-1 Yes, I am back…after like two years or something (is graduate high school). Basically with Scars on the Heart…one of my older friends told me all about her abusive husband (she's divorced from him now), and it made me feel awful to hear it, and writing about it just makes me feel sick at the moment…I might go back to it when I can write it without thinking of her.
So Prue and Andy are in their senior year of high school, Piper is in her junior year, and Phoebe's a freshman. No Paige, I don't really know why, guess I wasn't thinking that much when I started. I kind of prefer it without her though, it works better. And they are not witches, or if they are then they don't know…they don't become witches during this though, although I couldn't resist mentioning it once or twice.
I don't know if this will have loads of Prue and Andy in it…I've already written quite a lot of this, but it's more about Prue really…which was an accident. But I like it anyway, because it sort of reminds me of something that happened to me a few years ago, back when I was still the cheerleading kind myself.
Obviously I do not own Charmed etc.
And I'm naming the chapters after songs by the way, and this song is by Dashboard Confessionals.
So Long Sweet Summer
It's the first day of my senior year, and I've already been up and ready for an hour making sure everything is just perfect when Phoebe wanders into the kitchen still in her pajamas and looking very disheveled.
"Phoebe!" I exclaim at the sight of my disorganized little sister. "I woke you up almost half an hour ago and you've only just got up?!"
"I don't feel very well," Phoebe mumbles, lies I should say, and then proceeds to pour herself a bowl piled with Froot Loops.
"Phoebe, you say that every single day of the school year," I point out. "It's not going to start working now."
Phoebe sits down, scowling at me, her hair sticking up.
"I hate school," she says, spooning cereal into her mouth.
"Well you do make it difficult for yourself, don't you?" I say somewhat haughtily. "I hope this is going to be a new start for you, Phoebe. It's your first year of high school and it's time you started acting your age."
Phoebe rolls her eyes and begins to mimic me lecturing her just as Piper comes in. Piper snorts with laughter, and I feel my cheeks go red.
"Cut it out," I snap, "or you don't get a ride to school." Phoebe stops at this, knowing she'll never make the bus, and Piper obediently straightens her face too.
"So, this is a landmark, huh?" Phoebe says, trying to apply mascara to her eyelashes while I'm driving. "We're all in high school now!" Oh god, Phoebe in high school…this is asking for trouble. I hit a pothole and Phoebe's hand slips.
"Shit," she mutters, wiping at the black smudge just below her left eye.
"Phoebe!" I reprimand. A fourteen year old should not be swearing. In fact, she shouldn't be applying mascara on her first day of high school as far as I'm concerned.
"What?" She demands sulkily.
"And put that mascara away, please," I add.
I can see her rolling her eyes in the wing mirror, but at least she throws the mascara into her bag.
"Well I don't know what you're getting excited about," Piper mutters from next to me. She's slumped down in her seat with her elbow propped on the edge of the window, her chin resting in her hand as she stares miserably out of her window. I can practically see the black rain cloud over her head. "High school sucks," she adds.
"Oh come on Piper," I say brightly. "That's not true!"
Piper shoots me a look of disgust. "We're not at a pep rally now, Prue," she says cuttingly. "It's alright for you, little miss popular. Half the girls in the school want to be you, the other half want to at least be your friend, and most of the guys want to do you."
"Piper!" What is wrong with my sisters?!
"Well it's true," Piper mutters, staring back out the window again. "Your life's easy."
"Look," I say through gritted teeth. "We are all going to have a perfectly lovely year, okay? Nobody is going to get into trouble," I say, shooting Phoebe a look.
"What?" She says innocently.
"Nobody is going to wallow in self-misery thinking nobody wants to know her," and here I look at Piper, who looks like she's going to cry at this point. At my words she kicks the inside of the car in an uncharacteristic Piper gesture, and I'm sure she mutters 'Fuck off', but I can't be sure.
"We're all going to enjoy it, okay?" Nobody answers me, and I sigh loudly as I park the car.
Piper opens her door and reluctantly gets out, while Phoebe flings hers open and jumps out to look up at the entrance.
"Awesome!" I hear her mutter with a wide grin on her face.
"I've got cheer practice after school," I call after them as Piper slouches away and Phoebe practically skips away, "So you'll have to get the bus home!"
Neither of them show any sign of having heard me, and I get out and lock the car, and take a deep breath, ready to start my senior year.
I slide into my desk in homeroom. People may immediately start to flock around me, but Piper was wrong. It isn't easy for me, it's very hard. If anything, Piper's got it best. She can be pretty much invisible, but I've always got to put a front on, even when I'm having a lousy day, smiling at everyone, getting straight As (most of the time), not making any enemies.
Tom slings an arm around my shoulder.
"How's my favorite cheerleader?" He says with a smile, messing up my hair.
"She's very pissed off with you now," I say, shoving him off and smoothing my hair down.
"Ah, come on," Tome teases. "You know you love me really."
"We'll see who wins the first football game this year, won't we?" I say, and Tom punches my arm playfully.
"If we lose it's because you weren't cheering hard enough," he responds without hesitation, and I allow myself to smile. People seem to think Tom and I are a sort of unofficial couple, which I suppose contributes to my popularity somewhat, seeing as he's the star of the football team, although we're only really friends. I went with him to prom last year because he'd just broken up with his girlfriend, and okay, I admit we've kissed a couple of times, but both times we'd both been drinking. It certainly didn't mean anything.
The classroom door opens, and several people look up expectantly, thinking Mr. Benson's finally arrived, but it's just a boy.
"Is this room 105?" He asks uncertainly, looking down at a piece of paper in his hand.
"It sure is," Tom says, and I can tell he's scrutinizing this newcomer, already deciding whether he's worthy or not of our friendship from the one sentence he's said and his appearance; he's tall with brown hair, pretty good-looking I guess, and he looks like he might play football too. "Mr. Benson's homeroom," Tom adds, and the boy nods.
"Thanks," he says, and begins to make his way to an empty desk near the back, but Tom steps in front of him.
"So you're new here?" He asks, flashing a brilliant smile at the boy.
"Yep," the boy says, looking pretty unconcerned and uninterested.
"Where'd you transfer from then?" Tom asks, feigning interest. I already know Tom's picked up the same things as I have, and he sees this boy as a threat.
"Washington," the boy replies.
"Oh wow," Tom says in a tone that appears friendly on the surface, but which I can recognize as sarcastic. The boy doesn't reply, and Tom doesn't step aside either.
"Can I get past?" The boy asks somewhat coolly. Perhaps he understands who Tom is, the school celebrity, everyone's golden boy. He must do, only someone like Tom would have the audacity to do this, or the motive.
"Tom," I mutter, feeling embarrassed on behalf of my group's behavior. "Drop it."
Tom looks at me and sighs.
"Only for you, darling" he says jokingly, stepping out of the boy's way to let him past, and I hope the boy doesn't think I'm Tom's girlfriend.
"Hmm, fresh meat," Tom mutters, sliding into his desk behind me. "Whaddya think, Halliwell?" He asks, poking me in the back, but thankfully I'm saved from answering him by the arrival of Mr. Benson.
I stop off at my locker before first period, and notice the new boy standing and looking confused a few lockers down from me. I debate whether I should offer to help him or not as I dump some notebooks in my locker. He screws up his schedule suddenly, in what I assume is frustration, and I slam my locker shut and walk over to him.
"Are you lost?" I ask him with a wide smile, and he spins around to face me. There's a flash of recognition on his face.
"You're the girl from homeroom, right?" He says.
"Uh, yeah," I say, still smiling, although I can feel it fading fast. He looks me up and down and catches sight of my cheerleader uniform in my arms.
"Figures," he says coolly.
"Excuse me?" I ask, thinking I must misunderstand him.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," he says casually, and I know I didn't misunderstand him.
"Fine," I say hotly, glaring at him. "If you don't want my help, you can get detention all by yourself!" I turn and storm off to my first class, not wanting to be late.
"Hey, Prue, I saw your little sister!" Tom says, almost jumping into his seat at our table. Several of the Tom's friends, guys from the football team snicker, and I've already assumed he means Phoebe. Tom acts like Piper doesn't exist.
"What?" I snap at them, irritated.
"She's quite something, huh?" Tom says, shoving some chips into his sandwich like it's normal for him to eat two parts of his lunch in one go.
"What are you talking about?" I say, thinking back to Phoebe this morning. Tom takes a huge bite of his sandwich, and makes gestures that I don't understand.
"What is that suppose to mean?" I say, imitating him.
Tom swallows, and says, "She's got detention already for a start."
"Detention?" Grams is going to be so pissed tonight, and I'm probably going to get the blame. "What for?! She's only been here for four hours!"
"She was rude to Mrs. Carlton when she told her her skirt was too short. Called her an old hag."
"She's not wearing a skirt," I start, thinking of Phoebe dressed conservatively (for her) in jeans this morning, but at that moment Phoebe herself walks into the cafeteria, and Tom's right, she is wearing a skirt, a ridiculously short one, and she's surrounded by a gang of other freshmen, most of them looking a lot like her, scruffily dressed and like they're trouble.
"Oh great," I mutter. "Just great."
Start as you mean to go on, huh?
Well I'm really nervous right now about this, so it would be nice if you reviewed…
And I'm probably going to change the title of this story, I just can't think of a better one right now (if you can, pleaser do suggest it).
