Girls Like Athletes (Chapter 4)

So far, Lizzie attended all of her desired tryouts and did not get into any single one. Since she tried to get in all of the school sports for girls, she decided to take a break from even thinking about sports. Plus, she focused on her position in cheerleading. A couple of days after her failed attempts, she attended cheerleading practice once again in the football field in which the football team practiced as well. After Pamela told all the girls to take a break, Lizzie sat in the bleachers with her best friends, who decided to visit her before going home. As they chatted, Lizzie couldn't keep her eyes off of Warren who was playing with his teammates from afar.

"You shouldn't change yourself for a man," said Madeline.

"I know," responded Lizzie, "but I was going to play only one sport."

"Lizzie, if you're bad at one sport, that means you're probably bad at all sports," commented Skye. "And you are."

"Don't be harsh, Skye," said Debra.

"No, it's true," said Lizzie. "I was terrible at all of them. I should've stopped at volleyball."

"Yeah," agreed Madeline. "But look at the bright side: if you played sports, you would have had scratches on your face. And your face is too beautiful to be scratched."

"Thanks, I've been told. Not to sound conceited. I didn't know until a bunch of people said that to me so I know... not to brag. Or am I bragging? I--"

"Lizzie, you know there's a thing called 'stop talking'?" asked Skye.

"Hey, no visitors!" yelled Pamela from below.

"Suck it, Pam!" responded Andrea.

Pamela rolled her eyes then walked off to Mauricia.

"Don't worry, Lizzie," said Debra. "Maybe Warren's not the one."

Lizzie paused, still staring at Warren. "I need another chance."

She got up and scooched pass Andrea and Skye then down the steps.

"Where are you going, Liz'?" asked Madeline.

Lizzie exit the fence in front of the bleachers and ran towards the field of football players, confusing the cheerleaders. Lizzie approached Warren who was standing around and didn't move when he saw Lizzie.

"Hey, Warren," she greeted kindly.

"Hey, Lizzie," Warren smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm a cheerleader, obviously. A very athletic cheerleader."

"Yeah, I know but what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I thought maybe I can help your teammates play football."

"Um, okay."

Lizzie turned around. "Hey, guys, I'm gonna help you play!"

A few of the teammates wolf-whistled and cat-called.

An African-American boy walked up to Lizzie. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You're a girl."

"But a very athletic girl," said Lizzie.

"Okay, just keep tossing the ball, guys," declared Warren.

The boys continued to threw the football to each other while some of them chased and blocked one another. Lizzie didn't move around so much but tried to stay near Warren.

Once she saw a boy getting blocked by another as he cradled the ball, Lizzie waved her arms and shouted, "Hey, over here!"

The boy shrugged and threw the ball over the other boy's shoulder. The ball flew over several guys' head but came down very fast. Fast enough to strike Lizzie on the top of her head with lots of force and knock her down unconscious, almost flat on her back.

"I don't want to sound a bad person," started Skye to her shocked friends, "but I told her so."

Girls Like Athletes (Chapter 3)

The week after, Lizzie signed up for multiple tryouts for various types of sports at her school from softball to swimming. First, she attended a tryout for volleyball as they started on Wednesday right after school. Before going, she put on clothes meant for exercising just like the other girls had to. She waited on the front bench of the bleachers in the gymnasium with the other participants. They waited for half an hour until the head volleyball player stepped up to them.

"Welcome, ladies," she announced. "I appreciate you all for coming. But let's cut the chitchat because I only have time for good athletes." She looked at her clipboard. "Alright, I want Abigail Pinewood, Lizzie Duvall and DeeDee Kerosene to come up."

Lizzie stood up along with the other two girls. They joined the players that stood around the volleyball net. The three connected themselves to the smaller team divided from the bigger team due to the net. The captain joined the bigger team and stood at the edge of them.

"You guys ready?" she asked.

"I know I'm ready," replied Lizzie while hopping. "I'm so ready."

The captain's teammate handed her the ball by tossing it to her. She held out the ball and hit it with her other hand. Each team hit it back and forth until one girl in front of the net struck it hard enough for Lizzie to get instantly hit in the face. She immediately fell down and covered her face with the palms of her hands.

"Ahh!" she uttered in a muffled tone. "Oh, my golly God, that hurt! Aw, it burns! Oh, my God, I haven't felt pain like that in a really long time. Ah! Oh, my God! It hurts! It hurts so much. Ah, somebody help me! It feels like I'm dying! Aw, oh, my God! Ah, ah!"

"Is she out?" asked one of the girls on the captain's team.

"Yeah, she's out," answered the captain.


The next day, Lizzie attended her tryout for girls' basketball right after school. She was so terrible that the basketball captain had to kick her out. She tried to push Lizzie out of the gym's door but Lizzie tried not to budge.

"Get out!" ordered the captain. "Go!"

"Please, give me one more chance!" Lizzie pleaded.

"No!"

"Come on! I can learn how to play!"

"The point of trying out is because you already know how to play."

"I didn't think about that."

"No, you had your chance. Just go!"

The captain gave her a shove, powerful enough to scoot Lizzie a distance from the door. The captain quickly closed the door and locked it. Lizzie pulled on the unmoveable door and banged on it.

"Come on!" she shouted. "Can't a girl just win the man of her affections?"

"Go away!" yelled the captain from the inside.

"Please!" Lizzie leaned against the door. "I'll make you cookies!"

Girls Like Athletes (Chapter 2)

Few days later, after school, Lizzie participated in cheerleading practice nearby the football field as a game was coming up. The cheerleaders practiced a choreography together with Pamela walking back and forth looking at the squad for flaws. Once the squad were done dancing, Pamela certainly had something to say.

"That was good," she announced. "But I don't want good; I want perfect. So keep practicing and maybe you'll be better than Beyonce which is highly impossible but I want to see you try."

"Pamela, can we have a break?" asked one of the cheerleaders.

"No."

"But some of us are tired."

"Some as in you?"

"Yeah, I'm tired."

"Well, did Moses get tired? No, he kept pushing the red sea so that the followers can cross."

"I don't think he exactly pushed the sea apart," said another cheerleader.

"I will kick you out of this squad, Janie. Remember that."

"I agree with Pamela," said Mauricia, Pamela's fellow Cow Belle. "We don't need a break."

"Thanks, sister."

"You're welcome, sister."

"They're like Siamese twins," muttered Kari, the red head, to a fellow teammate.

"What did you say, Kari?" asked Pamela.

"I said my Siamese cat had twins," Kari spoke up.

"Huh, that's what I thought you said."

"Oh, I love cat babies!" commented Lizzie.

"No one cares what you love," said Mauricia.

"Yeah, no one," Pamela agreed. "Alright, girls, let's take a break."

The cheerleaders made confused faces but shook them off. Pamela and Mauricia walked out together through the open fence while the other cheerleaders sat down on the nearby benches. Lizzie noticed the boys from afar playing football. When she looked even closer, she spotted Warren who she met a couple of days ago. Once he kept still, Lizzie waved with her pom-pom to catch his attention. Eventually, his attention was caught and he happily waved.

"Are you flirting with Warren Kerr?" asked Kari.
"No, I'm just waving," Lizzie responded. "I mean waving can be mistaken for flirting so I guess I am flirting with him. Wait, does that mean I've been flirting with my friends?"

Kari looked away. "How do you know him?"

"I met him a while ago. He's so cute; I think I might ask him out."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"Why?"

"I don't think you're his type."

"What are you talking about? I'm everybody's type... someone said to me. I didn't know until someone told me so I kind of accepted it... not to brag. Or am I bragging? I don't even know anymore."

"Warren only dates girls who play sports."

"How do you know?"

"Because I had a friend who thought she had a great connection with him. But when she asked him out, he refused to go with her because he said he likes girls who were on sports team and my friend was in math club."

"But cheerleading is a sport. Plus, being very good at math takes skill so that's like a sport as well."

"Cheerleading is not a sport... well, not to the guys. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. All I have to do is play one sport; it's no big deal."

"Are you seriously thinking about joining a sports team?"

"Kari, Warren is cherry pie and I need to get myself a slice. Know what I'm saying?"

"Okay, you got to stop talking to me like that."

 

Girls Like Athletes (Chapter 1)

One day, at the end of school hours, Lizzie opened her locker and took out her backpack. She dumped all of her books inside and shook the bag so the books can slide all the way down. She closed the locker and picked up the backpack from the bottom. Instantly when she did so, a boy bumped right into her and made her backpack almost slip between her hands. When she tried to catch it, she gripped the bottom, making all of the books fall out.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said the boy.

"It's okay," responded Lizzie. She turned to look at the boy and almost immediately, she was mesmerized. He was Caucasian with brown, thick hair and stubble tracing his jawline. He held a Blackberry cellphone that reflected in his chocolate-colored eyes.

He crouched down and picked up Lizzie's book. Lizzie held her backpack by the top strap. The boy inserted the books into the backpack.

"Sorry, I was texting my mom," he said.

"Oh, you're a mama's boy," Lizzie perceived.

The boy let out a subtle chuckle.

"Sorry, that wasn't meant to offend you."

"No, it's okay. I love my mama."

Lizzie grinned instead of giggle.

The boy shifted his attention to the backpack and zipped it closed. "There you go. Now the books can't fall out."

"Yeah, unless there's a secret hole under my bag."

"Is there?"

"No."

"Okay, let's pray for that."

"Okay. Wait, you mean right now?"

The boy chuckled. "You're so cute."

Lizzie's eyes widened.

"I mean you're... not ugly."

"It's okay. I've been told 'cute' before. Enough times to accept it. Not that I think I'm cute... or ugly. I just know now I'm cute not to brag. Or am I bragging? I don't even know."

The boy chuckled.

"I think I made it awkward so we're even?"

"I guess so. Now, so I don't appear as some odd stranger, my name is Warren to break the ice."

"I'm Lizzie and is breaking ice your job?"

"I'm very good at it."

"Oh, you make ice sculptures?"

Warren laughed. "You're funny."

"That was a joke?"

"I would like to resume speaking to you but I have to continue having a conversation with my mother through my phone."

"Sure, I get it."

"See you around."

"Around I'll see you."

"Bye," he chuckled.

He turned around and walked off as Lizzie put on her backpack. Almost at the same time, Lizzie's girlfriends arrived and sided her.

"Hey, Liz', what's new?" asked Andrea.

"I think I just found my Channing Tatum," answered Lizzie. She walked forward, making the other girls follow.

"You know someone who looks like Channing Tatum here?" Madeline questioned with interest.

Ready? OK! (Chapter 5)

Less than a week later, Kari went through with her plan of blackmailing Pamela with the photograph of her eating chicken wings. Pamela agreed to let Kari include whoever in the cheerleading squad and one of the people she let in was Lizzie. So afterwards, Lizzie and four other new girls were some of the cheerleaders that were part of the basketball game taking place in Laguna Beach High's gymnasium. Madeline and Andrea came to the game just to support Lizzie.

"I'm so happy for Lizzie," stated Andrea.

"I'm happy she's happy," Madeline added.

"It's good to know that Pamela doesn't have power over anything."

"I know because I have power over anything."

"Really?"

"Of course. I'm the school president."

"Okay."

"Seriously, I could've gotten Lizzie into the squad."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I wasn't asked to. Besides, Kari had the right mind and because of her, Lizzie is the cheerleader she wanted to be."

"So you support blackmail?"

"No, of course not. But I can use Kari. She can be my top spy agent."

"No, she can't."

"Yes, she can."

"You don't have that type of power."

"Yes, I do. I'm the Jesus of this school."

"No."

"Yeah."

"You're not."

"I can hire anyone for anything."

"This is a school. You're not a real president."

"Hurt my feelings some more, why don't ya?"

"I'm telling the truth."

"Telling the truth won't make you my ambassador."
"¿Lo dice en serio? You can do that?"

"Yes, yes, I can. Or I did because you already were my ambassador."

"Oh, mierda, that's so cool."

"It is. I'm president."

Andrea looked down at the basketball players sitting in the front bench. "Do you think Roger can see me from up here?"

"Roger Tate? When did you start liking him?"

"Once he grew pit hair."

"Ew."

"Says the girl who likes taco meat."

"I don't like a lot of it. A little does justice."

Andrea waved her arms. "Roger!"

"Don't call him."

"Why?"

"He'll see you."

"That's what I want."

"But he doesn't know you."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take. Roger!"

A buzzer was audibly heard. Instead of the players, the cheerleaders in maroon uniforms got up and took positions in front of the bleachers. The visitors lowered their volume when an amplified voice said, "Time for the cheer-off. First, Laguna's own Breaker cheerleaders!"

Madeline and Andrea was two of the people who applauded. Lizzie stepped forward in front of her fellow cheerleaders with a megaphone.

"Give me a 'B'!" she yelled into the megaphone.

"B!" repeated the crowd.

"Give me an 'R'!"

"R!"

"Give me an 'A'!"

The crowd hesitated a bit. "A?!"

"Wait, how do you spell 'breakers'?" Lizzie turned and asked without the megaphone.

"Oh, dear," Madeline sighed.

Ready? OK! (Chapter 4)

The day after, Lizzie came to school by herself, still having cheerleading on her mind. When she got out of her red car, she noticed that her backpack was not zipped. So while she walked through the halls, Lizzie tried to zip her backpack closed. Once she got it sealed, she looked up to see one of the judges from the day before. It was the quiet red-headed girl with a funky sense of fashion. Lizzie put on her backpack correctly and put on her "mean girl" face. She approached the girl who was inserting her backpack and a few books into her locker.

"Hey," Lizzie barked.

The red-head turned her head. "Hey," she responded nicely. She closed her locker and faced her body toward Lizzie. "I know you."

"I know you know me," Lizzie's voice deepened. "I know you, did you know that?"

The girl's forehead crinkled. "I guess."

"You guess? You better know, know what I am saying?"

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"If I didn't know you, I'd have one less problem... without you."

"Okay."

"Okay? All you have to say is 'okay'? Do you know any other words that don't require to be spelled? Huh?"

"Listen, if you're mad about getting rejected yesterday, I'm sorry."

"Puh-shaw! I ain't fazed. I only came to check it out. Know what I mean? But you should be sorry for yo'self for even existing... girl!"

"Okay, your spitefulness is coming off very urban."

"Listen, alright? La-la-listen, I don't know who you think you are but I know who I am. And I am the baddest Beatrice in the whole wide world... or school so I just want you to know that in the end of the day, I'm better than you at being a person."

"Okay, number one: what are you doing? And number two: I'm not in charge of who gets in the cheerleading squad; Pamela is. So I am deeply sorry that you didn't get in. I thought you were fantastic. And even though Pamela is in charge, I can still -- or I could've -- make a recommendation for you because I'm able to do that."

Lizzie paused. "Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry for my attitude," her voice came back to normal. "I just thought you were a T-blocker so I was behaving like one, too, so you can include me in the squad. But you seem nice and I wasn't nice to you. So I'm sorry and please don't have second thoughts about recommending me even though you probably already are having them."

"Lizzie, you seem like a nice girl. I've been trying to get more cheerleaders into the squad so I can have someone to talk to. I'm tired of Pamela and Celeste, always talking about nail polish and MTV. But recently, they have been ignoring me so it's hard for me to get a say in anything. So I'm going to blackmail Pamela a little bit."

"How are you going to do that?"

"With this." The red-haired girl opened her history textbook and flipped through the pages until she found a piece of printed paper. She picked it up to show Lizzie. "This is a picture of Pamela chowing down on chicken wings with barbecue sauce. Can you say 'not on a diet'?"

"Ooh, where did you get that?"

"I found it in her home in the trash."

"What are you doing going through her trash?"

"I would not like to talk about that. But she clearly did not want anyone to see that, though it's weird that someone would take a picture of this. I'm gonna tell her that I'll put this on Facebook unless she hears what I have to say."

"Then I'll be in?"

"You'll be in."

Lizzie squealed. "Thank you!"

"No problem."

"What's your name by the way?"

"It's Kari." She put the picture back inside her textbook.

"How do you spell that?"

"K-A-R-I."

"Isn't that pronounced 'Carrie'?"

"No, it's Kari."

"I know but the way it's spelled--"

"Why don't you just ask my parents?!"

Ready? OK! (Chapter 3)

The next day, after school, Lizzie decided to drive Debra to her house since Lizzie planned going there anyway. Once they arrived and finished their homework together, the girls decided to do some yoga in Debra's bedroom. They switched in more comfortable clothing and helped each other stretch.

"I am still in shock about the whole audition," Lizzie shared, reaching her arm over her head, making lean down to the left side.

"Why do you think you didn't get in?" asked Debra, doing the same thing as Lizzie but to the other side.

"Maybe I missed a few steps. But the moves I couldn't remember, I improvised. Overall, it was a good performance."

"Then I don't understand why you're not in."

"Me neither."

The girls switched arms.

"I thought I defined 'cheerleader potential' in my audition," said Lizzie. "I wore a cute outfit, I did a dance I rehearsed twenty times and I even used the song that was in that terrible Bratz movie."

"Did you know anyone who was judging your performance?"

"Well, there was a ginger girl, Celeste from my history class, and Pamela."

Debra stood up straight. "Pamela McAdams?"

"Well, not Pamela Anderson, even though that would've been so cool."

"That's why you didn't get in."

Lizzie stood up straight as well. "Why?"

"Because Pamela hates you."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that."

"It's so unfair for her to do that to you. You are talented."

"I know Pamela hates me but this is cheerleading. Leave what we personally have outside the cheerleading area."

"I agree. She can't just exclude you because she hates you."

"She kind of can because she's the head cheerleader."

"Nonetheless, we should do something."

"Should we tell Maddie do something about it? She is school president. That's like the Jesus of school."

"We can or you can do something by yourself."

"But you said 'we'. I heard you. Or at least I think I heard you."

"I know. But I'm piecing everything together. Okay, Pamela is a mean girl."

"Yeah, meaner that Angelina Jolie from 'Maverick'."

"'Maleficent'."

Lizzie scrunched her forehead. "That's a word?"

"Okay, and mean girls think that they can do whatever they want to do and like whoever they want to like."

"Uh-huh."

"So the only way to get in is to act like a mean girl."

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"You're nice."

"Thank you."

"But that can seem weak."

"Oh."

"So you must face Pamela or the other 'judges' and act like them."

"Okay, I can do that."

"Sooner or later, you'll be a cheerleader."

"So since my niceness comes off as weakness, should I start being more mean?"

"Oh, no, Doll. Being mean is Andrea's job."

"Yeah!"

Ready? OK! (Chapter 2)

Later that day, Lizzie arrived at the gymnasium where the cheerleading auditions were held. She gazed upon the small line of girls that stood next to the table of three judges. The judges studied the girl auditioning in front of them as Lizzie stood in the back of the line. The girl auditioning was an overweight freshman with glasses who danced to the music of "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift. The judges watched in individual horror as the girl danced horribly in nature but kept a confident face the whole time. Once the song was over, the girl abruptly stopped and posed.

"So did I get in?" she asked with a smile.

One of the judges happened to be Pamela McAdams, an ally of the Cow Belles and an enemy of the girls. She told the freshman, "Can you spell 'No'?"

"So I didn't get in?"

"Can you spell 'listen'? No, you didn't. Now run along, chubby."

"I'm telling my mom!"

"'I'm telling my mom'," Pamela imitated.

The girl huffed then ran away out of the gymnasium.

"Don't worry," Pamela said to the brunette next to her, "she'll eat a cheeseburger then she'll be happy again."

The both laughed except for the red head left of Pamela. When Pamela looked at her, the red head tittered a fake laugh.

"Next!" Pamela yelled, rapping her pencil.

The girl in the front of the line stepped out in front of the judges' table. "Hi, I'm Katie," she introduced herself.

"Hey, I saw you flirting with my boyfriend last week," shouted the brunette judge.

"Oh, no," said Katie before running out of the gym.

"Once this is over, I'm-a handle mine," the brunette said to Pamela.

"Next!" Pamela yelled.

As the next girl in line stepped out, Lizzie whispered to the girl in front of her.

"Wow, the judges are really tough on them."

"Yeah, the head cheerleaders are not the nicest girls in school," whispered the blonde girl.

"Especially Pamela. She's always mean to me and my friends."

"Why don't you report her?"

"'Cause she'll just ruin my life on the internet. She told me that."

"But then she'll get arrested."

"Yeah, but then she'll have to be released afterwards and once she does, she'll find and murder me."

The girl turned around. "That's kind of cruel."

"Yeah but I have to do whatever to save my life. It's called 'sacrifice'."

The girl turned back around. "Right."

"So what brings you here?"

"Well, I've always wanted to be a cheerleader since I was a kid. Now I have the chance."

"I've been wanting to be a cheerleader since I learned that you don't have to be one for an actual football team. What if you don't make the squad?"

"Um, I'll make it."

"But what if you don't?"

"I will."

"Oh, you're in denial?"

The girl turned around. "No, I'm--"

"Next!" Pamela yelled while snapping her fingers.

The blonde girl turned around to see she was first in line. She smiled then stepped out in front of the table. "Hi, I'm Alexandra," she introduced herself.

"You got a CD, Alejandro?"

"No and it's Alexandra. I'll be doing a chant."

"Then do it, Allison," said the brunette judge.

While doing rehearsed movements, Alexandra asserted a rallying call. "Let's go team, let's go group. Do we got spirit? Yes we do!"

She attempted a herkey but ending up falling on her bottom.

"Do you got spirit? No, you don't!" Pamela mocked. "You're done."

"Wait, give me another chance," Alexandra scrambled up.

"Sweetie, you used up all your chances when you fell. Next!"

Alexandra began to cry before sloppily running away.

"Hi," greeted Lizzie, walking out while digging through her backpack.

"Ew," Pamela uttered.

"Good to see you, too, Pamela." Lizzie pulled out a CD case and dropped her backpack down. "I'm Lizzie to the rest of you."

She ran over to the CD player on the floor and pressed a button to make it open. She took out the CD inside and replaced it with hers. She took off her yellow pumps and closed the CD player. She pressed "Play" and ran out in front of the table. On the CD player played the song, "Take It to the Maximum" by Prima J. Once the lyrics were heard, Lizzie began to break it into impressive dance moves. She did all kinds of movements such as swirling her hips and doing the robot. The girls in the line nodded their heads to the song and showed admired faces. The judges, except for Pamela, watched her in astonishment. Pamela's demeanor remained stiff, even when Lizzie started back-flipping flawlessly. When the song finished, Lizzie posed like a rockstar as every girl in the gym, except for Pamela, applauded her.

"So am I in?" asked Lizzie, out of breath.

Pamela glanced at the judges with her demeanor more lightened. She then looked at Lizzie then answered the question with, "No."

Lizzie frowned. "No?"

"N-O, no."

"But... I killed it."

"You killed something but it wasn't 'it'. Next!"

Ready? OK! (Chapter 1)

"I'm on a mustard diet," confessed Madeline, holding her sandwich half with both hands.

"What?" asked Skye.

"I'm only eating sandwiches with mustard in them."

"Why?" asked Andrea.

"Because mustard is the healthiest condiment you can put in a sandwich besides peanut butter. And I want better skin so I'm eating every sandwich I have with mustard since I feel like I can't eat a sandwich without something wet in it."

"That sounds weird," commented Skye.

"Yeah, I know but that's how I feel."

"So you're going to eat PB and J with mustard in it for now on?" Lizzie questioned.

"No, I'm going to eat regular PB and J. I'm just gonna put mustard on my turkey sandwiches."

"What happened to ham?" asked Andrea.

"Ham is fattening. Fattening encourages pimples."

"You and your knowledge."

"I have news as well," declared Lizzie.

"What is it, Liz'?" asked Debra.

"I'll give you a hint. Give me a 'C'; give me an 'H'; give me an 'E'-- Wait, how do you spell 'cheerleading'?"

"You're becoming a cheerleader?" asked Madeline.

"How did you know?"

"You just told us."

"Aw, I ruined the hint. But yeah, I'm gonna audition to be a cheerleader."

"That's very good, Lizzie," Debra approved.

"Thank you. It is very good."

"Ugh, I hate cheerleaders," Skye spilled.

"So you're gonna hate me?"

"No, I didn't say that."

"You're lucky I'm not a cheerleader yet."

"You can be whatever you want."

"Why do you hate cheerleaders?" Debra questioned.

"Because the ones here 'get around'."

"Get around where?" asked Lizzie.

"I mean they... do stuff."

"Yeah, like dance and cheer and--"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"So they do other things because dancing and cheering is all I know."

"You know what, Lizzie? I know who you are so you can be a cheerleader if you want."

"I appreciate the support."

"When are you auditioning?" asked Madeline.

"Today. I've been looking at the flyer forever so I didn't know if I was ever going to audition. But since the auditions are today, I've decided to tell you before I go for it."

"Well, you're going to nail that audition, Liz'," Andrea remarked.

"Thanks, I know. But thank you, Debra, for helping me stay flexible."

"You are so welcome," said Debra.

"And I'm not going to hate you if you do become a cheerleader," said Skye.

"Good," said Lizzie.

"You just don't like to be pepped, Skye," Madeline deduced.

"No, do you understand how many times I've been 'T-blocked' by cheerleaders?" inquired Skye.

"What is 'T-block'?" asked Lizzie.

What Does He See in Her? (Chapter 5)

After Marla fell into the mall's water mountain, some security guards saw her and felt that she was disturbing the peace. So they pulled her out and attempted to escort her out of the mall which was difficult because Marla kept screaming and struggling. They eventually had to chase her away, hopefully chasing her out of the mall like they planned. As they did so, Skye chatted with Jeffrey to make him feel comfortable.

"I'm sorry for Marla's behavior," confessed Jeffrey.

"It's okay," responded Skye.

"No, it's not. I mean she constantly acts like that so I have to keep apologizing since she won't."

"I'm sorry for even insulting her."

"It's okay. Who wouldn't?"

Skye chuckled.

"I know she's not the best liked in school--"

"Best liked? I like the Cow Belles better than her and I hate the Cow Belles."

"That must be some strong hate."

"Yeah, I wish it was stronger."

"I don't blame you."

"Then why do you constantly put up with her?"

"I know, it's just--"

"It's been ten years. That's a decade! When a certain amount of years have a name, you know they represent a very long time."

"I know but it's just that... I guess I liked having her company. She made me feel wanted. When I had her, I kept her."

"Like a pet?"

Jeffrey chuckled. "Exactly."

"But you were a kid. You're a teenager now. Soon you'll be an adult and eventually have to grow out of certain things."

"I know. But did you see when I was with her? I couldn't even stand up for her. I have lots of growing up to do... since I'm the size of Peter Dinklage."

"Hey, if I have to look up at you when we're talking, then you're not that short."

"Thank you."

"Or maybe I'm the size of a pony. Who knows? Who knows?"

Jeffrey grinned instead of laughed.

"So are you going to break up with Marla?"

"I think she broke up with me when she said she would find another boyfriend."

"Oh, yeah. No, yeah. I'm really sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. At least I can be happy now. Especially with other people."

Skye looked deep into Jeffrey's eyes. It felt like she was looking into hypnotizing vortexes that will never stop. "Well, that's good," she almost didn't know what to say.

"You're a strong person, you know that?"

"I tell myself that every day until I believe it."

"You just say whatever you want to say but at the same time, it's approachable. You just have an irresistable demeanor."

"I don't know about irresistible but I do have a demeanor."

Jeffrey chuckled. "But are you sure there was nothing more to your argument with Marla?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, when she said you liked me in that way, was she right?"

"I would never agree with Marla."

"But do you think that -- not to offend -- you wanted to be in her place?"

"I-- Uh-- I-I don't worry about stuff like that. I would like to share something with someone but that's like a whim."

"It's okay to like someone."

"Okay, someone told me that today and I still don't know how to respond."

"Well, would you happen to know your response if I were to tell you about a Death Cab for Cutie concert and me wanting you to come with me?"

"I mean I like Death Cab for Cutie so I assume I'd know my response. But before I answer, are you asking me on a date?"

"Does Patrick Stump wear fedoras?"

"But aren't you feeling a bit lovelorn since Marla broke up with you?"

"Honestly, no. You and I, when we met, had a special connection that I did not have with Marla. Even though Marla got on my nerves, she was still my girlfriend and I didn't want to be one of the sordid guys. But since we just don't plain like each other, why not start something with someone who might slip away from me?"

Skye smiled. She wanted the exact same thing and since he said something, she could break her barrier.

"And another thing: I came to your school to visit Marla but I also came to see my new school."

Skye's eyes widened. "No way! You're going to attend Laguna Beach High?"

"Yep. My parents thought that the family should move closer to my aunt so since we're going to do that, I have to start going to the nearest school which is Laguna Beach."

"That's great! Now we can finally be together!" She then paused. "I mean--"

"So you feel the same way?"

Skye sighed. Then she nodded. "Does Andy Hurley play the drums?"

Jeffrey grinned, making Skye grin. "So is that a yes to the date?"

Skye rolled her eyes. "Yes."

Jeffrey blushed and chuckled. "Awesome."

"Awesome."

After maintaining eye contact, it broke once Skye spotted Kent approaching her. He held out a discernibly shattered and tattered device.

"Marla broke my phone," he explained.

What Does He See in Her? (Chapter 4)

"Why do you look angrier than you usually look?" asked Kent.

"Did you hear what Marla said to me?" Skye questioned.

"Well, you were talking to her the whole time," said Sean.

"No, she whispered something to me."

"Well, whispers aren't meant to be heard."

"Shut up, Sean. She said to me, 'I know that you like Jeffrey so stay away from him.'"

"I don't blame her," said Kent. "You do like Jeffrey."

"Kent, please," said David. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"Thanks, David," Skye stretched her eyebrows up. "But was I obviously throwing myself at him?"

"More than obvious," Kent chuckled.

Sean slapped Kent in the gut.

"Oh, God, what has infatuation become of me?" Skye asked.

"Hey, don't fight it," said David. "Liking someone is okay."

"But it's different so it's not okay to me."

"Why does he like Marla anway?" questioned Kent. "She looks like Stan's sister from South Park."

"You know what? We should do something," insisted Sean.

"What kind of something?" asked David.

"Like a bad kind of something."

"We're not going to moon the security guards," Skye said.

"Not that... even though I don't mind doing that again. Nobody likes Marla so we should embarrass her for you and the people."

"I don't know about that," responded David.

"Come on, then Jeffrey will see how much of a spazmo Marla truly is. So he will dump her after ten freaking years and that's when you will slide in."

"But I have accepted Jeffrey's relationship with her," said Skye.

"Really?"

"No, but I'll keep saying that to myself until it makes sense to me."

"Skye, Marla is not right for him. You could be. Let me help you help me help you."

"Help me help you help me?"

Sean nodded.

"Okay, I'm game."

"Everyone else?"

The other guys agreed.

"So what are we going to do?" asked David.

"I got it," said Sean.

He turned around and sprinted. The group stopped and looked behind themselves. They gazed at Sean making a right turn at a drink shack. They watched him order a soda under twenty seconds. After paying for the soda and receiving it, Sean walked in the direction towards the water fountain. He faced Marla who still sitting on Jeffrey's lap.

"Hi, Marla," he greeted. "We meet again."

"I said I don't want you talking to me," Marla hissed.

"I know but I want to say sorry."

"You better be sorry."

"I bought you a drink. You like Mountain Dew?"

"I can't eat that stuff because of my braces."

"I said 'drink', not 'eat'."

"Well, since you bought it..." She reached out her hand to retrieve it.

Sean slowly attempted to hand the cup to Marla. But instantly, he dropped it on her lap while unnoticeably taking the lid off with his thumb. Marla stood up and gasped deeply when the green soda splashed all over her skirt.

"Look at what you did, you dork!" she screamed at Sean.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry," lied Sean. "It just slipped."

"I'll slip you!"

Jeffrey immediately stood up and held Marla to prevent her from hurting Sean. "Hey, hey, take it easy," he demanded. "It was an accident."

"He was an accident!"

"Marla, please be nice."

"I think I've done too much," said Sean. "Sorry for spilling my gift on your girlfriend."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not!" Marla almost shrieked, trying to shake Jeffrey off.

"Marla, calm down."

Sean walked away and found his friends who laughed as they watched what happened from afar.

"She looks mad," commented Kent.

"She was," said Sean, "but not mad enough."

"I have an idea."

Kent opened his jacket and from the inside pocket pulled out a ziplock bag of baked beans.

"Ew, what are you doing with beans in your jacket?" wondered Skye.

"I wanted my lunch to have a little pizzazz."

From the same pocket, Kent also pulled out a plastic spork. He sprinted away with the band watching him. Once Kent reached the phonecase stand, he crouched down and hid behind it. He peeked at Marla who was inaudibly screaming at Jeffrey and tugging at her skirt.

Kent settled the bag on the floor and snapped it open. He scooped a spoonful of the beans with his spork and peeked at the couple once more. He stretched his spork back with a couple beans dripping off. He tried to make a good aim by closing one of his eyes. Until he got a good angle, he released his finger to fling the spork. With a far distance, the blob of beans flew in the air and perfectly hit Marla in the leg.

"What the frick?" screamed Marla, looking at her leg.

"What?" asked Jeffrey.

"Something hit me!"

"Don't imagine things."

"I'm not imagining!"

Kent snickered. He continued to fill his spoon with baked beans and flick it numerous times, hitting the oblivious Marla on her legs, feet, skirt and shirt. She freaked out as she kept getting hit with beans and eventually moved out the way. As Jeffrey tried to simmer her down, Kent got up and unnoticeably ran over to his friends. They laughed along with him, gazing at the screaming Marla from afar.

"I think she's mad enough," said David.

"What should we do next?" giggled Skye.

"Show Jeffrey your soft side," insisted Sean.

"I have a soft side?"

"Yeah, go over there and be nice or try."

"Ooh, bring her these napkins," Kent said, reaching into the pocket inside his jacket and pulling out several paper napkins.

"Okay, Kent, I'm glad you brought all of this," admitted Skye, "but next time, don't bring anything. This is a mall!"

Kent wagged the napkins at Skye. She grabbed them and walk away from the band towards the unhappy couple. Jeffrey stopped arguing with Marla once he saw Skye, making Marla turn to see who he was looking at.

"Oh, my God, Marla," said Skye. "What happened?"

"I'd tell you but I'd scream," answered Marla.

"Well, good thing I have these napkins because I was ordering food then I saw you."

Marla snatched the napkins away from Skye. "Did you have something to do with this?"

"Why would I fling what appears to be baked beans at you? Where would I get baked beans from?"

"It's probably not beans; it's probably feces because you're an ape."

"Okay, I don't dislike you that much to be throwing feces at you."

"But your broken friend from earlier spilled a soda on me. You probably told him to do that to me."

"No, I didn't."

"Liar, liar, ape on fire."

"Marla, please," begged Jeffrey.

"No, it's okay, Jeffrey," said Skye. "Because you know what, I'm done with trying to be nice to you. You can't get respected if you can't respect others."

"Oh, please, I am respected," sassed Marla.

"Where? The jungle that you came from?"

"You're stealing my comments and making them yours."

"You're right because you're more than an ape, you're a monster."

Skye's band came closer to listen in on the argument.

"Why don't you admit that you're jealous of me?" questioned Marla.

"Jealous of you?" Skye repeated. "Dude, nobody likes you."

"Then why does Jeffy Bear like me? Admit it, you're jealous of me because you want to be with Jeffy."

"First of all, his name is Jeffrey in case you forgot. Second of all, I'm fine with Jeffrey having a girlfriend because I only knew him for a day so there's nothing to say. But the problem is that the girlfriend is you."

"Hey, don't hate on me because you're too ugly to be someone's girlfriend."

"At least people can understand me, Mrs. I'm-Mahrla-Anch-I-Schink-I'm-Liched-By-Erv'ryone-Even-Schough-I'm-Ash-Everl-Ash-Josheph-Schtalin."

"Jeffy, you're not going to let her talk to me like that, are you?"

"No, you should apologize," Jeffrey suggested.

"But do you hear what she's saying to me?"

"Yeah but I hear what you're saying to her. Skye is harmless; please be the bigger person."

"No, you be the bigger person because you need to grow up anyway. Seriously, you're the size of Peter Dinklage."

"Don't insult me, Marla."

"No, you know what? I'm going to get a better boyfriend and tell him to stand up for me because I have that power, Jeffy."

Marla turned away and walked off in fury.

"Jeffrey doesn't need you anyway," Skye shouted, "because he deserves more than a sleazeball."

Marla stopped. Her face boiled red with more anger. She swiftly turned back around and darted towards Skye. Skye smartly ducked with Marla accidently leaping into the water of the fountain. The splash hit Skye's and Jeffrey's legs but it wasn't too big.

"Awesome!" commented Sean.

Marla flipped over and sat up in the water with her hair curling into ringlets and her black eyeliner streaming down her cheeks. She shrieked while splashing the water by pounding down on it forcefully with her fists.

What Does He See in Her? (Chapter 3)

Two days later, Skye almost forgot about her strong infatuation with Jeffrey, the boy she met at Richard party. Over the weekend, instead of hanging out with her girlfriends, she decided to take her bandmates to the mall. She wanted to shop for new wardrobe and needed the boys come along to tell her what they wanted. They conversed as they walked passed shops that didn't interest them.

"Think I can get a snapback?" asked Kent, the band's drummer.

"You don't even know what that is," said Skye.

"Yes, I do, It's a hat that snaps back."

"Whatever. We will see."

"I hate that phrase, 'We will see'," confessed Sean, the rhythm guitarist. "Every time I asked my parents for something, they always said, 'We will see. We will see'. But I never got what I wanted."

"Maybe because you're a bad kid," said David, the lead guitarist.

"Hey, I can behave."

"But when was the last time you behaved?" asked Skye.

"Uh..."

"Three years ago?"

"No, two years ago. So ha!"

"Okay."

"Hey, does Madeline ever talk about me?"

"No, never."

"Have you mentioned me?"

"Yes, she still won't talk about you."

"Maybe that means something."

"Yeah, maybe it doesn't."

"When are you going to stop talking about Madeline?" questioned David.

"Till the day I get her," answered Sean.

Abruptly, Skye stopped walking. She put out her arms to stop the guys from walking.

"Hey, why are we stopping?" asked Kent, bumping into Skye's arm.

She pointed towards herself. There he was: Jeffrey, with Marla, sitting by the white water fountain. Skye was almost bulgy-eyed; she couldn't move.

"Who's that?" Sean questioned.

"Jeffrey," Skye answered quietly.

"Oh, that's Jeffrey?" asked Kent.

"He's hot," Sean commented. "You know, in a non-homosexual type of way."

"Who's the squirrel?" asked David.

"Marla," replied Skye, "his girlfriend."

"I don't get why we're stopping," said Sean.

"I can't just walk pass him."

"Hey, Jeffrey!" Kent shouted, waving. "Over here!"

Skye glared at Kent as she didn't want to be seen.

The calling eventually caught Jeffrey's attention. He awkwardly waved at Skye who awkwardly waved back as well.

Skye reached over and back-handed Kent in the gut. "I didn't want him to see me, doofus!"

"You said you couldn't pass him so I figured that you wanted to say hi first," Kent explained himself.

"Well, you figured wrong!"

Jeffrey motioned his hand at Skye to invite her over. Marla gave him the evil eye but didn't stop him. Skye took her time to walk over to Jeffrey. Her bandmates followed her as they thought the hand motion was to themselves as well.

"Hi," Skye smiled.

"Hi, Skye," Jeffrey greeted back.

"Hello, Marla."

"Hi," Marla cocked her head. "Who are those dudes? Are they all your boyfriends?"

"No, we're just her friends," replied David. "We go to your school just like her."

"I don't remember seeing you."

"That's because we're the aloof kids," said Kent. "We're so cool, we can't be seen."

"That's not it but whatever makes you happy."

Kent's smile quickly dropped to a scowl.

"I didn't know you were coming to the mall," said Jeffrey.

"Well, it's not like I post everything I'm about to do on Facebook," Skye tried to joke.

"I do!" Marla shared. "I think my life is important and it should be to everyone else."

"But I don't know you so your life is not that important to me," Sean commented.

"Can you not talk to me?" she asked in a polite voice with seering rudeness.

Sean looked away.

"Marla, be nice," demanded Jeffrey.

"I can do whatever I want," Marla responded through her teeth.

"So you guys are on a date?" asked Skye.

"Sorta," answered Marla. "Jeffy Bear is buying me anything I want today for our tenth-year anniversary."

"Ten years?"

"Dang, how old are y'all?" asked Kent.

"We're seventeen," answered Jeffrey. "We just have been together ever since we met each other in first grade."

"Wait, you began your relationship in first grade?" Skye asked.

"Mm-hmm," Marla nodded.

"You two just stayed together for ten straight years?"

"Yep."

"Like you didn't break it off after first grade or at least after elementary school?"

"What can I say? He couldn't keep his eyes and hands off me."

Marla wrapped her hands around Jeffrey's neck and interlocked her fingers.

"I find that hard to believe," Sean muttered to Kent.

"Did you say something?" asked Marla.

"You told me not to talk to you," Sean's voice raised in volume.

"So I guess we're going to go," stated Skye, "you know, on our separate ways. It was nice seeing you two... again."

"Can I give you a hug for goodbye?" requested Marla.

"We're not actually leaving. I meant we're going to go shop so we might bump into each other again anyway."

"So can I get a hug in case we don't bump into you again?"

Skye's eyebrows scrunched. "I guess."

Marla stood up and wrapped her arms around Skye. Skye hugged her back awkwardly so she grazed her hands on Marla's back as she felt like she couldn't move her arms.

"I know you like him," Marla whispered into Skye's ear.

Skye's eyes widened.

"Stay away from him. I will break you."

Marla released her and gave her a big smile. Skye just stared at her like she was crazy. Marla sat on Jeffrey's lap and put her arm around him to show Skye had no chance with him. Skye feigned a smile and turned around to direct the guys to walk the other way.

What Does He See in Her? (Chapter 2)

After seeing Jeffrey at school and leaving with his girlfriend, Skye blabbed how foolish she felt and how mad she was to her friends, telling Andrea in the car and texting and calling the rest of the girls. The next day, lunchtime began and Skye was more than ready to continue talking about the situation to her friends.

"I can't be mad at Jeffrey for not telling me he had a girlfriend," she said. "It's not like we were on a date or anything. But he flirted with me and it was very obvious because I can read hidden messages. And his message was that he liked me and wanted me and just became ready to be hung up on me. But that had to be a lie because apparently, he's hung up on someone else."

"I love it when Skye can talk to us like a girl," grinned Madeline.

"And that is just not right... man."

"It's too late, my little Skylar. It's too late."

"Jeffrey just released something inside me that I never thought I had."

"Gas?" Lizzie inquired.

"No, not gas. I don't know what it is but it's still there and I liked it until... you know."

"Why would Jeffrey develop an amazing connection with you if he knew that he had a girlfriend?" asked Andrea.

"Maybe he forgot he had a girlfriend," responded Lizzie.

"Or maybe he's a cheater," added Madeline.

"Come on, guys," Skye rolled her eyes. "He was way too smart and sweet. Even if he did truly like me, he knew that in his mind what he was feeling was wrong and had to stop it. That idiot."

"I can't believe he's dating Marla," commented Andrea.

"Nobody likes Marla," stated Madeline.

"Well, clearly, we're wrong because somebody likes Marla: Jeffrey," Lizzie remarked.

"What I hate is that Marla thinks she's hot stuff when she is obviously not."

"Hey, that is not nice," Debra responded.

"Well, neither is she."

"Looks don't matter. What's hot is smart. Smart is hot."

"She's not smart either."

"Then... I have nothing else to say."

"Since Marla is not hot, does that mean Skye has a chance?" asked Lizzie.

"Shh!" Skye uttered. "We don't want people to hear us talking about somebody."

"But no one likes Marla so who's going to tell her anything?" Andrea questioned.

"Maybe there's a side to Marla that Jeffrey likes," Debra reckoned.

"Whatever that is, I don't even want to know," said Madeline.

"I'm sorry, Skye, but maybe there's something in Marla that Jeffrey is fond of but is not in you."

"So I guess I'm going to let him go," Skye decided.

"However, I did say that fate will bring you two together."

"Yeah, so it can laugh at my face."

"Maybe you should try to steal Jeffrey away from Marla," insisted Lizzie, "like I did with Hank."

"But you and Hank broke up... again."

"Please don't remind me."

What Does He See in Her? (Chapter 1)

"Do you think Lizzie has a shopping problem?" asked Andrea, individually placing her books into her shimmery backpack.

"I feel she does but I don't have any precise proof," answered Skye. "Why did you ask?"

"Because I'm running out of space in my trunk and Lizzie keeps putting her items in there."

"Well, tell her to put them in her car."

"I did. She can't because her trunk is full of her clothes."

"Then it is likely that she does have a shopping problem."

"I know, right? And she can't put some of her clothes in Madeline's car because that trunk is full of clothes."

"Where does Lizzie get all of her money again? Because I know that she's not allowed to have a job."

"Her parents just throw money in her face. It's ridiculous."

"Making it rain. Are we sure that her parents are conservative?"

Andrea chuckled. "I'm kind of envious."

"Are the secret compartments in her closet full, too?"

"Skye, you know the answer."

"I know all answers."

Andrea stood up and threw her backpack over her shoulder, into her arm. "So you want to get some food later?"

"Nah, I have homework."

"You can do your homework in my car."

"No, you have road rage so it's kind of hard to concentrate or keep my pen still."

"Hey, if there wasn't so many pinheads on the road, I wouldn't have to drive like Miss Daisy meets Evel Knievel."

Skye snickered. She flipped her short hair by twisting her neck. That led to her looking over her shoulder and losing her smile. She saw from a not so far distance a pale-skinned boy in a gray flannel shirt. She recognized him from his hair to his glasses. It was Jeffrey, the boy Skye met at Richard's party not too long ago. Skye was shocked and thrilled to him. When he looked over his shoulder and saw Skye, her demeanor turned down into a chill state. He walked up to her with a smirk on his face.

"Skye?" Jeffrey pointed.

"Jeffrey?" Skye smiled.

"Oh, man! I almost forgot, you told me you went here."

"Too bad you forgot; I remembered."

Jeffrey chuckled. "You still got that sense of humor."

"Well, I still got a lot of things."

"Nice to meet you," he waved at Andrea. "I'm Jeffrey."

"Me llamo Andrea," she greeted back.

"Does she speak English?" Jeffrey asked Skye.

"Only on a good day," she replied before chuckling.

"It's so good to see you."

"You, too. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh, I'm visiting someone."

"Oh." Skye looked down and blinked numerous times. She knew that she wasn't the one he wanted to visit. "Who are you visiting?" she looked up.

"Jeffy Bear?" shouted a girl's voice from far away.

Skye and Andrea looked behind themselves. They spotted a skinny girl, about four yards from them, with red hair tied in a ponytail, bearing teeth glued with blue braces, and sporting a maroon marching band uniform.

"There's my Jeffy Bear," she called, sprinting towards the teens. She jumped up and embraced Jeffrey who caught her and held her up. He spun her around as her weight made him a bit unsteady. "You actually came," she squealed. "Finally!"

"Marla," Andrea and Skye said simultaneously and unenthusiastic.

"I said I'd come, Marla," Jeffrey said, looking up at her.

"Yeah, but you say you'd do a lot of things so..." Marla poked Jeffrey on the nose.

Jeffrey gently put Marla down. She pulled her jacket down then quickly gave Jeffrey one more squeeze.

"So... you're dating Marla, I see," Skye smiled to be polite.

"Yeah, we've been together for almost forever," Marla said with a subtle lisp. "How do you two know each other?"

"Oh, we met at some gathering," answered Jeffrey. "I tried to make a friend and there she was."

"Yeah, there I was," Skye nodded.

"I'm so proud of you for trying to make new friends," Marla put her hand on her chest. "But next time, make friends with a boy, okay?"

"I guess," Jeffrey almost muttered.

"Don't stare at him too hard, ladies. I got a long list of ex-lovers and there's a blank space but I am not writing his name. I will tell you that right now."

Andrea and Skye just stared at Marla in their own blank expressions. Marla smiled pretentiously and interlocked her arm with Jeffrey's. She turned him around and they walked together out of the school through the doors.

"I can't believe that Jeffrey has a girlfriend," said Skye, "and I never knew. I guess we weren't meant to be together like I thought."

"Is there a pimple behind my ear?" Andrea chose to ask, tucking her curly lock behind her ear.

The School President of the United States (Chapter 5)

The girls waited for Madeline in the cafeteria after hearing big news. They stood up by their table and looked at the door. It took only two minutes for Madeline enter after the girls did. Once they saw her and she was close enough, Lizzie threw out a long, purple streamer that was restricted in her hand over Madeline's shoulder.

"Surprise!" she shouted.

Skye blew into a paper horn that she held which produced a tooting noise.

"Ready?" Lizzie asked the girls. "One, two, three..."

The girls started to sing in almost perfect unison:

Oh, for she's a jolly good fellow

For she's a jolly good fellow

For she's a jolly good fellow...

Which nobody can deny

Except for the people who don't like her

They might deny that

But it's okay because we like her

Madeline snickered a bit. "I see you heard the news."

"Of course, Maddie," said Lizzie, walking up to Madeline. "Or should I say Laguna Beach High's student body president of 2014?"

"Congradulations!" squealed Debra.

Lizzie hugged Madeline.

"Thank you," smiled Madeline.

Once Lizzie released her, the girls sat down at their table.

"Oh, what's it like to be president, President Maddie?" asked Andrea.

"It puts a sweet taste in my mouth. It's sugary, delightful and totally kicks butt!"

"I made you a tiara," said Lizzie, picking up a paper crown decorated in marker that rested on the table.

"Lizzie, I'm president, not princess," Madeline shook her head. The she paused. "But give me that." She swiped the crown and placed it on her fair-haired head.

"I made it in art class."

"When?" asked Skye. "In kindergarten?"

Lizzie wasn't fazed; she giggled it off.

"Thank you, Lizzie," said Madeline. "Just thank you, all of you."

"We believed in you," started Debra, "but truthfully, we had no idea you'd win."

"I had no idea either."

"Maybe people really liked what you said," guessed Andrea.

"I don't even remember what I said. But it was obviously awesome."

"Chrissy and A.J. didn't have a chance anyway," remarked Skye. "They were...them. You were you. You were real."

"I still can't believe that they did all those things to you," said Lizzie, leaning down.

"Well, I didn't have to report those things because I would've won anyway," Madeline responded.

"Speaking of the devil," Andrea said softly, leaning back and seeing Chrissy and A.J. walking together towards their table.

"We were talking about devils?" questioned Lizzie.

"No, I meant they're coming."

Madeline spun out of her seat and stood up to face Chrissy and A.J. at their level.

"Hello, Shia LeBouf," greeted Chrissy with a devilish voice.

A.J. waved.

"Hello, Jekyll and Hyde," Madeline replied.

"We want to say we're sorry," said Chrissy more sincerely.

"I'm more sorry," A.J. cut in.

"We didn't mean to draw on you with marker."

"Or fling oatmeal in your face."

"Or hot glue your pencil pouch shut."

"Or walk you into a door with a water bucket on top of it."

"Nevertheless, we're sorry."

"Yeah, you know what they say: 'Let the best man win'. And obviously, at the end of the day, the best man won."

"Well, thank you for calling me a man," smirked Madeline.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Listen, Maddie," Chrissy took a step closer, "we let the wonders of leadership get inside our heads, especially me. Can you forgive me? Can we go back to being friends and debate club members?"

Madeline looked up at the ceiling to think, but she knew her answer. "Of course," she answered after a pause.

Chrissy grinned then hugged Madeline who hugged her back. A.J. broke the five second long hug by softly pushing Chrissy away on her chest.

"Since you forgive her, I assume you forgive me," he supposed. "I'm not going to be a dog and ask for a hug so I would like to ask for a handshake."

Madeline shrugged. "Of course."

A.J. put out his hand so Madeline can grab it and shake it.

"I'm so glad we're on good terms," she started, "because now things can go back to normal and we--"

Madeline stopped talking when she saw A.J. start to lean forward with his eyes closed and lips puckered. She leaned back so her face would not touch his face.

"What are you doing?" she asked, disgusted.

A.J. opened his eyes and stood up straight. "I thought you were going to kiss me."

Madeline let go of his hand. "I was talking. No!"

"I'm sorry, do you have a boyfriend?"

"No!"

"So that means I have a chance?"

"No!"

"I'm going to leave now."

"Yes!"

A.J. looked down and spun ninety degrees before walking far away from Madeline's table.

"I love your crown," Chrissy complimented. "So eighties!"

The School President of the United States (Chapter 4)

Weeks had passed and finally, the day was here: election day. Madeline avoided as many obstacles as she could, regarding her fellow candidates who showed their true colors to her. She was relieved to make it out alive. Now students, including Madeline's best friend, came to the auditorium to see the three candidates debate on stage.

An older gentleman walked across the stage, making the clamoring teenagers silence. "Hello, Laguna Beach High," he declared into his microphone. "Welcome to the student body election of 2014. I am Mister Huffington and I am here to present the competitors for office: Chrissy Walker, A.J. Hart, and Madeline King."

The three walked out on stage towards their own podiums. Before they stood behind the podiums, Chrissy and A.J. walked out looking confident followed by Madeline whose clothes were drenched along with her hair and face.

"Miss King, why are you wet?" asked Huffington, who turned around to look at the candidates.

"It's a long story," Madeline awkwardly giggled, standing before her podium.

"Well, then, let the games begin. So, nominees, you are going to explain why do you believe that you should be elected for student body president. Take as much time as you need as the students here will be voting. Commence speeches."

Mister Huffington walked off the stage to leave the candidates by themselves and let the witnessing students from the seats have a better view.

"Well, I think that I should be elected student body president," started Chrissy, "because the school needs people like me. I am academically successful so I would be mentally able to run the metaphorical office of Laguna Beach High School. I have many skills including ensembling a funky style." She motioned to her outfit of prints and patterns. "I feel it is important to have a leader with numerous skills because knowledge is needed everywhere. I am a member of the debate club so I know how to speak for the people. And I'm pretty and likeable so you must vote for me! Thank you."

"That was lame," A.J. commented. "I believe that I should be president because why not? I mean I never get D's or E's; I barely get B's and C's. I get A's all day, every day."

"I get A's, too."

"Yeah, like once a year. Anyway, you're going to need a president who is highly intelligent, someone who knows what they're doing. I was born to be a leader. I'm Barack Obama without the tan. When I look at all of you, I see bright futures. Well, not for all of you but some of you. But that's okay because I will make your future bright, brighter than the stars. I will make you remember me because how can you forget this face? Let my gorgeousness soak into you and get you a better life. You know you can't do it by yourself."

"Wow, way to sound pretentious, A.J."

"Like 'I'm pretty and likeable' didn't sound pretentious."

"Hey, it's true."

"Chrissy, that will be true once socks come to life and eat us."

"Boy, I will knock that Jon Hamm tie right off your neck."

"Please be courteous, nominees," requested Huffington.

"Sorry, Mister Huffington. I just want the students to feel close to me. I want to be their best friend who gives them fashion advice."

"The school doesn't need fashion advice," said A.J. "They need better cafeteria grub. Seriously, there is more juice on the pizza than there is in the cartons. Gross."

"But I love Greasy Pizza Fridays. I like to pretend to eat them so people can think I can eat whatever I want... not that I do that."

"Madeline, why are you so quiet over there?"

Madeline looked up.

"Yeah, Madeline, if you have something to say, say it," said Chrissy. "We're saying things."

"Okay," Madeline said before clearing her throat. "Hi," she uttered into the microphone. "I-- I, uh-- I believe... that I don't deserve to be president. I will tell you why: I'm not the right person for this position. I mean I get amazing grades and I have a big future planned ahead of me. But I'm just not ready; I don't get it. I don't get what responsibilities will be brought to me. It's always been my dream to be president for something and school president was actually a goal for me. But I'm not as perfect as you think I am. I lie and I freak out and there was a time I vomited all over Richard's bushes but I won't get into it. The point is that I try to use my 'hot girl' image to sell T-shirts and hang posters like a superstar. But I'm not and I need time to accept that. Don't get me wrong, I want to give you all the world. I want to inspire you, I want to give you hope, I want to make you feel important because we all are. But don't look up to me, look up to Chrissy or A.J. They made me realize that I was looking for a game to play which is not how life goes. I was prepared to make you all promises but instead, I should've been prepared to accept my soul before I let anyone look at me on the outside. It's the inside that matters. So I'm going to go so you can vote for a real student body president which is not me. Girls, can you please take me home?"

Madeline's girlfriends individually but instantly stood up from their seats and scooted out to walk in front of the stage. Madeline walked down the stairs on the side and was met by her friends.

"I'm sorry your dream's not going to come true, Madeline," confessed Debra.

"It's okay," said Madeline with a half-smile. "I have other dreams. Now can you take me to the dry cleaners? I want to ask the lady if they are willing to put me in the dryer."

The School President of the United States (Chapter 3)

Two days later, Madeline found success in her campaign. Many people were buying her shirts, taking her flyers, retrieving bracelets. The list went on and on and so far, Madeline thought she was doing a great job convincing others to look at her the way she wanted to be looked at.

She decided to stay late after school to participate in debate club. Once it was over, Madeline walked out into the hallways with her acquaintance and fellow candidate, Chrissy Walker.

"Did you see Samantha's outfit today?" asked Chrissy.

"Oh, yeah," Madeline replied. "It was so eighties."

"So eighties. It was like Grease."

"Grease took place in the sixties."

"But it was made in the eighties."

"No, it was made in the seventies."

"Don't correct me!"

"Sorry."

"But I love it."

"I loved it, too."

"So eighties."

"Eighties, man!"

The girls giggled until they stopped to see one of Madeline's posters which was hung up on an empty wall, vandalized. With black magic marker, Madeline's eyes were drawn with X's, a tongue stuck out her pink mouth and her face with stippled with supposedly pimples. Madeline stared at the poster with horror while Chrissy stared in shock.

"What the--?" Madeline started. She walked closer to the poster. "Who-- Who-- What?!"

"Oh, Madeline, that is so messed up," Chrissy commented.

"Why would... someone... draw over my poster like that?"

"Don't get upset, Maddie. Maybe this is the only poster that got ruined."

Madeline's eyes widened. She looked down the hall, realizing that she hung up another poster not too far from the poster in front of her. She speed-walked towards it with every detail slowly appearing before her eyes. She stopped an inch in front of the wall with Chrissy coming her way. The other poster was drawn over the same way as the first poster, except devil ears were drawn on Madeline's head and glasses were placed over her eyes.

"I didn't know the devil liked to read," stated Chrissy.

Madeline glared at Chrissy.

"You know because you're wearing reading-- Nevermind."

"I can't believe somebody would be so ignorant to do something like that," shared Madeline.

"Are you going to drop out from the campaign?"

"I don't know; people sure want me to but I had no idea. Oh, my, I'm gonna cry."

"You don't look like you're going to cry."

"Because it takes me a while!" Madeline later snatched Chrissy's olive-colored purse from her arm. "Do you have any tissues?" she asked while unzipping it.

"No, but I can get you some." Chrissy grabbed onto her purse. "No tissues in my bag."

After reaching into the purse, Madeline pulled out a black marker. She stared it down in confusion before staring down Chrissy in pure anger.

"Madeline, it's not what you think," Chrissy giggled nervously.

Madeline's face balled up in fury.

"Anybody can own a black magic marker that they can put in their purse. That doesn't mean anything, Madeline."

"My posters did not look like this when I went to debate club," Madeline growled. "Did you do this when you supposedly 'had to go to bathroom'?"

"No, I actually had to use the bathroom."

"Then why did it take you fifteen minutes to use it?"

"Explosive diarrhea?"

"Chrissy, I'm going to count to one--"

"Oh, come on."

"--and if you don't tell me the truth, I will--"

"Fine, I did it!"

"Why? Why would you scribble on my posters?"

"So you can drop out."

"What?!"

"Everybody likes you. You just have 'the package' that everyone is looking for. I find that unfair. In order for me to win this race, you're going to have to not be in it."

"Chrissy, we're friends. You can't betray me like this."

"Oh, yes, I can. Power over companionship. I'm hashtagging it!"

"No, you cannot hashtag that," Madeline threw the marker at Chrissy's chest. "You're playing dirty on purpose; it's not my fault that people like me."

"Oh, yes, it is. And you're abusing that fact to get what you want."

"Oh, I always get what I want but I don't abuse anything when I do!"

"Girls, girls," a teenage boy said, coming from almost nowhere, breaking the girls up. "What is going on?"

The boy wore a buttoned flannel shirt with burgundy glasses and held a small, green box with a silver ribbon.

"Chrissy is being an unfair candidate," replied Madeline. "She vandalized all of my posters."

"More like most of your posters," Chrissy corrected. "I tried to get them all but I didn't want to get caught."

"Anyway, she's trying to make me crack and forfeit the campaign. She needs to be prohibited, A.J."

"Chrissy, I don't believe you," A.J. said, walking up towards her. "How are you going to be president if you're dishonest? I shall report you to Mrs. Reuben or Mr. Burbank so they can enjoin you from the campaign."

Chrissy scoffed before looking down in what felt to be defeat.

A.J. turned around to face Madeline. "I'm so sorry, Madeline. If we're going to do this race, we're going to do this the clean way. Also, I brought you a gift." He held up the box to Madeline's chest level.

"Oh, thanks, A.J.," she smiled. "It's good to get along with someone who is not looking for a fight." She flipped off the lid of the box and unawaringly, a thick, beige substance shot out and hit Madeline directly in the face.

A.J. and Chrissy laughed as Madeline dropped the box on the floor and wiped the matter from her mascara eyes.

"What is this?" Madeline almost screamed.

"Oatmeal," answered A.J. "Like my little 'Oatmeal in a Box' toy?"

"Did you get that from the prank store?" asked Chrissy.

"Yes, I surely did."

"Nice."

"A.J., what the heck?" Madeline screamed that time, flinging the oatmeal down on the floor.

"Two words: drop out," A.J. disclosed. "It's that simple."

"Wha-- You want me to drop out, too?"

"Hello! Yeah, I do. Do you realize how many people like you? Nope, not on my watch."

"Why am I being dogged on for being liked? Being liked is so easy!"

"Not easy for us," Chrissy jumped in.

"I was so excited to run for president," confessed A.J., "until I heard you, Madeline King, decided to sign up. I'd be glad to do this with anyone but you."

"I thought we were friends," stated Madeline with her voice turning high-pitched.

"Oh, we are and we still will be once me or Chrissy wins," said A.J.

"So you both are turning against me?"

Chrissy picked up her magic marker, popped off the cap and pointed the marker at Madeline like a sword. "What's your favorite color, punk?" she quoted.

A.J. picked up his box and put the lid back on, leering at Madeline with a smirk.

"Not black," Madeline responded before running away as fast as she could.

Chrissy and A.J. chased after her with their "weapons".

The School President of the United States (Chapter 2)

The week after, early in the morning, everything got set up to help with Madeline's campaign at Laguna Beach High. A stand was open for selling friendship bracelets; posters of Madeline were hung up on the walls; Skye's rock band settled their instruments outside in front of the entrance doors. As more teens came to school, Madeline handed out her stack of fliers to anyone trying to pass her by.

"Vote for me," she told one kid, "Madeline King. I beez in the trap." She handed out another flyer to a different kid. "Vote for me; I'm Madeline King. I beez in the trap."

Soon, she was approached by a positive Lizzie.

"Hello, candidate Maddie," she greeted.

"Well, hello, assistant Lizzie," Madeline greeted back.

Lizzie giggled. "I'm an assistant. How's your campaign going?"

"It's going sweet. Everybody is accepting my flyers and checking out my merchandise." Madeline passed out a flyer to another passing student. "I'm Madeline King," she told him. "Vote for me; I beez in the trap."

"What does 'beez in the trap' mean?" asked Lizzie.

"I don't know. But it's garnering lots of attention."

"You are so gonna win that election."

"I know. Have you seen my poster?"

Lizzie shook her head. Madeline motioned her a couple of feet towards a nearby bulletin. Over it was a high-definition poster of Madeline posing like a supermodel with the slogan in big purple letters, "Vote for Mads. She is rad!"

"Wow, you look like a rockstar," Lizzie commented. "Not one of those loud, dirty, drug-addicted rockstars. Like one of the simple rockstars. The rockstars for kids."

"Gee, thanks," Madeline looked up into space. Then her eyes illuminated with a reminder. "And speaking of rockstars..."

Madeline led Lizzie out of the school through the doors and showed her where Skye and her bandmates resided. Skye's band was performing a song on their instruments for arriving students with a hard rock noise. Skye sung melodically to the microphone on its stand:

Vote for Maddie, she's so cool

Vote for Maddie, she rules the school

Vote for Maddie, she's so cute

She can help everyone of you

Vote for Madeline King, King, King

You can kiss her ring, ring, ring

Aw, yeah

The students applauded the band when they finished effortlessly. Madeline and Lizzie entered the crowd and stood right in front of Skye.

"Very impressive, Skye," Madeline complimented.

"Thanks," Skye responded beside her microphone. "Oh, and Maddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Write better songs."

Madeline squinted her eyes at Skye. She then got over it and walked away with Lizzie.

"We don't get paid enough for this," said Sean, the rhythm guitarist.

"We don't get paid at all," added David, the lead guitarist, walking by.

Madeline and Lizzie entered back into the school and walked through the lobby. Then Madeline stopped, making Lizzie stop.

"Wait, did you produce the T-shirts?" Madeline asked.

Lizzie's eyes widened, not enough to look surprised. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I left them in my car."

"Can you get them?"

"Of course."

Lizzie turned around and headed for the door. As Lizzie walked off, Madeline noticed something strange about her. Something strange going on behind Lizzie. Then she spotted it: the back of Lizzie's right sleeve of her green top was split. It was strange because nothing was wrong with the left sleeve and the split looked as if it was cut from a pair of scissors.

"Lizzie," called Madeline.

Lizzie stopped then turned. "Hmm?"

"What's wrong with your sleeve?"

Lizzie scoffed. "Nothing."

"No, something's wrong. Why is your sleeve cut?"

Lizzie looked down at her right sleeve. "I-- I have no idea. Maybe it-- it wanted fresh air."

"It wanted fresh air?"

"You know because sleeves can get a little tight sometimes."

"But your sleeves are baggy."

"Really? I had no idea."

"Did you get your shirt stuck in the sewing machine again?"

"You have no proof!" Lizzie ran off before Madeline could say something else.