Damaged goods
- Reads 613
- Votes 16
- Parts 5
Being the head cheerleader is a difficult job.
'The stupid blonde with the pretty face, using all her energy sleeping around with the good looking guys on the football team. The most effort she has to put into anything is keeping fit and in with the latest fashion trends.'
That's what people think I'm like. In reality I'm completely different, a shell of a person... I guess I'm what they call damaged goods.
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cheerleader
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In every stupid and cliché teen fiction story, there's always the blonde cheerleader that people think is a complete bitch and acts as the sinister antagonist of the story. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm that blonde cheerleader that people think is a complete bitch and acts as the sinister antagonist of the story. Is it my fault that I was born with this hair color or with the blue eyes? Is it my fault that I worked hard to be the leader of the cheer team? And how come there's always this goody-two-shoes who comes in and rains on my parade? Let's list off the criteria: Blonde? Obviously. Blue eyes? Like, as you say, "a reflection of the ocean" Cheerleader? Complete with the uniform. Bimbo? My grades beg to differ. A bitch? I'm not even going to deny it. Antagonist? Well, I'll let you be the judge of that.
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