Fanfiction written around Season 3 of the TV show, Glee.
Story revolves in an alternate reality of Quinn Fabray meeting her Mr Right in a form of a bright, young, temperamental billionaire who is in search of his younger brother.
Things get a bit mo...
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I check myself at the mirror before I leave.
It's a force of habit. My entire life, I've been living out of everyone's expectations. It was two years ago when my life was perfect. I was Captain of the Cheerios, I had the star quarterback as my boyfriend though he wasn't the brightest bulb in Ohio, I downplayed the ultimate girl-next-door by joining the Celibacy Club. I was literally on top of the world.
Then I just had to get pregnant.
My boyfriend wasn't the father, his then-best friend was.
Because of my predicament, I was forced out of my beloved Cheerios uniform.
I joined Glee Club and had to listen to Rachel Berry whine and moan about how much she deserved her solos. Though granted she's talented, she still annoys the hell out of me.
Especially now that Finn chose her over me.
I mean, seriously what's wrong with the world these days? It's like suddenly the universe does a 360 degree Linda Blair and suddenly the geeks inherited the earth. If I could have a Do-Over Year this could have been the best time to ask for it.
I'm quoting clichés, great. I check the mirror again and find that my dark mascara is still perfectly applied. My lips are well glossed, as it helps keep away from the nicotine stains. It isn't anything out of the ordinary though lately I've noticed myself to be wearing a lot more black outfits and have dark pink hair.
It's a phase I'm going through. I just got dumped and took it out on my hair. Perfect female behavior, I rationalized to my then hysterical mother. My mom is such a drama queen. Since Dad left her for a younger tattooed encrusted woman, I'm all she ever obsesses about when she's sober. That was until my sister suffered a mental breakdown after she broke her engagement when she found out her beloved fiancée was a closeted bisexual. Lately she's been bunking around the homestead so fortunately for me, I've been out of Mom's radar.
But that doesn't mean I'm out of the woods yet. In a few days, I'll be back in the walls of McKinley High once again and I'm sure everyone is dying to find out whatever happened to Quinn Fabray after being dumped by the school's football hero for a Barbara Streisand deadringer. Picking on the school's gossip radar, I'm sure I'll be the one topic on people's mouths.
Though this year, I'm making a few changes.
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I've decided not to return to Glee Club. Come on, I almost did try and sabotage the Regionals when I went A-wall in New York. Though I harbor no ill feelings towards other Glee members, the mere thought of hanging around just now seems pointless.
These days, I'm doing a Madonna and reinventing myself. The pink hair, the Ryan Seacrest tramp stamp tattoo and punk Material Girl-esque outfits are just the beginning. I head out and take my car and drive myself uptown to meet up with my new found friends. Since post-Regionals, I've found myself hanging with Sheila and and a group of meanest, nastiest girls in McKinley. They call themselves the Skanks. Santana has lost her edge, as to what reason I could honestly care less and I really don't think I want to know either; I do miss having a minion. Brittany, on the other hand, has an IQ lower than that of a common flea. Sheila is the manipulative, don't-mess-with-me sort that combined with the angst of a sophomore, adds to the perfect right hand man.
"Hey bitch!" Sheila waves her hand as I make my way to school and go under our usual spot underneath the bleachers to smoke. We rule in and out of school grounds.
I take a long exhale and pretend to look bored. I scan along the sea of familiar faces hurrying inside the school building and shrug when no one catches my interest. As much of a loser town Lima can be, nothing out of the ordinary ever happens. Even the local townies are the same old people I ran into since I was in diapers. I also pretend to listen to Mack go on about her typical day. A whiny, angry girl who makes out with almost anyone is the perfect diversion to let everyone know how interesting our lives and care less about anything. In reality, for me to care less about anything makes me feel numb.
