A/N

This is set in the universe of the original script. If you haven't read it already, I highly suggest doing so- it might be a bit challenging to understand this fanfic otherwise.

The gist of the script is that BeetleJuice is actually a demonic entity who has the intention of murdering the Deetz family and bringing the whole town down. He steals the identity of Swallowtail (his twin brother, counselor for the recently deceased) to gain the support of the Maitlands. Lydia Deetz varies significantly in her personality in the fact that she is portrayed as a delinquent who later becomes infatuated with BeetleJuice due to one of his schemes. Eventually the Deetz and Maitlands realize how dangerous he is and the story concludes with the exorcism of BeetleJuice. After her experience, Lydia turns over a new leaf and decides to join the cheerleading team to her new school: Winter River. Finally, it is implied that Claire Brewster is the leader of this cheerleading squad. Unlike her cartoon counterpart, she is sweet and makes an attempt to befriend Lydia by asking her to join.

With that, onward with the story.


The stench of cheap cigarettes wafts through the women's bathroom at Winter River High School, the breeze from the open window can do very little to compete with the sheer quantity of smoke. The culprit is none other than Lydia Deetz, regarded by most as a delinquent with a silver tongue. She was supposed to be attending cheer practice at this very time, but she has taken great comfort in the solitude in this time of tragedy-or was it something to celebrate, rather than a tragedy?

Cleanliness is not a concern to Lydia as she sits in one of the bathroom stalls, her black lips clenched lightly around the white cigarette. She regards the graffiti around her thoughtfully, the names from all the gossip swirling together until they formed one big indistinguishable wall of text. With a moment of consideration she decides to add her own mark and she withdraws a pen from her satchel.

Claire Brewster ate shit on her way to the afterlife.


Yesterday Afternoon

Everything the coach had imparted onto the cheerleaders under her instruction was about to be tested. Today was the day of the big game and there were no redoes, no second chances. The cheerleaders had to perform perfectly or turn both the coach and Winter River Highs School into a complete mockery. The coach, named Misses Bonnell, had faith in her beloved pupils- all but one at least: Lydia Deetz.

Miss Bonnell was not certain what sort of agenda she had, but there was an ulterior motive for the otherwise gothic teen to join the cheerleading squad. She was their newest member and while she had shown promise, she was constantly going against the strict uniform and she would oftentimes pull publicity stunts. At this crucial time before the game, Miss Bonnell could not afford any of Lydia's antics. She would have to keep a careful eye on the teen because there was too much at stake.

"Chop chop ladies, we have one hour before we have to clear the field. Get into position," Miss Bonnell clasped her hands around her lips, allowing her voice to carry across crowd of cheerleaders.

At this point they all knew the drill. Their choreography was just short of the perfection their coach so desperately strived for and they had no problem easing Miss Bonnell's anxiety with a demonstration or two even though they considered this practice completely unnecessary. They went through it once with no problem, twice, and on the third time they were becoming weary of feigning a love for a mascot they detested.

"Winter River Badgers, what a crock." Lydia muttered as she and the other flyer girls were hoisted up by the bases, balancing on nothing more than the palms of those below them.

The indignity of the remark was ignored by the rest of her team members; this was the final basket toss before they could be dismissed for a break. A short break at that, but in their eyes it was well earned after a strenuous round of practice. One by one they were tossed into the air to the beat of the music, the result of long hours and teamwork. Once it was Lydia's turn she was confident she would be fine, tucked between her breasts and beneath her uniform was a good luck charm. Besides, her group of friends awaited her on the bleachers that were otherwise empty.

As she leapt through the air, Lydia felt like she was flying on cloud nine. It was as if she had went further than any other basket toss, as if driven by some unseen force. She was an angel, but not one of the light however beautiful in her own right. When it was time to retire her wings, she realized that she was far from hitting the mark. Panic flashed across her face, at any rate she would go straight for the ground.

"Crap, I've got her- I've got her!" Claire Brewster shrieked, her hand flashing out and grabbing a hold of her fallen comrade's wrist.

It was too little too late. In those moments, Lydia was not rational. At the sudden sensation of someone seizing her wrist, she panicked and ripped it away from her unseen attacker. While she was able to adjust her landing to the cheerleaders below her, Claire was not so lucky. The sudden velocity of someone jerking away from her caused Claire to lose her footing and she went tumbling head first into the grassy turf of the field. The force of the fall was propelled by her entire weight, and it snapped her neck much like a toothpick.

Game over, Winter River Badgers.


I don't have enough tardies left for this bullshit; I'll lose credit for my classes if I don't hurry to my next period.

Claire Brewster was certainly a sight for sore eyes. She kept her bleach blonde hair to her shoulders and never seemed to wear it in the same way twice. She worked hard at keeping up her appearance, even if that meant waking up an extra ten minutes to coordinate the color of her lip gloss to her accessories. In a school that was dominated by tacky uniforms, one would do anything to stand out from each other. Even if that meant spending hundreds of dollars on fake tans, makeup, jewelry, and who knows what. Not that Claire had to worry about cash, she had enough to wipe her ass with it if she so chose.

All of this is true, except if she were to glance into a mirror at this point in time it would surely crack down the middle. Her beautiful tan was marred by purple and blue bruises surrounding her neck and her clothes were decorated in a layer of dirt and turf. It was a wonder she even survived the fall. Now she had to focus on one thing: Saving her already poor attendance.

The halls were empty, a bad sign by all accounts. It meant everyone was already in class. When she located the door she was searching for, she flung it open and hustled over to her desk: number four. Her apology for her tardiness was ignored, but at least she didn't have to make up an excuse. Claire slid her backpack off her shoulder and began to paw through it, searching for her book. Much to her horror, they were all missing aside from one she didn't even recognize.

She wrapped her manicured hand around it and withdrew it, placing it on the desk carefully so it would not draw the attention of the students sitting at neighboring desks. Try as she might, she could not decipher the title. She read it again and again, but each time it just seemed like some kind of sick joke. The title glared up at her, like some kind of code she was responsible for uncovering. It read…

Handbook for the Recently Deceased.


End of Chapter 1

A/N

This is the first fanfiction I've written in years, and I'm proud of the end result. Next chapter we will be introducing Swallowtail and delving into Lydia's involvement in the death of Claire. As always please feel free to send me some constructive criticism.

Side note: I apologize if this is not formatted properly; whenever I transfer it to it seems to mess it up.