Pinkie Promise (Carter Ridge Book 1)
Pinkie Promise: Prologue

No fall is too high to get back up from. That was the advice that my high school cheer coach gave me back when I was a junior. My parents didn’t grant me endless hours of freedom for my one afterschool extracurricular so my coach knew that, for me to keep the top of our pyramid shining, we had to practice fast and thorough if we were going to make it to the junior league nationals.

For me though, it wasn’t just about the junior league nationals.

It was about securing the top score at nationals so that the colleges which bestowed sports grants to the athletes who could help take their cheer squads to the annual American Elite tournament would give me one simple look and say, that’s the girl for us.

Because whether or not my parents were Olympic champions still rolling in the spoils of international success, they made sure that their daughters would learn life the hard way.

In plain terms: if I didn’t get a sport scholarship, I wasn’t going to college.

My sisters had already managed the feat so I knew that it was doable, even if their sports of choice weren’t exactly the same as mine, but it wasn’t sibling rivalry or competitiveness that drove me to physically need that college grant.

It was the fact that there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to stay at home with my parents.

After spending my childhood being the perfect daughter only to realise that I was never going be good enough for them, I took matters into my own hands and decided to get my praise from another avenue instead.

A+. A+. A+.

100%. 100%. 100%.

Books taught me every joy that my parents never did and that’s why I have no intentions of leaving academia yet – as long as I can retain my funding and keep my place at Carter U, one of the best colleges in the U.S. for Division I athletes, set in the heart of Carter Ridge.

An undulation below my feet instantly brings me back to the present.

I glance hesitantly down, my composure slipping as the cheer basket beneath me starts to ripple slightly.

I have always been confident in my ability to perform. It’s other people that I know not to trust.

If there’s one thing that I’m grateful for where my parents are concerned, it’s that they taught me that self-sufficiency is the key to success. Motivating yourself to be the best at whatever it is that you’re doing means that you will never have to rely on other people to pick up your slack, and you’re never disappointed when they don’t meet your level anyway.

But that’s not exactly why I’ve instilled that advice so deeply into my soul.

For me, I refuse to rely on someone – to let them in – and then have the rug ripped from under my feet.

If you never let anyone good in, then you’ll never have to go through the pain of losing them.

And if my own parents didn’t want to be there for me, why on earth would anyone else?

It’s the first week of my year as a college senior and the cheer team tryouts came and went three days ago, meaning that we now have a number of new girls currently getting to grips with our pre-American Elite regimen. But if the girl gripping my right ankle doesn’t lock her arms in the next two seconds, we are very much about to topple the hell over.

“Blair?” I say warningly, because obviously I remembered Wobbly Arms’ name. She’s a freshman who should definitely not have made the team but we all know who her father is so she got a place regardless. “Um, Blair, please could you maybe–?”

In the next second we’re all screaming as Blair completely releases my leg and shoots away from the inevitable fallout. My body tilts to the side and, just before my left foot is yanked out of the socket, my roommate Aisling O’Malley shoots over from where she’s watching us and shoves me back into position so that we don’t end up in a heap on the floor.

The three girls that are now holding my legs re-stabilise my position and, after a shaky inhalation, I plaster an American Elite smile on my face, kick one leg up at a one-hundred-and-eighty degree angle, and throw my arms out wide as the routine finishes.

Aisling is our team’s captain and coordinator, so she puts on a brave face as we regroup on the plush red cheer mats.

“Okay, that wasn’t so bad,” she says to the room, her ponytail swishing in full-on cheer mode. “But, uh…” She flashes me an I am so sorry look before saying, “We need to do the double pyramid before the practice is out, so…”

I shoot a hasty glance over to Blair who is carefully avoiding my eyes, and then I focus on my sparkly manicure until I can get a one-on-one moment with Aisling.

“Ash,” I hiss, as the rest of the girls rearrange themselves further back on the mats, getting into their starting positions. Seeing as there are so many of us on the comp team we’re using the stunning white gymnastic suite, whereas the separate cheer events squad tends to use the spaces at the Carter U gym.

Without me needing to explain anything Aisling rests a hand on my arm and says, “Fallon, I know, I’m going to talk to her dad. But we can’t have them cut our funding otherwise we won’t be able to go to Elite next year and…”

And if we don’t go to Elite then I won’t be able to get the sports grant to fund my Master’s.

I nod in understanding and give her one of my crazy cheer smiles, making a laugh burst out of her as she elbows my waist.

“We just need to survive a couple more sessions with her,” she says easily as we make our way to the rest of the girls. “You can do this, Fallon. You’ve gone through worse.”

We share a secret look of support and solidarity sparkles in my chest.

Aisling is the only girl who I’ve gotten close to since starting Carter U and our bond is based on similar childhood distrust. The O’Malleys are one of the richest real estate families in the entire country, meaning that Aisling’s formative years were full of the anxiety of not knowing whether someone really liked her for her, or if they were using her for money and status.

The song that we’ve had blaring on loop starts up again and I re-tie my ponytail, getting myself in the mood.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

I cartwheel my way into my start position in order to get my inner-rhythm flowing, and when I get to my spot in front of Blair I give her a cheery you’ve got this smile, even though I don’t quite believe it myself.

Regardless of the hurt that I experienced as a semi-pro child athlete with ruthless Olympian parents, I’m not a hater. If Blair wants to be on the comp team, and especially if she’s going to be one of the girls keeping me suspended in the air, then I’m going to give her all of the support that I never had when I was starting out.

Even if I would secretly much prefer it if she wasn’t one of the girls holding onto my ankles.

She gives me a wobbly smile in return, which is not exactly reassuring, but I swish around without delay and we start up our routine again.

At the second chorus, when the tempo has drowned out all of the thoughts in my brain apart from what my next move is about to be, I’m tossed back onto the higher pyramid, so that Blair and Whitney can secure my ankles.

Or at least they’re supposed to secure my ankles, but Blair is having trouble maintaining her own balance as it is.

There are three pyramids in our formation and ours is the only one that’s starting to go sideways.

“Blair?” I shout again as I feel her fingers clamouring desperately around one of my cheer socks.

It’s funny what you focus on when the world slows down in front of you.

We haven’t got this year’s competition outfits yet because we knew that we would have a couple of new girls on the team, and we need everyone’s measurements before we send off for the pieces. Being in charge of everything, Ash already knows what colours we’re having this year, but one of my favourite things about being a cheerleader has always been getting my new bow.

For two years in a row we wore our Carter U colours – a stand-out blue, with red and white accents – and today for practice I decided to wear that particular comp outfit, so that the new girls could get a feel for how things tend to start looking when tournament season is upon us.

So now, as Blair’s slippery hands grapple desperately around my ankle, all that I can think about is how much I enjoyed wearing this particular outfit at that particular tournament. The sock goes to just beneath my knee and the body of it is blue, with red and white sparkling diamantes wrapped around the rim in two thick stripes.

It’s a shame that it’s about to be ripped clean off my body.

I know that there’s no way that Blair is going to catch me after they shove me into the highest flip in our entire routine, but I do the flip anyway because this is what I’ve been trained to do. I tuck and spin before landing back in Whitney’s awaiting hands, but Blair’s hands?

They’re nowhere to be seen.

“Blair!” I scream, shooting my arms out as I try to regain my balance, but as I look down into her eyes it’s way too late.

I’m already falling.

Whitney screams a second later because, although Whitney is strong, she’s not strong enough to keep me from falling all on her own, and in a matter of moments my leg shoots straight past the place where Blair’s hands were supposed to be, gravity yanks me down, and after less than three beats the world goes black.