“The wolves really landed a big one this time.” Mrs. Fernandez said as she adjusted the clipboard underneath her armpit.
She was the Cheer coach, a woman in her late thirties with short brown hair that fell loosely to her shoulders, a pointy nose, and a sharp jawline.
The late afternoon sun hung low over RavenHurst University’s athletic field; practice carried on around it, footballs cut through the air, and whistles shrilled.
Laughter drifted from the cheerleaders rehearsing their routine near the track.
Along the sidelines, Mrs. Fernandez stood, her posture rigid as she spoke to the two football coaches.
Coach Chase Daniels, barely out of his mid-twenties with a lean, athletic build that still carried the easy confidence of a recent college player.
His tousled sandy-blond hair made him look younger, not older.
His sharp jawline and quick smile, which usually put people at ease, had earned him a good reputation across campus.
And a pair of sunglasses rested atop his head.
Beside him stood Mr. Luke Connor, in his early forties, with the solid frame of a former linebacker and his salt-and-pepper hair cropped short.
His face was etched with the calm confidence of someone who had spent years managing teenagers and had seen too many seasons of pressure.
He possessed the kind of steady presence that made players straighten their backs when he entered a room.
His sharp eyes missed very little even as he spoke.
They were discussing the new sponsorships the RavenHurst Wolves had landed from Thunderbolt Athletics, a company known for its high-end performance gear, from cleats to compression wear designed to handle the brutal demands of football.
And Fuel Forge Supplement, a sports nutrition company, wasn’t some small local brand.
Their products were everywhere, from energy drinks and protein supplements to recovery gear used by collegiate athletes across the country.
A grin spread across Chase’s face.
“It’s really a big one for the wolves. But Thunderbolts Athletics is requiring a promotional campaign.”
Mrs. Fernandez’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Chase continued.
“Posters, promotional shoot, social media content, video ads. That sort of thing.”
Mrs. Fernandez tucked a free hand into her pocket.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Chase laughed.
“It’s huge.”
Luke glanced toward the football players running drills.
“The university is thrilled about the deals. They want us to do it so well.”
“And Thunderbolts also required the cheerleading team to pair with the chosen player for maximum visual impact,” Chase added.
That interested Mrs Fernandez more than the deal news.
A wide smile spread across her face.
“Finally, a spotlight for my girls.”
“Just one,” Mr. Luke said.
Mrs Fernandez’s smile faded slightly.
“Just one?” She asked, brows lifting.
“One,” Chase confirmed.
“Why one? My girls have been working so hard, and all we get is one representative on a big deal while you get to select as many players as—”
“Player,” Chase corrected.
This time, the smile faded completely, replaced by a deep frown.
“Just one?”
Mr. Luke shook his head.
“Liam Douglas.”
“As always.” Mrs Fernandez huffed.
That made sense.
Liam was the face of RavenHurst football.
Mrs Fernandez reached for the clipboard beneath her armpit.
The answer came so quickly that both men exchanged a look.
A small one.
Barely noticeable.
But noticeable.
And Mrs. Fernandez caught it immediately.
“What?” She asked
Mr Luke shifted his weight and cleared his throat.
“The strategy’s a little different this time.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Chase shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Thunderbolts wants a fresh face.”
Mrs. Fernandez scoffed.
“A fresh face won’t sell anything.”
“They specifically requested someone who’s trending. Gets the socials buzzing before the season even kicks off.”
“Then that still points to Isoldea.” She gestured toward the cheerleaders practicing nearby.
“No one on this team has more influence than Isoldea. She’s an entire package. Consistent and polished.”
Isoldea, cheer captain, practically lived on social media.
She has brand deals, thousands of followers on Textagram, and millions of engagement—she’s truly an entire package.
“Ordinarily, I’d agree.” Chase pulled out his phone, thumb scrolling the screen.
“But according to the school blogs, discussion boards, student feeds, and the latest trends, there’s someone who could match her numbers or even surpass her right now.” He said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Mrs. Fernandez blinked.
“Who would that be?”
Neither coach answered.
Instead, they looked across the field, their gaze landing on the cluster of cheerleaders practicing their routines not far away.
Following their line of sight, her eyes settled on Isla, who was at the back of the line, moving through the formations with steady precision and a distant expression.
Mrs. Fernandez immediately looked back at them.
“Isla?”
“Yes, Isla,” Luke confirmed.
Mrs Fernandez let out a short laugh that didn’t even reach her eyes.
“She’s barely been here a week. She has no influence that helps us. Didn’t you say this is a huge deal?”
The coaches nodded.
“So this isn’t the time for experiments.” Mrs Fernandez added.
“We know she has no influence. But she has been trending for days now.” Chase held up his phone.
Mrs. Fernandez looked at it.
The screen showed a flurry of posts; the hallway interaction between Isla and Liam was captured in clear and blurry videos.
Some had even been edited with AI.
Shorts of Isla with glowing red horns, flames bursting from her eyes, ears, and mouth overloaded with bold text:
“I HATE THE QB.”
“STAY AWAY FROM ME QB.”
Mrs Fernandez groaned.
“What’s this nonsense?”
Post after post of the conversation filled the screen; comments flooded in about their archenemy dynamic, multiple shares, and memes.
One particularly ridiculous image showed Isla standing opposite Liam on a mountain, an axe in her hand, pointed into the sky while dramatic lightning cracked between them.
Bold text was written above their heads.
“ARCHENEMIES OF RAVENHURST.”
And the likes?
Absurd.
“She’s the gold right now,” Chase added.
Mrs. Fernandez waved it off, her voice tightening.
“It’s nothing serious. Just a silly spat. We don’t build promotions on drama.”
“We need the drama.” Mr Luke said, itching the bridge of his nose.
“Cause it’s internet engagement worthy.”
Mrs Fernandez opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.
“This trend won’t last.”
“Maybe not, but Thunderbolts wants attention. And they requested the person generating the most conversation on campus.”
“But—”
Mr Luke interrupted her.
“It’s Isla or no one. The sponsors have seen the clips of her and Liam. They want that energy.” His tone left no room for debate.
A long silence followed.
A heavy sigh escaped Mrs Fernandez.
Defeat settled into her shoulders as she nodded, sharp and reluctant.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this.
Chase smiled.
“That sounds promising.”
She shot him a glare.
“Fine.”
Victory flashed briefly across both coaches’ faces.
Chase cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to Liam on the field where the quarterback was wrapping up drills.
Across the turf, Liam looked up from practice.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Fernandez turned away, walking toward the cheerleaders already composing the announcement in her head.
The girls clustered together as she gathered them.
“Coach, are we done already?” Isoldea asked.
“No,” Mrs. Fernandez announced.
“We have sponsorship news.”
“A sponsorship?” someone squealed.
Mrs. Fernandez nodded.
“Thunderbolts Athletics.”
The reaction was instant.
The girls’ faces lit up at the news.
Even Isla looked up from where she’d been absentmindedly rubbing her sore wrist.
A sponsorship meant money.
Resources.
Visibility.
Opportunities.
And everybody knew it.
Excited giggles grew louder as the coaches approached, Liam trailing behind them.
Several girls straightened visibly and tried to fix their hair.
Some exchanged excited looks.
Jonna leaned toward Isla.
“I swear, half this team just wants to fuck him. Look at them.” She nudged her head towards the girls in front of them, who were adjusting their skirts to make them shorter.
Isla snorted, not saying a word.