Cordelia stood in the door to the guest bedroom. Matti was curled up in the arm chair, her feet tucked under her as she stared out the window. A book lay in her lap, a finger marking her place.
"Need anything?" the teacher asked when she noticed the girl in the door.
Cordelia tilted her head to one side. "What are you doing?"
Matti raised her eyebrows. "Thinking. Thinking about today, remembering being told that I was coming to some wide spot in the road in SoCal, that my cover was gym teacher and cheerleader coach." She chuckled. "All I knew about cheerleading was that we didn't have them at our games in high school and we did in college." She looked up at the ceiling. "Do you know how many books I read, how many phone calls I made, just to be able to fake it?" Her gaze dropped. "And here I am, coach of the district champs." She looked over at Cordelia. "And the weird part, the weird part, is that I'm proud of that."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Okay, I wasn't asking for a speech. I was wondering… could I use the equipment in the basement?"
"So, you finally found it."
"What do you mean, 'finally'?"
Matti uncoiled and put her feet on the floor. "Child, was the door locked? Was anything behind a secret panel? It's pretty out in the open. When did you go down there?"
Cordelia looked down at the floor. "When you were out on patrol. I was… mad, and I guess I just… anyway, I did go downstairs, and there's no reason for me to be in that foul storage room under the bleachers, when you've basically got an entire Bowflex catalog downstairs."
Matti made a great show of thinking about it. "Well, it would streamline things a bit, and the season will be over soon, so staying late after school every day will be harder to explain… Sure, why not?'
"Okay." Cordelia started to turn away, then stopped. "What are the long sticks?"
"Oh, those are bo sticks."
"Are they for fighting?"
"Yes."
Cordelia looked at a corner of the room. "Could you… would you teach me to use one?"
Matti smiled. "Sure, but be careful what you ask for. The heavy bag doesn't hit back."
The Volkswagen pulled into the driveway, and Buffy and Trey got out and walked to the porch. A thought had nagged the Slayer for the rest of the date: I can't even go out for one Saturday night without vampires. Under the porch light, she looked up at Trey. He had taken out the rubber band and shaken loose his hair. Buffy looked up at him, her enjoyment edged with bitterness.
"Trey," she said, "I have had a really, really nice time, not just tonight, but last week, too… but… remember when I said that my last relaysh came to a bad end?" He stared into her eyes and nodded. "Well," she said, "I just… I'm not looking for a steady boyfriend. Not now."
"Okay," he said. "That's cool."
Buffy frowned and blinked. "It is?"
"Yeah, I mean, I've had a blast, too. You're pretty great, but I'm not in the market either, I mean, especially with Dingoes going on the road."
"Wait, what?" The Slayer gave her head a quick shake. "Dingoes are what?"
Trey blew right past her befuddlement. "Yeah, the last couple of shows kinda convinced everybody, I mean, Devon's always been all about it, but since the show at the Bronze, and, really, after last night's show, I think everybody's in that we ought to give it a shot."
"Everybody? Oz knows about this?" The Slayer blinked.
"Oh, yeah, he's is, I mean, we're not stupid. The odds are against us, so we're only going out for a year, and if it doesn't work, we can get on with our lives, but, really, I don't think any of us want to look back and think 'coulda if we woulda', y'know?"
"Yeah," Buffy said slowly, her brain still on frizzle-fry. "I do. So… we're good?"
"Better than good. We're most excellent."
"Thanks." The Slayer bit her lip.
Trey nodded. "Listen, I'm gonna go, but I'll talk to you at school, and, if I see anything I think you'd like to go to, is it okay if I ask you about it?'
Buffy blinked and looked at him, almost as if she just now saw him. "Yeah, yeah. That would be… most excellent."
"Awesome." Trey jogged down the steps and turned back. "I guess I could be Ted, you could be Bill."
"Ew," Buffy said, grimacing. "That's not right, you get to be Keanu and I'm that little curly-haired troll guy."
"Too late." He spread his arms wide. "I'm the tall one, plus, you know, the hair."
"Okay." The Slayer laughed. "That's true."
"See you around."
"Yeah," she said as she opened the front door. "See you around."
"Somebody had a busy Sunday," Willow said, craning her neck to look at the banner draped over the entrance to the gym.
"Huh. Well, that's different." Xander tilted his head. "District cheerleading champs. Y'know, it's good to see a neglected group like the hot girls get some recognition for once."
"Uncool," Buffy said. "Those stunts are hard."
"Yeah. Don't make us shame you," Willow said.
"It wouldn't take much," Xander said. "My shame threshold is very high right now… or do I mean very low? Whatever, what I mean is that it doesn't take much to shame me these days."
"How's the arm?" Buffy asked as the quartet turned away from the trophy case.
"Itchy," Xander replied, "but most of the dead skin's gone, and then–" he held up his arm "-I do need to get some sun."
"Yeah," the Slayer deadpanned. "That's pretty pale."
"I'm actually kind of happy for Cordelia," Willow said.
"What are words I never thought I'd say for four hundred, Alex." Xander stuck his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and kicked at a pebble.
"Hey," Buffy said, "Cordy's been through a lot and, speaking as someone who's been through a lot, it's not nice to be a dick."
"You're certainly leaping to defend someone who hates your guts," Xander said.
The Slayer's lip curled as she shook her head. "She doesn't hate us. She's sad and hurt and scared. We're just close by."
"Plus," Willow pointed out, "she's making the classic mistake of confusing correlation with causation."
"Oh, is that what she's doing? My bad." Xander leaned forward to look around the two girls. "Oz, you're being particularly stoic, even for you." Oz responded by saying nothing in a most eloquent way.
"Well," Buffy said as they came to Mrs. Peterson's classroom, "this is my stop. See you at lunch."
The bell rang shortly after she settled into her desk, then the intercom crackled to life. "Students, this is your principal." The Slayer rolled her eyes; even through the wretched speaker, it was impossible to misidentify that adenoidal whine. "There will be an assembly seventh period to recognize our district champion cheerleading team." There was a brief squeal of feedback as the announcement terminated. Mrs. Peterson cast an annoyed look at the intercom, then turned to the class.
"All right, everybody, today we are exploring the exciting world of the endocrine system, otherwise known as your hormones, so look alive."
"Wonder how long the assembly will last," Xander mused, picking at his lunch. "Think it'll take all hour?"
"That'd be an awfully long awarding," Willow replied.
"Maybe every cheerleader will hold the trophy, and they'll pass it from hand to hand, like the Stanley Cup," Xander said.
"Yeah, that'll take a full, what, ten minutes?" Buffy gave him a dubious look. "Eat your green beans."
"Oh, thank God," Xander exhaled. "I thought these were french fries that had gone moldy." He stood up. "I think I'm officially done. Anyone want me to return their tray?"
"I'll never look that gift horse in any part of its anatomy," the Slayer said, handing her plate to him. He sauntered off toward the return window. Oz collected Willow's tray and headed in the same direction.
"Okay," Willow said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "tell me about Saturday night."
Buffy shrugged and made a no-big-deal face. "It was fun. We went to see the art, the art was seen, we had a great burger, and I killed a vampire."
"Oh, no!" Willow bit her lip. "Did Trey…?
"No, he was none the wiser. I was able to cover by saying I had to go to the bathroom."
Willow shook her head. "That always works. Why is that?" She glanced over her shoulder. Xander and Oz were still waiting for the window. "So, what's next?"
Buffy looked down at her folded hands, then back up at her friend. "I told him that I wasn't ready for a relationship and he said that was okay, he's not looking either."
"Huh?" Willow slumped back in her chair. "What kinda rock in the trick-or-treat bag is that?"
The Slayer hunched forward. "I can't even go on a simple Saturday night date without running into a bloodsucker. It's just… it's not in the cards, or the stars, or anything, right now."
"Yeah, but who is he to not be interested in you?" Willow's lips pursed in irritation.
"It's okay, he wasn't mean about it," Buffy said, trying to soothe her friend. "He's going… got other plans."
"Shoot." Willow scowled. "I thought you really liked him."
"I do, I do really like him. He's a great guy. We even decided that if there was anything cool that we both wanted to do, we'd do it. We made a pinkie pact." Buffy sighed. "I can go on dates, I just can't be… dating anyone."
Midway through seventh period, the cheerleaders were called out over the intercom. With twenty minutes left in the day, students were dismissed and dutifully trooped to the gym.
The persistent rumble of student interaction echoed around the hard surfaces of the walls and floor. Principal Snyder stood at the microphone and began speaking. Buffy couldn't make out what he was saying over the white noise of disinterested teens. Snyder finished whatever he was saying and stepped back, gesturing to Ms. Hollis.
The gym teacher/Knight of the Cross wore a maroon jacket over a gold silk top, Sunnydale colors. She reached down and raised the microphone stand, then looked around.
"Hey!" she barked. The noise level in the gym dropped precipitously. "Thank you," she said, all sweetness. "Last Saturday, we went to Cal Poly and did something that no Sunnydale squad has done in over twenty years. Give a round of applause to the District Six champs, your Sunnydale Razorback cheerleaders." Something in her tone let every student know that clapping was not a choice; it was an imperative.
As the sound grew, aided by the echo of the cavernous space, the cheerleaders sprinted out of the tunnel. They had changed into their uniforms, and as they approached mid-court each member did some sort of stunt; mostly cartwheels and walkovers, but Julia Aguilar popped a complete no-hands back flip. They formed a double line facing the stands, grinning and waving.
Ms. Hollis leaned into the mic again. "The amount of work that this squad has put in, the grit they have shown, is amazing. When it counted most, they gave their best performance of the year, and they earned this." She leaned over and picked up the trophy, a three-feet tall amalgam of wood and gold. "And I am so happy to present this trophy to this year's captain, Cordelia Chase." Cordelia detached herself from the rest of the team and stepped forward.
"Her smile looks a little stiff," Willow whispered.
Ms. Hollis handed the trophy to Cordelia, who lifted it over her head.
Buffy blinked. "Is it just me," she whispered to Willow, "or has Cordelia got some serious guns?"
Willow stared, wide-eyed. "What does Ms. Hollis do, make her do pushups before she gets dinner?"
Cordelia returned to the team, carrying the trophy. They waved again, as parents and the photographer for the Sunnydale Press took photos, then headed for the tunnel. Ms. Hollis waved and stepped away from the mic. Principal Snyder lowered stand until he could speak. "Return to your seventh hour classes. You will be dismissed from there."
The students flooded out of the gym. As they walked down the hall, Xander leaned over the Buffy and Willow. "Okay, I know it's gonna make me sound creepy to say it, but I gotta ask. Did anyone else notice how ripped Cordelia is?"
"I think she looks good," Willow said.
"Oh, I didn't say she didn't look good." Xander hunched his shoulders. "She looks really good… disturbingly good."
""And once again, male shallowness rears its ugly head," Buffy said.
"What? I've admitted wrongdoing," Xander said. "Maybe I'm not being shallow. Maybe this is growth, maybe it's… maturity that allows me to… be glad that Cordelia seems to be doing okay."
"Not when you say it like that," Willow said, a disgusted look on her face. "It gave me the heebie-jeebies."
"She's not okay," the Slayer said. "No matter how she looks."
"It is better to look good than to feel good." Xander adopted an exaggerated accent.
"More like Caveman Lawyer," Willow muttered.
Oz glanced at him. "First rule of holes, when you're in one, stop digging."
"Delilah, what's wrong?" Trick's hooded eyes watched his assistant.
She took a shaky breath. "I'm… getting a little nervous, sir."
Trick looked even sleepier. "I understand, but we've run it close, cut it fine before." A slow smile spread over his face. "Hey, this is the path we've chosen. It's never easy, or at least it's never easy and profitable. It's all right to feel the jitters, means you're on top of your game." She nodded. Trick looked at her for a long minute. "This deal is complicated enough. Don't be on eggshells around me. Got that?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir. Now, about the rabbi…"
"What's this?" Cordelia turned the object in her hands from side to side.
"Your headgear." Matti tossed something toward her. Cordelia dropped the headgear as she fumbled to catch the new object.
"This?" she said, holding it up.
"Mouthguard," Matti said.
"Jeez, why don't you just give me glasses and a hearing aid while you're at it." Cordelia shook her head. They were under the bright fluorescent lights in Matti's basement.
"Hey, I don't know if that's orthodontia, or you just got lucky in the teeth department, but I'm not going to be responsible for loosening any of them."
Cordelia looked alarmed, then quickly donned the headgear and inserted the mouthpiece. "Whuff noe?" she asked.
Matti checked her headgear and adjusted the strap. "Now," she said, "you take the stick." She handed the long staff to Cordelia.
The girl studied the weapon, then spit her mouthpiece into her hand. "Why are the ends padded?"
Matti grinned. "So they don't hurt so much. You still want to do this? I'm fine if you walk away." Cordelia set her jaw and put in the mouthguard. "Okay," Matti said, "First, just swing the staff a couple of times, get a feel for it…"
Willow opened the door, smiling. "Hi," she said. "Come in."
"Surprisingly formal greeting," Oz said as he stepped inside.
Willow grinned. She turned her head and spoke toward the living room. "Mom, Dad, we're going up to my room."
"Leave the door open," Mrs. Rosenberg said.
"Always," Willow replied as they headed up the stairs. She closed the bedroom door behind her.
"I'm glad we're finally going to do this," she said. "I've been waiting for it for a while." She went to her desk and picked up a fat white envelope. "Do you have yours?"
"Uh, no," Oz said. "I do not."
"This is exciting." Willow hugged herself. "I've dreamed about Decision Day since… sixth grade?"
Oz sat down on the edge of her bed. "I'm gonna be gone most of spring break. Devon got us four gigs that week, all of 'em out of town."
Willow sat down at her desk, open-mouthed. "That's so rock star."
"Yeah," Oz shifted uncomfortably.
"Anyway, I thought we'd sort of symbolically drop the envelopes in the mailbox at the same time."
Oz grimaced. "Willow."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I know this is beyond-seventh-level nerddom, but I can't help it. I'm finally going to get out of Sunnydale, and with you. I know I'm being selfish. The details are workable."
Oz folded his hands in his lap. "I'm not sending in a letter."
"What? You have to notify the school. It's all part of the process." Willow stopped. Oz said nothing, Willow's eyes grew wide. "What are you saying?"
"I'm not going to college. Not now, anyway."
Willow's brow furrowed. "Well, then, what are you going to do?"
"We're going to take Dingoes on the road. I told them I'd try for a year."
Willow looked stunned. "Try what for a year?"
"To make the band work."
"Wait, wait." Willow held up a hand. "If Dingoes is touring, how will you go to school?"
Oz sighed. "We're repeating ourselves."
"Not… but we… I don't understand." Willow looked at the desktop as though she was trying to find something hidden in the surface. "Why?"
"I've never done things because I'm supposed to." Oz ran a hand through his hair. "Life is too short."
"I know that. It's one of the things I love about you, but we made plans… you were there." Oz said nothing. Willow leaned toward him. "Talk to me, Oz. What's going on? Where did this come from?"
"It's a year. I'll barely be twenty. Plenty of time to get back on the school track."
Willow shook her head, hard. "No. No. I mean, where did this come from? What happened?"
"The funeral."
"What?"
"The funeral."
Willow clenched her fists in frustration. "I do not understand."
Oz looked around the room, taking his time. "Everything sort of snapped into focus. The wolf, all the times we've almost died… Cordelia's parents, their lives weren't honest. We'll all be in a box someday, maybe sooner for us. If… when that happens, I need to know that I did it on my own terms."
Willow's eyes glistened. "But… school…"
Oz bit his lip. "I can always do school, I'm good at it… but I don't love it. I love music. We'll probably fail… but I have to know."
"And us?" Willow's face scrunched.
"I love you. That hasn't changed."
Willow sniffled. "Yeah, well, not yet."
Oz looked confused."What?"
Willow wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "You should probably go."
"Wait, this is–"
Willow closed her eyes. "Please. You should go."
Oz nodded. "Okay. My bad." He stood up.
Buffy strolled across the park. She began to whistle, a jaunty, upbeat tune. She continued for a while, then stopped.
"Okay," she said, "I think it should be obvious by now that I know you're there. Either try to jump me or come out and we'll do it mano-a-mano. I've got a test tomorrow and time's wasting."
"What if I decline both offers?"
"Angel," Buffy almost groaned. "Why are you skulking in the shadows? It's so cliche, whether you're a stalker or a stalker."
He shook his head. "I'm headed back from the docks. I think our window's closing."
"Great. Every spring it's new colors and the end of the world."
"No one's patrolling with you?"
"Nah." Buffy wrinkled her nose. "I mean, they would've, but I needed to clear my head."
"Of what?" Angel asked.
Buffy sighed. "I told a perfectly nice boy that I wasn't interested."
Angel shrugged. "So?"
"Except I was interested, well, kinda interested, but… you know what really puts sand in my lip gloss? He said he wasn't interested."
"So? Problem solved."
"Spoken like a male egotist." Buffy scowled. "Who does he think he is, not interested."
Angel ducked his head. "Did he use the exact words 'not interested'?"
"No… but his exact wordage isn't the point. The point is, he should feel bad about it."
"Maybe he does."
The Slayer's lip curled. "He didn't act like it."
"Did you act like it?"
She scowled. "If you're just going to make reasonable points, there's no reason for this conversation."
Willow walked across the common area, her stride stiff and jerky. Tyler Pittman sat on a bench under an oak tree. He saw her, and his eyes widened.
"Hey–" he said.
"Don't you 'Hey' me. You pretended that you knew all about this," Willow said, "like you had some great secret knowledge, but you don't know any more than I do."
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I didn't work harder. I'm sorry I was an asshole. I really want to learn about this. I need to learn about it. I'm sorry."
"Sorry's a game I played in elementary school," Willow said, frowning. "Why do I need you?"
Tyler's eyes darted back and forth. "The guy, the guy I knew, who could do this… You're already farther than he ever got."
"Your case-making skills are of the lame," Willow said, lips pressed tight together. She stared at him. "After school in the chem lab."
"Wait– You mean–" he stammered.
"Don't make me regret this," Willow said.
"Where's Will?" Xander asked as he swung in alongside Oz.
"She's, uh, busy," Oz said.
"Cool. Listen, I've got, like, fifteen T-shirt ideas. I'm gonna pitch 'em at practice. When's your next practice?"
Willow walked up to the dark blue mailbox outside the Sunnydale Post Office. She stared at the envelope. Zero hour. No coming back. Once it was in the mail slot, the die was cast. She looked at the address one last time, bit her lip, then shoved it into the box with a quick, forceful motion. She spun on her heel and walked away, head down.
"I'll need to get a winter coat," she mumbled to herself.
End of The Ratchet Effect. If you enjoyed it, please leave a review.
