The slab of steel slams down as Randy, one of the freshman running backs on the Riverside football team, lets the barbell drop to the rack above his head. He sits up from the bench, nearly out of breath. He's a rather scrawny guy with arms the size of a young girl's. Probably why he's so desperate to build muscle.

He glances over at Cesar, who sits on a bench across from him as he swaps the dumbbell from his left to right hand. He presses his elbow against his thigh as he gradually lifts the weight up and down. Headphones are buried into his ears as he listens to heavy metal music.

The fitness center they are in is extremely modern with its fairly new workout equipment and televisions mounted on nearly every corner of the ceiling. Behind Randy is a railing that overlooks the first floor, which has an even larger array of equipment to choose from.

"Man, this sucks." Randy says, using the collar of his shirt to dab at the sweat on his upper lip.

Cesar, barely able to hear him, glances up. "What?"

"Dude, it's been almost three weeks since that girl's death and they still won't let us use the school's workout room." He grunts as he flexes his arms out, as if to stretch his near non-existent muscles. "At least not after hours. Even on practice nights!"

"That girl had a name." Surprisingly, Cesar defends her memory. "Julia."

"Whatever." Randy sneers. "I just can't wait 'til we get our gym back. Don't get me wrong though, this workout room is freaking awesome. How much do your parents pay for these apartments?"

Cesar ignores him, turning up the volume on the music playing from his phone. He pushes the headphones in deeper and switches the dumbbell to the other hand.

The cheerleaders claim their usual spot in the football field near the first set of bleachers across from the school's gym. Some drink water while others pack up their belongings as practice wraps up.

Taylor's car quickly cuts through the parking lot, the engine screeching dramatically, as she comes to a stop on the other side of the bleachers. The cheerleaders nosily peek through the stands, watching as the passenger door opens. Paige places her hand on her hip and rolls her eyes.

Casey quickly unfastens her seatbelt and climbs out of the car as the ear-piercing screech begins to fade out. "Thank god we made it in once piece."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Taylor laughs. "Don't forget your bag."

As Casey leans down to grab her gym bag from the floorboard, she glances up at Taylor. "Tay, you need a new car."

"Yeah, and I need money first."

"Touché." Casey nods as she pulls herself out and shuts the door. She leans in through the window. "Well, thanks for the ride."

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" Taylor glances at the field. "I mean, practice isn't the world."

"Yeah, I know. I don't think Queen Bee got that memo though." Casey rolls her eyes, sighing. "It's just, well, once things get back to normal I think I'll feel better."

Taylor shoots her a comforting smile. "Well, if you need anything—"

"I know." Casey smiles back. "That's why you're my best bitch."

Taylor laughs. That's always been Casey's way of referring to Taylor as her best friend. Something she randomly came up with years ago in a drunken haze when they were freshman and went to their first high school party. "See you in class."

"See ya." Casey backs up, slinging the strap of her gym bag over her shoulder as she turns to walk toward the bleachers.

Taylor's car begins to screech again as she accelerates, turning the vehicle back around. She wraps around the corner of the building and finds a parking spot in the middle of the lot near the front entrance. After pulling into it and putting the car in park, she glances down at her watch and realizes that she's still got a few minutes until class begins.

"Well, well, well." Paige snickers. "Look who finally decides to show up to a practice. And late, at that. Here I was thinking maybe you ditched the team."

Casey rolls her eyes as she walks past the bleachers to approach the squad. "You know why I haven't been to practice."

"No, I don't." She replies coldly. "And, to be honest, I really couldn't care less. Anyways girls, before you go I need you all to line up. We need to—"

"Are you serious?" Casey, staring at her unbelievably, interrupts her as she steps forward. "Do I really need to remind you? A girl died. One of our friends. We found her body. And you're just going to parade around here like nothing ever happened?!"

An instigating smirk wipes across Paige's face as she slowly walks up to Casey, letting out an annoyed sigh. She's making it obvious that she doesn't give a shit. Or is trying hard not to. "Sweetie, let me tell you a fun little fact about life. It goes on."

"Yeah?" Casey looks around at her fellow cheerleaders, finding it hard to believe that than can put up with this. They all glance back-and-forth between Casey and Paige, as if not sure whose side to choose. Like it is really that hard of a decision. "Well, for Julia it didn't."

"Look, if this is going to be a distraction for you, then I suggest you go back to that little whore you call a friend and run along." Paige spins around to face the squad.

"What did you say?"

Calmly, Paige turns back to Casey and lightly places her index finger to her chin, acting like she has to think about it. "Umm, the distraction part? Or the Taylor is a whore part?"

And—just like that—Casey gives in to an urge she has been resisting for months now. Her fist swings into Paige's face, sending her tumbling backwards into the bleachers. The cheerleaders gasp and shuffle out of the way as Casey stomps past them to approach Paige, digging in her gym bag.

Shocked, Paige lightly dabs at her lip to see she is bleeding. She struggles to push herself up from between two of the benches and falls back down.

"If I so much as even hear a peep of you talking about Taylor, your next period will be coming out of your nose." Casey tosses the pom-poms in her face. "I quit."

Paige lets out a frustrated grunt and tosses the pom-poms aside as Casey struts away. Kira immediately steps forward, offering her a helping hand, and Paige rudely slaps it away. "Back off! I'm fine!"

The cheerleaders stare at Casey, not in spite but with praise, as she casually walks past the bleachers toward the school's building. She rubs her bruised knuckles, trying to play it off, and mumbles to herself. "Shit, that hurt."

♫ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ᴏɴ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ / ᴊᴇᴛ ♫