Page 25 of Cruel Steps

Music played, and I held my breath as the routine started. I had no frame of reference for what made a dancer good. And while I hoped Mer was good enough to make it, I’d also experienced her clumsiness multiple times on campus. But as I watched her dance, it was clear she wasn’t just good; she was fucking fantastic.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. My heart slowed, and I leaned forward, wishing I could be closer. Managing to pull my eyes away, I glanced around at the girls who’d been whispering earlier and saw the real reason they’d been doing it—jealousy and fear. Every single dancer on the sidelines looked on in envy.

Happiness raced through me, and I hoped it meant she’d be in. When the song ended, I pouted, wishing it wasn’t over. I wanted to watch Mer dance more.

The senior girls at the table whispered, and I watched with bated breath along with the dancers. When they separated, I could tell they weren’t in agreement. Kimmy picked up the megaphone, her voice shrill as she shouted into it.

“The following numbers have made it onto round three. Everyone else is dismissed. Numbers #12, #34, and #50, you have five minutes to stretch and give your music for your solo routine.”

I scanned Mer, searching for her number, and sighed in relief when I spotted the #50. Releasing a breath, adrenaline pumped harder at how close she was. There was no doubt in my mind she’d make it now.

The rest of the girls moved to the stands, their displeasure at being cut obvious as they shot daggers at Mer. Somehow, my girl ignored it and focused on herself as she prepared to dance again. It was the most confident I’d ever seen her, and I knew dance was where she felt the most like herself.

Number 12 went first, and her routine was good, but it had no passion behind it. I didn’t need to know anything about dancing other than I grew bored watching. She was a copy image of Kimmy, Brittany, and Leigh, the senior girls at the table, so she’d fit right in.

Next up was #34, and she was better than the copycat girl. Her movements were graceful and sharp. She took this audition seriously, knowing she had to prove she wanted it. Despite that, it didn’t have the same zing I felt when watching Mer.

Finally, it was Mer’s turn, and the gymnasium held its breath as Meghan Trainor’s “No” played. Instantly, I knew Mer’s skills far outweighed the other two. She jumped higher, spun faster, and had more passion in every move than either of them had. The others were performing a routine, but Mer was the routine. She flipped in the air with no hands, and I gulped, my heart jumping to my throat at the move.

I wanted to yell at her for scaring me, but she’d done it flawlessly, garnering gasps from the spectators. My eyes drank in every bit of her, not because of the tight shorts and tank she wore, but eager to see what she’d do next. She reminded me of Holden and how he was on the football field. Watching him interpret the plays and make moves was magical, owning every inch of the gridiron. Holden was meant to play football, and Mer was meant to dance.

If there were only two absolutes in the world, it would be that.

When she finished, I felt like I’d been on an emotional journey with her. My heart thumped wildly beneath my chest, and my palms were sweaty on the railing. Licking my lips, I waited with my heart in a chokehold. It felt more important than anything I’d ever done in my life.

The senior girls huddled together, more bickering back and forth this time. Leigh repeatedly pointed to her paper, trying to get a point across. It felt like forever before they stopped and turned toward the three girls standing before them. Brittany picked up the megaphone this time, a coy smile on her lips.

“We have two spots to fill this year, and we thank everyone who came out and auditioned for the Wolfettes! Let’s give a cheer for everyone!”

The group cheered, whooping and hollering as they rubbed their mismatched pom-poms back and forth.

“The first girl to earn a spot is #34. Come and get your pom-poms, Jenny!” She picked up a pair of teal ones on the table and shook them for the girl. Jenny ran forward, smiling as she accepted them, and hugged Kimmy and Leigh, who welcomed her.

“And our last spot will be given to Number 12! Come and get your pom-poms, Kara!”

I blinked, convinced I’d misheard. There was no way Mer hadn’t made it. She’d been better than both of those girls. Again, the need to jump over the rail rushed at me. I wanted to run to her and hold her. To soothe her and tell her it didn’t matter.

Mer turned and walked off, keeping her head high as she gathered her belongings. She jerkily shoved her feet into leggings and pulled on the tank she’d worn earlier.

“Which makes Number 50 our alternate,” Brittany snickered. Mer froze and turned back to the table. “Come and get your mascot uniform, Emmy.” Kimmy held the wolf’s head, an evil grin on her face. Leigh frowned, but didn’t intervene. Out of the three of them, she was the one I knew the least.

Mer looked between the table and the stands, and I knew she was debating whether or not to accept it. Finally, she stood straight, walked calmly over to the table, and took the costume. The five girls watched her, huddled together, making it obvious she was the outsider.

Rage pumped through my body, and I barely held myself back from making a scene. Neither of us needed that, though. Plus, I doubted Mer wanted me to fight her battles for her.

I didn’t know why they hadn’t picked her, but I knew it wasn’t because she couldn’t dance. For once, I was glad to be the confidant of the girls on campus. I’d use my network to find out what was happening. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but suspected Hope was behind it.

The rest of the girls dispersed, and I headed down the side stairwell, hoping to catch Mer before she left. She might not have made the team, but I’d be a smiling face for her. And maybe I’d get to kiss her again. Commiseration kisses were a thing, right?

CHAPTER

TWELVE

EMERSON

Face hot with embarrassment, I slung the bag with the mascot uniform over my shoulder and rushed out the door. It took everything in me not to shove the damn thing back at them. But they wanted me to make a scene, and I was petty enough not to give it to them. Besides, my goal had been achieved, just slightly different than I’d expected.

It wouldn’t have the same sting for Hope, but she’d still hate that I was associated with the Wolfettes, and that felt just as good right now.

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