by Dan Spector

From the Mental Journal of Cordelia Chase:

(Yeah, like I'd write this stuff down where any lame-oh could find it! As if!)


I was really hoping I could get through just one morning without seeing her. Spend my free time showing around the new girl (Buffy Summers, petite, not totally clueless, needs to learn how to color her hair properly). But no, SHE just has to be there by the water fountain,

I swear, every time I see her, it makes me want to let out one of those "Primal Screams" that last therapist was always yammering about. Just go:


or something like that. But there is absolutely no way I am ever going to do that! Cordelia Chase does not howl like some cheap car alarm. I'll just do it in my head. Every time I see her.


Willow Danielle Rosenberg. Library nerd. Computer Geek. Bottom of the social ladder. Bane of my existence for years and years. Especially the last three.


How did this all start, anyway? We would always pick on her and it would be like some sort of contest, show how cool you are by how much you can kick the little pincushion. And, none of that modesty crap, I was the best and therefore the coolest. And then IT happened.


One day in History we're sitting there while Miss Herkimer is going on (and on and on) about the Black Death, which basically got rid of all the losers in Europe and made it a lot easier for the Renaissance and all that stuff, and I'm so bored I've actually read all the seriously antique graffiti carved into my desk, and Willow is lapping it up and I'm looking at her and thinking what a total freak she is...

And then I'm looking at her and thinking that she really is pretty in her freaky sort of way and she's so smart and she must be tough because she takes all this crap from all of us and she hasn't like stuck her head in the oven, with her arms wrapped around a copy of "The Bell Jar" and she can't dress at all but it still somehow looks good on her and she's sooooo pretty and she has that look about her that makes you just want to curl up next to her in front of a fire and just stroke her hair or something and then I realize that I've suddenly developed--or, worse, suddenly acknowledged--the biggest stupid psycho crush and it's on a GIRL (yuck!) and the school freak on top of that!! Nauseous much?


How ridiculous is this? The Head Cheerleader and the Cyber-clod! The Most Popular Girl in School and the Least Popular! God, irony is so for losers!


I mean it's not like I'm a total Lesbo! No, no, just enough to ruin my life. I don't go all gushy for Harm, or the other cheerleaders. Even new girl here, Buffy, okay, cute, but she can't make me feel like Willow does. No one does that.

How sweet. I'm a one-girl girl. And genius me, I've picked the one girl who absolutely hates me. I mean she has a club and everything (Geek!), dedicated to hating me! With a charter and membership cards (Geek! SuperGeek!) and everything. Her and that uberLoser, Xander Harris, and his dweeb friend, Jesse Whoever.


(Although she did do a good job of laminating the membership cards. And the holograms were a nice touch.)