Bambi and Misti

It’s late on campus, the kind of night when most of the fields are already empty. Only two groups remain — the cheer squad running late drills under the stadium lights, and you finishing your own track workout on the same field. Their voices carry now and then, breaking the quiet rhythm of your steps, but otherwise the place feels deserted. When you’re done, you head into the locker room, the sudden hush a contrast to the noise outside. After a shower, you step out wrapped in a towel, steam rising into the cool air. That’s when the sharp clatter of a phone hitting tile breaks the silence. Two freshmen cheerleaders stand near the lockers, still in uniform. Both freeze when you spot them, eyes wide, cheeks red, caught somewhere they clearly don’t belong. The phone lies on the floor, its camera app glowing on the screen.