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chapter four: cheer season
a/n:
i cut this chapter in half because it was getting long and i really wanted to update. whatever. sue me.
this is mostly gwen being a mom to like everyone.
tw(s) -- some mentions of past bullying and bad parenting
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Gwen, as she does most things in her life, takes cheerleading very seriously.
It was one of those things that her father knew in his bones she'd be good at —— the perfect niche for his loud, headstrong daughter who always seemed to thrive on pushing herself just a little too far. She's always liked to teeter on the edge of total combustion, tiredness pulling behind her eyes as she performs for a crowd. It's what makes her the life of the party. It's what makes her such a good (mother.)
In her early childhood, she was a gymnast, but she was forced to stop when a coach in her division turned out to be a pedophile. (Phillip has always gone pale at the thought of his precious, baby girl being in danger, only to turn around and put her in more just the same.) When she reached middle school, the boredom from the lack of an extracurricular activity caught up to her. She dug her heels in the dirt one day and demanded that Phillip pay for violin lessons, a claim that it would look good on her eventual college resume chipped through her braced teeth and across his town car. He paused before he, like he always did when it came to her, caved. She'd actually only wanted to play it because a mean violinist girl on the school's ensemble told her she couldn't, and then ended up dropping the talent just two years in because the kids on the chess club were so much kinder.
Then, in high school, there was cheerleading.
Cheerleading, with its intensive practices, cut-throat environment, and pleated skirts, quickly became her thing.
And nothing —— no amount of balance beam routines, or hours spent pouring over playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik —— could beat the pure, physical exhaustion that came with it.
Years of Gwen's blood, sweat, and tears have gone into Eden Hall Varsity Cheer. She survived unmitigated humiliation, allowed the older girls to abuse her into submission and thanked them for it, just to get and maintain a place on the squad. She's suffered countless injuries, taken flailing limbs to the face from girls who never should've been on top and fallen from the hands of girls who never should've been at the bottom, as the years dragged on. Her body has become more glitter and bruises than it ever was flesh or bone, and the fear that she was going to turn the corner into degradation itched at the back of her throat for longer than she'd care to admit, but she did make it.
The seniors who used to crush raw eggs on her head in front of the whole cafeteria and the healed crack in her left cheekbone are just obstacles on a course.
Irrelevant, truly, in the grand scheme of things.
Why should she give a damn about such petty things when she's finally reached the top of both the food chain and the cheer pyramid?
When she puts on her skirt and smiles at an arena's worth of people with her glittery face, she's more than herself. She's more than the daughter of some drunk lawyer, or the big sister of some kid who's good at hockey. They're all footnotes in her story.
When she's performing, she's divine. Elysian.
So, even if the whole world seems to have disregarded the sport as something girls who will never be successful in life do, it's important to Gwen. It, alongside her love for all things lemon flavored and Little Women, resides in a little cavity in her chest, protected by the cage of her ribs and always close to where she needs it most.
"Oh, shit," James' exclamation greets her as she turns into the kitchen. He slaps Jake on the arm to get his attention and causes the spoonful of cereal Jake was trying to eat to splash all over his arm, "she's got the jacket on!"
His sudden shout makes Gwen pause on the threshold and she does a headcount as the middle Banks sighs shortly.
"'The jacket'?" Charlie echoes, his face pinched in confusion as he glances from face to face.
Neither he nor James was here when she went to bed last night.
"Her varsity jacket." Jake elaborates while wiping cereal milk off his arm with a napkin. "She doesn't wear it except for when it's cheer season."
She lettered in cheerleading with Alexa and the girls at the end of her freshman year. The jacket that the school then gave her spends all of the off-season in a dry cleaner bag in her closet, kept safe and in good condition so she doesn't have to pay for a replacement.
It's similar enough to the hockey letterman that she can just steal Rick or Scott's and get the point across, anyway.
"You look cool, Gwen." Adam says with a soft smile.
He's the first to address her directly.
Gwen finds her voice, then. "Thanks... and good morning, I guess, people who do and don't live here."
The four of them give her scattered (mostly sarcastic) responses and Adam grumbles when she ruffles his hair in passing.
"Hey, Conway, how's your mom?" She asks over her shoulder, grabbing a bottle of her vitamins from the shelf above the sink.
Scott said he'd bring her one of those great bagels that Eden Hall serves their dorming kids for breakfast, so she swallows the pill and thinks about pouring herself a cup of coffee.
"She's good."
"That's nice to hear. What about Hans?"
"He's good, too."
"Awesome. Tell them both I say hi, okay?"
"Okay."
She's always liked Charlie. Out of all of Adam's little friends, he's probably her favorite. (Besides Connie and Julie, of course.) Though puberty has given him quite the unsavory moody quality, she knows he's still a sweetheart deep down, and the sacrifices he's made for her little brother haven't gone unnoticed by Gwen. He was the first of the ragtag team to truly welcome Adam amongst their ranks, and he gave up his spot in the Junior Goodwill Games so that Adam could play and, from what she's picked up along the way, she's pretty sure that's a big deal.
She's also pretty sure that Charlie is Adam's favorite, too.
That would explain why he's here, sitting next to him at their kitchen table at seven in the morning.
James' presence, on the other hand, is a different story. Jake would have to actually tell her about his life for her to understand what's going on there.
"Don't you have any questions for me?" The youngest Riley prods, drawing all attention to him. "Is my life not interesting enough for you, Gwen?"
The mischievous sparkle in his eyes earns a flat look from Gwen.
Speaking to James is like speaking to Rick from years ago, before she forced him to experience character development and become a better person.
"Maybe I'd have questions for you if you stopped talking about yourself for five seconds."
James gasps melodramatically and places his hand over his heart. Her eyes flick down to follow the movement.
He's wearing Jake's shirt.
Her brows crease very slightly.
"When did you get here?" She leans back on the counter and crosses her arms over her chest.
"Last night."
Gwen rolls her eyes, "Yeah, I put that together, you ass. I mean what time?"
"Late." Jake, just as unhelpful, fills in for his friend. "...sorry, I would've said something, but you were already asleep."
She blinks, speechless, and Adam shrinks in his chair and mumbles an apology when she sets her gaze on him.
Nobody told her what she's supposed to do when her little brothers sneak boys into their bedrooms when she isn't looking.
Does she scold them? Give them that stern talking to that all older sisters have the power to give?
Ground them?
Poke her father until he makes the executive decision for her so she doesn't have to be the bad guy?
That all feels hypocritical. She's always harboring people in this house.
(And, she supposes, them sneaking Charlie or Jake in is no different than her sneaking Rick and Scott in.)
"Do your mothers know where you are?"
Charlie nods and turns back to his cereal. James' lack of a clarifying answer earns him another tired sound.
"James."
Jess Riley and Casey Conway are not to be fucked with —— especially when it comes to their children.
It's something that Gwen's always found to be admirable about both of them. She had no female role models in her life after her mother passed, so when both women took her under their wings with grace, she decided that it wouldn't be the worst thing to grow up to be like either of them and decided to learn a thing or two.
That is, incidentally, why she knows to fear their wrath.
"She'll just assume I'm with Rick." He says after another moment, squirming under the weight of her silence. "It's fine."
Gwen purses her lips at that but makes no further comment. Instead, she looks at the coffee maker.
"Which one of you made coffee?"
"I did." Charlie hums.
Knowing that, she pours herself a cup. (It isn't that she doesn't trust her brothers or James —— because she does —— it's just that she knows that, even with the coffee maker instructions in front of them, they wouldn't make anything edible.)
"Hey, Gwen, do you need a ride?" Jake asks as he slips past her to put his bowl in the sink.
"Nope. The guys are coming to get me."
Her brother nods and then turns to the other boys in the room.
Adam shakes his head, and Charlie, while evidently confused, does the same.
"I was actually hoping we could hitch with you, Gwen?"
To that, Gwen raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah. Rick's a better driver than Jake —— no offense, man —— and I figured that, maybe, if we show up in his car..."
"That people will leave you guys alone?"
Both boys nod. She shrugs.
"Alright. I'll see what I can do."
Adam smiles brightly, his nose scrunching, "Thanks, Gwen."
Jake rolls his eyes but takes the comment about his driving skills quietly and returns to his seat.
"Say, Gwen, if Rick and Scott are dorming, why do they leave the school to come pick you up?"
James jumps on the opportunity to answer Charlie for her. "Rick needs to be needed at all times, and they'll do whatever she tells them."
Gwen flounders for a moment, unable to come up with a way to dispute the claim about Rick and defend him, before a retort comes to mind.
"Trust me, they do not do everything I tell them."
"Oh! He also likes the fact that she leaves her hair ties and stuff like that in his car by accident, but he'd never admit that."
Yeah, she doesn't have a response to that either.
(Is that where her favorite lipgloss went? Sucked into the abyss within her best friend's stupid, vintage car?)
"Okay." Charlie says slowly, hesitantly, and stares at Gwen strangely.
"Do you think Rick would mind if I just throttled him a little?" Gwen directs her question to Adam.
"I would mind." James scoffs indignantly. "I would mind greatly."
Her littlest brother, however, shrugs and ignores the brunet entirely. "I mean, you'd kick Rick's ass for doing the same to me or Jake."
Adam's right. She couldn't put her hands on James if she wanted to (and sometimes she really does) because, in theory, Rick cares for his brother as much as she does her own (not that Rick would ever really hit her.)
Charlie doesn't seem to agree with Adam's statement.
"You could kick Rick's ass?"
"I suggest you tread carefully, Charlie, if you really want that ride to school."
"I—— well, it's just that—— he's—— never mind."
"Don't let this facade fool you, man," Jake gestures in her direction, "Gwen's always been the scrappiest fighter of the schoolyard."
Gwen scoffs. "I have not."
"You were too. Remember when you beat the crap out of that chick?"
Even if he's being vague, she knows what he's talking about.
"I didn't beat the crap out of her—— "
"You made her bleed, Gwen."
"And? I do that, like, twelve times a year."
Relief blooms across Jake's face when Gwen's beeper goes off and puts an end to that conversation.
"That would be our ride." She says after she checks it, "Go get your stuff, children."
With a wave of her hand, both Charlie and Adam get up from the table and head upstairs. She finishes her coffee and puts the mug in the sink, wiping her hands on the towel that hangs from the oven door.
"Get to school on time and drive safely, and don't wake dad, okay?"
James' sarcastic yes ma'am makes her eye twitch. One Riley is enough (maybe even too much) for her.
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The T-Bird is, as it normally is, sitting in its spot at the end of the driveway and waiting for her when she finally makes it outside with the fourteen-year-olds in tow. Scott waves at them from the backseat as soon as the front door is closed behind them and, even as Charlie tenses up beside her, she waves back with a smile.
"You two should wait here and let me do the talking."
"Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice."
Gwen pats Charlie on the shoulder before taking the steps by two and making her way down the asphalt.
She walks with a pep in her step, her body buzzing with the determination that she'll need to convince the two of them to give the boys a ride, and, if either of them notices, they don't say anything.
"Look at you and your little jacket." Rick says with a grin. "Do a little spin for me?"
Gwen rolls her eyes and drops her bag into the passenger side footwell. "Fuck you."
"Hey, a man can dream."
Scott makes this snort-like sound. "I forgot how much I love cheer season. A few months of not smelling like Chanel or picking blonde hairs off my letterman."
"Fine," She shrugs, "if it bothers you so much, then I'll just wear Rick's all the time—— "
Rick grins triumphantly as Scott gasps.
"Hey, I never said that."
"You should've just been a gentleman about it, Scooter," Rick looks at the two of them over the rim of his sunglasses, "I personally don't care that you shed hair like a golden retriever."
"Or, I can just steal from one of your other boys. Do you think Bard would mind my perfume?"
"You wouldn't dare."
Gwen simply stares down at Rick, leaning on the side of his car with her eyebrows at her hairline, telling him with her expression alone that she would, in fact, dare.
"But you don't even like Bard." Scott complains. "You think his cologne smells cheap, and you slapped him once because he tried to hit on you after standing Rachel up."
"Yeah, well, we all know how far I can go just to be spiteful."
The goalie narrows his eyes. "You're mean."
"He just compared me to a golden retriever—— " Sighing heavily, Gwen stops herself and takes a deep breath. "Anyway, I have a favor to ask before we go."
(Maybe, in retrospect, it would've been a better idea to ask the question before she indulged in the squabbling.)
"Does it have anything to do with your brother looking at me like a kicked puppy from across the lawn?"
"Yes." She says, glancing over her shoulder for confirmation. "They need a ride."
"Seriously?"
"I know, I know, they stole your brother's JV spot and they're a bunch of... yo-yo's with no money and no talent, but this is a favor for me, not them."
Rick chews on the inside of his cheek as he considers it. When he and Scott exchange a glance, she swallows thickly.
"Please?"
And, after another moment's deliberation, he caves with a sigh.
"Thank you!" She surges forward to grab his chin and kiss him on the cheek.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell him if he gets any dirt on my floors then he has to lick them clean."
She just rolls her eyes again and turns to give the other boys the okay.
"I'm serious, Gwen."
Scott pretends to cough the word softie as Rick's thinly veiled threats go completely disregarded.
It takes some time (and some help from the goalie) to get the boys' gear into the trunk of the car but, eventually, everyone is buckled in. Gwen eats the breakfast Scott smuggled for her as Rick drives and, to try and keep him from complaining, she looks through the glove department in search of a cautionary napkin.
What she finds, instead, is a vial of her lip gloss...
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a/n:
something about how all of the men in gwen's life can't help but bend to her wants and needs gets to me.
comments and votes are super appreciated! they let me know that you guys like my writing and I cannot stress how much they motivate me to continue! thank you