So...I'm not sure about this. I kind of like the idea, and I have a bit of it planned out, but if the response isn't that good, I'll probably just give up and focus on my Kurt/Finn oneshots. So please, please review if you like it!
Sam walked down the hallway, adjusting his backpack nervously. It was his first day of high school, and he wanted to make the best impression on everyone. So far he had been polite to his teachers, charmed every girl he met, and had even made the senior quarterback laugh. The day was going well, but it wasn't over yet. He still had to impress the football coach, or the next four years of his life would be hell.
"Hey there, shrimp." Amanda, his older sister, said, ruffling his hair. Sam frowned, batting her hand away.
"Mandy, do you have to? People can see."
The bespectacled girl just laughed. "You care way too much, Sammy."
He sighed. Mandy was free spirit; nothing bothered her like it should. Sam had been at William McKinley High School for less than five hours and he already heard the way people talked about her when she wasn't around. They called her a nerd, a freak, a loser; said she spent too much time playing her guitar and not enough making herself look nice.
"So how was your first day?" She asked as they stopped at Sam's locker. He rolled his eyes.
"Fine, Mom. I met some cool guys who said they'd get me invites to the big parties this year."
Mandy groaned. "Don't tell me – the ones where the Cheerios show up drunk, the jocks show up horny, and then someone calls the cops?"
Sam almost laughed. "Yup, sounds right."
Amanda huffed, leaning against the locker next to her brother. "Don't get mixed in with that crowd, Sammy. There are nicer guys on the team – befriend them."
Sam closed his locker, facing his sister. "Will they get me into parties? No. They'll get me tossed into the dumpster like the rest of your friends."
He walked down the hall, knowing that was a low blow. But Mandy raced to keep up with him. "Don't be mean, Sammy. And I would rather get tossed in a dumpster every day than hang out with those Neanderthals you call 'cool guys.'"
Sam sighed, turning down another hallway. "Whatever, Mands. Woah-" He stopped, walking into a cold blast of air. "Jeez, over-air-condition much?"
The bespectacled girl laughed. "We're in the Ghost Hall, Sammy. Of course it's cold."
Sam did a double take. "What? What the hell is a Ghost Hall?"
Amanda pointed towards a darkened classroom. "See that?" Sam nodded. "That's the old choir room. It hasn't been used in ten years."
The blonde boy ventured into his sister's story-telling trap. "Why…?"
Pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, Amanda grinned deviously. "Because it's haunted."
"What?" Sam laughed. "You're kidding."
Mandy huffed impatiently. "No, I'm not. Ten years ago, a football player came to school with a gun. His girlfriend broke up with him for some reason or another and he was pissed. And mentally unstable, obviously."
The younger boy groaned. "This is some story to keep me away from the football team, isn't it?"
"No! Let me finish, okay? It gets good."
"Fine."
Amanda rolled her eyes. "As I was saying, this psycho kid came into school with a gun – that's why Mom and Dad kept us home for a week in elementary school – and started shooting everyone he saw. Unfortunately, it was early in the morning, so the first people he came across was the glee club-"
"We have a glee club?" Sam asked, genuinely interested. He liked singing, as did Amanda and her friends. It could almost be fun.
"Shush! I'm telling a story. And no, not anymore. Anyways, he came in with the gun and ended up killing the entire glee club, including their teacher. He would have killed more people if it hadn't been for the cheerleading coach; apparently she kept stun guns in her office at all times. Bit of a nut job, too, but if she hadn't been there…who knows?"
Sam shivered a little. "God…"
Amanda nodded. "It's so horrible. And now their thirteen ghosts haunt the choir room-"
The younger boy laughed out loud. "Okay, now you're shitting me."
Mandy huffed. "I'm not! I've seen one of them!"
Sam rolled his eyes, peering into the dark room. "Seriously, 'Manda? Thirteen? If you had said, like, eight, or maybe fourteen or something, I would have believed you. But thirteen? How gullible do you think I am?"
They reached the lunchroom, parting to sit with their own crowds. As she turned to leave with her friends, Chris and Heather, Amanda stopped her brother, devious glint back in her eyes.
"Remember, Sammy: it takes twelve people to have a show choir. And one teacher to teach it. Thirteen really isn't such an unusual number."
Then she turned back to her friends, and left Sam alone and disbelieving. Ghosts weren't real.
"Hey, fish." Sam looked up to see the guys he had earlier called 'cool.' James Freedman and Max Ross stood in front of him, wringing their hands together creepily.
"Yeah?" He asked, in his perfected "freshman" voice. Not too nervous, but far from superior. It was the only way to get on the good side of guys like James and Max.
"We hear from Cory you're a pretty funny guy," Max started, folding his arms in front of his chest. Cory was the quarterback, and the only guy on the team who was considered both cool and "Amanda-approved."
"So we thought, since you're so funny," James continued, a feral grin creeping across his face. "You could do something funny for us."
Sam swallowed. "Like, hazing?"
Max and James exchanged evil looks. "No, no, not at all," James said, cracking his knuckles.
"More like…orientation. Catch my drift?" Max licked his lips.
"Oh…okay." If it got him into parties and a place at the popular table at lunch, Sam was willing to do anything. "What do I gotta do?"
The two jocks ushered him from the locker room, chuckling the entire time. Sam wondered vaguely if this little expedition was going to get him in serious trouble, but the constant reminders of booze and dancing and popularity curbed those fears.
When they stopped outside of the old choir room, though, Sam began having second thoughts.
"What do you want me to do?" He asked, flexing his fingers nervously.
Max grinned. "We want you to hide in here until a freshman walks by. Then, you'll jump out and scare the shit out of them. Do that for the next, oh, I don't know, hour, and we'll watch, okay?"
Sam frowned. "Okay…how is that funny?"
James sighed, as if he were speaking to an especially slow five-year-old. "They'll wet themselves, bro. And then we'll get to laugh at them."
The blonde boy groaned internally. It wasn't the worst thing they could have told him to do. Honestly, it all just seemed pretty stupid to him.
"Whatever. Just stand in here until someone comes by? Got it." Sam entered the choir room, shivering as the temperature dropped dramatically. The door shut behind him, and Sam could hear Max and James' laughter. Looking back, he saw them barricading the door with a spare desk that had been sitting in the hallway.
"Guys! What the hell? Let me out!" Sam shouted through the door, banging on the small window.
But the two football players just walked off in hysterics, wiping tears from their eyes. "Later, fish!"
"Not cool, guys! What the hell?" The blonde boy rattled the door, but the desk chair was lodged firmly under its knob, trapping Sam in the dark room.
"They never change, do they?" A voice came from behind Sam, causing him to whip around in panic.
"Who're you?" He asked, certain that the room had been empty when he walked in.
A boy stepped from the shadows, examining his nails with a bored expression. "Were you really stupid enough to believe they just wanted you to scare freshman? You are a freshman. And they're seniors. Honestly, use your brain for once."
Sam clenched his fists. "How did you get in here?"
The boy rolled his eyes. "They same way you did, Sherlock. Through that door."
Sam shook his head. "No. No way. You were not in here before."
The other boy just laughed, sitting daintily on the dusty piano bench. "I'm always here."
"What…? Who are you?" Sam asked, running a hand through his hair.
"My name's Kurt. Kurt Hummel. Resident cognitive ghost."
"What?" Sam looked at him incredulously. "Oh, I get it. Those guys paid you to try to scare me. Or come on to me. I'm not sure."
Kurt scowled. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm hitting on you. And besides-" He flipped his hair, smirking grimly. "If you're so homophobic to think that you're supposed to be scared of me because I'm gay, not dead, then you're not worthy of my adoration."
The blonde boy rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Ghosts aren't real."
Kurt's eyes widened. "Then what's that behind you?"
Sam turned to see a tall boy in a football uniform, blood dripping from the side of his head. His eyes were completely black, and he his outstretched hands were bloody and clawed.
"RUN!" Kurt shouted, pushing Sam to the side. The football player screamed and lunged after him, only to be tackled by another football player. Both boys flew across the room, knocking aside the dusty chairs.
Kurt braced his hands against the door, and the desk hurtled across the hall. Sam ran from the choir room and didn't stop running until he reached the parking lot.
"I told you so!" Amanda whispered excitedly, leaning over her textbook. The two were sitting in the library, "working" on their "homework."
"Oh, shut up and help me look. What was his name again?"
Sam had pulled out a pile of yearbooks, desperately searching for the ghost boy. Though he wasn't certain what he saw, he knew it had been terrifying and so realistic. Maybe, just maybe, Mandy was right.
"Kurt…Kurt…Kurt…oh, God…that's him…" Mandy squealed, turning the yearbook so she could see.
"Which one? Which one?"
The picture was captioned, "McKinley High Glee Club, 2009," and showed a group of happy kids, standing in a clean, well-lit version of the choir room. On the end, next to a pretty, blonde cheerleader was Kurt.
"Ooh, he's cute…" Amanda breathed, running her finger over the picture. "Look how happy they are…it's so sad…"
She turned to her brother, a determined look on her face. "You know what we've gotta do, Sammy?"
He looked at her, dread coming over him. "What?"
Amanda grinned. "We're gonna help those poor kids move on. One restless soul at a time."