We practiced for hours.
The sound of sneakers hitting the floor, the loud noise coming from the coaches' whistles, and the squeak of the mats filled the air.
I tried to focus on the routine, but my mind wasn’t here. It was with Scott.
Every jump, every spin, every move—I kept thinking of his face at the ceremony. The way he looked.
Shock and utter disbelief.
Why did he have to make me feel like I had done something wrong?
“Focus, Sienna!” Coach barked.
I blinked, realizing I had missed my turn. Harper gave me a quick nudge. “Girl, are you okay? You’ve been zoning out since we started.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile.
“No, you’re not. You’ve been quiet since morning,” she whispered back, pretending to adjust her pom-poms. “If this is about Scott, you need to stop worrying.
