amelia dixon is a freshman in college﹔ she always knew she was smart, so when the new history teacher gives her a D+ in her strongest subject, she doesn't react kindly. watch how the back & forth pushes them both down the rabbit hole.
this story wil...
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Amelia sprinted through the girls' locker room doors, bustling through teenage girls & their clouds of perfume. She made her way to throw the drawstring inside of a locker, but Gracie was waiting for her beside the door.
〝Oh, boo. You made it. I was hoping Professor Greaves would keep you behind, but then again, I see why not.〞Gracie tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight to her right leg as she surveyed Amelia.
〝He understood that you needed me here as fast possible to save this cheer routine,〞condescending words fell from Amelia's lips like acid rainfall. 〝If you'd excuse me, I need to prepare in order to do that and serve our school well.〞She continued past Gracie, her shoulder connecting to the other girl's with a huff. Amelia wasted no time in putting away her bag and relacing her shoes. The other female couldn't bother her—she'd met worse in her parents' line of work. Examples are better left unspoken.
The cheer team traveled to the field in a straight line, pom-poms in hand. They marched right into the swirling aroma of popcorn, hotdogs, perfume, and the freshly mowed field. Players' parents sported team merchandise. Students flooded into the student section of the bleachers—girls flaunted their figures and team spirit in cropped jerseys, and many men hollered in the front row with blue and white paint on their chests. Most of the guys in the bleachers were wearing their best friend's numbers—these things brought everyone out.
The handsprings and chants didn't begin until after first quarter. Gracie stood in front of the cheerleaders, hands on her hips as if to assert her dominance as captain. She'd been barking orders all night like a sergeant. It became even more of a mystery to Amelia as to why Gracie had ever been voted captain. Fear manipulation, she assumed. The buzzers rang through the stadium as it hit half–time. Football players yanked their helmets off and smacked them against each other. Foster had noticed Amelia—she'd nearly forgotten about him and their debacle, until he locked into her gaze. It became a purposeful leer to get under the cheerleader's skin, but she wanted none of it. Sure enough, he jogged to their position to rub more salt in the wound.
〝Girls!〞he cooed, coming up behind Gracie. 〝Don't bother cheerleaders during th—〞Gracie's instant impulse to nag ceased once she saw the male who was now beside her. Her demeanor changed almost instantly—twirling the ends of her blonde locks, eyelashes batting, radiant teeth exposed with forced giggles. Amelia folded her arms across her chest, a styled brow quirking up. It became evident, very quickly enough, that the two people she'd already grown to dislike were the prime agitating pair of the university. Typical. Should've seen it coming.
