At 13, she fought to block her father’s deportation. Now she fights for the nationals-bound George Washington cheer team.

The George Washington High cheer team will be heading to the national competition in Dallas in January, thanks to Philadelphians who donated more than $30,000 to fund the trip. But that doesn’t mean the pressure is off.

“If anything, we feel more pressure,” said senior cocaptain Adamaris Lopez, 18. “There’s more people counting on us.”

It’s a familiar situation for Lopez, who has a world of experience with people relying on her. When she was 13, her father spent nearly a year living inside a Philadelphia church, taking sanctuary to block his deportation. Lopez, her family’s oldest child and most proficient English speaker, was crucial to that fight.

George Washington’s team is remarkable for its skill and fast rise, for its persistence in the face of adversity. It’s also extraordinary because of its members, young women and men who often work jobs to help support their households, care for family members, and keep up their grades, all in addition to hours of practice.

But even among such a responsibly minded group, Lopez stands out.

Lopez was born in Langhorne, but her father, Javier Flores Garcia, came to Philadelphia from Mexico in 1997. When she was 12, he was arrested for entering the country without official permission.

After 16 months in detention centers, Garcia was sent home to prepare for deportation. Shortly after President Donald Trump’s election, Garcia moved into the Arch Street Methodist Church in Philadelphia, stalling action by federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials, who must generally avoid arresting people in places like churches and hospitals.

Garcia lived inside the church for nearly a year, one of the first of a series of undocumented immigrants to seek sanctuary in churches around the country. Philadelphia became a leader and a center in the sanctuary movement; within two years, more than a dozen people would be living in city churches.

Lopez remembers a dark and confusing time. She was a mainstay for her mother, Alma Lopez, who earned money through mowing lawns and shoveling snow for neighbors. An uncle helped out too, sending money when he could.

“I had to be the speaker in my house,” said Lopez. “I was doing protests left and right. I had to rush to school and go home to help my mom, and my brothers would ask my mom and me, ‘Where’s dad, when is he coming?’ It was hard to explain, very traumatic. We didn’t know if we had to move back to [Mexico], or if we were able to stay in America.”

Almost every night, Adamaris, her mother, and her brothers, Javier and Yael, went to see her father inside the church, bringing him food. She took part in protests outside the Philadelphia ICE office, demanding that her father have the right to stay.

Those who were there remember Lopez as strong beyond her years.

“They’re the epitome of a Philadelphia story,” said Erika Almirón, a Mijente rights-group consultant who worked closely with the family as executive director of Juntos, the Latino advocacy organization. “Had he been deported, what would that have meant for the family? And her ability to take part in that team?”

Lopez, Almirón said, is “an integral part of something that Philadelphia is so proud of. It’s why we fight for immigrant rights and community — the city only gets better.”

“She exuded positive energy,” said the Rev. Robin Hynicka, the church senior pastor who helped keep Garcia safe. “It’s not surprising she’s part of this group of incredible young people. Adamaris has always been a very upbeat and positive person.”

In sanctuary, Lopez’s father said then, time seemed endless. Everything was the same, day after day. He worked while he was inside, painting virtually the entire church interior. He missed his family terribly.

On Oct. 11, 2017, Garcia left the church after being granted a path to approval of a “U-visa,” which can be available to victims of serious crimes who assist the government in prosecuting those responsible. He had been stabbed in Bensalem in 2004.

Lopez remembers the crush of news cameras after her father left sanctuary, the cheering friends and supporters. Mostly, she remembers the assistance offered by so many.

“Literally, the city helped my family reunite, to be able to have an opportunity in this country,” said Lopez.

After Garcia was home a short time, he decided to start his own tree service company. Lopez stepped up to help translate and navigate setting up an LLC, a website, and marketing the business.

Five years later, the business is well established, and Lopez remains key to family life. She still helps care for her brothers, now 8 and 10, checking their homework and driving them to football practice. Lopez worked a job at the Gap, too, until recently, when cheer and school responsibilities became too demanding.

In the meantime, cheerleading had offered her joy and refuge, Lopez said. And when the team made it to nationals but lacked the funds to get there, Lopez dug in as the team and its coaches worked to raise money.

“I knew that you have to reach out to people to get help,” said Lopez. “With everything that happened, I knew we had to be outspoken, we had to say what we wanted to do, what we were passionate about.”

Telling the team’s story worked. Inquirer readers donated over $30,000 to pay for the trip; the team was even recognized by City Council as “truly our city’s national champions.”

That Lopez has gone from playing a key role in her family’s fight to a central role on a team that’s vaulted to a national stage is no shock, said Brennan Gian-Grasso, Garcia’s attorney.

“Adamaris was so smart,” said Gian-Grasso. “She had a sense of what was going on at a very young age. I’m not surprised she’s become a leader.”