Cheer-Streaked: A Westbridge Over-Drama

1: Welcome To The Freak Show

NOTICE: Sabrina the Teenage Witch and all other characters are © Archie Comics / Hartbreak / Paramount / Whatever.
This work of friction - I mean, FICTION (awful, I realise) - is ©2007 myself.

Whew, okay. This is one of my longer works - and yes, it's first in a series of six. Now you know! I am hesitantly proud of this one, as it was my first big femmeslash work that slowly dragged me out of my comfortable closet.

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~*~ Prologue
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SLAP!

Shoot, now I've done it - I hit her. I can't believe I just HIT her! Okay, so maybe I hate her stupid guts, and her stupid face, and everything about her freakly personage - or maybe I don't, but... I just crossed over the threshold from passive-agressive banter to physical violence, and... how do I feel? Sorry. The remorse surprises me because I hate her, and at the same time I'm surprised to be surprised. Do I really think I'm above feeling awful for striking somebody, just because it's that loser? More importantly, I know I don't really think of her like that anymore, so why do I still feel like I have to pretend? Why am I such a terrible person and how did I get this way?

...y'know, I'm getting WAY ahead of myself here. Let's take a step back.

My name is Libby Chessler. Hi! I'm a Junior at Westbridge High, and I'm Queen of the school. Conceited much, you say? I don't think so; I've been voted Homecoming Queen three times, so it is kind of a literal thing. I also have the best hair, the most expensive clothes, the hottest guys salivating over me, and everybody - students and teachers alike, even the Vice Principal - are like putty in my hands. Make no mistake, I rule around here - in fact, to lower my self-image by any significant amount, I'd have to be delusional. What? Just being honest.

But while all that's important - because I'm important - it's not really what this is about. It's about that constant thorn in my side, that royal pain that just won't seem to disappear no matter how much she should.

Sabrina Spellman; A.K.A., Freak Of The Century.

One day, almost two years ago, that bizarre little bimbo just waltzed into MY school, smiling at everybody like she was made of daisies and daffodils, and ruined my life. Well, maybe not totally, but she took a good size chunk of the fun out of it. She didn't fall in line like the rest of the peons here; she stood up to me, questioning my logic and motives as if anyone else's mattered. Who the hell does she think she is?! That boundless optimism, good nature, blonde hair and dimples... how annoying.

And, as if her mere putrid presence wasn't annoying enough, she seemed to find new and exciting ways to embarrass me like, every day. How did I end up serving lunch duty out of nowhere? How did I end up wearing two different colour stockings when I KNOW I put on a matching pair that morning? I couldn't even explain some of the weird pranks she pulled, but even though she was very rarely openly hostile toward me, I still knew she was behind it all, I'm sure of it... the sugary sweetness was all a facade. She had it in for me, almost as much as I had it in for her.

The freak attracted other freaks, too; that nonconformist freak with the frizz problem who thankfully disappeared after Sophomore year, and The Amazing Nobody who currently follows her around like a little lost puppy. That one actually had the nerve to try out for OUR cheerleading squad - as if! But I don't care if she hangs out with THEM...

How did she get her claws into Harvey Kinkle? Oh sure, he might only be second string on our beloved football team, and he might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I wanted Harvey. He's so down-to-earth, so calm and collected... and cute as a button, of course. That smile! Oh, but no, of course Miss Goody Two-Shoes had to steal him away from me, because nothing's ever easy for Libby. I have to maintain being this gorgeous AND compete against that backwards dweeb for what should be mine by default? Where is the justice, I ask you?!