FIC Not even Jimmy Olsen (1/6) (BUFFY)

[blairprovence]

I thought I would try giving posting my old stuff a go as I figure out LiveJournal. This is one of my first gen Buffy fics.

Not Even Jimmy Olsen

by Blair Provence
Originally Written: Spring, 1999

Summary: During the spring of senior year, a Cordette finds out more than she bargained for about her friend Cordelia and the weirdness of Sunnydale High.

Author Notes: This story is an anti-Mary Sue - a reactions to all of those

original characters who are stronger than Buffy, smarter than Giles, witchier than Willow and quippier than Xander.

Story Notes: Third season, taking place sometime after The Wish but before The Prom.

 

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but would like to put Giles on layaway, please. 

It began as just another boring night at the Bronze.

 

I was sitting in my usual spot at the club's best table, between Aphrodisia and Aura, a scowling Harmony and a bored Cordelia across from us, scoping out the male action on the dance floor. Dingoes Ate My Baby played - badly - from up on the dais, and Annie Vega and her psycho boyfriend were putting on their usual show down in front. Larry and his football cohorts were harassing Jonathon over by the pool table, and Michelle Blake was making out with her squeeze du jour on the couch in the corner. In other words, it was just your typical Tuesday/Thursday/Friday/Saturday/Sunday at the Bronze.

 

This town really needs to get a few new elsewheres to be.

 

Same old, same old, I thought, sighing, and for the first time I began to feel nostalgic for the bad old days of tagging along behind my father and enrolling in a new school every six months or so. New student terror aside, at least the variety was interesting.

 

It was ironic, really, because when I had first come to Sunnydale at the beginning of my junior year, I was massively psyched at the idea of finishing out my high school career in one place, even if it necessitated living with my Aunt Phoebe, her lingering hippie lifestyle and Hell's Angel boyfriend notwithstanding. I was eager to test out the knowledge I had gathered during my itinerant years, confident that through sheer repetition I had honed the high school experience down to an exact science. I had come to a decision - for the first time, I was determined to be one of those girls - the ones with the right clothes, the right hair, the right friends, and the right guys.

 

Thus my traveling salesman father became a jetsetting businessman, my new home's purported location became my aunt's boss' mansion in a better part of town, and my true personality became my own little secret, subsumed beneath a much bitchier, better coiffed, stylishly dressed snob.

 

I confess to feeling a bit of surprise that it actually worked.

 

Admittedly, I did have a little luck on my side. Purely by chance, I ended up sitting next to Aura in my first period class and she really dug my new Italian shoes. Ms. Suarez the Spanish teacher was both ten minutes late and incredibly dull, so we had plenty of time to swap names, stories and favorite places to shop. We discovered that we had three classes in common, and Aphrodisia was in two of them. Aura also informed me that I apparently shared three courses with Harmony and two with Cordelia, whom she identified as the reigning queens of the school when she introduced them to me after class. Suffice it to say, by lunchtime I was in like Flynn. And it felt great.

 

Anyone who's ever gone to high school knows how easy it is to spot your basic cliques of students, so it was no real trick to pick out the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Cordelia and her Cordettes stalked the halls like they owned them, and the rest of the student body nearly always scrambled to make way. The jocks were clearly identifiable, as were the brains, the geeks, and the nerds (who aren't necessarily the same people, though the criterion are similar). Druggies are distinguishable from the theatre crowd, and exist in an entirely separate reality from the cheerleaders. Other groups are a bit more malleable, but the basic high school categories are generally consistent from school to school. And Sunnydale High appeared to be no exception.

 

It took me a while to realize that wasn't entirely correct.

 

I was quite proud of my quasi-scientific assessment and really psyched that my plan of action had apparently paid off. I judged that all I would really need to do for a successful next two years was lie my head off and act cruelly toward the less fortunate - something I was entirely prepared to do. High school success, here I came.

 

Fast-forward.

 

A year and a half later, the novelty of my lofty position had worn off. I was entirely aware that my 'friends' were actually little more than mere acquaintances - they knew next to nothing about me, and would have been appalled at any truths they might have inadvertently come to learn. It had been disturbingly easy to keep them ignorant of my true home and family, since they apparently had no interest in knowing about them at all. It was almost galling how superficial they were willing to keep our relationships, but, then again, I knew almost as little about their lives as they did mine. And, to be honest, I had to admit I didn't much care to learn more. By that point I was just biding my time until college began, which I had designated as the moment when I planned to resume my 'real' life, sans the stupid lies.

 

But in the meantime, it had to be noted that you can only go so shallow before your brain cries out for more meaty stimulation, which is why I was suffering from near fatal boredom at the Bronze that night. Even Cordelia's presence had done little to liven up the evening the way it usually did when she and Harmony went at it. Not that Harmony wasn't humming along in total bitch mode - in fact, if she has any other mode, it's not readily apparent. But Cordelia just looked down her nose at the blonde whenever she made her cutting comments - not even mentioning Xander Harris managed to get a rise out of the tall brunette. She simply rolled her eyes and sipped her cappucino, staring out across the floor with an expression of total boredom.

 

It was a bit surprising, really. The one thing that had been consistent about Cordelia since her recovery from her nearfatal fall had been the rage the mere mention of Xander's name always elicited. Well, to be clear, that hadn't been the case right away - the first few days after her return to school, Cordelia had crept through the halls looking tired and haunted, and Harmony, sensing weakness, had moved in for the kill. It had been fascinating to watch, the way those wildlife documentaries about hyenas and lions on the African plains are fascinating - you just can't help but look for the flow of blood and guts. Cordelia had been queen reigning bitch of Sunnydale since she was in diapers, or so I'm told, and she'd given it all up to date the class goof, and then she'd been dumped by him. Apparently. I still wasn't sure we'd gotten the whole story on that one. But the sheer novelty of the situation had made it a riveting drama, and, like the aftermath of a car wreck, the fallout was equally interesting.

 

But once she had recovered from whatever it was that happened, Cordelia had quickly regained her equilibrium and had managed, with little visible effort, to regain her position in the Sunnydale High social hierarchy. As far as I could tell, she accomplished this by somehow managing to project an attitude of blase disinterest that even Harmony's best insults could not shake - and, let's face it, there's nothing more likely to make you popular than the appearance of not caring in the least whether or not you are. She left behind her new friends with nary a backward glance, except to toss a few insults over her shoulder at her ex. They had accepted her defection with the same surprising sangfroid with which they had greeted her initial entry into their group, and appeared oblivious to her renewed ridicule - well, except for Xander, but he was getting better at hiding his feelings about it. It was a decidedly abnormal reaction, but then, they're an abnormal little group.

 

Which is why it makes complete sense that it was actually Buffy Summers who first clued me in to the fact that Sunnydale High wasn't quite the average high school that I'd assumed. She's something of an anomaly on campus, not really fitting into any easily defined categories - and those to which she could lay a claim to membership would not encompass her closest friends. On the face of it, she would seem to be an ideal candidate for the prom queen/cheerleader category. Great hair, cool clothes, beautiful face...she possesses all the superficial requirements in abundance. In fact, Aphrodisia told me last year that Cordelia had glommed onto Buffy almost immediately on her first day of school, but that the friendliness hadn't lasted long, because other elements of Buffy's personality soon made themselves known.

 

In other words, she'd attacked Cordelia at the Bronze with a stick.

 

Definitely weird.

Part 2