Brooke's POV
I was almost sure that the knock I heard on my door during my free period was Chelsea trying to escape math again - who else could it be?
"It's open," I called invitingly, expecting a gorgeous brunette to walk in. In lieu of her dark tresses, however, much to my surprise, I saw only blonde curls and a devious expression. She looked almost angry, but still somewhat cool. In a word, she looked suspicious.
"Hey, Tiffany," I greeted lightly, not letting on that I'd been expecting someone else.
"Hi, Miss Chandler," she replied, not maliciously, but without a smile.
"What can I do for you?"
She walked in further, until she was in the seat closest to my desk. "You can explain something," she said, cutting to her point. I felt my whole body tense. There was only one thing this could be about - the guilt was already eating me apart.
"Explain what?" I said, forcing a slight laugh, determined to appear nonchalant.
She lowered her eyes, sizing me down. "I think you know what."
I shook my head, fabricating some confused expression. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," I said.
"I know you're hooking up with Chelsea Davidson," she finally said. I swear I felt my insides liquify. "Don't bother arguing," she said. "I know."
"Excuse me?" I asked, sounding slightly offended, and more shocked, though neither were true. "Where did you get that idea?"
"You don't need to worry about it," she said suspiciously. "The point is that I know."
"I don't think you know anything," I said with a little bit of edge.
"Stop pretending," she said. "You're not fooling anyone. Now all I want is an answer. Do you treat her special because she's screwing you?"
"Tiffany!" I nearly gasped, sounding like a real live teacher for once, taken aback by her blunt language.
"Oh, please. If you can do it, I can at least say it."
"I didn't do anything," I argued, lying through my teeth. If she wasn't so convinced already, I could have won an Academy Award for this performance. It's funny how when it was so dire, I could lie. "And I treat all of you the same," I said, though outside of practice this was far from the truth.
"Bullshit," she said. "She's captain, she's a top girl, you're flirting with her all the time at practice."
"I made Chelsea captain before I knew any of you," I began to calmly explain, "based on her skill. I know you were a captain in the past, and I'm sorry, but you're on a different team now. Chelsea's been on Varsity since her freshman year, and she's been a top girl all her life, so she does have a leg up in those kinds of things. There's a lot of consideration that goes into these decisions, Tiffany, and it's not based on anything outside of cheering."
"Look," she said. "I just want to know which came first."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, not understanding.
"I mean, are you hooking up because you like her? Or do you like her because you're hooking up?"
"Tiffany, those are serious allegations you're making," I admonished, even though they were accurate allegations.
"And I'm making them seriously," she said. "Look, I'm not going to tell on you or anything. I'm just wondering how I can get ahead."
That stopped me completely dead. "Excuse me?"
"Well how does this work? Can I sign up to get myself ahead at cheering, or is that a right reserved only for Chelsea Davidson?"
Was she offering to hook up with me to get placed as captain? I couldn't tell if it was a mechanism of argument, or a serious offer. Either way, for her to insinuate that I would do that; to treat me like nothing more than a prostitute; was absolutely too much.
"Tiffany," I warned firmly, placing my hands on the desk in front of me as I stood up. She got up with me and stood in my face, looking tough. I realized I didn't scare her - I didn't scare anyone. But I figured I was holding my own. I managed to hold on enough to say, "To get ahead, you earn it. Not through hook-ups, through skill. If you want to get ahead, you'll work for it. That's all I have to tell you."
She put her bag over her shoulder, chin up, as she turned to go. "Oh, I'll work at it," she said. "Trust that."
"I'm looking forward to it," I told her as she gave me a final look before shutting the door.
That was before I completely broke down, knowing that I was absolutely and irrevocably fucked.
_______
I spent the remainder of the day searching for solutions, for the most part coming up dry. What could I do? She knew. I didn't know how she knew, but she knew. And worse, I was not on her good side. The situation was extremely volatile. One wrong move on my part, and I could be in serious, serious trouble. I knew what Tiffany wanted, and more than once I considered giving it to her. But that wasn't fair. Not to Chelsea, and not to the team. I wasn't going to let this sixteen year old girl run my life. And I was going to stay true to my word. If she wanted to get ahead, then she would definitely work for it.
"Today," I announced at practice, "We're working out. You all need to work on conditioning, so you can strengthen your jumps and your stunts. And I know some of you," I said, looking directly at Tiffany, "Are looking to get further ahead in your cheering. So here's how." I made sure I used her exact language, so she would get the hint that I'd meant what I said. I didn't smile, I didn't even say please. I was making a point, and sticking by it. "Get changed and meet me in the weight room."
As I could have anticipated, Chelsea was the first one there.
"Reporting for duty, Sergeant Chandler," she joked as she put a leg up to stretch. "I have to admit, the whole power thing is kind of hot on you."
"Shh!" I hissed at her. "Look, you know this isn't me. I'll explain later, but please just shut up for now."
She raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Okay," she said. "Whatever you say."
"And whatever you do, when practice ends today, leave. Quickly. Don't say goodbye. I'll call you."
"You're scaring me," she said.
"Well, you're not alone."
Lucky for me, the next one to walk in, was Tiffany. Just like that, I was alone with the two of them. Already, it didn't look good that Chelsea and I were alone.
Catching my eye, she commented, "Shocker."
Chelsea gave me a look, and I shook my head. "Ready to work out?" I asked her, cordially, as if nothing had happened.
"This is really cute," she said, clearly unamused.
"I'm just helping you out," I said. "I know you have goals, so I'm helping you reach them."
"That's not the way you help others," she said, looking at Chelsea.
"This is the way I'm helping the entire team."
Speaking of the entire team, the rest of them flooded in. I took off the drill sergeant semblance, having made my point to Tiffany, and tried to be nicer to the girls. "Okay," I said, pseudo-enthusiastically. "Get on a machine and rotate in a minute. I'll come around to help."
They all walked off, obliging, and Tiffany turned around to glare at me one final time before hitting the pull-up bar.
I was actually impressed by her strength. She jumped up and nearly effortlessly did ten pull-ups before jumping down. She made sure to shoot me a look as she did so, as if to say "I told you so." She rubbed her hands together before jumping back up to do ten more. I made sure to come around to her first.
"Well?" she asked.
"I'm impressed," I admitted.
"I told you," she said, out loud this time as she hung above the bar.
"Keep it up," I said, encouragingly, still playing the role of a coach despite the not-so-lovely things she'd said to me earlier in the day. "You're going places."
She jumped down again. I swear that right before I turned to someone else, I saw a small smile hit her face.
________
When practice ended, Chelsea listened to my instructions and left with the rest of the team, unceremoniously. I don't think that took much effort, as like all the other girls, she was visibly exhausted by the events of the afternoon.
Once I was alone in the silence of my own car, I knew I had phonecalls to make. The first was to Chelsea, as promised. She picked up almost immediately.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hey," I replied, smiling at the sound of her voice. "It's me."
"What's up?"
"Are you alone?"
"Yeah," she said. "I'm in the car."
"Is that legal?"
"No," she said. "So make it quick."
"Tiffany Medlock knows about us," I spit.
I was met by utter silence.
"Chelsea?" I said after a while.
"Are you serious?" she asked, signifying that she'd been there the whole time, just speechless.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"How?"
"I have no idea," I said. "She wouldn't tell me. But she came to me during my free period, and she started saying some really awful things."
"What did she say to you?" she said, her shock turning into sheer anger.
"Nothing," I said, not wanting the attention on myself. "It's no big deal."
"Let me find out that that bitch said anything to hurt you, and I swear to God, Brooke, I will kill her."
"Chelsea," I said, trying to calm her down. "Don't worry about me. The problem right now is us."
"I know," she said. "You're right. But this isn't good, Brooke. You know she wants to be captain. I'd be very surprised if she didn't try to use this to get there."
"Oh, trust me, I know," I said. "She made that very clear."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her that if she wanted to get ahead, she had to work at it. That's why we went to the weight room today. I was proving a point to her."
She sighed. "Do you know what she's going to do? To us?"
"I have no idea. But until then, as far as she can know, us doesn't exist."
"You denied the whole thing?"
"Yes," I said. "And I plan on denying it. I can't go to prison, Chelsea."
"Okay, you're not going to prison. If worse comes to worse, I'll quit the team. Then you can give her what she wants, and she'll leave us alone."
"You're not quitting the team," I said strongly. "Without you, I barely have a team."
"Come on, there are some strong cheerleaders besides me," she said. "And you're a great coach. You'll be fine."
"Let's just not think like that," I said. "I really don't want to start planning a team that you're not on."
"Okay," she said, comfortingly. "Then we won't. Don't worry about anything, okay? We'll deal with Tiffany. Everything's going to be fine."
I smiled, though I was all alone. "If you say so," I said.
"Love conquers all," she sang platitudinously. "Have a little faith."
"I'll try," I told her. "I love you."
"I love you, too," she said. "But I'm going to hang up now, so I don't get arrested."
I had to laugh. "Go," I told her. "We don't want that."
"Bye," she said.
I hung up, then redialed to make my second phonecall. This one was less pressing, but still important.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Hi, Kate," I said. "It's me."
"Hey," she said. "How are you?"
"I'm okay," I lied. I wondered if she noticed how my voice was quavering from the events of the day.
"You don't sound it," she noted. Apparently, she did notice. That was the problem with being just friends with someone who was trained to be so in touch with your feelings. Kate knew me inside and out. All it took was one look, one word, one simple move, and she could get from me an entire story, or an entire truth that I couldn't even admit to myself.
"I'm fine," I lied again. "I just wanted to talk to you about last night. I know that was kind of weird for you."
She laughed a little bit. "It's fine," she said. "It was all my fault anyhow. I should give you your key back."
"No," I said, although I didn't know why. "Keep it. I trust you with it."
"You probably shouldn't," she said. "I ruined your moment."
I had to laugh. "The moment was fine."
"She's beautiful," Kate said. "Your girlfriend."
I hadn't even used the word before, but I didn't object when she did. "You think so?" was all I said.
"Oh God, yes," she said. "She's really, really pretty."
I smiled. "She said the same thing about you."
"Really?" she asked, and I could tell she was flattered.
"Mhm," I said. "She really can't get over it."
"That's sweet," she said.
It was silent for a moment. Then, for some reason, I felt the need to come clean, because strangely, I knew she wouldn't tell.
"She's seventeen," I finally said.
"What?" she asked.
"I'm nine years older than Chelsea," I said. "And I'm sleeping with her. I know, you probably don't want to hear about that," I went on.
"No," she said. "It's okay. We're doing the whole friends thing. I'm listening."
"Do you think that's like, really bad?" I asked.
"No," she said again. "Of course not. You can't help who you fall for."
"I guess," I said. "But the law."
"It's a few months," she said. "It's not that bad."
I realized then that I was talking to a devoted paralegal about my issues with the law, and more importantly, that she was acting unproportionally cavalier about it.
"I guess," I said.
"I know it looks like a big deal now, but when she's thirty and you're thirty-nine..." she trailed off.
The silence spoke for itself. "That's still bad," I said, and we both laughed.
"You'll be okay," she said after a while. "I mean it."
At that point, I'd been home about ten minutes, and strangely I didn't feel the need nor the desire to hang up. We ended up talking for almost two hours. Out of a relationship with Kate, the pressure was officially off. There was no more nagging, no more arguing, no more demanding, no more stress. What was left was just a strong friendship, between two people that honestly cared about each other. I couldn't believe how incredible that felt.
"Kate," I said, right before the phone call was going to end.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Thank you," I said. "So much. For this. For everything."
"Anytime," she said. "Call me when you need me."
I smiled, once again, to myself. "Thanks," I said again. "I'll talk to you soon."
"Bye," she said.
"Bye, Kate."