Some people hated moving, especially in high school. High school, they would complain, is a four-year experience that has to be lived in the same town, with the same people, same environment, same, well,… everything, basically. Otherwise, life would utterly be ruined and you would die. More or less.
Strangely enough, this wasn’t the case with a particular girl that went by the name of Buffy Summers.
At the moment, she was staring at the full-length mirror at her polo-shirt and khaki pants claden body, reminiscing the old days. Well, not so much with the reminiscing, and more with the shuddering-at-the-dreadful-memory. It all started on a bright sunny morning on the first day of kindergarten. A day that all kids looked forward to…
**flashback – kindergarten**
“Hi, I’m Melanie, what’s your name?” the dark-haired, bouncy girl asked Buffy with a toothy grin. Buffy grinned back, happy to have made a friend so quickly.
“My name’s Buffy!” she replied happily.
Melanie wrinkled her nose. “Buffy? Like huffy Buffy? Shmuffy Buffy, Fluffy Wuffy!”
Buffy blinked. She didn’t understand the girl’s problem. “Yeah!”
“I hate you,” Melanie decided, turning her back on the blonde in pigtails. “Buffy’s a stupid name.”
And so it had continued through first grade, elementary school, intermediate, and when she thought junior high would change all things… it hadn’t. First off, she tried out for the cheerleading squad. Big mistake that turned out to be, earning her the name of “Kluffy” – an ingenious mix of ‘klutz’ and ‘Buffy’. Cheerleaders were so original.
After that incident, she had become a pronounced nerd who’s only friend was her brand new TI-83 calculator, silver edition to boot. And of course,… once a nerd, always a nerd. Throughout junior high and into high school. Well that is, until the summer before junior year.
Which brought her back to standing in front of her full-length mirror, staring back at the class loser in the reflection.
While most normal teenagers would have kicked and screamed at the notion of moving halfway through high school, Buffy welcomed it with open arms. The way she saw it – new school, new image, no more loser-Buffy. Sounds like a plan to me, she thought with a small smile, carefully fingering her messy locks of brown hair and thick, wire-rimmed glasses.
New school, new image, new Buffy.
Sunnydale High School, beware.
Buffy stared at the racks of clothing in front of her at Armani Exchange and immediately felt completely lost. With her mother’s credit card safely tucked into the wallet that she was clutching with a sweaty hand, she was reminded, again, that this was the first time she had ever gone shopping. Alone. Her mother was nowhere to be found – most likely mesmerized by a wok over in The KitchenWare at the other end of the mall.
“Excuse me, miss,” an sales assistant approached her with a huge smile, “can I help you?”
Turning, Buffy gulped and nodded her head. Oh boy.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Spike Pratt’s voice was laced with disbelief. He heard a sigh over the telephone line and knew his girlfriend – ex-girlfriend as of a second or so ago – was twirling the cord in her finger and probably rolling her eyes around.
“Yes, William,” she said, sounding a little exasperated, “I’m breaking up with you.”
“Okay…” he drawled out, trying to prolong the conversation, “what exactly brought about this change of heart?”
“Nothing much,” she shrugged, holding the cordless phone between her ear and shoulder as she filed a nail, “Got bored of you, mainly.”
“Bored of me!” Spike roared, leaping up to his feet. Drusilla winced, and pulled the phone away from her ear. “It’s been one bloody month and you’re bored of me?! Do you even know who you’re talking to, Dru?”
Drusilla held her breath and counted to five, listening for the inevitable ’My name is Spike Pratt! My da owns this and that and I’m the blah blah of the soccer team and all these girls would blah blah blah blah’… she had heard it once too many times already.
“I’m Spike,” he emphasized his name, “Do you know how many girls would be dying to be in your shoes right now, you stupid cow? I ownthe football team, my da owns all the – “
The line went dead.
“- companies… Dru?” he asked into the phone then brought it away from his ear to frown at it. “Drusilla? Dru! DRU!?”
Frustrated, he slammed the phone down in its cradle. Fucking bitch, he glared at it before storming out of his room.
Sod it all. I’ll show her.
“Well… do you love her?” Angel asked, panting a little bit as he moved to the right to hit the ball with his tennis racket.
“Course I do,” Spike grunted as the ball made contact with his own racket and flew back across the net. “Best bloody shag ever, mate.”
Angel backhanded it and sighed. “That’s not what I meant – “
“And her mouth,” his friend continued, not faltering a beat, “wow… that’s the only word. The things she would do – “
The sun was high in the hot afternoon and both boys were sweating from playing tennis for over an hour or so.
“Who does she think she is?” Spike complained as Angel served. The ball came flying to his side neatly, and he swung his racket, not really paying attention. “She can’t just leave me because she’s bored.”
“Actually,… yeah, she can,” Angel informed him. Spike glared. “Is it that hard to believe someone would break up with you, Spike?”
“Uh – “ Spike pretended to think, rolling his eyes up to the top of his head and forgetting to hit the ball that came his way. “Yeah.”
“Has anyone ever thrown the words ‘egotistical bastard’ to you?” Angel asked, sighing and tossing his racket to the side of the court and walking over to his bag to get a bottle of water. Spike shrugged.
“Once or twice…” he counted, nonchalantly, then added, “Though, it mostly came from women, Peaches.”
“Don’t call me that,” Angel growled, annoyed.
“Don’t rightly care, though,” he continued, ignoring his friend, “Egotistical is as egotistical does. I can have anyone in the bloody school and Dru knows that.”
Angel raised an eyebrow and threw a cold water bottle to his friend.
A/N: kay, there’s a start… tell me how you guys like it. so far, at least.