Status: Indefinite hiatus~
Puck You.
The Locker.
Jameela slumped back in her chair, her hands dug into the pockets of her shorts as her new principal droned on. The big-nosed, balding Pakistani man smiled at Jameela, his hands folded on the desk top.
“I’m very glad to welcome you to William Mckinley High,” he continued, nodding like one of those dogs people kept on their dashboards. “I hope you find yourself more comfortable here than you did at the Academy.”
Jameela grimaced at the mention of her last school. Jane Addams Academy for troubled female youth. She’d officially finished her ‘sentence’ at the school and was ready for regular schooling again. To be unleashed upon the masses, per say. It was her second ‘bout of freedom – the last one hadn’t worked to well. Then again, ‘borrowing’ a teacher’s car and beating the snot outta a football player was never a good way to start a term. After another trip to juvie, six more months at Jane Addams and a summer’s worth of anger management classes, she was ready for another try at normality.
Jameela yawned and shrugged her shoulders, slouching more in her seat.
“Yeah Figgins, whatever. Look, can I go now?” She asked, flicking a dreadlock over her shoulder. Realizing the attitude was a bad idea, she slapped a smile on her face. Offending the head teacher was never a good way to start off. “You don’t want me to be late on my first day, do you?”
Figgins nodded enthusiastically, seemingly unaware of Jameela’s hostility.
“That’s the spirit!” He exclaimed, smiling eagerly, his eyes bulging slightly. “Turning over a new leaf! You’ll do well at this school, Ms. Tora!”
Jameela gave an appropriation of a smile – this guy was really starting to freak her out – and pushed herself out of the chair she had been sitting in. She picked her scuffed messenger bag off the floor and slung it over her shoulder, Bob Marley side out.
Continuing to smile and nod, Figgins ushered Jameela out as she pulled on her beanie, telling her to ‘have a good day and collect your planner from Mrs. David in the front office.’
Slouching out into the office, Jameela muttered a few words to the previously mentioned Mrs. David, and was given a planner and a jumble of papers in reply. She dumped the planner into her bag without a second look, and eyed the timetable for a moment before stuffing that in there two. She walked out of the office, reading the map. Her locker was marked on it in red.
“Here goes nothing’,” Jameela muttered, pulling her headphones up over her ears and folding up the map. She slipped it into the breast pocket of her blue plaid shirt, which lay unbuttoned over a white Run DMC shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Jameela had already decided she wasn’t going to be that pathetic new kid that wandered around with a map thrust under their nose – she was gonna play it cool.
She slipped her hands into her pockets as she stalked out into the crowded hallways, loud drum n’ bass thrumming in her ears, her ‘bitch, please, talk to me and I will cut you’ scowl fixed on her face. She strode towards her locker, her skin tingling uncomfortably with the feeling of all those eyes watching her.
She couldn’t hear what people were saying over the music in her ears. But she knew it was about her – it was obvious, the way they were looking at her and whispering behind their hands. Obviously, they had been told of her arrival – the words ‘Jane Addams’ and ‘crazy’ on the lips of those who had not shielded their mouths told her this.
Fuck them, She thought, allowing herself a vicious thought before calming herself down again.
Approaching her new locker, her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the group of jocks, picked out by their letterman jackets, standing around the locker next to hers, effectively blocking her path to her own.
“Oh great,” She grumbled as she walked over. The sound of her approach made them look up, their conversation ceasing, surprised expressions on their faces. Obviously, chicks that weren’t desperate sluts didn’t approach them that often.
The only one who didn’t look confused was the both the tallest and the best looking. Nice tan, broad shoulders, hard body, hazel eyes. Very nice. But his suffocating air of cockiness overrode his attractiveness.
And he has a stupid haircut, Jameela thought vehemently, eyeing his Mohawk with a look of distaste.
“’Scuse me,” She muttered, turning her dark-eyed scowl on the two letterman wearing douche bags that stood in front of her locker. “I gotta get to my locker. Could ya move?”
“That ain’t yo‘ locker,” The scowl-wearing minion said, looking her straight in the eye. He was the same height as Jameela – just making six foot, maybe a tiny bit over. He stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against Jameela’s locker.
“Yeah, it is. Now haul ass, before I kick it between your ears.” Jameela wasn’t messing around. Sure, she kept her tone smooth and casual, but the expression on her face and the arms folded across her chest said she was sorely pissed. She wasn’t taking any shit today, and she was makin’ sure this jackass knew it.
A chorus of ‘ooooh’s followed her statement, from both the jocks and a few of the braver observers. The flaxen haired male bristled at this – his expression of amused irritation turned to one of anger.
“Is that a threat, bitch?” He growled, pushing off the locker and taking a step forward, bringing himself within striking distance of Jameela. “’Cause lemme tell you – I ain’t afraid of hittin’ a girl. Especially a smartass whore that deserves it.”
“So you hit your own mother, you mean?”
Another chorus of ‘oooooh’s and a growl from the blonde.
“Bitch. What did you just say?”
“So you’re deaf now, as well as stupid? Do you need me to explain my clever little insult to you? Well, basically I insinuated that your mother is a smartass whore, quote unquote. You copy now?”
Jameela was actually starting to enjoy this. Watching this idiot slowly tick towards boiling point was extremely entertaining, and the fact that she was the cause gave her a huge sense of self-pride. Her moment of contemplation was cut short as the idiot suddenly lunged for her with a roar.
Now this was more like it.
Jameela ducked before his fist could make contact with her face, and slammed her ring-bearing hand into his stomach. Hard. The air in the jock’s lungs forced its way out with a gasp, and the guy staggered forward, choking on the lack of air. Jameela lunged towards him as he went to turn, but was cut short by a tug on her arm that nearly pulled it out of its socket. She turned to hit whoever had grabbed her, but a large warm hand wrapped around her wrist, cutting her strike short.
“Cool it, Marley. Mr. Schue’s comin’. Don’t want to get busted on your first day, do ya?” Mohawk kept his grip on her wrists as he spoke, hazel eyes serious. Gone were the cocky grin and the casual air. He was the only one of his little group that wasn’t wearing a letterman jacket – only a simple white shirt. A simple white shirt that clung to his annoyingly perfect chest and arms.
“Why do you care?” Jameela growled, checking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t going to be attacked from behind. The jock she had insulted was being restrained by one of his friends, still trying to catch his breath.
“’Cuz I’ll get pinned for startin’ this,” Mohawk growled, releasing one on her wrists as a butt-chinned teacher approached.
“Puck! What’s going on here?” The man asked, furrowing his brow at Mohawk.
Puck? What the hell were his parents smoking when they named him Puck?
“Nothin’ Mr. Schue. We’re just getting… acquainted with the new student.” Mohaw– Puck said casually, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he leaned back against his locker, releasing Jameela’s other wrist.
Jameela pulled her arm back to her side, shaking the assortment of bracelets that hung on her wrist – a scuffed leather cuff, a few beaded hemp bracelets and a few friendship ones, most made from rasta coloured thread. She leveled her gaze to this Mr. Schue - What kind of name was that anyway? – and quirked an eyebrow slightly.
“Is that right?” Mr. Schue asked, looking to Jameela. He stared at her a moment before introducing himself. “I’m Mr. Schuester, but everyone calls me Mr. Schue. I teach Spanish and I’m the director of the Glee club.” He offered with a smile, extending a hand.
Jameela nodded and shook it firmly, before retiring her hand to her pocket.
“You’re the girl from Jane Addams, right?” Mr. Schue continued.
“That’s me,” Jameela replied with a sigh. “I’m Jameela Tora and I’ll be you resident reformed delinquent for the rest of the year.”
Mr. Schue smiled.
“Well if you ever want to try something fun… as a positive outlet for your anger, come see me and the rest of Glee club. If you like music, it’d be good for you!” And with that he walked off, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Well that was fucking weird,” Jameela muttered, staring after him for a moment before going to her locker, ignoring Puck, who was watching Jameela with a raised brow.
“Jane Addams, huh Marley?” He said, glancing at her. “You’re pretty badass, I take it.”
Shoving a few things into her locker, Jameela slammed the door and glared at Puck.
“You bet it, Fuck. I have no problems with beating the shit outta you, so you better watch yourself. And if you ever lay your hands on me again, I’ll see that you lose them.” She hissed, her face inches from his.
Puck noted the stud in her left nostril and the scar in her eyebrow absently, his eyes flicking from them to her chocolate irises, which were narrowed, long lashes almost zipping her eyes shut.
After glaring at him for a moment, Jameela re-shouldered her bag and stalked around him, calling over her shoulder: “And get a real damn haircut, douchebag!”
Puck’s mouth fell open slightly as he watched her stalk away, the crowds of students parting like they were the red sea and she was Moses.
Mike stepped up next to Puck, grinning broadly.
“I think you have some competition, Fuck.” He said, using Jameela’s new nickname for the left tackle.
Puck’s eyes darted to the lanky Asian boy, who thankfully, was alone. Rutherford was probably already in class, like the good little dork he was.
“Shut it Chang.” Puck growled and stormed off, leaving Mike laughing his head off.
“I’m very glad to welcome you to William Mckinley High,” he continued, nodding like one of those dogs people kept on their dashboards. “I hope you find yourself more comfortable here than you did at the Academy.”
Jameela grimaced at the mention of her last school. Jane Addams Academy for troubled female youth. She’d officially finished her ‘sentence’ at the school and was ready for regular schooling again. To be unleashed upon the masses, per say. It was her second ‘bout of freedom – the last one hadn’t worked to well. Then again, ‘borrowing’ a teacher’s car and beating the snot outta a football player was never a good way to start a term. After another trip to juvie, six more months at Jane Addams and a summer’s worth of anger management classes, she was ready for another try at normality.
Jameela yawned and shrugged her shoulders, slouching more in her seat.
“Yeah Figgins, whatever. Look, can I go now?” She asked, flicking a dreadlock over her shoulder. Realizing the attitude was a bad idea, she slapped a smile on her face. Offending the head teacher was never a good way to start off. “You don’t want me to be late on my first day, do you?”
Figgins nodded enthusiastically, seemingly unaware of Jameela’s hostility.
“That’s the spirit!” He exclaimed, smiling eagerly, his eyes bulging slightly. “Turning over a new leaf! You’ll do well at this school, Ms. Tora!”
Jameela gave an appropriation of a smile – this guy was really starting to freak her out – and pushed herself out of the chair she had been sitting in. She picked her scuffed messenger bag off the floor and slung it over her shoulder, Bob Marley side out.
Continuing to smile and nod, Figgins ushered Jameela out as she pulled on her beanie, telling her to ‘have a good day and collect your planner from Mrs. David in the front office.’
Slouching out into the office, Jameela muttered a few words to the previously mentioned Mrs. David, and was given a planner and a jumble of papers in reply. She dumped the planner into her bag without a second look, and eyed the timetable for a moment before stuffing that in there two. She walked out of the office, reading the map. Her locker was marked on it in red.
“Here goes nothing’,” Jameela muttered, pulling her headphones up over her ears and folding up the map. She slipped it into the breast pocket of her blue plaid shirt, which lay unbuttoned over a white Run DMC shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Jameela had already decided she wasn’t going to be that pathetic new kid that wandered around with a map thrust under their nose – she was gonna play it cool.
She slipped her hands into her pockets as she stalked out into the crowded hallways, loud drum n’ bass thrumming in her ears, her ‘bitch, please, talk to me and I will cut you’ scowl fixed on her face. She strode towards her locker, her skin tingling uncomfortably with the feeling of all those eyes watching her.
She couldn’t hear what people were saying over the music in her ears. But she knew it was about her – it was obvious, the way they were looking at her and whispering behind their hands. Obviously, they had been told of her arrival – the words ‘Jane Addams’ and ‘crazy’ on the lips of those who had not shielded their mouths told her this.
Fuck them, She thought, allowing herself a vicious thought before calming herself down again.
Approaching her new locker, her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the group of jocks, picked out by their letterman jackets, standing around the locker next to hers, effectively blocking her path to her own.
“Oh great,” She grumbled as she walked over. The sound of her approach made them look up, their conversation ceasing, surprised expressions on their faces. Obviously, chicks that weren’t desperate sluts didn’t approach them that often.
The only one who didn’t look confused was the both the tallest and the best looking. Nice tan, broad shoulders, hard body, hazel eyes. Very nice. But his suffocating air of cockiness overrode his attractiveness.
And he has a stupid haircut, Jameela thought vehemently, eyeing his Mohawk with a look of distaste.
“’Scuse me,” She muttered, turning her dark-eyed scowl on the two letterman wearing douche bags that stood in front of her locker. “I gotta get to my locker. Could ya move?”
“That ain’t yo‘ locker,” The scowl-wearing minion said, looking her straight in the eye. He was the same height as Jameela – just making six foot, maybe a tiny bit over. He stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against Jameela’s locker.
“Yeah, it is. Now haul ass, before I kick it between your ears.” Jameela wasn’t messing around. Sure, she kept her tone smooth and casual, but the expression on her face and the arms folded across her chest said she was sorely pissed. She wasn’t taking any shit today, and she was makin’ sure this jackass knew it.
A chorus of ‘ooooh’s followed her statement, from both the jocks and a few of the braver observers. The flaxen haired male bristled at this – his expression of amused irritation turned to one of anger.
“Is that a threat, bitch?” He growled, pushing off the locker and taking a step forward, bringing himself within striking distance of Jameela. “’Cause lemme tell you – I ain’t afraid of hittin’ a girl. Especially a smartass whore that deserves it.”
“So you hit your own mother, you mean?”
Another chorus of ‘oooooh’s and a growl from the blonde.
“Bitch. What did you just say?”
“So you’re deaf now, as well as stupid? Do you need me to explain my clever little insult to you? Well, basically I insinuated that your mother is a smartass whore, quote unquote. You copy now?”
Jameela was actually starting to enjoy this. Watching this idiot slowly tick towards boiling point was extremely entertaining, and the fact that she was the cause gave her a huge sense of self-pride. Her moment of contemplation was cut short as the idiot suddenly lunged for her with a roar.
Now this was more like it.
Jameela ducked before his fist could make contact with her face, and slammed her ring-bearing hand into his stomach. Hard. The air in the jock’s lungs forced its way out with a gasp, and the guy staggered forward, choking on the lack of air. Jameela lunged towards him as he went to turn, but was cut short by a tug on her arm that nearly pulled it out of its socket. She turned to hit whoever had grabbed her, but a large warm hand wrapped around her wrist, cutting her strike short.
“Cool it, Marley. Mr. Schue’s comin’. Don’t want to get busted on your first day, do ya?” Mohawk kept his grip on her wrists as he spoke, hazel eyes serious. Gone were the cocky grin and the casual air. He was the only one of his little group that wasn’t wearing a letterman jacket – only a simple white shirt. A simple white shirt that clung to his annoyingly perfect chest and arms.
“Why do you care?” Jameela growled, checking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t going to be attacked from behind. The jock she had insulted was being restrained by one of his friends, still trying to catch his breath.
“’Cuz I’ll get pinned for startin’ this,” Mohawk growled, releasing one on her wrists as a butt-chinned teacher approached.
“Puck! What’s going on here?” The man asked, furrowing his brow at Mohawk.
Puck? What the hell were his parents smoking when they named him Puck?
“Nothin’ Mr. Schue. We’re just getting… acquainted with the new student.” Mohaw– Puck said casually, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he leaned back against his locker, releasing Jameela’s other wrist.
Jameela pulled her arm back to her side, shaking the assortment of bracelets that hung on her wrist – a scuffed leather cuff, a few beaded hemp bracelets and a few friendship ones, most made from rasta coloured thread. She leveled her gaze to this Mr. Schue - What kind of name was that anyway? – and quirked an eyebrow slightly.
“Is that right?” Mr. Schue asked, looking to Jameela. He stared at her a moment before introducing himself. “I’m Mr. Schuester, but everyone calls me Mr. Schue. I teach Spanish and I’m the director of the Glee club.” He offered with a smile, extending a hand.
Jameela nodded and shook it firmly, before retiring her hand to her pocket.
“You’re the girl from Jane Addams, right?” Mr. Schue continued.
“That’s me,” Jameela replied with a sigh. “I’m Jameela Tora and I’ll be you resident reformed delinquent for the rest of the year.”
Mr. Schue smiled.
“Well if you ever want to try something fun… as a positive outlet for your anger, come see me and the rest of Glee club. If you like music, it’d be good for you!” And with that he walked off, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Well that was fucking weird,” Jameela muttered, staring after him for a moment before going to her locker, ignoring Puck, who was watching Jameela with a raised brow.
“Jane Addams, huh Marley?” He said, glancing at her. “You’re pretty badass, I take it.”
Shoving a few things into her locker, Jameela slammed the door and glared at Puck.
“You bet it, Fuck. I have no problems with beating the shit outta you, so you better watch yourself. And if you ever lay your hands on me again, I’ll see that you lose them.” She hissed, her face inches from his.
Puck noted the stud in her left nostril and the scar in her eyebrow absently, his eyes flicking from them to her chocolate irises, which were narrowed, long lashes almost zipping her eyes shut.
After glaring at him for a moment, Jameela re-shouldered her bag and stalked around him, calling over her shoulder: “And get a real damn haircut, douchebag!”
Puck’s mouth fell open slightly as he watched her stalk away, the crowds of students parting like they were the red sea and she was Moses.
Mike stepped up next to Puck, grinning broadly.
“I think you have some competition, Fuck.” He said, using Jameela’s new nickname for the left tackle.
Puck’s eyes darted to the lanky Asian boy, who thankfully, was alone. Rutherford was probably already in class, like the good little dork he was.
“Shut it Chang.” Puck growled and stormed off, leaving Mike laughing his head off.
♠ ♠ ♠
Weeeew, Glee.I'll put a real AN at the end of the next chapter.
Time is short!
But basically, this is set at the beginning of season 2 - except Matt hasn't left.
Don't ask me why - Matt is just awesome. xD
So enjoy.