The Evolution of Reese Lavek ♔ GLEE S1

3 - She Can Sing

I liked to skateboard through the hallways, despite all of the faculty trying to stop me. Besides, I didn't see what the big deal was; four years ago, we had a psycho-pyromaniac who loved to zip through the hallways on his mountain bike. Come on, compared to him, I was driving Miss Daisy.

Some people tended to disagree. For example, Coach Sylvester. You've watched 101 Dalmations, right? Well, turns out there is a person who's 10 times scarier than Cruella de Ville, except she has the same first name as a little flower of the South, and the last name of an idiotic four-foot-tall cartoon cat who I like to think is a pedophile under a fur pelt. Come on, he just happens to go after the same little bird with little to no adequate genitalia and talks like he's sucked up half a tank of helium; you do the math.

Another even funnier example would be Principal Figgins; the rounder, stupider, more Indian version of Christoff the producer from The Truman Show. Really though, the only difference between Figgins and Christoff is that Chris knew how to keep his scam in order. Figgins couldn't even order a full course meal without asking to see the menu twice over after being asked what he wanted to drink. I know first hand.

Anyway, as I skated down the halls, approaching Figgins, I caught the sight of a jock with a green slushy in his hand. Here's a fun fact for y'all: I, Reese Tiegan Lavek, have never been slushied by anybody and never will be slushied by anybody. Why? Because I have a secret weapon: my psychic foster child third eye. That, and being really good at dodgeball helps a hella lot.

"Hey, Lavio! Happy early Birthday!" just as the jock threw the slushy, I ducked under Figgins' raised arm, and the slushy splattered all over him. The jock suddenly took on the same expression that Figgins had: utter shock. Meanwhile, I chuckled maniacally at the show brought before me.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, well done, Juan," I patted him on the shoulder, "By the way, it's Lavek. For future reference of course," Then I skated away, feeling the glorious wave of triumph in my veins. The dumbass would probably get suspended, and slushies would no longer be allowed on school property.

Hah! Who am I trying to kid?

Further down, there stood Rachel Berry, seeming to get into an argument with Mr. S from Spanish class. I heard this guy used to be a part of the glee club back in seventy-something. I don't remember; mostly because I don't care. I didn't hear the entirety of the conversation, but I managed to catch wind of this:

"I have news for you, Rachel. Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. We're doing the assembly, and you're not putting up those flyers," he started to walk in my direction, "Everybody loves disco!" he exclaimed.

"No we don't," I blurted as I whizzed by. Mr. S had a dumbfounded look on his face, but he rolled his eyes and continued to walk away. I had the same idea, except I was skating.

"Reese!" or maybe not.

I stopped with a sudden skid and turned around, putting on my best bitchy smile, "Yes, Barbra?"

She looked at me with an expression that could only be described as the look of desperation, "Mr. Schue is making us sing this awful disco song in front of the whole school-"

"Ah ha! Just adding to my list of reasons as to why I won't be joining glee club," I started to roll away, but she jumped in front of me, stamping down on the front plank of my board.

"Will you take this seriously?" I looked at her with bewilderment. Nobody stepped on my board, especially not people like her. Not unless they had a death wish.

"If we perform this song, my life will be over, officially! We will be the laughing stock of the entire school, and poor Finn-"

"Wait," I stopped her right there, "Finn? Finn Hudson?" I asked.