Okay guys so this is the first 'official' chapter of the story! I hope you guys like it and yes, there is drug use and swearing and such in this one, so be warned! I do not own anything in this story! R&R please and give me suggestions and good feedback. Please and thank you! And here we go! :D
Slowly, my eyes opened groggily and I yawned, leaning up in bed. My blurry gaze shifted to my alarm clock, the culprit of the loud music filling the room at an almost deafening volume. The neon blue numbers angrily flashed 6:30 Am in their blocky digits. I yawned again and stretched my arms above my head, my nose sniffing the air. It was a sickly sweet and seductive smell, mixing the scents of my vanilla lotion, coconut conditioner, rolled and baggied primo weed, and smoked white widow. I sighed contently and swung my legs out of bed, then lazily loped across the room to my bathroom and hit the lights on. Then I turned the water on full blast in the shower and while I waited, I looked back into my room. My purple lava lamp was still on, sitting next to my open laptop on my desk across the room, my TV was still on MTV playing music videos, my black and purple Les Paul electic guitar leaned against the front of my plush black futon, and my ashtray and coffee table were covered in rolling papers and harvested marijuana. I grinned and hopped back into the bathroom and into the shower, sighing happily as the hot water slammed into me like a waterfall. I sang along to the music as I shampooed and washed up, doing little dances and air guitar solos. Finally, I finished up and stepped out, dried off, then applied my vanilla scented lotion, inhaling the sugary sweet smell greedily. After I finished, I quickly blow dried my hair and straightened it, curling the ends slightly then put in my stay-in coconut conditioner. Then I put on all my makeup, making myself look sexy in an adorable way, like a teen actress.
Once I finished my makeup, I looked over at the clock and my eyes widened.
"Shit!" I yelled and ran across the room to my closet, quickly grabbing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a black Up In Smoke Tour v-neck, my favorite pair of black and purple Adidas Adi Rise 2.0 shoes, and a faded grey Pink Floyd pullove hoodie that I recognized faintly as Puck's. Then I grabbed my studded, silver hobo bag from the hook on the wall and threw my phone, baggies of white widow and pills, rolling papers, my pack of Marlboro Lights, my custom Zippo lighter, and changing color bowl into it. I quickly checked that my wallet and lanyard with my keys were already in it, then hopped over my bed and ran out of my bedroom.
When I got downstairs, I quickly jogged into the kitchen and grabbed a Monster Khaos from the fridge, then ran out to the garage and unlocked my silver and white 2013 ZL1 Camaro. I easily slipped into the driver's seat and tossed my bag into the passengers seat, pulling my keys out first, and stuck the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine immediately growled to life then calmed to a soft purr, almost like a very happy kitten. An easy grin slid into place on my face as I popped the glove compartment and rifled through my CDs until I found Hell: The Sequel by Bad Meets Evil and popped it in. Immediately the car was filled with the opening melody as I pulled out of the garage and drove down the street. As I drew closer and closer to the prison they call High School, the more and more nervous I got until finally I pulled into an empty parking lot and lit up, rolling the window slightly down to let the smoke stream out the window. Slowly, very slowly my nerves calmed to a completely chill and stoned state and I was smiling slightly, recline in my seat.
"That is some gooooooodddd widow," I mumbled to myself, then snuffed out the blunt and dropped it out the window, then shifted the car into gear. I know, I know, driving under the influence is dangerous and illegal and blahbedieblah blah. But I have had enough expierence in the busy streets of L.A. and San Diego driving hig hadn drunk, so I'm pretty sure I can make it to McKinley in one piece...
And just when I think that, the asshole in front of me slams on their brakes, not giving me any time to really stop, though I do hit the brakes as much as I can. But of course, I still rear end them and I hear the crash and I whimper at the thought of my baby being damaged. So of course, being my naturally concerned and hot headed self, I swing my door open and step out just as the other driver gets out. I guess I didn't notice that the car in front of me was a red 2010 Mustang or that it had a McKinley Cheerios sticker in the window. So with my lucky, the owner of the vehicle that I rearended was, yes you guessed it, Quinn Fabray. And wanna know the first thing that comes out of my mouth when I see her?
"Fuck my life." Yep, that is so classy and elegant huh?
"Berry, what the fuck is your goddamn problem?! DOes your car not have fucking brakes?" Quinn yelled, waving her arms and jabbing her finger into my chest. I simply stood there, my hazy brain trying to comprehend what the fuck was happening.
"Hey, dipshit, are you even listening?!" Quinn yelled some more after I just stared at her like a completely stoned dumbass.
"What?" I asked and Quinn stared at me in disbelief and a majorly pissed off expression firmly on her face. Like, it looked like she was gonna bust a blood vessel or something... It was kinda funny actually.
"Were you not listening to a fucking word I was saying, you jackass!" Yep, more screaming from the blonde cheerleader as she got right up in my face. I simply nodded, staying mute in a justifiable fear of getting attacked by the HBIC, who I did notice, surprisingly was dressed in a Cheerio's uniform.
"You're so going to have Hell to pay, you tranny! You're paying for my repair bill to my car and I'm going to make sure you wish you were fucking dead! You got that ManHands?!" Quinn snarled, her face red and scowling, her eyes cold as ice.
"Got it Quinn," I said, trying not to sound high as fuck. Lord only knows what half the football team and both the hockey and lacrosse teams will do when they get orders to slushie their favorite drug dealer. Quinn sneered then spun on her heel and strode back to her car, briefly examining the damage that was barely even dented, then got back in the car and pulled away. I stood there for another moment then slowly got back in my car and sat there.
"Oh fuck it!" I said, grabbing my bowl and filling it to the brim then getting completely and totally smoked out of my mind. Cuz c'mon, Quinn usually follows through with her promises of hellish torture and I'm gonna need to be out of my mind high to deal with it.
Well, there's chapter one for you guys! Hope you enjoy and reviews are very much welcomed! :)