[nsw-fic] High School Melodrama!!!

[Tysyacha]

(Author's Note: I'm in a really bad mood today, so I'm deciding to write this. It's not a very happy story, and it's also rated PG-13 for language. I'm also not a fan of "High School Musical" except for one song, hence the title. It's nothing LIKE HSM, but then again, I'm lampooning the title, so ha ha!)

 

"W. T."

 

Shannon and I have been friends ever since first grade. No, kindergarten! No, wait--it was the first day of preschool, and as soon as we saw each other across the classroom full of hyper, crying children, we knew we were meant to be not only friends, but best friends. T and S, we called ourselves: Therese and Shannon, inseparable, BFF. That is, until "Leet" noticed me.

 

Her real name is Alicia, but everyone calls her "Leet" at school because that's what she is: elite. She's the leader of the most popular group of girls, known by the rather odd moniker of the CCC's: the Chaste Christian Club. Knowing how Alicia seemed to be the leader of everything and not just her own cadre of very powerful friends, I was surprised the CCC's weren't called "The Leet Group". However, she and her circle said they were fully committed to Jesus and not just one particular member, even if that member happened to be the leader. Perhaps that was what led Leet to look my way: Christian charity.

 

Anyway, back to Shannon. She has a nickname, too, though one not even close to "Leet". She's called "Fuss" by almost all of the other kids besides me, which stands for Fat, Ugly, Stupid Slob. It breaks my heart to hear people in the hallways whisper or shout, "FUSS!" as she passes by, but it breaks my heart even more to realize what I did to her. Looking back, I know I don't deserve her friendship or even her forgiveness. For my deeds, I deserve hate.

 

Shannon hasn't forgiven me, by the way. I don't expect her, or anybody, to.

 

It all started when Alicia, known as Leet, stopped by my locker one day at school. Until that moment, she had never noticed me because I was one of the "average kids" who wasn't very noticeable anyway. I was neither pretty nor ugly, fat nor thin, smart nor dumb. I was just there, existing and trying to get through the school day and then the school year, not caring much about anything except blending in with the crowd. True, I was often teased and ostracized because of my friendship with Shannon, but not by "Leet" and her crowd. I was beneath their scorn as well as their awe.

 

That is, until that glorious day. Leet said, "Hey, T. Want to hang with us?"

 

I was dumbstruck. Had Alicia mistaken me for someone else? She must have. For starters, no one had ever called me "T." before, and for another thing, there was no way a girl like Leet would ever invite a girl like me to "hang" with her and the CCC's. I was just too--nothing. Too invisible. "Wait a sec," I told Leet. "Are you sure you aren't talking to someone else who's nearby?"

 

"No," smiled Alicia, her face as beautiful and golden as one of the models on makeup commercials. "I'm talking to you, silly! Do-you-want-to-hang-with-us?" She waved her hand in front of my face, the smile never leaving hers. I nodded dumbly, and she winked and motioned for me to follow her out into the hallway. I couldn't believe my good luck! What did I do to deserve it?

 

"These are the CCC's, besides myself," Leet said once we were apparently in the "popular" area of our school's dusty and musty corridors. "Shrink, this is T. Lippy, this is T. Cover Girl, this is T. Books, this is T. Flair, this is T." I should explain, because each of these girls had a real name as well as their nickname in the Chaste Christian Club. "Shrink", real name Olivia, was the group's psychologist and relationship counselor--a tough job. "Lippy," real name Gwen, was famous for her distrust of authority and sass mouth. "Cover Girl," real name Wendy, was as beautiful as "Leet" was, if not more. "Books," real name Carly, was obviously the smart one. She'd memorized all the books of the Bible and could quote chapter and verse (which she frequently did.) Lastly, "Flair," real name Blair, was the CCC's resident drama queen.

 

As for me? I was now "T.", and I wasn't sure if or where I really fit in.

 

"You're not 'in' yet," said "Leet", "but we'll tell you when you are." She smiled.

 

Not long after that, elections were being held for class president. "Leet" was going to run, but so was Shannon, known as "Fuss". Who would prevail? Duh! Obviously it would be Leet, but our school still liked to pretend there was such a thing as democracy and no such things as cliques or hierarchies. Adults can be so clueless sometimes. They harp on us for every single little thing we do wrong, but they never notice the things we really do wrong.

 

Am I making any sense? If not, don't worry. I will.

 

Anyway, it was after school, two days before the election. Rumor had it that Shannon had a bit of a lead amongst the majority of the freshman student body, because the majority had been largely ignored by Leet and the CCC's. At least Shannon cared about people, despite them calling her "Fuss", and if she became class president, maybe that would finally stop. I hoped so.

 

I was in the hallway, and "Leet" was coming toward me carrying a bunch of signs. "Stick these up, T.," she said, "and you're officially in the CCC's." I blanched when I saw what the signs said: "Don't make a fuss over FUSS!" They all had a really unflattering picture of Shannon and the words FAT, UGLY, STUPID SLOB written in big block letters next to it. I felt sick.

 

"You do it," I said. "You're the one who's running for class president, Leet."

 

"Hel-looooo!" Alicia waved her hand in front of my face again. "Duh! If this gets back to me, it'll ruin my reputation and no one will elect me. So, it gets back to you. Not that anyone will know it was you, so no harm, no foul. Plus, you'll get to be in the CCC's, and we own this school. Not the teachers--us."

 

For my chance to be cool, I grabbed the thick block of plasti-tack that Leet handed to me and went to work. If no one was ever going to know it was me except for me, then what was the matter with that? Everyone was basically gone from school anyway, except a few misfits who were stuck in detention. I stuck the signs up all over the school, not daring to miss any oft-looked-at walls, and afterwards I bolted for the girls' restroom and puked. Twice.

 

It turns out that had it not been for ME, ME, ME, and not Leet, I would have gotten away with it, too. I just couldn't bear the look on Shannon's face as all the other kids pointed first at the signs, laughing, and then pointed to her.

 

"Who did this?" asked Shannon, her face wet with silent tears. "The CCC's?"

 

"I'm sorry," I confessed, choking up. "I'm Therese Fontaine, and I approved this message." I paused as Shannon's expression turned first to shock, then to sorrow, and finally to rage. "They--they said I'd get in and be cool if I--!"

 

I felt two hard slaps on my cheeks, first one, then the other. "I hate you," Shannon snarled, her face redder than I'd ever seen anyone's face become since. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You're nothing but a fake and a phony, and besides that, you're a traitor! I never want to see you--again!" She shoved me hard, knocking me back against the lockers and sending all my books and papers sprawling all over the floor. Holding back my tears, I picked everything up, and soon the CCC's came to surround and hug me.

 

"Don't make such a fuss," Alicia cooed, "over FUSS. She's nothing but a fat, ugly, stupid slob anyway. We're your new friends now. We've got your back." That was how I officially started hanging out with Leet and the CCC's, as one of them. They no longer called me "T.," either, but rather "Therese." Out of all the members of the club, I was the only one that kept my real name. Why? That troubled me, but soon I was preoccupied with all the lunchtime Bible studies, Kool-Aid Keggers, and other Christian parties I was invited to. I was having so much fun I soon forgot my betrayal--or so I thought. I could hardly sleep at night, and I prayed to whatever God was out there for forgiveness, but all that answered me--all that deserved to--was silence.

 

Then I met Gavriil, who broke it. He was a foreign-exchange student from Russia, and I daresay he was H-O-T. Since all the girls in the CCC's already had boyfriends (why wouldn't they?), they determined I would get first dibs. The thing was, I was his girlfriend in name only. We never--we were never allowed to--well, you know. We were supposed to save ourselves for holy matrimony, Christian marriage, which only contained the bare minimum of passionless sex in order to create children, and thus procreate. You get the idea. Anyway, neither Gavriil nor I agreed with this, and one night...

 

We shared secrets. I told him how I'd betrayed Shannon, and he forgave me. He told me his story--that he'd been in a gang in Russia and stolen a car--and I forgave him. We sat together, wept together, and made love together. No one, Gavriil promised, would ever find out, especially not the CCC's. I was utterly stupid once more, unfortunately, and told "Books" (whom I sort of trusted) how great it was to finally be forgiven and loved again. Carly smiled.

 

The next day, all anyone ever said to me at school was: Whore.

 

************************************

 

It's been a month since that happened. The other kids still call me "W.T.", for "Whore Traitor," and I deserve both parts of that title. I've earned it. Gavriil had to go back to Russia, though he writes me every week. I have no friends at school, but Shannon does. She's met a new group of kids who don't call her "Fuss", who call her by her real name, as the CCC's did to me until I surrendered to Gavriil. I wander through the hallways like a zombie, slaving away at my homework and knowing that absolutely nobody cares except those who know my crimes and wish to make me pay for them.

 

As for Leet? She mouths a word in the hallway as she passes by, and in her eyes is the knowledge that she and those she chooses do run the school.

 

The one thing I've learned from all of this is this: There will always be girls like Leet, with their gentle blue eyes and their golden ponytails that swing like metronomes, who have it all. They become the bosses of Fortune 500 companies, Senators' wives and First Ladies, leaders of churches and towns. They can hold sway over anyone and make their victims believe that they're the ones with all the power. They can make anyone do their dirty work, and they themselves never get caught. Someone has to run the world--the Leets.

 

And there will always be girls like me, weak-willed and selfish, willing to do absolutely anything for one chance to be cool. They'll throw their real best friends under a bus, suck up to anyone they think is important, abandon everything and everyone they ever loved for a shot that ends up shooting them in the heart instead. "Whore traitors", in other words, who sell out.

 

Girls like Leet are elite, but it is girls like me--the W.T.'s--who prop them up.

[DeadYorick]

Very sad, but true story. Very well written and emotional. Very nice story Tysy. I know most people who do not have the backbone to do anything but bring people down to impress others

[Tysyacha]

Thanks, RakataDark! I almost cried when I wrote this story--can you believe it?

 

In real life, and back in high school, too, I was much, much more like FUSS than like my narrator, Therese. I just wanted to see how it would look from the point of view of an unfortunate girl who "pulls an Anakin" in order to get one risky shot at glory.

 

Thus, Therese betrayed, and she was betrayed in turn. Like Kreia. Peace out!

 

(I'm feeling better now! )

[DeadYorick]

Thanks, RakataDark! I almost cried when I wrote this story--can you believe it?

 

In real life, and back in high school, too, I was much, much more like FUSS than like my narrator, Therese. I just wanted to see how it would look from the point of view of an unfortunate girl who "pulls an Anakin" in order to get one risky shot at glory.

 

Thus, Therese betrayed, and she was betrayed in turn. Like Kreia. Peace out!

 

(I'm feeling better now! )

 

Oh I can believe it. Emotional tragedies can always make the writer get emotional.

 

Most writers I know usually base their protagonist off themselves (Which in my opinion translates into a lazy writer) but you preformed it quite well here.

 

It is good that writing this story made you feel better. A true writer learns to poar their heart out into their writing.

[The_Catto]

Nice story, Tysy. Reminded me of some incidents at school that happened only a few years back.

Nice to know you're feeling better now, because, as RD said, a true writer learns to pour their heart out into the writing.