CHAPTER 4: NOT THE AESTHETIC

CLARA’S POV 

I stared at the screen until the light burned my eyes. Removed from the group chat, then from the squad. What for? What was my offense? 

My phone rang out; Maya was calling. I picked up without a second thought.

"Clara? Are you seeing this?" Maya’s voice was frantic. "I just saw the notification. I sent a message to the group asking why, and she locked it. That sneaky bitch."

"I just saw it too," I said weakly.

"We’re going to fight this," Maya said. "I’ll call Coach Davies; I’ll call the principal. You’re the best dancer on that squad, Clara; everyone knows it. Soane is just threatened because you’re the one who actually knows the counts."

"Don't, Maya. It's just the school game tomorrow.” I said in a whisper. "Let it go."

"What do you mean, don't? You worked harder than anyone! And if you don't cheer tomorrow, that literally means you won't cheer at the regional games too."

"I don't have the energy for the drama, Maya," I said, a tear finally escaping and hot-tracking down my cheek. "My mom is in the ICU…"

Maya didn't say another word; I did not stop to let her. My voice shook, but I told her everything: the rent, the loan, the job. I had to let it out, or else it would consume me. There was a long silence on the other end of the line while I spoke; she listened keenly; I could hear her heavy breathing.

"Clara, why didn't you tell me it was that bad?"

"Because it’s a lot," I said. "And I’m tired. I just want to survive the week, this month. If Sloane wants the squad so badly, let her have it. I just need to focus on what's more important."

"I'm so sorry," Maya said, her voice soft now. "But it isn't right. It’s not fair."

"Nothing is fair right now," I said. "I have to go; I need to sleep, or at least try."

We hung up, and it was just me again. I lay down starting at the ceiling, forced my eyes closed, and drifted off.

- - - 

The next day at school was a gauntlet. I kept my head down, but I could feel the whispers following me. At Sterling Heights, news traveled faster than the bells, and bad news traveled faster than any news. By lunch, everyone knew I was off the squad.

After the final bell, Maya caught me at my locker. Her eyes were red and furious. "We’re going to the gym," she said, grabbing my arm.

"Maya, I told you—"

"I don't care what you said. We aren't letting her win without a word." She dragged me into the gym hall.

The music for the opening games routine was already thumping through the double doors.  We pushed inside, and the music cut out almost immediately. The squad was in the middle of the mats, Sloane standing at the front with her hands on her hips. Jaxson was there too, sitting on the bleachers with his hockey jersey on, surrounded by the rest of the "elites." They looked like a jury waiting to pass a sentence.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Sloane started. "Surely you know you're off the team, Clara. You shouldn't be here.”

"You can't just kick her off, Sloane." Maya stepped forward, her voice loud and shaking with rage. "She choreographed this entire routine. You wouldn't even know which foot to start on if she hadn't taught you."

Sloane laughed mockingly. "The routine is fine. In fact, it's better now. We’ve adjusted the lines; it’s more... aesthetic." She looked me up and down, her lip curling in disgust. "Let’s be real, Clara. You don't fit the brand. This is our first game of the term, and tomorrow we're hosting the other schools. We need girls who look the part, not charity cases who look like they rolled out of a dumpster. You're a distraction, you're clunky, you're just..."

"She’s the best dancer you have!" Maya shot back.

"Maybe in a different school," Jaxson called out from the bleachers. "But here? We care about the looks. Hulks don't dance; they fight."

The elites roared in agreement. 

I wanted to run, but Maya held my wrist. "If she’s out, I’m out," she said.

"Fine, leave.” Sloane shrugged. “We have plenty of girls on the junior varsity who would kill for your spot."

Maya looked at me, waiting for me to say something, to fight back. But I just looked at the floor. My heart was broken, and I didn't have any words left to mend it.

"Let's go, Maya," I whispered, pulling on her sleeve.

"No, Clara!"

"Please, let's just go."

Before we could turn, the side door opened, and Coach Davies walked in, blowing her whistle. Finally, I thought someone who could fight for me; she could give the order, and I'd be back right now.

"Alright, ladies! Why is the music off? We're on in thirty minutes!" She stopped when she saw us. "Clara? Maya? Why aren't you in uniform?"

"Coach, we had to let Clara go.” Sloane stepped forward before I could speak. “She was too slow on the transitions, and she was dragging the whole pyramid down. It was a safety risk, and it looks like Maya is quitting in solidarity."

Coach Davies looked at me for a second. I waited for her to remember the weeks I spent helping the younger girls. I waited for her to remember that I was the one who fixed the music when it crashed, the choreography, everything.

She just sighed and looked at her clipboard. "It's our first game, girls. We need the best on that floor. If you're not up to speed, Clara, then Sloane made the right call. Maya, if you're quitting, leave your poms in the locker room."

I looked around and felt the walls closing in. I turned to the exit and ran; my head almost hit the door as I rushed out. I didn't stop until I was outside the gym, outside Sterling Heights. I couldn't watch the game; I couldn't stay in that building for one more second. 

I went home, packed a small bag with my school books, a change of clothes, and the few toiletries I had left. I didn't have time to cry; I had to be at the Blackwood Estate by six, and it was already five o'clock. The only thing that mattered now was Lily liking me so I could keep this job. I took the bus and got there at exactly 6 PM. 

When I got to the massive front door, my breath was heavy. I said a little prayer, rang the bell, then waited. ‘Maria should be here in a second,’ I thought, with her usual scowl, but not today. The heavy door creaked open; I looked up and froze instantly. 

It wasn't Maria; it wasn't Helena King. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a white hoodie and grey joggers, was Jaxson. 

Jaxson King, my high school bully.