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A YEAR AGO

If there was one thing in the world I hated more than losing, it was losing and having to keep a fake, sweet smile on my face while receiving the second-place trophy.

It was undeniable proof of my failure.

I had failed myself. I had failed my team.

The sting in my eyes wasn’t from sadness—it was from pure, unfiltered loathing. I couldn’t understand how we had lost so many points. I knew that in this sport, everything came down to tenths of a point, but still, it didn’t feel right. The falsies gluedto my lashes felt heavier than ever, weighing me down as if the humiliation wasn’t enough.

Veronica Torres. Her name burned in my mind. That was the name of the little parasite who had stolen my trophy. Her team of misfits had entered the state competition as the underdogs, only to walk away as champions. The audacity!

I refused to accept that I had lost to those talentless nobodies, led by Thumbelina herself. Veronica didn’t even know how to do a proper pirouette, and yet there she was, basking in her undeserved glory.

“Ken, you need to calm down,” Delilah, my best friend and teammate, whispered beside me.

Her voice softened the storm in my head just a little. I turned to meet her gaze, her steady brown eyes grounding me. I reached out, touching her hand briefly. For a moment, the shared smile between us reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this, even if the sting of defeat was mine to bear.

I picked up the small, underwhelming second-place trophy, holding it up high for the cameras. The crowd’s lukewarm applause stabbed at me, but I swallowed the bitterness.

I hated the helplessness—the choking feeling of knowing there was nothing I could do to change the outcome. But one thing was clear: I was better than Veronica Torres and her pathetic excuse for a team.

This loss wouldn’t define me. I would make sure of that. One day, soon, I’d be a part of the Venenum Cheer Team, the most feared college cheerleading team in the country. Their name, "Venenum," Latin for poison, suited them perfectly. They were the poison to the competition.

I clenched the trophy in my hand, a sharp promise running through my mind. This moment of failure would become nothing more than a faint memory—something I could laugh about later.

And the best part? I would never have to see Veronica Torres again. Ever.

When you thought about cheerleaders, the first thing that came to mind was: blonde and dumb, but not necessarily in that order. And maybe for someone who was just ahigh school cheerleaderthis really was the case just a few dance moves and some pom poms shaking, while doing so would elevate her status within one of the most unbearable phases of life.

Maybe she would couple up with the captain of whatever sports team and be the homecoming queen. After all, that's what the media constantly reproduced about cheerleaders; That’s the version Hollywood loves to shove down our throats.

But as much as I adoreBring It On, that portrayal isn’t even a fraction of what being a real cheerleader entail. Especially not when you’re aiming to secure a spot in a competitive college athletic program. I knew I needed to work twice as hard as I had been doing my whole life, but that was well rewarded when Belinda Stone's acceptance letter arrived at my house. Sure,the college isn’t exactly Ivy League—more like second or third tier—but their cheerleading team? National champions fourteen times. That’s the kind of legacy worth fighting for.

“Hey, babe!” Martin stretched out between the front seats and showed me his cell phone. It was a picture of us. “Can I post this one?”

I stared at the phone and the photo, being pulled back to reality. My brother almost groaned at being there, giving me and my brother a ride to college.

“Send it to me, I’ll edit it” I asked gently. And Martin Jeffery caved. MJ, as we called him, was my high school sweetheart. We had been together since the beginning of high school and it was amazing to have found someone so young.

I got my cell phone and opened the photo Martin had texted me.

“Babe, by AirDrop. This way you won’t lose quality.”

I noticed MJ's blonde hair and the tangle of his curls. The slightly faded tone was due to the chlorine in the pool, a small disadvantage when dating a swimmer.

“Even I know that,buddy... “Derek teased him.

My older brother wasn't a fan of MJ. He didn't hate him or treat him badly, but for some reason, my brother didn't like my boyfriend that much. Most of the time, I didn't even care about it, but when you were in a car with the two of them for hours, the senseless teasing started to get annoying.

“Derek, cut it off!” I snapped.

MJ did as I asked and I quickly edited the photo while The Maine played through the car's amps.

My brother rolled his eyes and remained focused on the road. According to the GPS, it would only take us another half hour to reach Belinda Stone. And it would take Derek another hour and a half to get to his university, the famous Knox College. Luckily for me, MJ would be studying at the same university as me.

“Do you have practice today?” Derek asked before picking up his thermos full of black coffee and taking a good sip.

“Yes…” I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. The hours in the car were already making me exhausted, but I could still feel a certain excitement about meeting the Venenum, Belinda Stone's winning team.