A/N: Look guys, I'm being very stupid here. two stories in a day. But this isn't really a story, I'm going to delete it after a week anyway. Cheers.
Life was fairly easygoing for Beca Mitchell. Apart from the occasional clash with her mother, she was doing quite well. Her grades were quite high, despite the fact she seldom studied, she had no friends, a pretty devastating situation for some, but she saw it as a blessing, and her music. According to Beca, life was pretty worthless without music. What would she do without the tune floating into her ears, washing away the disturbances of life? How could she cope without it?
There were kids who went, 'Yeah, music's cool. Have you heard Justin Bieber's new song?! So good, right?'. Congratulations, you've earned yourself a raised eyebrow, an eye-roll and made yourself an enemy of Beca Mitchell. And the inevitable, 'Yeah, yeah, I know right? Wait what? Oh, wanna go out sometime?'. That would be an icy glare, an indignant 'no', and the resounding footfalls of Beca as she stomps away. Of course, there was the rare person who was as immersed in music as Beca was, but the conversations never lasted for long. It was either, 'Yes, yes, music is something that unites us all - oh, crap! I totally forgot I had to practice seven hours of piano today, not five!' or 'What would life be without music? Well... Oh, are you sure? The Beyoncé album is being released today?! See ya later, Mitchie!' So, after a rather pointless search for someone who could have an ounce of the passion Beca had, she gave up. She could just about imagine those weird science shows she watched to waste time. Aim: Find someone who loves music as much as me. Hypothesis: There will be no-one. Materials: Music, me and the possible someone. Method: Find the someone. Results: There was no-one. Conclusion: I was right, there was no-one. The end.
It was the beginning of Beca's second year at her high school. Not that that made any difference to her.
As Beca stiffly walked through the wide corridors of the school hallway, clutching her textbooks, earphones in ears, she hummed softly to a random song she had picked up from the radio. Her day was going to be just as monotonous as any other first day. Do an excruciatingly hard test in Biology, get toasted by her Maths teacher, reject some idiotic perverts, evade the typical, 'Oh my god, did you get those clothes from the rubbish dump?!' and finish her mashup of 'Paradise' by Coldplay and 'Superheroes' by The Script. Yep, that sounded like a plan. Now, eight periods. Why did the school even bother with so many periods? Eight stupid lessons to get through. She'd much rather sleep through a one-hour lesson than endure the embarrassment of falling flat on her face as she briskly walked, more like stumbled, to her next class. Beca thought her day would pass as quickly as it came if she kept her head down low, but only God knew what was to happen if she kept her head too low.
"Oof!"
As she rounded the corner, her head collided with a hard object, knocking her earbuds out of her ears. A similar cry of surprise could be heard right in front of her. She struggled to maintain her posture, as she straightened up and looked at the thing that had so rudely ruined her day. Her eyes levelled with a chocolate-haired boy, who was struggling to keep a grin off his face.
"What's your problem?" Beca glared at him.
The boy rubbed his chest and responded, "I would say the same for you. I know you are attracted to me, but you don't have to kiss my chest to prove it."
"What?! I haven't seen you before today! I don't even know you. Don't go around making fun of people's height!" Her face flared to a bright shade of pink, which was quite impressive for such a pale person.
"I didn't make fun of your height, you brought that along yourself. But, that reminds me, you are pretty short."
That was the last straw.
"Dude! Would you just get lost? I'm trying to get to my English class and this nerdy hunk materialises in front of me, denying me access!"
"Wait. You have English too! I'll walk you there. And by the way, I was trying to get to my locker when a surly elf with excess eyeliner clumsily pranced into my chest."
"I do not prance!"
"Tell that to the bystanders."
He grinned and gestured at two girls, giggling by their locker. They whispered to each other, pointing at Beca. One was even imitating her, prancing exaggeratedly into her locker whilst the other was collapsing into a fit of giggles. Beca 's eyes drilled into their heads, fists clenched, ready to sock the sparkly makeup off their faces. Taking hint, the girls stopped and quickly walked away, still chortling at their joke. She began to walk to her class, grumbling.
"So, elf. What's your name?" The boy easily kept up with her.
"As if I'm telling you that."
"I'll know after English so you should just tell me now."
"No."
"Aw, c'mon. It's the first step to developing a friendship."
"I don't want to be friends with you."
"What? I am the best person to be friends with. I can tell that we will be best friends and, or lovers."
Beca glanced at him, the annoyance evident in her eyes.
"Please don't say lovers."
"Hey, hey, at least we can be best friends!"
"No."
"Our differences - "
He was cut off by the distinct sound of Beca opening their classroom door. She smirked triumphantly at him as she entered the room.
"For once, I am grateful we have class."
"Nuh, uh. I'm not done yet, elfy."
She knew English was about to become a living a nightmare. He had decided to sit next to her instead of the nerd in the magician's cape or the ogling girls in the back corner. There were spare seats all over the classroom, but for some stupid reason, he occupied the seat next to her. She was used to being alone. Alone during the breaks. Alone during class. Alone at home. Alone was the way she liked to roll. Occasionally, she didn't mind the late person sitting next to her. They never bothered to talk to 'the surly kid with the piercings'. Usually, conversations would be a simple, 'Hey can I borrow a pen?' or 'What did the teacher say?'. But this was different. The boy had a choice and he chose to sit there. Why couldn't the infuriating moron leave her alone?
Then the unthinkable happened.
"Class... I am Mrs Longan, I will be your English teacher this year. These seats will be permanent so it will be easier to get to know you all better!"
There were collective groans from all over the class, but the loudest was by far Beca's. She could not fathom a year sitting next to that boy. Beca wasn't even sure if she could make it out of high school alive.
Then, the boy raised his hand.
"Yes," she skimmed over her roll quickly, "What's your name?"
"It's Jesse, Jesse Swanson. And I wanted to ask what we are doing this term?"
The dude did have a name after all. Beca rolled his name over her tongue. Nice name.
"I'll get to that. It's good to know someone is thinking!"
Beca glanced at him. His cheery personality seemed to radiate all over the classroom. She wondered how his girlfriend could cope with his overly bubbly enthusiasm.
She didn't pay much attention after that. It was the typical first-day drone. Inconspicuously, she stuck her earbuds into her ears and allowed the music to wash over her. It wasn't until much later that she felt a slight prod on her shoulder. Beca jolted awake with a start, alertly scanning the classroom. Everyone's eyes were on her, their mouths curved into sniggers and smiles. Mrs Longan shook her head, pressing her lips together.
"You are Beca Mitchell, is that correct? Dr. Mitchell wouldn't want to know his daughter is slacking off in English!"
Oh crap. Stupid teacher. You just gave away my damn name. She stole a side glance at Jesse. He was trying to suppress a smile as he grinned victoriously at her. His eyes twinkled, I know your name now!.
"Miss Mitchell?"
Beca turned back to the teacher.
"Yes, Miss?"
"Pay attention, and I recommend you take those headphones out of your ears."
Earphones, woman! I know you're old, but you can't be that old to not know what these are, Beca mentally sighed, and stared at the whiteboard, boredom washed over her. This day could not get any worse.
A/N: Review in vain if you want. Or maybe you want to salvage the story. Blah, Idc. Your choice, folks.
Happy reading/deleting for me.
Cheers,
LeYoYo