I have some concerns about my daughter's safety at your school. Of course, Commander. What seems to be the problem? Malcolm slid a tablet across the desk. This is security footage from yesterday's cheerleading tryout.
I'd like you to explain what we're seeing here. Principal Harrison's face went pale as he watched Madison deliberately spill water in front of Alana's routine. Furthermore, Malcolm continued, "I've done some research on your cheerleading program. It seems there's a pattern of incidents involving students who don't fit the traditional profile. Commander Johnson, I assure you Mr.
Harrison, Malcolm's voice carried the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. I've served three tours protecting the freedoms that make schools like this possible. I won't stand by while my daughter is targeted for exercising those freedoms. During lunch, Alana sat alone when she noticed other students staring at their phones, then at her. Her phone buzzed with a notification.
Someone had posted a video compilation titled New Girl's Greatest Hits, making her look arrogant and entitled. The comments were vicious. Who does she think she is? Typical diversity hire. Send her back where she came from.
But this time, Alana wasn't shaken. Her father had prepared her for psychological warfare. She calmly screenshotted everything, building a file just as he taught her. Rough day? Jake Martinez, the quarterback, slid into the seat across from her.
Just documenting Westfield traditions, Alana replied, showing him the phone. Jake's face darkened. Madison's behind this. She's been perfecting this since middle school. Any advice?
Don't let her change who you are. She wins when you start playing her game. Their conversation was interrupted by Madison's arrival. Jake, honey, she purred possessively. I didn't know you were friends with our new student.
Just being welcoming, Jake replied stiffly. How sweet. But Jake's practically engaged to our head cheerleader. Madison's smile was razor sharp. Alana stood gathering her things.
Actually, I was just leaving. Thanks, Jake. But as she walked away, her phone buzzed with a text from her father. Game's tonight. Time for the real education to begin.
The football game that night drew the entire community. Alana sat in the student section watching Madison command the cheerleading squad with military precision, but also noting the fear in the other girls' eyes. At halftime, with the team trailing by two touchdowns, the cheerleaders attempted an elaborate routine to rally the crowd, but something went wrong. Britney missed a crucial catch, and the formation collapsed. This is what happens when we lower standards, Madison snapped at her injured teammate loud enough for everyone to hear.
Some people aren't cut out for this level. Alana felt something snap. She had watched her father comfort wounded soldiers. This wasn't leadership. It was cruelty.
Without thinking, she vaulted the railing and jogged toward the cheerleaders. Is she okay? She asked, kneeling beside Britney, who was clutching her wrist. She's fine, Madison said sharply. Get back where you belong.