Status: Indefinite hiatus~
Puck You.
Payback
“Ah, the sound of teenage suffering. Don’t you just love it, Matty Matt?”
“Not really, Jameela.”
“Really? I think it’s kind of… Refreshing.”
“Jesus Christ, you sound like Sue.”
Jameela tilted her head to the side, eyebrow quirked.
“Sue? Who is this Sue?”
Matt sighed as they walked towards Jameela’s locker.
“The coach of the Cheerios –” Spying the blank look on Jameela’s face, he verified: “They’re the cheerleading squad. She’s crazy mean, crazy aggressive and just straight up crazy. If she were president, the rest of the world woulda been ‘nuked ages ago. She really hates Glee club and Mr. Shue. Y’know, you should really join Glee.”
“We talked about this yesterday, Matthew. I ain’t joinin’ Glee club.” Jameela retorted, stopping in front of her locker. She twiddled the dial between her thumb and forefinger, and slammed the door open. The binder in her arms went in, and a few books came out, which she promptly slipped into her bag. Shutting it, she leant back against it, tipping her head back.
“I am not a show tunes kind of gal – you of all people should know that.” Jameela added, lifting her head to glower at Matt.
Matt gave an exasperated sigh, his eyes drifting upwards, as though asking some greater power to give him strength.
“We don’t sing only show tunes. Hell, we hardly ever sing ‘em. Rachel and Kurt are the only ones who belt them on a regular basis.”
“But still. I don’t do show choir. Or singing in general. Instruments, I’m fine with. But not singing. Not for people, anyways.”
Matt sighed again, rolling his eyes.
“Okay, whatevs. Look, I gotta go finish my Bio homework – it was due in yesterday.”
“Naughty naughty!” Jameela proclaimed, shaking her slim index finger at him.
“Shut up. See you at lunch.” He added.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’mma hang here and get my money outta Puckerman,” Jameela rubbed her hands together, grinning.
Matt laughed.
“Have fun with that, midget.” And with that, he turned and strode off, books tucked under his arm. Jameela watched him go, arms folded across her chest as she settled back to wait for Noah.
“Midget? I ain’t no midget.”
She pulled her head phones over her ears and switched her iPod back on, scrolling through her endless lists of songs. Selecting one, she dropped it back into her pocket and tipped her head back again. She didn’t get to finish the damn song, though.
Along came Kurt, looking more cheery than should be possible in the morning. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a beauty salon or some fucking fashion magazine.
“Good morning Lala.” He said, smiling at her, a binder in his manicured hands.
Jameela focused on turning off her iPod so she wouldn’t snap at him. The nickname shit was starting to wear thin. Kurt didn’t seem to realize it was time to knock it on the fuckin’ head. She’d never been fond of nicknames – not even when her mother used to call her Jam Tart. And yet she had acquired two new names in the previous twenty-four hours. Sure, Kurt was that totally adorable gay guy who made the nickname thing almost cute, but she still had the strong urge to shout at him. And Puck… He may have a nice bod, but his hair was stupid and so was he.
After several moments of silence, it became clear to Kurt that Jameela was not going to reply to his greeting.
“The silent treatment, huh?”
“I was just trying to decide the best way to kill you, Hummel.” Jameela replied, baring her teeth in a snarly little grin.
Kurt faked a laugh.
“Very droll… Okay, kind of creepy now.” Kurt muttered.
Jameela’s snarl turned into a proper smile.
“That is what I was aiming for. Have you seen Puckerman?” She continued, fiddling with the wire of her headphones absently.
Kurt’s delicately sculpted eyebrow shifted, scaling up his pale forehead.
“Interested in him, are you?” Kurt asked, his voice taking on a tone Jameela did not care for.
“Jesus Christ Kurt, don’t be so fuckin’ stupid. That little bitch owes me money.” Jameela grumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “I do have some standards. What made you think that, anyway? Has someone been running their mouth about me already?”
“No. It’s just that when girls talk to Puck, they usually don’t do it for the conversation.” Kurt replied smoothly, completely ignoring Jameela’s rudeness.
“Yeah well, I ain’t that kind of girl.” Jameela replied, frowning.
“Good to know. I’ll see you in English, Lala.” Kurt announced, taking his leave all of a sudden in a flurry of expensive coat and leather shoulder bag.
“I like the outfit, by the way. Tré chic! Not sure about the boots, though.” He called over his shoulders waving his fingers briefly.
“What have people got against the boots? Honestly.”
Jameela flipped him the bird, slumping back when he was out of sight.
“This being nice to people shit is hard.”
“Tell me about it.”
Jameela jerked lightly, her hands curling into fists of their own accord. She was prone to attacking when she got startled – reflexes like that happened when you went to juvie. She had begun trying to combat the habit, so Puckerman was lucky to avoid a hook in the mouth.
“Shit Puckerman, don’t sneak up on me like that.” Jameela muttered, lowering her hands, her fists unbunching.
Puck chuckled, twisting his combo on the dial and pulling open his locker.
“You should’ve seen the look on your face.” He said, slamming his locker shut and grinning at her. “What ya waitin’ for, anyway? Me?”
Jameela faked a smile, pushing off her locker.
“Actually, Puckerman, I am waiting for you,” She said in a falsely sweet voice, fluttering her lashes at him. Puck’s grin grew wider and smugger, his eyes shining slightly. Jameela’s fake sweetness dissipated abruptly, and her scowl became darker. “I want my money, Noah.”
“Don’t call me Noah.”
“Awww, doesn’t wittle Noah wike it when big meanie Jameewa picks on him?” Jameela mocked, her scowl transforming into a vindictive grin. Noah growled a string of curses and stalked down the corridor. Jameela jogged to catch up, the heavy soles of her combat boots thudding on the lino.
“That’s not nice language, wittle Noah,” Jameela retorted, her joking manner dropping once more. She was like a dog with a bone when it came to cash. “Now give me my money.”
“Christ, you’re kind of a massive bitch.” Noah muttered, tucking a thumb under the strap of his bag.
“No shit, Puckerman.” Jameela replied shrugging one shoulder casually. The corridors were starting to empty now – the first warning bell had already rung, and classes were on the brink of starting for the day. Classroom doors were closing and lessons were being written up on whiteboards.
“Hey!” A gruff voice rang out behind the pair. “Tora!”
Jameela turned, her hands bunching into fists. When someone sounded that pissed, they were usually looking for a fight. She was greeted with the sight of an unpleasantly doughy face – Cranston.
“What?” Jameela growled, her heckles up, her fists rising slightly as she eyed Cranston. He was holding a large plastic cup, filled with some purple churned up ice. A demonic look was painted on his face, his teeth bared, his eyes wide.
“What the f--” Jameela was cut off as Cranston snapped his arm back, and hurled his slushy into her face.
Wasn’t expecting that.
Jameela gasped for air as the freezing purple sludge dripped down her face, slithering over her monochromatically striped shirt. She stood silent, frozen by her anger. Cranston laughed, as did the handful of jock friends that backed him.
“That’s what you get when you mess with the man, hoe.” He said, smirking at her.
“You. Little. Bastard!” Jameela managed, her hands shaking slightly as her rage began to thaw. Her voice sounded like a growl – a snarl of pure anger, almost animalistic. Her hands lifted slowly to clear her eyes, flicking away the plum-coloured substance. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
And with that, she launched herself at Cranston, her fist connecting with his eye. He sprawled back, nearly knocking over some of his friends. She lunged again, but was halted by two arms that wrapped around her waist from behind, lifting her off the ground and pulling her away.
“Puck! Fuckin’ let me go so I can strangle that fat bastard!” She screeched, her hands clawing at Puck’s bared forearms, her nails scrabbling against his smooth skin.
“Not a chance, Marley.” Puck growled in reply, swinging her around and dragging her down the hall.
“You better watch your back, Cranston! I’ll get you, don’t you fuckin’ worry! I’ll get you good!” She shouted, trying to twist around in Noah’s tight hold.
“I’m sure you will,” Puck murmured, carrying the struggling girl down the corridor, much to the amusement of Matt, who’d just left the library, books under his arm, when Puck and Jameela passed.
“Hey Puck,” He greeted casually as they passed, as though he’d seen it all before.
“Matt,” Puck replied curtly, inclining his head in a slight nod.
“Up yours, Rutherford.”
Matt laughed as Jameela gestured rudely at him, and headed off in the opposite direction, whistling between the slight gap in his front teeth.
“Bastard,” Jameela muttered, turning as far as Puck’s grip would allow, to glare at his retreating figure. “And to think I used to share my snack-pack with him.”
Puck snorted, rolling his eyes. What was this girl, bi-polar? One second she was ready to tear someone’s throat out, the next she was getting all nostalgic about Matthew effin’ Rutherford.
“Puckerman, this has been fun and all, but are you going to put me down anytime soon?” Jameela grumbled.
“You chill?”
“Like a fuckin’ iceberg. Just put me down, Jesus Christ.”
And with that, Noah dropped her onto the lino. Jameela stumbled slightly as she landed then straightened, eyeing her shirt with a look of distaste.
“My ma is gonna kill me,” She groaned, plucking ineffectually at the purple-stained cloth, as though she expected the marks to magically disappear.
Puck laughed. “Oh, big badass is scared of her mommy.” He mocked.
“Fuck you, Puckerman. You’d be scared of my ma too.” Came her harsh reply.
Noah rolled his eyes, though secretly, he agreed with her. Her mother was probably a bajillion times scarier than Jameela, and probably pretty hot as well, if her daughter was anything to go by. Pushing that thought from his mind, he looked back to Jameela, who was groaning incoherent curses as she tried to wring out the corner of her shirt.
“C’mon. Go to the nurse. She washes shit for people who get slushied now… Mainly because she got sick of Rachel screaming her head off all the time.” Puck laughed lightly.
“That is understandable. Good-bye, Puckerman.” Jameela growled and stalked off, hands bunched into fists.
“You’re going the wrong way, you realize?” Puck called after her. He watched, grinning a little as she swore under her breath and turned on her heel, stalking back towards him.
“I knew that,” She muttered as she passed. That was a lie of course, and an obvious one at
that. “I was just testing you.”
“Yeah, sure you were.” Puck rolled his eyes, and jogged to catch up with her.
“Shut it, Puckerman.”
That was it for the entire walk. No ‘thanks for stopping me from beating the shit out of him and getting in trouble’ or ‘you know what Noah, you’re actually a nice guy’ from her. Not that he’d really been expecting it… But still, a thank you would have been nice. But he didn’t guess he was going to get one, not from this girl.
When you were that badass, you didn’t say please.
~
“Okay Jameela baby, do you have a shirt to wear while this one is getting washed?” The plump nurse’s voice was sassy – she didn’t sound like she took any prisoners. “Because we can’t have you going around shirtless, can we? You might get a cold.” She let out a little giggle, and Jameela’s eyebrow climbed even higher up her face. What the hell was this lady on?
“I wouldn’t mind it,” Noah muttered, leaning against the wall, smirking slightly. He was pretty buddy-buddy with Ruth, the school nurse. He’d cut enough classes to come and sleep in her office that they were on first name terms.
“Hush you. I hope this wasn’t your handiwork,” Ruth continued, her voice taking on a disapproving tone as she gestured to Jameela, who was perched on the edge of the bed, looking like she wanted to scream and throw something.
Noah held up his hands, protesting his innocence.
“No way, Ruth. I started with the man in the mirror, and I changed my ways.” He replied, grinning. He caught sight of Jameela rolling her eyes – obviously, she’d caught the reference. And obviously, she didn’t approve. The middle finger she raised in his direction was some indication to her level of disapproval. The finger disappeared as soon as Ruth turned, replaced by a puppy dog face.
“So dear, where was I... Oh right. Do you have a spare shirt to wear?” Ruth clucked, bustling over to the medicine cupboard, in which she’d been stacking fresh bandages before the pair’s arrival. Jameela shook her head.
“We don’t have gym today, so I don’t have anything spare. Isn’t there anything spare here?” Jameela asked, her words tinged with worry. This was not a good second day, no sir. Not a good second day at all.
Puck wasn’t making anything better, either. He was trying not to laugh, making a little choking noise. Fuck, she wanted to punch him.
“There’s a boy... Lord, I forget his name. Glasses, ginger... Kind of.... Kind of a white afro –”
“Jacob?” Puck supplied, apparently recovered from his attack of mirth.
“Oh that’s him. He gets slushied more than the whole of Glee put together... And he never seems to return the clothes. Lord knows what he does with them.”
Jameela snorted and spluttered, as did Noah. They knew exactly what Jacob did with the clothes – seeing as Rachel’s dads had donated a whole heap of their family’s old things.
“But no, no spare clothes.”
“Shit,” Jameela hissed. “Today really ain’t my day.”
She cradled her face in her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp. She had her dreads tied back today – in a bun, twisted up and tied with a thick rope of hair. Around her head, like a hairband, she’d tied a red bandanna. That combined with the turquoise skull on a chain, the bleach-pale jeans, the leather cuffs and the large skull ring, along with the heavy soled military boots made a pretty hot outfit, Puck noted, despite the lack of flesh shown. Damn, did she have nice legs, as those tight jeans so kindly displayed. And a great ass. Shit. What he wouldn’t give to –
“You can have my shirt, Marley.”
Jameela’s head shot up, her brows pulling together in a confused little frown. “What?”
“My shirt. You can have it.” Puck said again, unbuttoning the blue plaid shirt he wore. Underneath was a plain white shirt, like the one he’d been wearing yesterday. “At least, for today.”
“Noah! That’s so kind of you. Now ain’t that a gentleman?” Ruth said, taking the shirt from the youth and folding it over her arm for a moment, smoothing any wrinkles that may have formed in the second that it hadn’t had a wearer. “You’d do good to stick with this boy, honey. A girl like you could keep him in line.”
“Wait, what? You think – oh, no. Hell no. I’ve been here a day and you think I’ve already hooked this wannabe pimp as my man? No thank you.” Jameela replied tartly, snatching the shirt from the chocolate-skinned nurse, and stalking into the adjoining bathroom. Gripping the sink, she stared at her slushy stained face in the mirror – what the hell was happening to her? She didn’t know. Sighing, she began to scrub her face with handfuls of coldwater.
Noah watched her slam the door with a raised eyebrow. Wooo, touchy. He didn’t think being Noah Puckerman’s girlfriend was such a bad thing. There were a hundred girls in this school that would give anything to be Puckzillia’s woman, and to ride little Puck. Sheesh, Jameela needed to chill. Her hotness level was totally lowered when she took shit so seriously. Ruth gave a little ‘humph’ and strutted out of the room.
Jameela reappeared several minutes later, primped and preened. Her soggy shirt was scrunched in one hand, her torso now covered with Noah’s button up. It all but swamped her – she may have had pretty broad shoulders for a girl, but it was nothing on the Puckerone. It was actually a pretty good look on her – Puck knew it’d be better if she wasn’t wearing anything underneath but hey, he wasn’t complaining. He had never been happier that the top button had been lost in the wash some weeks ago, and he hadn’t found it again – he could make out the colour of her bra along as getting a good eyeful of her cleavage. Pretty decent, in fact – not as ample as Santana’s, but Jameela’s weren’t suffused with silicone. At least, Noah didn’t think they were. And as the boob connoisseur he was, he knew he was right.
“Nice look, babes.”
“Fuck up, Puckerman.”
“That’s not very nice,” Noah noted, as she stalked past him. “I could just take the shirt back, you know. And what would happen then?”
“I’d fuckin’ strangle you with it, that’s what’d happen.” She replied as Ruth reappeared.
“Aw honey, you look fine. Here, gimme that, and I’ll wash it for you.” She took Jameela’s stained shirt and handed her a note. “A late slip – for your teacher. Come and see me at the beginning of third period, I’ll have your shirt cleaned for you.”
Jameela muttered a hurried thank you, then high-tailed it the fuck outta there. On her way out, she caught sight of a familiar face – looked like the hard man needed some ice for his boo-boo. Awww.
“Cranston you pussy.” Jameela hissed as she passed, shouldering him as she passed, and went out into the hall. The heavy tread behind her told that Puckerman was indeed following her.
“Shouldn’t you be going to class, Fuck?”
“Meh. This is more fun.”
“Not as educational, though. And bro, you need all the education you can get.” Jameela did not turn her head to look at him – she concentrated on walking at an even pace.
“Oh, that’s harsh. So I’m not even going to get a thank you?”
“Nope,” Jameela replied, popping the P like an asshole. She knew she should probably be nicer to Puck – he’d been pretty good towards her, with the whole scenario. But she didn’t care – it was probably just a ruse to get some. She’d known guys like him before; hell, her brother had been one, before he’d gotten whip— married. Yeah, married. Whipped just put way too many dominatrix images in her head, after what her brother said last time. Ugh.
“Real nice.”
“Yup.” Another P pop. Damn, she was getting good at this. “Well this has been fun, but I should really go. Bye, Puckerman.”
But before Jameela could reach for the handle of the class door, a large hand gripped her upper arm, swinging her into the lockers. A second later, a hard body was pressed to hers, trapping her against the cool wall of metal.
“You know, you could always say thank you in another way.” Puck’s breath played against the skin of her cheek, warm and slightly damp. She felt heat curl up the back of her neck, but she kept a straight face, her hand sliding up to his steely pectorals.
“I’m good, actually. I think I’ll stick to verbal expressions of gratitude.” She pushed against Noah’s chest, but he refused to move. She heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes before giving in.
“Thank you, Puckerman. For the shirt—” A pointed look from the Jewish boy prompted her to continue. “And for keeping me from injuring your teammate. Let me go.”
Puck stepped away, grinning.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He taunted, sliding a hand over his ‘hawk.
“Shut up. That’s the last time you manhandle me, ca pice?” Jameela retorted, jabbing a finger at him. Seriously, did he not hear her first warning? She thought she made the whole ‘hands off’ thing pretty bloody clear.
When the left tackle said nothing in reply, Jameela cursed and shouldered him out of the way, stepping back to open the door. She spared Puck a glance over her shoulder as she entered the class and the door swung closed. Eyes connected for a moment – chocolate locking with caramel. But the bond was broken as soon as it was gained – Jameela’s head snapped back at the sound of her teacher’s croaky voice.
“You do realize that you are fifteen minutes late? Fifteen!”
“Yes sir – I have a note.” Jameela replied tiredly, handing the elder man the scrap of paper before heading to her seat. Once again, every eye followed her. As soon as she sat, Kurt leant over the aisle.
“That’s not the shirt you were wearing earlier – what happened? Why are you late? Isn’t that Puck’s shirt?” He shot questions at the dread-locked girl, who cupped her face in her hands.
“I’ll explain later, okay? Just shut up for five seconds.”
Kurt gave a huffy ‘fine’ and sat back, impatiently waiting out the rest of the class.
~
“So after Cranston slushied you, you tried to punch him – and Puck stopped you? Picked you up? And gave you his shirt?”
“That is what I said, Kurt.”
“He has very nice arms, doesn’t he?”
“I’ve felt better.”
“I bet you still enjoyed it.”
Kurt hung off Jameela’s arm as they walked through the busy corridor, heading for the cafeteria. Kurt had accosted her straight after World History – he’d been waiting outside when the bell rang; hungry for details. He’d looped his arm through his and ordered her to tell him, tossing his head indignantly – he believed he’d been more than patient enough. Jameela had grudgingly explained what had happened, leaving out their final confrontation – it seemed strangely private, and she didn’t want to give Kurt anything to get excited about.
She’d only worn Puck’s shirt for two periods, and yet, people were already whispering shit behind her back.
“Shut up.”
“So you’re not denying it, then?”
“I don’t feel I should have to deny it – It should be obvious how I feel.”
“Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you can’t admire a nice body when you see one – or in your case, feel one.”
“Shut up.”
Jameela had brought her own lunch today – they did not stop in line for food, but instead made a beeline for the table they had been seated at the previous day. The rest of the group was already there – today with the addition of Matt - watching for Kurt and his taller companion.
“Kurt! Jameela! There you are! We’ve been waiting to hear what happened!” That was Tina’s excited exclamation as she leant across the table. The others added their nods of approval, and Finn asked in a confused voice whether the shirt slung across Jameela’s bag was indeed Puck’s.
“Yes Finn, it is.” She sighed resignedly as she settled herself next to Mercedes, digging for her thermos in her bag.
“Girl, what the hell happened? You didn’t--”
“No,” Jameela countered, before Mercedes could ask. “I got slushied, okay? By that ugly fuck Cranston. Puck stopped me from beating Cranston’s face in, and gave me his shirt to wear while mine was getting washed – that ginger creep had taken all the spare clothes.”
Her admission was greeted with a round of laughter and smug looks.
“Welcome to the club,” Rachel said. Her prissy tone was almost superior, and it made
Jameela want to toss her leftover noodle soup in the girl’s face. “We’ve all been slushied by various members of the football team – even Finn.”
“What? Why all of you?”
“Because we’re Glee clubbers. It’s part and parcel with being a member.” Rachel continued, tossing her thick hair contemptuously. “They are just jealous of my—our amazing talent.”
“I’m actually surprised you lasted this long without a slushy facial,” Mercedes interjected. “Most new kids get done on the first day – usually more than once.”
“It’s because I’m from Jane Addam’s. I have a rep – most of those jocks were shittin’ their pants when I punched Cranston – they were scared they were next.”
Matt snorted, and Jameela punched him in the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Matt whined, cupping his injured bicep with his other hand. He stood up a moment later, tossing his head haughtily. “That’s it Jameela, I’m leaving.”
“’kay. Bye, Matt.” Jameela replied, not looking up as she dug her spork into the lukewarm noodley water. Matt gave another indignant head toss.
“Don’t pretend you don’t care,” He exclaimed, slinging his bag over his shoulder, picking up his brown paper bag and struck a pose.
"Don’t worry, I won’t. Give Puck his shirt, will ya?” Jameela asked, tossing the bundle of blue fabric at her dramatic friend.
“And your love too, I suppose?”
“I will neuter you if you so much as think about doing that, okay?”
Matt didn’t reply, but stalked away, swishing his ass in an attempt at a runway walk. Jameela snorted into her soup while Mike wolf-whistled.
“Jameela girl, you should join Glee club – seeing as you’re gettin’ slushied, you might as well have a reason to be.”
Jameela looked up from her soup to lock eyes with Mercedes, one delicately shaped eyebrow arched.
“I’m not really a show choir kind of girl, thanks. Matt’s already suggested it to me – I’m not a singer.” She told the other black girl, digging at her soup, not really hungry for it.
“You don’t have to be. I’m not.”
“Yeah well Chang, I’ve heard you dance like a pimp,” Jameela retorted slyly, a statement which made the Asian boy grin.
“That has been said – but seriously. We Glee clubbers, we’re like a family, as corny as it sounds. Going to McKinley high, you need one.”
“I’m fine. Seriously. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”
“Leave her alone, guys.” Rachel chided, reaching across the table to pat the back of Jameela’s hand in what she seemed to think was a nice way. “She’s obviously intimidated. Don’t worry, Jameela. My talent is nothing to be afraid of.”
Jameela gave a derisive snort, and slammed her thermos down onto the blue coloured plastic of the table top.
“Girl, please. Your arrogance is incredibly unattractive – you’re not a star yet. And if you keep acting like a snob, you probably won’t be – when you’re up against people just as talented as you, you’ll be chosen not only based on talent, but on how much of a bitch you are.”
The silence was punctuated with a barely smothered giggle from Mercedes and an affronted gasp.
“But anyway – Jameela. Just think about joining Glee, okay? Please, for me?” Kurt continued, giving her the puppy dog eyes. “Then you’ll see how amazing I am at everything.”
“No Kurt, I will no—Why is Puckerman grinning at me like that?”
Jameela had looked up to see where Matt had got to, only to see Noah grinning smugly at her from across the canteen. Noticing her eyes turned his way, Puck gave a wink. Matt, who was sitting beside the left tackle, gave Jameela a grin and the thumbs up.
Oh that little shit.
“I am going to kill Matthew Rutherford.”
“Not really, Jameela.”
“Really? I think it’s kind of… Refreshing.”
“Jesus Christ, you sound like Sue.”
Jameela tilted her head to the side, eyebrow quirked.
“Sue? Who is this Sue?”
Matt sighed as they walked towards Jameela’s locker.
“The coach of the Cheerios –” Spying the blank look on Jameela’s face, he verified: “They’re the cheerleading squad. She’s crazy mean, crazy aggressive and just straight up crazy. If she were president, the rest of the world woulda been ‘nuked ages ago. She really hates Glee club and Mr. Shue. Y’know, you should really join Glee.”
“We talked about this yesterday, Matthew. I ain’t joinin’ Glee club.” Jameela retorted, stopping in front of her locker. She twiddled the dial between her thumb and forefinger, and slammed the door open. The binder in her arms went in, and a few books came out, which she promptly slipped into her bag. Shutting it, she leant back against it, tipping her head back.
“I am not a show tunes kind of gal – you of all people should know that.” Jameela added, lifting her head to glower at Matt.
Matt gave an exasperated sigh, his eyes drifting upwards, as though asking some greater power to give him strength.
“We don’t sing only show tunes. Hell, we hardly ever sing ‘em. Rachel and Kurt are the only ones who belt them on a regular basis.”
“But still. I don’t do show choir. Or singing in general. Instruments, I’m fine with. But not singing. Not for people, anyways.”
Matt sighed again, rolling his eyes.
“Okay, whatevs. Look, I gotta go finish my Bio homework – it was due in yesterday.”
“Naughty naughty!” Jameela proclaimed, shaking her slim index finger at him.
“Shut up. See you at lunch.” He added.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’mma hang here and get my money outta Puckerman,” Jameela rubbed her hands together, grinning.
Matt laughed.
“Have fun with that, midget.” And with that, he turned and strode off, books tucked under his arm. Jameela watched him go, arms folded across her chest as she settled back to wait for Noah.
“Midget? I ain’t no midget.”
She pulled her head phones over her ears and switched her iPod back on, scrolling through her endless lists of songs. Selecting one, she dropped it back into her pocket and tipped her head back again. She didn’t get to finish the damn song, though.
Along came Kurt, looking more cheery than should be possible in the morning. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a beauty salon or some fucking fashion magazine.
“Good morning Lala.” He said, smiling at her, a binder in his manicured hands.
Jameela focused on turning off her iPod so she wouldn’t snap at him. The nickname shit was starting to wear thin. Kurt didn’t seem to realize it was time to knock it on the fuckin’ head. She’d never been fond of nicknames – not even when her mother used to call her Jam Tart. And yet she had acquired two new names in the previous twenty-four hours. Sure, Kurt was that totally adorable gay guy who made the nickname thing almost cute, but she still had the strong urge to shout at him. And Puck… He may have a nice bod, but his hair was stupid and so was he.
After several moments of silence, it became clear to Kurt that Jameela was not going to reply to his greeting.
“The silent treatment, huh?”
“I was just trying to decide the best way to kill you, Hummel.” Jameela replied, baring her teeth in a snarly little grin.
Kurt faked a laugh.
“Very droll… Okay, kind of creepy now.” Kurt muttered.
Jameela’s snarl turned into a proper smile.
“That is what I was aiming for. Have you seen Puckerman?” She continued, fiddling with the wire of her headphones absently.
Kurt’s delicately sculpted eyebrow shifted, scaling up his pale forehead.
“Interested in him, are you?” Kurt asked, his voice taking on a tone Jameela did not care for.
“Jesus Christ Kurt, don’t be so fuckin’ stupid. That little bitch owes me money.” Jameela grumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “I do have some standards. What made you think that, anyway? Has someone been running their mouth about me already?”
“No. It’s just that when girls talk to Puck, they usually don’t do it for the conversation.” Kurt replied smoothly, completely ignoring Jameela’s rudeness.
“Yeah well, I ain’t that kind of girl.” Jameela replied, frowning.
“Good to know. I’ll see you in English, Lala.” Kurt announced, taking his leave all of a sudden in a flurry of expensive coat and leather shoulder bag.
“I like the outfit, by the way. Tré chic! Not sure about the boots, though.” He called over his shoulders waving his fingers briefly.
“What have people got against the boots? Honestly.”
Jameela flipped him the bird, slumping back when he was out of sight.
“This being nice to people shit is hard.”
“Tell me about it.”
Jameela jerked lightly, her hands curling into fists of their own accord. She was prone to attacking when she got startled – reflexes like that happened when you went to juvie. She had begun trying to combat the habit, so Puckerman was lucky to avoid a hook in the mouth.
“Shit Puckerman, don’t sneak up on me like that.” Jameela muttered, lowering her hands, her fists unbunching.
Puck chuckled, twisting his combo on the dial and pulling open his locker.
“You should’ve seen the look on your face.” He said, slamming his locker shut and grinning at her. “What ya waitin’ for, anyway? Me?”
Jameela faked a smile, pushing off her locker.
“Actually, Puckerman, I am waiting for you,” She said in a falsely sweet voice, fluttering her lashes at him. Puck’s grin grew wider and smugger, his eyes shining slightly. Jameela’s fake sweetness dissipated abruptly, and her scowl became darker. “I want my money, Noah.”
“Don’t call me Noah.”
“Awww, doesn’t wittle Noah wike it when big meanie Jameewa picks on him?” Jameela mocked, her scowl transforming into a vindictive grin. Noah growled a string of curses and stalked down the corridor. Jameela jogged to catch up, the heavy soles of her combat boots thudding on the lino.
“That’s not nice language, wittle Noah,” Jameela retorted, her joking manner dropping once more. She was like a dog with a bone when it came to cash. “Now give me my money.”
“Christ, you’re kind of a massive bitch.” Noah muttered, tucking a thumb under the strap of his bag.
“No shit, Puckerman.” Jameela replied shrugging one shoulder casually. The corridors were starting to empty now – the first warning bell had already rung, and classes were on the brink of starting for the day. Classroom doors were closing and lessons were being written up on whiteboards.
“Hey!” A gruff voice rang out behind the pair. “Tora!”
Jameela turned, her hands bunching into fists. When someone sounded that pissed, they were usually looking for a fight. She was greeted with the sight of an unpleasantly doughy face – Cranston.
“What?” Jameela growled, her heckles up, her fists rising slightly as she eyed Cranston. He was holding a large plastic cup, filled with some purple churned up ice. A demonic look was painted on his face, his teeth bared, his eyes wide.
“What the f--” Jameela was cut off as Cranston snapped his arm back, and hurled his slushy into her face.
Wasn’t expecting that.
Jameela gasped for air as the freezing purple sludge dripped down her face, slithering over her monochromatically striped shirt. She stood silent, frozen by her anger. Cranston laughed, as did the handful of jock friends that backed him.
“That’s what you get when you mess with the man, hoe.” He said, smirking at her.
“You. Little. Bastard!” Jameela managed, her hands shaking slightly as her rage began to thaw. Her voice sounded like a growl – a snarl of pure anger, almost animalistic. Her hands lifted slowly to clear her eyes, flicking away the plum-coloured substance. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
And with that, she launched herself at Cranston, her fist connecting with his eye. He sprawled back, nearly knocking over some of his friends. She lunged again, but was halted by two arms that wrapped around her waist from behind, lifting her off the ground and pulling her away.
“Puck! Fuckin’ let me go so I can strangle that fat bastard!” She screeched, her hands clawing at Puck’s bared forearms, her nails scrabbling against his smooth skin.
“Not a chance, Marley.” Puck growled in reply, swinging her around and dragging her down the hall.
“You better watch your back, Cranston! I’ll get you, don’t you fuckin’ worry! I’ll get you good!” She shouted, trying to twist around in Noah’s tight hold.
“I’m sure you will,” Puck murmured, carrying the struggling girl down the corridor, much to the amusement of Matt, who’d just left the library, books under his arm, when Puck and Jameela passed.
“Hey Puck,” He greeted casually as they passed, as though he’d seen it all before.
“Matt,” Puck replied curtly, inclining his head in a slight nod.
“Up yours, Rutherford.”
Matt laughed as Jameela gestured rudely at him, and headed off in the opposite direction, whistling between the slight gap in his front teeth.
“Bastard,” Jameela muttered, turning as far as Puck’s grip would allow, to glare at his retreating figure. “And to think I used to share my snack-pack with him.”
Puck snorted, rolling his eyes. What was this girl, bi-polar? One second she was ready to tear someone’s throat out, the next she was getting all nostalgic about Matthew effin’ Rutherford.
“Puckerman, this has been fun and all, but are you going to put me down anytime soon?” Jameela grumbled.
“You chill?”
“Like a fuckin’ iceberg. Just put me down, Jesus Christ.”
And with that, Noah dropped her onto the lino. Jameela stumbled slightly as she landed then straightened, eyeing her shirt with a look of distaste.
“My ma is gonna kill me,” She groaned, plucking ineffectually at the purple-stained cloth, as though she expected the marks to magically disappear.
Puck laughed. “Oh, big badass is scared of her mommy.” He mocked.
“Fuck you, Puckerman. You’d be scared of my ma too.” Came her harsh reply.
Noah rolled his eyes, though secretly, he agreed with her. Her mother was probably a bajillion times scarier than Jameela, and probably pretty hot as well, if her daughter was anything to go by. Pushing that thought from his mind, he looked back to Jameela, who was groaning incoherent curses as she tried to wring out the corner of her shirt.
“C’mon. Go to the nurse. She washes shit for people who get slushied now… Mainly because she got sick of Rachel screaming her head off all the time.” Puck laughed lightly.
“That is understandable. Good-bye, Puckerman.” Jameela growled and stalked off, hands bunched into fists.
“You’re going the wrong way, you realize?” Puck called after her. He watched, grinning a little as she swore under her breath and turned on her heel, stalking back towards him.
“I knew that,” She muttered as she passed. That was a lie of course, and an obvious one at
that. “I was just testing you.”
“Yeah, sure you were.” Puck rolled his eyes, and jogged to catch up with her.
“Shut it, Puckerman.”
That was it for the entire walk. No ‘thanks for stopping me from beating the shit out of him and getting in trouble’ or ‘you know what Noah, you’re actually a nice guy’ from her. Not that he’d really been expecting it… But still, a thank you would have been nice. But he didn’t guess he was going to get one, not from this girl.
When you were that badass, you didn’t say please.
~
“Okay Jameela baby, do you have a shirt to wear while this one is getting washed?” The plump nurse’s voice was sassy – she didn’t sound like she took any prisoners. “Because we can’t have you going around shirtless, can we? You might get a cold.” She let out a little giggle, and Jameela’s eyebrow climbed even higher up her face. What the hell was this lady on?
“I wouldn’t mind it,” Noah muttered, leaning against the wall, smirking slightly. He was pretty buddy-buddy with Ruth, the school nurse. He’d cut enough classes to come and sleep in her office that they were on first name terms.
“Hush you. I hope this wasn’t your handiwork,” Ruth continued, her voice taking on a disapproving tone as she gestured to Jameela, who was perched on the edge of the bed, looking like she wanted to scream and throw something.
Noah held up his hands, protesting his innocence.
“No way, Ruth. I started with the man in the mirror, and I changed my ways.” He replied, grinning. He caught sight of Jameela rolling her eyes – obviously, she’d caught the reference. And obviously, she didn’t approve. The middle finger she raised in his direction was some indication to her level of disapproval. The finger disappeared as soon as Ruth turned, replaced by a puppy dog face.
“So dear, where was I... Oh right. Do you have a spare shirt to wear?” Ruth clucked, bustling over to the medicine cupboard, in which she’d been stacking fresh bandages before the pair’s arrival. Jameela shook her head.
“We don’t have gym today, so I don’t have anything spare. Isn’t there anything spare here?” Jameela asked, her words tinged with worry. This was not a good second day, no sir. Not a good second day at all.
Puck wasn’t making anything better, either. He was trying not to laugh, making a little choking noise. Fuck, she wanted to punch him.
“There’s a boy... Lord, I forget his name. Glasses, ginger... Kind of.... Kind of a white afro –”
“Jacob?” Puck supplied, apparently recovered from his attack of mirth.
“Oh that’s him. He gets slushied more than the whole of Glee put together... And he never seems to return the clothes. Lord knows what he does with them.”
Jameela snorted and spluttered, as did Noah. They knew exactly what Jacob did with the clothes – seeing as Rachel’s dads had donated a whole heap of their family’s old things.
“But no, no spare clothes.”
“Shit,” Jameela hissed. “Today really ain’t my day.”
She cradled her face in her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp. She had her dreads tied back today – in a bun, twisted up and tied with a thick rope of hair. Around her head, like a hairband, she’d tied a red bandanna. That combined with the turquoise skull on a chain, the bleach-pale jeans, the leather cuffs and the large skull ring, along with the heavy soled military boots made a pretty hot outfit, Puck noted, despite the lack of flesh shown. Damn, did she have nice legs, as those tight jeans so kindly displayed. And a great ass. Shit. What he wouldn’t give to –
“You can have my shirt, Marley.”
Jameela’s head shot up, her brows pulling together in a confused little frown. “What?”
“My shirt. You can have it.” Puck said again, unbuttoning the blue plaid shirt he wore. Underneath was a plain white shirt, like the one he’d been wearing yesterday. “At least, for today.”
“Noah! That’s so kind of you. Now ain’t that a gentleman?” Ruth said, taking the shirt from the youth and folding it over her arm for a moment, smoothing any wrinkles that may have formed in the second that it hadn’t had a wearer. “You’d do good to stick with this boy, honey. A girl like you could keep him in line.”
“Wait, what? You think – oh, no. Hell no. I’ve been here a day and you think I’ve already hooked this wannabe pimp as my man? No thank you.” Jameela replied tartly, snatching the shirt from the chocolate-skinned nurse, and stalking into the adjoining bathroom. Gripping the sink, she stared at her slushy stained face in the mirror – what the hell was happening to her? She didn’t know. Sighing, she began to scrub her face with handfuls of coldwater.
Noah watched her slam the door with a raised eyebrow. Wooo, touchy. He didn’t think being Noah Puckerman’s girlfriend was such a bad thing. There were a hundred girls in this school that would give anything to be Puckzillia’s woman, and to ride little Puck. Sheesh, Jameela needed to chill. Her hotness level was totally lowered when she took shit so seriously. Ruth gave a little ‘humph’ and strutted out of the room.
Jameela reappeared several minutes later, primped and preened. Her soggy shirt was scrunched in one hand, her torso now covered with Noah’s button up. It all but swamped her – she may have had pretty broad shoulders for a girl, but it was nothing on the Puckerone. It was actually a pretty good look on her – Puck knew it’d be better if she wasn’t wearing anything underneath but hey, he wasn’t complaining. He had never been happier that the top button had been lost in the wash some weeks ago, and he hadn’t found it again – he could make out the colour of her bra along as getting a good eyeful of her cleavage. Pretty decent, in fact – not as ample as Santana’s, but Jameela’s weren’t suffused with silicone. At least, Noah didn’t think they were. And as the boob connoisseur he was, he knew he was right.
“Nice look, babes.”
“Fuck up, Puckerman.”
“That’s not very nice,” Noah noted, as she stalked past him. “I could just take the shirt back, you know. And what would happen then?”
“I’d fuckin’ strangle you with it, that’s what’d happen.” She replied as Ruth reappeared.
“Aw honey, you look fine. Here, gimme that, and I’ll wash it for you.” She took Jameela’s stained shirt and handed her a note. “A late slip – for your teacher. Come and see me at the beginning of third period, I’ll have your shirt cleaned for you.”
Jameela muttered a hurried thank you, then high-tailed it the fuck outta there. On her way out, she caught sight of a familiar face – looked like the hard man needed some ice for his boo-boo. Awww.
“Cranston you pussy.” Jameela hissed as she passed, shouldering him as she passed, and went out into the hall. The heavy tread behind her told that Puckerman was indeed following her.
“Shouldn’t you be going to class, Fuck?”
“Meh. This is more fun.”
“Not as educational, though. And bro, you need all the education you can get.” Jameela did not turn her head to look at him – she concentrated on walking at an even pace.
“Oh, that’s harsh. So I’m not even going to get a thank you?”
“Nope,” Jameela replied, popping the P like an asshole. She knew she should probably be nicer to Puck – he’d been pretty good towards her, with the whole scenario. But she didn’t care – it was probably just a ruse to get some. She’d known guys like him before; hell, her brother had been one, before he’d gotten whip— married. Yeah, married. Whipped just put way too many dominatrix images in her head, after what her brother said last time. Ugh.
“Real nice.”
“Yup.” Another P pop. Damn, she was getting good at this. “Well this has been fun, but I should really go. Bye, Puckerman.”
But before Jameela could reach for the handle of the class door, a large hand gripped her upper arm, swinging her into the lockers. A second later, a hard body was pressed to hers, trapping her against the cool wall of metal.
“You know, you could always say thank you in another way.” Puck’s breath played against the skin of her cheek, warm and slightly damp. She felt heat curl up the back of her neck, but she kept a straight face, her hand sliding up to his steely pectorals.
“I’m good, actually. I think I’ll stick to verbal expressions of gratitude.” She pushed against Noah’s chest, but he refused to move. She heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes before giving in.
“Thank you, Puckerman. For the shirt—” A pointed look from the Jewish boy prompted her to continue. “And for keeping me from injuring your teammate. Let me go.”
Puck stepped away, grinning.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He taunted, sliding a hand over his ‘hawk.
“Shut up. That’s the last time you manhandle me, ca pice?” Jameela retorted, jabbing a finger at him. Seriously, did he not hear her first warning? She thought she made the whole ‘hands off’ thing pretty bloody clear.
When the left tackle said nothing in reply, Jameela cursed and shouldered him out of the way, stepping back to open the door. She spared Puck a glance over her shoulder as she entered the class and the door swung closed. Eyes connected for a moment – chocolate locking with caramel. But the bond was broken as soon as it was gained – Jameela’s head snapped back at the sound of her teacher’s croaky voice.
“You do realize that you are fifteen minutes late? Fifteen!”
“Yes sir – I have a note.” Jameela replied tiredly, handing the elder man the scrap of paper before heading to her seat. Once again, every eye followed her. As soon as she sat, Kurt leant over the aisle.
“That’s not the shirt you were wearing earlier – what happened? Why are you late? Isn’t that Puck’s shirt?” He shot questions at the dread-locked girl, who cupped her face in her hands.
“I’ll explain later, okay? Just shut up for five seconds.”
Kurt gave a huffy ‘fine’ and sat back, impatiently waiting out the rest of the class.
~
“So after Cranston slushied you, you tried to punch him – and Puck stopped you? Picked you up? And gave you his shirt?”
“That is what I said, Kurt.”
“He has very nice arms, doesn’t he?”
“I’ve felt better.”
“I bet you still enjoyed it.”
Kurt hung off Jameela’s arm as they walked through the busy corridor, heading for the cafeteria. Kurt had accosted her straight after World History – he’d been waiting outside when the bell rang; hungry for details. He’d looped his arm through his and ordered her to tell him, tossing his head indignantly – he believed he’d been more than patient enough. Jameela had grudgingly explained what had happened, leaving out their final confrontation – it seemed strangely private, and she didn’t want to give Kurt anything to get excited about.
She’d only worn Puck’s shirt for two periods, and yet, people were already whispering shit behind her back.
“Shut up.”
“So you’re not denying it, then?”
“I don’t feel I should have to deny it – It should be obvious how I feel.”
“Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean you can’t admire a nice body when you see one – or in your case, feel one.”
“Shut up.”
Jameela had brought her own lunch today – they did not stop in line for food, but instead made a beeline for the table they had been seated at the previous day. The rest of the group was already there – today with the addition of Matt - watching for Kurt and his taller companion.
“Kurt! Jameela! There you are! We’ve been waiting to hear what happened!” That was Tina’s excited exclamation as she leant across the table. The others added their nods of approval, and Finn asked in a confused voice whether the shirt slung across Jameela’s bag was indeed Puck’s.
“Yes Finn, it is.” She sighed resignedly as she settled herself next to Mercedes, digging for her thermos in her bag.
“Girl, what the hell happened? You didn’t--”
“No,” Jameela countered, before Mercedes could ask. “I got slushied, okay? By that ugly fuck Cranston. Puck stopped me from beating Cranston’s face in, and gave me his shirt to wear while mine was getting washed – that ginger creep had taken all the spare clothes.”
Her admission was greeted with a round of laughter and smug looks.
“Welcome to the club,” Rachel said. Her prissy tone was almost superior, and it made
Jameela want to toss her leftover noodle soup in the girl’s face. “We’ve all been slushied by various members of the football team – even Finn.”
“What? Why all of you?”
“Because we’re Glee clubbers. It’s part and parcel with being a member.” Rachel continued, tossing her thick hair contemptuously. “They are just jealous of my—our amazing talent.”
“I’m actually surprised you lasted this long without a slushy facial,” Mercedes interjected. “Most new kids get done on the first day – usually more than once.”
“It’s because I’m from Jane Addam’s. I have a rep – most of those jocks were shittin’ their pants when I punched Cranston – they were scared they were next.”
Matt snorted, and Jameela punched him in the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Matt whined, cupping his injured bicep with his other hand. He stood up a moment later, tossing his head haughtily. “That’s it Jameela, I’m leaving.”
“’kay. Bye, Matt.” Jameela replied, not looking up as she dug her spork into the lukewarm noodley water. Matt gave another indignant head toss.
“Don’t pretend you don’t care,” He exclaimed, slinging his bag over his shoulder, picking up his brown paper bag and struck a pose.
"Don’t worry, I won’t. Give Puck his shirt, will ya?” Jameela asked, tossing the bundle of blue fabric at her dramatic friend.
“And your love too, I suppose?”
“I will neuter you if you so much as think about doing that, okay?”
Matt didn’t reply, but stalked away, swishing his ass in an attempt at a runway walk. Jameela snorted into her soup while Mike wolf-whistled.
“Jameela girl, you should join Glee club – seeing as you’re gettin’ slushied, you might as well have a reason to be.”
Jameela looked up from her soup to lock eyes with Mercedes, one delicately shaped eyebrow arched.
“I’m not really a show choir kind of girl, thanks. Matt’s already suggested it to me – I’m not a singer.” She told the other black girl, digging at her soup, not really hungry for it.
“You don’t have to be. I’m not.”
“Yeah well Chang, I’ve heard you dance like a pimp,” Jameela retorted slyly, a statement which made the Asian boy grin.
“That has been said – but seriously. We Glee clubbers, we’re like a family, as corny as it sounds. Going to McKinley high, you need one.”
“I’m fine. Seriously. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”
“Leave her alone, guys.” Rachel chided, reaching across the table to pat the back of Jameela’s hand in what she seemed to think was a nice way. “She’s obviously intimidated. Don’t worry, Jameela. My talent is nothing to be afraid of.”
Jameela gave a derisive snort, and slammed her thermos down onto the blue coloured plastic of the table top.
“Girl, please. Your arrogance is incredibly unattractive – you’re not a star yet. And if you keep acting like a snob, you probably won’t be – when you’re up against people just as talented as you, you’ll be chosen not only based on talent, but on how much of a bitch you are.”
The silence was punctuated with a barely smothered giggle from Mercedes and an affronted gasp.
“But anyway – Jameela. Just think about joining Glee, okay? Please, for me?” Kurt continued, giving her the puppy dog eyes. “Then you’ll see how amazing I am at everything.”
“No Kurt, I will no—Why is Puckerman grinning at me like that?”
Jameela had looked up to see where Matt had got to, only to see Noah grinning smugly at her from across the canteen. Noticing her eyes turned his way, Puck gave a wink. Matt, who was sitting beside the left tackle, gave Jameela a grin and the thumbs up.
Oh that little shit.
“I am going to kill Matthew Rutherford.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Oh hey look, another update... It's only been what? Two months? heheh... I doubt I'm even gonna have readers anymore, lolol. But look! It's a looooong update -- like, 4000+ words! Sure it rambles and it doesn't really make sense, but who cares, right?So, I watched the Glee finale - OMGLOLPUCKPLAYSTHEACCORDIAN. I had a little spazz. xD Faaark yeeeeh.
Aren't we gad Scotty won idol? I stopped watching after Jacob got eliminated -- but I did watch the finale. OMGGLADYSKNIGHT. I was so excited I nearly cried, no joke. And when Tom Jones appeared, I was so ready for Carlton to be with him. AND SHEILA E. OMG. She is like, the most intense drummer ever. My mum didn't think it was her, and I laughed in her face when it was. I wanted Prince to be there D: But Stefano was so fuckin' epic when he sung Kiss. <3 *jiiiizzzzz*
Bahaha.
It's 19 days. And it'll be two years. I'm going to be crying so hard -- if you know what I'm talking about, I love you.
Oh, and in the next few chapters, we should begin to see more of Jameela's life and shit. And yeh.
*strokes beard*
I'm sure there was something important I should be telling you guys... But I can't seem to remember... shit. D:
Comments are love. <3
Well, say hi to your mum for me.
EDIT;
OHYEHIREMEMBER.
Check this out, will you.
And tell me what you think? <3
EDIT #2;
Oh yeah, and my writers block is a bitch.
I even made this in an attempt to combat said block.
Its a mild approximation of what I visualized Jameela's outfit to look like.
Yay for expensive things on Polyvore.