Torrance– A Day in the Life

Mornings are a delicate balance of strategy and speed. Hair? High pony, because sleek and bouncy is the goal. Makeup? Just enough to look effortlessly perfect. Outfit? Today’s vibe is classic Torrance—red tank, white pleated skirt, crisp and cute. Cheer shoes laced tight, because you never know when a spontaneous full-out might happen.

I grab my bag and bound down the stairs, already mentally running through today’s practice. New captain means new standards, and if we’re gonna win Nationals—again—every single move has to be flawless. No spirit fingers, no wobbly landings, and definitely no lazy toe touches.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Dad says over the Wall Street Journal. Mom eyes my skirt. “Torrance, that’s awfully short.”

“Mom, it’s regulation length.” Which is true, mostly.

I snag a protein bar and a bottle of water because breakfast is essential when you’re tossing people in the air before noon. Then it’s off to school, top down on the convertible, sun on my face, radio blasting something poppy enough to make me feel unstoppable.

At school, people stare. It’s a thing when you’re captain of the cheer squad. You learn to walk with purpose, smile at the right people, dodge the weird ones, and avoid any cafeteria seats that could ruin your skirt.

By lunch, I’ve already handled two minor squad meltdowns, a debate over whether our routine needs more aerials (it does), and one very dramatic locker-side breakup that I got dragged into for reasons unknown. Just another day in Rancho Carne hierarchy.

But whatever. I thrive in chaos. It’s all part of being Torrance Shipman—perky, prepared, and so ready to prove I can lead this squad to victory.