Status: Indefinite hiatus~
Puck You.
Spanish Knowing Bastard.
Jameela slouched into English, handing her teacher a slip of paper before digging her hands back into her pockets.
“Oh, so you’re new, are you? Well seeing as you are, I won’t hold your lateness against you. After all, it is your first day.” The man said, frowning up at Jameela from his desk.
“Gee, how nice. Thanks.” Jameela grumbled, returning the dark look.
“Well seeing as you’re up the front, you can introduce yourself to the class. And take your hat off.” He added, returning his eyes to the lap top open on his desk.
Muttering darkly, Jameela turned to look at the class, all of whom had looked up from various conversations to stare at the late arrival.
“What?” Jameela asked standoffishly, scowling. “I’m Jameela. Got a problem?”
Way to go man, the little voice in her head said as she made her way to an empty seat near the back. Great first impression.
She slammed herself down into the seat, dropping her bag on the floor and tearing her beanie off. She shook out her dreads and slumped back in her chair, tipping her head back.
Drama queen.
Shut up.
You shut up.
Jameela heard the classroom door open again, Mr. Burton mutter a few words, footsteps and then the slap of an ass being dropped into a seat.
Running her fingers through her locks, she lifted her head and straightened up a little before digging in her bag and pulling out a notebook and a couple of chewed on pens. Picking one up, she tapped it on the front cover of her notebook, casting a casual glance around the room.
Looking absently to her left, her chocolate eyes met a pair of grey-blue ones, which were staring very intently in her direction.
“What?” Jameela repeated, scowling at the owner of those eyes – a pale skinned, well dressed boy with hair that must’ve taken at least twenty minutes to sculpt. The porcelain complexion alone made her gaydar go off, not to mention the expensive wardrobe and the beautiful hair.
“Oh, not very friendly. But I’d just like to say that you have the most amazing facial structure I have ever seen. Seriously.”
Yup. The voice confirmed it.
“Well… Uh, thanks.” Jameela replied, rubbing one cheek self-consciously. She attempted a smile, but gave up on it pretty quick – just because she was being polite didn’t mean she needed to smile.
“You’re welcome. I’m Kurt. Kurt Hummel,” the Armani-wearing boy said, his pink lips pulling up in a smile.
“Jameela Tora.” Jameela replied.
“Oh, I know who you are. I think you might regret insulting Noah and his friends the way you did.” Kurt said with a knowing smile, ignoring the scowl of Mr. Burton, who was looking at them pointedly from where he sat at the front of the room.
“Noah? Who’s Noah?” Jameela asked quietly, tilting her head to the side slightly, her thick thatch of dreads falling over her shoulder.
“Noah Puckerman… People call him Puck.” Kurt explained, tapping his pen on his desktop.
“Oh, right. Fuck.”
“Fuck? That’s clever of you.” Kurt’s words were laced with sarcasm.
“Oh suck it, pretty boy. How do you know about the whole me threatening ugly thing? It was only like, ten minutes ago.” Jameela asked, her eyebrows scrunching together.
“Don’t forget the punching Cranston in the gut thing. Kudos to you on that, by the way. Word travels fast here – incredibly so. It probably doesn’t help that Mike Chang is the biggest loudmouth about stuff like this.”
“Who?”
Kurt sighed and pointed subtly to a lanky looking Asian boy two aisles over. He grinned at Jameela when she turned to look. Jameela scowled as she looked back to Kurt, who just smiled.
“I think I’ll grow to like you, Lala.”
“Don’t fuckin’ call me Lala.” Jameela growled, slapping open her notebook and picking up a pen. She looked to the board, where several paragraphs had been written, obviously for the class to copy down.
I fuckin’ hate this already.
~
How Jameela dragged herself through four periods without punching someone was anyone’s guess. She sure as hell didn’t know. All she knew was that if she didn’t get some food soon, she was going to snap.
Jameela stalked into the cafeteria, hands jammed into pockets, her shoulders sloped a little. Just as she had expected, at least half the room turned to look at her. Ignoring the stares she headed to the food queue.
Obviously these kids didn’t get fresh meat this often.
Or they’d never seen someone who’d stared a fight on their first day.
Or maybe they just wanted to see the girl who’d punched a fat douche in the gut.
Whatever.
Collecting her meal – which was made up of a sandwich, an apple and a bag of potato chips, seeing as you’re asking – she turned to look at the cafeteria, searching for an empty table.
“Lala! Hey! Lala!”
Jameela’s eyes traveled to Kurt, who was waving her over to a semi-full table. She stomped over and dumped her tray on the table.
“Kurt. What the fuck have I told you about calling me Lala?”
She slapped her butt down onto the bench, beside Kurt.
“I think it’s cute.”
“Well it fuckin’ ain’t. Now ain’t you gonna introduce me to your nice friends here?” Jameela grumbled, eyeing Kurt for a moment before turning her gaze on the rest of the table.
Kurt sighed dramatically, before reeling off names.
“This is Mercedes,” He gestured to a black girl, whose skin was a shade or two different to Jameela’s.
He named a round-cheeked Asian girl as Tina, a dark haired, brown-eyed girl as Rachel. The kid in the wheelchair was Artie, and the guy with his arm around Rachel’s shoulders was Finn.
“And you already know Mike.” Kurt finished, nodding firmly.
Mike grinned at Jameela, who stuck her tongue out at him.
“’Sup guys. I’m Jameela.”
“Oh, we know who you are.” Mercedes said, smiling.
Jameela sighed.
“I’m really starting to hate that, y’know?” She grumbled, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a bite.
Kurt laughed, and started chattering to Mercedes, leaving Jameela to eat her sandwich in peace. She didn’t say much during her first lunch break at McKinley – she concentrated her efforts on eating, offering the odd word when prompted.
She said a few casual good-byes as she left the cafeteria, waving her fingers in Mercedes’ direction before heading down the hall to Spanish. Wrenching open the door, about to step inside, someone shoulder barged Jameela, nearly knocking her face first into the wall of lockers.
“What the fuck man!?” Jameela gasped, catching herself in time and turning to see who the douchebag was. She wasn’t half surprised to see Noah Puckerman grinning down at her.
“Bitch,” She hissed, drawing herself up to her full height. She was still a few inches shorter than Puck, but the anger emanating from her made him take a step back. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“The hottest player in Ohio.” He answered, trying to sound casual as he stuck his hands in his pockets.
Jameela narrowed her eyes at him, hissed a long string of curses and stormed into the classroom, slamming the door behind her, nearly squishing Puckerman’s hand in the process.
The class was still half empty – Jameela hurried to a seat at the back, avoiding the looks of her new classmates. She recognized a few faces, but had no names to go with them.
She sat just as the door was opened again and Puckerman swaggered in, having recovered from the surprise of having a door slammed in his face. He shot a grin at Jameela as he sat down next to her, and Jameela raised her middle finger in reply.
“¡clase buenas tardes!” Mr. Schue exclaimed as he breezed into the class room, a book and a sheaf of papers under one arm.
“Buenas tardes, señor.” The class parroted back. Jameela had a very loose grasp on formal Spanish. She had lived in a mainly Hispanic neighbourhood for several years, so she had a wide vocabulary of less than appropriate Spanish words and slang, but no real knowledge of the language. She did, however, have enough sense to copy the rest of the class.
She pulled out her notebook as Mr. Schue prattled on in Spanish, digging a whiteboard marker out of his desk drawer and beginning to write on the board. Another problem – Jameela could read jack shit in Spanish.
“Oh god, I’m screwed.” She grumbled under her breath, tipping her head back.
“¡Ah, Jameela! Usted está en mi clase. Chicos, esta es nuestra nueva estudiante Jameela Tora.” Mr. Schue said, gesturing to Jameela. “ ¿Hablas mucho español, Jameela?”
Jameela forced a smile as she looked up, and shrugged.
“Un poco,” She replied, tapping her fingers on the desk.
“¡Muy bien! Estoy seguro de que va a hacer bien en esta clase.” Mr. Schue announced cheerfully, grinning. He paused for a moment, before turning back to the board. “Ustedes que copiar este hacia abajo, luego se emparejan y ponerse a trabajar en la hoja de cálculo.”
Jameela sighed and began copying down the stuff that was written on the board.
“Psst. Psssst! Marley!”
Jameela’s head jerked up, her eyes narrowing.
“Fuck. What do you want?” She growled, as Puck grinned at her.
“You look like you need some help. I’ll be your partner.” He said, his grin turning into a mildly suggestive smirk.
“No.” Jameela replied bluntly, keeping her face and voice calm.
“Well actually, I kinda have to. There’s no one else for you to partner with, seeing as they’re all scared of you. And they’re scared of me, too.” He retorted, his smirk growing.
Jameela groaned, slapping her face into her palm.
“Fuck me,” She muttered.
“Well, I’m sure we can arrange something,” Puck replied smugly.
Well I walked into that one, Jameela thought, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Not if you were the last guy on earth.” She answered, shooting a scowl at him as she examined the work sheet she was to be sharing with Puckerman, a scowl on her face.
Something about… Conjunctions and Verb forms? She couldn’t be certain.
“Screw this,” She grumbled, dropping it down onto the desk again and tapping her pen against the pale table top. She ignored the snort of mirth from Puckerman, propping her cheek on her right fist, the rings she wore digging into the soft skin of her cheek.
“Jeez, this stuff ain’t that hard, Marley.” Noah said, his amusement clear in his voice.
“I don’t know much Spanish,” Jameela retorted dully, swiveling her head to look at Puckerman. “Got a problem with that, Fuck?”
Noah sighed, frowning a little.
“Kill the attitude, Marley. I’mma help you.” He said, shifting his desk over a little.
Jameela thought for a moment before pushing her desk to join with his, just like the other pairs had. Puck nodded and began explaining what the sentences meant in a whisper, leaning towards Jameela a little, pointing to words with the end of his pen as he explained the meaning.
Now this is getting weird.
“Oh, so you’re new, are you? Well seeing as you are, I won’t hold your lateness against you. After all, it is your first day.” The man said, frowning up at Jameela from his desk.
“Gee, how nice. Thanks.” Jameela grumbled, returning the dark look.
“Well seeing as you’re up the front, you can introduce yourself to the class. And take your hat off.” He added, returning his eyes to the lap top open on his desk.
Muttering darkly, Jameela turned to look at the class, all of whom had looked up from various conversations to stare at the late arrival.
“What?” Jameela asked standoffishly, scowling. “I’m Jameela. Got a problem?”
Way to go man, the little voice in her head said as she made her way to an empty seat near the back. Great first impression.
She slammed herself down into the seat, dropping her bag on the floor and tearing her beanie off. She shook out her dreads and slumped back in her chair, tipping her head back.
Drama queen.
Shut up.
You shut up.
Jameela heard the classroom door open again, Mr. Burton mutter a few words, footsteps and then the slap of an ass being dropped into a seat.
Running her fingers through her locks, she lifted her head and straightened up a little before digging in her bag and pulling out a notebook and a couple of chewed on pens. Picking one up, she tapped it on the front cover of her notebook, casting a casual glance around the room.
Looking absently to her left, her chocolate eyes met a pair of grey-blue ones, which were staring very intently in her direction.
“What?” Jameela repeated, scowling at the owner of those eyes – a pale skinned, well dressed boy with hair that must’ve taken at least twenty minutes to sculpt. The porcelain complexion alone made her gaydar go off, not to mention the expensive wardrobe and the beautiful hair.
“Oh, not very friendly. But I’d just like to say that you have the most amazing facial structure I have ever seen. Seriously.”
Yup. The voice confirmed it.
“Well… Uh, thanks.” Jameela replied, rubbing one cheek self-consciously. She attempted a smile, but gave up on it pretty quick – just because she was being polite didn’t mean she needed to smile.
“You’re welcome. I’m Kurt. Kurt Hummel,” the Armani-wearing boy said, his pink lips pulling up in a smile.
“Jameela Tora.” Jameela replied.
“Oh, I know who you are. I think you might regret insulting Noah and his friends the way you did.” Kurt said with a knowing smile, ignoring the scowl of Mr. Burton, who was looking at them pointedly from where he sat at the front of the room.
“Noah? Who’s Noah?” Jameela asked quietly, tilting her head to the side slightly, her thick thatch of dreads falling over her shoulder.
“Noah Puckerman… People call him Puck.” Kurt explained, tapping his pen on his desktop.
“Oh, right. Fuck.”
“Fuck? That’s clever of you.” Kurt’s words were laced with sarcasm.
“Oh suck it, pretty boy. How do you know about the whole me threatening ugly thing? It was only like, ten minutes ago.” Jameela asked, her eyebrows scrunching together.
“Don’t forget the punching Cranston in the gut thing. Kudos to you on that, by the way. Word travels fast here – incredibly so. It probably doesn’t help that Mike Chang is the biggest loudmouth about stuff like this.”
“Who?”
Kurt sighed and pointed subtly to a lanky looking Asian boy two aisles over. He grinned at Jameela when she turned to look. Jameela scowled as she looked back to Kurt, who just smiled.
“I think I’ll grow to like you, Lala.”
“Don’t fuckin’ call me Lala.” Jameela growled, slapping open her notebook and picking up a pen. She looked to the board, where several paragraphs had been written, obviously for the class to copy down.
I fuckin’ hate this already.
~
How Jameela dragged herself through four periods without punching someone was anyone’s guess. She sure as hell didn’t know. All she knew was that if she didn’t get some food soon, she was going to snap.
Jameela stalked into the cafeteria, hands jammed into pockets, her shoulders sloped a little. Just as she had expected, at least half the room turned to look at her. Ignoring the stares she headed to the food queue.
Obviously these kids didn’t get fresh meat this often.
Or they’d never seen someone who’d stared a fight on their first day.
Or maybe they just wanted to see the girl who’d punched a fat douche in the gut.
Whatever.
Collecting her meal – which was made up of a sandwich, an apple and a bag of potato chips, seeing as you’re asking – she turned to look at the cafeteria, searching for an empty table.
“Lala! Hey! Lala!”
Jameela’s eyes traveled to Kurt, who was waving her over to a semi-full table. She stomped over and dumped her tray on the table.
“Kurt. What the fuck have I told you about calling me Lala?”
She slapped her butt down onto the bench, beside Kurt.
“I think it’s cute.”
“Well it fuckin’ ain’t. Now ain’t you gonna introduce me to your nice friends here?” Jameela grumbled, eyeing Kurt for a moment before turning her gaze on the rest of the table.
Kurt sighed dramatically, before reeling off names.
“This is Mercedes,” He gestured to a black girl, whose skin was a shade or two different to Jameela’s.
He named a round-cheeked Asian girl as Tina, a dark haired, brown-eyed girl as Rachel. The kid in the wheelchair was Artie, and the guy with his arm around Rachel’s shoulders was Finn.
“And you already know Mike.” Kurt finished, nodding firmly.
Mike grinned at Jameela, who stuck her tongue out at him.
“’Sup guys. I’m Jameela.”
“Oh, we know who you are.” Mercedes said, smiling.
Jameela sighed.
“I’m really starting to hate that, y’know?” She grumbled, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a bite.
Kurt laughed, and started chattering to Mercedes, leaving Jameela to eat her sandwich in peace. She didn’t say much during her first lunch break at McKinley – she concentrated her efforts on eating, offering the odd word when prompted.
She said a few casual good-byes as she left the cafeteria, waving her fingers in Mercedes’ direction before heading down the hall to Spanish. Wrenching open the door, about to step inside, someone shoulder barged Jameela, nearly knocking her face first into the wall of lockers.
“What the fuck man!?” Jameela gasped, catching herself in time and turning to see who the douchebag was. She wasn’t half surprised to see Noah Puckerman grinning down at her.
“Bitch,” She hissed, drawing herself up to her full height. She was still a few inches shorter than Puck, but the anger emanating from her made him take a step back. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“The hottest player in Ohio.” He answered, trying to sound casual as he stuck his hands in his pockets.
Jameela narrowed her eyes at him, hissed a long string of curses and stormed into the classroom, slamming the door behind her, nearly squishing Puckerman’s hand in the process.
The class was still half empty – Jameela hurried to a seat at the back, avoiding the looks of her new classmates. She recognized a few faces, but had no names to go with them.
She sat just as the door was opened again and Puckerman swaggered in, having recovered from the surprise of having a door slammed in his face. He shot a grin at Jameela as he sat down next to her, and Jameela raised her middle finger in reply.
“¡clase buenas tardes!” Mr. Schue exclaimed as he breezed into the class room, a book and a sheaf of papers under one arm.
“Buenas tardes, señor.” The class parroted back. Jameela had a very loose grasp on formal Spanish. She had lived in a mainly Hispanic neighbourhood for several years, so she had a wide vocabulary of less than appropriate Spanish words and slang, but no real knowledge of the language. She did, however, have enough sense to copy the rest of the class.
She pulled out her notebook as Mr. Schue prattled on in Spanish, digging a whiteboard marker out of his desk drawer and beginning to write on the board. Another problem – Jameela could read jack shit in Spanish.
“Oh god, I’m screwed.” She grumbled under her breath, tipping her head back.
“¡Ah, Jameela! Usted está en mi clase. Chicos, esta es nuestra nueva estudiante Jameela Tora.” Mr. Schue said, gesturing to Jameela. “ ¿Hablas mucho español, Jameela?”
Jameela forced a smile as she looked up, and shrugged.
“Un poco,” She replied, tapping her fingers on the desk.
“¡Muy bien! Estoy seguro de que va a hacer bien en esta clase.” Mr. Schue announced cheerfully, grinning. He paused for a moment, before turning back to the board. “Ustedes que copiar este hacia abajo, luego se emparejan y ponerse a trabajar en la hoja de cálculo.”
Jameela sighed and began copying down the stuff that was written on the board.
“Psst. Psssst! Marley!”
Jameela’s head jerked up, her eyes narrowing.
“Fuck. What do you want?” She growled, as Puck grinned at her.
“You look like you need some help. I’ll be your partner.” He said, his grin turning into a mildly suggestive smirk.
“No.” Jameela replied bluntly, keeping her face and voice calm.
“Well actually, I kinda have to. There’s no one else for you to partner with, seeing as they’re all scared of you. And they’re scared of me, too.” He retorted, his smirk growing.
Jameela groaned, slapping her face into her palm.
“Fuck me,” She muttered.
“Well, I’m sure we can arrange something,” Puck replied smugly.
Well I walked into that one, Jameela thought, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Not if you were the last guy on earth.” She answered, shooting a scowl at him as she examined the work sheet she was to be sharing with Puckerman, a scowl on her face.
Something about… Conjunctions and Verb forms? She couldn’t be certain.
“Screw this,” She grumbled, dropping it down onto the desk again and tapping her pen against the pale table top. She ignored the snort of mirth from Puckerman, propping her cheek on her right fist, the rings she wore digging into the soft skin of her cheek.
“Jeez, this stuff ain’t that hard, Marley.” Noah said, his amusement clear in his voice.
“I don’t know much Spanish,” Jameela retorted dully, swiveling her head to look at Puckerman. “Got a problem with that, Fuck?”
Noah sighed, frowning a little.
“Kill the attitude, Marley. I’mma help you.” He said, shifting his desk over a little.
Jameela thought for a moment before pushing her desk to join with his, just like the other pairs had. Puck nodded and began explaining what the sentences meant in a whisper, leaning towards Jameela a little, pointing to words with the end of his pen as he explained the meaning.
Now this is getting weird.
♠ ♠ ♠
Well that was a load of fail. :PHaha.
Sorry for taking so long, guys. School's a valid excuse, right? xD
This chapter is kinda fail - I have been having some major brain farts as of late. This chapter has been choked out at much expense to my mental well-being, lol (I played Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre on repeat for a good part of this chapter... I actually think that I'll make that one of Puck's songs? xD). So you better enjoy it. *waves baseball bat threateningly* hawhaw.
Please excuse my poor Spanish skills - I had to bust out the workbook big time for this, lol. If any of you can correct my mistakes, I'd be more than grateful. ;D
So yeah.
Crappy chapter, but things are going to get better eventually, with the tuneage and the drama and the llamas.... Wait, whut? xD
So yeah. Beginning-ish of season 2 - Matt hasn't left, but Sam Evans is now at WMHS. And Puck is back from Juvie. What's a good fanfic without a little screwing of the timeline? xD
Also;;
Big thanks to the uber awesome:
Broseph
Onlythegooddieyoung
Contagonistlove
Futterwacken
<3
You guys are the bomb[dot]com. ;D
Also to the five subscribers.
Ya'll rock mah world.