Most kids growing up in peaceful little Platte River, Nebraska spent their days riding bikes, playing sports, or climbing trees. But Kaycee Davis? She spent hers watching.

Born with a condition that weakened her legs, she walked with braces for much of her childhood. Running was hard. Jumping was damn near impossible. While other girls joined cheer squads and gymnastics, Kaycee sat in the bleachers wishing she could someday do at least ONE cartwheel.

But she refused to quit day-dreaming and every afternoon she’d hobble into the backyard and practice balancing, stretching, and she’d do tiny hops.

Someone noticed.

A squirrel living in the old oak tree behind her house watched her daily struggles. Curiosity slowly became friendship. Kaycee left peanuts and other treats at the base of the tree. Neither understood the other’s language but somehow they understood each other.

Years passed.

Kayce never gave up her dream of doing at least ONE cartwheel someday. The squirrel became her furry little cheerleader of sorts, hopping along side her, trying its furry best to help.

One autumn evening, disaster struck!

The squirrel’s frantic cries brought Kaycee outside, where she saw her tiny friend cornered near the old oak tree by a mountain lion that’d wandered onto the property.

Kaycee knew one pounce would end it all for her squirrely comrade and she didn’t hesitate. Ignoring every warning her good sense was sending her, she grabbed the nearest thing, which unfortunately was just a rake. She still charged as best her hampered legs would allow her.

She managed to send the animal retreating, but not before it left Kaycee bruised, battered, and injured. She collapsed while the squirrel watched from its favourite tree branch.

While Kaycee slept that night, the squirrel made a decision. It left that old oak tree and embarked on a journey through forests, rivers, and fields until it reached a grove few knew existed.

Deep inside that ancient land lived an Archdruid. The squirrel pleaded its case and told them all about the girl who’d spent her life unable to run, jump, or flip. The kind girl who’d fed the squirrel’s tiny belly when others ignored it. The girl who’d put herself between a mountain lion and something much smaller than herself.

The Archdruid listened and then made an offer. Since magic always required balance, nothing would be given without taking.

The squirrel didn’t hesitate. It offered the remaining years of its own life. Every season it had left, all the sunrises it’d never see, every nut it’d never bury. All of it.

The Archdruid accepted and as payment for the squirrel’s sacrifice, he cast a powerful restoration spell upon Kaycee. The weakness in her legs vanished. But the Archdruid included extras for her troubles. He granted her a portion of the squirrel’s gifts… its balance, flexibility, uncanny agility, and lightning-fast reflexes.

When dawn broke, the squirrel was gone. Kaycee searched for months. Eventually she accepted it’d moved on, likely afraid of the danger other big cats might pose. What she’d never know was that her furry friend had traded its future for hers.

Doctors were stunned by her miracle recovery. Years later, they were more amazed by what she could to. Abilities that led her to become an elite gymnast and a national champion cheerleader.

… and when she finally got the chance to turn that movement into something bigger, she never looked back. 


Brawliepop Barbie bounces into frame wearing her old Julia-Madison High School cheer uniform and carrying her pom-poms.

“Hey everyone, it’s-ah me, it’s-ah me, Brawliepop Barbie!”

She grins the grinniest of grins.

“Let’s learn about my opponents!”

She raises a pom-pom.

“Ready?”

“GIVE ME A B!”

“GIVE ME AN I!

“GIVE ME AN O!”

“WHAT’S THAT SPELL?”

“BIO!”

“DURANGO, DOMONGO!”

“HEY! HEY!”

“YOU DON’T HAVE A ROSTER PAGE!”

“BUT THAT’S OKAY!”

“I SAW YOUR PROMO ANYWAY!”

She stops.

Blinks.

Lowers her pom-poms slowly.

“I think?”

Pauses.

“I’m not entirely sure what happened. You were adopted in Italy. Joined a cooking cult.  Robbed a tribe.  Found a meteor. Somehow grits exploded someone. And your mom said ‘no’ and I think the universe just exploded after that.”

More pausing.

“Did I miss anything?”

Grinning shrug. 

“Feels like I accidentally watched three seasons of a TV show starting in the middle.”

Back to the cheer!

“YOUR RECIPES SOUND SCARY!”

“YOUR STORIES ARE BIZARRE!”

“BUT WRESTLING ISN’T DECIDED..”

“BY RADIOACTIVE GRITS IN A JAR!”

Pom-poms on hips. Cute cheer pose.

“I’m not a chef, Dom-ah. I don’t need meteor dust, special ingredients, or cooking empires. I just need a ring and enough room to do a flip. And if you’re spending all your time discovering ingredients from outer space, I hope you’ve spent a little time prepping for the girl who’s gonna be flying through the air at approximately a billion miles per hour.”

Pom-poms at the ready.

“And then there’s El Landerson.”

She cheers!

“L-A-N!”

“D-E-R”

“S-O-N”

“LANDERSON!”

“SO NICE!

“SO FAST!”

“SO FOCUSED ON EVERYTHING BUT THIS MATCH!”

She nods approvingly.

“Okay, I like you, my guy. You high-five kids. I high-five kids. You give away masks. I give away pom-poms. We’re basically cousins.”

Thoughtful chin tap.

“But then I watch your promos, and every answer is basically… if I win this match, then I can win another match, and then maybe I’ll win a championship after I win those matches..”

She grins.

“That’s a lot of winning for someone who hasn’t won THIS match yet.”

Deep inhale for the next round.

“So here’s my cheer for both of you."

“D-U-R!”

“L-A-N!”

“LISTEN UP!”

“HERE’S THE PLAN.”

“YOU BRING THE GRIT.”

“YOU BRING THE SIX-ONE-NINE.”

“I’LL BRING THE FLIPS.”

“I’LL BRING THE FIGHT!”

She rattles those pom-poms fun and furious.

“K-I-C-K!”

The camera cuts as she points in three directions.

“KICK!”

“KICK!”

“KICK!”