The Shrew
A/N: Just an idea of what Kat must have been thinking all the way through. My 1st fanfic, so please be kind and review!
Disclaimer: I don't own 10 Things I Hate About You, or any of the characters. Wish I owned Heath, though.
Chapter One
I Don't Give A Damn 'Bout My Reputation
Another day, another morning.
I pull up in my car at the traffic lights, drowning out the cheesy pop-rap of the tarts in the car next to me with my own - far better - music. They roll their eyes at me when they think I'm not looking, but they're too scared to do anything else.
After all, I'm Kat Stratford, and I'm scary.
I get to school. Padua High - don'tcha just hate it? I'll be so glad when I graduate. Then it's to Sarah Lawrence - if they've accepted me, and if my dad'll let me go. I haven't actually told him yet.
I pull down a poster for the prom with the disgust the stupid American teenage 'tradition' deserves. A mind-numbed, brain-washed clone-girl behind me yells "Hey!" but I can't be bothered replying, not even to sling her the Vs.
First lesson of the day is English Lit. I sit down at my place. Joey Donner, asshole of the year, is behind me. I glower at him, before Mr Morgan starts in. "OK, what did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?"
"I loved it," says a girl behind me. I look round and notice it's the same whore whose poster I pulled down before. "Hemingway is so romantic."
"Romantic? Hemingway? He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso and trying to nail his leftovers," I cut in, unable to stop myself. Why does everything become a question of romance?
"As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous hag who has no friends?" Donner says, hardly able to restrain himself from crying with laughter at his own wit. A few students - mostly friends of Donner's - laugh. I silence them with a glare.
"Pipe down, Chachi," shoots Morgan from the front of the class.
I turn to Donner. "I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time." I can't help but retort whenever it's him - and it usually is. I can't stand him. The class groans. Can't stand them, either, come to think of it. "What about Sylvia Plath, or Charlotte Bronte, or Simone de Beauvoir?" I ask, turning back to Morgan.
Just then, there's a diversion at the back. Some curly haired boff-boy's just walked in. "What'd I miss?" he asks. Ooh, aren't we the bad boy?
"The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education," I reply, more to annoy Morgan than to help Curls out.
"Good," he replies, turns and walks back out. It's actually pretty funny, but I wouldn't be caught dead laughing.
"Mr Morgan," interrupts Donner. "Is there any chance we could get Kat to take her Midol before she comes to class?" Oh, what wits! It took him about ten minutes to think of that. Asshole.
Morgan agrees with me. "Someday you're gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it." I think it's quite funny, for a teacher, until he turns on me. "And Kat, I want to thank you for your point of view." I nod, surprised but pleased. Oh. He hasn't finished. "I know how difficult it must be to overcome all those years of upper-middle class suburban oppression." What?! Dick! "It must be tough. But the next time you storm the PTA, crusading for better.lunch meat or whatever it is you white girls complain about, ask them why they can't buy a book written by a black man!"
"That's right mon!" yell these two pot-smoking white Rastas, leaping up.
He turns to them. "Don't even get me started on you two!" They sink back down, muttering apology.
"Anything else?" I ask, sarcastically.
"Yeah, go to the office. You're pissing me off." What? I can't believe him!
"What? Mr Morgan -" I protest, but he cuts me off with a wave.
"Later!"
I pick up my bag angrily and walk out, hitting Donner as I go. His startled "Wha-?" is therapeutic enough, more so than any meeting with our porn- writing guidance counsellor would be - though I have to see her anyway.
Never mind.
A/N: Just an idea of what Kat must have been thinking all the way through. My 1st fanfic, so please be kind and review!
Disclaimer: I don't own 10 Things I Hate About You, or any of the characters. Wish I owned Heath, though.
Chapter One
I Don't Give A Damn 'Bout My Reputation
Another day, another morning.
I pull up in my car at the traffic lights, drowning out the cheesy pop-rap of the tarts in the car next to me with my own - far better - music. They roll their eyes at me when they think I'm not looking, but they're too scared to do anything else.
After all, I'm Kat Stratford, and I'm scary.
I get to school. Padua High - don'tcha just hate it? I'll be so glad when I graduate. Then it's to Sarah Lawrence - if they've accepted me, and if my dad'll let me go. I haven't actually told him yet.
I pull down a poster for the prom with the disgust the stupid American teenage 'tradition' deserves. A mind-numbed, brain-washed clone-girl behind me yells "Hey!" but I can't be bothered replying, not even to sling her the Vs.
First lesson of the day is English Lit. I sit down at my place. Joey Donner, asshole of the year, is behind me. I glower at him, before Mr Morgan starts in. "OK, what did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?"
"I loved it," says a girl behind me. I look round and notice it's the same whore whose poster I pulled down before. "Hemingway is so romantic."
"Romantic? Hemingway? He was an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso and trying to nail his leftovers," I cut in, unable to stop myself. Why does everything become a question of romance?
"As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous hag who has no friends?" Donner says, hardly able to restrain himself from crying with laughter at his own wit. A few students - mostly friends of Donner's - laugh. I silence them with a glare.
"Pipe down, Chachi," shoots Morgan from the front of the class.
I turn to Donner. "I guess in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time." I can't help but retort whenever it's him - and it usually is. I can't stand him. The class groans. Can't stand them, either, come to think of it. "What about Sylvia Plath, or Charlotte Bronte, or Simone de Beauvoir?" I ask, turning back to Morgan.
Just then, there's a diversion at the back. Some curly haired boff-boy's just walked in. "What'd I miss?" he asks. Ooh, aren't we the bad boy?
"The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education," I reply, more to annoy Morgan than to help Curls out.
"Good," he replies, turns and walks back out. It's actually pretty funny, but I wouldn't be caught dead laughing.
"Mr Morgan," interrupts Donner. "Is there any chance we could get Kat to take her Midol before she comes to class?" Oh, what wits! It took him about ten minutes to think of that. Asshole.
Morgan agrees with me. "Someday you're gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it." I think it's quite funny, for a teacher, until he turns on me. "And Kat, I want to thank you for your point of view." I nod, surprised but pleased. Oh. He hasn't finished. "I know how difficult it must be to overcome all those years of upper-middle class suburban oppression." What?! Dick! "It must be tough. But the next time you storm the PTA, crusading for better.lunch meat or whatever it is you white girls complain about, ask them why they can't buy a book written by a black man!"
"That's right mon!" yell these two pot-smoking white Rastas, leaping up.
He turns to them. "Don't even get me started on you two!" They sink back down, muttering apology.
"Anything else?" I ask, sarcastically.
"Yeah, go to the office. You're pissing me off." What? I can't believe him!
"What? Mr Morgan -" I protest, but he cuts me off with a wave.
"Later!"
I pick up my bag angrily and walk out, hitting Donner as I go. His startled "Wha-?" is therapeutic enough, more so than any meeting with our porn- writing guidance counsellor would be - though I have to see her anyway.
Never mind.
