A/N: So I'm reposting my Heathers-based story, which has gone through multiple rewrites and been changed from Klaine to Kurtbastian. The story's set around season 3, but has some continuity issues with the first two seasons.
My name is Kurt, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel; I'm 16 years old and a junior at McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio. I'm literally alone, seeing as how I'm the only openly gay kid in school; our school's run by the Cheerios, three seemingly perfect but totally bitchy cheerleaders. Quinn Fabray is head Cheerio who regularly bullies all lower forms; Santana Lopez, Quinn's second-in-command, is pure evil when it comes to guys; and last and least is Brittany Pierce, the air-headed slut of the group; she's slept with almost every guy in school (except me, of course). Yet for some reason, I'm like the "fourth wheel" of the group; I don't like it, but I am popular, and so I don't get crap.
"Oh shit, here comes Quinn," I heard Artie Abrams say as Quinn, Santana, and Brittany approached the table he was at with Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang, and I was following.
"May God have mercy on us all," Mercedes quipped.
"Lunchtime poll," Quinn announced. I saw Mercedes and Tina roll their eyes. "Aliens just arrived to tell us that they're gonna blow up the Earth in two days and you just won two million dollars in the lottery, what would you do with the money?"
"I'd get all the hottest clothes," Mercedes replied.
"I'd get a rocket out of here...with a girl," Artie said, turning red.
"Q, check it," Santana said, pointing at a tall, brunet boy sitting in a corner of the quad. Quinn rolled her eyes and turned to me.
"Ugh, new kid, obviously," Quinn scoffed. "Kurt, you go ask him."
"Fine," I sighed bitterly. I walked over to him and he grinned.
"Hey," he said smoothly. "What's a hot piece of ass like you doing over here?" I turned scarlet and the guy smirked.
"H-hi," I stammered, "c-can I ask y-you a st-stupid q-q-question?"
The guy flashed a grin; his teeth were perfect. "There are no stupid questions, just stupid people."
"Just wait till you hear it. Okay, stupid aliens just arrived to tell us that they're gonna blow up the stupid Earth in two days and you just won two million dollars in the stupid lottery, what would you do with the stupid money?'" I asked.
The guy looked taken aback for a second, and then said, "Well, I stand corrected, there are stupid questions." I smiled.
"Come on, Kurt," Quinn interrupted, "if people see you with the new kid, they'll think we're with the new kid." She grabbed my arm and pulled me away
"I am so sorry," I mouthed to him. He winked.
As I was being pulled away, dimwitted jocks Karofsky and Azimio sauntered over to the guy and started taunting him. I pulled my arm from Quinn and tried to hear what they were saying.
"Hey, fag, don't you get it? No one wants you here," Azimio sneered.
"I get it, you guys are obviously the 'power and muscle' around here, and it's pretty clear that I'm not the only fag," the guy said. I grinned.
"What'd you say, you little prick?" Karofsky snarled.
"Please, your eyebrows make you look like Liberace and that haircut is very Wayne Brady," the guy chuckled. I bit back a laugh.
"You…" Karofsky couldn't think of an insult. What a big surprise there.
"You…what? Homo? Fag? Queer? I've been called every name in the book," the guy said, pulling out a gun. The jocks' eyes widened and they stepped back.
"He was shooting blanks, obviously," I said as I played croquet in Quinn's backyard with the girls.
"He had a real gun; they should throw his ass in jail," Santana said, taking her shot.
"No way, the least they could do is suspend him, the only damage done was some soiled jockstraps," I said, with a grin.
"Well, Kurt, I had no idea you had eyes for a total psycho," Quinn said scathingly.
As she turned her back, I flipped her off, then hit the ball so hard it bounced off the birdbath, then into the wind chimes, and right through the hole I was aiming for.
"Holy shit, that was awesome," Santana said, high-fiving me.
"Santana, your mother's here," Judy, Quinn's mother, called.
"Who wants a ride?" Santana asked, swinging her mallet over her shoulder. Brittany immediately followed.
"I'm taking Kurt to his first college party tonight," Quinn bragged. I rolled my eyes. Yep, my first college party; what fun that will be, especially with an escort like Quinn. Vuitton knows, she'll probably be an escort to some drunk pervert loser by the end of the night.
I went to my SUV and pulled all the CDs out, knowing Quinn would bitch about my musical tastes: Village People (even for me, that's pretty gay), Gaynor, Horne… Quinn came running out in her Cheerios uniform.
"Now, to the QuickStop!" she commanded. I sighed and started the engine.