I stood motionless upon the green grass of the sidelines, pom-poms in hand but arms resting at my sides. Other cheerleaders were dancing around me, taunting me and only provoking me further. What had interrupted me was the sight of them. Lizzie, Miranda and Gordo, still best friends after all these years, enjoying their Saturday afternoon out at the big Hillridge vs. Jefferson football game. Closing my eyes, I thought of what waswhat could've been. It had only been three years since I'd been able to have a normal conversation with any of them, and my thirst for a true friendship only grew to leave me barren, arid wasteland. But when the opportunity for resolution arose, I only further mutilated the iota of tolerance they still kept for me. But how could I do otherwise? I, Kate Sanders, was a popular, cheerleading snob. It was practically my duty to be haughty and unheeding towards all who crossed my path. Lizzie and the rest of her little crew were specks of dust on the floor. Useless. Worthless. It just wasn't exemplary for a popular person to even think about people so low on the social ladder. Just then, as I opened my eyes, I noticed the people in the crowd staring directly at me. A girl stepped in front of me.
Once upon a year gone by
She saw herself give in
Every time she closed her eyes
She saw what could have been
"Kate, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Georgette, the head cheerleader, screamed in my face. She grabbed the pom-poms out of my hand. "You can't be a cheerleader if you DON'T cheerleader." Like the fire of a dragon, her hot breath blew across my face. "This is your final warning."
Like I really cared if I was a cheerleader or not. But losing that meant losing my popularity. And to forfeit my only companion in life because of a silly daydream was not a risk I could take. I had everything a teenage girl ever hoped, dreamed, or prayer for handed to me on a silver platter. Everything was right in front of me, yet nothing was really in me. Pretty soon, I was inhuman. Emotionless and empty. A spoiled rotten brat,' they called me. If they only knew all I ever wanted was a friend. But they didn't know my pain.
"I'm sorry," I said softly and meekly to the demon that stood before me. "It'll never happen again."
Well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds
When covers tucked in tight
Funny when the bottom drops
How she forgets to fightto fight
We cheered for another two hours, until the stadium lights came on and the crisp evening air whisked by, sending a tingling feeling up my spine and arising goosebumps on m arms and legs. I stole an occasional glance in the trio's direction as they watched the game, and then silently scolded myself for taking the chance of being distracted again. I just could not stop staringand wonder what the view from the stands was like. Or even what it was like to have someone to laugh with, someone to cry with, someone to tell your deepest secrets to. Even when I had friends, I took them for granted. So all the laughter, all the tears, and all the secrets stayed sealed up deep within me. The only place they were safe.
Faint shivering overtook my body. As the football team processed to the lockers and the fans scattered to the parking lot, I noticed most other people acted as if it were another warm California evening. Perhaps it was just my imagination, the overall frigid milieu that hovered over my head. Then again, everyone else wasn't wearing a belly-baring top and a skirt so short that I wondered why I bothered to wear it at all. A few of the other girls followed the last of the team, giggling and shrieking sporadically. My ears ached at the sound of these stereotypical cheerleaders: perky and vacuous. They gave every last one of us a bad name. All because of a few people. Life wasn't fair.
And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
As I reached the girls' locker room to change a small but powerful hand thrusted me towards the cold, tile wall. The back of my head throbbed with pain from the blow. My shifting eyes settled on the person in front of me. Claire Milleryet another reason cheerleaders were stereotyped.
"I know who you were staring at," she said, condescendingly. "It's those freaks again" She tugged at the neckline of my shirt. "You're pissing off Georgette, and you know how she gets." Her grip tightened. "You're screwing all of us by not doing your one simple task for the day, and that's cheerleading." Her words were dripping acid. "Listen, Kate, if you want to run off and be friends with a bunch of losers, fine. But don't screw us all over in the process." She shoved me back slightly against the wall before stomping into the locker room.
It wouldn't have hurt so much if I hadn't been thinking about the same thing only hours prior. If I could've at least defended myself.
If it hadn't been true.
As darkness quickly steals the light
That shined within her eyes
She slowly swallows all her fear
And soothes her mind with lies
I walked alone from the stadium to the post-victory party at Tore Valentino's house only a few blocks away. Tore Valentino was the quarterback, the big man on campus, and basically the host of all of the "important" parties of the year. He was nothing short of what you'd think he'd be. Arrogant, macho jock who crushed beer cans against his head to impress people. He wasn't the reason I was going. I'd be there because of Ethan.
Ethan Craft was my boyfriend of five months. He was the only one who was ever truly there for me. He wasn't a football player, but he was on the water polo team, another team that was stiff competition for Jefferson High. And he was, as expected, the most popular boy in 9th grade. The one all the girls swooned over and doted upon. I counted my blessings; I knew I was lucky.
I never second-guessed our relationship. He was good to me, I was good to him. I was just a little disappointed when we were first going out. I thought it'd be moreinteresting. We'd try to talk on the phone regularly, but always found ourselves scouring for a conversation topic. I stayed with him, though, because we were the perfect high school couplethe jock with the cheerleader girlfriend. And I savored the feeling of being envied, for that was the only reason someone would covet something of mine. Walking down the high school hallways with my popular boyfriend attached to my arm, flaunting him like a rare, precious jewel while the eyes of onlookers widened with their unmistakable jealousy. That was the veritable payoff to all of the pain and suffering I was subjected to, being who I am, and what I am. The frigid, popular cheerleading bitch. Why did I keep up this façade? I tried and I tried to break free from those invisible shackles, but it was futile. Even if I tried to turn my back on my past life, the burden of it would still linger behind me. So it was here I was stuck. Forever.
Well, all she wants and all she needs
Are reasons to survive
A day in which the sun will take
Her artificial lighther light
I pressed my manicured finger against the doorbell. When the door opened, a rush of dance music flooded to my eardrums and I saw everyone inside dancing like they were drunk. Then again, they probably were.
"Katie, baby!" Tore slurred his words. I knew he was drunk, but it didn't occur to me to worry or become concerned. I could barely remember a time when he was sober. I plastered a grin onto my face as I took a step in and he slammed the door behind me.
"Hi, Tore," I responded quietly. "Do you know where Ethan is?"
"Katie, what do you say," he ignored me and started to breath heavily, "You and I"
Before I could say anything, he placed a hand on my lower back and ushered me through the dancing crowds. His hand was warm to the touch. When he found an empty spot on the dance floor, he started dancing and slowly moving closer towards me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and began to speak softly.
"Tore, d-don't get me wrong" He wasn't paying attention to my words. Only my body. Staring at me and making me feel so self-conscious. "I'll dance with you, I just" His hands moved to my hips. "I just really would like to talk with Ethan for a minute"
I knew drunk people were prone to get touchy-feely with anyone with arm's reach of them. But even as his hot, stale breath down my neck and his grimy hand feeling my exposed skin caused me discomfort, I could not find the strength in me to push away. So as his lips slid down my neck, I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled away and started towards the steps.
But just as I thought I was home free, his hand grabbed at my wrist and twisted it around, pulling me back to him. The excruciating pain in my entire lower arm was nothing compared to the hurtful words he whispered into my ear in those seconds. At last, with one final push, he let me go.
And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
It's one more day in paradise
One last chance to feel alrightalright
The salty tears gently streamed down my cheeks as I began my desperate search for Ethan. He said he'd be here and he never stood me up. Ethan wouldn't do that to me because he loved me and wouldn't want for me to worry. But after no sign of him on the entire first floor, I began to worry. Although I didn't expect him to try to be the center of attention, I never thought he'd fester in a corner somewhere. Was he hiding from me? The thought of this gave me a knotted feeling in my stomach and the urge to throw up.
I still felt so violated, like my privacy had been obliterated so that the barriers I kept up around myself had been obliterated. It left me naked, alonescared. The one thing I needed most was to find him, my only shield from the hell that is high school. I couldn't stress enough what lengths he had gone at to save me from the mental anguish that hung in the words of my cruel peers. He would never hurt me like that We'd known each other too long and loved each other too much.
Finally, I ran up the stairs and opening each door and yelling for Ethan frantically, though my voice was drowned out by the dance party music playing below. A few doors were locked, and I silently prayed he was not in one of them. There were only two doors left when I opened one and looked inside, only to choke on my gasping breath.
Don't pretend to hold it in, just let it out
Don't pretend to hold it in, just push it out
Don't you try to hold it in, just let it out
Don't you try to hold it in, you hold it in
"Kate, let me explain" Ethan begged.
"What's there to explain?" I whispered so quietly, as if I was speaking to myself.
There was no explanation for it. And even if he did have a perfectly good excuse for why he was sitting on the bed, making out with some blonde girl on his lap, I couldn't bear to hear it. My breath escaped from my mouth in trembles. The floodgates broke once again and I cried quietly with my head tilted downward. I couldn't stand any of this anymore.
I ran.
Down the stairs and towards the door.
"Kate, wait! It's not what it looks like!" Ethan screamed after me.
I turned around and glared in his direction, to get one final look at my entire world crashing down before my eyes. Then I threw open the door and ran.
It's not what it looks like.
The words rung in my ears and stung my mind. What did it look like? It looked like everything I lived for was suddenly gone, and nothing was left except the tears that I cried. And that was exactly what it was. Should I have given him a chance to explain? He could offer me a few temporary comforting lies, but nothing he could've said would permanently erase the frustration bottled inside me from the obstacles I narrowly escaped, and the years and years of lies and only lies. From my experience, I had learned: two wrongs never made a right.My own naïve frame of mind blinding me from seeing what truly was.Ethan might've been a nice guy, but he was a popular girl magnet. He never wanted commitment. He, too, probably just liked the envious stares from other guys in the hall. And I was as naïve to think that only I was smart enough to think of a plan so conniving. I must've thought myself so desirable to think that he'd never cheat on me. And that he loved me. True love, not just a stupid teenage romance. But that was not to be.
I reached my house and leaned over to catch my breath. What was it that I was running from? Ethan? My fears? Myself? When I regained some energy, I pulled the key out of my pocket and let myself into my house. I didn't know who was home, but if anyone knew I was out this late, I'd be in big trouble.
I tiptoed up the stairs towards my room, hoping that no one would hear my footsteps. When I had almost reached the top, a voice, like a lightning bolt, boomed into the foyer.
One more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
It's one more day in paradise
One last chance to feel alright
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" It was my father's voice that bent around the corner from the kitchen. Most children would've run upstairs and locked their doors to escape their parents' wrath. But I knew better.
I walked slowly down the stairs, my eyes wide with dread, anticipating what was to come. Three feet in front of him, I stopped and stared at the floor.
"Do you know what time it is?" he screeched at me. I gulped, knowing what time it was, but to speak was to have a death wish. "Answer me, damnit!" He grabbed a hold of both of my shoulders and scolded me under his rank breath. "Where were you, you little whore? Out screwing around again? Is that where you were?"
"No, dad," I sputtered out, immediately knowing it was a mistake when his nails dug into my shoulders and he pounded me against the kitchen wall.
"Excuse me?" he screamed in my face. I held my breath and felt my lungs get tighter, as my eyes were too weak to even shed a tear. "Excuse me?!" he screamed louder. I felt a pang of confidence in my stomach, spawned from the hate for my abusive father that stood before me.
"I'm sorry!" I yelled back bravely, even though there wasn't a sorry bone in my body. I was sorry, though, that I had said anything. Before I could apologize for my rude tone, his heavy hand slapped across my face. I stumbled back, and trembled. It left a sensation that stung deep into my left cheek, an agonizing pain I'd never felt before. And just like all the times beforeI ran.
"You will not talk back to me that way, you bitch!" my father called up to me as I stomped quickly up the steps. I reached my bedroom and flopped onto my bed. And just like all the times beforeI cried.
Once upon a year gone by
She saw herself give in
Every time she closed her eyes
She saw what could have been.
This was my life was. If I had my way, I'd still be friends with Lizzie, Miranda, Gordo. We'd all have gone out after the game to the Digital Bean and have our own personal pizza party before spending the night at Lizzie's house watching silly teen movies with people so unnaturally happy. The rest of the night would be spent telling secrets and doing crazy dares, all in good fun. If this was my life, I wouldn't have the physical and emotional scars that I wear today. But I chose the role that I choose to wish act out in our teenage melodrama. And if I had known I was choosing a life of pain and misery, I could've left it, and it would all be behind me.
But it's not, and it never will be. Tomorrow would just be another day of hell. My whole life would be a sick cycle of abuse, then sorrow, then forgiveness, only to be repeated the next day. I hated my life and the way it was. But the reality was, things would never be the same as they once were.
I took my comforter and laid it on top of myself, tucking myself in tight, as my mother used to do. I laid my head down onto the soft pillow, and cried myself to sleep.
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[A/N: Wow, I have been working on this story for the longest time and I'm amazed it's finished. Wow, wow, wow. The ending was extremely hard to write, and I hope you liked it. The story as a whole, too.
The song is "Paradise" by Vanessa Carlton, for those who don't know.
Pleaseeee, let me know what you think of my story: please review. Thank you so, so much.]