Fake it with me
Crestwood lost by six points.
Not a collapse, not a disaster, just six points, the particular kind of loss that was almost worse than a blowout because it arrived with the specific cruelty of something that could have gone differently, that had been going differently until the fourth quarter when a fumble on the thirty yard line handed Eastbridge the momentum and the momentum did not come back.
Ava knew the score before the final whistle because she was on the sideline, which was where the cheer squad stood during home games, and she had been aware of the scoreboard in the peripheral, background way she was aware of most things during performances, present but not primary.