Cheer Legacy 1 E-Book

Mandy F. Liew

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Penelope 'Pippy' Lydia Harlow has generations of cheerleading blood in her veins. But what happens when the spirit has run its course, and she doesn't find it as fun as she should?

Join Pippy on a journey of cheerleading, boys, heartbreak, adventures and self-discovery.

Leseprobe

Mandy F. Liew

Cheer Legacy 1

Warmth

For the heartbroken. For the ones fighting for life. For the ones who don't give up. BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Copyright

Warmth

Pippy #1

Cheer Legacy Trilogy

Copyright © 2017 by Mandy F. Liew

All rights reserved. 

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

 First published, 2017

 ISBN 1230001862492

For the heartbroken.

For the ones fighting for life.

For the ones who don't give up.

Prologue

Prologue

10 years old

My mom, beautiful and angelic, her platinum blonde hair almost silver, smiles at me. The stadium is in an uproar over the game, and her squad is cheering with full spirit. Even at this age, I knew they were doing an offensive cheer, while the opposing team's squad was doing a defensive cheer. 

I stand with my dad in the stands, and I know both of us are staring proudly at my mom. My dad grabs my waist and hauls me squealing with delight to sit over his shoulders. My mom sees us and grins widely, not missing a beat while she is flung ten feet into the air. It was like watching a swan, all white and graceful. 

I just know that I want to be her when I grow up. I wanna be a swan-like angel too. 

12 years old

I made it into my middle school's cheer squad! My mom throws me happily up into the air, and I flip and land neatly. 

"I'm so proud of you, baby." She reaches out and squeezes my hand, then pulls me in to kiss my forehead. "We're the best team ever!"

"Now, now, Georgia," my dad chuckles. "Don't hog our Pippy, I wanna congratulate her too."

I giggle with delight and launch myself into my daddy's arms as he squishes me to his chest. My dad was a really cool businessman who used to be real popular at football. But after he retired it was awesome trading business for him. He has all these cool contacts who pampered and spoiled me, but my mommy doesn't let me become a brat.

I'm good at a lot of things other than cheerleading. 

"If you have a range if things you can do," mommy said, "Then if you decide cheer is not for you, you have a lot of other things you can do."

But mommy doesn't understand that I love cheer. I love to see how I can help a squad, raise the crowd's spirit and help athletes to score with energy. But I love her, so I humour her by getting straight A's, join plenty of other clubs and spread my wings. 

14 years old

Jimmy Ford asks me out again, and I finally say yes. He's not my first boyfriend, more like fourth. He's the most popular guy in school, but I find him a bit dumb, but oh well. Everyone expects me to go out with him because he's been writing me copied poetry and sending me flowers. After dating for two weeks, mommy asks me if I really like him, and I'm not sure so I say yes since he's my boyfriend.

We go to homecoming together and everyone says that they're jealous of Jimmy because I'm so beautiful, and the girls are whispering that Jimmy is so good-looking. I suppose I agree, but I find myself unable to like someone who can't string together a word more than two syllables. Plus, he's failing Math and though I try to tutor him, all he wants to do is kiss me. 

After homecoming, Jimmy gets in a ridiculous fight with Henry Lott because Henry says he wants to steal me from Jimmy. Honestly, I have had enough. I break up with Jimmy, and suddenly I'm bombarded with guys making moves on me. 

When I complain, mommy and daddy just laughs and say that I'm the IT girl. Whatever. I have three guys best friends and one girl best friend, Sheila, who's also on the squad. 

My body is slowly changing, developing boobs and a nice butt, according to Ryan, guy BFF #1. I'm growing to be as willowy as my mom, but I'm more tanned and toned, because I do a lot of other sports like soccer and basketball and dance. I love dance, it's more free than cheer, but it's just for myself. Cheer is for everyone else. My dad says since I do cheer like my mom wants, I should do piano like he wants, so I laugh and agree.

I master the piano from age 5 until now, and gotten a distinction every time. 

Sheila stops being my friend when the boy she likes, Kenneth, likes me instead. 

"You get everyone and everything, with that pretty face and hair, and you don't even try but you are so good at it all!" Sheila screams. "I hate you! I'm so sick of being your sidekick!"

The very next day, she's hanging out with the other girls who hate me. It hurt a lot, but I can't do much about it. I'm just doing the best I can, and if being me is not okay, it means she never liked me anyway. It still hurt that I no longer had a girl BFF who would come over and braid my hair and share boy stories and ghost stories and giggle until morning. 

15 years old

I stare into the distance as they shoveled the dirt into the ground. A single teardrop falls from my eye. I haven't cried since the hospital when my mom finally gave up fighting for her life after the disastrous accident. I don't think I'll ever come to another funeral or cemetery again.

My dad hugs me close to him, but I don't feel anything. Neither does he, judging from the dead look in his eyes. We have only each other now. 

My dad moves us away from our town because it's too painful for both of us to be here. Ryan, Jason and Eddie are the saddest to see me go, and I hug them the tightest because they had stayed by me through it all. 

After moving to a new city and new school, daddy checks out of my life. He still comes home every once in a while, but those visits are few and far between. Every time he comes home, I greet him warmly, and he breaks down and cries because I look too much like mommy. Finally daddy leaves the house under my name, gives me a trust fund and two credit cards, sticks me with a housekeeper and leaves for good. 

16 years old

I only feel cold now. 

Pippy? That’s your name?

I flip into the air and land neatly, execute a herkie and spin, snap to the top and right, kick to the left, spin, bow and straighten, then I execute a few consecutive flips and land neatly. Everything is perfect, from planning to execution. My heart thuds rapidly in my chest and I breathe heavily, blood pumping through my veins. 

I had missed cheerleading, since it's the only connection I have left to my mom. After dad left, it's just been me, the wall pictures and the housekeeper Oma. 

"Go, Cougars!" I cheer, a bright, beaming smile I didn't feel plastered on my face. I'd perfected the fake smile until it actually appears real and warm. But there's no real smile in me. No warmth. I only feel cold now. 

The captain and co-captain, both gorgeous seniors, look at me passively, poker faces up the whole time. They won't give any indication of who gets in until the list comes out next week. I'm really lucky to transfer in time to even try out for the team. 

"Introduce yourself," the captain says. She has this full head of beautiful, rich mahogany hair. Even though I'm not a guy, I want to touch it. Her voice is warm and preppy, but her eyes give nothing away.

"I'm Pippy Harlow, sixteen years old. I have 4 years of cheerleading experience and I love it," I say with dignity to make up for my lack of enthusiasm. I don't love it. I love my mom. But she's not here, so cheer will have to do. 

"Pippy? That's your name?" the vice-captain says with snark. 

I realize my mistake and shake my head. "Uh, Penelope, but everyone calls me Pippy."

"Ah, like a short version," the captain laughs, and shoots the vice-captain a glare. The vice-captain shrugs, but I don't care. If I get in, I'll be here longer than her. She's a senior, so this is her last year. 

"Yeah," I agree. 

"Well, thanks for your time, Pippy," the captain says warmly. "When you go out, let the next one in, will you?"

I nod and snap my feet then walk off. I wonder if I should have thanked them, but I'm already opening the gym door so oh well. I high-five the next girl in line, wish her luck and go to pick up my stuff from the lockers. 

"How was it? Good? Bad? Did they interrogate you?" A peppy blonde gushes at me. 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and shake my head. "They didn't say much. After I did my routine they just asked me to intro myself then asked me to call the next girl in."

"Oh," the girl falters, and I take that opportunity to walk past her quickly into the showers. 

After a quick shower and changing into normal clothes, I find the locker room abuzz with girls who are excited and nervous. They shouldn't have come so late, now they had to look at their competition. My mom always said to go to auditions super early so that you don't get the chance to wear yourself down mentally.

I think it was good advice, looking at the girls look at each other with nerves. 

I sneak around them unnoticed and heave a sigh of relief once out. I've been here a week and I can tell the difference between my town and this city. The school is huge, I think, staring at the soccer field longingly. I see a guy without a shirt dribbling against a guy with a shirt. Even from all the way here, I can tell that they're sweating like mad. 

Then the shirtless guy makes a break and dribbles past the shirt, and I wince, seeing his mistake. The shirt steals the ball and takes the shot. Goal! I get excited, and I really want to go and play, but I just took a shower and it was a bit too much effort. Plus, it's hot. What kind of morons play soccer at noon? They were going to get skin cancer and heat stroke. 

"Ooooh, good taste," a black haired girl sidles up next to me and I jerk out of my trance. 

"What?"

"That's Seth Eastwood and Jesse Parker. Seth is the soccer defence captain and Jesse is the soccer offense captain," the girl wiggles her brows. "In other ways too, if you know what I mean."

I scrunch my eyebrows, thinking, then shake my head. "I don't know what you mean?" I walk faster, anything to get out of this ridiculous sun. 

"Oh. Well. Never mind, I don't know what I said either. I'm Chelsea Sterling," she smiles brightly at me. I see that she's got beautiful mocha coloured skin, with those exotic features. Mixed? 

"Pippy Harlow," I say, as we both hurry out of the sun and into the wide cafeteria. It's an amazing place; more like an over-sized country club than a school. 

"I'm a sophomore, you?" Chelsea dogs my every step, and I raise my eyebrows at her.

"I'm a sophomore too. Why are you following me?" I find the bulletin board and start towards it. I hope they haven't finished with soccer and basketball tryouts yet. 

"Oh, just, I saw that you were alone, and I wanted to say hi," Chelsea peers at the bulletin board as well. "Also, you intrigued me. You're so gorgeous but you don't seem to even know it. Plus, the way you were watching Seth and Jesse was more like you were into the game than them," Chelsea gives a laugh at that. "You have no idea how rare that is."

"I'm not gorgeous," I say lightly, seeing the brochure for soccer. Damn! It was last weekend. I missed the deadline. I'd literally just gotten here six days ago on Monday. What about basketball...? Yes! I take a picture of the date and tryout time. It's on next Wednesday. I still can't believe cheerleading held their tryouts on a Saturday. I hide a groan. In this good weather, I could be at home drinking apple juice and reading a sci-fi book.

"Exactly my point, and yes, you are," Chelsea says, breaking me out of my day dreaming. I stuff my phone back in my pocket. "So what are you into?" She waves a hand at the board.

I point at basketball. "I can still go to this. Missed soccer, though."

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. "What are you doing at school on a Saturday?"

"Oh." I blink. "I went for cheerleading tryouts. Probably gonna go back soon, there's nothing else to do."

Chelsea gaped at me. "You're a cheerleader?"

"Surprise?" I laugh. "What, do I not look it?"

Chelsea backtracks quickly. "Oh, no, of course you do! It's just, you seem so mature and together and not at all..."

"Perky?" I supply for her helpfully and then smirk. "Yeah, I'm not too perky. It's just something that's in the family. So what's your poison?" It is my turn to gesture at the board.

Chelsea blushes shyly and points at an art class poster. "I'm totally into abstract art. I can't seem to get away from it. The club admissions isn't open till Monday, though."

I nod. "I see." Well. "So... bye?" I turn on my heel but she calls me back.

"Pippy! Wait!" She catches up. "If you have nothing on today, how about you hang out with me?"

I stop walking and stare at her suspiciously. What's this about? "Why?"

Chelsea flushes and even deeper red. "Okay, so maybe I was blown away by how pretty your hair is blowing in the wind and how it sparkles in the sun. Then you looked up and I swear you have the face of an angel. I just really want to be your friend. I can tell you're special, and I wanna be part of your life."

I stare at her. Uh. What? "Uh," I say, unable to think of anything else, I blurt: "Are you like, lesbian?"

Chelsea's eyes widen and her hand flies up to her mouth in what looks like horror. She shakes her head adamantly. "Oh god, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blurt everything out like that, but I meant it. You're like so beautiful, I wanna be your friend."

"O-kay..." I step away. "Maybe next time. I'm really tired from moving and then coming to school right off the bat. See you Monday." I wave and smile at her to soften the rejection, spin on my heel and get the heaven out of here.

I will definitely see you around.

I watch the ground when I walk. I didn't use to, but when there's nothing for you to look up for, the only thing to look at is the ground. That's why I see the dirty soccer shoes too late, and walk smack into the guy wearing them. 

"Oh!" I gasp, as strong hands flash out and steady me. I look up and recognize him as the shirtless guy. "Thanks."

The guy stares at my face longer than I deem necessary, and then he lets go as if he'd been burned. "No problem," he smiles. Then he puts a finger under my chin and lifts it. I blink in shock. "That's it. Keep your head at this level. Then you won't go walking into people," he laughs, and it's a nice sound. I decide I like it. The warmth in it touches a bit of the cold inside of me.

"Okay," I say, stepping away from him. He's really handsome, and has a tight six pack from what I saw earlier. Tanned skin, ripped, lean muscles and gorgeous, dark blue eyes. It's so blue it almost glows. 

"I'm Jesse Parker," the hottie says. "You must be new. I'd definitely recognize you if I'd seen you before."

I shrug. I know I should be squealing with delight that such a cool guy is talking to me, but after my dad left, and the coldness settled in, I haven't really been able to feel much. "Yeah. Just transferred in on Monday."

He grins these beautiful, strong white teeth at me, then nods. "And your name?"

I smile at him. "I'll let you know if we ever meet again." Which we probably will, not just because we are both jocks, but also because I know the warmth in his laughter is irresistible to me. "See you around."

"Definitely," he shakes his head. "I will definitely see you around."

Ah, there comes the blush, I think, as I feel it flood my face. He's flirting. It's been a while since someone flirted with me. I back away from him quickly and get out of there too. Jesse, I think. Wow. He's so different from all those boys back home. He felt more. Like, powerful. I don't know how to describe it. 

I reach my car and slide in. It's a beautiful Mercedes-Benz W221 that is the first thing I splurged on with my trust fund. He's my guilty pleasure, and I feel like my mom frowns upon him because it is my first rebellious act. I don't touch my trust fund after buying Leonard (the car). I name him Leonard because he looks like a rich-ass, well refined beauty. 

I throw my stuff in the back and edge out of the parking lot carefully, then I'm out of school. I drive around aimlessly, acquainting myself with the city. I spy an empty spot near a frozen yogurt shop, so I figure, why not? It's a sign. I park and go in, surveying the crowds. Wow, it's bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside. There are tons of people here, so I scoot to the selection so that I don't stand in anyone's way.

"How can I help you?" A very gay looking guy pops up behind the counter. "Wow, you're really pretty!"

I shake my head and give him a wistful smile. Do employees get points for flattering their customers nowadays? "Can I get an original, regular size. Uh, some strawberries, blueberries and nata de coco."

He winks at me playfully. "Coming right up, gorgeous. Right this way, please." I follow him to the cashier and he rings it up. "That's fifteen dollars, please."

I place the cash in his waiting hand and he passes the fro-yo to me. "Thanks," I say, giving him a smile. "Best service ever," I compliment him. He's been real nice and polite. From the way he beams at me, it seems he doesn't hear praise enough. 

"Do you go to school here?" he asks. "I've never seen you around before."

"Yup, I'm new," I say tightly, then I inch away and go out. I drive home and dash into the library (Well, I call it a library but really it's a room with all four walls shelved with books. So...library.) I curl up on the couch after selecting a book and eat my fro-yo while reading. 

When I read, sometimes I get so absorbed that I don't notice anything else. So when Oma opens the door and shakes my shoulder gently, I spring up, blinking in confusion. My head still in the story and it takes me a while to return to earth. Oh, I stare at the clock. It's dinner time. Already?! Wow. 

I see that I've already made it past halfway in the book and fold the top corner to mark the page. Most girls like to keep their books in pristine condition, while I like mine worn down and well-read. Like my mom says...said, books look their best when they look like they've been read. I agree wholeheartedly.  

I go downstairs for dinner and then I retreat into the world of oblivion once more. 

I do some exercises on Sunday and train my body, then I do some searching for a dance crew. As much as I miss cheer, I miss dance more. Dancing is a 'me' thing, something separate from the activities and lives my parents had wanted for me. It's where I feel the least pressure. 

Either by fate or design, I end up at the city square where crews are battling on the streets. I park the car and lock it, then I go around checking them out, trying to gauge which style suits me the most. 

Then I hear it. My jam. Bang by KP ft. Lost Generation. 

I spin and see the crew busting out moves that take my breath away. Three dancers stand at the sides, free styling while two guys break dance in the front, then they all convened and broke into popping and locking, and I know I found my crew.  Once the song is over, I go over to them as they sprawl on the ground, gulping water from bottles. 

"Hey," I say. "Can I join your crew?"

They kinda freeze while staring up at me. The boys with dumbstruck faces and the girls with careful suspicion. 

"What's your name?" A guy with this ridiculously hot body rolls to his feet. 

"Pippy," I say, and I think that's the only name they need from me.

"Pippy?" the guy snorts. "Is that a real name?"

I shrug. "Everyone calls me that, so it's real enough to me. So, can I join?"

The guy throws his head back and laughs. "You think we take just anyone? You gotta prove yourself first little miss sunshine."

I nod. I expect this much. "Sure. You play a song, I'll dance."

The guy is already shaking his head before I finish my sentence. "No can do, Barbie. We don't audition where everyone can see. Audition is at our place."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "And where's that?" I prompt.

The entire crew laughs, looking me up and down. One of the girls stand up and point at my clothes. "Ain't no way you're comin' wearing those clothes. You'll be mugged a'fore you can say 'shit'!" Huh. A Brit. 

I stiffen. It must be a ghetto place, then. I don't mind. I used to have friends who live in dangerous neighborhoods. I relax and shrug. "Sure. I have casual stuff. So where is it?"

They look at each other, clearly baffled at my lack of fear. Then the leader shrugs. "Here, gimme your phone."

I hand it over and he types his number and the address inside. 

"See you tomorrow night, 6pm." The leader reaches out and offers me his hand. "I'm Atticus, by the way."

I smile a little. "Like in To Kill A Mockingbird?"

Atticus growls playfully. "Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before."

The other girl, not the Brit, is glaring daggers at me. I wave at them and walk purposefully away. I don't need any drama. 

I have a thing for fro-yo.

Mondays use to be brutal, but every day feels the same to me now, so I don't feel the Monday blues. 

"Who's gonna win today?"

"COUGARS gonna win today!"

"Who's house?"

"OUR HOUSE!"

"WHO'S HOUSE?"

"OUR HOUSE!"

I close my locker and flatten myself to it just in time to see what seems like the entire student body rolling past. They are really hyped up, and I'm pretty sure it's about the basketball game later in the evening. Lots of varsity colours fly past me as they continue to yell out. It's like a portable pep rally. 

"Hey," Jesse stops in his tracks when he spies me. He's wearing the basketball jacket, and I see the number 23 under his jacket.

"Hey, captain," I smile at him. He stares at me like I just gave him a surprise. Well. I hope it's a pleasant one. 

"How do you...?" 

I point at his shirt number. "Our school's captain number is 23. I thought you're a soccer guy?"

Jesse smirks. "I'm very versatile, but yeah. Basketball is my thing. Soccer," he sighs, "I like it but our school's coach sicced soccer on me because we don't have enough good players."

I have to lean in to hear him over the loud roaring in the hallway. "I see. Well, good luck tonight!"

He grins that warming smile at me, and I feel a little more of that ice in my heart thaw. "You coming to the game?"

I shift my feet. "What time is it?"

"The pep rally is at six, the game is at eight," he yells over at me.