CHAPTER FIVE: Eyes on me

The school auditorium buzzed with low murmurs, chairs screeching against the tiled floor as students settled in. Maya sat in the back, hoodie half-zipped, eyes fixed on nothing. She was still getting used to the weight of attention again—not the cruel kind from the slush incident, but the quiet stares from students who weren’t sure if they could still laugh at her without consequences.

She felt eyes on her now too. Zane sat across the aisle, not close enough to speak, but close enough to make her skin tingle. He hadn’t said much since showing up at her apartment, but something had shifted in his gaze since then—softer, sharper, like he was seeing her for the first time.

Kennedy nudged her. “Head up, queen. This assembly is about to get juicy.”

The principal, Mrs.Maureen, stepped onto the stage, flanked by a few members of the school board and a stern-looking PE teacher Maya barely recognized. She tapped the mic twice, sending a screech across the speakers.

“Students,” she said, pausing as the noise died down, “we’re excited to announce that auditions for this year’s cheerleading squad will begin this Friday.”

A ripple of whispers rushed through the crowd. Amaya, sitting dead center, flipped her hair and gave an exaggerated yawn. Kennedy rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.

“Anyone interested,” the principal continued, “should collect a sign-up form from the office today. New leadership positions are open. This year’s captain will be selected based on performance, teamwork, and school spirit.”

“Translation,” Kennedy whispered, leaning into Maya, “Amaya’s crown is up for grabs.”

Maya scoffed. “Why would I care about cheerleading?”

“Because you need to remind them you’re not just the quiet girl who got soaked in orange soda. And because I’m signing us both up.”

Maya turned to her, eyes wide. “What?! No.”

Kennedy grinned, already pulling two forms from her backpack like she had anticipated the resistance. “This is your moment, Maya. And don’t say you can’t dance—I’ve seen you at the back of class moving like Beyoncé’s twin.”

“I was barely moving,” Maya muttered.

“You were feeling. There’s a difference.”

⸻

Later that day, in the gym, girls gathered in groups, stretching and adjusting their leggings. Maya stood by the bleachers, arms folded tightly across her chest. Kennedy had already roped her into warmups, dragging her through routines Maya didn’t realize her body remembered. She used to dance. Before the grief. Before the move. Before the world shrank to survival mode.

Zane walked in with two other basketball players. His eyes found Maya immediately. He didn’t smile. Just watched.

Kennedy came up behind her. “You ready?”

“Nope.”

“Too bad. Fear is part of the fun.”

Coach Kate blew the whistle. “Alright ladies—and gentlemen, if you’re brave—let’s see what you’ve got. Pair up. You have fifteen minutes to choreograph a short routine. Energy. Spirit. Personality. Go.”

Kennedy grabbed Maya’s hand before she could run.

Their routine wasn’t perfect. Maya’s moves were stiff at first, but the more she let go, the more her body remembered how to feel. Kennedy hyped her up the entire time—counting beats, clapping in rhythm, laughing when Maya nailed a spin that caught even Coach’s attention.

When they hit the final pose, Maya’s heart thundered—not just from the movement, but from the silence that followed. People were watching. Really watching.

Coach kate nodded once. “Interesting. Next.”

After an hour of routines, the coach dismissed the rest and asked five girls to stay back. Maya felt her stomach sink when she heard her name.

Alongside hers: Kennedy. Amaya. Two other senior girls with long legs and practiced flips.

Amaya was already glaring.

“This isn’t funny,” she hissed under her breath as the coach stepped aside to speak privately with another teacher.

Maya blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You think you can just prance in here, do a little pity dance, and replace me?”

“I didn’t come here to replace you.”

“Then stay out of my lane.”

Maya took a slow breath, remembering Kennedy’s words. This was her moment.

“Maybe you’re scared because someone finally stepped into it.”

Before Amaya could reply, Coach Kate returned, holding a clipboard.

“We’ve reviewed your performances,” she said. “This year’s cheer team will be led by someone who embodies more than just technique. We need leadership. Presence. And spirit.”

She looked up, eyes scanning the line.

“Maya Blakes,” she said

Silence.

Maya’s ears rang. She thought maybe she’d heard wrong.

“What?” Amaya snapped.

Kennedy clapped—once, loud and proud.

Coach Kate continued, “You’re our new lead. Kennedy will serve as co-captain. Training begins next week. Dismissed.”

Amaya stood frozen, her mouth parted but no words coming out. Maya felt the heat of a dozen stares on her as she turned to Kennedy.

Kennedy grabbed her in a hug. “I told you, queen. It’s your era.”

⸻

By the time Maya left the gym, the hallway felt different. People moved around her, not past her. A few smiled. A few nodded. Someone actually called out, “Nice moves today!”

It was… strange. But not bad.

She headed to her locker, mind spinning. She wasn’t supposed to get picked. She wasn’t supposed to win. That wasn’t the story she was used to.

As she reached for her bag, a voice spoke behind her.

“Did you know you were going to get it?”

She turned. Zane.

He leaned against the locker beside hers, arms crossed, gaze sharp. But there was something unreadable in his expression.

“No,” Maya said. “I didn’t even want to audition.”

“But you did. And you crushed it.”

“I didn’t do it for attention.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

A pause. Then softer, “You looked… alive out there.”

Maya looked down, embarrassed. “Don’t start getting weird on me.”

Zane smiled slightly. “Too late for that.”

For a second, she almost smiled back. But then Amaya walked past them, eyes blazing. She bumped Maya hard with her shoulder, then shot Zane a cold look.

“This isn’t over,” she muttered.

Maya watched her go.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “It’s just getting started.”