Page 4 of The Masks We Wear

“Can you elaborate, please, Ms. Bolwig?” The words are meant to be friendly, but coming through bared teeth, I know she hears the bite in them.

“You have an average record, but nothing to stand out for the program you’re seeking at Kentucky.”

My mouth pops open in protest, but she holds a hand up. “Cheer captain. Yes, I know. And winning regionals this year will do wonders, but you need to be more than a pretty face and a goodtumbler.”

She spits the last word out as if it’s a curse. A good tumbler. Anger and irritation ripple down my body, and I can swear someone turned on the heater. I wipe my brow with the back of my hand as I search for the right words.

I’m smart, not like an Amelia Earhart, but I’m smart enough. Most notable of all, I am the best damn cheerleader and captain to come out of Emerald Falls since 1974. Which says something considering it’s a big city with twelve different high schools scrambling for that title. I’ve brought more recognition to EFH than our most prized football players. Not to mention my girls rock out every damn appearance, which takes real leadership skills. I’m not just a goodtumbler.

“I want to switch a course you’re currently in. I know it’s late in the semester, but Mr. Jones said he’d be happy to have you.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Mr. Jones teaches AP Sciences…”

She huffs. “To be a slightly above average student, you can be rather dense, Miss Conley.”

I bite my tongue to keep the retort from seeping out. Whether I like her snide-ass comments or not, the woman is known for making things happen, and I need to get into Kentucky.

“He is taking his students to a competition. I think it would be just the thing to lift your head above the sea of other cheerleaders clawing their way to that university.”

She keeps talking about some competition, but I’m not listening. The only one I’m worried about is regionals and all the practices in between. Cheerleading didn’t come naturally to me. I had—have—to work on it every damn day. It’s a commitment that most marriages don’t have, and I bleed my soul into it each passing second. I deserve to go to Kentucky.

Go big, or go home, and I’ll be damned if I stay here. Especially now.

I grimace but finally nod in approval. I don’t intend toclawmy way anywhere. I’ve put countless hours into paving the road myself, and I plan to walk on it in six-inch heels and a fresh manicure. Even at the expense of setting half my garden on fire to rid it of one particular weed.

She scribbles something on a pad before tearing it from the yellow backing. “Good choice. Take this to the registrar and hurry along. His period starts in ten minutes.”

I take the paper from her gingerly, careful not to snatch it, murmuring a quick “thanks.” My eyes drift to the pictures on the wall one last time before slipping out of her office.

This had better be worth it.

Managing to slink past the cafeteria and down the AP hallway, I take a deep breath. As much as I want to focus on the shitty words of Ms. Bolwig, I can’t help but wonder why Spencer acted like he didn’t know me...

A tingle creeps up my spine, and my ears ring with the whispers of what this could mean—the things people could find out. Image is everything here. I’ve spent a long time polishing myself to the perfect shine, careful to get inside all the nooks and crannies.

He can expose my rusted core in seconds.

Fear takes over, weakening my knees to the point I have to lean against the set of lockers on my right. The smooth metal cools my back as I take a few more breaths.

I can’t let him say anything.

My wheels begin to turn, ideas forming on how I can keep my old friend quiet. There is one thing that might—

“Mija, how did your meeting go?”

I freeze, and my idea on the verge of creation vanishes, replaced by my shoulders tensing back up. Whirling around, my mother stands at the edge of the hall. She smooths down her navy uniform with one hand and holds on to an oversized trash bin with the other. A misplaced, warm smile spread across her face.

My eyes dart around, making sure no one is coming. She’s never supposed to be here before five. By then, we don’t risk the chance of running into each other. Sounds shitty, but if the Queen of Emerald High’s mom was exposed as the school’s head custodian, nothing I’ve done in this place would matter. I’d lose my spot faster than Amora’s skirt after a game.

The curious part of me wants to ask how she knows I was meeting with Ms. Bolwig, but instead, I feign a bored expression. “Dandy.”

Her smile fades, replaced by the snarl of her true form. “Such a stupid girl. I bet you won’t make it to that cheer school.”

I latch a finger around my necklace, pulling it side to side. “Hmm, see ya.”

I don’t wait for a response and turn toward Mr. Wilson’s class. The last thing I want to do is invoke her wrath and chance someone seeing. Straightening my spine, I flip my golden locks over my shoulder and open the door, letting the day’s shit show stay behind me. At this point, I don’t think it could get much worse.

Let’s do this.

---