Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own randomness and attempt at creating a Spashley happy ending. All the characters of SoN belong to Tom Lynch and The-N. Any reference to any person, place, or thing is purely for entertainment purposes.

A/N: Wow, it's an honor to be back presenting a new story, also my third novel-ish fic for SoN. A big, big, big! thank you to all of the awesome people who have read this story, added it and/or me as their favorite, and most of all, to those who have taken the time to review. I wasn't planning on posting as soon as I am, but honestly, it feels way longer haha. Anyway, enough rambling. I now leave you with the prologue/first chapter of Realize What I Just Realized.

P.S. This is all in Ashley's PoV, though I'm sure you would have figured that out quickly.


-Prologue-

I hate Spencer Carlin!

Okay, so hate may be a little harsh. I think it's a strong...dislike mixed with a hint of something that I'm not quite able to put my finger on.

She is beautiful, in every sense of the word and, really, it isn't fair.

Spencer has perfect blonde hair that never seems to have any hair out of place. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of blue, her face flawless.

Her clothes, though modest in comparison to most the girls at school, fit nicely on her small frame. And that, I think, makes me dislike her even more. Pretty, modest people have no place here. Not to mention that she is incredibly smart, almost in that in-your-face kind of way.

She's the type of girl who managed to get every good gene possible. I'll even go as far to say that she can sing and dance, though I've never seen any proof. Still, it wouldn't surprise me.

So why do I hate Spencer Carlin?

Some would say I'm jealous because of all the things I mentioned, but I'm not. I'm just very observant and a little annoyed that her gene pool is so stacked, when some people (who most definitely are not me) get the short end of the stick.

No, you know the real reason I can't stand Spencer Carlin?

It's because she makes it so I can't hate her, no matter how much I'd like to. And until much later, I wouldn't know why that was.


Chapter 1

Cheerleaders. The one thing I hate more than Spencer Carlin.

I don't see how they claim to bring pep to the school when all they bring me is unwarranted misery.

Ok, so maybe it's not completely unwarranted. Maybe every once in a while I might let one little smart ass comment slip, but they totally deserve it.

It almost makes me gag when I think about how I used to be one. You know, before I discovered my brain.

And I'll never understand how their inch long skirts qualify as dress code appropriate, though I'm sure that has to do with the majority vote from the male staff members.

So now here I sit, bored to death in whatever class I have at eight. I don't know the name of it, just which room it is. I think the Dean had a good laugh when he put me in a class with 80% of the cheerleaders, one Spencer Carlin included. Definitely a fun first day discovering that.

"Mrs. Baker," a sickly sweet voice interrupts the quiet classroom, "we have to leave early for the pep rally."

I can practically hear everyone roll their eyes. Madison Duarte is such a suck up bitch, we all know it. Hell, she even knows it, and couldn't care less.

"We being the cheerleaders," Madison explains unnecessarily, looking around the class as if she expects some one else to claim the same thing.

I roll my eyes again. "Aw, really?" I cry out, my sarcasm heavy, "why not the rest of us?"

"Ms. Dav-"

"Because some of us deserve special treatment," Madison spits back, all false cheerfulness gone.

"I hardly think pity counts as special treatment," I retort." Despite both of us being irritated, I know we both get some perverse pleasure from our bitch fests.

"Is that what keeps your mom from leaving? Or is it the trust fund?" And with that Madison hurdles right over the line, sending me a triumphant smile. Mrs. Baker has given up any hopes of calming us down, and is just as entranced as the rest of the class.

"No, I believe that would be your dad screwing her that keeps her here. But what do I know?" I give a shrug. "Maybe that's why she stays home now. It would definitely make me want to stay in."

"That's quite enough, Ms. Davies!" Mrs. Baker's voice suddenly comes in with confidence.

"It's not her fault, Mrs. Baker," Madison jumps in, her voice sweet again. I raise my eyebrows at her. "She just can't keep her mouth closed, at least from what everyone has said." Ah, that's the Madison I know..

Mrs. Baker shakes her head disapprovingly. "Just go to the pep rally, Madison." I notice that her voice doesn't hold any of the frustration that it did when she was addressing me. Makes me sick.

Madison nods respectfully and gathers her things, making sure to be as loud and disruptive as possible. "Like mother like daughter," she whispers to me, ugly face contorted into smugness. She's not really ugly, but it's much more fun to pretend that she is.

The Latina trips over my foot that was 'accidentally' right in her path. "Oops, mi malo Maddie. You better be more careful, wouldn't want you hurt for the pep rally." I offer her a sweet smile.

Giving me a death glare and a dramatic sigh, Madison beckons the other cheerleaders and leaves class. "Adios Maddie!"

I never knew I'd be so thankful for taking Spanish. Not that I am in any way fluent, but that makes it even more fun because Madison likes to pretend that English is her second language, so I never hesitate to use my limited Spanish to piss her off.

She quickly turns around and sends me my most hateful glare to-date before stomping out of the classroom. My smile slowly fades and I slouch back in my chair, disappointed that my entertainment is now gone.

"Ms. Carlin?" I look up as I hear the familiar name. I look around in interest, eyes landing on Spencer. "Shouldn't you be gone as well?"

Spencer bites her lip shyly, almost looking embarrassed. I'd find it funny if I actually believed the innocent act. I mean she walks around in a mini-skirt...how innocent can she be?

"Well I," she coughs to clear her throat, seeming nervous. "I wanted to get the notes."

I'm sure I'm staring at her incredulously. Who voluntarily chooses to miss a pep rally? Not that I like them, but when the alternative is class, it's an easy choice.

"Go ahead, Ms. Carlin," Mrs. Baker assures her sweetly. "You can get the notes from-" she stops to look around the classroom.

I immediately lose interest and go back to doodling on my notebook, intent on finishing my caricature of the nerdy kid who sits beside me.

"Ms. Davies."

My head snaps up. "What?" I see Spencer giving me an unsure look and I quickly put it together. You have to be shitting me. Does she not see me spend every class crumpling up paper to hurl at Madison?

"You will give Spencer her notes." What ever happened to democracy?

"What!" I repeat, this time in outrage. "That's…" I cut myself off. I somehow doubt that the word 'bull shit' is classroom appropriate. "…not fair," I mutter quietly.

"You will give Ms. Carlin your notes." Mrs. Baker's tone is final, and with an accusing glare sent to Spencer, I mumble "sure," and cross my arms.

"Thanks," Spencer says quietly, but surprisingly sincerely. She offers me a thankful smile and gathers her stuff, my eyes glaring hard at her back.

As I turn back to my drawing, I can't help but feel angry and wish for Mrs. Baker's stupid Special K cereal to turn soggy in her stupid soy milk.

"What's got you so cheerful?" Aiden asks as he walks over to join me at our table. He obviously notices my less-than-thrilled face.

"Why the cheerleaders of course." I give a big enthusiastic smile which immediately turns to a frown. "Why are they such bitches? Is it like a requirement?"

Aiden laughs. "I think so. I mean you were one after-all."

I punch him to let him know I don't appreciate the association. "Whatever, ass. Playing with balls this afternoon?"

He shakes his head in amusement. "If by that you mean, 'do I have basketball practice?' then yes." His eyes widen. "Whoa," he whispers.

I turn my head to where he is looking and I can't help but echo the same thought in my brain. Spencer Carlin is making her way over, looking even more nervous at the 'what the fuck' looks I'm sure Aiden and I are giving her.

"Hey Spencer," Aiden says smoothly, making sure to shake his head so that his hair flicks into place. I roll my eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She gives him a small smile. "Hey Aiden." She then directs her attention to me. "I was uh, wondering if I could get the notes."

I can't help but notice her nervousness and wonder about it. I'm not a total outcast, but I'm a far cry from the cheerleading social circle. "You sure don't waste any time."

Spencer looks sheepish and gives a short, nervous laugh. "Yeah, sorry, I just figured this was the best time to catch up with you. I have practice after school, so I couldn't get them then." It makes me inwardly laugh that she feels the need to explain. I think it has to do with her nervousness.

"You know, the test isn't for like a month." I'm not sure why I'm being so difficult. Her shyness almost makes me want to take pity on her. Almost.

"Ash would be glad to give you the notes," Aiden cuts in, obviously tired of being ignored while Spencer and I interact.

"Ash," I say meanly, "can speak for herself, thank you." I dig into my bag, searching for the notes.

"Spencer, what is this?"

Spencer jumps back quickly, looking guilty. "Hey Madison. I'm just getting my notes from Ashley."

Madison looks between us, as if trying to decide if that's all that is going on. I'm not sure what else could be ascertained from me holding out a stack of papers for Spencer. "Why?" she asks meanly, as if there isn't anything worse than conversing with me.

"Obviously if she needed you here, Maddie, she would have tugged on your leash."

I catch Aiden's smile out of the corner of my eye. Being a bitch is always more fun with an audience.

Madison ignores my remark and focuses on Aiden, which is understandable. He's a good looking guy; tall, dark, and handsome, and even though I cringe when I describe my best friend like that, I see no point in shorting him, at least in the privacy of my thoughts.

"Hey Aiden," she says in a sultry voice, one I assume is supposed to be flirty.

"Madison." He smiles brightly. He's an attention whore, and having Spencer and Madison focusing on him has probably just made his week. "What brings you over here?"

"I came over to rescue Spencer," she says like it's obvious.

She obviously doesn't know that we're the ones needing to be rescued.

"Oh," Spencer speaks up suddenly, still in that stupid, shy voice. "I'm okay. I'm just getting the notes."

I hold up the notes and put them in Madison's face. "It's paper that you write information on," I explain slowly. "Nn-oats," I pronounce clearly, enjoying the scowl that makes its way across her normally smug face.

"I know what notes are," she exclaims haughtily, snatching the notes from me and handing them to Spencer. "Ugh, let's go Spencer. We have to go disinfect ourselves." She turns to Aiden and gives him a bright smile. "I'll see you at the game." She pulls Spencer away.

"Bye Madison. Spencer." He gives them a big wave, smiling like a dumb ass.

The blonde stops suddenly and turns to me, ignoring Madison's bitchy look of confusion. "I uh…" She looks at the ground before meeting my gaze, a small smile on her face. "Thanks for the notes."

I surprise myself when I give a small smile in response and nod.

"Spencer," Madison says in a harsher tone, grabbing her wrist again and pulling her away.

"Wow," Aiden sighs as he leans back against the table.

I look at him curiously. "What?"

"Madison has-" he begins, but I cut him off quickly.

"Ew," I say in disgust, "don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm fully aware of what she has. It's called an STD."

He laughs. "I was going to say that Madison has nothing on Spencer Carlin."

I look at him incredulously. "Seriously? Shy Mary? Not that I like Madison, at all, but really? I mean Spencer is like...like…" I fumble around thinking of a good way to describe the girl. "She's like this little angelic cheerleader, you know, if there existed such a thing."

Aiden laughs again. "You think I'm joking," I continue. "She's just too…perfect! Yeah, that's it, perfect! Her hair always looks nice, she dresses cute but not slutty, she's nice to people, she makes good grades," I tick off my list. "And she's pretty, too. Like what in the fuck?"

I see Aiden roll his eyes at me. "Wow Ash, after that description, how could I not hate her? You made her sound just plain awful," he says in a voice full of sarcasm. "And what do you have against her? She's never done anything to you."

"Exactly! She's nice to me, so how in the hell is she a cheerleader? And who can be nice all the time. Fuck, even Mary Poppins could get a little pissy." I'm standing up before I even realize it. That's how crazy Spencer Carlin can make me.

"Okay," Aiden says between laughs. "I guess I'll return the ring I bought for her."

I can't help but laugh, realizing that I might have been a little crazy with my rant. "Shut up, ass. Like she'd even go for you."

"I dunno," he shrugs, a teasing glint in his eyes, "she seemed more nervous by you."

I roll my eyes and slap him. "Ugh, whatever. I can't help it she's weird."

"Not weird," he counters, "quiet." He leans closer to me and whispers loudly, "and you know what they say about the quiet ones…"

I once again roll my eyes at my loser friend. "You could learn something from this whole 'quiet' thing." I level him with a significant look.

"But then who'd bitch back at you?" he pouts. I swear he's such a girl sometimes.

"Touché," I smile. "Though Madison seems to do a good job. Hell, Madison seems to be able to meet everyone's needs."

"She's not so bad."

I scoff. "What, in bed? Ugh, so do not want to be thinking about that!" I close my eyes firmly and shake the image free.

Aiden puts his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying, she's nice."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "And by nice, you mean you'd do her."

He shrugs and smiles at me. "I'm not ruling it out. But like I said, she's got nothing on Spencer. Madison would be a good quick lay, but Spencer…she'd be good for a while."

"Ew, ew, ew!" I protest loudly. "Never ever use Spencer and lay in the same sentence. Besides the fact that that's wishful thinking on your part, that's just plain gross."

Ugh. Seriously, Spencer Carlin is just…something!

Aiden laughs and shakes his head at me. "You act like she's hideous or something."

"She's not," I admit quietly. "I mean she's obviously pretty, but still-" I cut myself, not sure where I was going with that thought. Really it doesn't matter because I do not want to think of Spencer Carlin having sex at all, let alone with anyone I know. I'd never wish that on anyone.

"Yeah right Ash," he laughs in disbelief. He picks up my book bag and hands it to me before shouldering his own.

I frown at his tone. "What?"

"Methinks you doth protest too much." Aiden starts heading towards the gym for basketball. Don't ask me why they scheduled basketball practice right after lunch. I'm just glad I'm not in the gym to see the athletes' lunch come back up.

I raise my eyebrows at his lame choice of words. "Methinks you are a dumb-ass." Seriously, who says shit like that, you know, besides Shakespeare or whoever.

Aiden turns around and gives me one big shit-eating grin before walking inside. "You know..." He turns to me with a smug smile. "You didn't say no." He quickly shuts the door.

"Ugh, you are such a douche!" I yell out to him, just knowing he's still wearing that stupid ass grin.

I walk to my car, totally forgoing the rest of school. I only have one more class, and I see no point in staying for Art. I can draw just fine on my own, thank you. I mean just look at the picture I drew of the nerd in my class. Totally museum worthy.

My phone vibrates with a message, and I'm a little cautious when I see Aiden has sent me some kind of multimedia that I have to download.

When the download completes, I can't help but roll my eyes in irritation.

The little fucker sent me a picture.

Of Spencer Carlin in her cheerleading outfit.

What an ass.