THREE
SERENA
CHASE:Got time for a quick lunch at Hank’s? I’m buying.
SERENA:Sure, as long as you promise not to steal my fries.
CHASE:I don’t make promises I can’t keep.
SERENA:Then I’m ordering onion rings too.
CHASE:Wouldn’t expect anything less.
I throw my truck into park outside the stadium and check my YouTube channel. I only uploaded my weather report for the day an hour ago, but a girl can dream of going viral, right? I laugh at the icon that tells me it’s been viewed by four people. Make that five, I think, as the video starts to play and my voice echoes around the truck’s cabin.
“So leave your umbrellas at home but grab a sweater if you’re heading out this evening. Midday might feel warm, but those early mornings and late afternoons are starting to carry a bite. Don’t forget to drop your weather questions in the comments!Yesterday six-year-old Ruby from Idaho Springs asked, ‘When will it snow?’
“Well, Ruby, great question. We’ve already seen the first snowflakes in the high Rockies, but for Idaho Springs and Denver we’re not quite there yet. Denver doesn’t usually see its first measurable snow until later in October. Right now, there aren’t any big cold fronts dipping down from Canada, so I think we’ve got a few more weeks of fall sunshine to enjoy. But keep those snow boots handy. Halloween onwards is prime time for our first real snowstorm.”
I’m just about to tuck my phone into my bag when my big sister’s name flashes on my screen.
“Elle, I thought you’d be doing carpool by now,” I say by way of hello as I swipe to answer.
“We are,” she replies. “You’re on speaker. Say hi to Auntie Serena.”
There’s a chorus of shouts from my two nieces. I imagine them in the back seats on their way to school. Ruby is so smart already. Her little sister, Grace, is four and the same. Both of them can already do two back-to-back cartwheels. My chest warms at the sound of their voices and the love I have for these three gorgeous humans.
“Just calling to say Ruby loved the video. Thank you.”
My smile widens as I climb out my truck. “She’s my biggest fan. It’s only her and Chase who ask any questions and, believe me, the questions from a six-year-old are far more mature than Chase’s. Last week he asked, ‘If clouds are full of water, why don’t they just fall out of the sky like giant water balloons?’”
Elle laughs. “Love that man.”
I picture Elle in her minivan. She has the same sun-streaked blonde hair we both inherited from Mom. Elle’s is cut short, and she has laugh lines deepened by two kids, exhausted, and exactly where she wants to be.
“How’s the hunt for a new roommate going?” she asks.
I make a face Elle can’t see as I head toward the cheer office at the back of the Stormhawks stadium, tucking the bag of bagels under one arm. “I’ve not started looking. Liv isn’t getting married until March, and she’s not moving in with Jensen until the new year. I’ve got time.” The truth is, Liv and I have been living together for nearly seven years and the thought of starting again with someone new feels impossible.
“Serena.” Elle drags out my name. I can imagine her fixing me with the same look Mom used to give when she knew one of us was hiding something.
“I know.” I sigh. “I’m going to look, it’s just hard to imagine finding anyone who can replace Liv.”
“And—”
“And it’s not like I thought we’d be roommates forever, but I guess I thought that when it ended, we’d be moving on with our lives. Except I’m not, am I? I’m still at square one. The same place I’ve always been.”
“Serena! How can you say that? You have an amazing life. You’re a cheer coach for the Stormhawks. You live in a super cool loft apartment. You’re best friends with the quarterback, and one day soon the whole of Colorado is going to realize you’re the best person to get their weather from, and you’re going to have millions of subscribers, and be even cooler than you already are. And then one of those gorgeous football players is going to sweep you off your feet and treat you like the queen you are.”
I can’t help but smile at my sister’s pep talk and her unwavering, if not unfounded, optimism for what my future will look like. I’m about to reply when there’s a noise in the background, followed by Elle’s exasperated voice. “Oh my God, Grace, why is Mr. Pickles in your school bag? How many times do I have to say this? You cannot take a cat to school with you. Gotta go, S. Call you later.”
I’m still smiling as I make my way through the empty halls, my footsteps echoing on the concrete floors. The stadium is always quiet following a game. The corridors smell faintly of sweat and cleaning products. I pass the row of coaching offices—spacious rooms with digital whiteboards of cluttered plays and support staff already bent over laptops. At least I rarely have to worry about bumping into Ryan down here. He and the rest of management sit in spacious glass offices perched at the top of the stadium with views of the field.
When I step into our cramped cheer office, our head coach, Tanya, is already at her desk in the corner, phone pressed to her ear. “On hold with the network,” she says quietly. “They cut to commercial last night before the end of the routine.”
Tanya reminds me of Mama Sullivan. The firm, take-no-shit way she approaches everything. Except without Mama’s warmth. Tanya is in her fifties. Five foot nothing with narrow eyes and faded red hair. She’s been head coach since I joined the cheer squad at eighteen. She used to terrify me, but over the years that terror has morphed into a deep respect. Tanya has to make tough decisions when it comes to choosing the squad from hundreds of applicants come tryout time. Beneath it all is a furious passion for cheering and making sure her girls are the best in the league.
I head to the whiteboard and grab a cloth to wipe away the choreography from last night’s routine. When it’s back-to-back home games the choreography has to be turned around fast so the squad have time to learn it, but our next home game isn’t until week seven, giving us a long lead time to develop and deliver a truly amazing routine. By the way Liv bursts through the door, brandishing a cardboard tray of coffees, a pack of board pens, and a broad smile, I know that she’s as excited about the new routine as me. Her midnight black hair shines as brightly as her eyes as she strides toward me.