Part 9
Buffy shivered slightly as she shoved her things into the locker. The weather had gotten chilly since it had started to rain. She pulled out a jumper from her bag and slipped it on, carefully making sure not to mess up the high ponytail she'd only just finished putting up. **Shit. I'll probably have to take this off later... Oh well, I'll get Gunn to mind it for me. He'll just be sitting in the bleachers all on his lonesome anyway. He really, really needs a life.**
Buffy smiled to herself as she followed the other girls out to the gymnasium where the cheerleading squad were supposed to gather whenever the weather turned nasty. Not that that happened very often, of course. She waved discreetly to Gunn, who had shown up promptly and had already taken a front-row seat in the bleachers. A few other spectators were seated all over the bleachers, but not much more than a dozen.
Buffy spotted Cordelia out of the corner of her eye. The brunette was carrying a large cardboard box in her arms, with another girl following with a similar box in her own arms. On each box, the letter 'U' was written in thick, black permanent marker.
**Uh-huh. Just as 'A' is for 'apple', 'U' is for 'uniforms'...fun.**
Excited cheerleaders gathered around Cordelia whispering among themselves. Buffy felt herself being yanked by the arm through the crowd by persons unknown; someone who had very deadly fingernails. Buffy was about to scream for Gunn's help, but was surprised to find that it had been Cordelia, dragging her to the front.
Buffy felt like the first-place-winning pumpkin pie at a county fair, the way those girls were staring at her with wide eyes. Obviously some of them had only heard the rumours and not seen the real-deal yet and were shaken up by, well, her presence.
"Could everyone please gather around?" Cordelia called out to those spread around the gym, tying their shoes, drinking sports drinks or whatnot. She clapped her hands loudly to draw their attention (and almost deafening Buffy with the snappish loudness—an amazing feat, since Buffy had been exposed to high decibels of screaming many times before). **Great, just what I need. I should've listened to Giles... Hey! Why the hell did I just think that? I never listen to Giles. AT least, not as a rule.**
"For those who didn't show up to help out at the tryouts yesterday," Cordelia said pointedly, "Buffy tried out and blew us all away with her performance. And I believe that the people who were in charge of the music and choreography are a bit on the embarrassed side," Cordelia joked, rousing laughter from those who understood. "So, the point is, we have the best of the best, so we're gonna kick ass this year!"
The team cheered as Buffy smiled awkwardly. **Oh yay...now I feel like an instrument of their supremacy. Great. Just what I wanted out of this experience...**
Cordelia sifted around one of the cardboard boxes, successfully pulling out a clipboard. On the clipboard was a list of names on a grid. "Okay, calm down everyone. We have to have roll call before we can hand out our brand, spanking, new uniforms."
Chatter rose from the girls again.
"Oh, and by the way, they'll cost you. And did I mention that we only have 3 sizes? Extra small, small and medium."
*****
Angel stared forlornly at the downpour. It was too far to walk, definitely too long to wait out, and too much of a hassle to call someone. Not to mention embarrassing. Plus, his mobile didn't have any reception. Angel kept busy by wandering the not-so-empty halls of the school, occasionally passing people who were also stranded in the sudden rainstorm, wasting their time away.
Angel rounded the corner (something he had wished to take back), passing two girls having a heated discussion on the sale at Nordstrom's. His body collided with that of Darla's. She seemed to have been looking someone—probably him.
"Darla," he stated flatly. "Looking for me, I suppose?"
"I've been looking for you all day! I asked every single person on the team if they'd seen you and then when I went where they said, you weren't there," Darla said, bouncing and gesturing as she spoke. She was typical Californian airhead. The only thing separating her from the 'in' crowd at SHS was the size of Daddy's wallet; or in her case, Mommy's.
Darla's father had left her mother for an 18-year-old stripper from a bar in the bad side of town called 'The Cheetah'. Darla had been in there once when she had fallen into a drunken stupor after a particularly wild party. As expected, the bar's patrons were old businessmen, some cheating on their wives, some were just horny. What gave Darla's stomach the heave-ho, was the lovely faux cheetah fur used on all the chairs, sofas and even parts of the walls.
Darla's mother hadn't been sober in eight years. But then again, she was hardly ever sober before her bastard of a husband had left either.
"I was on detention," Angel bluffed.
"Then why do I get the impression that you're avoiding me?" Darla asked suspiciously. She narrowed her eyes at him, inspecting his every movement and reaction.
"Now why would you think that?"
"I know what your mother and her little country club friends think of me," she spat out. She stepped closer and made eye contact with him. She had always thought that she had been a good judge of character. Of course, Darla's beliefs were dashed when her "beloved" father had left her on her own with her mother. From that day on, she had learnt quickly not to trust anyone.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Angel said, resting his hands on both her slim shoulders, partly to keep her a safe distance from himself, and partly to restrain her from inflicting any pain on him whatsoever. He had heard that the girl had a hand and a mouth like a crack whip. Not exactly very good imagery, but it had taught him to be careful of the Little Girl Who Cried 'Rapist'. A nickname given to her by Larry, after an...incident. The case had been dismissed because they had no evidence at all. No witnesses, no nothing.
"Okay, the why do I get the feeling that you're lying to me?" Darla asked, indignantly planting her hands on her slim hips.
"I'm not, okay? What made you even think that?" Angel asked innocently, reining in the sarcasm that was threatening to escape.
"Make it up to me, then. Bronze. Date. 8 o'clock sharp," Darla said, giving him a peck on the cheek and strode off, leaving Angel no room for objection.
**Why do I always get myself into shit like this? Stupid rain—it's all your fault. Great, now Darla's literally driving me insane.**
He sighed. What was he going to do now? Study date with Buffy or a date with the ever-wretched Darla...what a stumper. The only problem being that stupid bet. He would prove them wrong, that was for sure. Maybe he could be super nice, so it'd seem as if he was dumping her for the sake of it, when the time came around for the dumping to occur. The victory would be...bliss. **Nah. She'd probably have me shot.**
Angel quickly stole a glance through a nearby classroom's window; it was still raining rather heavily outside. Suddenly, he heard a quiet burst of music playing—it was oh, so soft—coming from a distance. Angel estimated that the noise was coming from the school gymnasium. What the hell was it? There were sounds of sneakers squeaking as they ran along the basketball court, but not really in a hurried way. So, it wasn't who he thought it could've been...then who was it?
**Of course! Cheerleading practice! How could I forget? I missed the tryouts yesterday, might as well go today...** Angel hurried towards the sound of the music. It wasn't long until he got inside and found the same black guy that he had seen Buffy kiss the day before, watching the girls with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. He was seated at the very top of the bleachers and looked as if he were checking the girls out; either that or he was checking out Buffy. In a brand new, short-skirted, tight-shirted SHS cheerleading uniform. Angel snapped out of it and raised his hand to his chin, absently checking for traces of drool. He almost tripped over his own feet as he walked. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't as bad as it was going to be...
"Angel! How nice of you to drop by!" Cordelia exclaimed, waving him over. What was he going to do? He couldn't very well run away. **Of all the luck. Darla AND Cordelia in the space of only two minutes.**
Angel smiled sheepishly and shrugged, trying to keep a calm composure. "Wouldn't miss it." He shoved his hands in his pockets. It just got a heck of a lot colder in there. Not to mention the disturbing number of girls who seemed as if they were just about ready to lick their lips. The only person who he hadn't caught the attention of was Buffy. **Ha. How am I ever going to have a chance with her if she doesn't even notice me? Not dismissing the fact that she already has an older, reliable-looking boyfriend. Am I reliable-looking?**
"Well it's always a pleasure when *you* drop by," Cordelia flirted shamelessly. Three years and counting, and she still hadn't gotten the picture. Angel was beginning to suspect that maybe the girl didn't have a brain at all, let alone half.
"No need to flatter me. How's it going ladies?" Angel asked the rest of the team, eagerly turning his attention away from Cordelia. She shrugged at the brush-off. Denial could sometimes be the best medicine—something she didn't really have much experience with actually.
A chorus of positive answers fluttered from left to right (as did the batting of eyelashes).
"Really? Well I won't interrupt any further. Please, continue." Angel settled on a place in the very front row—a good vantage point to observe Buffy from—and quickly found that shaking Cordelia off his leg was much, much harder than with Darla. Not that he was a novice at that either.
"So...do you have plans tonight?" Cordelia asked, flashing him the brightest smile she could possibly flash. She played with the hem of her skirt, purposely exposing more and more flesh. Angel felt like puking. Enough with the come-ons. And the fake tan.
"Yeah, I actually have two things going on. I don't know which one I'll end up going to," Angel answered truthfully.
"Sounds...busy. But remember, if you can't decide, I'll be at the Bronze." Cordelia finally left him alone, turning with a flick of her hair and (in Angel's opinion) a not-so-seductive sway in her hips. They had grown up together; all through elementary school and junior high, Cordelia had been...that snobby girl that you always had to talk your friend out of getting involved with. The thought of the two of them, dating, was enough to make Angel's stomach turn upside down and tie itself into a fancy knot.
"Buffy's it is then..."
*****
Buffy had been watching him from across the room, inspecting his flickering gaze when she thought he wasn't looking and making sure not to make eye contact with him.
If she did, she didn't think she'd be able to stop.
Buffy bent over to fix her shoelaces; they had become undone while they were practising the basic cheers. As she tied the offending laces, she peeked—as inconspicuously as she could—under her arm.
Her gaze connected with his.
The first word that came to her head? Magic.
There was something about his eyes, even from such a distance that she felt attracted to. Like a magnetic field she couldn't escape however much she tried to.
"Buffy?" Cordelia's annoyed voice interrupted her temporary freeze-frame. "Are you ready yet?"
Buffy finished tying her shoes and nodded. She'd tried and tried but she could not find a single endearing quality in the bitch at all. **Meow...** She didn't seem to respect or even *like* anyone except herself. And Angel, but he obviously wasn't interested. **He has a girlfriend anyway. I'm sure they're just having a rough spot... Don't kid yourself anymore, Buffy, he's...being an unreadable...guy...person.**
Buffy frowned and resumed her position. **What am I gonna do? Tie myself up to stop myself from coming onto to him? Maybe I should cancel...**
"5, 6, 7, 8," Cordelia counted audibly as the first bars of the song played. Some upbeat poppy music blared from the speakers once again; it was one of those songs that you liked the first two or three times you hear it and then find it irritating afterwards. They'd played it at least five or six times already and Buffy was just about ready to kick whoever it was that picked it.
Buffy tuned out the noise and moved without thinking, focusing on other—more important—things...well, a little bit more important (at the moment). **You idiot! You know he likes you. You're just afraid. Scaredy cat, scaredy cat! ...Great, now I have an inner voice?**
Not realising that it was already the end of the routine, Buffy continued, dancing obliviously. She improvised, with...what the hell? Buffy stopped.
"Oh my God! That looked so good!" One of the younger girls burst out.
Loud chatter erupted among the girls, only to be silenced once again by one Miss Bitch-of-a-Girl Chase. She clapped her hands, capturing the attention of the squad. They all stopped; not a single peep escaped a single one of the usually-loud girls' mouths. It was certainly a sight to behold.
"Fine, it looked good. But, unfortunately, the routine has to be a certain length. Sorry," Cordelia hid her satisfied smile. No one would dare defy her, she was sure of it. The power was...delectable. She'd tried to like Buffy, be nice to her and all, but...well... They just didn't click too well. However, Cordelia was determined to become friends with Buffy. This could be her only chance at international superstardom! **What am I talking about? I don't need help from HER. I can make it there all by myself!**
"Can we have a show of hands please?" A small voice asked from the back of the pack. "All in favour of leaving it the way it is?"
Cordelia found that she was the only one with her hand up. Buffy watched with a satisfied smile.
"All in favour of changing it?" Buffy asked.
They all raised their hands, including the whole group of Cordettes that had made it on the squad. Loyalty becoming an issue, Buffy could sense it. **Not that there's much loyalty there anyway. And I speak from experience.**
"Majority rules. It's getting a bit late, and there's a break in the storm," Buffy pointed out the sunshine pouring through the windows, "so I guess we'll work on it at the next practice."
They all cheered, and hurried to gather their stuff so that they could go home. Who knew how long the good weather would last for? It could be anywhere between 5 minutes to being the end of the storm altogether.
Buffy quickly made up her mind. Jogging towards Angel, she noticed he looked as if he was going to leave. Alone. "Wait! Angel!"
"What is it?"
"Um...about tonight..." Buffy started, but was interrupted abruptly by Gunn's coughing.
"Um...sorry, but I have...new, unexpected plans." Buffy bit her lip, "You understand, right?"
"Yeah, sure. I'm sure I'll...figure it out myself." Angel was disappointed. She was ditching him for her boyfriend, probably.
"You want a ride? Cos, we could just swing by your place cos it's so close..." Buffy suggested.
"No, it's okay. I can walk."
"But—" Buffy protested.
"It's. Okay." Angel said, emphasising each word.
"Well, then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Bye," Buffy said, and dragged Gunn off so he could wait outside the girls' locker room while she changed. **I'm an idiot...I sure am.**