Paisley’s mouth morphed into a barely visible scowl. “We talked about this.…”
I pulled my shoulders back. I almost laughed in Paisley’s face. She saw a chance to be at the top of the proverbial pyramid without me at last and she grabbed for it. The funny thing was, she was only a week too late. A few days ago, I probably would have slithered away and skulked into social obscurity. Anything to avoid the confrontation. But I wasn’t ready to go now. Not yet. Not this way.
I drew myself up to my full measure. I positioned the clipboard on my hip and tried to look authoritative. “Okay, I’ll admit, things were a little tough there for a while and I apologize if I seemed … distracted, but I can assure you this is my first priority. The Oilerettes. Hollow Pines High. Making our squad the best it can be. Making sure that we”—I scanned the faces of the girls, making eye contact with each and every one—“are flawless. You can count on me.” I smiled and there wasn’t anything phony about it. I felt the warmth of leftover Sunshine pulsing through me. I could do this. I could win. “Give me this week. Until after the first play-off game against Lamar.” We were gearing up for a long weekend of tournament games in quick succession that would decide whether Hollow Pines would be playing for states then regionals. It was a lot of responsibility and a big stage. “You’ll see exactly what I mean.”
When I finished talking, Erica actually jumped up and down and clapped, then let her hands drop when she caught Paisley’s glare.
Paisley tucked her cropped hair behind her ears. As her best friend, this was a dead giveaway. She was nervous. “But we already talked about this, y’all,” she said, turning to implore the squad. “We took a vote. This is a democracy. Votes are sacred. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
Ava waved her off. “Come on, Paize. The point was we wanted Cassidy to be better. And … well…” She gave a hesitant shrug of her shoulders. “I, for one, am thrilled to have Cassidy 1.0 back.” Evidence that the real original Cassidy was so invisible that she still remained forgotten. Ava extended her arms and came to wrap me in a tight hug.
The warmth inside me flared. “Thanks,” I said softly into her ear.
“Sorry,” she murmured back.
Everyone shifted their weight and muttered signs of approval. Molly, Emma Kate, Alice, Becky, they were all coming around to my side. Back around to my side. I rapped my knuckles on the clipboard. “Well?” I said to Paisley.
I watched as she rearranged her face before my eyes. I watched as the lines of her frown curved upward into a smile. I watched as she expertly pulled the fangs out from where she’d attempted to lodge them in my neck and reinvented herself as Paisley Wheelwright, certified best friend. “Totally,” she said, in the same pitch she’d use if she were performing a cheer. “Just wanted to make sure you’re cool.”
I cocked my chin ever so slightly and responded drily, “Totally.”
For the remainder of our hour-and-a-half practice, I worked the girls harder than they’d ever been worked before. We lunged up and down the court until all of our legs were consumed in a blaze of lactic acid. We ran laps, repeated jumps—straddle, pike, and herkies—performed push-ups and sit-ups in sets of one hundred. I let them feel a fraction of what it’d taken to build Cassidy Hyde, Homecoming queen.
Sweat streamed from our pores and, through my exhaustion, I felt like I was being baptized into a new person. I luxuriated in the feeling of weakness draining from my body.
And of course, I kept a careful eye on Paisley, making sure to call her out publicly for every lapse in form. As Coach Carlson was shutting off the lights to the gym and the basketball players were trickling into the locker room, I blew my whistle three times.
“Great work, everyone,” I said. They wandered over to their gym bags, pulling out bottles of water and wiping their necks with fresh towels. “Time spent today means we’re flawless on Friday.” I caught Liam disappearing into the locker room.
“I swear I must have burned, like, a thousand calories,” Ava said, unscrewing the top of a Gatorade.
“I’m stopping for a Big Mac,” said Erica.
Paisley plopped down onto a bottom-row bleacher. “That totally defeats the purpose, dimwit.”
Erica ignored her and so did I.
My muscles pulsed with endorphins and, besides, I had somewhere I needed to be. “I expect everyone to be on time and ready to run routines tomorrow. Got it? Picture them in your sleep,” I finished. “I’ll see you guys then.”