Cheerleader

She knows how it looks. Following the boys to every one of their games. Keeping track of various statistics for them. Dropping everything to spend a Tuesday or a Thursday evening at another campus, not even drinking while everyone else does. It looks a little bit pathetic, a little bit like she might be in love with one of them. And even if she is, so what? It beats the alternative.

The League was established by some guys a couple of campuses over, and her friends were quick to sign up. They dubbed themselves Team Holy, and she immediately signed on as their first cheerleader. Or maybe she's a groupie? Keeping score makes her feel useful  at least. But she's still devoting two nights a week to watching her friends play beer pong, mostly against people she's never met before.

It actually doesn't seem weird until she steps back a bit. Since coming to college, beer pong has been at the center of most of her social life. The rules are simple, the games are fun, and there's a lot of beer involved. What could be better than that? There are certainly a lot of things that could be worse. So even when she's not actively participating, she's happy to hang out. It's how she spends most of her free time anyway, and it gets her out of her toxic room for a few hours, lets her relax with her friends.

She's not even entirely sure how the league works. It's not exactly like a basketball bracket, because teams aren't getting eliminated yet. Team Holy is assigned games against other teams, seemingly at random. She knows that someone is in charge of everything. Who plays who and when. Who won, who lost. The statistics she records are more detailed: bring backs, bounces, blocks. She's proud that her friend is one of the best blockers in the league. No one can bounce a ball past him.

At some point there will be a tournament. The standings will determine how everyone is slotted into a bracket, and, after a booze-soaked evening, a grand champion will be declared. She doesn't want that night to come. It will mean the end of these games. The end of this easy excuse to get her out of her room and away from the drama.

So she'll gladly play the cheerleader. She'll put her energy into supporting the friends who have given her an excuse to get away from her roommates and off campus for an hour. She'll mark down the score, she'll joke about being a groupie. She'll wonder, briefly, if they think her hanging-on is as weird as other people do. But then she'll cheer at another great shot and allow herself this brief escape.