𝙘𝙖𝙬 𝙘𝙖𝙬!

girl enamoured with the praise, cheeks flushing ever - so - slightly, but barely noticeable with how RED they already were. though it couldn't all be put down to a natural aptitude: just ask her brother and mother about the HOURS of practice, they were surely fed up of the thudding coming from her room at all hours. anything for the team. smile remains across lips as arms circle her knees, not used to such compliments. not used to any of this. “ thank you. ” so quiet, shy almost. “ nonono! you guys didn't make me feel like that at all, HONEST. ” face scrunching up momentarily, she hoped they didn't think she hated them. if anything it was the opposite. “ i'm having so much fun here. even if i look like a TOMATO after every practice. ” a hasty laugh, looking over at the girl next to her, at how PERFECT she still looked after everything. ( she needed to find out how that was possible. and fast. ) “ she really is! like, that whole routine is gonna look amazing, they won't know what's hit them. ” especially when it was all POLISHED and perfect. “ are we gonna learn any more of your routines next practice? ”

Relief rushes through her when Bonnie assures Stacy that she's fine. She sometimes worries about pushing the new recruits too hard -- her love and passion for dance is evident, but not everyone feels the same way she does. And that's fine! Moderation is key, after all, and Stacy tries to remember that with every routine she teaches. (It's easy to forget, though, when she's in the moment.) So, her shoulders sag, and Stacy's grin grows at Bonnie's words. "Okay, thank God," she laughs, chuckling to herself. "I never wanna push anyone too hard, or like -- I dunno, make people feel bad. I've been dancing since I was a kid, so it comes naturally to me," she explains. "But everyone can learn! And you're doing a really good job, Bonnie. Honest."

Her sneakers squeak as she stands up, collects her things into her duffel bag. A quick snap of her water bottle lets her take a sip, replenishing herself with relief. "Do you need a ride home, by the way?" She asks, capping the bottle and tossing it into her open bag. "I was gonna stop for something to eat on my way home, anyways, so we could make it a fun adventure."

So, the sudden figure before him and the crashing of books wasn't entirely unexpected. A shock, sure, and a loud enough situation for the librarian to give them a harsh glare. Richie takes a few seconds to process, barely paying attention to the flash of blonde curls and familiar uniform, before his brain caught up.

The teen immediately begins helping her scoop up the scattered textbooks, carefully straightening pages that got flattened in the tumble. "Oh, don't worry about it," he reassures between gathering the fallen items. "It honestly happens more than you'd think. Besides, books aren't the easiest thing to carry. Are you alright?"

When the other person starts to help her, Stacy offers them a kind, reassuring smile. Her hands focus on grabbing the heavier books, first, before she takes the offered papers from him. With a nod, she gives him a silent thank you. At her full height, Stacy finally takes in who her helper is, and her eyes narrow as she tries to ascertain who he is. He looks vaguely familiar, in the way that most students at Hatchetfield High do, but Stacy can't place him. Odd.

Still, her head shakes. "I'm fine! I'm okay, thank you," she starts, laughing in agreement. "Books are hard. And they're heavy. Why are they so heavy? Like, you'd think that, by now, someone would come up with a way to make learning all this crap, like, ten times easier. I don't have time to read all of this!" Her hands shake slightly, and Stacy rounds the corner, lets the books fall to the tabletop with a loud thud. "Ugh, the whole thing is just stupid."

Chris nods, eyes flicking to the wood floor then back to her. It makes sense, footing and all that. Movement. But as she mentions she likes basketball way more he grins a bit wider, chuckling then nodding his head, "I agree, but I'm bias. Secret is safe with me." He pauses as she does, watching as she shifts then asks about them winning. His eyebrows draw together momentarily in thought before he's relaxing, nodding again and smiling a bit wider, "Yeah, I do. I think we have a really good team this year," he assures.

Their football team was pretty good too. Max? As much as Chris disagreed with how he went about things... the guy had an arm on him. He was a good quarterback and it often shone in major ways during games. However, the basketball team was more than just one guy throwing a ball. They were a real team and there was barely an a jerk in sight. Sure, some guys were popular and let it go to their egos... but generally? Everyone got along equally on the team.

Giggling, she nods. It's nice when conversations can be easy like this. Stacy, generally, gets along with everyone -- despite the peer pressure she receives from Max Jagerman to be mean to those he deems are lesser than, Stacy is a generally positive person. Without the prying eyes of the big man on campus, it's easy to fall into casual and comfortable conversation.

Sneaker clad toes knock together, and Stacy claps against her wrist to show her enthusiasm. "Hell yeah!" She cheers. "We deserve a break, I think, after football season. Like, yeah, Max is good, but I can't see Clivesdale take another victory from us." The name has her lips curled into a snarl, and Stacy shakes her head. "Fuck Clivesdale."

girl sits, more like SLUMPS on the bleachers, not even trying to hide the heaving breaths leaving her chest. hands move upwards to dark locks, tightening ponytail ( trying to smooth over her ragged appearance. ) water bottle brought to lips, knee jumping up and down absentmindedly. calm down, bon. head turning towards companion, shuffling slightly to allow her room, lips curling upwards to a shy smile. “ 's okay. just not used to it yet. ” everything a reminder of how NEW she was, how amateur she felt. how much of an imposter she was. foot brought upwards, untying and retying shoelaces as she gets lost in thought, mind racing trying to remember everything that had just been drilled into them. and people say cheerleading's not a sport. “ i'll get better. promise . . . i really liked the routine, by the way. the bit with the kicks and everything was my favourite. ” even if she didn't QUITE have it down. yet.

She feels bad. It's not Bonnie's fault -- in fact, of all the new people that've recently joined the squad, Stacy would say that she was the fastest learner. Her passion for the sport was easily recognizable. As someone who focuses her time on dancing, Stacy can always tell when someone really wants something. And Bonnie wants to be apart of this team.

So, with a gentle touch, she puts an arm on Bonnie's shoulder. It's meant to be reassuring, at the very least, and Stacy hopes her smile is genuine when she meets the other girl's eyes. "You did great, Bonnie. I really mean it!" Her eyes are bright, and Stacy gives her arm a squeeze. "I don't want you to, like, get down on yourself for anything. I think we all just needed to hit the hard refresh button after being away for so long. And I'm sorry if we made you think you sucked, or anything like that. You don't." Nodding, she takes her hand back. "Thanks, though, by the way. Brenda is a really kick ass choreographer."

closed: @pompomstm where: high school gymnasium

It's after school and basketball practice is in full swing with the cheer team also present. Drills are being ran, plays to outsmart the opposing teams, and then cheer routines worthy of clapping over. It's truly a bustling place within Hatchetfield High's gymnasium. Chris being captain of the basketball team is present, of course, and so is Stacy (second in command under Brenda)-- who is someone he calls a good friend. In fact they're taking a break together on the bleachers only pulled partially out. He'd brought some tangerines to share with whoever and was currently working to peel one open as Stacy spoke beside him. His eyes lift from his task to smile show that his smile is genuine and he's listening, dark hues flicking over her eager and excited expression. She's been telling him about the new routines they had yet to even touch on yet... how she and Brenda was geniuses when it came to them. He hadn't a doubt in his mind.

She finishes or maybe pauses for a breath, but Chris takes the moment to speak, "Hey, I'm sure it's going to blow our minds. You and Brenda are queens when it comes to making routines. The ones at the football games have been phenomenal. I'm sure they'll be just as great for the basketball games."

Indoor practice was so much better than being on the field. The weather was too cold right now, for starters, but being able to watch the game she's cheering for adds a little excitement. She's no expert, of course, but the more Stacy pays attention, the better she feels about her performance. It brings a layer of passion to what she does -- something that isn't always present when she's not sure what's going on.

Around a mouthful of tangerine, she smiles, nodding eagerly towards Chris. "They have to be a little different, just 'cause of the floor," she gestures to the wood, "but, the vibes are totally the same. Plus, I like cheering for basketball way more than I do for football." Leaning in, her voice lowers. "Just don't tell Brenda that." Giggling, she sits back up, spine straight. "It's just easier, I think. And nicer. And the people are nicer, too. Like you." Head tilts, and Stacy's feet shift beneath her. "Do you guys think you've got a good chance at winning?"

when the popular cheerleader had come into the shop, ruth had debated switching with her dad and moving to the back to pack tea blends. the shop provided a little barrier for onslaught. after all, why would max jagerman ever be interested in a tea and book shop? but it didn't stop the anxiety from squeezing tight within ruth's chest, especially when the girl seemed to address her.

she gave a nervous swallow at the seemingly genuine question, rubbing her palms anxiously against her sweater. " u - um . . . hmm . . . " she mumbled thoughtfully as she glanced in the direction of the tea tin displays. " there's war and peach? it's sweet and fruity, so she might like that? " she suggested, licking her lips before rubbing them together. " or if she's a matcha person, she might like matcha do about nothing . . . "

Stacy tries to follow with Ruth's explanations. There's a lot she's missing, she fears, because the puns are completely lost on her. Eyes wide, she looks towards the tin displays, head bouncing between the various options. The second one brings a smile to her face -- if she knows anything, she knows matcha -- but she's not sure if that's what Miss Ivy wants. The first one, though... maybe.

"You said the peach one is fruity?" She asks for clarification. Her hands are already moving to swing her purse onto the cash wrap, fingers tugging at the zipper to open the top. She fishes around inside, clearly in search of her wallet, as her eyes look back up. "And what if someone likes coffee? Or, like, things that taste like coffee, but maybe they aren't coffee?" Leaning in, her smile is a little wide, a little joyful. "I like coffee."