Choice of the Cheerleader
01 – Illness of the Cynic Chick
It may be said that a massive change of events may start
by something which would otherwise be insignificant changing. For instance;
Brittany Taylor upon being invited to the Zon, Zone or Zen Nightclub by a boy
named Terry, or Jerry, deciding to ask her stepmother for help dying her hair
instead of doing it herself.
“So, why do you want to do it, honey?” Ashley Amber Taylor
asked her stepdaughter after she had asked.
“It would be something different,” Brittany answered. “I
would do it myself, but I thought you would do it better.”
“Just because it’s something different?” Ashley Amber
asked. She knew Brittany was hiding something.
“Yes!” Brittany said.
“Ok, We will run out and get the dye.”
“Sure!”
Half an hour later, they were ready with the dye Ashley
Amber had helped Brittany choose. A dye that was an appropriately dark colour,
and which wouldn’t leak out all over the place.
However, seeing the state of the nightclub and Terry or
Jerry having abandoned her after one dance, Brittany was miffed. The music was
totally assaulting her ears and Andrea was also there (of course she was)
giving her a raised eyebrow. She retreated into a restroom. “I can’t stand
this! What was I thinking?”
“Brittany?” came a voice to her left.
Was that Daria? “All right, so Kevin is a stupid,
selfish, conceited jerk. He's still better than Terry or Jerry or whatever his
name is and this stupid club.” She had had enough.
“Who's Terry or Jerry?” Daria Morgendorffer asked.
‘Oops!’ She didn’t want anyone to know. “Oh, no! I've
said too much!” She saw that something was up with Daria. “Eww. What happened
to your neck?”
It was kinda, red. “Huh?”
“Your neck. It's all, like, blotchy.”
Daria looked closely at her reflection. “Ugh. I don't
know.”
That was something else wrong. “I'm not surprised you
could catch something in a horrible place like this.”
“Uh, Brittany, could you do me a favour?”
She wasn’t sure. “Um... yes?”
“Find Jane and tell her I had to leave?”
She could do that, but… “Sure, but... will you promise
not to tell Kevin about Terry or Jerry or whoever?”
“In the unlikely event that, through some bizarre set of
circumstances, I actually end up conversing with Kevin, I won't tell him about
Terry or Jerry,” Daria responded.
“Thanks.”
“Daria? You’re in there?” an older guy asked at the door.
“Don’t worry.” Brittany went to the door and found that
it was one of the singers of that terrible band that had been playing. “Have
some consideration for female modesty, please!”
“Oh, sure, sorry,” the guy said.
She went back to where Daria had entered a stall as four
others exited another one. “I’ll tell Jane.”
“I won’t tell Kevin.”
“Brittany?” Jane Lane asked when another girl came up to
her and Trent. She wasn’t sure why the usually blonde cheerleader had dyed her
hair a dark colour, but it looked good on her. The loose waves also looked
better than the pigtails. ‘Why am I appraising her hair?’ She supposed it would
make for a good portrait.
“Daria asked me to tell you that she had to leave.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” Brittany said.
“But why would she tell you instead of coming to me.”
“She had her reasons.” Brittany turned her head to the
side with her arms crossed.
“Right…”
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