Fic: Friday Night Charades of Youth (Britta)
Title: Friday Night Charades of Youth
Rating: PG
Summary: She goes back to that part of her life in her mind and thinks that she had never felt like she knew she was doing the right thing more strongly. She was an idiot. She wasn't a rebel or a free-thinker, or a do-gooder. She was a coward. She was scared of finishing something.
Disclaimer: I do not own Community. At all. I wish but alas...
Author's Note: Sort of a character study of Britta centered around 'Pascal's Triangle Revisited'.
Britta has never won anything before.
A friend from high school (before she had dropped out, that is) had told her that she would make a good Class President, that she had good ideas, and that she was probably the only person she knew that actually cared about things. Britta had chuckled and said, "Well that's just sad." She had said student government was arbitrary, that you could never do any real good here.
It was about two months later that she dropped out.
She goes back to that part of her life in her mind and thinks that she had never felt like she knew she was doing the right thing more strongly. She was an idiot. She wasn't a rebel or a free-thinker, or a do-gooder. She was a coward. She was scared of finishing something. Scared of being elected Class President and actually having to live up to her hype. She had been eighteen years old, staring down the barrel of college and she had run.
It was like she told Jeff when she had cheated on Chang's test: She was used to screwing up, to failing, and to the disappointment that always followed those failures. It was easier to not try at all.
That was all supposed to change here, though. She had her GED, but it wasn't enough. Not anymore. She wanted to finish something, to see it through, to try and succeed for once. So she went to classes, joined a study group, made friends, dated, went to dances. But this Tranny Queen thing (if she wasn't so used to this crazy place by now she'd marvel at the fact that she's actually wearing a sash that says 'Tranny Queen' on it) had thrown her for a loop.
Because of it, she had to reconsider what her real objection was. Was she really offended at the idea of being judged on her looks, or was this high school student government all over again? Was she so afraid of losing she had to think up some reason to not even try?
She guesses she should thank Slater for giving her the push - even though it was an asinine and ridiculous impulse that drove her to accept her nomination, and she had done it for all of the wrong reasons. Maybe the reasons don't matter; maybe what matters is that she's trying for something. Even if it was probably just a cheap dollar store crown.
At least, these are the thoughts swirling in her head as she sits outside pulling at the threads of her sash and contemplating this whole mess of an evening. She had made such an ass of herself tonight. She had gone into this whole thing with the intention of proving to herself (yeah, and Slater) that she wasn't eighteen anymore. She was older, wiser. She wasn't afraid to fail anymore.
Well, she stopped being afraid of failure just in time, because right now, she was nothing if not a spectacular failure. She had barged her way on stage under the assumption that she had at long last won something, when she had not. She had lied to Jeff and told him she loved him (in front of a crowd that included pretty much all of their friends) in an idiotic, competitive bid to retain her upper hand on Slater, only to have him walk out on the both of them.
With a sigh, she pulls the sash from around her shoulders and lays it in her lap. She looks at it, sadly. She should be comfortable with failing (she was used to it, after all), but as it turns out, failing when you're not trying and failing when you actually are trying are two very different things.
She stands up and holds the sash loosely in her hands. She's tired and humiliated and all she wants to do is go home. She wouldn't want the crown now, even if she won it. So she starts to walk out to her car. No matter how much time passes, she can't seem to escape that eighteen year old girl who dropped out of high school because she was convinced that she knew better.
Britta has never won anything before. You'd think she'd be used to that by now.
Rating: PG
Summary: She goes back to that part of her life in her mind and thinks that she had never felt like she knew she was doing the right thing more strongly. She was an idiot. She wasn't a rebel or a free-thinker, or a do-gooder. She was a coward. She was scared of finishing something.
Disclaimer: I do not own Community. At all. I wish but alas...
Author's Note: Sort of a character study of Britta centered around 'Pascal's Triangle Revisited'.
Britta has never won anything before.
A friend from high school (before she had dropped out, that is) had told her that she would make a good Class President, that she had good ideas, and that she was probably the only person she knew that actually cared about things. Britta had chuckled and said, "Well that's just sad." She had said student government was arbitrary, that you could never do any real good here.
It was about two months later that she dropped out.
She goes back to that part of her life in her mind and thinks that she had never felt like she knew she was doing the right thing more strongly. She was an idiot. She wasn't a rebel or a free-thinker, or a do-gooder. She was a coward. She was scared of finishing something. Scared of being elected Class President and actually having to live up to her hype. She had been eighteen years old, staring down the barrel of college and she had run.
It was like she told Jeff when she had cheated on Chang's test: She was used to screwing up, to failing, and to the disappointment that always followed those failures. It was easier to not try at all.
That was all supposed to change here, though. She had her GED, but it wasn't enough. Not anymore. She wanted to finish something, to see it through, to try and succeed for once. So she went to classes, joined a study group, made friends, dated, went to dances. But this Tranny Queen thing (if she wasn't so used to this crazy place by now she'd marvel at the fact that she's actually wearing a sash that says 'Tranny Queen' on it) had thrown her for a loop.
Because of it, she had to reconsider what her real objection was. Was she really offended at the idea of being judged on her looks, or was this high school student government all over again? Was she so afraid of losing she had to think up some reason to not even try?
She guesses she should thank Slater for giving her the push - even though it was an asinine and ridiculous impulse that drove her to accept her nomination, and she had done it for all of the wrong reasons. Maybe the reasons don't matter; maybe what matters is that she's trying for something. Even if it was probably just a cheap dollar store crown.
At least, these are the thoughts swirling in her head as she sits outside pulling at the threads of her sash and contemplating this whole mess of an evening. She had made such an ass of herself tonight. She had gone into this whole thing with the intention of proving to herself (yeah, and Slater) that she wasn't eighteen anymore. She was older, wiser. She wasn't afraid to fail anymore.
Well, she stopped being afraid of failure just in time, because right now, she was nothing if not a spectacular failure. She had barged her way on stage under the assumption that she had at long last won something, when she had not. She had lied to Jeff and told him she loved him (in front of a crowd that included pretty much all of their friends) in an idiotic, competitive bid to retain her upper hand on Slater, only to have him walk out on the both of them.
With a sigh, she pulls the sash from around her shoulders and lays it in her lap. She looks at it, sadly. She should be comfortable with failing (she was used to it, after all), but as it turns out, failing when you're not trying and failing when you actually are trying are two very different things.
She stands up and holds the sash loosely in her hands. She's tired and humiliated and all she wants to do is go home. She wouldn't want the crown now, even if she won it. So she starts to walk out to her car. No matter how much time passes, she can't seem to escape that eighteen year old girl who dropped out of high school because she was convinced that she knew better.
Britta has never won anything before. You'd think she'd be used to that by now.