You Belong With Me

It's May. I still have more than a week of reading period and finals, so I am not going to officially resume blogging yet. I will, however, reward your patience with this one-shot I happened to post on Fictionpress earlier this week as my own sort of study break reward.

Author's Note: Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Taylor Swift's songs as much as the next person, but I can't help but wonder how the cheerleader would respond if she heard that song.
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Bow down to the Queen, bitchessss!

In this lawless land of high school melodrama and bickering cliques, there's a law of natural order in this place. Let us review:

One: Alpha Male and Alpha Female are together. Either that, or they've already been together before but they've broken up (perhaps multiple times, each with more weeping and screaming than the one before) but nobody dares to date one without suffering the wrath of the other, so hence they are still together in a de facto relationship.

Two: Anyone who dares disturb the natural order of things will suffer the consequences.

Bow down to the pinnacle of human evolution. Yeah, that's right.

As far as Tay is concerned, she may as well write her own requiem a la Mozart in Amadeus and send it off to the 102.7 KIIS radio station for their next songwriting contest as a follow-up to that song of hers that made her the local star. I can already hear the radio jockey on the airwaves garbling the brilliant title: "You Belong with Me, Pt II: Only in Chick Flicks, Chick Lit, and Other Emotional Porn for Chicks." It'll just as big of a hit as that wretched song she wrote that won her that radio station contest last month and marked a big spanking target on my back. Even the class idiot could tell who that song was written about. After all, there's only one boyfriend to the one cheer captain at this school, and that's yours truly.

Yeah, and I'm sorry you were born with that face.

Before you start stroking my ego with reassuring compliments about my beauty, my brains, and my sheer awesomeness, thanks honey, but don't waste your breath on things I already know. There is no girl better than me in this pond, so why should I feel threatened by a little fly who's been buzzing around my ear about why my boyfriend belongs with her? I don't feel threatened. I feel annoyed.

Honey, you really think you'll get my man looking like that? Please sit down.

And so, in honor of all the misaligned cheer captains in the nation who are sick of being stereotyped as either brainless bimbos or manipulative harlots, I will now do a close reading of the offending song, not only to demonstrate my intellectual prowess to you all, but to also expose the stinking parade of non sequitur bull that seems to have drawn everyone in like flies to poop.

"You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset. She's going off about something that you said 'cause she doesn't get your humor like I do. I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night, I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like and she'll never know your story like I do."

Would you look at that? Two lines into the first verse and the accusations are already flying in. I'm racking my brain trying to recall this Tuesday night conversation with Lucas, but as you know it takes some time for this massive brain of mine to sort through everything all for such a trivial detail. But never mind that for now. All I want to know is, how does she know I'm upset and "going off" about something he said when she's in her room? Did she wiretap his phone? And for your information, Tay, I get his humor. I get it. "That's what she said" jokes are not my cup of tea, but if you and Lucas have bonding moments over giggling fits anytime someone uses a sentence with the word "long" or "hard", then be my guest. Country music isn't my cup of tea either, but you don't see me implying some sort of inferiority when I mention that you don't listen to Chopin or Tchaikovsky, do you? Oh wait.

"But, she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts. She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time. If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You, you belong with me, you belong with me."

Damn right, I wear short skirts. Not only is it the prescribed uniform for every single cheerleading squad in the country, it'd be a travesty for legs like mine to be constantly bundled in pants every day. That's as if Taylor Lautner stopped flaunting his shirtless body in those Twilight movies and tried to woo Kristen Stewart in lumpy Christmas sweaters instead. Can you imagine the outrage? It's a travesty, I tell you.

When you're a 5'11" cheerleader, it's a crime to wear pants.

"Walking the streets with you and your worn-out jeans, I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be. Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself... Hey, isn't this easy? And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town, I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down. You say you're fine, I know you better than that... Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?"

Now I'm confused. Brought him down? Pray tell, where did I bring him down to? Now that you mention it, I was always the one bringing him anywhere, not the other way around. Who drove the car in the music video? That's right. If you really think having a boyfriend like Lucas is about laughing on park benches and walking down streets in worn-out jeans, you are sadly mistaken. And oh, there's my favorite line: "Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?" If you close your eyes, you can practically hear the line from Eminem's "Ass Like That" echoing in the background. "Hey what ya doing with a girl like that? I ain't never seen an ass like that."

"She wears high heels, I wear sneakers. She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers. Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time. If you could see that I'm the one who understands you. Been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me. Standing by and waiting at your back door all this time how could you not know? Baby, you belong with me, you belong with me."

Wearing high heels is nothing to be ashamed of. It's a skill. It's an art. Walk around campus in those for a day and let me know how nice your feet feel afterwards.

"Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night. I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry and I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams. Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me."

Well, there we go again with… wait… WHAT? Lucas drove to her house in the middle of the night? What kind of a boyfriend drives to another girl's house in the middle of the night? What kind of a boyfriend goes to another girl other when he's about to cry? Hell, what kind of a boyfriend tells another girl about his dreams? Lucas is not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, I will admit that, but anyone who is supposed to be regarded as my social equivalent should at least have the common sense not to associate with someone of inferior rank. And speaking of Lucas, where has he been this whole time this song has been causing havoc? Why hasn't he already publicly responded to such a heinous love letter to preserve what remaining dignity he's been left with after the girl made the outrageous suggestion that he, of all people, should belong to her?

I don't get it, Lucas. How do you even manage to BREATHE around that disgusting thing? I can't even look at something that ugly without getting hives.

Either this girl is a pathological liar, or a king is about to be beheaded.

"Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me. Standing by and waiting at your back door... all this time, how could you not know? Baby, you belong with me, you belong with me. You belong with me, have you ever thought just maybe... You belong with me? You belong with me."

You know what, Tay? You're right. A man worthy of my affections would have already denounced such an atrocious conjecture that he should belong to anybody else. A man worthy of my affections would have ripped the song out of the air from the FM airwaves with his bare hands the moment he first heard that song on the radio.

Excuse me? You don't get tired of drama; drama gets tired of you. OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!

So you know what, Tay? You don't need to lurk around the back door anymore. Take him. He's all yours.