Matchmaker

Matchmaker, matchmaker,

match me a match, find me a find!

I'm a taker, I'm a taker,

catch me a catch, even if they're colorblind!

Honestly, this "matchmaker" thing is a waste of time. Noah Puckerman was a (self-proclaimed) stud. And he knew that; he was aware of all the gazes that were directed at him when he walked down the halls. Yeah, he realized this "matchmaker" was fun for all the single people out there to see who they were meant to be with, and who they weren't. But seriously, it was stupid. Why would a cruddy paper know who was the best-suited for you in your love life? That's right, it didn't.

It was so clearly a scam to sap the love-sick students of their 3 dollars for a piece of fancy photo-paper. It was a waste of money and trees, not like he was an environmentalist though. Was he going to buy one though? Hell yes, he was. That's why he was standing in the massive line to hand money over in order to find your "destined one." Normally, he would answer with a bunch of crap for answers, but he decided that he would take the questions slightly more seriously.

His mind brought him back to his third period last Monday where they where he was sitting by Finn, flicking miniscule paper balls at the kid with an afro. He smirked whenever they actually got stuck in the large mess of brown hair. Mr. Schue was handing out the scantrons and he figured it was just another test. He could flunk another quiz. It's not like they were going to kick him out of the basketball team. He had the highest vertical leap on the team.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was actually the Matchmaker. Puck started counting the months that had passed since the New Year started. Right. It was February now. He shrugged and snatched a pencil off a kid's desk. The questions were retarded if he were to be honest. For example, what would your favorite animal have to do with finding the one you're destined to be with. He rolled his eyes as he wrote his name down on the blank. He glanced around him and found that most of the class was actually being serious about it.

He raised an eyebrow at Rachel Berry, who had removed a sticker sheet out of her backpack. He rolled his eyes when she placed a gold star after her name. Her and her stupid "metaphors." He huffed before shifting his attention back to the paper. He circled all of his answers on the sheet.

What is the best thing you have to offer?

A. Incredible Intelligence

B. Awesome Humor

C. Amazing Talent

D. Extreme hotness

Puck circled D. Of course he did. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at what Finn was circling. Finn was erasing furiously between two answers. He was also glancing between two girls: Rachel and Quinn. Whenever he seemed to look at Rachel, he circled C, however whenever he looked at Quinn, he circled D.

Puck rolled his eyes. As if Quinn was really that shallow. He decided not to concern himself with Finn's affairs and simply finished up his test, circling the answers honestly. He only took a few minutes while everyone took at least 15 minutes to finish. He rolled his eyes. That was another bogus thing about it. If they were really being honest with the answers, they wouldn't have to take so freaking long. How hard is it to circle a choice? No one was finished. He glanced around the room and heard a paper being flipped over.

He caught sight of Rachel moving to pass up her matchmaker to the front. Well, maybe Berry's being honest. Shortly after, Quinn followed suit, looking quite nonchalant in placing her matchmaker on Mr. Schuester's desk.

He heard paper shuffling again as Jesse St. James, Mr. Schue's T.A. stood up. Apparently, he decided to delay his trip to UCLA and volunteered to help out at William McKinley by becoming a T.A. for various classes, which were conveniently coordinated with Rachel's schedule. He was surprised that he didn't just go to UCLA. After all, Vocal Adrenaline had already beaten Glee Club at Regionals, leaving them second place. For placing, the club wasn't disbanded, but Puck couldn't fathom the idea that the guy was there for Rachel. He rolled his eyes at the way they sweetly held hands while sitting in their seats (which of course was conveniently next to Rachel.) He banged his newly-stolen pencil against his desk as he glowered at the back of Jesse's head.

He huffed and a person behind him tapped him from behind. He turned around while the scowl from his memory was still intact. "What?"

Jesse returned Noah's scowl with a smile, "It's your turn, Noah."

He glared at him. "It's Puck."

"Oh, just go get your matchmaker already, Noah. You're holding the line up," Rachel told him while leaning against Jesse with his arm around her shoulder.

He huffed. Couples going forward to get their matchmaker. How ridiculous. He paid the three dollars and snatched the stupid piece of paper and stalked off before they could say anything. Maybe that's why the line was taking so freaking long. He skimmed through the friendship list. He read the top of it.

The fist percentage next to the name represents the percent chance that you will like them, and the second is the percent chance that they will like you.

1. Finn Hudson 89.9% 89.9%

2. Mike Chang 78.8% 76.3%

3. Matt Rutherford 74.4% 62.4%

Yeah, he had expected those first three. To his surprise, numbers 6, 9, and 10 belonged to Artie Abrams, Kurt Hummel, and… Jesse St. James. He nearly crumpled the paper up in anger and stomp it into the ground. Of the large amount of people at William McKinley that stupid spy (at least he thinks) had made it into his top 10. He turned the paper over to the other side.

Wanna see your compatible Romantic matches? Go get your other printout!

"That is such crap!" he whispered angrily to the paper in front of him. They're trying to sap me of my freaking money! Three dollars for this stupid friendship list!? I already knew that Finn was my best friend! He proceeded to crumpling up the annoying paper. He looked behind him and found the line was still as long as ever. Was it worth it to go back in and get the stupid paper?

A paper was held out in front of him. It was his matchmaker. He snatched it out of the fingers, not caring if the calloused fingers got papercuts. He was met with Jesse St. James and Rachel Berry. "You forgot this, Noah," Jesse said, while grinning in his usual "I'm-better-than-you" sort of way.

"Puck," he emphasized.

"Noah, stop lashing out like that. You were the one who failed to remember that the matchmakers are 3.00 for both. You stormed away before they could hand you your second one," Rachel told him before leaving with Jesse, their fingers entwined as they held their two matchmakers as well.

Sometimes, he really hated Rachel Berry. Where was a freaking match when you needed one?

He pushed the thought aside and looked at his romantic matchmaker. He started from the bottom up. Not to his surprise, his most opposite was Quinn Fabray. The two percentages were about equal at 10%. He searched through the top matches and he found Rachel Berry to be his number 1. His eyes went wide and his nostrils flared in disbelief. Rachel Berry!? The girl who makes me want to light myself on fire is the girl I'm most likely to fall in love with!?

He trembled as he looked at the percentages.

1. Rachel Berry 97.8% 8.4%

"What!? And her first percentage is higher than mine!? Are you kidding me!?" he whispered to the paper in incredulity. His upper lip rose in disgust as he looked at the paper. He looked at the paper and found out that Santana Lopez was only number 26 on his sheet. Did I answer that thing seriously?

No, he undoubtedly had answered the questions honestly. He was expecting to see all the second percentages to be higher than the first to show his studliness. Rank number 2 didn't even come close to Rachel's percentage. They only got a 76%. On the plus side, he had scored a 95% on their list. So, how was their only an 8.4% chance that his rogue-ish charm would work on Rachel Berry, the insane girl obsessed with fame and talent. He had to know who had actually scored higher than 80% on her list.

Maybe she was just so weird that her affections were only toward dorks like that afro kid he was flicking tiny papers at. That had to be it. There was no way that she was actually immune to his charms, I mean they made out. She had to like him. He huffed. Screw personalities. His prowess was far better than any guy at the school anyway. Let's see, Glee Club is next period, and she usually leaves the room to go to the bathroom, so maybe while she leaves her stuff in the room I can— He stopped his thought process abruptly. He hit his forehead with both hands and ran his fingers through his hair.

What am I thinking? I was the one who thought the matchmaker was stupid! Why am I getting worked up over it because some insane girl is ranked number one on my list, higher than all the hotties in the school. Yeah, why should it concern me? She obviously lied on hers.

And then, the girl ranked number one walked in. Of course she was draped over Jesse's arm, talking about their newly purchased letters from the devil. (The Student Council)

"I'm so happy that we're ranked number one on each others lists!" Rachel said proudly as she displayed her page to him again as if it were one of the greatest things known to the world.

He smiled down at her. "Of course we are; there's no one better suited for us than each other," Jesse smirked at Puck while he said this.

That bastard. He saw my matchmaker. He glared at Jesse with steam blowing from his ears and nostrils. Puck turned away and snuck a peek at Jesse's matchmaker from the corner of his eye. He nearly fully turned and gawked at what he saw.

1. Rachel Berry 100% 100%

He never thought that two people could be so perfectly fated to be together. It ticked him off just a little that Jesse St. James' charms have more than 10 times a chance than his charms of working on Rachel Berry. He turned away bitterly and breathed through his nostrils.

Why should he care?

Ok, a matchmaker is a test that was literally, mandatory at my school to fill out. I had no idea why, but they required us to fill one out whether we were being honest or not, but surprisingly a lot of the people at my school took it pretty seriously, but it was always interesting to see the different percentages and to see who was number 1 or who was your most opposite. The "test" is about 30 questions. 15 are about your preferences, and the other 15 are basically about who you see yourself as, and I guess they use the answers and plug them into some formula. (To be honest, I think the tenth of a percent is a piece of a crap, and they probably just added that in for effect). By the way, the "clever" poem at the beginning wasn't mine. It was made by my school's student council.

I wasn't quite sure how to end it. Is it obvious? :P

And, this is the end of the really long author's note. It will self-destruct in 6 seconds.