Author's Note: So I've spent a long time preparing this, making sure I know where everything is going and the like. I've already finished the first three chapters and so far the characters have been writing themselves! I know this chapter is a bit sparse on the rest of the glee cast, but don't worry, they'll all be much more heavily involved starting from next chapter! Reviews make me a happy bunny!
Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Glee. Or Handle Me. Or Robyn. Just a computer and a brain.
The school building seemed to tower up into the sky. I wouldn't tell anyone this if they asked me later on in life at William McKinley High School, but in these first few moments, I was terrified. Would I be able to be the person I want to be? Would they allow me to keep my personality? Would people try to change me? Of course, being who I was, these worries didn't last long, and I soon found myself blasting through the doors and walking confidently to my locker, twirling my flaming red hair in a rather flirtacious manner around my fingers, while I made the conscious decision to send 'the look' to every guy I walked past. I needed to gather a following here, and one of these guys was going to be my future boyfriend anyway, so why not start early?
My diary was given the once over, to check what my first lesson was. French. I hated that language with a vengeance. It wasn't that I did badly in the subject – it was by far the one I found easiest, heck I was practically fluent. It was just… boring. I liked a challenge. At least the lesson would be a good way to meet people – if no-one liked it, it was likely there would be a lot of chatting.
I found the classroom easily enough, and chose a seat towards the back. Of course, it wasn't long before I was approached from behind. Some guy was leaning over me, and before I could get a look at him, he was whispering in my ear.
'Vivienne Westwood. Nice to see someone else understands the importance of fashion around here.' I laughed in response. It was true, I did understand just what fashion can do, what doors ikt can open when you are dressed nicely. However, right now, in the middle of my class which was surprisingly quiet, my giggle didn't get unnoticed. The teacher glanced around the room trying to find the source before fixing her eyes on me.
'I'd forgotten you were joining us today. Why don't you stand up and tell everyone your name?' I smiled – a perfect opportunity to introduce myself in the way I wanted them all to see me.
'I'm Stella, Stella McPherson, and if anyone uses that name in a derogitory manner, I will get you back.' The elderly teacher looked stunned as I walked back to my seat, a look copied by many people in the room. The guys all looked as though they'd just met their new queen, and the girls now all had their eyes shaped into slits. This was good, first lesson in,, and I had the boys on their knees, and the girls ready to kill me. After the teacher had handed out our worksheets, I found myself staring blankly at the wall. The guy next to me had introduced himself as Kurt, and was now muttering under his breath.
'Another linguistically challenged student. Am I the only one who actually understands any of this?' I glared at him. He must've seen me looking absent mindedly around and assumed I was a fail at French. I'd have to change that. Kurt was shuffling now, he must've realised I'd heard him.
'Je n'ai pas un problème avec les langues! Il y a très facile pour moi!' Kurt grinned, and tore out a page of his notebook. On it, he'd written five words. Nice. We should talk more.
Lesson over, I returned to my locker. I had a free period next, and decided now would be the perfect time to check out the clubs on offer at the school. I found the sign ups board pretty easily – I just followed the line of girls that seemed to be going slightly insane. One seemed to have a bird stuffed in her pocket. Of course, this line led straight up to the 'Cheerios' sign up sheet. How could I not have realised? Anyway, 'Cheerios'? Not important. Boring. Run of the mill. My eyes flitted over the other sheets. Horticultural Society, Jazz Band, Glee Club, Bakers 'r' Us… Glee Club! Perfect! I could show off my amazing vocal skills, and get some awesome guy as well. I reached for my pen, and just as the nib touched the paper, some thuggish loudmouths stumbled past me.
'Hey look! It's a new loser! Hey babes, I wouldn't put my name on there if I were you. Unless you actually want one of our super-special-gleek-exclusive-slushie-facials!' I turned my head, and walked up to the neanderthals, clenching my fist in the process.
'If you ever tell me what to do again, or what you think I should do again, I'll show you how I think your face should look with the help of my friend. It's called a fist.' The two idiots looked at each other and shrugged, before wandering off, making some stupid remark involving the words 'stupid' and 'bitch'. I returned to the sign-up sheets, more confident than ever that this was what I wanted to do, and scribbled my name onto the paper.
The faculty advisor for the club must've checked the board at lunchtime, because in the afternoon, he'd tracked me down as I was walking out of the English classroom. Apparently he was called Will Scheuster, coach of the New Directions. He seemed somewhat ecstatic that someone had put their name down on the sheet, and had quickly shoved a piece of paper with a time, and a place for my audition - tonight, after school, auditorium - before running after that Kurt kid who seemed to be running quickly down the hallway. I could hardly wait. Now I had about two hours to choose my song. One that suited me perfectly. One that would involve showing everyone my take-no-prisoners and self-proclaimedly brattish personality.
Those lessons before the end of the day had seemed to last forever. I hadn't really gotten to speak to anyone other than Kurt yet, and I could already feel everyone eyeing me up, deciding what cliques I would fit into. The guys continued to check me out wherever I went. In fact, the only two that I was sure hadn't were the two gits from earlier. They must've realised that I don't mess around.
By the time my audition did eventually come around, Mr. Scheuster had gathered the whole glee club in preperation. From where I was behind the curtain I could hear someone having an argument with a girl called Rachel. I didn't catch the full details, never mind. I was actually quite nervous for the second time today. That wasn't something that happened often, of course, I knew that as soon as the curtains opened I would be back to my usual self. It was almost freaky how at that moment the curtains opened. I walked forward, a smile on my face, and my eyes quickly skimming the audience. The only person I recognised was Kurt. It was nice to see that even the glee guys couldn't keep their eyes off me. I think I actually saw one blond cheerleader punch her also blond boyfriend to stop him from staring.
'Hi, I'm Stella McPherson, and today, I'll be performing Handle Me by the amazing Robyn'. I looked down as the music started, before moving my body in time with the music as I prepared to sing.
Yeah, I heard about some guy
That you beat pretty bad and got in the papers
Sure, you own a cool bar
And I hear you get far with every waitress
Yeah, I saw you on the poster
Your song is the bomb and you're outrageous
Sure, I see you're livin' large
With your crib and your cars and that's just great but
Let me tell you how it be
You won't get with this you see
'Cause you can't handle me
I could see now that some of the girls in the group had started moving around in their seats, doing what could only be described as… seat dancing?
Yeah, you make your big move
And I see you're not used to being rejected
Sure, you making' that call to your guy
And I'm sure you're well connected
Yeah, judging from that line
You just passed you are well known and respected
Sure, would me and my girls
Come participate in something you directed
Let me tell you how it be
You won't get with this you see
'Cause you can't handle me
It's a simple fact that you can't seem to handle me
No matter how you act with them
You can't handle me, you can't handle me
You gotta make me feel you got my back
But you're a selfish narcissistic psycho freaking
Boot licking Nazi creep and you can't handle me
There were a couple of whoops and cheers from the audience as I did a flip to prove that I had a strong dance capability as well.
Yeah, I think you're kinda cute
When you try and act like you ain't looking
Sure, I think you're kinda fly
And your ride sure is off the hooking
Yeah, bet you could take my mind off
Things for some time and take me shopping
Sure, you writing those rhymes
And the acts you produce are really kicking but
Let me tell you how it be
You won't get with this you see
'Cause you can't handle me
It's a simple fact that you can't seem to handle me
No matter how you act with them
You can't handle me, you can't handle me
You gotta make me feel you got my back
But you're a selfish narcissistic psycho freaking
Boot licking Nazi creep and you can't handle me
At this point the guys had started to really seem pretty into it. Some guy with a mohawk looked really amazed, and to be honest, I couldn't blame him, I could sing well, and dance well. Of course,, I was hot as well, which was definitely not something to cry about.
Yeah, I heard about some guy
That you beat pretty bad and got in the papers
Sure, you own a cool bar
And I hear you get far with every waitress
Yeah, I saw you on the poster
Your song is the bomb and you're outrageous
Sure, I see you're living' large
With your crib and your cars and that's just great but
Let me tell you how it be
You won't get with this you see
'Cause you can't handle me
It's a simple fact that you can't seem to handle me
No matter how you act with them
You can't handle me, you can't handle me
You gotta make me feel you got my back
But you're a selfish narcissistic psycho freaking
Boot licking Nazi creep and you can't handle me.
I finished my song laying down on the floor, and heard an almighty cheer. Everyone was clapping, and Scheuster was smiling. The only person not over-the-moon was the hobbette (it's what I like to call short girls – a short guy is of course a hobbit…). She was giving me a serious glare. My thoughts were distracted when Kurt ran up to me, and once again whispered into my ear.
'Thank you! Now someone other than Rachel will get a solo every now and again.' Now it made sense. That hobbette was Rachel – she must've been their 'star'. That would have to change.