Ashley's perfectly choreographed routine.

According to Ashley the routine is good enough to win her a medal. I don't agree. It reminds me of a flash mob, except it looks like no-one ever planned it, and no-one knows what they are doing.

"Beth!" Ashley hollers once more, "Are you on your period or something today?" She snorts, "Something's off." She comes to a stop in front of Becky, her arms crossed, "Whatever it is, I don't care. Pull it together or you're off the team."

"Sorry." Becky replies, clearly attempting to hold her tongue, her lips pursed, her jaw tense. I know Becky, and she's just about ready to explode.

"Beth, your posture is awful. Are you ninety?"

"Leave her alone!"

What? Who said that?

Oh my god it was me.

"Excuse me?" Ashley takes five steps towards me, her hands on her hips, the rest of the cheerleaders watching with wide eyes.

"I said leave her alone." I repeat. Do you have a death wish Savannah? It would appear so.