"Tell me he's hot one more time, and I swear I will pull out all of your hair," Nick Duval groaned, gripping the strap of his bag harder as they walked to the last period of the day.
"But he is!" his friend insisted.
Nick raised his hand to slap her in the back of the head, then thought better of it. Really, he decided, what was the point? Rachel didn't care that he didn't find teachers attractive, and that maybe it wouldn't matter even if she kept saying it—the result of denying it the first few times she said it. All Rachel cared about was figuring out the next song to sing in Glee club, rambling on about how perfect Finn was, and complaining that he didn't see her the was she saw him.
Residing to his locker—which was in one of the tiniest, gabled corners of the second floor that his friends had deemed "perfect" for him due to the fact he was tiny as well—Nick reminded himself that Rachel only meant well. Usually, it just seemed like Rachel's non-stop talking was her pathetic attempt to get attention from anyone and everyone.
Nick stacked his unneeded books in his locker and grabbed the ones for last period. Everything was going to be fine. He could make it through the rest of the year. He didn't exactly have a choice—so there was no point in getting upset. Especially since he had no true plans for the future yet anyway.
As if on cue, his head cheerleader friend, Quinn, started ranting at Rachel.
"We all know what happened when you crushed on Mr. Shue" she groaned, leaning against the locker next to Nick's.
"Why can't you just go away?" Rachel scoffed. They didn't exactly get along too well.
"Nick, she's being a bitch again" Quinn whispered at him.
Nick sighed. He knew what was coming next.
Within seconds, he could hear the bickering between the two getting louder and louder. Quinn yelling at Rachel, who yelled back, and Finn—of course—coming in to break it all apart. Finn dragged Quinn away. The jealousy from Rachel was coming back again.
Nick slammed his locker and gripped his books tightly.
All he wanted was some peace.
Okay, and maybe some new friends.
Jeff Sterling took another sip of his coffee and contemplated his bangs and if they were appropriate for a teacher. They were unforgiving bangs. Bleach blonde and shiny, they were cut across his forehead as if Justin Bieber was trying to perfect his hairstyle by trying it on other people.
The bangs, along with his buttoned-too-high Oxford shirt and perfectly ironed brand-new jeans contributed to the students' opinions that he was a child in a teacher's clothes. Then again, he'd only been there for less than a day, and students tend to have outrageously unfair first judgements. If they ever saw Jeff back in the Marines, it was definitely a character flaw they'd have to work on adapting to.
"Everybody take your seats" Jeff found himself saying as the students walked in—the last period of the day, thankfully. First days anywhere were always pointless to him. He'd rather just dive in and start doing.
"These won't be your permanent seats, of course, you'll be seated alphabetically."
He could see the students physically deflate. Of course, children want to sit near their friends. To chat away and do absolutely nothing. Rarely would they want otherwise.
"Alright, attendance" he sighed, opening his computer and clicking to this period. "If I mispronounce your name, I apologise. If you have any nicknames, tell me. But I'm not calling you something idiotic."
A disinterested classroom let out a forced chuckle. Yeah, Jeff didn't think he was funny either. Other teachers seemed like tough I-take-shit-from-no-one people, so he figured he might as well be the opposite. Right?
After a row of attendance, and thankfully simple names, he couldn't help but be a bit more interested in a certain name.
"Oh, uh, here."
Jeff always hated improper diction. Stuttering, stammering, mispronouncing, it was amazing he wasn't an English teacher. He lifted his head up to look at the source of the voice, smiling politely.
"You're…actually in the right seat. And do you go by Nick?"
"Y-yeah, I do."
Jeff didn't let the small sneers of the rest of the class go unnoticed, nor the nervous tapping Nick did on the desk, but he just decided to drop it. He just nodded a bit and looked back at the computer to go through the rest of attendance.
"And you're all here. Super. Now, I'm Mr. Sterling, or Mr. S, whichever you prefer. But, let's get into the fun stuff…"
The noise of the rest of the class faded behind him. It seemed like forever—or only minutes—that Nick had been in the class, the looks from others getting more and more judgmental the longer he sat there.
He was falling fast, he knew, and for god's sake, it was a teacher, but it didn't even matter. For a few moments it was just like a falling dream, sensational and wonderful.
Then reality smacked him in the back of the head—or maybe it was a ball of paper—the laughter of the room slicing viciously into his thoughts. He was different, he knew, and so did the rest of the class.
The ball of paper rolled underneath his seat, and up to the front of the room. It stopped at the corner of the teacher's desk, and Nick swore he could hear whoever threw it gulp nervously.
Perfect. Mr. Sterling didn't notice the paper, and Nick's shoulders slumped in relief. Who knows what they wrote about him in there? Probably that he was a fag. It's usually what it was.
The bell ringing was a relief to everyone, all the students hopping out of their seats and rushing out of the classroom. Nick, however, took his time. Totally not to get a better look at the teacher, no, never. He straightened out his books, picking them up and starting out the door.
"Hey, Nichola-I mean, Nick."
Crap. Nick spun around and smiled politely at the teacher. Was he already in trouble? Did the teacher actually see and read the note?
"Do you get bullied often?"
Of course he'd notice.
"N-no, never" he said softly.
Nick was always a bad liar, and he could tell the teacher didn't believe him because of the narrowing of brown—mother of god—eyes.
"Well, okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Nick."
Nick nodded and hurried out of the door. Maybe he could make it to his locker unnoticed, without confrontation from Rachel or Quinn or a dumb jock that wanted to rip every single one of Nick's hairs out.
After a few minutes of sorting through his locker and deciding what he needed, he slipped out of the door closest to him and heading to his car. His car was his dad's old one, the one they worked on fixing together because it would "bring them together" or whatever. Nick didn't understand it either.
"You'd think people would get less crude the older they get."
Blaine was what Nick considered to be one of his closest friends. And maybe he lived a few towns over, and they've met once on a stroke of luck, but that didn't really matter. Nick was laying on his bed, laptop perched on the edge of his bed as he was doing his homework.
"Hate to break it to you, B, but they don't" he said with a scoff, the blurry figure on the screen laughing and shaking his head.
"So your first day was horrible, I'm guessing?"
"Not...all of it."
Blaine raised his "totally not triangular" eyebrows.
"What happened? Tell me."
"Nothing happened. It just didn't suck as much as normal."
"Nicholas Duval. Tell me."
Nick shook his head, smiling slightly.
"It's a guy."
If Nick could, he would smack Blaine for the squeal that came from his lips.
"Oh, shut the hell up" Nick groaned.
"Who is he?!"
"Love isn't silly."
"You fell in love with Kurt over webcam."
"That's not silly! Tell me who he is."
"You're gonna laugh."
Blaine clicked his tongue, making an 'X' over his head. "Cross my heart that I won't."
Nick let out a short sigh. He knew Blaine didn't know who his teacher was, but how could he know he wouldn't tell Kurt?
"He's uh...kind of my biology teacher."
He could see Blaine muffling a laugh, and he narrowed his eyes at him through the screen.
"Oh thank god. I would've hurt you."
Nick forced a small laugh and pretended to check his phone. He knew Blaine would think it was silly. He knew he couldn't, wouldn't tell anyone anyway. It was silly, a pathetic crush that would pass over quickly.
"Dude, I have to go somewhere with my parents for a bit. Talk to you later?" Blaine sighed.
Nick nodded, waved slightly, ended the call, and flipped over on his bed with a groan. Maybe he could blame this on raging teen hormones. Or something like that.