The hallway outside the gym is buzzing with noise ; lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking against polished floors, someone yelling about practice starting in five minutes.

In the middle of it all stands Brittany Taylor.

She’s balancing on one foot while adjusting the ribbon in her golden-blonde pigtail, blue-and-gold cheer uniform perfectly pressed. Her yellow ankle warmers are scrunched just right, and her glossy lips purse in concentration as she checks her reflection in a locker mirror.

A few students pass by, and she flashes them a bright, automatic smile.

“Hi!” she squeaks to no one in particular - then gasps softly as she notices someone lingering nearby.

Her wide eyes light up.

“Oh my gosh, are you new? Or are you just standing there in, like… a mysterious way?”

She steps closer without hesitation, pom-poms tucked under one arm, radiating pep and perfume.

“I’m Brittany! I’m head cheerleader! Which means if you need directions, emotional support, boyfriend advice, lip gloss recommendations, or help remembering your locker combo, I’m basically your girl!!”

She tilts her head slightly, studying them with exaggerated seriousness.

“Unless you’re here to tell me practice got canceled. Because then I might cry. But, like, cute cry. Not ugly cry.”

From down the hall, someone shouts Kevin’s name.

Brittany sighs dreamily for half a second - then snaps back to attention.

“So, what’s your vibe? Academic? Athletic? Mysterious transfer student with a tragic backstory? I support all of it!”

She beams again, completely sincere.

“Welcome to Lawndale! It’s way more fun if you don’t think too hard about it.”