Candy's Idol

"And your winner, Rowdy Reiko!"

As she stepped into her locker room, the ring announcer's words that had thundered through the arena were now thundering through her head.

Not even bothering to change into her pajamas, Becky simply slid off her elbow pads, knee pads, and white boots before plopping into her bed, taking a moment to look at the surroundings of her locker room before she jerked the covers over her head and rolled onto her side, hoping to fall asleep rather quickly.

When Becky tried to let her mind drift off into the nothingness of sleep, however, the image of her victorious opponent Rowdy Reiko flipping off the turnbuckle to crash down upon her remained cemented in her head, keeping her blood flowing and her senses alert, too alert to let her gently slip out of consciousness.

The Rumble Bunny grunted angrily and turned onto her opposite side as if to swat the thought out of her head. She let herself lay there for a minute or two just staring blankly at the inside of the cover draped over herself as she wondered just how she could manage to get to sleep.

An idea soon came to the cheerleader. Thinking back to an old trick she heard of as a child, Becky took a shot at counting sheep, conjuring up an image of the fluffy little farm dwellers hopping over a quaint little fence of wood atop a green hill in her head, counting each little bundle of fluff as they hopped over the fence,

"1, 2, 3..."

She stopped, suddenly finding that another voice made its way into her psyche,

"1, 2, 3!"

It was the voice of the referee.

Again, Rebecca snapped onto her opposite side, once more slapping the thought out of mind.

Becky soon realized that she would be unable to shake off those sleep-intrusive thoughts on her own, and so would need something else to take her mind off of them, distract her, and thus allow her to ease off into dreamland.

She first considered watching TV. Unfortunately, the cheerleader soon remembered that she no longer had a television in her room.

She and her teacher both agreed that it was far too distracting to have in the locker room when she was trying to study, and so it was removed a few weeks ago. Ergo, Rebecca would have to think of something else.

First, her eyes glided across the walls of the room, starting with the back wall, boasting the half-dead plant in its gaudy, soil-filled pot across from her bed in the corner, then the wooden-doored closet, which consumed most all of the rest of the space that wall had to offer. The little bit of space provided by the corner on the opposite side of the closet was empty, long without a nackered, stickered-up, un-tuned, and yet treasured pawn shop-priced Les Paul to fill it.

She didn't miss it very much. She didn't have time to practice it anyway, as gymnastics and history books ate-up whatever spare time Becky managed to sneak into her scheduling. It made sense, though. She didn't have time to piddle away with that loud, bombastic rock and roll stuff, as her teacher had explained. Thanks, Ms. Spencer.

Turning to her right, Becky eyed the wall across from her bed. The wall that was once lovingly adorned in posters and pictures of Sid Vicious, Johnny Ramone, Frankie Venom, and various others now played host to a few school banners, along with her framed awards and scholarships: "Honor Roll- 5th six weeks", "Most Valuable Player - Toronto Independent High School Cheer Squad", "Perfect Attendance 08", and so on and so on. The only thing that was still the same about it was the tall mirror near its right corner.

Again, another agreement between herself and her teacher. Who needs to surround themselves with dead rockstars when you could surround yourself with truly honorable material? Why yes, that was the ticket. Thanks, Ms. Spencer.

Her eyes continued their rotation. Skipping past the door of the room, Becky spotted her mess of books laying atop her small bedside desk. They were all school books, dealing with chemistry, world history, among other things. While one of those would certainly bore her to sleep, the Rumble Bunny was rather burnt out on the "school" stuff, and so let them be.

She then looked in the desk's sliding drawer, and found her mp3 player. She hadn't really listened to it very much as of late (Thanks, Ms. Spencer), but the cheerleader was desperate. After all, it was certainly better than reading about Canadian history. She grabbed it and popped her headphones into her ears, ready to let whatever song that started playing take her mind and slowly push her negative thoughts out,

"Under the floor againOnce I was up and in the air but now I'm downGoodbye to all my friendsForget I ever was, the mole goes undergroundUnder the floor ag-"

"Gah!" she groaned, yanking the earphones out and plopping the music player back into the drawer.

Forgoing that strategy altogether, Becky returned to square one by pulling the covers over her head yet again, once more trying to clear her thoughts on her own.

Just as before, this strategy had an adverse effect of what she had hoped for, as the more she tried to clear her head, the fuller it became, as if she was fighting against quicksand. Now, new thoughts were sprouting from the seeds of the ones already plaguing her.

Though losing matches had been quite commonplace with Becky as of late, she couldn't believe that she had let herself lose this match. No, not this match, not the match: the match that would have awarded her the Rose of Roses championship. How she had been awarded the opportunity was beyond her, what with her losing streak in full effect, not that it mattered now, she lost.

It wasn't so much the fact that she lost that was eating at Rebecca, but rather how she lost.