The cheer team's locker room pulsed faintly with the sound of hairdryers, casual laughter, and the metallic clatter of locker doors. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed weakly, casting a soft white glare across the cream tiles. The scent of body spray, dried sweat, and vanilla lotion lingered in the air — the familiar aura of girlhood and post-practice adrenaline.
Marin stood by her locker, her arms reaching behind her back as she struggled to unzip the tight-fitting cheer uniform. Her fingers trembled slightly, and she exhaled when the zipper finally gave. The uniform peeled off her body like a second skin, revealing the tank top she had worn underneath and the faint marks the fabric left on her shoulder. She folded the blue and white outfit neatly, almost ritualistically, before slipping into her soft cotton shirt and jeans.
The chatter of the other girls was growing louder now.
"I swear, it's gonna be wild," said a tall girl with glossy black hair as she slipped a hoodie over her sports bra. Her name was Kendra — one of the louder voices in the squad.
"Wait, where's it happening again?" another chimed in, tying her shoelaces on the bench. "Was it the Crown Ridge Hotel? You know, that fancy one with the rooftop lounge?"
"Yeah!" Kendra laughed. "Ben said he's got a guy who can get us into the lounge after dark. Like— no adults. Just music, drinks, and hot boys."
Marin tried to tune it out as she sat on the bench, slipping on her sneakers. She had grown used to these conversations. Always big plans, wild nights, and stories that floated into whispers the next day in class. It wasn't that she didn't want to join — but the safety rules created a barrier around her that was hard to break through. Sometimes she imagined what it would feel like to be free. Just be a girl and not the daughter of Mayor Ronald.
But things were never that simple.
A voice called her name, yanking her out of her thoughts.
"Marin!" Kathie, a bubbly redhead from the squad, leaned over from the next row of lockers with a knowing grin. "You have to come with us this time. We're hitting the Crown Ridge at five. It's gonna be insane."
Marin hesitated, her hands pausing over the zipper of her duffel bag. "I don't know…"
"Oh, come on!" Kathie practically sang. "You never go out unless it's school functions or one of those boring academic clubs. Live a little, girl!"
Marin gave a tight smile but didn't reply. She didn't owe them an explanation — not one they'd understand. The truth sat behind her teeth like a secret grenade: There are rules. Dad's rules to remember and follow.
She nodded faintly and muttered, "I'll think about it."
That seemed enough for Kathie, who clapped her hands like Marin had already agreed.
"You better!" Kathie teased. "Oh— and guess who's coming?"
Marin didn't need to guess. The sparkle in Kathie's eyes told her everything.
"Roy," Kathie whispered, dragging the name out like it was sugar on her tongue. "Yeah. Your Roy."
Marin froze for a second. She felt the heat crawl into her cheeks.
He wasn't her Roy, not really. But she had caught herself glancing too long at him during every classes . The way his dimples broke through when he smirked, the way his long fingers twirled his pen when he was thinking, the way he once helped her with a class project even though they barely talked. He was kindness and chaos rolled into one — and he was going to be there.
Her heart tugged.
But her reality was concrete. Steel bars painted in politeness and "maybe next times." She knew what she was allowed to do — and this wasn't on the list.
Still, she gave Kathie a small nod.
"I'm not sure yet," she said softly. "But... maybe."
"Yesss!" Kathie did a little spin and laughed. "We're meeting at my place before heading out. Five on the dot!"
"Got it."
With that, the girls returned to their previous discussions , buzzing again about lip gloss shades and who was kissing who last Friday night.
Marin zipped her bag shut, slinging it over one shoulder. She adjusted the strap, took one last glance at her locker, and turned toward the exit. The light from the hallway spilled into the locker room through the cracked door like a narrow spotlight.
As she walked toward it, she slowed her pace — voices behind her changed tone. Lower now. Just loud enough to reach her ears.
"She's too uptight," someone muttered.
"Yeah," another added. "I thought being the mayor's daughter came with perks. Like... isn't she supposed to be throwing the parties, not skipping them?"
They giggled. Low and sharp. Like glass scraping against a window.
Marin's steps faltered only slightly. She didn't turn around.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she pushed the door open. The hallway's cold air brushed against her face like a slap.
She could still hear them.
Too uptight. No fun. The mayor's daughter.
As if being the daughter of Ronald Myers made her less human. As if it gave her freedom. If only they knew. If only they saw the rules taped inside her bedroom drawer, the ones their father had them memorize since middle school. A constant reminder that their lives weren't entirely their own.