We are going to have an incredible season. Thanks, Madison. I can't wait to get started. Don't let anyone make you feel like you don't belong, okay? You earned this just like the rest of us.
The very fact that Madison felt compelled to utter those words confirmed Zara's burgeoning suspicion. People were indeed talking. During lunch, she sat with her usual group of friends from the Honor Society when Tyler Knox ambled past their table. His shoulder brushed her chair with enough force to jolt her backward. "Oops," he said, continuing without pausing or looking back.
"Sorry about that." Her friend Jessica frowned. That was odd. Tyler's never that clumsy. Maybe he's having an off day, Zara replied, though she was already meticulously cataloging the incident in her mind. The true message arrived during 7th period study hall.
Zara pulled out her phone to check the time and discovered a notification from Instagram. Someone had tagged her in a post. The image was a screenshot of the school's announcement regarding the new cheer team with Zara's name circled in red. The caption read, "Guess Westfield's going woke now. R I P real eagle pride.
Fran, not my cheerleader." The post had already garnered 37 likes and a handful of comments that churned her stomach. Most were carefully phrased to avoid outright slurs, but the underlying message was undeniably clear. Diversity hire much. She doesn't even look like she belongs here. There goes the neighborhood.
Zara meticulously screenshotted everything before blocking the account which belonged to an individual named Eagle Pride 2024, a patently fictitious identity. Her hands trembled slightly as she put her phone away. That afternoon at cheer practice, the tension was palpable. Coach Peterson led them through basic routines, but Zara could sense the furtive glances from some of her teammates. Madison and a few others were genuinely welcoming, but others seemed to be observing, anticipating what might unfold.
"All right, ladies, let's run through the homecoming routine one more time," Coach Peterson called out. "Zara, you'll be in the back row for now until you familiarized yourself with all the formations." "As they lined up, Britney Stevens, a junior with impeccably curled blonde hair, positioned herself directly in front of Zara. During the routine, she repeatedly took a slight step backward, forcing Zara to adjust her spacing. "Sorry," Britney would whisper each time, still getting accustomed to the new formation. By the end of practice, Zara had been stepped on twice and elbowed once during a turn sequence, all presented as unintentional, according to Britney's apologetic smile.
Walking to her car afterward, Zara noticed the football team concluding their practice on the adjacent field. Jake Morrison was engrossed in conversation with Coach Reynolds. Both men were glancing toward the parking lot where the cheerleaders were loading their gear. Her phone buzzed with a text from her father. "How was the first practice, Warrior?" "Fine," she typed back, then deleted it.
"Good. Learning the routines. Pick you up for dinner. Want to hear all about it? I'll drive myself home.
See you there." That evening, seated across from her father at their kitchen table, Zara picked at her grilled chicken while Commander Washington observed her with the intense focus that had defined his career as an effective military leader. You're rather quiet tonight, he commented. Just tired. New team, a lot to absorb. Uh-huh.