This Was a Home Once & Other Stories

glitter on the floor

"It wasn't a competition. I always won."

Ash laughs and slips her hands into her pockets. "Really? I'm pretty sure I was the one doing all the winning. You still got it, Gen?"

I huff. "I coach cheer now. Have to keep up with my girls."

"I want a demonstration." Estelle flutters her eyelashes.

"I'm not tumbling at our high school reunion, thank you very much. I'm wearing a dress."

"I noticed," Ash says impishly. I don't like the way she inspects my blue satin cocktail dress and black stilettos. I can almost sense her judging me for choosing aesthetics over comfort.

With a small, fake laugh, I hook my thumb over my shoulder at the double doors behind us. "You're signed in, so you can head on through. Don't forget to sign the guestbook by the door. Slideshow starts at eight."

"Let's catch up later, Gen." Ash's smile feels like it's just for me, and I smile back before I can help it. Then she adds, "Sorry to hear your high school sweetheart dumped you. Sucks to be second best, doesn't it?"

My smile crumples like an ankle on a bad landing. Ash holds out her arm for Estelle. I glare at their backs as they saunter into the gym.

"And there's the Ash you love to hate," Izzy says.

"How'd she know what happened with Carter?"

"Uh, 'cause you cried about it for an hour in your livestream?"

I groan and cover my face with both hands. "That was a year ago! Will I ever live that down?"

"No. Is he coming tonight?"

"He's out of town for a game. That's why I planned the reunion for this weekend," I admit.

"Bitchy. I love it."

The last stragglers arrive, and we sign them in, direct them to the name tags. At last, I put my tablet down.

"Let's head in. If Kelly hasn't spiked the punch by now, I'll be shocked."

Izzy holds the door for me. As we cross to the refreshment table, I survey the room. Nothing could hide that it's a gymnasium, but the decorators did their best to meet my exacting specifications. Swags of gold and navy blue bunting obscure basketball nets and roll-out bleachers. LED candles shimmer on matching sequins scattered across tall, spindly tables. Better than the hideous Under the Sea theme we had at prom, at least.

The punch has, in fact, been spiked—maybe more than once. I grimace after the first sip. "Is that vodka and rum?"

"Don't question it," Izzy giggles, before dancing away to find her fiance.

Drink in hand, I wander along the outside of the crowd, trying to ignore the pinch of my heels. Guests in formalwear mingle, sip wine, and try to one-up old rivals. Laughter floats over quiet music. Familiar faces are made strangers by different haircuts, better makeup, a subtle weariness in the eyes that wasn't there ten years ago.

Above the huge wildcat mural on the wall hang championship banners: basketball, baseball. Six are from cheer, the most of any one sport.

"Can you believe we won two of those?"

I start. Punch sloshes over my hand. "Sugar!" I pass my glass to the other hand and shake out my fingers.

Ash smirks at me. Her girlfriend is nowhere to be seen. "How much have you had, Gen?"

"You scared me," I snap. Snagging a cocktail napkin off the nearest table, I wipe my hand vigorously.

"Wow, you've changed. Nothing used to scare the perfect Genevieve Boucher."