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War. Kelsey was thinking of Peter. This was such a small, silly version of “war.” She took a large sip of her rum and Coke.

Kelsey was wearing a Jayhawks jersey she had belted into a dress. She joined in the fight song, clapping at the right parts.

A girl all in blue, her black hair in a bundle of braids, set her drink next to Kelsey’s. At a second glance, Kelsey noticed the words emblazoned on her warm-up jacket.

“Excuse me,” Kelsey said, raising her voice above the din.

The girl turned, revealing brown eyes and polished lips.

“Are you a Rock Chalk Dancer?” It made sense a few of them would be partying; not every dancer traveled with the team.

Though she was shorter than Kelsey, she had a way of appearing taller. Perfect posture. “I am.”

Kelsey stuck out her hand. “I’m Kelsey. I’ll be trying out in the spring.”

The girl cocked her head. “Are you? Then what’s that in your hand?”

Kelsey looked down at her rum and Coke, feeling her face turn hot. “I’m not drinking—I’m just here to watch the game. My boyfriend is—”

The students joined in with the blare of the Rock Chalk Chant through the TV, gaining volume with each verse.

The girl got closer, yelling into her ear. “Did I ask who your boyfriend is?”

“No, but—” Kelsey’s mouth fell slack, unable to form words.

The girl’s face broke into a smile, and then a full-on laugh. “I’m messing with you.”

“Oh.” Kelsey’s heart was still beating out of her chest, though she wasn’t quite sure why. She allowed herself a smile, and joined in another round of the fight song. Clap, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap. She and the girl paused conversation and dutifully yelled, “Go, Hawks!”

“I’m Nicki.” She grabbed Kelsey’s hand and shook it. “Hey!” She gestured to another pair of girls in blue warm-up jackets. A redhead and a blonde approached them, holding drinks, filling the surrounding air with different perfumes. Their solid thighs filled their jeans and their lower abs were visible under their cropped shirts. And I thought I was in shape, Kelsey mused.

Nicki pointed at them one by one. “This is Missy, sprained ankle, this is Jen, pulled hamstring. Everybody, this is Kelsey. Cheers!”

The girls lifted their red cups. Kelsey felt the stares of surrounding partygoers and gulped the rest of her drink down.

Nicki nodded toward her. “Kelsey’s trying out.”

The redhead, Missy, gave a whoop. “Good for you! Are you ready?”

Before Kelsey could answer, Jen, the blonde, leaned toward her and touched her hair in its bun. “Whatever you do, make sure you do your hair.”

“Totally,” Missy said. “I got a blowout last year. Completely ruined by sweat the first routine. It was worth it, though. The girls wearing plain ponytails might as well have not even been there. The captains, like, barely looked up from their clipboards during their dances.”

Kelsey found her voice, feeling the hot rum travel to her belly. “What else do I need to know?”

A flood of voices came at once, bouncing back and forth around her.

“Everything’s intense.”

“You can’t just coast by on looks.”

“But it’s a big part of it.”

“We’re the distraction, you know? We’re the eye candy.”

“If you have a decent pair of splits, you’ll be fine.”

“You look the part.”

“You just need to smile a little more.”

“Yeah, smile!”

Kelsey smiled.

Nicki cupped Kelsey’s chin. “There you go.”

Missy and Jen gave her hugs from either side. Their smiles were wide and real, and Kelsey worked hard to match them.

Soon, the girls were joined by more Rock Chalk Dancers, who took it upon themselves to climb on the Delta Sigma pool table and perform pom-pom routines during commercial breaks.

After a while, Kelsey was sweating. She couldn’t keep up with all the names they shouted, the places she didn’t know, the inside jokes.

When the fight song started up again, she had to move away. She found Davis among a sea of sorority sisters, refilling his drink.

“It’s my baby,” he sang in a made-up song. “My baby gi-i-i-rl.”

She straightened his collar as he swayed in front of her, not sure if he was actually moving back and forth or if her vision was wonky. “Hi,” Kelsey replied, her tongue heavy.

He bent close to her ear. “Are you having fun?”

“You are. That’s for sure.”

“I love these guys.” He said it again, shouting at his brothers. “I love these guys!” They shouted and pointed back. “And I love you.”

He kissed her, warm and wet, and bundled her in his arms.

“I love you, too,” Kelsey said. The sight of him bobbing through all these people, electrified and red-cheeked like a little boy, made her happy. But Kelsey was feeling hot and dizzy. She needed air and silence.

“I’m tired, baby,” she found herself saying into the folds of his shirt.

He brought her out, holding her by her shoulders. “But we’re winning!”

“I know!” Kelsey used her last bit of party energy to high-five two sorority sisters on either side of Davis. They looked so tiny and perfect, like My Size Barbie dolls.

“And everyone’s here!”

“I know,” she continued, and finally, Davis paused, looking into her eyes.

He put his arm around her. “Let me drive you home.”

“Ha!” Kelsey let out. “No way. You’ve been drinking.”

“I can give you a piggyback ride? Or maybe call a taxicab? Does Lawrence even have cabs?”

Kelsey laughed at his confusion.

After convincing him that the well-lit, friendly streets would be fine to walk, and a long, kiss-filled good-bye, Kelsey zipped up her coat and started down the hill and into town. Streetlights pulsed in her tipsy vision, and the cold wrapped her exposed skin. Soon, she was on Massachusetts Street, weaving between the celebrators, hearing cheers erupt from inside the bars as she passed. She felt a pang of envy. She wondered if she should have stayed. When she realized she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes, she slipped into La Prima Tazza. Michelle used to practically live in the coffee shop, especially during finals.

The place was dim and a little busted, with cherry-brown counters and mismatching lamps at every table, empty except for two middle schoolers playing a fantasy card game in a corner and the barista, a skinny college-aged man. When she got closer, Kelsey couldn’t help but notice how big and luminous the barista’s eyes were compared to his face. He was singing along to an indie song on the radio as he worked. His T-shirt, which was too small for him, had a Campbell’s soup can on it.

“We don’t sell beer,” he intoned from behind the rows of flavored syrups, cleaning a cup.

Kelsey realized he must be referring to her KU gear. The place was probably mistaken for a bar because it was open late. “Good,” she said. “Because I want the opposite of beer.”

“Oh.” He stopped cleaning and looked up. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Stop,” she heard him say. Kelsey met his gaze. He was biting his lip in serious thought. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Just a second.”

He glided around the counter and pulled her into a hug.

Kelsey didn’t move her arms inside of his skinny ones, wrapping her tight. Then he returned to his position, smacking his hands on the counter. “You look just like Michelle.”