Don't worry. This one actually has Victorious characters in it. Thank God.

Disclaimer: I don't, nor will I ever, own Victorious.

Chapter 3

Gigi's frantic screaming was tuned out by the woos and shouts of the people surrounding me. The second the show was over, and Gigi was dragged back into the ambulance, I was back in the dressing rooms, getting out of her dress and into my regular clothes.

But before I left to meet my aunt outside, my cell phone began vibrating furiously. I took it out to answer it, finding the word "RESTRICTED" flashing across the screen.

"Hello?"

I heard a hoarse, yet squeaky voice on the other line. "Did you really think you could get away with thievery?"

Oh, what now? "Gigi, if you want the dress back, you just gotta-"

"NOT THE DRESS, DUMBASS!" there was a short pause. "Well, actually, I do want the dress back, but...THAT"S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

My ears began ringing with the high-pitched screeches. "Okay, do you have to yell?"

She ignored me, yet lowered her voice. "Let's get something straight, puta. No one, and I mean no one, steals Gigi's spotlight."

Is she really trying to scare me? "Okay, technically, I didn't steal your spotlight. Your dancers basically shoved it down my throat."

"Whatever." she replied with a scoff. "Let me just give you a warning. Don't get too comfortable in Hollywood."

I squinted my eyes in astonishment. "Are you threatening me?"

"No," she denied in her syrupy, sugar voice. "I'm just warning you. You're little slutty, Chinese ass better watch itself. You have not heard the last of me."

Rage began seeping through my pores. As much as I wanted to cuss her out over the phone, I decided to what my mom always said, and take bitches like a lady.

"First of all, you ignoramus," I said in a cool yet firm voice. "I'm not Chinese, I'm Thai American. Second of all, if you think that you're little pathetic rant and immature vulgarity can be used on me as intimidation, then that ambulance is sending you to the wrong hospital. Demented Hills is in the other direction."

After a satisfying gasp on the other line, I end the conversation with a slamming down of my cell, walking out with a reassuring thought in my head. Well, the students can't be any worse than that!

.

.
.

I was in way over my head. The walls were the first thing that caught my eye in Hollywood Arts. They were brilliant, splashed with various colors and designs that would give you a migraine if you stared at them too long. All of the lockers had a different design on them, from art splatters to tap shoes to, what seemed to be, the tops of baby bottles, as if the student customized them on their own.

I was surrounded by the prodigies that they called students, playing instruments and dancing in the hallways like no one was watching them. Of course, I was.

After staring at everyone for a few minutes, I managed to find my way to my locker, which stood out horribly with its unadorned, gray paint over it. Taking my eyes off of it, I once again eyed all of the other students...their soul, their flexibility, their talent... which made me sick to my stomach.

Once I heard the eccentric bell ring, and saw everyone shuffle to their classes, I stood, frozen in front of my new locker. Once I thought I was alone, I shoved my head inside, letting the one thought roll into my head: What the hell was I doing here?

"Are you trying to hide inside your locker?" I soft, curious voice startled me, causing me to slam my head on the metal door while pulling out. I turned around, with now blurry vision, to see a girl no more than an inch shorter than me, staring at me with big, perfectly round, brown eyes.

"Because if you are, you won't fit. I should know, I tried it." She raked her pale fingers through her fuchsia-colored hair. "You're new here aren't you?" she asked me hopefully.

Is it really that obvious? I asked myself. "Umm...yeah?"

Her face switched from curious to ecstatic, clapping her hands nonstop and speaking a mile a minute. "Oh my God! I've always wanted to meet a new student! Well, actually, I did, cause Tori's a new student. Do you know Tori?"

"Um, no-"

"Well, she's new too! Wait, actually she's not new. I mean, she's been here for five months, but SHE"S STILL NEW! OMG, this is just like when my brother went to a new school, and he had his head shove in a locker, too! Well, actually, it wasn't in a locker, it was in a toilet. And, he didn't shove his head in there, a couple of boys did it to him, but-"

Wanting to interrupt her endless chatter, I stuck my hand out toward her. "I'm Charlie."

She took my hand. "Oh, your parents gave you a boy's name, that's cute!"

"Uh, no, it's short for Charlotte, but I-"

"Yay! I love Nicknames!" she took in a deep breath. "I'm Cat."

"Oh, like the animal."

Her voice switched from excited to offended. "WHAT"S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

Confused that she found that offensive, I responded. "N-Nothing. I-I love cats."

She went back to calm. Or calm-ish. "Me too! They're so cute-" she began walking away without finishing her sentence. Fighting the urge to just run the other way, scared, I ran toward her.

"Wait, wait, wait!" I called after her." I looked at my schedule. "You wouldn't happen to know where Mr..." I had no idea how to even pronounce the name. "Sick-o...Sick-a-wItes...?

"Sikowitz?" she corrected me, making it sound like "Psycho-wits." I have that class too! Follow me." she turned toward me. "Oh, but once you get to the door, duck."

I walked down the hallway, confused. "Why?"

She stopped at the edge of one of the doors. "You'll see." She gestured me to come forward. Once we got under the threshold she shouted, "DUCK!"

I obeyed her, dodging a pink, plastic ball that bounced hard off of the wall behind me.

"Miss Valentine!" I heard a deep, boisterous voice yell in front of me. "You're late!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she whined.

Getting out of my defensive crouch, I saw ,what I guessed was, my Improv teacher. He had a huge bald spot at the center of his head, and the hair that was left was pointing in a million directions. He was pacing the room barefoot, wearing odd-colored, striped baggy pants.

He turned to me suspiciously. "Cat, who is this intruder that you let in the classroom?"

"Oh she's a new student. That's...Cherry?"

"Charlie." I corrected. Mr. "Psycho-wits" looked stared at his attendance sheet. "Oh. Well, Miss Mckey, as Hollywood Arts tradition, every new student must answer questions about themselves for 15 seconds."

"Since when has that been tradition?" I boy with thick, curly hair and a wooden dummy in his hands asked.

"Since about 10 seconds ago." He answered. He gestured me to go up on the small, lifted stage, where I nervously dragged my feet toward. As I eyed the 30 people in front of me, I had the urge to sprint off stage and throw up. "Class, you've got 30 seconds to interrogate Charlie."

I looked at him, confused. "But it was just 15 seco-"

"AND GO!"

A blonde boy asked the first question. "What's your full name?"

"Charlotte Isabella McKey-Wang."

A brown-haired Latina asked, "what's the first thing you felt when you walked in this school?"

"'Damn, all these people are so talented. What am I doing here?"

She smiled. "Me too!"

A redhead went next. "How many crimes have you committed?" The whole class giggled.

"Seventeen." The look on their faces made me laugh. "No, I'm kidding. None." They sighed with relief.

After another handful of strange questions, I realized that it's been longer than 30 seconds. "Mr. Sikowitz, I think that was longer than 30 seconds."

He looked around, and realized something. "Oh, I forgot to start the timer!" I scrunched my eyebrows in exasperation.

"Okay." He continued. "Another Hollywood Arts tradition is that the new student does Drive-by improv In front of the class."

"Since when?" I asked him, wondering if he was doing this all just to humiliate me.

"Since I just thought of it." he replied, nonchalantly stabbing a coconut with a straw.

"But what's Drive-by imp-"

"You're a terrified dolphin!" He shouted randomly. "GO!"

Guessing that he wanted me to act like a dolphin, I flipped and shook around the stage, making the shaken, cute noises of a squeak toy. Despite how stupid I probably looked, the class seemed to love it.

"I'm not feeling the fear!" Sikowitz criticized, sucking the juice out of a coconut with a huge, bright-red straw.

I began jumping up and down like a fish out of water, with a terrified look on my face.

After the class looked like they'd die from laughter, Psycho-wits let me stop.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" I asked the brown-haired girl.

She smiled at me. "Sure, go ahead. I'm Tori, by the way. You're Charlotte, right?"

"Charlie. My friends call me Charlie." I looked at Psycho-wits, entranced by his coconut juice. "Is he always like this?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she said understandingly. "Always." She smirked. "Andre would be making so many jokes about him right now."

"Who's Andre?"

The second I said that, I heard the door creek open behind me. Tori lightly touched my shoulder. "There he is."

I looked behind me, eyes toward the now-opened door to see...

Oh. My. God.