A/N
So as you can tell this is my first fic.
Grammar/spelling are things i totally suck at- so i apologize ahead of time.
I'm probably gonna make quite a few mistakes on here so i apologize for that also.
I'm sorry if you find this story offensive.
If you read this- i thank thank THANK YOU!
I'm not 100% sure where this story is going- i know the plot of it- but getting there will be an interesting ride! I'm up for it if you are!
DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters. Stephenie Meyer owns it all.
So here we go:
BPOV
I looked at the reflection staring back at me and grimaced for what felt like the 100th time. I turned to the side and tried sucking in, you know- trying to look nonchalant while doing it. Yeah… not so much. I tried a new angle, turning my hips slightly in a new direction, still nothing. I sighed and turned back to the front. I looked down at my stomach that was, and always would be, scarred with stretch marks. My breasts, which I hated with a passion, and could hardly stand to look at, hung dull and lifeless. They were not at all perky like they should be. My heart pained as I thought that, whoever I married, would not ever be truly satisfied when he saw me naked. My thighs and buttocks area contained cellulite, AND not to mention the fact that my arms flapped in the wind whenever I waved at someone. Do you want to know the funny part? I thought these things AFTER I lost 40+ pounds. I now weighed in between 145 to 150, depending on the day. But I still felt like I did when I weighed 189 pounds. Crazy- I know. As I looked at myself I realized I would never be happy with my body no matter how much weight I lost. A small voice in the back of my head warned me that that thought was not, in any way, good. But I hushed the voice and went back to scrutinizing my body.
After a good 15 minutes later, and feeling rather low about myself, I decided it was time to get ready. We had open house tonight for the new school year and it was tradition that the cheerleaders be there to pass out flyers, answer any questions, and any other duties Mrs. Cope could think of. I donned my uniform and put on the appropriate amount of make-up that would be "acceptable" for a cheerleader, which is more than I usually wear, and trust me, I wear a lot.
I was always met with differing opinions about me being a cheerleader. While I was peppy enough, and definitely had the personality to be a cheerleader, I was still quite different from the rest. The biggest difference was that I wasn't fake. I've been a cheerleader for a grand total of six years, and loved every minute of it. I get this since of pride whenever I put on the uniform. I feel invincible, like no one can harm me while I have it one, which is absolutely absurd- I know. I'm much more comfortable in my skin when I'm in the uniform, and I don't mind being looked at or center of attention. (Now… outside of the uniform, that's a totally different story). I've also been told that I'm quite a good cheerleader. Well I would hope so! I've been doing it for six years! I was always put on the front row, even when I was a freshman. I was told it was because I smile constantly, my motions are impeccable (whatever that means), and I always seem like I'm having fun. (Well DUH! I love it! Why wouldn't I look like I was having fun?) However, the most shocking differences between me and the rest of the cheerleaders is that I actually care about the school, school spirit, and I understand football. I loved it actually. Football is my most favorite sport of. all. time. Basketball? Not so much, but it was growing on me. I knew that most girls only tried out for cheerleading so they could wear the uniform and get all the guys' attention. But it was more than that for me. I take cheerleading very seriously. I also wasn't a ditzy airhead, and couldn't stand the girls who ACTED like they were. What was the point? I would never understand.
I glanced at the clock. 5:15. Perfect, right on time. I put on my shoes and ran down the hallway, gave my mom a hug, and told her I was leaving. I heard her say they would be leaving soon as I ran out the door. "They" being her and my father. He was getting off early from the station so he could do "fatherly duties." Which pretty much meant that he was going just to intimidate all my male teachers, and of course he would be wearing his uniform, not that everybody in town didn't already know he was the chief of police. It was all part of the intimidation process, I guess.
I hopped into my black Ford Escape and cranked it up.
"YOU CAN'T BE TOO CAREFUL ANYMORE…."
Hayley Williams screamed at me as I jumped out of skin.
"Crap!" I shouted as I scolded myself for not remembering to turn the volume down before I got out of my car last night. Again. This was a weekly occurrence for me.
Paramore was my all time band, by far. Staind ran a close second, but I only knew my favorites. With Paramore, I could sing every word- to every song- they had ever written.
I thought back to the time when I listened to nothing but rap. I may be a girl but I could rap with the best of them. If Lil Wayne sung it- I knew every word to it. I laughed out loud at myself. It was only seconds later that I realized this was a dangerous path to let my mind wander down. Only moments later flashes of memories I had tried so hard to forget had me gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were turning white. My breath came out in gasps as I lowered my head in shame.
"Bella?"
I heard my name called which brought me back to reality, and out of my dark little world. I looked up to see my mom standing there with a sad smile on her face. There were only a few people who knew what happened in my not so far off past, and there was only one person who knew about the repercussions of it. That one person being my mom.
"You okay sweetie?" she asked.
I nodded, "Yeah, just mentally preparing myself for tonight. See you in a few."
I backed out of the driveway before she had time to respond.
Stopped at the stop sign at the end of the road, I looked down at the cross I draw on the side of my left hand, by my thumb, every morning. Then I glanced at the Bible verse that I had written on the inside of my right wrist. (Which- let me tell you- is no easy feat, cause I'm right handed and all). The Bible verse changes daily though. Well, that's not true, I repeat sometimes. But today it was Philippians 3:13. (That frequented my wrist a lot since I found it).
I sighed as I leaned my head back against the head rest. I knew I had been forgiven long ago. I knew it in my knower, that I know. But knowing it, and accepting it is two totally different things. Also, forgiving yourself is not as easy as it sounds. I was carrying around unnecessary guilt, but I just didn't know how to let it go. Not yet, anyway.
Since last June I have become extremely religious. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I wasn't before. I believed, had been saved, gone through all the motions- ya know? I just hadn't been living my life for Christ. Well all that changed last June. I often thought it was very cliché of me that I had to have a "life altering moment" for me to start living the way I knew I should be. It's was daily struggle. Satan wasn't giving up the fight, but there was no way I was going back now. I had come too far. I thought I was doing great in some areas of my life, living to please God, and God alone. However, in other areas I was really struggling. (The whole guilt thing being one of those areas).
I had to get a grip. I couldn't think about this now. I had to be prepared to see people I hadn't seen all summer. I had to be peppy and excited. I had to be Bella, which I couldn't be while I was swimming so deep in my past. So I did the only thing I could think of. I rolled down my windows; it was just barely misting right now, and turned up the volume. Because really- is there any better way to drive? I screamed the next lines to the song:
"Go get your shovel, and we'll dig a deep hole- to bury the castle- bury the castle!"
I laughed at the irony as I drove away.
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