Chapter 1 || Beautiful

You are Karkat Vantas. It's your first day of senior year and you are definitely remembering why you had such suicidal tendencies last year. The same bitchy girls and douchebag boys populate the school hallways as they had every other year of your high school life. You grumble, hiding your face behind the fabric of your hoodie, hoping no teacher would tell you to take it off like they always do.

Begrudgingly, you pull out your diary. No one else you knew was around to hear you complain, and this is what your therapist wanted you to do anyway, right? Might as well listen to her advice for once.

Immediately, you scribble the date.

September 1st, 1989.

Then you hesitate slightly before pressing your pen back on the paper, words spilling out of it as if it was one of your long-winded rants to your closest friend.

"Dear Diary,

I believe I'm a good person. Yet here I am, first day of senior year, looking out at these kids I've known all my life. And I just have one question; what happened?!

We used to be all happy and close when we were little, what the fuck happened to that? Now we're at each other's throats constantly. It's some kind of shitty survival of the fittest. This is a game I seem to be losing."

You pause as you hear one of the jocks pushing around an acquaintance, knowing if you intervened it would just mean more trouble. You gritted your teeth as you hear the scene unfold in back of you ("Freak!" "Loser!" "Faggot!" "Hunchback!") and go back to writing.

"This goddamn curse of growing older is what's to blame. I'm convinced. All of the kids in this hellhole shouldn't even be considered kids anymore. This isn't high school, it's the Thunderdome."

With that, the bell rings and you slam the book shut, shoving it into your somewhat messy backpack with your schoolwork. As you once again brace yourself to walk through the chaotic halls to the cafeteria, you breathe deeply to keep yourself from screaming. First day back and you're already counting how many left- you just need to remind yourself that you'll be graduating. College would be paradise if you weren't dead by June. As long as you get to abandon Westerburg High and the rest of this godforsaken town, you think you MAY be able to handle your urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze.

You're brought back to your sad reality when, of course, local asshole Dirk Strider decides to pick on you. Your tray of food goes crashing to the ground, and your bloodshot and sleep deprived eyes betray how startled you are.

"Ooooops," he says with a little smirk.

You scowl. Ah, Dirk. This year would be his third as linebacker, and eighth of smacking lunch trays and being a huge DICK.

"Ya got something to say to me, fag?" he says in his slight southern drawl, standing in front of you with one eyebrow raised and arms crossed intimidatingly. He's much taller than you, leaving you feeling like a lowly, dwarfish weakling.

You shake your head and escape while you can, hitting directly into someone whos back was turned.

"Oh, hey Karkat!" a familiar cheerful voice says. The person turns around, and of course- it's John Egbert. Your best friend since diapers.

"Hey," you say in response, coming off as a little irritated. John is oblivious to this. He always is.

"Are we still on for movie night?" he asks excitedly, like the cute dweeb he is. "I rented Con Air!"

"What? Again?" you respond, his cheery disposition contrasting greatly with your gloomy one. You were secretly hoping you could get to watch one of your romcoms tonight.

Now you realize it was naïve of you two to casually carry on a conversation of this caliber in the middle of the lunch line. Local asshole #2 and Strider's partner in crime, Jake English, pushes John forward, making him hit into you and drop his tray.

Jake. Quarterback and smartest guy on the football team - which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

"Pick that fucking tray up, you taintchafing feculent shitpuppet," you grumble. John's giggle at this does not help matters.

Jake laughs, getting closer to you. "Are you...actually talking to me?" he scoffs.

"Yes, I am," you practically growl. "I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend, you high school has-been waiting to happen. You...future gas station attendant."

He puts a finger on your forehead, and you flinch. "You've got a zit right there," he says with a laugh.

The entire lunchroom, now at attention considering that you DARED confront Jake English, bursts into laughter. The teasing, horrible waves of their merriment at your expense seemed endless, and you had never been happier to see the infamous trio in your life.

The three girls that floated above it all- solid teflon, never bothered and never harassed.

There was Nepeta Leijon. Head cheerleader. Her dad's loaded; he sells engagement rings. She's the nicest out of the 3, however, that doesn't mean much.

Next was Feferi Peixes. She runs the yearbook. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

And lastly...Vriska Serket. The Almighty. She was a mythic bitch.

God, you'd give anything to be free from all the teasing like they were.

And so would just about every other student at Westerburg; whether you hated or loved them, the envy was all the same.

The bell rings and everyone scatters; you say goodbye to John, work out who's bringing what kind of snacks to your weekly movie night, and head to P.E.

Outside the locker rooms stand the trio, Feferi bent over a garbage can while Vriska attempts to look at her reflection on the glass of a window and Nepeta looks on at Feferi's predicament.

You're confused for a second. They aren't in your P.E. class. Why are they here?

"Oh, grow up, Fef! Bulimia is soooooooo '87." Vriska scoffs.

"Uh, maybe you should go see a doctor, Fef." Nepeta chimes in as Feferi continues to vomit into the trash can.

"Ah, Miss Serket, Miss Leijon," comes a voice belonging to none other than Ms. Lalonde, a teacher. Feferi vomits again.

"...and Miss Peixes. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting? You're all late for class."

And you, being the intelligent fluffball you are, took this chance to scribble a hall pass on a piece of notebook paper. Ripping it out, you run over to Ms. Lalonde, handing it to her. "Actually, all four of us are out on a hall pass. You know, yearbook committee."

"...Ah. Well, I see you're all listed. I suppose I'll let you go, but get to where you're going quickly." The middle aged blonde woman replies, a little frown on her face in slight disbelief. Nevertheless, she still leaves.

As soon as she's out of earshot, Vriska spins around to look at you. "This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?"

"Karkat. Karkat Vantas. I crave a boon."

"What boon?"

You take a deep breath. "Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once, no talking necessary. If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone. And before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes."

"What about prescriptions?" Feferi asks, sitting up from her place bent over the trashcan.

"Shut up," Vriska snaps, turning back to you. "You know...you could be awfully cute, if you didn't look like such a...greasy little nobody. Hmm. All we need is a little work, and you could be beautiful. Something to get rid of those bags under your eyes, fixing that hair...Nepeta!"

The smaller girl's head shot up. "Yes?"

"I need to borrow your brush and all the makeup you have. You too, Feferi. Stick with us for a little while, Karkat, and we'll make you the envy of every boy and girl in school...just like us. Okay?"

"Okay!" you squeak.

For once, the next morning you were excited to go to school. Vriska had bought you a new outfit and fixed you up a little, promising there would be more where that came from. You didn't know if she developed a crush on you or something but what you did know was this was bound to get a reaction at school. Now that you were hanging out with the popular girls you definitely wouldn't get picked on by Dirk and Jake anymore. Even if they hated you, they wouldn't want to to cross any of the three girls.

At lunch, they made their normal entrance, this time with you in back.

"Who's that?" you heard people whisper.

"He's so hot," some girls giggled.

"Karkat?!" John yelled from across the cafeteria, in sheer disbelief.

Your name rippled across the cafeteria crowd, exiting every single person's mouth at least once.

So this was what it felt like to be popular. You felt so superior, like this was where you belonged all along anyway.

You got greetings, stares, and whispers as you walked to the "popular table". Even the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs felt like heaven at this table- like it was a different world.

Goddamn, you could get used to this.

"This is Karkat. He's going to be sitting with us from now on, got it?" Vriska said, looking at everyone at the table.

The biggest smirk spreas across your face as you eyed Dirk and Jake especially.

Ah, revenge was sweet.