Salutations, world! Sita here with the first actual chapter of her shameless rip-off of But I'm a Cheerleader. Uber-thanks to everyone who sent in their characters! I'm trying to at least mention everyone. Also, I figured out a way to give a few more people an actual part. *cackles madly over her corruption of a wonderful movie* Anyway. *holds up a massive sign that reads "Review Whore"*
Disclaimers: If you recognize the name, they're property of Disney. If you don't, they're property of their owner! Short, sweet, and semi-incoherent! ^-^
Warnings: Language, eventual slash, probably femslash as well
But I'm a Prep!
Chapter One
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
I heard the clock strike four and fought back a groan. Denton was taking forever to proofread my article. Zooey was gonna kill me if I wasn't there to pick her up.
Just when I was teetering on the brink of insanity, Denton looked at me and nodded.
"This is good, Isaac. Very good." He set it down on his already cluttered desk and smiled at me. I inadvertently winced away from the combined glare of his overly-white teeth and his gelled hair. "It's good to see the students of Grace King express their opinions about things that matter to them, and..."
I kinda zoned out. All I heard for the next ten minutes was a sort of Charlie Brown-esque "bwaaa bwa bwaaa bwa bwaaaaa."
"... and, you know, I agree with you completely. Religion classes should cover all religions, not just Christianity. I think I'll take this up with Mr. Pulitzer." He smiled again and told me that I was free to go.
With a barely repressed sigh of relief, I leaped out of the chair and raced out of Denton's office.
You know, I like Denton. Really, I do. Even though his hair looks like some kind of murdered wombat, and even though he wears those horribly disgusting bow ties, he's a nice guy.
But right now, I hate him with a burning, raging passion.
My girlfriend was going to gut me, and it was all his fault.
Panting, I raced upstairs, plowing through a bunch of freshman as I went. Hey, they were just freshman. It's not like they had actual feelings (A/N: No offense to any actual freshman who may be reading this. ^^;;;) Finally, I reached my locker, yanked it open, and began unceremoniously dumping various textbooks into my beaten-up, tattered, old black backpack (A/N: Anyone else remember that "Little, Black Backpack" song? Sorry, that was totally unnecessary. ^-^;;;).
"Hiya, Blink! Just the guy I wanted to see!" A hand grabbed the edge of my locker before I could close it. I glanced to my right and found myself staring into a pair of laughing blue-green eyes with a slightly evil grin to match.
Avery Anatevka, editor-in-chief of The King's Herald (our newspaper). Better known as Smartass. I sighed.
"What do you need, Smartass?" She put on an insanely fake puppy dog face before continuing.
"Wanna be my best friend and take my article to Denton?" She waved a crumpled sheet of paper in my face, and I rolled my eye.
"Look, I'd love to any other time, but I'm already late. I've got to go pick up Zooey," I explained apologetically. Smartass raised an eyebrow.
"She's got you whipped."
"Shut up," I muttered. "I don't have time for this."
"But you've got time to ogle a certain Mr. Connor Oberst?" She gestured to the Bright Eyes poster on the inside of my locker. I frowned.
"I wasn't ogling anyone. I just like Bright Eyes." Smartass' grin widened (if that's even possible).
"Keep telling yourself that, Kid. Just like I keep telling myself Tiger is sane."
As if on cue, a blond girl dressed completely in black trudged past us, staring intently at a small penknife in her hand.
"Heya, Tiger!"
"Uh."
"Good day?"
"Uh."
"Have you found a way to get those rabid armadillos out of your ass?" Hey, we don't call her Smartass for nothing.
"Uh."
Tiger opened the door to the stairwell and headed towards the front entrance. She never looked at us once.
Smartass smiled cheerily at me, shoved her article into my hand, and skipped off down the hallway.
"Thanks a million, Blink!"
I sighed as I looked at my watch. 4:27. I had precisely three minutes to make it to Central Park. I was never going to make it anyway.
So, I raced back to Denton's office and handed him Smartass' article.
Why? 'Cause I'm a nice guy. A gentleman, if you will.
I was finally able to leave the halls of Grace King High School without any further interruptions. With a sigh of relief, I leaped into my bright yellow VW Bug and raced towards Central Park at the speed of light.
Hey, you'd be surprised at how fast those little things can go.
After a few minutes of rather reckless driving where I flicked off quite a few people and almost killed a couple of pedestrians, I screeched to a halt a short distance from where the Grace King cheerleaders were practicing their newest routine. I mentally thanked whatever supreme being actually existed; their practice had run late, and I could, therefore, keep my intestines! Hooray!
A few seconds later, a mob of chattering girls in freakishly skimpy green and white cheerleading uniforms oozed towards their cars. I quickly picked my girlfriend out of the aforementioned mass.
Bridget Zewe, more frequently called Zooey due to an amusing mispronunciation of her last name, was an incredible girl. She was tiny and blond and kind of pale, so she often reminded me of a porcelain doll. Or maybe one made out of rubber. This girl was a definite dancer; she twisted herself into the weirdest positions all in the name of her first love: cheerleading.
What'd you think I was gonna say, you pervert?
"Hi, Isaac!" she chirped happily, climbing into the passenger's seat.
"Hey, Bri-" I didn't even finish my greeting before she grabbed my face and jammed her tongue down my throat.
I kissed her back, of course. I mean, I had to. It was the obligatory boyfriend thing that I had to do. I couldn't help but wonder if other guys felt this way when their girlfriends kissed them. You know, like it was something that they just had to do.
After a few very, very, VERY long minutes, I pushed her back.
"Hey, I gotta get you home, don't I?" She pouted a little, but nodded. We drove in relative silence. Not that I really minded. It's been getting harder and harder to talk to Zooey. We just... don't have that much in common, I guess. Oh, well. I love her anyway.
A few minutes later, we were in her driveway. With her tongue in my mouth. Again.
I didn't know how much more of this I could take.
*~*~*
"I'M HOME!" I yelled, hanging my coat in the foyer closet.
I realized that there was something wrong when nothing happened. Isaiah didn't come running into the room to tackle me. Izzy and Iris' latest practical joke didn't dump itself on my head or explode in my face. Ilyssa didn't yell at me to shut up because she was trying to read. Nothing. Not a sound.
"Anybody home?" I yelled.
"Isaac, come into the living room. We need to talk to you." My father's voice echoed through the foyer, and I felt my blood turn to ice. Why would my dad want to talk to me? He hadn't talked to me since freshman year when I started dating Zooey, and he told me to wear protection (which was kind of pointless, since we haven't done anything sexual).
Okay, Blink, one foot in front of the other, I told myself. I walked mechanically into the living room.
The television was off, and so was the stereo. I think that's when I first realized that there was something seriously wrong. There always has to be some kind of sound in the house. That way, my parents can avoid talking to one another. And if that didn't clue me in, the fact that my parents were sitting next to one another certainly did. My father was seated on one of the beige, leather sofas situated around the room. He was staring at me with a completely blank expression. My mom sat right next to him. She was gazing out of the glass door at the pool, and she looked generally pissed off. Ira glared at me from his designated spot by Dad's side. Izzy and Iris were standing by the fireplace, alternating between looking angry, worried, and confused. Ilyssa and Isaiah were probably upstairs.
I stared at my family.
"What exactly is going on?"
"This is your intervention, Isaac," my father replied immediately. I blinked.
"Intervention? Intervention for what?"
"Maybe I can explain." I turned my attention to some guy I'd never seen before who was standing a few feet away from my sisters. He had curly black hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing denim shorts that seemed a bit too short for comfort as well as a way-too-tight blue shirt that boasted the words "True Directions." He couldn't have been more than two or three years older than me, but he talked to me like he was some kind of father figure. He amiably extended his hand. "I'm David Jacobs. I work at a place called True Directions." I tentatively shook his hand and sat on the fireplace. Iris patted me gently on the back.
"Great. Nice to meet you, David, but I still don't have a clue what's going on." David directed his gaze towards my mom.
"Mrs. Cliffton, would you care to explain?" he asked gently. My mother glared at him. And my mother does not glare. You don't understand how scary this was. It was like... I don't know, Mother Theresa threatening to kill someone. It was just wrong.
"No, I would not care to fucking explain," she hissed.
Now, it takes a lot to get my mom even remotely agitated. And never, never, in my seventeen years on this earth, had I ever seen my mom get pissed to the point of having to curse at someone.
"Calandra, don't do this."
"This is your bright idea, Herman. You take care of it." My father sighed and turned his attention back to me.
"I'll be blunt with you, Isaac. Quite frankly, we think you're gay."
With that lovely, little phrase, my brain shut down completely. I couldn't do anything except stare blankly.
"Great, you gave him a heart attack," I heard one of the twins mutter.
"You... you think... I'm what?"
"Gay. Queer. A homo. A fairy. A fudgepacker. A butt pirate. A fa-"
"Thank you, Isabel, that's quite enough."
I suddenly had a flashback.
"But you've got time to ogle a certain Mr. Connor Oberst?"
"How the hell did you come to that decision?" Ira held up one of my CDs. I recognized it as Me First and the Gimme Gimmes.
"These guys are in drag, Isaac." I shrugged.
"It's a publicity stunt. People have done crazier stuff." Ira raised an eyebrow.
"They do covers of musical theater songs."
"So what?"
"So, what straight guys do you know who like musical theater?" I glared at him.
"Our mother is an actress! I got it from her! It's not that big of a deal!" I cried. My mother opened her mouth, probably to agree with me.
"Isaac, it's not healthy to pin your own problems on your mother," David said calmly. My jaw dropped.
"And who the hell do you think you are?!" I yelled. Everyone in my family blinked. I guess I surprised them. I'm almost always smiling and laughing; I hardly ever get mad. Kinda like my mom.
But my mom was pissed off now. And so was I.
Ooooh, was I pissed off.
"Isaac, I'm just trying to-"
"You think I give a flying fuck what you're trying to do?!"
"Language, Isaac!" I ignored my dad. I was on a roll.
"You burst into my house with your goofy-looking clothes and your touchy-feely attitude, convince my family that I'm gay, and expect me to be okay about it?!"
David waited calmly for me to finish and never moved an eyelash, which only pissed me off more.
"Well, why don't you just sit down for a little while and hear us out, okay?"
I sighed in defeat and collapsed back onto the fireplace.
"Now, you father has expressed some concern about your sexual orientation," David said solemnly, putting on his "I'm your best friend, everything's gonna be okay" face.
"How can I be gay when I have a girlfriend?!" David ignored me. Bastard.
"I work at a place called True Directions where there are people who can give you the help that you need and deserve." I glared at him.
"So, basically, if I go to this True Directions place, you'll teach me how to be straight, right?" David beamed.
"Right."
"Well, then, what's the point? I'm already straight!" David placed his hand on my shoulder.
"It's okay that you don't want to admit it. That's what True Directions is for," he said. He bit his lip like what he was about to say was so very painful for him. "I, myself, had your attitude when my parents sent me True Directions. But I'm an ex-gay now, Isaac, and soon enough, you can be, too!" I was about ready to explode.
"Look, I'm not going to a gay rehab center."
"You are, and that's final. Your things have already been packed," my father said nonchalantly. "You're leaving immediately." With that, he stood up, shook hands with David, and left the room. Ira smirked at me and followed. David nodded at me, smiled, and left the room.
"Isaac, you've got to believe that this wasn't my idea," my mother said quickly. "I am so, so sorry about all of this." She got up and hugged me tightly. I could tell that she was trying not to cry.
"Mom, do you think I'm gay?" She smiled sadly.
"Honey, I don't know, and, frankly, I don't care. I'll still love you no matter what you are."
I know it sounds kind of cheesy and really fifties sit-com-ish, but hearing my mom say that made me feel a little better.
"Thanks, Mom."
"No problem, sweetheart." She sighed. "I'd better go... do something, I don't know."
There were tears streaming down her face even before she left the room.
Izzy and Iris looked at each other.
"We're supposed to drive you over there," Iris said quietly. "Dad and David already put your crap in the car."
"We don't agree with this, Blink. We just want you to know that," Izzy said. Iris nodded vehemently. It was pretty obvious that they were still pissed about this whole stupid thing, but I couldn't help but smile. Izzy and Iris were the only ones in my family who called me by my nickname.
"I believe you." They both smiled and gave me a hug.
I followed them out the door towards the freak with the too-short shorts.
*~*~*
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered.
True Directions was composed of three large buildings, one medium-sized one, and one small one. The medium-sized building sat directly in the middle of the complex. It looked like it was straight of the cheesy fifties sit-com that I'd been talking about earlier. It was a kind of dark pink color with a neat row of colorful flowers in front. The roof was white, as well as the door and shutters. According to David, that's where the owner of the place and the employees lived. A larger building sat on either side of the house. They were completely identical, except for the fact that one was light pink and the other was dark blue. They were the separate dorms for the boys and girls. I could see the top of the third large building. It was dark green. That was where we'd be doing indoor "training."
I didn't like the sound of that.
Finally, there was one tiny building built like a doghouse. Which was what it was. David told me that if you got in trouble, you were sent to the Doghouse for a week. Solitary confinement. Hooray.
Izzy and Iris both clapped me on the shoulder.
"We'll find a way to bust you out."
With that final, hopeful comment, they leaped into their car and drove away.
I was left, alone, with a group of people who were convinced that I was gay. Well, my life was perfect.
"You must be Isaac Cliffton!" I tore my gaze away from the twins' rapidly disappearing SUV and looked towards the source of the voice.
A sort of scary-looking woman had come out of the middle building. She looked to be in her late forties, but I couldn't tell. The lady had obviously had gotten a couple hundred face lifts. She had curly red hair and was wearing a dark pink skirt and blazer that clashed horribly with said hair.
Spoke too soon. Now my life was perfect.
"Uh, yeah, that's me." I'd briefly considering denying it, but figured that it wouldn't do any good. It's not like I could get back home or even to one of my friends' houses; I had no idea where I was.
She smiled a completely fake smile and extended her hand.
"I'm Medda Larkson. Please, call me Miss Medda." Reluctantly, I shook her hand. "This is my nephew, Colin, and my niece, Kathleen." She gestured behind her.
The nephew was the epitome of male perfection. He was absolutely ripped. Muscles like that would look horrible on me, but he somehow managed to pull them off. He was reasonably dark-complected which fit well with his shock of curly, dark hair. He looked like he'd been taking fashion lessons from that David jerk (who'd disappeared inside the boy's dorm the second the car had stopped). His shorts looked like they were about to disappear up his ass, and his white tank top seemed like it had shrunk in the washing machine.
The niece looked like she'd stepped straight out of the pages of YM. She was tall, really tall, and had straight, dark blond hair. But what really got you staring were her eyes. They were huge and the darkest blue I'd ever seen. She was wearing a loose-fitting, dark green shirt, a pair of jeans, and one of those trinity knot necklaces. A silver one.
The boy and the girl reintroduced themselves and asked me to call them Mush and Ireland, respectively. Medda rolled her eyes.
"I suppose nicknames are popular at your school, too?" I nodded mutely. She chuckled in a very motherly way, but she wasn't fooling me with her, "hey, let's all be friends" mannerisms. "These kids and their fads. I allow them to call each other by their silly nicknames, but I refuse to do it myself." She smiled a huge, fake smile and gestured to the door. "Come inside my office, and we'll talk."
Numbly, I followed the crazy lady with the bad hair into the sit-com house and felt the last shred of my sanity flutter away on the wind.
*~*~*
I felt a small twitch developing as I glanced around Medda's office. It was a dark plum color with black chairs and a tall black desk. But the picture frames, the flower vases, hell, even the light switches? Pink. Bright, neon pink.
Medda folded her hands and stared at me.
"Now, Isaac, your father tells me that you're a homosexual." I sighed in exasperation. Why did everyone all of a sudden think I was gay?!
"Well, my father is wrong. I swear I'm not gay." Medda nodded slowly.
"You know, all of our students say that when they first get here. But I have high hopes for you, Isaac. You'll come around eventually." She smiled brightly.
I fought back the urge to claw her eyes out.
Have you ever been accused of something that you didn't do? Like cheating or something? You know how frustrated you feel when nobody will listen to you even though you really are innocent?
Yeah. Take that feeling, multiply it by a few hundred, and up the embarrassment factor a couple of notches, and you might have a taste of what I was going through.
I vaguely realized that Bad Hair Lady was still babbling.
"... so, until you're ready to admit that you're living a lie, you'll have to wear these." She reached behind her desk and produced a pile of grey fabric. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was actually a pair of pants and a baggy shirt. Both grey. Both pretty gross-looking.
The fact that she accused me of living a lie and the absolute horror I felt at having to wear that crap battled for authority in my mind.
The horror won.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I cried. "Christ, I wouldn't dress my dog in that! If I had a dog, anyway." Medda raised an eyebrow.
"Why does having to wear this upset you so much, Isaac?" My eyes probably bugged out of my head.
"BECAUSE I'LL LOOK LIKE CRAP!"
"And why do you care what you look like?" I stopped myself from ranting further, and stared at her suspiciously.
"What are you getting at?" Medda smiled brightly.
"Well, concerns about appearances are generally considered a feminine trait."
I stared at her.
"I just can't win with you people, can I?" She ignored me.
God, I hate being ignored.
"Here, Isaac. Go put these on, and I'll call Ewan in to come show you around."
Grumbling angrily and wondering who the hell Ewan was, I trotted off to the (VERY PINK) bathroom and yanked on the "pants" and "shirt," if those shapeless masses of cloth could even be called that. They were practically falling off of me.
I trudged back to Medda's office a few minutes later. She was smiling her huge, fake smile and there was a guy standing there. He had dark hair and eyes, an innocent kind of grin, and Twix bar. He beamed at me, swallowed his chunk of Twix, and held out his hand.
"Hiya!" he said cheerfully. "I'm Ewan Wyche, but everybody calls me Pie Eater. Or just Pie."
"Can't imagine why," I muttered dryly. He completely missed the sarcasm.
"Oh, it's 'cause I really, really, really like pie. And sweet stuff in general." He grinned sheepishly before hastily wrapping his Twix bar and shoving it in his pocket.
I think that's when I noticed how he was dressed.
Dark blue pants, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue tie. It was kind of frightening. Too much blue for me.
"All right, Isaac. Ewan will show you around the campus. When you've seen everything you need to see, come to the Training Building for a group introduction session!" Medda smiled once more before shooing us out of her office. Pie Eater grinned at me.
"I was all excited when Miss Medda told us we were getting another kid. I was all like, 'woo!' You know? Anyway, we all got here yesterday. We've already completed Step One. Oh, you do know about the Steps, right?"
I shook my head. I would have verbally told him, but something told me that I wasn't going to be able to get a word in with this kid. His eyes widened.
"Oh, then I better tell you, huh? True Directions is a five-step program. Step One is 'Admitting You're a Homosexual.'" He stopped by a long poster on the side of the building. It had a bunch of names in a column and boxes to check off. I noticed my name at the bottom. It was the only one without a check under the "Step One" column (gee, maybe because I wasn't gay). Pie Eater pointed to the poster like he thought that I hadn't seen it. I had a hunch that this guy wasn't too bright. A likable kid, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. "See? We all completed Step One yesterday. So, we got our uniforms instead of those grey things." He shuddered. "Kind of look like prison clothes, huh?"
"Yeah, and that uniform makes you look like one of the Von Trapp children," I muttered to myself. We continued away from the "V.I.P Dorm," as David had called it.
"We're not allowed in the V.I.P Dorm unless we're going to the Screening Room on the second floor," Pie Eater said solemnly. "We get in big trouble if we're in there without permission." His smile reappeared so suddenly, it was almost like it'd always been there. "That's the girls' dorm," he said, pointing at the large pink building on the other side of the V.I.P Dorm. "You'll meet the girls later on. And, erm..." He looked a little nervous. "If Slosh doesn't have her Lortab... watch out for her."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Lortab?"
"It's liquid Vicodin," he whispered. "She's nuts without it. And I can't even start to explain Colleen and Maureen to you. I'd better let Miss Medda do it." He nodded to himself and resumed his walk towards the large blue building. "This is our dorm," he said proudly as he opened the door. I stepped inside and found myself inside of a small foyer. It was blue. Everything was blue. The wallpaper, the rug, even the carpet on the stairs. Everything was the same shade of light blue. He beamed at me and led me through a door on the right.
It was a huge room with five beds. They were nice beds, actually. A nice room, too. Except, once again, everything was blue.
"They really believe in color therapy here, don't they?" Pie Eater shrugged helplessly.
"Guess so. You get used to it. You're in this room with Snitch, Skittery, Racetrack, and Spot. But be careful that you don't get caught doing anything... inappropriate." I raised an eyebrow at the nicknames and raised the other when he finished his sentence.
"What? You mean 'inappropriate' like... what, cursing? Or beating the crap out of each other?"
"No, he means 'inappropriate' like fucking another guy, you dumb shit."
Apparently, there was someone else in the room. I glanced at the last bed with a frown. The person lying on said bed ground out his cigarette on a nearby night stand and sat up. He was pretty short with dark hair and eyes. But he was one of those short guys that could stand up for himself and wouldn't take anybody else's crap. I could feel it.
Pie Eater visibly tensed.
"H-Hiya, Racetrack! Didn't see you there."
"No shit." This "Racetrack" guy eyed me warily. "You must be the new kid."
"I guess you could call me that."
"Ah. Nice to meet you." Even if Pie Eater was too dense to tell that Racetrack was being sarcastic, I definitely wasn't.
That Racetrack guy didn't like me.
And you know? I didn't really care. That was the least of my worries.
I decided to focus on how the hell I was going to convince these people that I was straight and get back to school with my dignity more or less intact.
But before that...
I had a "group introduction session" to attend.
Shoot me. Please.
End Chapter One
That... that was absolute crap. I apologize to anyone who had to read that part. But, whatever. *shrugs* Once I get more characters in, it'll get better. The students of True Directions show up in the next chapter! It'll be fun. *grins* Normally, I'd do shout-outs, but I'm exhausted just from writing this goofy, semi-incoherent chapter. *sighs* I'll do 'em next time. Reviews would be looooooverly! Even though this chapter sucked.... I need new muses.... *grumbles* Ah, well. *bounces off*