Um . . . hello there :)

If you were directed here due to an email along the lines of . . . [FF New Story] Getting Out Of Clovis, by 101EmilyRox . . . you probably have me on author alert, which means you actually read my crap, which means you're probably going, "OMG, Emily! Why haven't you updated Power of DVD yet?" SORRY! Life sucks, school sucks (we all knew that) and family sucks . . . :(

But, if you are here not from an email lease ignore of all that 'cause it probably makes no sense anyway . . .

Okay, Emily, shut up and get on with the AN. I've had this idea for a while now, and I finally got the time to write it :) This will probably be 'bout five chapters, but if I get into it and people actually like it, I might make a sequel. So basically, this is Darren coming from the future to meet teenage!Chris, and showing him that he's even more awesome in the future. :) And a ninja.

I'm not Chris Colfer. I don't know him on a personal level (*sigh*), so I don't know what he went through. All I can get is from interviews but this is FICTION people, but I'm certainly oblivious to what he did go through.

T for mild swearing and homophobic slurs. Sorry :(

*insert disclaimer here*

Chapter One: Meeting Mr Criss

Clovis, California.

No idea where that is? Nobody blames you; it is a big town with a small town feel out in the Fresno County. No one who comes from that town is famous or even mildly well-known; it's just a small town with the most awesome rodeos.

So, as you didn't know about Clovis, it is doubtful that you know about Clovis East High School. Obviously it's a high school . . . in East Clovis . . . for high schoolers . . . to learn stuff.

"Faggot!"

Not that kind of stuff.

Chris Colfer went flying through the air and onto the cold tiles of the cafeteria, his lunch tray landing on his head, its contents dripping off his head. A burst of laughter came from the closest table, the stereotypical jocks. Chris rolled his eyes and pushed himself back to his feet, wiping white sludge from his eyes as he walked on, now cautious of outstretched feet.

"You okay, Chris?" his best friend Annie asked as he sat down, helping his clean food from his hair and clothes.

"As okay as I can be," he groaned, splattering a chunk of something onto his plastic tray. "Why do they have to be so . . . so . . .?"

"I know, Chris," said Annie, resting her head in her hands. "How's Hannah?"

Chris groaned again, but there was a spark of something in his eyes, "She's getting better. Hasn't had an attack in a while, so that's good I guess, but she came home with a bruise yesterday. A bruise, Anne. She's the most careful person on this Earth."

Annie lent in closer, "Do you think —"

"I grilled her last night. They are. He is."

"Goddammit!" Annie smacked her fist against the table. "That stupid son of a —"

"Alex?" Stefan asked, sliding next to Chris, poking at the food with his plastic food with repulsion.

"Yup," said Chris, popping the 'P'. "He's gone and hurt Hannah."

"What!" Stefan shot up from his seat, before Chris pulled him back down. "Chris! This is your little sister! How can you not —"

"I ran out of all my angry last night. Now I'm just depressed."

Both Stefan and Annie held Chris in condolence, both loving little Hannah Colfer. They were like her siblings, Chris' best-friends since kindergarten. They'd been with him through everything, since he began to be bullied; they hadn't left him when he came out — for Christopher Paul Colfer was gay and proud of it. When they discovered she had epilepsy, they cared for her even more than they already did, if that was possible.

"We're coming over today to see her," Annie told him, stabbing a piece of green stuff that was slightly resembled a vegetable of some sort.

"No we're not," said Stefan glumly, shovelling a pile of white substance (mashed potatoes?) into his mouth. "Wheev gwot dewntewnshin wif Frasser."

Chris raised an eyebrow as Annie smacked their friend over the back of his beanie-clad head, "Swallow."

Stefan swallowed soundly before repeating, "We've got detention with Mr Frazer."

"That sucks," frowned Chris, poking the remains of his food around his plate. "What'd you do?"

"We 'spoke out of turn', apparently," Stefan scowled, his expression mirrored on the other two teens. "Anyway, what's happened today? You didn't meet us after Homeroom, Chris."

Chris ducked his head down, "Alex stuck a tampon to me back during roll-call."

"Bastard," Annie stated, as if finding the one word that summed up Alex Jordan.

"Preach."

"Come on," Chris stood up, taking both Annie and Stefan's trays to the bin, avoiding any extended limbs on this unnecessarily perilous journey. "We gotta get to Period Five before everyone else does."

The end-of-school siren pierced the air as Mr Frazer dismissed them with a loud "Homework due next Monday! Annie, Stefan, Mike, detention, now." Chris charged out, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and hurrying through the halls, looking down, avoiding all eye-contact as to get out of the school unmarked.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the warm sunlight, and hurried across the lot to his car. Slipping into the driver's seat he slipped the key in the ignition. A horrible groan and then a dramatic puff of smoke emerged from under the hood, students closest to the car wrinkling their noses at the disgusting smell.

Fuming more than the car, Chris stormed around to the front of the car and popped the hood. Instantly, he was engulfed in a plume of black smoke. What he saw almost made his heart stop. The entire engine was covered in a sickly white mush, a shoe was stuffed into an important-looking pipe and scattered around the parts were egg shells. Taking a closer look, Chris could see the oozing substance of egg yolk.

"Oh — My — God," he breathed, wide-eyed at the mess.

Then a person yelled.

"See ya, faggot!" Alex hollered from across the lot. Captain of the hockey team, it seemed like Alexander Jordan had made it his life duty to make Chris' life a living hell. The jocks' station wagon pealed out of the lot, yelling profanities and laughing as they swerved in clash of horns to avoid another student's car.

No car, Chris thought, no friends to get a lift from, mum and dad aren't home yet, Hannah's at dancing. He sighed, slamming the hood down and locking the car, making sure all of his valuables were in his (Chewbacca) backpack. I guess I'll just have to walk.

Great.

Clovis, Chris decided, was not a great place to walk. The streets were hot and steamy, basically devoid of any people (hey, the football was on) and the only noise seemed to be the teen's footsteps and the occasional cattle truck honking past. Scowling, Chris kicked a lone can on the side walk, sending it reeling across the small street.

"OW!"

He looked up to see a man with black insanely curly hair holding his foot, as if in pain; the rusted can lay at his feet. Chris gasped, "Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed at the man across the street.

The man looked up and smiled dazzlingly, "Nah, it's alright. I'm just milking it."

Chris laughed awkwardly, the way you do when a stranger makes a joke. He was about to continue walking when the man called him back, "Hey! Are you Chris Colfer?"

Said teenager turned back around, the man dodging an oncoming cattle truck and darting to Chris' side of the street. "Don't talk to strangers", came to mind. Now that the guy was closer, Chris examined him more.

He was a few inches taller than Chris, but still a pretty short man; Chris estimated he was about 23, 24 years of age. His curly black hair was even more curly up close, but it seemed to have been cut back a while ago in an attempt to tame it. Pink Ray-Bands were slipped through one of his belt loop, wearing a loose white shirt, jeans and scuffed converse. The man's hazel eyes crinkled as he smiled and held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Darren."

Chris looked at the hand before shaking it (after all, he wasn't exactly in a town of rapists and muggers,) "Chris, but I guess you already knew that. What can I help you with?"

The man — Darren — looked around for a moment hesitantly before relying; "You're going to think I'm insane. Like really insane. But please bear with me, okay?"

Chris was already sceptical; he crossed his arms but nodded as if to say 'Go on . . .'

Darren thanked him with his eyes (which Chris noticed were a lovely hazel colour) and continued. "I'm from the future and — hey, wait!"

Chris was already walking away from the man, heading home, but Darren continued to follow him. He grabbed Chris' shoulder and the teen whirled on his heels. "What do you want?"

"I want you to listen to me!" Darren practically begged, stopping Chris. "You're a — a, well . . . you! You know yourself; you're kind of a . . . nerd."

He should have been offended at that, but Chris agreed, he was a nerd. Hell, he was wearing a Chewbacca backpack!

"And — uh . . . man, I didn't think this far ahead. Please just listen without calling the asylum, okay? Kay, um . . ." Darren took a deep breath. "I'm from the future. 2011 —"

He held back a snort.

"— and I work with you . . . on TV."

Chris gasped.

Like it? Hate it? Review it!

Updates may be slow; I'm currently attempting to write a legit novel. Argh! At school, we have to create our own theme park. I'm making Glee World. It's SO awesome at the moment, I wish it were real. I'd totally go visit, hell, I'd live there.

Do I add ChrisCriss or not?

Hope to see you soon,
~Emily