I am sorry it took a while. But I felt that in light of recent events, it would be best to wait a bit before updating again. The news made me absolutely sick to my stomach.
However, I have decided to put a lighter chapter on, a bit more mundane, perhaps. I'll try to avoid the heavier topics for a few days, outline be damned.
If you feel like it's best for me to wait a few days more, please tell me.
Summary: McKinley High goes on lockdown with Marley and Kitty stuck in the choir room together. Karley.
Characters: Marley R. and Kitty
Rating: T
SHOOTING DAY, 6:25 A.M.
"Marley!" Her mother's voice pierced the still morning air, and Marley turned over in bed, grimacing and rubbing her eyes. "Marley, it's 6:30, we need to get going!"
"I'm coming, Mom," she promised, and went right back to sleep, the dull morning light prodding at her eyelids.
"Marley!" Her mother came in a few minutes later, shaking the covers off. "Wake up!"
"Yes, Mom," Marley said and got out of bed, her head pounding. The rush of blood to her head made her slightly faint, and she gripped the edge of her bed and made her way around, picking up the clothes she had laid out the night before. She made her way to the bathroom, and when she emerged, her mother was already standing by the door with an impatient expression.
"Marley," her mother said quietly and held out her jacket, which Marley gladly accepted. They got into their car and drove towards the school, her mother trying to initiate some conversation, but Marley was tired and unresponsive.
They arrived at the school, and Marley jumped out of the car and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek, who drove off to the employee parking lot. She shouldered her bag and walked into school, feeling the gust of warm air hit her in the face.
She looked at the giant clock hanging in the hall before heading to her locker, and sighed when she realized it was twenty minutes before class started. When Glee still existed, she would simply go to the choir room and sit there, doing her homework or whatever. But now Glee was gone, and she had nowhere to go.
She decided to sit on the steps out front and after retrieving her books strode over there, the cold concrete rubbing uncomfortably against her skin. It was so much warmer inside, but the cheerleaders and the jocks dominated the cafeteria before school, and Marley was not about to walk in there and practically demand a slushy to the face. She was wearing her favorite sweater today. It wasn't worth it.
The first bell rang and Marley got up, shivering slightly. She walked to class and sat down, the intercom's announcements blaring obnoxiously over the speakers. "Chess Club will be meeting…" the loudspeaker blared, but thankfully it was disrupted by static.
"Since the loudspeaker isn't working, we might as well start class," Marley's English teacher said, a tall, lanky fellow named Mr. Curtis.
Marley sighed and opened her notebook, copying down the uses of symbolism in the Merchant of Venice. "I'll be handing out your last essay in a couple of moments," Mr. Curtis said and began digging around in his desk, presumably for the essay. "Here we go," he said triumphantly and stood up, passing papers around. "This is the one about the Quality of Mercy," he added .
That one. Marley had spent several long, tedious hours working on that damn essay, and she sure as hell hoped it had paid off. English had always been one of her favorite subjects, but now it was just too much work. She didn't particularly care too much about the literature they were reading, and although the Quality of Mercy was, she supposed, 'pretty', it still wasn't increasingly fascinating to write about.
"Miss Rose, I have to say I'm a bit disappointed," Mr. Curtis said, startling her out of her thoughts. He handed her the paper with a slightly sour expression his face.
Marley turned the paper over to see the grade, and her heart sank. C-, it said, and she needed good grades. If she didn't get good grades, she couldn't get a college scholarship. If she didn't get a college scholarship, her mother sure as hell couldn't afford it. And if her mother couldn't afford it, she couldn't go to college.
She'd never get out of Lima.
She'd never do anything useful with her life.
She sighed and put the essay away, taking a pen out and flipping to a blank page in her notebook. Ask Mr. C for corrections, she wrote and sighed again, putting her head in her hands. Hopefully a C- wouldn't drag down her quarterly grade too much, but she was already at an 83% and she needed to have a good GPA.
She sighed and began taking notes as her teacher droned on and on, her brain slowly beginning to tune him out as she grew steadily more tired. She knew should've gone to sleep earlier….
Her eyes snapped open as she realized she had nearly been dozing off, and the shrill bell rang in her ears. She stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to Mr. Curtis's desk, trying to smile. "Mr. Curtis?" She asked, looking down hopefully as the teacher peered up at her through his glasses.
"Yes, Marley?" He asked, and Marley swallowed.
"Could I maybe correct my essay?" She asked, smiling weakly. Mr. Curtis looked at her and raised his eyebrows.
"Feel free," he said, his tone dry and humorless.
"Th—" Marley began to say, but he cut her off harshly.
"It's not going to raise your grade, though," he said simply, and Marley's smile faltered.
"Mr. Curtis—" she began to protest, but he held up a single hand in blatant refusal.
"Stop speaking, Marley," he said harshly, and his expression was carefully blank but irritated. "I can't help you with your grade, you know that." He sighed and opened his laptop, beginning to type.
"What about extra credit?" She asked desperately, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
"I can't give you special treatment, you know that," Mr. C sighed again.
"I know, but couldn't you—"
"Miss Rose." Her teacher closed his laptop forcefully and stared at her with an irritated expression. "You know you deserved that grade."
She nodded.
"You know I can't help you with it."
She nodded again, then sighed and straightened her bag strap. "Alright," she said, her voice dull.
"You better get going," Mr. Curtis advised her and pointed at the clock. "It's 9:54, you're already going to be late."
"Damn," she hissed and took off shouting, "Have a nice day!" Over her shoulder but not truly meaning it.
She arrived at her locker in record time and fumbled with the lock, failing again and again at getting the combination right. Finally she got it and pulled the lock down, swinging her locker open and retrieving her books.
The bell rang, and Marley cursed inwardly. She was going to be late to History again.
It was 9:56.
She had two minutes left of peace.