Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf

As I stormed through the hallways after school, I looked everywhere for Puck with adrenaline coursing through my veins. How the fuck could he have done something so incredibly vile to me? Cheating on me? And with Santana, no less. Visions flashed through my mind more quickly than I could comprehend them, dreaming up different ways of making Puck suffer for what he’d done.

But when I finally found him, leaning up against his locker with a smile on his face as he talked to Mike Chang, I lost it. All sane trains of thought had packed their bags and evacuated, leaving trails of severe fury in their wake.

My pace quickened as I approached Puck, but everything seemed to move in slow motion. The falling of his face when he realized that I was not happy. Me drawing my hand back and popping him in the face. The look of surprise, shock, and humor on Mike’s face.

“I hate you,” I spat, brushing my hair out of my face too fiercely, causing me to rip a couple of strands out. “I hate you so fucking much, and don’t ever talk to me again, you douchebag.”

“What are you talking about?” he questioned. He had the nerve to ask me why I was angry? It killed me inside, knowing that he didn’t have any qualms about what he’d done. I bet he’d slept with Santana more than once over the course of the summer, with me not giving it up to him like I’d promised and all.

“I’m talking about you going back to Santana while I was busy this summer.” I looked up to find that Mike Chang had fled, which was probably the smart thing to do. “And you know what? You’re such an asshole, you deserve her. We’re through.”

A look of recognition and horror crossed his face as I stormed away. To top off how much I hated him, he screamed after me, “SANTANA’S LYING! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

No matter what he said, it didn’t matter. His face had given him away, anyway. And there was no way that I was going to go back to him after he’d done something like that to me. I was no lovesick girl. I’d recover.

At least, that was what I told myself as I stormed along the sidewalks on the way back home, trying to burn off some of my anger. Soon enough, I missed the anger, the empowerment that it gave me. As the fury disappeared, it was leaving hurt and betrayal, which stung like a bitch.

What kind of bastard cheated on his girlfriend just because she was busy? Just because she couldn’t spend every second of the day with him? Sorry that I was having family issues and couldn’t give him enough attention. God forbid.

Closing my eyes for a second, I took a breath to try to relax my racing thoughts. A slow smile spread across my face as I realized that the first meeting for Glee Club was that Thursday, only two days away.

Puck was going to regret that he’d ever done anything to me.

All that night, he sent me these random texts, trying to assure me that he didn’t do anything. Some girls would have fallen for that, due to his pestering persistence, but not me. It just made me angrier. So not only did he sleep with Santana…but he was lying about it? He was completely immature; didn’t he realize that adults have to accept when they make mistakes to try to make everything better?

That lesson seemed completely lost on him.

At dinner, Aileen noticed my inner turmoil. At first, I thought she was eerily perceptive, but then I realized that I was killing each piece of broccoli, imagining that it was Puck’s face.

“You alright? Did something happen at school?”

“Oh, no,” I snapped sarcastically. Stab. “Everything’s just peachy keen.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Hm? Well, your poor broccoli’s getting massacred.”

Biting my lip, I laid my fork down on my plate and sat back. I was just going to enlighten her. Isn’t that was sisters were for, after all?

So I told her the entire story, starting last year, making sure that I made completely clear how much Santana and I butted heads.

“And he’s still texting me, trying to say that he’s innocent, when I know he’s not. It’s a totally Puck move, a dick move, and he still won’t take responsibility. I would hate him if he cheated, but at least I would respect the fact that he apologized.”

“Well, it sounds like Puck changed a lot for you. And that Santana would do anything to get under your skin.” Thoughtfully, she popped a small piece of steak into her mouth. “Did you ever think that she’s just trying to play you again?”

“It would be a possibility if I didn’t see the look on his face. The whole deer-in-headlights thing…like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.” Stab stab stab. My poor food was definitely paying the price for Puck’s crime.

In the silent moment as Aileen debated what to say next, my phone went off once again. Opening the text showed another ‘But, Ellie, I’m innocent!’ text, so I chucked my phone into the other room, laughing as it hit off the wall.

“Throw it around all you want,” Aileen shrugged. “As long as you don’t break it. I’m not sure the phone company covers bad breakups.”

“They should,” I snickered, finishing off my food. Once my plate was cleared, I washed the dishes and went upstairs, wondering if anyone had seen me punch Puck.

‘Cause if they had…his badass status was so down the drain.

* * *

“RED!” Puck yelled from behind me, getting fed up with my silent act. Though he really shouldn’t have blamed me, since he was a total douche.

But him referring to me as my old nickname just about made me snap. “Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That. I swear, I will tear off your penis if you call me anything but Ellie again.”

He winced, probably imagining the bucket-loads of pain that would cause. “Then why don’t you listen to me? I’m telling you that nothing happened.”

“I’m not listening to you because every time you say that, your eyes say otherwise.” I shook my head, muttering, “Pathetic,” as I shoved past him into the mass of students. More than anything, I wanted to get lost in them, not having to face the reality of what had happened.

In chemistry, even Santana wasn’t stupid enough to say a word to me. My face seemed permanently fixed into a mask that seemed to convey coolness and intense, extreme anger at the same time. Every attempt that my teacher made at making a funny science joke made me grip my pencil tighter, keeping myself from chucking it across the room.

At lunch, I sat with Kurt, pretending to listen to him prattle on about something or other, while not touching my sandwich in front of me.

“And then, these Martians came out of their space ship, begging me to join them and be their leader. The only catch was that I’d have to dye my skin green, which is so not my color.”

“Mhm,” I urged, poking my sandwich and watching the bread mold almost back into shape, a slight dent where my finger had penetrated it.

As laughter filled the table, I finally looked up to find Kurt giving me a slightly worried look. “What?” I snapped.

“There’s something serious going on right now. Spill.”

My eyebrow raised as the news sunk in that they didn’t know before going into the whole ordeal, pounding my sandwich repeatedly to keep from making my tone too sharp with my friends, the people who just wanted to help me.

By the time I was done, I might as well have been sitting in front of a pancake. The food in my life didn’t stand a chance.

And neither would Puck, after I sang my song to him.