I don't own One Tree Hill or any of the Characters or Flashbacks, just my plot.
Peyton laughed as she thought of them: Nathan and Lucas. Both so different, yet in a way the same. She had liked Nathan for awhile, and she had loved Lucas. What she really needed to know, though, was which one had fathered her child. She didn't figure that she would figure that out any time soon, though. Leaving Tree Hill was the hardest thing she ever had to do, but it was necessary. Her baby girl wasn't going to go through any of the same things she went through. It was a girl; she was sure of it by the way she kicked and just the way Peyton felt. Mothers are supposed to protect their daughters, and protect her daughter from a place like this with slutty girls, confusing guys, and way too much drama she would.
"Miss Sawyer, I'm happy to tell you that your daughter has arrived into the world safely." Peyton looked down at the delicate little thing before her. With hair already curling and a nose just like mommy's own, she also carried her father's eyes. Now she knew for sure which one it was. "She's beautiful," She whispered, a smile curling on her lips. "Yes, she is," a young nurse said, gently handing Peyton the fragile little life to hold. "I promise you, I'm going to be the best mother I know how, and I'll never leave you like people left me," Peyton murmured into her daughter's downy mop of curls. She sighed, looking at the little life partly her, and partly him... too bad he would never know his own daughter. Or was it? The world didn't need a Dan Scott Jr.
She woke up in the middle of the night when the night nurse came in to take her blood pressure and vital stats. The woman was old with long, grey hair, snappy green eyes, and a New York accent. "I'm sorry ya have ta go through this alone. Men are all alike, ya know. Every day practically we get a case just like yours. Do ya see those men coming around, ownin' up to their responsibilities? You certainly don't! What did ya decide to name that sweetie?" The young mother looked up with confusion in her eyes. "They didn't give me the birth certificate..." she said, just as a young intern rushed in. "Sorry you didn't get the birth certificate. It's been crazy today with three deliveries and five miscarriages. Just fill out the form, please, and I'll be out of your hair." She proudly took the clipboard from the intern and filled out the first line: Anna Michelle Sawyer. She bit her lip at the next line: Father......
"Anna, I have to drop you off at school in thirty minutes before going to my meeting with my art publicist!" Anna bit her right index fingernail while she threw clothes out of her closet, searching for a specific top. "I know, mom, but I really need to find this shirt! If I don't wear it to try-outs, I won't make a good impression, and if I don't make a good impression, than I won't make the team, and if I don't make the team, I won't be popular!" Peyton sighed. Sometimes she didn't know where her daughter got these qualities. As she made her way into her daughter's room and over to her closet, she smiled at the sight of her daughter: perfectly put together, showing off all her best features and downsizing all her worst, looking ready for school just the way she was. In one motion, Peyton opened up the closet and tugged the shirt off the rack. "Mom, you're the greatest!" Anna sighed in relief. "Come one, let's get going to school, sweetie," the mother said while putting her arm around her already-changed daughter.
Anna looked out the car window as she and her mother drove to school. She loved living in this small, secluded town in North Carolina. It was only four hours away from her mother's birthplace, but her mom would never let her go there. It was okay, though; she figured her mom would've let her go if she really needed to be there. All her mom had told her was that her father lived there, and apparently her mother didn't have very fond memories of him. All she really cared about right now, though, was passing chemistry and making the cheerleading squad. Today would either make or break her reputation, and even though she felt horrible about defecting and becoming a cheerleader, so unlike the way she was inside, she knew she had to do this for herself and her best friend in the world.
"Did you know that there are men in India who can stop their heartbeat for approximately five minutes?" chirped an irritating voice behind her. Anna whirled around, trying to maintain her composure. "Look, Brent, I think it's really great that you know all this stuff and that you want to talk to me, but I have a lot I need to focus on right now, so I would appreciate it if you would just give it a rest for today." "Annie, when are you going to admit that you have feelings deeper than friendship for me, and realize that these childish games aren't getting us anywhere?" If he calls me Annie one more time I will kick his butt, she thought silently. "We need to be focusing on our chemistry right now," was all that came out of her mouth. "Whatever you say, honey. I mean, I can wait, since we're only sixteen." She turned around and shook her head, starting in on her chemistry notes again.
"All right, ladies. I see that you're all in proper attire: sports shoes, shorts, and tank tops or t-shirts. Most of you think of this as a popularity booster, but this is a sport, and we will be drilling constantly. If you don't like it, you can leave. If you feel like complaining, you can kiss your sorry little chances at actually getting through try-outs goodbye," the coach said. Anna practically shuddered with excitement. The competition looked fierce, but she could deal with it. She must get the competitive side from her dad. I wish he could be here, she though sadly. "Line up by the basketball hoop and have a basketball in hand. This is imperative if you want to join the team." Maybe she thinks we need to know the game we're cheering for or something, Anna though to herself.
"Each of you will be required to make ten free throws from the line. You don't have to make them, this is just for my evaluation." Anna was last in line; she liked being last so that she could make an impact. After the other fifteen girls had gone, she walked up. All of her shots went in simultaneously with a clean swish. Everyone stood back in awe. No one else had been able to do that; the next best was seven out of ten. "Where did you learn how to do that?" the coach asked quietly. "Nobody ever really taught me," she answered truthfully. "I mean, my mom taught me how to shoot when I was really little once at a family reunion, but that's it." She didn't understand why everyone was so silent, but that sound was all that met her.
After the next thirty minutes of basketball drills, Anna got worried. She was always kind of slow, but she knew something wasn't quite right. She jogged over to the coach during the water break. "Excuse me, but when do we start the cheerleading drills?" she said timidly. "Honey, this is basketball. There are no cheerleading drills," the coach said with a smirk. "Umm, I thought this was cheerleading. I've never been the first to catch on. I'm sorry for wasting your time." She started to walk away when the coach called out "Wait! You mean to tell me that after only having handled a basketball a few times in your life and thinking this was cheerleading, you made those ten free-throws?" "Well yeah, can't everybody?" she asked. Her mom had always said basketball was just about the easiest sport ever and anybody could play it. "No, everybody can't, and you're on my team whether you like it or not. I'm actually surprised. Usually our school P.E. teachers do talent searches for possible athletes for the teams." Anna walked home from school after try-outs.
She found her mom sitting in the living room sketching a picture of Anna with pom-poms and a cheerleading uniform on. She still loved to sketch when she wasn't working on her "serious" projects, and Anna was her favorite subject. "So how were the big cheerleading try-outs?" her mom asked in a mock-serious tone as she put her sketch pad and pencil down. Anna stalked over to her, throwing her bag on the floor. "So when were you going to tell me mom, huh? I accidentally ended up in basketball try-outs, and apparently I'm one of the best players the coach has ever seen. She was shocked when I told her I'd only picked up a basketball a couple times in my life. Why, mom? That's all I want to know. And why was I always sick on the days the P.E. teachers scouted out the good basketball players?" Peyton Sawyer exhaled sharply. "Anna, you have to understand, there were reasons, and I thought I was protecting you." "Protecting me from what? From being good at something? From being like dad?" Her mom's face immediately turned white. "Don't you ever talk about him again, young lady," she whispered. "We had an agreement. Before you start your senior year of high school, I'll tell you everything you need to know. Any questions or comments you have will have to wait." "That's not good enough mom. If you won't give me answers, I'm gonna go looking for them. Luckily for me, tonight if Friday, and Alyssa has her license." After her daughter walked out of the room, Peyton put her head in her hands and cried like she hadn't cried since her daughter was born sixteen years ago. Where had she gone wrong?