Finally, the "villain" gets to tell her version of the story.
At first glance, Avery Chase seems to be the typical head cheerleader: she's pretty, has an equally gorgeous boyfriend, and together, they have won the hearts of Crescent Grove High.
Aver...
LET ME JUST say that I absolutely loathe those goody-two-shoes.
I have nothing personally against them, really. It's just that if they ever catch fire and I happen to have the last glass of water known to all humanity, I would rather use it to water the beautiful glorious weeds behind me.
They act all innocent and all wonderfully smart, teacher's pet and all. They are always seen, or portrayed, as the innocent ones and then the "Queen Bees" or the head cheerleaders are always the main antagonists, trying to claim the guy and ruin the good girl's perfect humble life.
But hey, let me get this straight. When you read a story from the goody-two-shoes's point of view, it is pretty obvious that they want you to think that the good girl is the hero of the story, the protagonist. After all, it is an unsaid rule that the winners get to tell the story. "Survival of the fittest," is what they say.
Yet, have you ever wondered perhaps why those Queen Bees want to attack those girls so much?
Imagine this: You and your lovely handsome boyfriend have been in a relationship for three years now, ever since you were fourteen. Young, I know. You two practically have known each other since birth and are the typical clichés of "loving the best friend". The both of you rule the school undoubtedly; the perfect golden couple that is well-liked by everyone who has ever crossed your path. But then a goody-two-shoes suddenly comes in, snatches your best friend and boyfriend away from you, and practically tries to put you in a negative light. How would you feel?
Sadly, my friends, I was placed in that situation at the end of junior year.
I grew up with my best friend, Blake Ryder, and we were practically "joined at the hip". Along the way, we had a few other close mutual friends here and there who completed our perfect little entourage. Times changed; those friends left, and Blake grew up to be the most glorious man I have ever met in my entire existence, and it didn't help that I was already hopelessly in love with him during my younger years.
He would be what you guys call a typical bad boy. He had the physical appearance that would put a Greek god to shame. He had that devil-may-care attitude, and — I must admit — was quite rude to the teachers and principals and practically everyone else in the school.
Sure, he was a big bad meanie, but he had a heart of gold. He was my best friend, and we stuck with each other through thick and thin. For years, there had hardly been any memorable memories I've made without him right by my side. When my parents got divorced, he was there almost immediately upon hearing the news and arrived with tubs of my favorite ice cream and chick flick movies. He was there when I had my first ballet recital, and he was also there when I had gotten my first motorcycle.
As I said, he had a heart of gold, and he cared for everyone that he held dear to his heart. However, he also had a wall of stone that surrounded his heart, and if you didn't crack down that wall, he would appear to have a heart of pure ice.
He was everything to me, and when he jokingly asked if I would be his girlfriend when I turned fourteen, I agreed. I didn't know back then that he was serious and was surprised in the best way possible when he had really asked me out on my fourteenth birthday. Needless to say, that was the best birthday of my life. But then came my seventeenth birthday.
I was a pretty generous person, not the typical plastic Barbie, I would like to believe. I didn't talk behind anyone's back, and I tried to participate in as many charity events as possible. Sure, I was the head cheerleader, but that didn't mean that I was mean or rude. I was not even a natural platinum blonde, for heaven's sake!
So like I was saying, it was my seventeenth birthday, and I had invited the whole school over to my house for a party. And yes, that included the smart people and the wallflowers, though I wasn't quite sure they would turn up. That's the thing; I made the mistake of inviting everyone. I had unknowingly invited my future enemy, Charlotte Brooke.
Charlotte would be your typical good girl. She had perfect grades and strict yet loving parents who held respectable jobs, and she only lurked in the shadows of Crescent Grove High. She never tried to make herself known throughout the school, and some of my cheerleaders enjoyed giving her a little trouble at school.
Cliché enough for you?
On my birthday, however, she had to make herself known. She and her best friend, Miranda Hastings, had always worn baggy clothing to hide and blend in with the crowd. Sure, Miranda was more outgoing compared to Charlotte, but that didn't mean she was that outgoing. They had to choose my night — my night — to wear the skimpiest clothing and get all the attention.
When they stepped into the room, I was stepping down the long stairs. Their entrance looked like Cinderella's big reveal, and I looked like her mice friend trailing behind. Needless to say, I was absolutely humiliated. The worst part of all of this? Blake had the audacity to ask her for the first dance of the fairytale ball-themed party. My party was trashed, and ever since that day, I made it a point to make her life miserable.
See, I had a reason. Okay, maybe I did take this a bit too personally.
Without any other warning, Blake had gotten close to her, and soon, some rumors of me cheating on Blake spread throughout the whole school like wildfire, and I was known as a whore. I felt cheap, walking the hallways and having people stare at me as if I were in an issue of Playboy. Blake broke up with me exactly two weeks after my birthday and went after Charlotte because of this.
I had hit my all-time low and lost everything then. My best friend, my confidence, my cheer head status. Everything.
In time, my close friend and cheerleading comrade, Summer, dragged me out of that ditch, and I got my confidence back.
However, I wasn't going to be the head cheerleader anymore since it was obviously not enough for Blake. Nope. I was going to be the bad girl.
And he'd better watch his back.
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[A/N]:
Dear re-readers, I don't know why you're subjecting yourself to the torture of reading this cringe-fest again but regardless, welcome back. Thank you for sticking around.
