Cheerleaders Don't Cry

29

*TRIGGER WARNING*

Josephine Pritchett

2 weeks ago

Amber hadn't said anything all hour.

She'd walked into AP Physics ten minutes late. Her previous class was just across the hallway, AP Spanish. For the past year, she'd regularly been the first person in the room, claiming the same seat in the front row. Not today, apparently. Amber passed over the front row to take a seat in the third, even though there'd been an empty seat right beside me. Her usual care-free demeanor felt uncharacteristically burdened - you could tell just by looking at her. Shoulders hunched, arms crossed and held close to her stomach, eyes downcast. An almost-frown teased the corners of her mouth. Maybe it had something to do with the freshly decapitated mascot erect in front of the school.

Halfway through the class, the teacher handed out worksheets to be completed with a partner. I quickly crossed the room and snagged the empty seat in front of Amber, sitting down right as one of the junior boys in the class started approaching. He sent me a harsh look before returning to his chair, where one of his classmates fistbumped him for the effort.

Amber didn't look up. She curled her hair today - thick black waves that tumbled down her back and somehow didn't disturb her. I could never wear my hair down because it was always getting in my way. It seemed as if Amber's hair was sentient and responded to her wishes, artfully arranging itself exactly as she wanted it. She didn't appear to be wearing any makeup, aside from a few brushstrokes of mascara that made her brown eyes seem deeper than usual.

I felt a pinch in my chest and quickly looked away, refocusing on the worksheet in front of me.

I had to stop doing that. I already spent more time browsing her Instagram page than was appropriate for a best friend.

"You look pretty," was all that I said.

The corners of Amber's lips briefly turned upwards into something that was almost a smile. She always took comments like that at surface level. Just girls complimenting girls. But when Travis used to do it, it'd make her entire face turn scarlet, make her twist a lock of hair about her index finger and look up shyly through her lashes, "really?".

Amber had transferred in halfway through sophomore year. She'd arrived late to cheerleading practice, wide eyed and flustered, hovering in the entrance of the gym with her duffel bag in hand. Her hair had been shorter then, pulled back into a ponytail, bangs falling into her eyes. I was closest to the door, so I was the first person she looked at. The first person she smiled at. "Sorry I'm late."

We worked in silence for the majority of the hour. When the bell rang, Amber immediately began packing up. She still had said nothing.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, following her to hand in my completed worksheet to the teacher.

Amber glanced over her shoulder in my direction, avoiding my gaze. She shook her head.

I followed her out of the classroom. She was heading to her locker, which was two hallways in the opposite direction of my next class. But that didn't matter at the moment.

The hallway was abuzz with gossip. Everybody had seen the tarp over the statue this morning. Amber kept her head down, hugging her textbooks to her chest as she navigated the noise. People seemed to move out her way whenever they saw her. Their conversations would stall momentarily as she passed by. It'd been like that since everybody found out about Marcy and Travis.

Amber hadn't said anything about it. She hasn't spoken to Travis since - though it's not like he needed an explicit message to know that they were through. The engraved necklace that he'd given her stayed around her neck for at least two weeks after it happened. She didn't take it off until I pointed it out. I think she'd gotten so used to wearing it that she'd forgotten it was there.