Cliche | Dead Poets Society

THREE.

CHAPTER THREE.
( a bitter hearts club )

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Cheryl Edwards was enjoying her stay at Welton, so far. She was fascinated by the beaultiful architechture, and was looking forward to the challenging classes. And though these aspects were exciting and very anticipated, they weren't exactly new.

Cheryl had five siblings, four brothers and one sister. Her younger sister was the darling baby of the family, always being doted upon by someone. She thanked God everyday for the oppurtunity to be away from her while she attended Henley Hall. Her brothers were all older than her, already attending Ivy League colleges half way across the country. But, before they went to college, they too attended Welton, and Cheryl was reminded of that every family day, when she and her parents came to visit.

She had seen most of the boys in this school already. Seen them hanging around her brothers, probably smoking weed behind the toilet stalls in the bathroom. She had even met some of them, when her brothers would invite them over for dinner and then ask them to sleep over. She thought they were pretty good friends.

Then, her brothers left, and their friends stopped coming over, and Cheryl was alone again. Yes, she did have her own friends, but nothing compared to the bonds she had with the rambunctious group of guys her brothers would introduce her to.

That was, until she met two brunettes with dangerous smiles and mischief up their sleeves.

Cheryl sat down on her uncomfortable bed, stretching her long legs out in front of her. A small smile had found its way to her lips, as she thought about her family and friends. She loved them all to peices, she really did.

But...

But, no matter how much Cheryl loved them, it could not save them from simple truths, one being that Cheryl was the least favorite.

She had known it her whole life. She had always known that she would be number six on her parents' scale of important parenting matters, always known that no matter how much her brothers' friends liked her, they would never like her as much as they liked her Jonathon, or Sean, or William, or Michael, or Lillian, or anyone.

And Violet and Madeline. Oh, well, Violet and Madeline loved Cheryl like an old friend, loved her with a bond no one could top. Except, there was a bond that one could top that kind of love with, and that was the kind of love Violet and Madeline had for each other. They loved each other like sisters, more than that, if her own sister was anything to go off of. They were there for each other, long before Cheryl had ever even been introduced into the picture. And that was why, even in her own friendships, Cheryl would always be number two to either of them.

She sighed and sat down at her desk, taking a mirror out of her bag, and placing it on the surface before her. She looked at her face with disdain, taking her makeup and placing it in front of her. She applied the various powders to her face, starting small at first, but soon, it blossomed into pounds upon pounds, as she desprately tried to make someone new, someone who she, herself, could love.

Her eyes burned with unfallen tears, but she would not let herself release them. To let herself free, meant destroying the only version of herself she would ever be able to tolerate. It was never good enough, she was never good enough.