Reality. Someone needs to spell that out for you, let it piss on your parade, and burst your barbie princess bubble.
I imagine that it'll take you longer than a minute for you to imagine what that must be like. Since, heh, cheerleaders. They're not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed or the brightest crayons in the box, right?
Must by why you're hanging out and making out with freakbrains up there.
Better test scores = better college = better sorority = more bitches for you to round up. Awesome.