Enjoy my story! It's my first Glee Fanfic! Please read and review!
The worst thing about attending a school run by show choir stars? Everything is a production. So, the humiliation of receiving a slushie to the face and having her only pair of shoes stolen (in the same day!) were not private humiliations. Of course not. Not if Vocal Adrenaline had their way.
To be fair, Delilah's day started out perfectly. She woke up on time; her father slept soundly on the couch by the time she got downstairs. The sun shined down on her as she rode her bike toward Carmel High. Arriving at school, Delilah smiled as she checked her watch. 7:15, it read. Fifteen minutes, she thought to herself. Pleased to know she would have more than enough time to be prepared for class, the girl whistled to herself as she walked through Carmel's halls.
Bracing herself for the graffiti that, inevitably, the Vocal Adrenaline kids wrote on her locker over the course of the weekend, Delilah swallowed thickly. Hope they have new insults this time, she prayed, turning the corner. But, much to her shock, her locker was as clean as she left it on Friday. Groaning, she knew that mean they sabotaged the lock. Resigning herself to a detention for being unprepared for class, Delilah languidly spun the combination, knowing it wouldn't work. Shocked when the device sprung open on the first try, a laugh bubble to her lips. For once, things were going her way.
Grabbing her books from her locker and sticking them into her backpack, Delilah allowed herself to be optimistic for once. The girl pushed her way through the crowded hallways toward her World Philosophies and Religions class, smug with the knowledge that for the first time (possibly ever) she would arrive early for first period. But upon her arrival at M134, Delilah's sunny mood dissolved quickly as it came.
"Hey, loser," Sarah Cabot, lead soprano for Vocal Adrenaline, said, leaning against the door frame.
Delilah shrunk from confrontation with girls like Sarah Cabot. No good could come from a cat fight with the girls who ruled the school.
"Hi, Sarah," Delilah nearly whispered, fidgeting with the strap of her book bag.
The nervous girl took a step toward the door.
"You can't go in yet," Sarah said, looking at her nails.
Furrowing her eyebrows, Delilah let a look of confusion pass over her face.
"Why not?"
Sarah rolled her eyes as though everyone knew.
"We're studying Islam. No shoes. You have to leave them outside," she replied.
Delilah almost kicked herself for not knowing that. Though she couldn't remember Mr. Lynd telling her that, she sighed and slipped her Toms off, leaving them on the floor outside of the room. Appeased, Sarah stepped out of the door way with a sly smile.
"Have a good day," she purred before leaving Delilah alone in the classroom.
Nearly jumping when the door slammed behind her, Delilah took her seat in the front of the class, barefoot. Oblivious to the chuckles of students around her, she pulled her books out of her bag and dated her notes. Pen in hand, she doodled absent-mindedly on the borders of the lined paper, lost in her own thoughts.
"Delilah!"
The sharp voice of Mr. Lynd broke Delilah's reverie.
"Would you care to tell me why you aren't wearing shoes?"
The girl's head shot up as she looked around her. Every one had their shoes on. Not only that, but she saw the devious smirk stretch across Sarah Cabot's face as she high-fived the Vocal Adrenaline girl next to her. With a weak smile, she tried to make a joke.
"I thought it would help me study Islam better, sir."
Shaking his head, Mr. Lynd turned his back and faced the board.
"Islam is no laughing matter, Delilah. I know you are Jewish, but-"
Delilah tuned him out as he segued into their day's lesson. Stifling the urge to cry and scream at the same time, the girl closed her eyes and counted to ten. Slowly, she felt the need to punch a wall subside. However, frustration took it's place. When the bell rang, she struggled to catch up with Sarah Cabot and her possy of cronies.
"Give them back," she said, not afraid of confrontation at this point.
Sarah shot her an oh-so innocent look.
"Whatever could you mean?"
Attempting to level with the girl, she nearly begged.
"C'mon, Sarah. You know those are the only shoes I own."
In an essay for their AP English, Delilah revealed that little fact, thinking only Mrs. Maples would read it. Big mistake. Peer editing was the bane of Delilah's existence.
"I don't have them. Looks like you'll just have to buy another pair, won't you?"
Another mistake? Including in the essay that her father forbade her from buying anything for herself due to their significant lack of funds.
"Girls!" A voice shouted from down the hall.
Jesse St. James strutted toward the pack of girls, a severe look covering his features.
"You are not missing rehearsals because you got a detention for tardiness. Go to class. Ms. Corcoran would be appalled to hear about this, wouldn't she?"
At the mention of their coach's name, the Vocal Adrenaline girls scattered, leaving Delilah alone with the star of their club. He approached her quietly, as if afraid of scaring her off.
"Are you Delilah Puckerman?" He asked, terrified of calling her by the wrong name.
Delilah looked up.
"Yes," she responded simply.
Jesse tried to push down the feelings that bubbled inside him as he watched her fight back tears.
"Why don't you get to class?" he offered gently, lightly patting her on the back.
Mortified that he saw her losing her composure, she blinked back tears and looked at him.
"Of course. I'm sorry. Rough morning," she said, putting on a brave face and walking away without another word.
Watching her go, Jesse chuckled.
"And you might want to put some shoes on," he called after her.
Smirking, she shot back,
"Dully noted."
Walking away, her face blushing red, Delilah resigned herself to a perfectly awful day.
And an awful day it was. After spending the first half of her day barefoot, another beautiful addition to her wardrobe came along. Walking from her Art class to Health, a loud voice boomed through the hallway.
"Delilah!" It shouted.
Closing her eyes and sighing, Delilah turned to face her assailant. Joey DiMartino, Jesse St. James' wing man. Every pair of eyes in the hallway turned toward the girl. He smiled amiably at her, feigning friendliness.
"You look beautiful."
Delilah knew what came next.
"But I think you're missing some thing. How about a little splash of purple?"
The girl didn't even try to block the slushie from hitting her face.
"Catch you later, kid," he said, enjoying the sound of laughter coming from every person in the room but the one he covered in slushie.
Using her hand to wipe the excess grape drink from her face, Delilah sighed. The bell for class rang, but Delilah moved toward the bathroom instead.
"Don't be late for class!" Some teacher called out to her.
Ignoring them, Delilah walked into the bathroom. Grabbing up paper towels, Delilah washed her face off, trying to free herself of the sticky feeling that covered her.
"Perfect day," she muttered to herself, almost laughing at how naïve she had been when she got to school that morning.
Was it to much to ask for things to go easily?
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