Pitch perfect cheerleader

Lily had learned how to smile before she learned how to explain why she was sad.

At eight years old, she was already very good at it.

Every morning, she brushed her long blonde hair, put on her cleanest dress, and stood in front of the cracked mirror in her bedroom. She would practise smiling until her cheeks hurt, tilting her head slightly the way girls did in the television shows she watched.Perfect,” she whispered to her reflection.

Then she heard her father shouting downstairs.

Her smile disappeared.

“LILY! WHERE IS MY BREAKFAST?”

She hurried out of her room.

Their little house stood at the end of a narrow street, with peeling paint on the walls and a gate that never closed properly. The roof leaked whenever it rained, and the kitchen cupboard was almost always empty.

Her mother was hardly ever home. She worked long hours, sometimes leaving before Lily woke up and returning after Lily had gone to bed. Lily understood that her mother was  to earn money, but understanding didn't make the loneliness hurt any less.

Her father was different.

When he was in a good mood, he barely noticed her. When he was angry, the entire house seemed to shrink around him.

That morning, he was angry.

“I asked you a simple question!“I asked you a simple question!” he snapped.

“I—I didn't know you wanted breakfast, Daddy.”

He looked at her as though she'd deliberately disappointed him.

“Useless girl.”

Lily lowered her eyes.

She had learned that arguing made things worse. She had learned to walk quietly, close doors gently, and recognise the sound of her father's footsteps before he even entered a room.

Most importantly, she had learned never to cry where he could see her.By the time she left the house, her eyes were burning, but she refused to let the tears fall.

She walked down the street with her schoolbag hanging from one shoulder. Other children passed her, laughing and chasing one another. Two little girls were sharing a packet of biscuits, arguing over who had eaten more.

Lily watched them for a moment.

She wondered what it felt like to have someone to argue with about biscuits.

Someone who would still be there afterwards.

She kicked a small stone along the pavement.

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself. “Why am I even thinking about that?”

She wasn't supposed to feel sorry for herself. Her father always reminded her how much she cost him, and her mother was too tired to listen to her problems.So Lily did what she always did.

She smiled.

Even when nobody was lThat afternoon, Lily came home from school to find the house empty.

Her father had gone out, and her mother had left a short note on the kitchen table.

There's food in the pot. I'll be home late. Love you.

Lily read it twice.

Then she folded it carefully and placed it inside a little box where she kept the things that made her happy: an old birthday card, a broken hair clip, and a photograph of herself with her mother from when she was younger.

She ate alone.

Afterwards, she sat beside the window, watching the neighbourhood.Lily immediately ducked below the window.

“Oh my goodness,” she whispered. “He saw me.”

She waited a few seconds before peeking out again.

He was still there.

This time, he smiled.

Lily quickly disappeared from the window.

She didn't know why her heart was beating so fast. It wasn't as though she'd done anything wrong. He was just a boy.

A boy who happened to have seen her watching him like a complete weirdo.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

But when she looked outside again, he was sitting on the low wall between their houses, tossing a little rubber ball into the air.

Lily watched him for several minutes.

Finally, she got up.And as the evening breeze carried the sound of children playing through the neighbourhood, Lily discovered something she had almost forgotten was possible.

She could be unhappy at home and still find happiness somewhere else.

She could be afraid and still feel safe with someone.

She could be Lily without pretending to be perfect.

For the first time in her life, she had a friend she could talk to about the things that hurt.

And that night, when Lily stood in front of her cracked mirror, she smiled at her reflection.

Not because she was trying to be perfect.

But because, for once, she was genuinely happy.