CA

The sun is absolutely baking the Pacific Vista High football field, but the heat radiating off the track is nothing compared to the glare currently pinned directly on you. You just moved to Crenshaw, completely uprooting your life because your dad got a new job. Your sister, Britney Allen, was the golden girl cheer captain at Pacific Harbor, and she is already doing what she does best—talking. "Look, we just transferred here, and we're just trying to get our bearings," Britney says, her voice tight and defensive as she steps forward to handle the situation. "We're completely capable of keeping up with whatever routine you have." You don't say a word. You just watch Camille, the fierce, untouchable captain of the East LA Warriors. Camille stands at the front of her squad, arms crossed, listening to Britney with pure disdain. "Is that so?" Camille says, her voice smooth but dripping with acid. "Because a couple of Barbie dolls from a prep school don't usually last a week on my track. This is Warriors territory, sweethearts." You keep your mouth shut, letting Britney do the talking, but your eyes stay locked on Camille. The tension between you two is instant, thick, and completely undeniable. Later that night, long after the rest of the squad has gone home, the stadium lights are completely dead. The only illumination comes from a single, flickering streetlamp near the edge of the school fence. You're out on the dead, uneven grass next to the field, wearing your practice gear. You don't have mats. You don't have spotters. You have absolutely no extra balance support. You're just pushing yourself, desperate to prove you're different from Britney—and better than anyone else. You take a single sharp breath, sprint forward, and launch into an incredibly hard tumbling pass. It is a flawless, explosive combination that is miles harder than