A/N: *slap* *thud* *slap* Excuse me, this is just me hitting myself for not freaking updating in 3 weeks. I HATE MYSELF. I AM SO SORRY. I'm not allowed on the computer for long periods of time for some reason. Ugh. I'm sorry. Also, this chapter is such utter crap. I really have no excuse. Auditions will be next chapter. I decided that posting a shorter chapter after 3 weeks would be better than taking like 6 weeks. ~Rachel
Disclaimer: This is getting kind of old, but yeah, I don't own Pitch Perfect.
Cass tugged on her arm for the about the twentieth time, but damn. Stacie had an iron grip. She could try judo flipping the girl over her shoulder, but she really didn't want to get sued for breaking her roommate's back. She had tried almost everything, twisting her wrist out of the hold like she'd learned in self-defense, distracting Stacie with the mention of a hot guy, and promising that if she let go, she'd let her roommate have sex undisturbed for a week.
No luck with any, which was really surprising – especially when she turned down the promise of 7 days of undisturbed sex.
"Can you at least let go of my arm?!"
The response was a simple two-letter word. "No."
Cass resisted the urge to stomp her foot like she'd seen Sharpay do in about all of the High School Musical films, and instead collapsed into a sitting position onto the dirty concrete ground, causing Stacie to come to a stop.
Don't they have a campus clean-up crew or something? She wondered disgustedly as she eyed the various black blobs of chewed gum surrounding her.
Her nauseating thoughts were interrupted by her roommate tugging on her arm. "Get off the ground!" Stacie whined.
But Cass was stubborn as fuck, and kept her ass firmly glued to the ground.
"Not until you tell me where you're taking me. For all I know, you could be taking me to some perverted club with a bunch of sex addicts."
Stacie just gave her the cut-eye. "Look, just because I have a lot of sex, doesn't mean that I'm part of some sex addict club. There is no such thing as a sex-addict club anyway, I asked the dean to start one last spring, but he said no."
Cass blinked at her, before realizing that she wasn't really surprised.
Her roommate continued, looking around the campus as she did. "Anyway, hurry up and get off the ground, the Trebles are almost finishe- Hey, is that Donald?"
Cass' head snapped up involuntarily to look at the flirty dude with the hipster glasses who she now knew as Donald. He was currently beat-boxing to the chorus of "Thrift Shop" while another guy with brown puppy-dog eyes – who she presumed to be the leader – sang. His beat-boxing was so flawless, she ended up watching him for longer than she originally planned.
Turning her head back to face Stacie, Cass found that she wasn't there.
What the hell?
Cass swivelled around again to see her roommate walking over to Donald as the Treblemakers finished their song, abandoning Cass on the ground.
She rolled her eyes, standing up. At least she now knew how much she meant to Stacie.
She quickly stood up and made her escape (feeling like she was in some sort of James Bond movie while doing it), glancing furtively behind her before Stacie could notice and weaving her way around crowds of people.
Cass stopped beside the Quid ditch booth, catching her breath while glancing at the flyers spread out on the table. She was actually considering joining – Harry Potter was her childhood after all, – when a very chubby guy sidled up to her. She surveyed him, and to her horror, she realized that he was supposed to be Harry Potter, scar, glasses and all.
Childhood ruined. She immediately thought, staring at him openly in blatant repulsion.
"Hello mate, er, interested in joining?"
Her grimace became even more resound as the sounds of what she supposed was a British accent (but in all reality sounded more Australian) reached her ears. She was about to open her mouth to tell him so when a hand grabbed her by the wrist and she looked up to see herself face-to-face with a glaring Stacie.
Well, at least she was away from the grotesque view of her scarred childhood.
"Ow!"
"Shut up!"
"Are we really back to this again?"
"Shut up!"
"Why are we going over to the Trebl-mfflppggmpg!"
Cass was cut-off – very rudely, she might add – as Stacie's hand clamped down tightly over her mouth.
The Treblemakers looked over at them, staring with apparent confusion, yet amusement.
Cass rolled her eyes and licked Stacie's hand.
"Eww, did you just lick my hand?"
"Yes." Cass answered nonchalantly, blowing a strand of her light brown hair out of her face.
Hearing snickering, she glanced up to see the group of boys laughing at Stacie's dilemma.
"Oh, shut up," Stacie's snapped at them, wiping her hand on the hem of her skirt.
"Anyway," she continued, still wiping the saliva of her hand, "Guys, this is Cass."
Cass waved tentatively at the group of guys, raising an eyebrow when they plainly checked her out.
Perverts and their hormones.
"Cass, this is Unicycle; – Stacie pointed to a muscular guy with a curly afro who was riding on a unicycle – (Everything made sense now.) Benji; – she gestured to a freckled lanky kid wearing a magician's cape –; Jesse, the leader of the Trebles; – she nudged the boy with the brown puppy-dog eyes who Cass had guessed to be the leader earlier – Greg, Kolio, Hat, Brian, Steven...
Cass zoned out a little, nodding and waving at each Treble in turn, freezing when she heard Stacie call the last name.
"And, Donald."
Cass slowly turned to face Donald, biting her tongue and plastering a fake smile on her face. The boy in turn smirked that annoying fucking attractive smirk and nodded to her.
"We've met, you're the girl with the nice ass." He said nonchalantly.
Cass gritted her teeth. Stupid fucking arrogant douchebag.
"And you're the dude with no attractive qualities whatsoever." She said sweetly back.
The Trebles laugh quietly behind Donald, and Cass smiled in satisfaction. She saw something flash in Donald's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
Amusement? Anger? Embarassment? She had no idea.
Stacie glanced at her amusedly, and looked back to Donald.
"So, Don, why are you here? I swear you were supposed to graduate last year."
The beatboxer blushed – yeah, Cass couldn't believe it either – and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
It was admittedly attractive. Holy shit, kill me now, she thought. I've gone crazy.
"Uh... yeah, about that... IskippedallmyclassessinceIwasdoingstuffandnowI'veg ottoredomysenioryear."
Cass barely caught what he said, but apparently Stacie understood full well what he was trying to say, as she smirked and nodded her head understandingly.
She tried to figure it out in her head.
Donald skipped classes doing 'stuff'. Stacie was understanding. Stacie liked sex. Stuff. Sex. Stu- oh. Stuff = Sex. So basically, Donald had to redo his senior year since he skipped classes to hook up with girls.
It made perfect sense.
...
What a manwhore.
Cass arrived at the Barden Bellas booth after being aggresively and inappropriately man-handled there by Stacie. There were a crowd of girls at the booth, who she automatically knew were the Bellas themselves.
There was a petite brunette with a very interesting ear spike on her right ear, an African-American girl with red hair who had her arms around a brunette with wavy hair, a big blonde with a... unique ponytail, another wavy haired smiling brunette, and finally, a perky looking blonde.
Stacie strutted over to the girls, dragging Cass in her wake, immediately introducing her to them. She quickly learned that the alternative looking girl was Beca, the big blonde was Fat Amy (and yes, she insisted that Cass call her Fat Amy), the African-American was Cynthia Rose, whose girlfriend was Denise. The other brunette was Ashley, and the perky blonde was Jessica.
Stacie continued on excitedly. "So, guess what Beca. Cass is a beatboxer, rapper AND a dancer. She can choreograph our routines, and help us make up for Lilly and Chloe!"
Cass shifted uncomfortably as the Bellas looked at her with renound interest. Beca immediately swooped down on her.
"You can beatbox?"
"Yes."
"You can rap?"
"Yes."
"You dance?"
"Yes."
"What kind of dance?"
"Mostly hip-hop."
Beca squinted up at her as the other Bellas looked on excitedly. She felt like she was being interrogated by an FBI agent.
"Beatbox for us." The petite brunette finally said.
Wait, what?
"Uh... I can't beatbox without music." Cass lamely replied.
It was then that Stacie –the ever helpful Stacie- decided to speak up.
"Then we'll sing, and you can beatbox for us." She added. The other Bellas nodded in agreement.
Well, shit.
A/N: Yeah, horrible ending, I suck lollipops. I know. ~Rachel
