(AU HS 1)

A/N: I've a feeling this is going to go on for a while. As long as the urges come, I guess. Originally I planned for Peter Pan, but this spawned...I have a rough idea for a Little Mermaid one, but since I've read Kite Runner and what we're learning and global studies, next will probably be an Aladdin fic. This a multichapter fic. Keep in mind I haven't finished it yet but I've written A TON of it. So, be warned there is some foul language and inneudendos, so those of you with sensitive, er, eyes, don't say I didn't warn you.

First Story: Beauty and the Beast

AU:Modern Day Highschool

Summary: Belle is the secretary of book club, the number one student on the honor roll, and the daughter of Maurice, the town drunk. Adam is the richest boy in town, star of the baseball team, prom king, and best friend to his second, Gaston. When Adam gets in a car accident disfiguring his face, the prince has no one to turn to. For who could ever love a beast?

Begin:

(Adam)

Gaston was laughing heartily, while I watched, partway disgusted, as he kept dunking the kid's head in the toliet bowl.

"Say you like it."

"N-" the kid started gurgling as Gaston forced his head under.

"C'mon, you little fag, say it."

The kid was crying, his black hair soaking and big nose running. I didn't think I could stomach this much longer.

The poor kid liked Gaston, there was no mistaking it. Weekly Gaston beat the crap outta the guy. Lefou? I couldn't remember. Week after week Gaston dumped trash on his head, threw him the pool after gym, pantsed him to nothing in the hall, and did...this. Week after week the kid still did Gaston's homework, bought him lunch, and made googley eyes at him during math.

The kid surfaced again.

"Say you like-"

"Gaston," I warned. Gaston brought his gaze to mine. Leaning against the stall door, I checked my reflection in the mirror. My curly gold hair swept back, curling at the nape of my neck. My letterman swetter sleeves rolled up, faded levis hanging low on my hips. Gaston looked similar, dark hair pulled back with a band, letterman all the same, black jeans sagging just below the waistband. We looked like kings.

No. We looked like gods.

And everyone knew it.

"The girls are missing us, man. And I wanna eat."

Gaston let go of Lefou's neck with a smile, and the boy dropped to the floor, shivering.

"Dibbs on Claire today," he exclaimed, darting out the bathroom door. I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure to look carefree. Lefou would be back with our books any minute.

"Wait, which one am I dating now?" I asked.

Gaston laughed, deep and throaty. He had a foot on me, and I always wondered why I was better at sports than him. It was simple, really-I was dedicated. While I was doing laps, Gaston was behind the field house with Carrie.

Claire, Carrie, and Candace. The triplets. Claire was captain of the cheerleading squad...I think. All of them blonde, curvy, and dumb as rocks. When I'd been reading Julius Cezar a few days ago, I'd had to listen to how hot the threm of them thought Leonardo Decaprio as Romeo was. I shuddered. I did my reading at night now.

"Who'd you take out last night?" Gaston asked, pulling me back to our conversation.

"Which one has the cute birthmark on her thigh?"

"You slept with Candace while you're dating Claire?"

"Damn, how do you keep them all straight?!" I exclaimed. Gaston chuckled again.

"I don't keep straight. I keep em flat. On their backs."

I rolled my eyes. Sure enough, the girls were waiting for us when we stepped out into the quad. Food on the table. Claire was in pink, her hair pulled back, and the second I sat down, she situated herself on my lap, her strawberry-glossed lips gliding over mine.

"Hey, sexy," I smiled, pushing my hand under her skirt.

"Adam..." she purred in her whiney voice, coming out Ahh-duum!

She was really so annoying.

Gaston was eating out of Candace's hand. Literally.

And grapes, go figure.

Maybe we really were gods.

Lefou came back with our books, and I busied myself with Bronte while the girls left for cheerleading practice during lunch.

Gaston whistled. "Say, man, you ever think of slumming?"

I snapped up. "Why?"

He jerked his head. "For that piece of woman over there." He howled as I turned around.

Dark hair, messy, pulled back with a ribbon. Dark eyes, not doe. Skin wasn't tan and wasn't pale, her lower face was hidden by a worn book.

"She's so...plain. What the hell are you so on about?"

"Try telling my pants she's plain. God, that girls goregous."

"What's her name?" I asked, returning back to my book.

"Lefou," Gaston urged.

"Belle," he squeaked, turning red that Gaston had called on him.

"Belle," Gaston sighed. "Twenty bucks says I can get her to hit the sack before Christmas."

I rolled my eyes. "What a romantic."

"What? You think you could seduce the bookworm? They have morals and junk-you aren't exactly the type that make em go down and dirty, like me."

"Wanna bet?" I prodded.

Gaston folded his arms. "Yeah. You get her bagged before her birthday, take her to prom-you'll make that girl a star. If I get her bagged, I take her to prom, and she's mine. Forever. Got it?"

I looked back at the girl, dark eyes squinting in the sun at the book. Suddenly, she glanced up, and our eyes met for the briefest of seconds. I turned back to Gaston.

"You've got a deal."

(Belle)

"Don't look now. The jocks are staring."

Babet's perfectly manacured nails dug into my arm.

"Ow," I murmured, brushing her away. "So?"

"So? Adam is looking over here! The King Adam of homecoming! Does that mean nothing to you?! Oh, and Gaston! Gosh, I'm getting hot and bothered..."

"Boyfriend! Right here!" Lumiere screamed. I laughed, finally pushing aside Wuthering Heights.

Babet was dark skinned, her cocoa hair perfectly bobbed around her Marilyn Monroe's face. She had those sleepy eyes, heavilly rimmed with black crayon. Bedroom eyes. A little beauty mark dotted perfection next to her full lips.

Lumiere was tall, reed-like. Amber eyes dotted his creamy skin, along with his long, thin nose. His hair was gold and curly at the temples.

Cogsworth scribbled his math homework across from me. His greasy brown hair fell into his eyes. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and he was sweating in the midday sun. He was shorter, a bit rounder, too. Smartest boy I'd ever met.

Number two on the honor roll, just behind me.

Babet fanned herself, staring shamelessly at the popular table. "I can't help it! They're so gorgeous..."

Babet was a fanominal singer, captain of the drama club. Lumiere joined his sophomore year and well...they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Which got annoying.

"Belle? Are you listening? Gaston can't keep his eyes off you!"

"Gaston is Heathcliff-a bully and brute." I pulled out my Bronte for emphasis. "And I can't stand him."

Babet groaned. "But a brute in the bedroom..."

"I am right here!" Lumiere yelped. Babet giggled and apologized playfully, but I only heard half of it behind the bell ringing.

"Time for English. Joy," Babet droned.

"Some of us happen to like it," I interjected.

Babet wrapped her arms around her boyfriend, and Cogsworth pretended to gag.

"But parting is such sweet sorrow," she crooned, and I too had to turn before I gagged.

"C'mon, Babs, I'm leaving you!"

"Fine! Ugh! You could wait like a good friend," she groaned as we jogged into class. I didn't say anything in response as the bell rang again, signaling us to take our seats.

Babet whispered to me the whole hour about how hot our sub was, but I was straining to listen to what he was saying. Reading the roll call in alphabetically order by last name. Adam Princeton right next to Belle Quincy.

"Move to the alphabetical seats. No talking!"

"I take it back," Babet swore, grabbing her pencil-the only she brought to class. "The guy's a prude."

"Something to say, Miss Pontmercy?"

Babet gave a heil cezar. "No, Mr. Dictator, sir!"

"Principal's office," he commanded, red in the face.

"What I was hopin'. See you later, Bells."

The substitute turned back to me. "Want to join your friend, Miss Quincy?"

"N-no, sir," I mumbled, my turn to be red in the face.

"Good. Take you seat."

I sat down next to Adam. I swallowed as I noted Babet was right-he was staring at me.

"The assignment," the sub droned on. "Is a group project. Look at the person next to you. They are your partner. The book you pick is up to you, but the paper and presentation are due at the end of the month."

I fought the urge to groan. This meant spending time out of class with him.

Adam stretched,and slung his arm across the back the back of my chair. I didn't miss it.

"Belle, right?" He smirked. That smile was annoying.

"Right. We have three classes together."

"Right, of course," he smiled. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Any book idea?" he asked as I yanked out my notebook for notes. "What kind of books do girls like? That Twilight crap?"

"Ever read War and Peace?" I spit back.

"Let's stick to somthing that translated smoothly."

I blinked. Maybe it was common knowledge Leo Tolstoy didn't write in English.

How many people knew he wrote it?

How many people had heard of the book?

Whatever. Adam's grades weren't bad. He probably heard it somewhere.

"Scarlett Letter? Gone With the Wind?"

"Let's not get scandalous," he gloated, leaning across toward me, his body blocking my view of the rest of the class. I swallowed uncomfortably, leaning away, raising my book to shield myself.

"Bronte?" he asked, turning over Wuthering Heights.

He frowned. "Like Heathcliff?"

"I can't stand him."

"Cathy?"

"No. She's selfish, Healthcliff is a brute, Isabella's hairbrained, Edgar is vain beyond belief-"

"Don't hold it in, go on. Tell me what you really think."

I turned red. He was amused. Beyond amused. I balled my fists into my cardigan pockets.

"Stop making fun of me."

"Oh, don't worry, Princess. I'm not."

I frowned. "You are, and it's rude-"

Wait.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He smirked. "What? I like it."

"I don't, so don't-"

"Then it stays, Princess

."

The blush climbed higher into my face and I hated it. I hated watching his smirk grow with it. His blue eyes glowed with mischief in his tan, strong face. I leaned away.

"So what say you? We gon' go Bronte?"

I cringed away from him as he stole the book from my hands.

"Have you read it?" I asked.

I knew he had. The way he took my mentioning the character's in stride. He could probably use a monologue from it.

Not that Heathcliff seemed far from his personality.

"Can say it word for word," he chimmed, drumming his fingers across the hardback.

"Good, well. When will we...?"

"This weekend? Sunday, at the library? Eight at night?"

"Sounds good," I sighed. "See you then."

Yippee.

The ringing above dismissed us. Saved by the bell had never been more true.

Except for the fact I had to go home.

Time to face what I dreaded all day.

-x-x-x-

"Sure you can't stay?"

Babet gave me a pitiful look.

"Sorry, Bells. I gotta go to work. I'll take you with-"

"No," I sighed. "He'll be freaked out. Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime. See you tomorrow?"

I clutched

my arms around myself.

"Hopefully."

Unlocking the door, the stench hit me right in the face. I coughed.

He'd been drinking and bad.

"Papa?" I asked. "I'm home! Papa?"

He was in his bedroom. The door was open, the bottle in his palm half drained onto the bare mattress. His jacket was missing, and his eye was black. I didn't want to know how he'd gotten it this time.

Curled against his chest was a picture frame, and I didn't need to turn it over to know what was on the otherside. It was the picture of Mama in her wedding gown, smiling widely with a boquet of yellow roses, and her long chocolate hair falling in curls past her waist. She'd died when I was eight-it'd left our whole lives forever changed.

Papa had never been the same. At ten years old, I did the cooking and cleaning and washing. I took care of my father, when it should've been the other way around.

I loved my Papa very much, but one day I would come home and he wouldn't be here.

I bit my lip to fight the tears.

I couldn't open Wuthering Heights, knowing I would only find depressing l ives too similar to my own. Adam had asked me if I liked Cathy. Cathy, with her dead parents and drunken brother looking after her. I didn't.

But I could relate.