Being hyper-focused on one thing means others get left behind, take a step back and see what you're missing.

The inverse of this advice was don't step back and you'll stay hyper-focused on one thing and lose sight of all the others. Which Courtney had decided to do. She sat, wearing her cheer uniform, in front of her vanity with her ankle on top of it.

Her hyper-focus was on her ankle, which she had covered in sparkling fabric and tied with a bow. What she debated was whether wearing her pompom scrunchy on her ankle was overkill.

Her father was right, being hyper-focused made everything else go away. She wasn't thinking about Lynn. Or how it had been a whole week away from the squad. Or how she'd agreed to let her friends throw a party in her house. Or how she had no idea what was going on with Aiden.

Okay, well she was thinking about those things now but she hadn't been! Courtney narrowed her eyes at the scrunchy, hyper-focusing. I am hyper-focusing and everything will go away.

"Hey, Cory."

So much for that plan!

"Hey, Miley."

Her brother inched into her room and she saw him in her mirror's reflection, his focus on her ankle. Yes, that's also where my focus was until you rudely interrupted my hyper-focus and made everything in my life come back.

"Why are you wearing that thing on your ankle?" Miles said around a mouth full of cereal.

"It's called school spirit." And denial that my ankle isn't as bothersome as it really is. But honestly, it isn't that bothersome at all. The scrunchy merely looks cute.

"I thought you couldn't cheer with your ankle?" Miles asked.

"Doesn't mean I can't go sit and watch the game while in uniform."

"You miss it?"

No, Miles, the thing that I have worked hard at for three years, taken injuries for, and loved to death is not something I miss in the least. In fact, I can't even remember what we're talking about. Cheerleading, you say? Oh right.

"I've never been on the sidelines before," Courtney said.

Unless it was the literal sidelines where she stood with the other cheerleaders as they watched the game.

"Life is better here," Miles said. "Easier to ignore people and not seem mean about it."

Easy for you to say, brother mine, I can't walk through school without someone noticing me.

"Join the dark side, Cory."

Join it? I think I've been forcibly placed there by my best friend. Wisdom, I seek. Advice you give me, hmm, Yoda?

"Miley," Courtney said. "Did you know when you designed the Vote for Lynn t-shirts it was for my best friend Lynn?"

"Of course."

"You could have told me."

Miles stared at her, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

"I figured she would."

Me too. If she had would the results be different? Courtney had been distracted during her tumbling pass because of Lynn. If she'd known she might have landed that backflip and never had a video made about her. Life's irony right there.

"Naturally," Courtney said.

"Elections were today, right? Did she win?"

"No, some girl that wasn't even on the ballot won."

"Huh." He took a bite. "She must have done something right to win."

Or something super humiliating that has yet to see an end. Darn you, Youtube!

"Have fun at the game."

Miles left and Courtney went back to staring at her foot but it wasn't the same. There wasn't enough hyper-focus to get away from the fact that Lynn hadn't wanted Courtney to know about her plans to run. And still, she'd lost the race.

Worse than all that, Courtney didn't know what to do to fix it.

Deciding she had enough self-pity for one day, she requested an Uber and took her foot off her vanity. With a few readjusting hops, she took a picture and posted it, captioning it: No one said a cheerleader couldn't cheer for her squad from the bleachers. The scrunchy might be overkill but I don't believe anyone can die from too much school spirit!

As Courtney grabbed her crutches and purse, her phone buzzed with incoming comments. Most of which were from the squad and the rest from the few thousand followers she had. But none of the responses were from Lynn.

Even though the Uber was still far away, Courtney made the journey to the bottom floor. Everest hadn't gotten any easier over the week. She envied Micah's elevator.

She perched on the front steps of her house when the Uber pulled up. The passenger window rolled down as Courtney fumbled to stand. Why had she sat down? Terrible decision, now she looked like an awkward baby cow trying to get up. But a cute cow because of the uniform. Make all the boy cows go moooooo.

"Do you need help?" the driver called out.

No, I normally look this ridiculous standing.

"I got it," Courtney said, managing to make her way to the car without a fatal accident.

Angling her crutches in, she flopped onto the seat. Graceful, Cory. And you call yourself a cheerleader.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Courtney."

"I'm Fernando."

"Oh, do you go by Fernie? Because I have a guy in my class who goes by Fernie."

The driver chuckled as he pulled away from her house.

"I did in high school but dropped it in college."

"Makes sense, kind of makes you sound like foliage. Fernando it is. So, Fernando, what's the craziest thing that's happened in your Uber?"

Connection is formed one thoughtful step at a time. Courtney might not be able to physically take those steps, but verbally, that was easy.

When Fernando swung the car up to the curb at the school, he got out and retrieved Courtney's crutches for her.

"Thanks," she said. "I hope the proposal goes well. I've known you for twenty minutes and know you're a keeper. If she doesn't see that then she doesn't deserve you."

"Thanks, Courtney. Have fun at the game."

Courtney waved as Fernando drove off then turned to the school. With forty-five minutes to the game, the grounds were quiet.

Courtney headed towards the locker rooms. Usually the quiet before a game excited her. It was a moment that built the anticipation. Getting ready in the locker rooms, girls talking loudly. Hearing the boys nearby getting worked up.

Now I'm totally going to be stabbed to death, or something, on school grounds. What a way to go. Dead but forever remembered because of how I died. Most likely I'll haunt the school and terrify freshmen. Not a bad end.

Courtney reached the locker rooms as the football team came tumbling out. Kyle spotted her first and threw out his arms.

"Our Class President has arrived," he shouted.

Courtney waved her hand. "Please, no pictures. Tonight is not about me. Though I did recently win and I'm now in control of our senior class, tonight it is about you."

Her exaggerated manner brought about laughs from the players, all buzzing with excitement.

"Are you going to be on the sidelines with the rest of the squad?" Ted asked.

"No, I will be in the stands." She narrowed her eyes. "I will not be cheering this game, instead I will be judging you. So you better do your best."

"Aye aye captain!" some of the players shouted.

A sharp whistle pierced the air and the football coach waved the players to the field. Shouting out goodbyes to Courtney, they jogged off. All of them except Aiden.

They stood there for a moment in uncertain silence. Well, this is pleasant. You me, me you. Exes standing here. Not making conversation. It's nice, we should do this more often. I'm sure it can't get worse.

"I heard you're throwing a party tomorrow," Aiden said.

"Yeah, Everyone wanted to celebrate so I figured why not? Make them happy."

"Sounds like everyone will be there."

"Including you?"

Why did she ask? Did she want more of these strange moments? She didn't even know what she wanted with Aiden. She didn't think about him except to try and figure out how she felt. Which she still hadn't done. She had liked him a lot when they first started dating. But now...

"Only if you don't mind?" Aiden answered her.

"Not at all. Unless you voted for Lynn."

"I did."

"Well, me too, so you can still come."

Aiden smiled and dropped his head, shaking it slightly. He almost seemed like he hated that she made him smile. Maybe you weren't supposed to smile with your ex. She wouldn't know, this was the first time she had an ex.

"Aiden!" his coach yelled.

"I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good luck!"

Courtney stood there, trapped with a sense of disassociation. She could hear the cheerleaders talking within the locker room, but she wasn't there. She saw the football players warming up, but she wasn't on the sidelines. The bleachers waited for her, but she'd never sat there before.

She could just stand there like an idiot until something happened. Solid plan, except she'd look like an idiot standing there.

"Uh...hey."

She knew that uncertain tone with an odd pause.

"Hi, Micah," Courtney said.

"What are you doing here?"

"Football game."

"Yeah...it just doesn't start for a while."

"Old habit to come early." Micah nodded and fidgeted. She wondered if she made him uncomfortable or if he was a naturally fidgety guy. "You here early for the sound?"

"Yeah. Do you...want to come with...um...me?"

With a bashful invitation such as that, how can any girl refuse?

"Lead the way."

The way happened to be up the bleachers to the sound booth that overlooked the football field. If her stairs were Everest then the bleachers were its evil twin. They offered hardly any traction and Courtney imagined her death by bleacher fives times in the span of five minutes. But Micah helped her and she managed not to die during the ascent. Which was good because she didn't want to spend the rest of her time haunting the football field.

"So this is your domain?" Courtney asked, taking in the booth.

It was a long narrow room with a wide window and a table beneath it. On it sat microphones and a soundboard with knobs that Courtney had to resist messing with. The highlight of the room was the three chairs. One of which Courtney quickly claimed.

"I guess, kinda," Micah said, going to work connecting things and looking efficient and capable.

Gotta love a man who knows what he's doing. Even if you don't know what he's doing but he looks like he's doing it well.

"How did you get into all the sound system and AV stuff?"

Micah ducked under the table, muffling his voice.

"Not good at sports. And I needed something. So...I took a shot at AV. It worked out."

Not good at sports while his brother Denzel got into Notre Dame for football. There had to be an interesting brother story there. But it wasn't her place to ask.

"What do you love most about being on the AV team?"

"I...Not sure." He retreated from under the table and look up at her. "It's...I mean...It fits me."

"I get that."

"You do?"

Courtney laughed at his shock. Yes, Micah, we can have things in common.

"Cheerleading feels right. It's strength, precision, dedication, handwork, and heart. It's not cute uniforms, pompoms, and pretty smiles. Though that's what it looks like to the rest of the world.

"It's teamwork. We throw girls into the air and catch them. We have to trust each other. Stunts are trusting yourself, never fearing that your wrist won't hold you, your back won't curve the right way. It's pushing the limits of what you think you can do and doing it. It's being fearless."

Micah sat back on his ankles, staring at her. Courtney felt her face flush under his look. Okay, that's interesting. But then again she rarely got to give this type of speech. It felt good to have it received so well.

"I never thought of it that way," Micah said.

"Yeah, I blame Teen fiction."

Micah laughed and returned to his work.

"How's it going with Max?" she asked.

"Umm...all right. I think. I don't know...exactly what to do...next."

"Come to my party tomorrow."

Micah paused, eyeing her with a baffled look.

"What?"

"Come to my party. Bring your friends and Max along. Sometimes a party mood can help loosen up a person. Maybe tomorrow can be the right time to ask her out."

"Oh."

"And here, give me your phone."

Still stunned, Micah woodenly handed over his phone. Boy, it's just a high school party, not the Grammys afterparty. Not a big deal. Though Courtney had never seen Micah at parties before when she'd seen Denzel at a lot of them. Maybe this was a big deal to him.

Courtney typed in her number and handed his phone back to him.

"There. If you need outfit help I'm only a phone call away."

"Thanks. You...don't need to do this."

"True, but I want to. Wise Ole Sage and Idiot Adventurer, remember?" 

"Yeah, I remember," he said smiling.

He had a good smile. No dimple, which was yet another lie from Teen Fiction. Didn't all cute guys have a dimple! One that made a girl swoon? Teen Fiction how could you fail me so!

Courtney wondered if Max noticed his smile.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Sure."

"What is it that you like about Max?"

Micah blushed and Courtney thought it was almost as cute as his smile. He turned away from her and leaned over the knobby soundboard thing, connecting wires to the back of it.

"I don't know...she's pretty," he said. "But it's...it's more than that. She speaks her mind."

Even if it means insulting someone. Okay, sure confidence comes in all forms. Sometimes rude ones. But hey, she isn't afraid to say something. That's...good? I guess.

"She never...I don't know...stumbles in what she says. It's always, bold."

The boy who talks in pauses and half-sentences is attracted to the girl who unflinchingly throws out words like knives. Yeah, that made sense.

"Hopefully, tomorrow will help."

"Help what?"

Courtney spun around in her chair as Micah jerked up. Max stood in the doorway to the sound booth.

"Help what?" she asked again.

Micah looked like he might die of embarrassment, which Courtney personally knew wasn't possible so she wasn't worried about him.

"Help start senior year right," Courtney said easily. Words weren't knives to her, they were handshakes: open and inviting. "I was telling Micah about my party tomorrow, which you are invited to." She stood. "Thanks for letting me hang out in here, Micah. I hope you can come tomorrow."

Bypassing Max, Courtney left the sound booth. Courtney didn't get far before Max called out to her. With some difficultly, she faced her.

"If you need my address, Micah has it," Courtney said.

"What are you doing?"

This girl needed to work on being more specific, the vagueness of her questions could lead to a million answers. The chance that Courtney picked the one Max wanted was...well, a million to one.

"Going to watch football game," Courtney said, it seemed like the most obvious choice.

"No, I mean with Micah."

Helping him win your heart. A little on the nose and not the right tactic. Luckily, Max kept talking.

"It's cruel to flirt with someone you have no interest in. It just messes with their heads."

"And you're saying that because I couldn't possibly be attracted to someone like Micah, I'm only flirting with him to garner his attention to make myself feel better?"

Wow, that would be cruel.

"You aren't?"

Jeez, how much lower could this girl's opinion of her get?

"No, I'm not. But if you're interested in Micah then I'll back off."

But for a completely different reason than you think.

Max crossed her arms. "Just leave him alone."

Not an answer and not helpful to the Get Max And Micah Together situation. Which their names are so similar that it would be a cute pairing.

Max walked off and Courtney tried to understand how Micah could like a girl so...

She didn't even know.

The stands had filled up with students and parents, creating a mass of bobbing heads and swaying jackets. At least this meant if Courtney fell she was likely to land on someone. Which was very likely because looking down at the bleachers the descent was going to be harder than the ascent. No lie, an icy summit descent seemed less intimidating right then.

"Courtney, hey," Aiden's mom said.

"Mrs. Decker. How are you?"

A talk with Aiden's mom meant avoiding her death for a minute. So that was a plus.

"I'm good. Aiden told me about your ankle. How is it?"

Fine, it's the crutches and the bleachers that might be my demise.

"Good," Courtney said. "Coach said today that everything is healing up nicely. Hopefully, by next week I'll be able to walk with a brace."

Mrs. Decker touched Courtney's arm.

"That is so good to hear. I heard about the breakup. How are you doing with that?"

Dandy which is weird.

"You know, Aiden made the best decision for his future and I fully support that."

Smiling proudly, Mrs. Decker placed her hand over her heart.

"You are so mature to see that. I know it was a tough decision for him. He cares about you so much."

Same. Though maybe minus the 'so much'. Oh my gosh, was she heartless?

"Courtney! Sweetie, Aubrey told me about your ankle."

Aubrey's mom rushed forward, offering her sympathy and questions about how she was doing. Courtney answered in the same manner to her as she did to Mrs. Decker then followed by Lynn's mom, Kyle's mom and dad, Kim's dad, and Rosa's mom.

Okay, so she was going to live on the top of these stairs. It seemed she'd been given a stay of extinction from Death by Bleacher.

"Cory, there you are," Miguel said, cutting through the concerned parental mob.

What in the world was he doing here? He didn't even like football. Forget it, her hero was here! She was taking it. Didn't matter if her hero wasn't in an attractively tight super suit instead his classic button-down and slacks combo. Never mind, this was better, he was her cousin after all.

"Our seats are over here," he said.

Courtney thanked the parents for their concern but eagerly clung to Miguel.

"Don't let me fall," she said.

"Of course not, it would make my intervening to get you completely pointless." He hooked his arm around her waist to support her. "Seriously, you get mobbed more than some celebrities."

Miguel helped her to an open spot on one of the lower benches.

"What are you even doing here?" Courtney asked. "You don't like football."

Miguel sighed. "Yes, but my parents are worried that I'm an old man trapped in a teenager's body."

"Jokes on them, you're a forty-year-old politician trapped in a teenager's body."

"Still, they found out that I've never been going to football games or any of the sporting events our school has. Instead have spent hours at a coffee shop doing homework, extra credit, and perfecting my college applications. Because of that, now I am here."

"Cruel, cruel parents making you do something fun."

"I know. My life is really hard. M&M?" he asked, holding up a bag.

"Yes. Which color do you choose for me?"

Miguel opened the hole of the bag wider, scrutinizing the different colors.

"I don't care what Jace said," Courtney said. "I still don't believe you came up with the meanings for each color. You're not whimsical enough."

"I came up with them when I was a much younger and naive person. I have since lost my whimsy."

He plopped three yellow M&Ms into her palm. Yellow for the sun: happiness. Because as Jace had said: what is more cheery than the sun? Three happinesses.

"And why do you think I would need happiness above the others?"

In answer, Miguel looked to her ankle, to where the cheerleaders were walking onto the track, to Lynn, to Aiden on the edge of the field, and back to Courtney. The man knew how to make an argument. A flawless one.

"Fair enough," she said, popping all three into her mouth.

Music poured from the speakers around the football field and the squad formed up. Courtney perked up. She loved the pre-game hype routine. Besides getting the audience hyped - as the term implied - for the game, it was a routine more along the lines of the ones they did during spring competition. It showed off that they were more than sideline pompom wavers.

"Oceanside panthers!" Lynn said through a megaphone. "Can I hear you cheer?"

The crowd all cheered out.

"Oceanside panthers I want to see you cheer!"

Lynn set aside the megaphone as the music shifted. A heavy beat took over and the squad broke into their routine. Courtney, right there with them, counting them off.

One, three, five, seven. Rosa stay on time. One, three, five, seven. Kim smile. One, three, five, seven. Hayden up, splits, twist, land. One, three, five, seven. Amy tighter curl. One, three, five, seven. Brook sharper punches. One, three, five, seven.

Courtney watched as Holly, her replacement, split from the group. Blonde and slender, just like Courtney. With her uniform and high ponytail, it almost felt like Courtney was watching herself. Watching as Holly performed her tumbling pass. As she landed her backflip, Courtney felt searing pain flare up her ankle and leg.

She cried out and grabbed the metal rim of the bleacher. Miguel shouted at the pair of roughhousing boys responsible for hitting her ankle. Half of what he said was in Spanish and not very nice. But Courtney didn't care, the pain wasn't going away. Tears built in her eyes and she sucked in deep breathes.

"Cory, are you okay?" Miguel asked, touching her shoulder.

No. No, she wasn't, she was going to lose it. She couldn't. Not where everyone could see her.

"Help me," she said.

Miguel grabbed her crutches and helped her to her one good foot. Someone in front of her leaned back, bumping Courtney's ankle. Mother trucker! She gritted her teeth as another wave of pain hit. It was doing better, Coach said it was doing better. Well, this didn't feel better!

"Courtney, are you okay?"

"Hey what's up, Courtney?"

"Cory where are you going?"

"Are you all right, Cory?"

Why did everyone here have to know her? She smiled but she knew it looked like a grimace and kept going, using Miguel as her crutch. They made it the bottom bleacher but still had to cross a stretch of it before they could get away. Courtney tucked her crutches under her arms and moved as fast as she could. With each hit of her crutch against the metal, she felt the impact in her ankle.

Keep going, keep going. Don't lose it. You can do this.

People called out to her but she ignored them. Why did the bleachers have to be so big? Why was their school so big? What was wrong with having a smaller school?

They made it off the bleachers as the song ended and the squad hit their final mark. The crowd cheered and Courtney felt overwhelmed by the sound.

Beyond the bleachers, they hit more people milling around, little kids racing after each other. People passed and jostled Courtney, making her want to scream at people. Why were they so many people here! Yeah, it was only the second game of the season but didn't people have other places to be!

Someone knocked her ankle and Courtney bit back a cry.

"Okay, this isn't working," Miguel said. "I'm going to carry you and you're going to place your crutches on either side of your ankle to protect it."

On the verge of crying, Courtney didn't argue, only waited for him to scoop her up. He did and she positioned her crutches like a barrier. The crowd quickly parted for them, not wanting to get whacked in the head. They made it to the parking lot as a voice spoke through the speakers.

"Welcome everyone to tonight's game! The Oceanside Panthers versus the Ramona Bulldogs. It's going to be a great night!"

Miguel helped Courtney into his Lexus and took her crutches for her. He climbed into the driver's side and they took off.

"I made you miss your football game," Courtney said.

"I'm truly crushed. You can cry now."

Courtney wanted to laugh at his matter-of-fact statement, but she couldn't, because she was already crying. Blazing balls of fire, she wished her stupid ankle would stop hurting.

She wished it would all stop hurting.

**********************************************************************

What's crack-a-lackin', baby?

(🤦🏽‍♀️ Oh jeez never let me say that again!)

*lets out a breath* Finally, Courtney has let herself cry. Our poor girl. How are you feeling about it all? 💭💬🗯

Even though it's sad, she needed to cry, needed to let it out. Bottling up emotions is a no-no in life. Crying doesn't make you weak, it simply means you're acknowledging your pain.

Wow! That felt way too deep for an author's note. Quick Joy, be weird before they think you're smart or something!

Ummm...BABY PANDAS ON A TIRE SWING DRINKIG SMOOTIES!

Okay, I think that worked. If not, here are some wacky facts! (Not actually wacky but I liked how it sounded with the word facts)

Miguel is Jace's cousin. Jace as most of you know is our lovable next door neighbor from Holding Back. And Miguel is mentioned in there.

Ramona bulldogs is a legit high school team. In fact it was the high school team from the town I grew up in.

Food fights. Not as much fun as movies would lead you to believe. And having gatorade poured on your before fifth period history makes you feel sticky.

There you go! Wacky facts for you.

Vote, comment, follow! *waves pompoms around and loses one* Whoops!

Favorite book series?