Page 29 of Wonderstruck

But Finn wasn’t Ryan. He was… complicated. Kind. The sort of person whodidn’t just know how to hold you when you were breaking but made you feel like maybe you wouldn’t break at all.

And that was the problem.

Because even though my brain knew better—knew how badly I’d been hurt before—my heart didn’t seem to care. It beat traitorously fast at the sight of him, and the hope I’d tried so hard to bury since last year, the hope I saw vanish completely last week, clawed its way back up. He’d rejected me, and yet here I was, still unable to stop liking him. Still unable to stop hoping.

I stared down at him from the bleachers,my eyes flickering between Finn andRyan, trying to remind myself of all the reasons being here was a bad idea.

“Rory?” Goldie’s voice broke through my spiral. I blinked, realising I’d beengripping the popcorn tub so hard it was dented.

Her gaze dropped to the empty container,and she raised an eyebrow, a teasingsmirk playing on her lips. “When did ‘can I have some popcorn’ turn into ‘I’m going to eat the entire thing?’”

“Oh.” I looked down at the tub, guilt swimming alongside the buttery kernelsin my stomach. “Oops.”

Goldie laughed, light and unbothered, but I scrambled to save face, my cheeksburning. “You know, I suddenly have a really strong urge to go get more popcorn,” I said, already standing. “Want anything?”

She stuck her tongue out at me, clearly amused, and waved me off.

Clutching the empty tub like a shield, I made my way to the concession stand,grateful for the excuse to escape. My thoughts were spinning too fast to sit still. For once, I was actually glad the line at the concession stand stretched so longit nearly wrapped around the corner. It gave me space to breathe and untangle my messy thoughts without feeling like the rink’s chaos was closing in on me. I stared at the popcorn menu, trying to convince myself that caramel corn could solve at least half of my problems when something bumped into me.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

I turned to see a familiar face. Bindi,mine and Cora’s old dorm neighbour fromlast year. Her sleek bob was tied into low pigtails, gold ribbons tying them off, and the green and white cheerleading uniform she wore sparkled against her glowing mocha skin.

“Rory!” she said, her smile instantlybrightening.

“Bindi! Hi!” I grinned back, taking in how effortlessly polished she alwayslooked. “How are you?"

Her smile faltered, just for a second. “Oh, you know. It’s day—what? Four?Five of the season? And I’m already drowning.” She laughed lightly, her pleated skirt swishing as she shifted nervously, and even her laugh didn’t quite hide how frazzled she seemed.

I tilted my head, softening my voice. “Is everything okay?”

She tried smiling once more, but soon enough she sighed, and the tension in her shoulders sagged. “No, not really. A bunchof girls on the squad just quit—like, out of nowhere. I get it; school’s hard this year, and keeping up with cheer isn’t easy. But now we’re down to four people. Four! That’s not a squad—it’s a disaster. And if we can’t fix this, I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen to my scholarship.”

My heart squeezed. Cheerleading was Bindi’s life. I remembered her talkingabout it last year when we passed each other in thehallways—how much the scholarship meant to her, how it was her only way to stay at Liberty. I glanced over her shoulder at the rink, where three cheerleaders danced as big and energetically as they could, trying to fill the emptiness on their stage.

“Are you having tryouts?” I asked, keeping my voice light but knowing theanswer already.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s like suddenly no one wants to cheeranymore. It’s so frustrating. But!” Her tone brightened a little. “Coach Burton and our Coach had a meeting with Dean Sommerford this afternoon and managed to work something out. They’re making it a paid position now, because they know it’ll take time away from studies, so why not make it worth their while? And it’s great for resumes, so we’re hoping that will reel a few people in.”

Her words barely had time to settlebefore a little flicker of an idea sparked inmy head.

A paid position. Actual money.

Consider me reeled.

“I’ll do it.” The words tumbled out of my mouthbefore I could stop them, before I could think, and Bindi’s wide-eyed expression matched the flutter of hope in my chest.

“Wait… what? Really?” she asked, hervoice somewhere between disbelief and hope.

I nodded, though my stomach twisted itself into knots. “I mean, I’ve nevercheered before—like, ever—but I can learn. I did a few ballet classes when I was in sixth grade. If you’re desperate, and if it helps you keep your scholarship, then… yeah. Why not?”

“Are you serious?” Her voice pitchedhigher as her hands flew to her cheeks.“Oh my gosh, Rory, that would be amazing!”

“I—I don’t know how amazingI’llbe,” Istammered, a nervous laugh slipping out. “I’m not exactly what you’d call coordinated.”

Her laugh sounded like a sigh of relief. “Trust me, if you can clap and yell, thenyou’re perfect,” Bindi said, practically bouncing in place.

I smiled nervously, my mind already spinning at the thought of standing infront of a crowd. In that outfit. With pom-poms that practically screamed,“Look at me and my ridiculously short skirt!”.Maybe if I squinted really hard, I could pretend the stands weren’t full of people.

---