A/N: First fanfic of 2015! As of now, Lane's one of my favorite characters so I thought it would be fun to write something about her thought process. The title is inspired by the Passion Pit song, Little Secrets, and I do not own that song, only the inspiration that came from it.
Like a walkman set on shuffle, where the listener would risk the chance of listening to songs on a CD with bad music but trusting that great songs would come up, Lane Kim was mostly confident in her ability to trust what unknown obstacles would thrust themselves into her life. The unexpected was something Lane hesitated to say she enjoyed, not because she particularly found unexpected aspects of life fascinating or whatever, but because if Lane wanted to be known as someone who could hand what was thrown at them, but because not everything in life was something controllable. That was an inevitable fact of life: circumstances changed, and it was up to Lane to rise up that circumstance, even if she didn't like the circumstance.
When Rory, the light of Lane's heart (right after music, of course; if Lane had to choose a human person to bestow that honor, it would be dependable Rory) and the apple of Lane's eye (this was cheesy and cliche and Lane would never Rory she ever thought this, because it was melodramatic and possessive and cheesy, even for Lane; this entire train of thought, come to think of it, was entirely embarrassing and she hoped to never vocalize it) went to Chilton, Lane's heart dropped into her stomach. It was a great opportunity, of course. Rory deserved to attend a prestigious school. She was brilliant and she also had the emotional depth with enough of a personality to back up her brilliance so she wouldn't come off as one of those snobby brats who was smart for the hell of it. Brilliance with the appropriate amount of personality and depth was no easy feat. Rory would succeed, and she would likely succeed with more than moderate success.
It was just hard to imagine Rory succeeding away from Lane, after having been inseparable since kindergarden. It was a difficult fact to swallow. Lane watched Rory board the bus to Hartford for the first time. Like an overbearing and sentimental relative, Lane let tears of unmitigated joy and a profound, aching sense of loss roll down her cheeks. Rory waved one last time, and off to Chilton she went. Lane then walked to Stars Hollow High School with a heavy heart, but with pride that her best friend was off to great things.
During the day, she sometimes daydreamed about what Rory would do at Chilton. Since Chilton was a million years old (and by the looks of the immaculate, pristine brochures Rory showed Lane, a dignified million years old, thank you very much) Rory probably learned Latin with vigor and excitement and advanced forms of science and math that made her seem like a mathematician or a scientist. She could probably talk about the fall of empires as easily as she breathed, and write a twelve page essay about the many recurring themes of Beethoven's symphonies as if it was something that everyone wrote essays about. All of these grandiose ideas seemed like it would be such a casual sight at Chilton. A part of Lane wanted to visit to see what Chilton was like, to get a taste of a world so unlike her own to satisfy her own curiosity.
All of these thoughts of Rory and seeing her after school through the throes of drowning in academics made Lane feel as if she need a change in her own life. At the very least, she wanted to fill up her time with more of what interested her rather than the pain of not seeing Rory at school every day.
With great loneliness and boredom, comes great responsibility to fill up one's time, Lane supposed. On a whim, as she walked down the black and white linoleum-lined hallways, filled with chattery students clumping together as they lurched to their nearest, Lane finally forced herself to notice the frayed, often yellowing from too much time facing the bright sun shining from the streaky windows, flyers for extra curricular activities.
She picked to join the cheerleading squad on a whim. Lane figured she wouldn't get in, and she considered the other clubs that Stars Hollow had to offer. (What interested her most was the philosophy club, but after attending approximately two meetings she realzied that the philosophy club was full of aggressively opinionated people who couldn't normally stammer their opinions out in history classes where their pseudo intellectual, politically edged opinions oozed out of them. Lane overlooked the animation club, because that wasn't her passion. Book club was more of Rory's thing, because she'd read just about anything if it had words on a page. Lane didn't want to understand the intricacies of chess because it seemed boring.) She was coordinated and energetic, but not enough to say these were a extraordinary or defining traits of hers. On Friday, when the tryouts were supposed to happen, Lane dressed up in her preppiest athletic outfit to impress the cheerleaders putting on the tryouts.
"If I mess up this up, you have my permission to laugh hysterically," Lane said in an attempt to lighten the mood she thought was all too serious.
"Noted," was the response of the cheerleaders, who shooed her to start. She hopped, jumped, skipped, half-danced and half-flailed to the music that was set for her; it was a bland pop song whose title she couldn't and wouldn't remember. She did the splits and raised her arms over her head, letting the plastic red and white pom poms hover a few inches over her head to indicate her finish.
"Very unusual choreography, Lane. You're free to go." This statement seemed so innocent, so benin. It was said without much intonation. Rory would've reminded Lane that bland statements like this were to placate nervous performers, that it wasn't a slight upon her personality. Lane sighed. If she got in, it would be a miracle.
She surprised herself when she read the crisp page stapled on the bulletin board saying that Lane Kim was officially a cheerleader.
...Who would've thought?
Lane accepted that she would practice intensely, every day, where the fruits of her labor would be seen by everyone in the school. She became okay with knowing all eyes would be on her as she performed at sports games. It made her feel powerful to say that she couldn't do something that disinterested her because she had cheer practice. It got her out of the house, and even Mama grudgingly approved of her extra-curricular activity, because it made her appreciate her God-given life. She could even put it on her college application, and she even found that cheerleaders made good acquaintances who she could talk to every so often when school seemed too boring. It was a casual sight to see her wear skirts more often, because the revealing outfits made her feel more confident about her body; the exercise made her look more healthy, which was always a plus what with all the junk food she snuck around.
She should've done something like this this exercise made her feel more energized during the day. She didn't feel like dropping dead at the end of the day from exhaustion. It gave Mama an excuse to ask more of her with all of this extra energy causing her to zip around, which wasn't a side effect she liked but it got her some brownie points when she inevitably make mistakes in the future. She liked that Mama had a fraction of trust in her. Not too much more than usual, because that would mean Lane and Mama would have a regular function mother/daughter relationship, but it was nice to fall in the habit of having a Mama who was a teensy bit less fearful of your mistakes and life choices. It was easier to pay attention in class, because she had finally learned to focus better.
Cheerleading, Lane rationalized, wasn't too bad after all. She'd keep this up for at least a year, maybe all through high school if she was lucky.
Telling Rory about this would be harder than Lane expected. What if she took it wrong? What if Rory judged her for it? It wasn't like Lane was doing anything horrendous. She was lonely and bored and needed something, anything to do after school when Rory was traipsing around Hartford with her Chilton friends. (Confronting her about this went easier than expected.)
Even after Lane became better coping with every-day school shenanigans without Rory, she always had cheerleading to back her up; it was a weirdly comforting thought to know that she could grow and transform into someone new because of a whim. Now, tt was such a casual sight to see her joking, laughing and interacting with cheerleaders.