Breaking Free from Everyday

Chapter 1: Seeing a Ghost

Ok. First attempt at writing a story. I don't expect anyone to read it, but whoever does, please give your HONEST opinion.

I rewrote this chapter, so if you read the first version, this one is probably better. I think it is.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 1: Seeing a Ghost

Melanie

I try not to look extremely bored as I munched my chocolate chip granola bar. The cafeteria was filled with jabbering voices and a hubbub of laughter and shouting, but I attempted to listen to the girls talking about the same crap that they did everyday: boys. Specifically, boys on the football team. Who could possibly be the hottest? It was a really important conversation to them, as I heard the same debate every day.

"Oh my God! Doesn't James look HOT in his jersey today?"

"He is nothing compared to Nick. His blue eyes are  SO beautiful."

"No way! Matt's hair is so gorgeous. Did you see the way it flips when he moves his head?"

"Adam is SO much better! He smiled at me in Chemistry today. He has such nice teeth!"

I try not to heave out a sigh. Does it matter? Boys are all the same. Gross. I guess I was strange, for being a 17 year old girl that still thought that most boys had cooties, but they were all just so disgusting. They ogled at every girl that had any assets at all, (which was everyone), and whenever I was in my cheer skirt I felt like a piece of meat that all these male predators were hoping to sink their teeth into. I never asked for this when I signed up to be a cheerleader freshman year.

It was now the second week of school, senior year, and I still had to deal with the same drooling boys and gossiping girls. This was the worst part of being a cheerleader. I had to pretend I cared about boys, my precious figure, and the attention I was given because of it. I mean, the outfit was cute, albeit slightly slutty, but that was to be expected, as it was a cheerleading uniform.

I didn't ask for all the bitches that either naturally had, or bleached their hair blonde, becoming the stereotypical sluts of high school. Truly, every single cheerleader had blonde hair, except for me. I was special. I had red hair, not fire truck red, but natural red. I was unique. But that had nothing to do with the other girls on the team, who wore pushup bras to show even more cleavage and let our uniform top slide up, exposing their stomachs. They had their skirts extra high, showing as much leg as possible. They barely covered their butts. They kept on getting perverted looks from the football team's table, winking at them in return. I gagged. It was pitiful how much my high school resembled the set of Mean Girls or something.

At least my uniform looked how it was supposed to. It was brick red in the middle, with LIONS written in block letters across the chest with a white lion drawn below it. The bottom was a red pencil skirt that was made to go mid-thigh but what cheerleader wouldn't let it ride up a little? The answer to that would be me.

The girls giggled again about Jared's huge biceps that were "just asking to be touched" and I felt slightly awkward. Sure, I was a cheerleader, but that didn't mean I exactly fit in with them. Becca made sure of that one. She was self-proclaimed "Head Bitch" of the cheer squad.Becca and I were named co-captains of the team this year, since we were the best seniors on the squad. She wasn't exactly happy about it. Well actually,  to put it nicely, Becca was pissed. She was once what people would call a friend to me, but that relationship was long gone. She hated me for reasons unknown, but I wasn't too upset about it (anymore). We had started cheerleading together back in third grade. But once we started high school, she started soaking in the popularity, and I just stayed for the actual sport. I remained for the jumps and cheers, the reactions the crowd had when we danced around, the enthusiasm of everyone at the game, roaring and screaming. I could care less about the popularity. I wasn't about to reject the attention, I enjoyed it, but it was just a perk, (except for the creeps who liked to stare at my ass).