Sandi watched the locker room as the cheerleaders filed out one by one - all save for the head cheerleader. She waited until after the end-of-school bell rang, then slipped into the locker room, grateful to find it empty, save for her prey (who had her back turned to her). "Hey, Brittany," Sandi called out.

"Eep!" Brittany squeaked, swirling around with her pom-pom raised threateningly. "Sandi! You have your skin back!"

Sandi had managed to corner Brittany just after school had let out, on her first day back from her corrective surgery. She figured it was now Brittany's turn to inspire Sandi into some new, misguided adventure.

Sandi ignored the comment about her skin and pressed on with her question. "Like, what do you find fashionable?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sandi. When I'm at school, I just wear my cheerleading outfit. But when I'm at home, I don't wear anything, 'cause Daddy says we're nudists, except..." Brittany's brow furrowed. "Except Daddy never goes naked himself. And he doesn't want Brian or Ashley-Amber to know about us being nudists. Or any of the neighbors..."

Sandi ignored the horrific glimpse into Brittany's home life and cut her off. "So, like, cheerleader outfits, then?"

"Yeah!" Brittany squeaked. "Oh, but if you were thinking of joining, Sandi, we already had tryouts last month. You're welcome to try again next semester, though!"

"Hmm..." Sandi pursed her lips, deep in thought (for her). "So I can't be a cheerleader?"

"Not for Lawndale," Brittany said with a sad shrug.

"Not for Lawndale..." Sandi echoed distantly, before turning around and walking away. She had the perfect plan.

XXXX

Dear Mrs. Griffin,

It is my regretful duty to inform you of your daughter's suspension from Lawndale High for a period of one week. You see, she came to the Homecoming Game dressed as a cheerleader, along with the other members of her Fashion Club. Normally, this would not be a problem, but she was wearing the opposing team's colors. As the opposing team was Oakwood, our arch-rivals, this caused a significant disturbance in the home bleachers.

The transgressions do not end there, I'm afraid. Your daughter and her friends began reciting a cheer, one that I regrettably cannot repeat here. The contents of the cheer were rather vulgar and...eww. Rest assured the words were very demoralizing for both the Lions and the fans watching the game.

Afterwards, the Oakwood coach came over and found out they were Lawndale students, and threatened to sue us for infringement of Oakwood's character, for attempting to represent them as...well, whatever your daughter and her friends were trying to do. Ms. Li ordered the team to forfeit in order to stave off the threat, and that's when the already restless crowd broke into the riot...though, I'm sure you're well aware of that part, since your station covered it.

Ms. Li has already decided your daughter is to receive only a single week of suspension from school. She felt that the injuries sustained by the Fashion Club in the riot - Stacy Rowe lost some teeth, Tiffany Blum-Deckler broke an arm, and Quinn Morgendorffer received several cuts and scrapes - was almost sufficient enough punishment by itself, though she's received numerous angry complaints that harsher punishments need to be taken against them. One person even wrote in asking your daughter be publicly flogged...oh my!

We at Lawndale High hope that this isn't the start of a downward spiral for your daughter. There have been several recent reports of erratic behavior on her part, and this most recent action is an escalation of those early warning signs. I hope that if there is something wrong with your daughter, then you are able to give her all the help she needs.

Yours,

Timothy O'Neill, English Department

Lawndale High School

XXXX

Linda Griffin crumpled the letter in her hand with a snarl and threw it at the trash can, missing by a wide margin. (Most likely due to the amount of alcohol she had been consuming). It had actually been her who had called in the request for Sandi's flogging; after all, that bitch Helen had been getting after her more and more for Sandi apparently leading her precious little ginger astray, and like the old saying went, shit rolled downhill.

As she took yet another slug from the bottle of vodka usually reserved for Tom's martinis, she allowed herself to wonder just what the hell had gotten into Sandi lately. She'd asked her daughter repeatedly, but the little snot kept insisting she'd hit her head and forgotten what fashion was. Sandi was either lying, or was stupider than Linda had thought, and she'd never had a high opinion on her daughter's intellect to begin with. Maybe if she took away Sandi's car, she'd straighten up and fly right.