How I became a Cheerleader

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Chapter 1

Principal Abigail Flowners was celebrating her 50th birthday. She was at her nice house, where the bushes in front of the house were fully trimmed, where the pool in the back of the house had no leaves, and the three bedrooms in the house were completely empty. This was not unusual for Abigail Flowners; she had gotten quite used to a life of loneliness which she referred to as solitude.

She brought her cake from the fridge onto the table. It was vanilla with chocolate icing, but there was no writing on top. Abigail thought it would have been incredibly embarrassing to have to order her own cake with her own birthday message to herself. Instead she simply told the person working at Publix that she wanted a cake which resembled a birthday cake. The 16-year-old behind the counter at the Publix didn’t ask many questions and went straight to work.

Today was a special occasion, 50 years. That meant that she had become a principal 15 years ago. She had graduated from college 28 years ago, and the last time that anyone actually showed up to celebrate her birthday was three years ago, her best friend Michelle, who was now living halfway across the country.

That was perfectly fine, though, according to Abigail Flowners. Perfectly fine indeed. When the night was over, three slices of cake were consumed while the rest was thrown in the fridge for later consumption. She took off her work jacket and her blouse from a long day of work and observed her own body. At some point between cheerleading for the hunky quarterbacks back in the 90s and today, her body had grown old. Her heavy breasts, which had led to some fun times in college, now were cumbersome and weighed down by gravity. Her skin, once fresh and smooth, had grown wrinkled in the Florida sun, and her waist had grown substantially too. She was still beautiful; beauty like Abigail’s never fades, it just transforms. But she wasn’t beautiful in the way that she had known herself to be beautiful. It all happened so slowly until all at once one question came to mind: “What happened?”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, that answer was easy. Why was she alone? Why did she grow so old and overweight? All of it tied back to one decision, at least in her mind it did. After graduating, her boyfriend of one year asked her if she wanted to go to Spain with him, travel the world before they both became adults forever. She rejected him flatly. There was only one thing on her mind: she wanted to be a principal.

And you know what? She committed to that dream 100%. She would stay inside to study, she would go to all the recommended lectures, she fast-tracked her way into a classroom and quickly took on as much responsibility as possible.

Before she knew it, her life was exactly what she wanted. She was a principal of Fairmont High School, a beautiful high school by any metric, with a student population of over 1000 and some of the highest test scores in the state. At least now they were, with the numerous changes done by Principal Flowners. But all those dreams take a toll on the body and on the mind and on the social life.

She couldn’t say that she regretted any of it though. They had their drawbacks for sure, but so does every decision. For now, she took comfort in the fact that her bedsheets were made of silk, her pillow was nice and cold from the brand Purple, and her clothes were nice and folded. With those comforts, she slept like a baby.

* * *

“Principal Flowners, did you hear me?”

“Abigail?!”

Principal Flowners shot up to a full seated position behind her desk. She had been daydreaming again. That had been happening to her a lot lately. She was in her plain office, gray carpet, normal desk, pictures of her on various school trips to the aquarium, the zoo, and a couple of minor league baseball games. Across from her was Mr. Johnson, the literature teacher at the school and unofficial head of that department, as well as Mrs. King, the science teacher and official head of the science department.

“Did you hear us, Principal Flowners?”

“Yes, and please don’t use my first name again while I’m on property, please.” She brushed her hair back, hoping they would just blame themselves for her distraction.

“Then you’ll know how serious it is,” Mrs. King said. “For the last 15 years our scores have only ticked upwards and then this year there was a huge drop-off. I mean, statistically a drop-off like this shouldn’t even be possible considering we still have the same exact classes, except our freshmen, and yet,” she threw down a paper onto the principal’s desk with a menacing-looking bar graph, “the scores don’t lie.”

Now Mr. Johnson spoke up. “Principal Flowners, 20 years ago no one would have even considered Fairmont High School one of the best schools in the state, maybe even the country, and through your programs we’ve been able to overcome great obstacles. Heck, it’s the reason I’m even here. But if we’re going to keep this up, then we’re going to need a change and soon.”

They were right, of course. “Yes, Mr. Johnson, that is something that we can agree on. It’s clear that despite my best efforts time has marched on and we find ourselves at a strange impasse where the students and their technology seem to be surmounting any current rules we have in place.”

“How about an outright ban?” suggested Mrs. King. Principal Flowners had always found her style rather harsh, especially as someone who prided herself on finding the right opportunity for students to enjoy themselves and maintain their own individuality.

“No. An outright ban is out of the question.” Normally, she would leave it there, but these two pillars of the educational community deserved more. “We ban the students from having their phones and all of a sudden they have watches, or we are hearing emails from parents who are concerned why they can’t contact their student, or even our teachers who have fully integrated phones into their lesson plans in one way or another.”

Neither teacher could say anything against that. Mr. Johnson looked down as if grieving the simpler days of society, and all three said nothing as they considered their next steps, when suddenly, just before Principal Flowners could dismiss them to reconvene at another time, Mrs. King interrupted. “Principal Flowners, may I suggest something a little unorthodox that has found its way into the science community recently. It just passed FDA approval.”

“Mrs. King, are you suggesting drugs?”

“In a way, but these are completely safe. In fact they just sent me a bottle so that our school could experiment with them and report back to the Progression Center on how effective they are.” Principal Flowners couldn’t believe this was a serious suggestion, but Mrs. King did not seem to be joking,hands and legs folded, her deep brown eyes staring straight into the blonde principal with a severity. “With our scores in the direction they’re heading, every day becomes a bigger struggle for our teachers if—”

“What exactly do they do?” Principal Flowners interrupted.

Mrs. King reached into the jacket pocket of her vintage black blouse and pulled out a bottle of yellow pills in a clear bottle. “Are you sure they’re safe, Alana?” Mr. Johnson added.

“Of course they are! I wouldn’t recommend them if they weren’t.” She placed the bottle onto the principal’s wood desk next to her little gnome garden that she kept there to ease students. “And they are regressers. They target the brain and possibly the body to reduce someone’s age.”

“Why would I ever!?”

“Principal Flowners!” The tension was palpable. Mr. Johnson, with nothing to add, gave a Jim Halpert stare at an imaginary camera, while Mrs. King continued. “What I am offering here is an opportunity to be able to reconnect with the younger community. The effects are temporary, and will only serve to give you an insight into the minds of the students. Just don’t take more than one in 12 hours.” Mrs. King was one of the few people who could speak that way to Principal Flowners. They had arrived to Fairmont High School around the same time and shared a similar passion for education. From time to time, they had even been friends.

The bell rang. “Thank you, Mrs. King and Mr. Johnson. Time for class.”

They both nodded, the pill bottle sitting and staring at her. Principal Flowners grabbed it. She let it hover over the trash can and then stored it in her drawer, just in case, she figured.

,—

The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering up a committee of students hand-picked by members of staff. She would be dealing only with seniors since she had learned her lesson about trying to reason with anyone under 18 years old.

They were excused from 7th period and they met up outside, near the football field,a massive structure that could hold crowds of 2-3 thousand, especially if the students gathered on the surrounding track like they often did during the important games. In this case they were at the old picnic tables, scratched with the names of generations of students past and covered by the shade of a mossy oak.

The students chosen were:

Leah Patel, a gifted Indian-American student with cascading brunette hair and a penchant for dresses.

Tony Caccitori, the school’s most popular student, a surprisingly good student, though he’s most well known for being the starting QB since his freshman year,a sure shot to go D1.

Emily Charleston, cheerleader, a bit of an airhead and a bully.

Malik Jones, a regular student who has been in trouble before, but for the most part tends to keep a low profile and get good enough grades to graduate.

They were all sitting there conversing about something or other but the conversation died as soon as the Principal approached.

“Hey Principal Flowners!” Tony yelled, waving wildly. The rest of the group, slightly embarrassed, followed the leader and let out shallow greetings and half-hearted waves.

Principal Flowners smiled back, her beautiful smile being one of her enduring qualities. “Hi, students, sorry for disturbing you in such a crucial time.” It was a warm October day. “But we have been receiving scores from the student classes lately and things haven’t been looking great.” She sat down by Malik and addressed the group. “Our overall school scores are down even though student participation in extra-curricular activities is up.”

“Is that a direct correlation?” asked Leah. “Like are students going to or doing too many things?”

“No, normally those actually trend together because the more involved the students are the more they seem to care about their grades. We are currently unsure what the problem is.”

The students looked at each other. “To be honest,” Tony said, “I have no idea. I’ve been taking care of my stuff and getting good grades, which hasn’t been easy with the college visits.”

“Yeah, I wish I could help Principal Flowners, but I don’t got nothing.”

Finally, it was Emily Charleston who seemed to have a eureka moment. “Wait.” She said even though no one was saying anything. “What if it’s Hablo?”

“Ohh,” Tony said, “Hablo. That makes sense.”

“What’s Hablo?” Principal Flowners asked, happy to finally have a lead.

It was Malik that answered first. “It’s a new social media like TikTok or Instagram except that it kind of monetizes the idea of school popularity. In the same way that college athletes can make extra money by signing up with NIL deals, here popular students can take sponsorship deals and stuff.”

“I hadn’t even heard of this,” Principal Flowners said.

“It came out at the end of the summer to a limited amount of people, but everyone got the chance to send it to two people. I only got it last week,” Leah said.

“Hmmm, so you guys believe this app might be the cause of our distractions and lower performances.”

“Principal Flowners,” Tony said, “If I was a betting man,and I am, I’m on PrizePicks constantly, it’s kind of a problem,I would say it’s Hablo.”

She paused and thought about it. Instagram, TikTok, Vine, all of them had passed through schools and lowered productivity, but never to this extreme. Could this app really be the culprit? She would have to find out for herself. She leaned in a little closer across the scratched picnic table, the mossy oak casting shifting shadows over the group as a light breeze moved through the leaves. “Tell me more about how it works day to day. Do teachers know about it? Are there actual contracts involved, or is it just kids posting for likes and suddenly getting offers? And how much time do you think the average student spends on it between classes or even during them?”

Tony shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s everywhere. Lunch tables, before school, after practice. People film little challenges in the hallways sometimes. Leah here already has a couple of small local brand things for her study tips.”

Leah nodded, a little embarrassed. “Nothing big. Just some stationery and a tutoring site. But yeah, the notifications never stop. It’s designed to keep you checking.”

Emily flipped her hair and added, “And the ranking system is brutal. If your score drops you lose visibility, so everyone stays glued. Even the quiet kids try to post something once in a while so they don’t disappear.”

Malik stayed mostly quiet but finally muttered, “It’s like the whole school is on it and nobody wants to be the one left out.”

Principal Flowners took that in, the weight of their words settling heavier than the warm October air. She thanked them again, more carefully this time, and reminded them to head back before the final bell. The extra details only confirmed what she already feared.

“Thank you all very much,” Principal Flowners said.