Disclaimer: No suing, please. I don't own. I also don't have anything against cheerleaders. Song used: Giant by Matthew Good Band. I suggest listening to it as you read this. It helps with the mood.

A/N: Darcy has become my favourite character of Season Four – she doesn't have much of a personality so far, but she's just so easy to like. I made her a little out of character, though, but I hope that's okay. Nate, another unimportant character, gets a little cameo in this, too. This takes place after Season Four. Reviews are loved and cookies are given.

"Shake me, I'm waiting

When the bad moon in your heart sings

And your wind up gears start grinding
Your teeth feel you smiling
A better, happier you
The better happier you..." – Matthew Good Band

Fallout

Trapped. I am in a sugar-coated lollipop of blue and yellow, my ears ringing with the sound of hundreds of voices cheering madly out in the gym, as if our little pep rally is the most exciting thing in the world. I know different now. I was there, once – in that haze of mindless spirit.

My hands are sweating and itching and, right now, all I want is to escape onto the roof of the school and smoke, inhaling the pungent scent of the nicotine clouds and listening to the air. Forgetting about this.

I sound insane. I might be insane. How does one tell?

"Okay, hons, are you ready?" Paige claps her hands excitedly and smiles as widely as she can. The squad is nodding enthusiastically, buying into her charm. I'm not fooled – I can see the smudgy mascara around her eyes and the absence of life in her smile. I know what happened with Mr. Oleander – Matt, since he's no longer teaching – that left her damaged and bleeding. I saw it all.

Why did I even come back? I didn't have to – I wasn't captain – I could have stayed on the roof, ignoring everything and trying to figure out the meaning of life. I didn't have to come back this year.

Mom wanted me to, though. She wants everything to stay the same. The therapist says that she's in denial, but I think it's a little bit more. She stays in her room all day, curtains drawn, watching shadows slither up the wall and telling herself that Dad's on an extended business trip. He's not. He ran away with the twenty-three year old receptionist of the dental office where he used to work, probably having the time of his life with a young, cute blonde and no attachments. He sends us money every month.

So I'm here, because me being a cheerleader makes Mom smile a bit, because she's glad that some things will never change.

"Hey, Darcy, ready to go?" Manny smiles, glad to put the slut behind her and being full-out cheerleader and clutches my elbow, shaking me out of the daze I was in. I'm glad she did, too, or else I'd be standing there, staring into the space like some crazy person.

So I'm normal now. "Yeah, definitely – a bit nervous, though," I give her a fluttery smile, trying to look like the ditz that everyone thinks I am. "I mean, I don't want to, like, screw the pyramid thing up or anything. That would suck."

She laughs, glad that I'm still Darcy – a little insecure but vibrant – and gives me a quick hug. "No kidding. But smile a little, at least? You'll be fine! Now come on."

I take a quick intake of breath, wondering how long I'll last before I give it up and do what I want to do. My fingers run absentmindedly along my arm, bumping over the thin line of scar tissue near the crook of my elbow. Then I blink, and I'm out of the reverie for good.

And with a swish of our pleated skirts, we're off, into the bright fluorescent light.

The first thing I notice is that there's a disturbingly large amount of people. I can't make out their faces – all I see are blurs of flesh-coloured skin and bright clothing, all of them waving their arms madly and making loud noises, because that, apparently, is how excitement is shown.

"K-I-C-K-A-S-S – THAT'S THE WAY WE SPELL SUCCESS.

Shake me, I'm waiting

Everybody sees a giant."

Here I am, lost in the sea of pom-poms and Colgate ad teeth and shining eyes. My arms are pumping wildly, my kicks sharp. I've always been good at this. I've always been bad at dealing my cards – I'm left with a half-dead mother, friends who are there because they're there and an addiction to cigarettes. And a cheerleading gig that leaves me nauseous, the sour aftertaste of the sickening sweet crowding around in the inside of my mouth.

And then, it's the pyramid sequence. I'm the lightest, which means that I get to be at the top. I can feel Heather Sinclair looking at me with beady eyes, because I took her place after she gained some weight from post-surgery depression.

As I clamber over the triangle of people who are supposed to be my friends, I can see everything. I can see everybody's faces and their secrets. Paige – not smiling anymore, because the attention's on me and no one will notice that she's still bleeding from her and I catching Matt in the middle of having sex with some random black haired girl. Heather Sinclair – being as hateful as plastic genocide victims can be. And Manny – having the time of her life.

I'm at the top, a proud grin hitched on my face, my arms raised in a pale, freckled V. It's a somewhat happy feeling, to be on top, to have such a view of our shiny gymnasium with lights in my eyes. And suddenly, it's bitter, because every happy feeling I encounter has to be ripped away from me.

And then, the world stops. Because I can feel a presence somewhere in the bleachers, contrasting against the happy people enjoying the freak-show.

I can't even remember his name at first. We played in Dracula together before I was fired. He was the vampire and Emma Nelson almost gave him an STD. He's no one important, but I can feel his eyes on me and suddenly, I feel naked, because, as clichéd as it sounds, it seems as though he can read into the chemical juices of my brain and what goes on in my gut and my heart. And I'm still standing on Hazel and Manny's shoulders; looking like the peppy girl my mom wants me to be.

I'm burdened with the miserable smell of stupidity, because I'm not supposed to be like this – falling into the stars of the boy who was Dracula and being weak. Being the person I'm trying not to be, being the person that everyone sees.

So maybe I'm not so special after all.

But then his name comes back to me. Nate. And it feels special to remember.

And it's here on the apex of the pyramid, surrounded by a wave of cheering spectators with him on my mind and me in his eyes, when I start crying.

Because I'm not that strong. So I might as well show it, right? There are tears streaming down my cheeks, just like Paige, only everyone's looking at me and looking shocked.

It's dead silent. At first, I thought I had gone deaf, but a small cough from somebody brings me back to reality. I'm single-handedly ruining the fun for everyone, because I'm letting my emotions out for once.

Hazel, who's directly under me, can't see me crying. So she hisses, "What the hell are you doing? Did you forget the cheer? It's –"

I know it, but I won't say it. I tilt up my chin, with watermarks all over my face and an imprint of self-inflicted pain etched onto my arm and a broken grin, I think, "AND THAT CONCLUDES TEN MINUTES OF SUGARLAND. GO AND FUCK YOURSELVES, WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE ANYWAY," but actually say, "Goooooooooo...Degrassi!" because Paige thought it was really witty when she made it up.

The smile on my lips die out. I feel my feet leaving Hazel and Manny's shoulders.

I fall.

"When you blow out like a dead star
It reminds me how uniform your beautiful is
We carry on like it's easy
Like you're all out
And I'm your man
Baby, I'm your man."

"Oh, my God."

"She wasn't even hurt. That's so weird."

"Well, good for her, but I think Heather's got a broken arm."

"No, it was a hip. And wow, it's all her fault. What a colossal bitch."

The whispers are following me. It has been a week and no one's letting me forget that I'm a pep murderer.

According to Chanté and Manny, after I fell, Paige dove out of the pyramid to catch me, which equaled to the entire Spirit Squad being thrown off-balance and bruised, except for Heather Sinclair, who broke her hip.

I leave the Guidance office, not quite comprehending why I have to visit Ms. Sauve every other day. And I'm not sure if I mind it that much – it's nice to have someone to talk to other than the mush in your brain.

And after four years of running, the Spirit Squad has been thrown off its high horse, left broken and battered. I did it all when I decided it wasn't worth smiling for. I did it all when I fell.

"She killed the show."

"I can't believe her."

Ms. Hatzilakos told me that she wouldn't mind if I skip a few days if I continue to see Ms. Sauve in alternate mornings. Apparently, I'm traumatized by the loss of my dad. Like he died or something. Like he hadn't left us a note in Dentist Stationary, telling us that Carla was pregnant and he had to leave with her.

So now, it seems that my mother isn't the messed up one in the family. I am.

I don't feel like staying. I dig my fingers around in my purse, grabbing the smooth, cool lighter and heading towards the roof.

It's cold – summer has given up at last and I'm shivering slightly, bumps rising up on my arm and making it harder to distinguish the scar on my arm by touch. I'm sitting here, with my legs bunched up to my chest and sending smoke signals to anyone who can see the grey wisps before they camouflage with the morning air. So I'll just think for a bit before he shows up, as he has been doing since the fallout.

Pretty much most of the school hates me. Manny's still a bit mad, because the Spirit Squad has been cancelled for the year. Ms. Hatzilakos thinks it's unsafe. And Paige hates me, because the squad was her baby and she lost it when it went down the drain to reality. Because, now, everyone can see the scabs in her eyes.

And of course, Heather Sinclair has to get more plastic surgery when the splints come off, because I've deformed her in an ungodly way. So she hates me more than ever.

But Emma's proud of me for breaking free of the cheerleaders and Ellie and Alex seem to love me.

"You been here long?"

I look up to see him there, hands in pockets and an unlit cigarette poised in his mouth.

"No. But long enough for me to learn how to get smoke rings out of my nose," I tell him.

He sits down next to me, his legs dangling off the edge of the school. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and kisses me quickly, his hair intertwining with mine by the means of the wind. I hand him my lighter, and then we're flying into the vortex of killing ourselves slowly and softly with our own smoke. We've destroyed the pretty blues and yellows of the Spirit Squad, so maybe destroying ourselves is like a debt to karma. That's what he says..

He grazes his fingertips against my arm, tracing the line from the time I went crazy and bled all over the furniture so Mom would notice.

And now I'm alive.

The End