Chapter 3
When Adelaide walked into the training facility, the rookies were already warming up.
Greta handed her the sign-up sheet, muttering under her breath. "Why is she here?"
"Who?" Adelaide flipped to the first page and saw Melissa's photo.
The recommendation line read: Frederick.
Cheer squad tryouts were strict. Even rookies needed six months of training and a preliminary screening before they could try out.
Melissa had never set foot in the training facility. But a recommendation from the football team captain qualified her for selection.
It was within school rules. It still made Adelaide's stomach turn.
Adelaide stared at the photo for two seconds, then flipped the page. "Let's begin."
Tryouts had four rounds—flexibility, strength, rhythm, and choreography replication.
Melissa had no formal training. It showed. Her strength was lacking. Her flexibility barely scraped a pass.
After two rounds, she had the lowest score.
Adelaide kept her head down while marking the scoreboard. She knew Melissa was watching her—glancing over after every exercise.
That look wasn't nerves. It was 'I know you can't touch me.' Pure arrogance behind those eyes.
Halfway through tryouts, the facility door opened. Frederick walked in.
He wore his team sweats, hair still damp—fresh from the showers.
He sat down at the sideline and waved at Adelaide.
"Wanted to see how Melissa's doing," he told her. "First tryout. She's a little nervous."
Adelaide didn't look at him. She stepped back instinctively, as if maintaining distance.
He didn't notice. He turned to Melissa, waving enthusiastically, pulling out his phone like he was about to document this milestone moment.
Round three: rhythm test.
Music filled the facility. Rookies followed the beat through a basic routine.
Simple stuff. Melissa couldn't keep up from the start.
She stopped, bit her lip, and looked at Frederick with wounded eyes.
Frederick gave her a thumbs-up. "You got this!"
Melissa nodded and stumbled back into the routine. Her form was painful to watch.
Round four: choreography replication.
Daphne demonstrated an eight-count sequence. The rookies followed along.
Melissa fell apart by the fourth count, colliding with the girl next to her, who shot her an irritated look.
She froze in place. She looked like she was about to cry.
She looked at Frederick again.
This time he frowned and half-rose from his seat, but something stopped him. He sat back down.
Tryouts ended. The rookies filed out to wait for results. The judges tallied scores.
Melissa ranked dead last. She wasn't making the squad.
But Frederick had recommended her. Everyone turned to Adelaide, waiting for her call.
Greta spoke first. "Melissa doesn't cut it."
Daphne glanced at Adelaide, then toward the door, lowering her voice. "Frederick's still waiting out there. He is the football captain."
The football team carried serious weight on campus. The dean and board gave them special attention. They couldn't just ignore Frederick's recommendation.
Especially when he was Adelaide's boyfriend.
Adelaide said nothing. She recalculated every score from scratch. Melissa was still last.
"We go by the numbers." She set down her pen. "We owe that to everyone else."
The room exhaled with relief.
Letting someone at Melissa's level onto the squad would have been a disaster.
Adelaide carried the roster out of the facility. Frederick walked toward her immediately.
His expression was off. His tone had an edge. "Adelaide, Melissa was having an off day."
"Mm." Adelaide nodded.
"She didn't have her strawberry latte this morning. You know she has one every day. Without it, she got dizzy."
Adelaide looked at him. "And?"
"Can you let her try again? Just once. She trained three straight days for this."
"Everyone else trained at least six months." Adelaide cut him off. "You know cheer has serious physical demands. It took me a full year before I made the cut."
Frederick's words died in his throat. He had nothing.
Melissa appeared behind him—no one noticed when she'd walked up. Head bowed, eyes rimmed red.
"Frederick, stop." Her voice dripped with practiced hurt. "It's my fault. Nobody's being unfair. Don't fight because of me."
She lifted her head and looked at Adelaide, tears glistening. "Thank you for giving me the chance, Adelaide. I'll work harder next time."
Several rookies nearby were watching. Each held a coffee cup—bought by Frederick, clearly meant to smooth things over so nobody would object to giving Melissa another shot.
"Adelaide's being kind of harsh, don't you think?"
"Just let Melissa try again. We don't mind."
"Yeah, her brother already explained. She was just off today."
Adelaide heard every word. She said nothing. She signed the roster and handed it to Greta. "Post it."
Frederick stood there, watching her. His expression shifted.
Not anger. Exhaustion. The kind she'd seen too many times—that 'why can't you just understand' look.
"You really have to do this?" He sighed.
"Do what, exactly?" Adelaide asked.
"She's a rookie. She's young. Can't you just cut her some slack?"
Cut her some slack.
Always that phrase.
Adelaide looked at him. Looked for a long time.
She thought about the empty seat at her competition. The lingerie on the couch. The clothes in the closet that weren't hers.
She thought about telling herself just hours ago to give Frederick one more chance.
She also thought about the fact that she was actually a year younger than Melissa.
"Don't you have an exam this afternoon?" Adelaide checked her watch. "You should go."
Frederick opened his mouth, then closed it. He turned and walked away.
Melissa trailed behind him, took two steps, then glanced back at Adelaide. Her tears had vanished.
"Stop staring after them. Your knee's swollen—sit down." Greta pulled Adelaide onto a nearby bench. "Daphne and I will handle the rest. Take a break. This coffee... never mind. You don't even like strawberry. Frederick, honestly."
All those cups of coffee, and every single one was the strawberry flavor his girlfriend didn't drink.
Adelaide stayed quiet. The old injury in her leg had started throbbing. She'd been on her feet too long. Her knee was visibly swollen.
She was wearing shorts. Everyone else had noticed the swelling.
Frederick hadn't.
All he'd seen was Melissa failing tryouts. Nothing else registered.
Her phone buzzed. Adelaide picked it up. A message from Reginald.
[What do you want for dinner?]
Adelaide stared at the screen. The tightness in her chest loosened, just a fraction.
Her friends and family did care about her. Didn't they?
Feeling guilty about the trouble she'd caused him, she hesitated before typing back.
[Let me take you to dinner tonight. My treat?]
His reply came immediately.
[I'll pick you up from campus.]
