The read receipt appears. I stare at the screen, waiting for the ellipsis to pop up, to signal that he or she is typing. My stomach sinks lower with every moment that goes by and the screen is still blank.
I reach over to my nightstand. The second I set my phone down, the screen lights up.
My fingers are flying over the keyboard so quickly I screw up the message twice and have to retype it.
I hit SEND. Lean back into my headboard, holding out the phone in front of me with one hand and covering my mouth with the other.
Five minutes go by without a response. I blink, warding off tears of frustration, and text him or her again.
I watch the screen, desperate, but this time an answer comes quickly.
Then:
FIVE YEARS AGO
AUGUST
Jen never wanted to be on top. The top was for petite girls, like Juliana, or pea-shoot-thin girls like Susan, muscles toned from years of tennis. Jen, who’d shot up like a sunflower the summer before eighth grade, knew she was forever relegated to being a base. And she was fine with that—she’d accepted her position as one of the hazards of being a tall girl. Flying was simply a thing she’d never be able to do, like wear high heels or date a guy under six feet.
Her sister, who had just started middle school, was going through her own growth spurt. Monica’d already had several meltdowns about her new body. She towered over all the girls in her ballet class, and the boy who sat behind her in math asked to switch seats because her head was blocking the chalkboard.
Jen wanted to grab Monica and shake her sometimes. The boys will go through puberty soon! There are worse things in life than being tall!
Mom was always telling Jen to chill. Monica was only eleven, and Jen had also been the worst when she was eleven.
Jen would kill to be eleven again.
“Five, six, seven, eight!” Allie—she refused to let the girls call her Coach—singsonged the numbers. Jen cupped her hands over her partner’s, knees bent so they could lift Juliana.
Juliana’s hands barely seemed to touch Jen’s shoulders as she popped up. The other fliers put all their weight on the bases’ shoulders, the girls buckling under the weight. Juliana, who was barely five-one, had a rare mix of grace and athleticism.
The other girls only had one of the two, if they were lucky. The truly cumbersome girls were sidelined during the stunts, left to do the pom-pom waving and actual cheering.
Jen knew she was more athletic than graceful. She’d wanted to be a gymnast as a kid but lacked the focus or discipline of the girls who trained at Jessie’s Gym six days a week. She’d played softball and basketball in middle school; it had been Juliana’s idea to try out for cheerleading the summer before high school.
Jen was grateful for her arm strength as she launched Juliana into a perfect toe touch. Juliana landed in the girls’ outstretched arms, legs together and feet pointed.
“Nice, Ruiz!” Allie clapped her hands. “Take five and we’ll run it from the top.”
Jen stole a look at Susan’s face as the girls broke formation, moved into their clusters. Susan divided her ponytail in two and yanked to tighten it, eyes cast down. No doubt feeling the sting of Allie not complimenting her performance. Susan was programmed that way—to believe she was a failure when she wasn’t the best.
Jen wondered how much Mrs. Berry had to do with that. Susan’s mom was always there at the end of practice, always asking how you were doing, offering everyone rides home with a smile that made Jen wonder if she was secretly a psycho.
“What’s wrong, J-Ray?” Juliana flicked Jen’s bun.
Jen moved a hand to her neck, disoriented by the nickname Juliana had given her this summer. “Nothing.”
Juliana’s gaze swept past Jen as quickly as it had landed on her. Jen turned to see what Juliana was staring at. Or rather, who: Carly Amato, who had transferred to Sunnybrook at the end of last year.
Juliana gave Jen’s forearm a squeeze. “Be right back.”
Jen thought of the county fair, only a couple of weeks ago. She was waiting in line for the bathroom trailers, while Susan and Juliana were getting refills on their sodas. Whoever was in the bathroom was taking forever; just as Jen was about to give up and find a bathroom somewhere else, two girls stumbled out, helping each other down the steps.
One of the girls locked eyes with her.
“Hey.” Carly drew out the word. Her friend giggled. Jen forced out a smile.
Carly’s eyes weren’t bloodshot, like she was drunk or stoned. But her pupils were black holes, her spidery lashes blinking manically.
The girls stumbled off. Jen watched them link arms, sidestepping a couple pushing a double stroller. The father looked over his shoulder, shaking his head at Carly and her friend.
They wound up at an ice cream truck, talking to two guys. One was tall and lanky with tanned shoulders and thick brown hair that curled around his ears. The other was shorter, more muscular, blond, his eyes hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans.
Carly laughed at something the blond guy said, reaching over and giving him a playful shove. Jen wondered how they could be so easy with guys they just met. She thought of the look in Carly’s eyes. The way she’d wiped her nose.
She hadn’t told anyone, but watching Juliana tot off toward Carly, Jen wished she had.
Susan appeared at Jen’s side, squeezing the empty water bottle in her hand as if it were a stress ball.
“When did Juliana and Carly become best friends?” Jen asked.
Susan stopped squeezing her water bottle. “Cheer camp, probably. Why? You jealous or something?”
Jen knew Susan was messing with her, but she still felt a tug in her chest. The past summer had been the first she, Juliana, and Susan had been apart. Susan had forgone two weeks away at USA Cheer for an SAT prep course, while Jen spent most of her days entertaining her younger siblings for ten bucks an hour so her mother could go back to work full-time now that Petey was in kindergarten.
Susan and Jen eyed Juliana and Carly. Juliana said something that sent Carly’s head back in laughter. Jen felt unease settle over her, followed by a primal urge to yank Carly away from Jules.
“I don’t trust her,” Jen said to Susan. What she really meant was Carly scares the shit out of me, but Susan didn’t even seem to be listening. The gears in her brain were probably turning over the homework she had to do when she got home, mentally organizing her binders with those colored tabs Jen and Juliana made fun of her for getting excited about.
“Please, Allie.” Carly’s manufactured baby voice carried across the gym. “Just let us show you!”
“Show what?” Jen found herself across the mat from Juliana, Carly, and a pocket of seniors who had Allie surrounded.
“A swan dive.” Carly’s gaze raked over Jen like she’d never seen her before in her life. “Our group leader at camp taught us how to do one.”
“Well, that was super irresponsible of her,” Allie said. “They’re illegal at the high school level.”
A chorus of just let us try it/it’s not like we’d do it in competition/come on, Allie, pleeeeease from the rest of the girls. Allie, fearing mutiny, held up her hands.
“We can maybe try it after we run through the routine.”
“Yaaaaaas!” Carly grabbed Juliana, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Juju was so good at it.”
Juju? What the hell? Jen tried to catch Juliana’s eye, but the other girls were already crowding her.
“What even is a swan dive?” one of the seniors asked.
“I’ll show you guys,” Carly said. “There’s videos on YouTube.”
Allie sighed in defeat, backed away to let the girls scramble onto the mat. Carly lay down at the head of the pack, holding her phone so everyone could see the video she’d pulled up.