Chapter Seven: Sugar We're Going Down and I am Taking You With Me

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Hi. I'm the author. And I would really like to just say that I PERSONALLY do believe that cheerleading is a sport. I really do, I am not just saying to get all of y'all off my ball sack. Austin, the main character, does not see it that way. Actually, a lot of High School Jocks do not see cheerleading as an actual sport. Dip wads I know, but I mean they are teenagers. And teenagers say and do stupid things.

Trust me, they will grow out of it.

Sorry to have offended so many people because MY CHARACTER has a certain opinion.

Today is a new day, and tomorrow an even newer one. So, lets just get past this VERY fictional story with VERY fictional opinions which in no case should offend your very real emotions.

All in all, do not hate because a CHARACTER has an opinion, yes an opinion I chose for her, but none the less AN OPINION. One that most people like her - jock-strap wearing (not really) sports junkie - would have.

Thank you and have a lovely day.

Love,

A very rude, offensive, has no idea what cheer leading is (I was a competitive cheerleader, true fact) piece of shit (apparently)

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Chapter 7: Sugar We're Going Down and I am Taking You With Me

"Drop a heart, break a name
We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team

We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it"

-Sugar We're Going Down, Fall Out Boy


 BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...

 One of these fateful days that alarm clock will meet an explicitly painful death at the cause of my bare hands. I am not ever remotely kidding. If this darned alarm clock wakes me up any earlier, taking me out of my slumber again, I am going to throw it across the room, stomp on it, and then bury it six feet under the earth, possibly to China. Oh god, it is only the third day of being at this god forsaken football camp and I am already planning an inanimate objects demise, lord help us all.

 Slamming my petite fist hard on the black snooze button I groggily moved my arms to the air and arched my back to stretch, popping my joints in the process, and removed the covers to get ready for another day in hell. Although I have to admit, the work isn't as hard as I thought it would be. It was more emotional stress, from hiding my gender from the populace, along with the physical soreness from yesterday's gear-down trials. As of right now I am on first string (probably because my mile time was so awesome) and I had three acquaintances. I didn't actually know if they were my 'friends' due to the fact that I had no idea how the male species came about making friends.

For girls it was really complex, usually we bonded through gossip, hardships, and lady problems and we always seemed to be a bit skeptical about a new friendship. Some were open to the idea of meeting new girls and quickly becoming 'BFFs', but others- and more frequently than not- strayed from putting their heart on their sleeves because, in all honesty, girls could be extremely ruthless when it came to back stabbing. However, I didn't know how it worked for guys. I figured- from what I have observed- that as long as you were chill and didn't start drama or any other stuff, you were automatically in. Boys, although not always, tended to more lenient when it came to accepting friends unlike their female counterparts. So for the sake of labels and to add simplicity to my hectic life, they will be referred to as 'acquaintances'. Besides the fewer friends I made, and the farther I strayed from them emotionally, the easier it would be to reveal myself once I have finished my mission. No close relations, no tears. For me that is, I doubt me being a chick would bring tears to any boy, but hey, you never know, right?

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