AN: I hope this fixes Brooke a little bit better. She really isn't that bad. After reading this, I hope you understand why. I LOVE IT WHEN YOU GUYS REVIEW!!! THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO DID ALREADY! Please continue to R&R!

Chapter 11: A Date With A Donkey

Brooke's POV

So tonight has been one hell of a night. My date with Lucas was a complete catastrophe. Why is it that I'm like a freak magnet? I attract the weirdest people ever. I must say that I am not picky; I just have these little things that annoy me. And he seemed to be doing all of them. I even figured out a list of mistakes on his part.

1. He kept looking over his shoulder (how weird is that?)

2. He brought me to a lame party (no offense, Jake)

3. He ignored me the whole night (jackass)

4. Whenever he looked at me, I had this weird swooning feeling (Brooke Davis doesn't swoon, she fcuks. Thus, I blame him for making me swoon.)

5. He refused me. (HE REFUSED ME! ME, BROOKE DAVIS, HAS JUST BEEN TURNED DOWN!)

6. He didn't talk to me the ride home (dick)

7. He went to his room and shut the door (sh!thead)

8. I had to make a list because the date was HORRIBLE! (fcukhead)

9. No good night kiss (ass)

10. No good night hug (ass)

11. No 'I'll call you' (granted, we live in the same house, but still—ass)

12. AND I MUST REPEAT AGAIN, HE REFUSED ME!

Ok so there are twelve reasons. Tonight was the worst night ever, bar none. I am so upset. And frustrated, too. Not just sexually, but I am actually frustrated. What is so wrong with me? Why didn't he want me?

I heaved myself into my room and slammed the door shut. Of course the slam of the door colliding on the wooden edge made my room quiver, but no one woke up. No one cared. Aghh I feel like I'm below rock bottom. It's like there's rock bottom, shit land, hell, and then me...

I opened my closet slowly and looked at my clothes. I tore off my white transparent blouse and pulled on some PJs. Aww they feel good. This is sad. The most pleasure I have had tonight was putting on my fluffy fleece PJs. I am pathetic. Pathetically sad.

I'm probably going to end up like that crazy lady in the neighborhood. The one with all the cats, but no man. No man. Because no man wants her or me.

Why does rejection hurt? It feels like someone has just pressed an iron on my throat. I can't breathe. Asphyxiation is taking over and my blood feels so blue. A giant painful lump in my throat sends a searing pain down my nerves. I just collapse on my bed and let the pain wash over me. I indulge in how the pain brings reality back and inches its way over my body. My mind hurts, my heart hurts... worst of all, my throat really hurts.

I quickly get up and run to the bathroom. I hold my hair back as I fall to the bathroom's floor and throw up in the toilet, splashing the disgusting crap all around. The pain just keeps throbbing. It won't die down. So I keep throwing up, hacking the pain out.

Finally, it stopped. I got up and looked at the mirror. I turned the faucet on and dipped my hands into the cool crisp water. Gently, I made little ripples and twirled my fingers around feeling the freshness linger. I rubbed the water on my face. I scrubbed the make up off and scratched my face. Then I looked up at the mirror.

As I stared at the person in front of me, my mouth opened in amazement. Amazement at what I had become. Underneath the cakings of make up and the slinky outfits, I was a broken girl. Without the make up, I could plainly see that after years of whoring myself around, I was still the little girl. I was still the girl at the park with no friends to play with. I was still the girl with the things people would kill for, but I had no one who really mattered. I was the girl standing in the shadows, just watching the others.

I had always been her, but I had just smothered that girl. I had tried to cover her from sight. But here she was staring back at me, more sad than ever.

Not many people know the real Brooke Davis. Peyton knows only half of the truth, that's half more than everyone else.

When I was little, no one cared about me. I had created a cheerful world to live in. That's why I was happy. I didn't need to think about my problems, I just ignored them. Let me tell you how great that worked out....

I didn't want to be fake anymore. I had put up an act. An act where I was a cheerleader, a bitch, and a dumba$$.

I was going to be who I had to be. Not many people know the real me. The real me who has a 4.1 GPA and who is ranked 4 in the class. The real me who volunteers as a Big Sister at the community center. The real me who cries...

Usually I would cover the real me up. Whenever I got a test back and it was marked with a bright red A, I folded the paper and stuffed it in my leather bag. Whenever someone dropped by the community center, I would tell the kids to play hide n go seek. Whenever I cried in the school's bathroom stall, I would neatly replace my diminishing make up and reapply my mascara. But I was so tired of covering up now.

No. I was not going to be fake anymore. I wanted to be real and live how I wanted it to be lived. I wanted to be happy.

From now on I will no longer have sex with anyone, do drugs, drink into debt, or hide myself. No more of that stuff! Well, ok... I'll do it in moderation. But I refuse to whore myself anymore. No more sex until I am truly happy.

A genuine smile tugged at my face and I felt happy and proud. For once in my sucky life, I was making a promise to myself. I was going to do something for the better.

I jumped up with excitement and walked over to my cupboard to grab my vodka bottle. But then I stopped in my tracks; I couldn't do that. I had to be strong. I had to resist the urge.

"O how the alcohol would just glide over my tongue! O the temptation! O the vodka! The refreshing taste of hard liquor! O it is such a tempter!"

As I sang these lullabies, I quickly began to see the insanity of the situation. Hold up, was I just singing about alcohol? What is wrong with me?

"Ok, breathe in Brooke, breath. We can do this. It's just going to take an effort. Brooke can do this. She can also do this without referring to third person," I mutter.

I quickly resolved to finding a distraction; something had to stop me from salivating over the vodka. I plunged myself under the bed and searched for something.

"Aha!" I exclaim in triumph.

I brought out a diary, not just any diary though. It was an electronic personally interactive diary. I could talk to it and it would record my entries.

Hey, hey, hey. No rolling of the eyes at me and my diary. It's the advantage of having rich careless parents. The only advantage might I add...

I pressed the Start button and began my entry.

"Today, I have just discovered something really important. Like really important. But before I get into that, I need to give you a name. Hmm... How about Lucy? Like I Love Lucy, o my god that show is the best. Apart from the black and white thing, I totally dig it. So Lucy, my night has been weird. Like I said I discovered something. First, I should probably tell you the whole shing ding.

So here I was really really excited. After all, I had just got a date with the hot new guy. For confidentiality purposes, let's call him Jackass. So I liked Jackass, well I liked his body. He was new to the town and came to live with my fam. So of course, I wanted to get some. Like his ass would fit really good in my... well you get the idea, right?

So he's hot, but—well he and his friend (known as Bitch for confidentiality purposes, I'll tell you more about her later) are tight. Like real tight, but they are "friends." She's not ugly or anything, so it got me thinking. Could he be gay? Like no offense to the whole boy-girl best friend idea, but cmon. Get real, peeps. That sorta stuff is made of fluff (Lucy, excuse the rhyme).

Anyways, Jackass took me to a party. I mean, that's ok, but it was our first date. He should at least spend the mandatory amount. Dinner and a movie. That's all I'm asking for, but noooooo. He decided to be a cheap bastard.

So Lucy (hmm... we need a name change. How about I call you Polly, like Polly Pocket.) He takes me to the party and is all oogly eyed at how hot I am (he just couldn't deny the hotness when it is just too hot). But the whole time, he was shifty. He kept on looking behind his back, like someone might stick a knife in there. (I was thinking about it, but it's just not my revenge style)

So the question is why. Why was he acting all ooo-look-at-me-I'm-a-spy- wannabe? (once again, Polly, excuse the rhyme.) He wore black too. And sunglasses. Like he was Shaft. Aghh!

So with the outrageously bad fashion taste, he also brought all these gadgets. Like beeping things. You know, those beepers and palm pilot stuff. But it was so much more shinier. Ok, I sound like an idiot, but it was shiny. Like tin foil.

Anyways, here I am, trying to screw him. You know, like do the required rituals that must be done before he takes off his Shaft-wear and I bend over.

So I go and get the drinks. Of course, I get the usual perverted comments from the football players and those white "gangstahs," but I expected him to defend me or wrap his big hands around that guy's throat. Didn't happen.

All he did was watch the damn place. And ignore me. He didn't even look at other girls. Or guys for that matter. (So there goes my homosexual theory out the window.)

Before the party got heated up, I took him outside. I just couldn't take it. I have never ever been ignored this much. Even my mom looks at me to criticize once in awhile. But no! He sits there watching people behind his Shaft-glasses. Jackass.

So I enveloped my hand neatly into his and felt all these sparks. O Polly, it was just like the movies! Minus the guy reciprocating my feelings.

I even thought he felt it too. His eyes glowed and he was breathing heavily. But then he let go of my hand like it was freezer burn. Yep, I just compared the most amazing touching experience (outside of the bedroom chambers, that is) to that nasty crap on over-iced meat.

So we just stood outside. He, being distant and cold, was also quiet. Me, being usually perky and flirtatious, was the opposite. The exact opposite.

After 10 minutes of the mind numbing silence, I just jerked him awake and led him to his car. Once we got in, I dragged him by his collar to the backseat and took off my blouse. He just sat there and stared. After a good long oogling session, he decided to make a move. And I mean, he decided to TALK. Aghh!

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to have sex."

He sat there with his hands in his lap. He looked like he was thinking hard.

"Ok, Lucas (um, I mean Jackass) it's just sex, not a missile launch."

"Look, you are great and all, but I don't want to... have sex. I mean, I do. But—"

"But not with me?" (I swear, I was about to cry)

"No, I—I don't want to hurt you."

"... Could you just take me home?"

I have never been so hurt in my life. Rejected flat out. I couldn't even look at him. Polly, it felt like he slapped me across the face.

And that is why he is called Jackass. And I wish I could torture him. Like chop off his genitals. After all, castration is the best way to painfully hurt a guy's manhood. Both figuratively and literally speaking.

Thus, I was left to cry a flood. And then throw up. And then come to a resolution.

Polly Pocket, I have just decided something that could alter my life for the better.

I have officially given up drugs and alchohol. Well, not giving up per say. Just, taking it in moderation. No more over usage.

And the biggest decision is that I won't have sex until I am happy. Really happy.

I want my life back and I want to be real again. I want to wake up and not pretend to be a dumb slut. I can now be a smart slut minus the relentless whoring around.

This is a big big BIG day in the history of Brooke Davis, it should even be noted in Tree Hill history.

I am going to go into school tomorrow and act compassionate and smart. I will raise my hand up and answer a teacher's question. I will prove those people wrong!

Wow, I have never felt so pumped up in my life. I could seriously use a good cheer parade. I have way too much energy.

I looked down at my hand, only to see it grasping a can of Red Bull.

Sh!t! Polly, I just had a whole can of Red Bull! It's 2 am and I can't sleep! O well, peace out Polly.

I threw the electronic diary under my bed. Those psychologists were onto something. Talking helps. I guess, talking to yourself is not supposed to though. It really isn't the first sign of insanity. O well, I welcome insanity to my crash course life.

I slowly get up and put a random CD into my boombox. Apparently the volume was up high. It boomed throughout the entire floor level, waking everyone up. Well, who ever was sleeping.

Then someone banged my door.

"Brooke, turn off that fcuking music!" Peyton screamed. God, I just love her.

"Shut up bitch!" I yelled back. Hey, why not join the sisterly act. She busted inside, her face red and plastered with a green facial mask.

"I'm trying to sleep. Turn it off and go to bed!"

"O stop acting like mom. You know there's a reason why our parents are never home. Know what it is?"

"For idiots to bring our house down to a crumbling downfall with the use of ear-splitting music and deaf-inducing noise?"

"No, silly! To do whatever we want."

"Brooke we're not in middle school anymore. Staying up late is no longer cool."

"Never said it was Peyt, but wait... are you mad you're missing your beauty sleep," I taunted her. She would never admit to beauty sleeping, but I know she does it. She goes all out when she sleeps. She puts the cucumber slices over her eyes, and the green exfoliating mask. So right now, Peyton is standing in front of me with a green-slash-red face. Looks like Christmas.

"Whatever Brookes. I just wanna sleep. Tonight was really bad at the party."

"Why what happened? I thought you and Jake were hitting it off."

"We were, but then some guy came in and pulled out a gun and a bomb and all this sh!t."

"Never a dull moment in Tree Hill, huh?"

"You can say that again."

"So what happened?"

"Well a guy named Tim stopped him and then... umm.. this girl stopped the bomb," she said with rather shifty eyes. If I didn't know Peyt better, I would say she's hiding something from me.

"Did ya call the police?"

"Agh you know that Tree Hill police are the most incompetent force alive."

"True."

"I'm heading off to bed," Peyton yawned suddenly and abruptly left.

"O ok," I mumbled.

I was a lil disappointed that Peyt left. Sometimes I think she's hiding something from me. Maybe it's about her past. I know she hates talking about it. I'm the only one whoever actually learned about her mysteriously messed up past.

Most people don't like her, but she just doesn't give a sh!t. That's what I like about her. She shows all the strength that I failed to ever do. She acts like herself; she's not fake. It makes me wonder why she's friends with me. I'm so fake. But she knows the real me. She can see through the layers. I guess people don't like her because of that. They just don't want to be exposed.

More people don't even know the simple facts about her. They only know she's my best friend. They don't know that Peyton Smith is adopted and hates everyone else named Smith. Including that bitch named Joanne Smith.

She's a great person and I hoped she would stay to hear my revelation. So here I was bursting with such anticipation that I wanted to just scream "I will not whore my self out." But then I thought Jackass might hear me...

To be honest, I wasn't surprised by the bomb scare. This town is so screwed up, I'm always expecting this sort of stuff. Hell, yesterday someone went streaking through the whole town and got arrested for "obscene presentation of ones self." The other day, someone let loose the whole dog/cat pound and the town was literally raining cats and dogs. I stole a couple.

I scrambled my ass up and headed to the only door where I could possible have some girl talk. The only other girl in our house. Who speaks English.

My hand knocked on the white wooden door and it opened with ease. Sitting on the bed with her headphones on and snacking away at Cheetos was Haley.

Ok sure, she seems a little standoffish. I have a good feeling she isn't fond of me. And I don't like her either. But I need girl talk.

Her head popped up and she immediately stopped her CD player and ruffled the CD and papers away from my view. I arched my eyebrow, but ignored her previous action. I shrugged my shoulders and leaned against the doorway.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could... umm... talk," I stammered. Usually, I don't try to talk to people who hate me. But today is different. Or should I say tonight is different, being how its 2:30 am.

"O yeh... sureee," Haley replied while eyeing me strangely.

"So did ya like the party?" I asked while leaning harder onto the doorway.

"Yeh, I met a guy there... remember those two guys who made that grand entrance we failed to do?"

"O don't tell me you're knocking them both," I teased as I made my way to sit on her bed.

"Nahhh... The one named Nathan is already claimed," she smiled. Wow she's actually happy and smiling. While talking to me. Now that's amazing.

"So what dya guys do?"

"He took me out of the party and we walked and talked. It was so sweet."

"Can't say the same about your friend," I mumble.

"Why what happened?" she asked with true concern.

"He... It's just so complicated," I breathed. It really was. Plus, I don't want to tell her for 2 reasons. One, she is close with the enemy. Two, I don't know her.

"That's Luke for ya," she said reassuringly. I looked at her face as she said it, and I saw this guilty look flash by, but it disappeared quickly.

"Well, I know I'm no better. I just wanted to use him and sweep him fast."

"Did you?"

"No, he didn't want to."

"Really?"

"Yeah... and it's just that... at one point, I felt something. Like something so real and special, but he just doesn't feel it. Story of my life, girl wants guy, guy doesn't want girl."

There was a dead silence that just sucked into the air and absorbed all the noise. I felt my ears pounding and at a point, I started to hear things. You know, like its so silent, but then you hear things like an air vent. But the creepy silence was broken by Haley.

"Brooke... don't get hung up over one guy. Lucas, he's nothing special... Well, being his best friend, there's nothing that I find particularly special in an attractive way. Our friendship is platonic all the way. Anyways, I just don't think it's right for a girl to get depressed over some idiot who acts like a dog."

I smile lightly and reply to this piece of advice.

"No, he acts like Shaft," I laugh.

"O my god, that is true," she said while thinking about it.

"But you're right. That's why I am giving up sex for a while."

"You're giving up sex because of Lucas?!?"

"No, I just don't wanna be that girl anymore. Tell me the truth, when you met me, did you thing I was a stupid slut?"

"Well, ummm—"

"Just tell the truth."

"God, I thought you were the biggest bag of hoe this side of the globe. And boy, did I think you were the definition of ditz. And—"

"Ok that's enough," I say before you starts listing.

"Sorry, I got carried away."

"It's ok, people always assume. That's why I just can't keep up with the façade anymore."

"So lemme guess, you're the supposedly stupid cheerleading whore, who is really a smart care bear?"

"More or less," I laughed.

"I should've known," Haley sarcastically said.

"Yeah, I'm a little confusing."

"I know that much."

"But, cmon. I didn't want to boast around that my real dream job is to become a nuclear chemist."

"You wanna be a nuclear chemist?!?"

"Been my dream since I learned to read. But I just told people I wanted to model."

"Model!?!"

"Yeah... I know that was way far off from the real deal, but I had to tell them something."

"But why hide from people? Why all the secrets?"

"I guess I wasn't ready to deal with the real me. Besides, I'm not the only one with secrets."

"Yeah," Haley said as she brushed her hair.

"Looks like the Red Bull is starting to wear off... Goodnight," I yawned. I stood up and went over to the doorway.

"Wait, Brooke..." Haley said quickly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad for you. And about Lucas, don't worry about him. He's never had it right with girls, he always just had messed up relationships. Give him time."

"Yeah.... I guess you're right."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I mumble as I close her door.

Well that went alright. I actually expected her to go all bitchy. But she's didn't. Maybe she's not so bad.

I walked down the hall and opened the door. As it creaked open, my eyes quickly shifted to the masculine body sitting on my bed. He quickly stood up in an instant and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. He looked down at the floor as if he was embarrassed.

"What are you doing here Lucas?" I asked getting mad.

"I—I um... came here to—uh talk to you... Tonight was—"

"Wrong. I shouldn't have came onto you. It was my fault," I said quickly. I didn't want to hear him apologize. It just made the fresh cut wound sting even more. I felt the lump rise up in my throat.

Lucas looked long and hard at me. Like he was trying to figure something out. I looked down at the floor.

"Yeah, you're right..." he whispered as he inched closer to me. Then he took my hands and looked into my eyes. Reflexively, I stole my hands away and tore the eye contact apart.

"Goodnight," I said coldly. He looks shocked, hurt, and rejected. I almost want to wipe those expressions away with a kiss, but I hold back.

"Goodnight," he mumbled.

He walked out of the room, leaving me to collapse onto the bed. I grabbed my electronic diary and fumbled with the buttons to make a new entry. Tears poured down my cheeks, but I started my babble without any trouble whatsoever.

"Dear Dolly or Molly or whatever your name is. Life sucks. Jackass just walked in and looked so... sincere and almost like he... cared. I wish he would just disappear or even better die. I wish death upon him! He tried to talk about it, apologize and crap. But everyone knows that sorry doesn't mean sh!t. It's the most useless thing to say. Just a stupid meaningless statement..."

I stop the entry and throw the diary across the room onto my couch. I rolled over into my bed and pulled the sheets closer to my body. I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 am.

Unfortunately, the Red Bull kicked back in and haunted me. The energy drink should be outlawed in all 50 states and then some. Cursing the magically energizing drink, I pulled the comforter over my head and closed my eyes tightly, hoping that my resolution would change my life for the better. And that I wouldn't quit first thing tomorrow when I see Lucas.