The entire squad has converged in Brooke's Return of the Living Spirit Fingers HQ. Little Miss Con-cheer-iality stands in front of the group with her hands on her hips and barks, "Guess who's in the lobby? I'll tell you -- Clare Young and her little ho posse." Peyton jokes, "Okay! And if an angry dance-off breaks out, I got your back." Heh. Brooke's not pleased with Peyton's new-found sense of humour. She snits, "Great. Just don't stick another knife in it." Heh. Brooke bounds off after tossing a Secret deodorant at Teresa and barking, "Teresa, hit those pits and cover that zit. Points off for complexion." And who said revenge doesn't have a lot of energy? It seems Brooke's pouring her heart and soul into cheerleading because everything else in her life is such a mess.
And the corporate whore award goes to Secret! Hooray! There's Secret here, there, and everywhere. There's a huge display of the stuff in the lobby, where all the different cheerleading teams are milling about. So, Clare Young is blonde. In fact, ninety percent of her squad is blonde. And wearing about sixty pounds of makeup. Doesn't that make the cheerleaders hella-heavy to toss up in the air? Anyway, Brooke approaches with her sweetest, "Hi Clare, we just wanted to wish you luck this weekend." Clare turns around and bitches, "Um, we've won four years in a row." Someone else pipes up, "Including Clare for best choreography." Clare continues, "Yeah, so maybe you should keep your luck for yourself." She pauses for a second. Each girl places one hand on her hip like it honestly bears a spirit-finger holster. Clare says, "And who are you?" Brooke replies haughtily, "You know who I am, Brooke Davis, captain of the Tree Hill Ravens. We roomed together last summer at Spirit Camp." Clare says she has a faint recognition of Brooke, oh, and don't the Ravens lose every year? Then Clare and the Blonde Bombshell Posse checks out, leaving a steaming Brooke in its wake. With her teeth clenched, Brooke mutters, "Oh, it is so on." Heh. And I'll probably say this many times in this episode, but where are Kirsten Dunst and Gabrielle Union when you need them? There's that whole wrong-side-of-the-tracks element missing from this battle of, ahem, wits -- I mean, "twigs."