Yes. Yes, it could. Get worse, that is. As he finally regained freedom and got to get out of that room (which in too many ways reminded him of a stoned version of his sister) something cold and sticky sweet rained down on his face.
"What the fuck?" he burst out and tried to get the shit out of his eyes. As his eyesight returned he got to see half of the American football team with empty slushie cups in the hands. "What the hell is your problem, shit brains?"
"Trying to sound badass, pretty boy?" a black footballer said. "Then you probably should stop talking like the queen."
For a short moment Freddie wished that Cook had been there so they'd could have beaten the shit out of these twats. But alone he knew he wouldn't stand a chance.
"Welcome to McKinley High, loser!" some guy laughed and emptied the last of the slushies on him before they left him.
Freddie closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that it was a stupid idea to start a fight on the first day. He needed a smoke.
"Here", a short guy said and handed him a checked napkin.
"Is that how you greet everyone to this shit place, or am I just lucky?" Freddie said before he took the napkin and wiped his face off.
"Nah, you're getting special treatment for being in the Glee Club", the boy said. "Though that gorgeous accent of yours might have helped as well. I'm Kurt, by the way." He offered him his hand.
"Really?" Freddie said and shook it. "Well, in that case, it was nice meeting you, and goodbye."
"Wait, what?" Kurt said.
Freddie walked away as he answered. "I quit."
