Jake starts unpacking his bag as Peyton collapses on the opposite bed. How come he doesn't have a roommate? The way Whitey's been fixing people up, I was certain he would have ended up with Dim. Peyton asks him how it's going, and Jake says he's going through Jenny withdrawal. You know, Hilarie Burton is getting so much better; she's not even a quarter as annoying as she used to be, and she's wearing cute Converse running shoes -- and in my world, the shoes really make a character. Anyway. Peyton says that he needs a weekend away, you know, just to relax and have a good time. She continues, "It doesn't happen too often." Jake continues to unpack. How much stuff did he bring? It's just one night. Jake drops a shirt on the bed and says, "There's been some new developments." Peyton leans forward: "Oh really? What are they?" But before Jake! can tell her about the triumphant return of Slutty Nikki, Brooke pounds on the door screaming for Peyton. She slides off the bed, says, "Sorry, Cheer Nazi calls," slaps Jake's hand with a high five, and exits hotel door left. Jake! looks a bit disappointed; he's digging Peyton, even if the vibe between them has been of the friendship nature up until now. Oh, then he goes back to unpacking. Because you can never be too prepared when it comes to The Classic.
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."