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There are two things I've learned since starting at UConn:
1.College is a chaotic mix of freedom and sleep deprivation. 2.If you pretend to have your life together, most people believe you.
Most days, I'm up by 6:30 a.m. for practice, still half-asleep as I throw on my cheer uniform and tie my hair up into a high ponytail. Some people drag themselves through early mornings—I flip through mine.
Today's no different. Cold water on my face, iced coffee in my cup, air pods in with my "get it together" playlist blasting as I meet the squad out on the field.
We warm up with stretches and sync drills. I'm in my zone: toes pointed, arms sharp, smile on. Being a cheerleader isn't just about flips and kicks—it's about owning the space you're in. Owning the way people look at you. I like that part.
By 9:30, practice wraps. I peel off my hoodie and grab my phone to check my texts. Two messages.
matty boi : Breakfast later? My place. Got something to run by you.🧸
savi gf : Caf at 10? You look way too pretty to be eating alone.
I roll my eyes at Matt's emoji—why is he still using the bear?—and text Savi back: Yes pls. Need waffles and best friend energy asap.
Savi, short for Savannah, has been my best friend since we were four. We met during snack time in pre-K when she gave me her last gummy worm. If that's not soulmate behavior, I don't know what is.
We sit across from each other in the student center, our trays full of comfort carbs and gossip.
"You see Paige's assist last night?" she asks between bites. "Girl's playing like she wants a WNBA draft offer tomorrow."
I sigh, stabbing my waffle with a little more aggression than necessary. "Don't remind me. Mom already texted me a play-by-play breakdown like I didn't see it all over Instagram."
"She's proud."
"She's obsessed.And dont get me wrong — im proud of Paige but god."
Savi gives me that look—the one that means you're being dramatic, but I love you anyway.
"And," she adds, lowering her voice, "your favorite person was trending on UConn Twitter again."
I blink. "KK?"
She grins. "The one and only."
I groan so loud people turn around. "Can we not?"
"Sorry, I just—she made this insane cross-court shot last night and the clip went viral. People are obsessed with her."
"They can have her."
KK, aka Kamorea fucking Arnold , is the reason I have gray hairs at twenty. She's my sister's best friend, my unavoidable shadow, and probably the most irritating human being on campus.
