Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect or that ringtone. Just a little idea I had while sitting in my exam last week.
'You may begin.'
The rustle of papers turning over coincides with Beca swearing repeatedly and explicitly in the junkyard that is her head. She stares down blankly at the first page of their Chemistry exam. She doesn't normally care about doing badly on exams, but this time a sick feeling of complete and utter dread is sitting, like a ball of lead, in her stomach.
She hasn't learned any of this. Beca flips the page hastily, ignoring the small rip she makes in the corner of the page. Or this. Did anyone actually revise for this exam? She can hear pens frantically scribbling away, so evidently some people did. Or maybe they just have a better memory than her, which wouldn't be surprising since her head is usually just full of music and swearwords.
Beca looks up quickly, trying to work out whether either of her neighbours have the same problem as her. Amy, who is on one side of her, is staring down at the questions like they are written in code. She breathes a slow sigh of relief that she's not the only one and looks back at her paper in the vain hope that the questions will have rearranged themselves. They haven't.
She flicks through the paper, guessing at some of the easier questions and completely ignoring the long answer at the end. Beca wonders why she didn't revise more, and remembers that even though she did set aside a time to revise for once, it got forgotten while she was creating her seventh mix of the night. By the time she had finished it to her satisfaction, it was two in the morning, she had run out of Red Bull, and she just couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.
Checking her other side, she has to stifle a gasp of shock and outrage at the unfairness of the world. Of all the people in her class, in the year even, she just had to be sitting next to Chloe Beale. She suspects the teachers have placed the students in a random order. She wouldn't normally have a problem with that, but no, she had to end up next to Chloe. Who is conveniently also the girl Beca has been crushing on since she joined the school almost two years ago.
If there was ever any doubt that Beca would fail this exam, it has all been erased in the past three minutes, during which Beca has been shamelessly staring at Chloe.
Realising what she is doing, Beca finds the strength of will to tear her gaze away. It's not her fault the redhead is so pretty. It's like she demands to be looked at. Except she would never demand (she's Chloe Beale, for God's sake), just ask so nicely and in such a way that you would find yourself willing to do anything for her.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, her face on fire, Beca looks back down at the paper, and halfheartedly tries to guess a few more of the answers, scrawling down words almost at random.
Beca doesn't even like Chemistry: she only joined the class because she had accidentally (okay, maybe not accidentally) overheard Chloe telling her friends it was her favourite subject. Unfortunately for Beca, who had hoped they would finally have a chance to talk, she walked in late on the first day, was promptly told to sit at the back, and had been sat there ever since.
None of her close friends (i.e. Jesse) are in the subject along with her, so Beca always spends the hour trying any means she can to relieve the absolute boredom. Usually, this means doodling or staring at Chloe, but the sad result of never paying attention is that she fails all the exams. Not that she really cares - she is going to drop Chemistry next year, Chloe or no Chloe. Although, the time she gets to spend - albeit indirectly - with Chloe is probably worth it.
She looks at the clock. Ten minutes! How can she have only been sitting here for ten minutes out of a two hour exam?! In her head, she tries to calculate what fraction of the total time that is before giving up. Mental maths has never been her strong suit either.
With nothing better to do (at least, that's what she tells herself), Beca goes back to staring at Chloe.
Chloe, who is of course one of those people who writes far too much for every question but still gets top marks. Right now, she is writing at breakneck speed, turning the page seemingly every other minute.
Chloe's concentrating face is probably Beca's favourite of all her different expressions. Her brows are slightly furrowed, the tip of her tongue is caught between her teeth, and she is winding a strand of red hair round her finger. She begins to write again, and from what Beca can see, her handwriting is perfect as well - beautifully formed, every t crossed, every i dotted neatly. It's almost the opposite of Beca's untidy scrawl. Beca probably could have nicer handwriting, but, like with most things school-related, she can never really be bothered.
If Chloe had been anyone else, Beca would have hated her. After all, she is every teacher's model student, while Beca is the troublemaker chatting at the back of the class after the teacher has called for silence. But this is Chloe Beale, who is nigh on impossible to hate. Probably nearly all of the student populace - both male and female - have had a crush on her or wanted to be her friend at some point.
Beca's train of thought is just leading her to consider setting up a support group for those Chloe has left broken-hearted when she gets distracted as she watches Chloe, who, lost in thought, is chewing the end of her pencil.
It's not a habit Beca has noticed before (and she has catalogued almost every one of Chloe's quirks, for science obviously), but she can't help but wish she is the pencil. She unconsciously mimics the action, drawing the end of her own pencil softly round her mouth.
Chloe looks up, and Beca is so startled that she drops her pencil. It skitters across the floor to just beside Chloe's foot. At first, it doesn't appear that Chloe has noticed anything, but then, still writing, she leans down gracefully and picks it up, twirling the pencil gently between long fingers.
Beca glares at the pencil. Of all of her pencils, it had to be that one? The one which used to say 'It's not cool to do drugs'? It was a souvenir from life class a few years ago. After much use (mostly by Jesse, who found it hilarious), it now reads 'do drugs'. Beca mentally facepalms. Sure enough, Chloe is reading the side with a confused look on her face. Damnit.
Beca quickly rearranges her facial expression, with difficulty, into something more happy as Chloe turns and holds out the pencil to her, smiling ever so slightly and biting her lip in such an adorable way that she can't help but be drawn to it. With an almost shaking hand, Beca reaches out and takes back her pencil, face going red once again as Chloe offers that soft smile to her. She fumbles slightly, but manages not to drop the pencil a second time.
Chloe has already turned back to the paper, no doubt composing another faultless answer, but Beca has no such luck. Resisting the urge to smell the pencil to see whether any of Chloe's perfume has lingered from her touch, she decides to have another go at the paper. Maybe some of Chloe's cleverness will have rubbed off on to the pencil. It may just be wishful thinking, but Beca actually accomplishes a few answers that are both legible and sensible.
She daydreams about Chloe for a while, and must have got caught up in her fantasy, because the next thing she remembers is being shaken awake by the exasperated invigilator. Lifting her head from where it was lying on her arms, and blinking a few times, she peers around through sleep-misted eyes, and sees Chloe looking towards her.
Beca flushes, scowls, and tries to slouch even lower in her chair than she already is, which only results in the chair squeaking loudly and unhelpfully. The flush spreads to her ears, which feel like they are on fire, and she glances around furtively for a distraction that is not Chloe.
She doesn't find one.
Looking back at the clock to divert herself, Beca is surprised to see that there are only 30 minutes left on the exam.
On the whole, Beca doesn't mind the silence of the exam room. But right now for her it seems way too loud. She swings on her chair, but miscalculates and has to compensate for her bad balance by grabbing at the sides of the desk. Which is nowhere near stable enough and upends all her things on to the floor.
The sound of her pencil case hitting the floor with a thud, spilling its contents across the floor, is all too loud, and heads turn to face her. Beca is tempted to bang her head repeatedly against something. Instead, she huffs dramatically, shaking off everyone's judgemental stares, and resigns herself to the embarrassment of picking up everything off the floor.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, Beca can't quite decide which), she has a redheaded saviour in the form of her neighbour. Chloe leans down in an easy motion to gather up Beca's test paper and holds it out to her. She raises an eyebrow when Beca doesn't immediately take it, but Beca jerks herself out of her Chloe-induced stupor and shoves the paper back onto her desk ungracefully.
Beca moves over to collect the stationery scattered across the floor on the other side, but is caught off guard by the vibration of her phone. Her phone, which should be outside the exam hall. If there is one thing Beca prides herself on, it's her disregard for rules. Right now, though, she almost wishes she had left the phone where it was supposed to be.
Please let it not be Jesse is all she can think, but of course it is. After all, who else would be calling her in the middle of an exam? Unluckily for her, the ringtone she uses for Jesse is not exactly... child-friendly, and Beca always has the volume on her phone turned way up so she can hear it while mixing.
Beca shuts her eyes in a final plea as the ringtone begins to blast across the hall. She is tempted to press her fingers to her temples to alleviate her growing headache, but resists.
The urge to throw her phone across the room is getting stronger. Not that that would actually achieve anything.
'The person on the phone's a fucking twat, fucking twat, fucking twat. The person on the phone's a fucking twat so don't answer this call.' her phone sings, to the tune of 'The Wheels On The Bus'. Heads are turning right across the hall and Beca has never been more mortified in her life.
She buries her head in her hands, reminiscent of an ostrich, as the second verse begins.
'The person on the phone's a stupid prick, stupid prick, stupid prick. The person on the phone's a stupid prick so don't answer this call'.
Beca glances up to see everyone staring at her. She doesn't dare look at Chloe. Many students are stifling giggles and a few are openly laughing. She flushes in embarrassment.
'The person on the phone talks lots of shit, lots of shit, lots of shit. The person on the phone talks lots of shit so don't answer this call.' The final verse blares out and the invigilator, Miss Oswald, starts to stride purposefully towards Beca's desk. The flush on Beca's cheeks works its way to her ears and neck and she curses her pale skin.
Unfortunately, Beca never got round to picking up the stationery on the floor. The teacher, who is about to reach out for the phone, ends up tripping on a pen and falling face first on to the floor.
Beca smirks. This could not have been any worse, but thankfully the teacher now sprawled ungracefully across the floor has taken most of the attention off her.
If this was a cartoon, steam would be pouring from Miss Oswald's ears right about now. Her cheeks are scarlet with embarrassment and anger as she stands and it is obvious that nearly all the people in the exam hall have completely given up on their tests to watch the unfolding spectacle.
The teacher holds out a hand imperiously, and Beca, still smirking, places the phone into it. Miss Oswald snatches her hand away and moves back to her seat at the front.
'Silence!' she calls out, and with a few shuffles and murmurs, the hall is returned to only the quiet noise of pens jotting down answers.
Not having the confidence to look back at Chloe, who she is sure will be horrified by her blatant ignorance of the rules, Beca goes back to retrieving her stationery off the floor.
Ten minutes later, when her pens have been organised in all the ways she can think of, Beca is bored out of her mind. The clock reads five minutes to go.
Luckily for her, nothing more happens in those five minutes.
'Stop writing, time's up!' calls Miss Oswald, who collects the papers in agonising slowly. Beca is dying to get out so she can murder the idiot she calls a best friend. She should have expected her luck wouldn't hold.
'Stay behind, please, Miss Mitchell.'
Beca groans and lets her head hit the desk with a thunk. She waits for everyone to file out, not bothering to look up, before making her way to the front as slowly as possible.
'This is not to happen again.' says the teacher. Beca nods, her eyes downcast in the perfect picture of deference. She should have taken drama, she thinks to herself.
Miss Oswald hands Beca's phone to her, catching her eyes with a searching gaze. 'You know you can always talk to me, right, Beca?' she asks, and Beca almost scoffs before remembering her mask. She nods instead, dropping her eyes to avoid laughing. Like she would ever willingly talk to a teacher.
Beca turns to leave the exam hall. Well, it could have been worse.
Might continue this if anyone wants me to. Reviews welcome!