Title: Under the Radar
Disclaimer: I don't own it, so don't sue.
Summary: High School isn't easy. If you're not one of the popular kids, then you're nothing.
A Samcedes story told through the eyes of an outsider. Second Person POV.
A/N: Please review! I'd like to know what people think about the story and the POV. Reviews are love :)
High School isn't easy. If you're not one of the popular kids, then you're nothing. While you get miffed that you're not on the radar just yet, a part of you is happy about that. It's your second year at McKinley High School and you can remember the days of Junior High, talking with your friends about how excited you all were to move on up in the world; how everything will be different once you get to High School.
Well things are different, that's for sure. Just not in the way you've imagined. Your friends from Junior High are more like distant acquaintances now, all those vows of 'friends forever, no matter what!' now ring hollow in your ears; just empty proclamations from those who give you an empty smile whenever you pass them in the hall. Some have gone on and made a difference for themselves; they've found themselves at the top of the food chain, as far as Sophomores go, and others aren't even on the radar at all.
You? Well you're in between. You have your friends and a bit of a social life, but all in all, you manage to stay under the radar but you're still not really a nobody. You're fortunate for that, you suppose. You don't want to deal with common things that come with being popular: the peer pressure and the need to fit in, on the other hand, being completely unpopular gets you things you don't ever want to deal with like excessive bullying; the shoved against lockers, the mocking and – worst of it all – the slushies.
(You have to admit that when you see the jocks round the corner with the Big Gulp sized plastic cups in their hands, you press yourself against your locker, as if doing that will totally make you incognito. Your sigh of relief when they pass you by without second thought is inevitable; though guilt replaces the relief quickly when they find their target.)
Being under the radar also afforded you other advantages as well. You're the first to admit that you have a tendency to be a nosy person, though you're not obvious about it. You're an observant person, despite the look of disinterest you've mastered so well. People don't notice you, or if they do then they just assume that you're focused on other things and it's through that, that you've heard many many things. So now, without effort, you are officially a 'people watcher.'
Not in a creepy way or anything. Just as an observational standpoint. You don't know much about those who catch your eye. You know some basics about them, the rumors that surround them, sometimes it's only their name. It makes it more interesting for you. You try to read their emotions, or their body language, and try to fill the blanks in yourself.
You're probably far from accurate, but it's still fun nonetheless. You know you'll probably never know if you're right or not. Not unless you manage to get into the social circles of those you've watched, and let's face it, that's probably not going to happen.
You've stopped running your own theories by your friends as soon as they side eyed everything you've told them.
Dave Karofsky gay? Yeah, okay. He's just an asshole, plain and simple. I really doubt that it's because he's got some self hatred thing going on. You're giving someone like Karofsky too much credit, if you ask me.
Oh my God, you and your theories. Santana Lopez? Okay, now you're being completely ridiculous. She's, like, banged every guy in school. You know, you're starting to worry me with all this talk about the gays and lesbians at this school, This is Ohio. Stuff this interesting doesn't happen in Ohio.
So you keep your mouth shut and your observations to yourself. Even though rumors went flying like crazy when one Santana Lopez may or may not have been outed thanks to one Finn Hudson, you say nothing. It's a fucked up situation all around, and you don't feel much like bragging to those who doubted you. Whatever. Nothing else has proved to be true anyway. Maybe you are reading way too much into things, but still, it keeps things so very interesting.
It's a slow day today and you find yourself dragging your feet at your locker because you're dreading going to Miss. Hagberg's Math Class. You're no math wizard, but you're pretty sure that the square root of 100 is not 1 and that for triangles, all sides do not equal 360 degrees.
You have a 15 minute break until you actually have to will yourself to go to class, so you spend your time lurking by your locker, shoving books in, taking some out but leaving your eyes and ears open. You're an observer, after all.
You watch the crowds of students filling the hallway, some trying to shove their way to their next class, but most are being loud and obnoxious. You see Noah Puckerman wink lasciviously at Chelsea Stevens, who returns the gesture with a look of disgust. You watch as Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry rush down the hall, hand in hand, in deep conversation (Well, Rachel Berry is doing all the talking; Finn looks really confused, and possibly constipated… like he has no idea where he is.)
You see Scott Cooper and Rick Nelson – sans slushies but Mullets intact— strolling as if they own the place. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, because you definitely don't want to get on their radar.
Sighing, you hoist your books closer to your chest and move to shut your locker, but something to the left of you catches your eye. You pull yourself closer to your locker, allowing your eyes to peek from the side of your locker door. You watch as Sam Evans scowls while shoving books in his locker. This surprises you because Sam Evans is almost always smiling.
Not that you know much about him. You know that he attended McKinley last year before his family upped and moved to Kansas, or Kentucky, somewhere like that. He's returned, though, but it's different this time. He's still in the glee club, but this time around there's no letterman jacket on his back or Quinn Fabray on his arm. He seems like a nice guy, one that smiles at everyone he passes in the hall, and though he's not your type, even you have to admit that he's a decent looking guy;almost like what you'd imagine Macaulay Culkin would look like if all his features actually went together.
As with every other student at school, you've heard rumors about him, too. Nothing damaging or anything like that. Just the typical down on your luck kind of thing and situations that happened beyond his control. You've always been a little curious about the glee club; in a way you think a lot of people are. While those kids aren't on the top of the totem pole, they aren't exactly chopped liver, either. Secretly you like to think that everyone in the school actually respects them all, but no one will ever come out and say it.
You push your stray thoughts aside and go back to sneaking looks at Sam Evans, your mind trying to figure out just why he's looking pissed off today, with an extra chip on his shoulder. Your mind flips through everything that you know about him, but nothing rings a bell. Nope, he's always come off as a laid back guy who rarely lets things get to him.
You eye your watch, noting that you have three minutes to haul ass and get to class. You're about to give up on the mystery that is Sam Evans when you see his demeanor completely change. Suddenly his entire posture changes, his shoulders straighten, the scowl from his face is gone, replaced by a look of –
Regret? Sadness? Longing?
Oh, this interests you. You bite your lip as you casually cast your eyes in the other direction, hoping to catch his line of sight. The hallway is thinning now and only a handful of people remain. You want to stomp your feet in frustration, because the people that are still here aren't the one who could possibly be making him –
and then you see her. Looking back at Sam for a second to double check your theory, you follow his line of sight back and you now know more than ever that this is the cause of his… pining.
Mercedes Jones is a self proclaimed diva. She walks with a sway of her hips, light on her feet with an air of confidence. She moves with a purpose no matter where she's going. She comes off as though she really doesn't care about anything, but you've observed her enough to know that there are times when she wears her emotions on her sleeve. You can tell when she's happy (her smile is amazing, you have to admit. It lights up her features and you can practically feel the happiness radiating from her) and when she's pissed (she has what you like to call a "get the fuck out of my way" look. Very intimidating. She can part hallways with that look).
She's walking now, towards whatever destination, with a purpose as usual. You watch as she strides, confidence full and then her step falters and her bright smile wavers. Almost as soon as it happens, it's gone; she's slower in steps and her smile is a bit more dim but all she does is push a curl behind her ear and moves forward. She's good.
You watch as she squares her shoulders before she approaches Sam Evans. He's wiped the sad look of longing off of his face, but his eyes are still gleaming with adoration. They're talking in low, hushed tones although it doesn't come off as secretive or anything. Sam is smiling as he leans casually against his locker, body relaxed, all traces of the chip on his shoulder completely gone. They're both smiling now, Mercedes grinning widely at something he's said (You're betting it's one of those impressions he does cause he just got a real goofy look on his face.)
Suddenly she's laughing loud, they're so relaxed, and you feel the small bit of jealousy coil in your stomach. It's a rare thing, honestly, to see two people like this completely at ease with each other; completely carefree and open. You can't believe that within three minutes, you've gotten so invested.
Checking your watch you realize that you have one minute to make it to class, so you sneak another look at the couple. He's teasing her now, and she's trying to suppress a grin while rolling her eyes. He murmurs something with a raise of his eyebrows, and she's hits his arm, looking embarrassed at whatever it is he's said.
They must've realized the time because Mercedes pulls her books closer to her chest and Sam straightens from the locker. She tilts her head at something he's said and a curl strays from behind her ear. You suck in your breath as you see Sam reach forward to tuck that errant curl back, but his hand freezes mid air and after a couple of seconds he shoves it back into his pocket.
You glance away, suddenly feeling like an intruder on this very private moment and you see Shane Tinsley at the end of the hall (and really, it's not a shocker. Does he ever have a class? He's always lurking in hallways when you see him.) He's texting on his cellphone but you look back to Sam and can see his demeanor has completely changed again. He's shoulders are squared and his back ramrod straight. He tilts his head at Mercedes, who turns around and the wide grin she's sporting falters.
It occurs to you just now that what you just witnessed was a very private and personal thing and now you feel shitty for it. Mercedes Jones and Sam Evans had been an item at one point (no one knows the extent of their relationship) and now she's with Shane Tinsley; their relationship going solid and strong. You turn to your locker as Shane walks up to them and exchanges hello's with Sam before offering to walk Mercedes to her class. You sneak a look and see that Sam doesn't even try to smile at Shane's greeting, and he flinches when Mercedes takes Shane's hand, allowing him to lead the way.
His expression is hurt, but just like that he inhales deeply and it's replaced by a blank one. You move to close your locker and look over your shoulder to find Sam Evans looking right at you. You don't flinch or look away, instead offering him a small smile that you hope goes a long way. You wish you can walk up to him and tell him that it will all work out. That even you can see the love that's between them.
But you can't, so you don't. Instead you hope that your smile seems encouraging without being sympathetic; that he realizes that you're totally rooting for them and goddammit, you want an invite to the wedding when this is all fixed.
In the end it only comes out as a smile though and that's all he will see. He gives you a small curt nod as he passes you, his lips twitching and you hope that someday these two crazy kids will get their shit together.
The bell rings and you sigh as you close your locker. High School isn't easy. If you're not one of the popular kids, then you're nothing. Being under the radar sucks sometimes, but it has it's advantages. You get to observe social circles outside of your own. You get to watch lives from the sidelines, without ever getting involved. You know you're not always right, though times like these you hope to be. But in the end, whether you're right or not, it doesn't matter because it's not about you, is it? Lives move forward, people move on and feelings change. So you try not to invest too much into anything anymore. Besides, what's it matter anyway? In the end, you still don't know these people. You're under the radar. You're just an outsider who doesn't really know much at all.