The last game

The late afternoon sun has begun its slow descent as we pull into the parking lot of the stadium. The sky is streaked with orange and pink, casting a warm, golden light over the flatlands surrounding Kelly's school. There’s a buzz in the air, a kind of electric energy that hums around us as people hurry about, heading toward the stadium. The evening air is crisp, cool for this time of year, but still carries the faint warmth I felt earlier in the day.

Kelly hops out of the car before I’ve even finished parking, her cheer bag slung over her shoulder. "See you!" she yells over her shoulder. Her red and white of her uniform catches the fading sunlight, the fitted fabric clinging to her athletic frame as she jogs toward the entrance, her ponytail bouncing with each step. I take a moment to watch her—there’s something about her focus, the way she carries herself, that makes me stop and appreciate just how hard she’s worked for this despite not evening liking cheerleading that much. She’s all determination, a bundle of energy channeled into perfect form. It demonstrates a strength of character I haven't recognized until now.

I call after her, but she’s already blending into the crowd of cheerleaders, their bright uniforms and confident strides adding flashes of color against the darkening sky. The cheerleaders are warming up by the field, stretching, twisting, and practicing lifts. Their youthful teen bodies move with precision, muscles taut and defined, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They exude strength, their limbs graceful but powerful as they flow through their warm-up routine, arms extended, backs arched in perfect formation.

I head to the bleachers, the cold metal of the seats biting against my legs as I sit down. The stadium grows louder with the sounds of excited chatter and the squeak of shoes on the track as athletes move into position. The scent of freshly popped popcorn drifts through the air, mixing with the tang of sweat and the earthiness of the field. The bleachers vibrate slightly as more people file in, their anticipation thick in the air.

I glance toward the sidelines where Kelly and the cheerleaders are lining up. They’re in formation now, taut with anticipation, ready to take the field. I watch Kelly—her eyes focused, her movements sharp and controlled. Her legs are long and lean, every step purposeful as she leads her team with confidence. The light catches the sheen of sweat on her skin, making her pale skin glow under the stadium lights like snow.

Just then, Colette and Ashley arrive, climbing up the bleachers to join me. Colette flops down next to me, her shoulder brushing against mine as she settles in.

“Got here just in time,” I say, gesturing toward the field.

Ashley drops into the seat on my other side, a hoodie pulled up over her dark hair. “Wouldn’t miss Kelly’s last game. She’s been talking about it for weeks. Mom and Esmere decided to stay home and finish cleaning. Kelly talked to her about it earlier.”

The whistle blows, and the game begins. The cheerleaders spring into action, Kelly at the front of the formation, her body moving with fluid precision. They kick high, their legs slicing through the air in perfect unison, their arms pumping rhythmically to the beat of the school band’s music. The energy in the crowd spikes with every move they make, the sound of cheers and applause filling the stadium.

I can’t take my eyes off Kelly. She’s completely in her element, her body moving with an effortless grace that belies the strength behind every flip, every leap. Her legs extend fully in mid-air, the muscles in her arms flex as she holds her team’s pyramid steady, her expression never wavering. There’s something about the intensity in her eyes, the way she commands the field, that pulls me in. She’s focused, driven, her body a perfect vessel of athleticism and determination.

Beside me, Colette leans over, nudging my shoulder. “She’s killing it out there.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, my eyes never leaving Kelly. “She’s got this.”

The game itself fades into the background, though I catch glimpses of it between Kelly’s cheers. The players dart across the field, the thud of the ball being kicked echoing in the night air. But my attention stays on Kelly and her team. The way their bodies twist and turn, the precision in every move. There’s a rhythm to it, a flow that’s hypnotic.

As the game wears on, the sky darkens completely, the stadium lights casting everything in a stark, almost surreal glow. The coolness of the evening deepens, and I pull my jacket tighter, though the excitement in the air keeps the chill at bay. Ashley comes back with snacks during halftime—somehow balancing a tray of nachos and drinks—and we settle into an easy conversation about everything and nothing, waiting for the game to resume. She cuddles against me for warmth on one side, while Colette does the same on my other. I give her my jacket for warmth and she smiles, appreciative.

When the whistle blows again, signaling the start of the second half, the cheerleaders are back in full ****. Kelly takes her place front and center, leading them into another routine. Her feet pound the ground in time with the beat, her body twisting and turning with the grace of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. Her team follows her lead, each cheer a burst of energy that gets the crowd going.

I glance over at Colette and Ashley, both of them engrossed in the game now, their cheers mixing with the rest of the crowd. I let myself sink into the moment—the sound of the crowd, the sharp movements of the cheerleaders, the pounding of my heart in time with the beat of the music. For a little while, I let everything else slip away. It’s just this—this moment of normalcy, of pride, of being here with my family.

As the final whistle blows and Kelly’s team takes their victory lap, the cheerleaders erupt into one last celebratory cheer. Kelly’s face is flushed, her smile wide, her blonde hair sticking to her skin in damp curls, but there’s a glow to her—an unmistakable pride that radiates from her as she waves to the crowd.

The stadium begins to empty, and we stay in the stands, watching Kelly finish up with her team. I glance over at Colette and Ashley, and we all exchange a look—we head down to meet her near the field as the crowds thin out.

When Kelly spots us, she jogs over, her face still flushed from the adrenaline, her breath coming fast. “Did you see that? We crushed it!”

“Yeah, you did,” I say, grinning, pulling her into a deep, sweaty hug. “You were amazing out there.”

Colette and Ashley chime in with their own compliments, and Kelly beams, practically glowing with pride as she catches her breath.

As we head to the car, the stadium lights dim behind us, and the cool night air wraps around us. Ashley and Colette wave goodbye, deciding to go home, while I help Kelly into the car. She is still covered in sweat and dust and hairspray, but she looks stunning. Something about her sheer determination enthralls me, and I smile. "What?" she asks, looking up at me as she rubs her thigh and winces.

"Just... You were awesome. Are you okay?"

"Just a little sore is all," she answers, sighing. "I'll be alright. Hey, don't take me home yet. I snuck some beer into the trunk when you weren't looking, and a blanket. I know a spot we could hang out at. If you want."

A mischievous glint builds in her eyes.

"Where?" I ask, eagerly circling the car and climbing into the driver's seat beside her.

She gives me a wink and smirks. "Start the car, driver. I'll tell you where to go."