Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Kellan and Noah moved into position; their hands steady as I stepped into their hold for the lift. I trusted these two without question. They had been my primary base for the past two years and had never let me down, figuratively speaking. The chill of the evening air stung my legs, but adrenaline drowned out the discomfort.
They hoisted me high into a prep, and my arms snapped into a V, my balance rock-solid. Roxxi’s gaze slid to me briefly, a slight smile on her lips. On either side of us, Layla and Brittany mirrored the move, their extensions steady as the rest of the team executed a synchronized jump. The routine unfolded like clockwork, each move feeding into the next. My guys dipped, their grips firm as we transitioned into the next stunt. At the count, they threw me higher. I twisted mid-air into a Scorpion; my leg arched behind me in a perfect curve.
The lights of the field blurred momentarily before I locked into the pose, holding it steady until Roxxi shouted, “Cradle!”
I braced for the drop, letting Noah and Kellan catch me before they eased me back into a reload.
“Pyramid!”
Kellan and Noah crouched, forming the foundation for two of our other squad members, Sydney and Zara, to climb. I moved to the center, scaling Noah’s broad shoulders to take my place at the peak. The music swelled, and the entire formation leaned into the energy. My arms shot out into another high V as the chorus rang out, a gust of chilled air whipping through my hair.
“Hold it!” Roxxi commanded.
Each of us locked in our position as the anthem reached its crescendo. The pyramid felt unshakable, a testament to our teamwork and Roxxi’s relentless drive. As the final note of the bridge faded, I was lowered into a flawless dismount, and the entire team exploded into our synchronized choreography to close out the routine. By the time the music died down, there was only the sound of our labored breathing and the distant rumbling of the football team.
Roxxi clapped her hands, her expression unreadable, but her tone satisfied.
“Not bad. Let’s run it again in a few and make it perfect. We’ll freeze our asses off out here if we have to.”
She meant that wholeheartedly.
We had a rivalry game in two weeks, leaving only a few practices between now and then. Our routine needed to be flawless, our moves in perfect sync. We had to nail this. And we would, thanks to Roxxanne. Mrs. Gale, our head coach, might as well have been one of the many leaves covering the ground outside The Pit, our affectionately named playing field, for all her presence was worth.
She was more than content to let Roxxi run the show. She'd sit back, arms crossed, watching her direct us through stunts and transitions. That’s what made Roxxi the heart and soul of our team, the one who handled everything from choreography to lineup changes, keeping us focused and pushing for us to be our best. It was when competition season rolled around that Mrs. Gale transformed herself into someone else entirely. Suddenly, she was front and center, taking no one’s shit. She became our biggest advocate, fighting for every resource, every inch of practice space, and every opportunity to get us an edge over the competition. It was that duality that made her vital.
Mr. Kruger, the assistant coach, was good for us, too, whenever he actually came to work. I didn't know how that man was still employed. I swear I’d seen random strangers on the streets more than I ever had him.
“That was so good!” Layla panted once she was at my side, her grin wide. “We’re going to crush it next week.”
“After we do this at least a dozen more times,” I muttered.
Roxxi circled around us, her long, red ponytail swishing as she high-fived one of the other girls. She thrived on this intensity, the need for perfection seeping into every practice. She didn’t accept anything less, even from me. I couldn’t pull the, I’m your best friend-practically sister card and skate by doing the bare minimum. Not that I would, anyways. As one of the main flyers, my position was too coveted, and I had busted my ass to earn it.
We split apart, and I grabbed my water bottle from the sidelines, savoring the cool, refreshing liquid as I sank onto the grass for a breather. Arianna joined me moments later; her dark hair twisted into a messy bun. A soft smile was on her lips as she pushed her glasses up and tugged her Crowsfell hoodie down, settling beside me. She wasn’t on the squad, but she came for a good number of our practices, her quiet moral support a constant, just like Cloe’s, who was perched on the bleachers with her camera, snapping candid shots. She loved freezing these fleeting moments, little pieces of us in motion, unguarded and real. She was good too. Her photos were always chosen for the Inkwell, Crowsfell’s media journal.