Hi guys! This is my first fic ever, so be easy on me. Sorry for the short chapter, I'm currently working from my phone, and I just wanted to get the story up. Enjoy!
High school sucks a huge dick. That pretty much summed up Beca's experiences with the institution, all one and a half years of it. She wasn't afraid to share that opinion, seeing as how she was sitting here in the principal's office, giving her best impression of a rock. Stony. Cold. Unfeeling. She allows herself to hear but not truly listen to the sputtering, red-faced man as he explained to her, in great detail, why it was wrong to tell her English teacher why she hadn't completed her homework by describing the phallic nuances of high school. Non-listening is handy in a broken home. Shouting. Yelling. Screaming. Beca hears, but Beca doesn't want to know. She actually couldn't give the bigger of two shits about her parents' passionate hatred for each other. She doesn't really give much of a shit about anything. Which brings her back to the situation at hand.
"Are you even listening?" More like trying to figure out what type of animal his face was reminiscent of.
"Not really."
It's a struggle not to laugh at the honestly flabbergasted look on the poor bulldog's face. Yes, a bulldog. Good metaphor. A vocabulary word and a figure of speech, all in one sentence. See? English class is a non-issue. She didn't think he'd accept that as an excuse, though.
"You're a piece of work, Beca Mitchell," he huffs in true bulldog fashion.
"Thanks, I try my hardest. It's actually the only thing I try at."
Not technically true. Beca worked hard on her mixes. Those were her future. The future she wanted, at least. Not the future everyone else wanted for her. Fuck that future.
"I have to punish you."
"Okay."
It wasn't an issue. An hour in detention? Whatever, all she did in there was sleep. Not like she did anything in the school that he could take away, either. Her school spirit was at about zero degrees Kelvin; in other words, absolute zero. Science and English, all in one thought process! She was on a roll.
"No, not okay. This time, it's going to actually punish you."
Beca raised an eyebrow at that. What could it possibly mean?
"What." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of almost shock. Almost, because she still couldn't give a flying rat's ass.
Three knocks on the door.
"Come in."
And come in she does. Aubrey Posen, queen of high school, the walking cliche. As a cliche, she was a part of all the school sanctioned clubs, giving her face an appearance on nearly every page of the yearbook, and a cheerleader to boot. Her timing was movie standard; too perfect. She was probably listening outside, waiting for her cue. Bitch. Smile a little too big, disapproving eyes showing her true feelings, rigid posture. Gross.
"You called, sir?" she opened the door, smiling her reserved-for-adults smile.
"Yes. I need your help in punishing Ms. Mitchell here."
Okay, now Beca was freaking out. What did Aubrey Posen have to do with her punishment? With the shock and thinly veiled disgust on her face, Rich Bitch didn't know either.
"What do you have in mind, sir?" the blonde looked about 2.5 seconds from expelling everything in her stomach, much like the video from last year. Now that was funny, Beca had to admit. It was the only time she'd ever smiled because of the girl.
"Well, since Ms. Mitchell here treats any school or teamwork related activity like the plague, I was thinking that you'd show her around the choir room. Permanently." That fucking bastard.
Beca couldn't school her face into a neutral expression fast enough to hide the mortification she felt. Aubrey didn't even try. While any other day she'd be glad to revel in Barbie's discomfort, she was too busy dealing with her own.
"She will ruin us! We are one of the best show choirs in the state and-"
"My decision is final," he cut off what was sure to be a huge rant on the finer points of Beca's inadequacy.
"I don't sing." Beca felt it was important to point this out.
"Learn." The principal did not.