Chapter Text
Naya smacked her lips once, staring at her reflection in the mirror attached to the inside of her locker door. She pocketed her lip gloss and fluffed her hair. Behind her, Dianna giggled cruelly. Naya glanced at the other girl in the mirror before her eyes followed Dianna's around the rectangular door. She smirked. "Watch this," she threw to Dianna cockily.
Struggling under the weight of her school books, the blonde coming towards them wasn't very invested in her surroundings. Naya stuck her leg out, ankle caught ankle, and Naya's prey went sprawling.
Heather winced as her front hit the floor. She looked around at her scattered books, rolled to sit on her butt, and pushed her glasses up her nose. She didn't need to look to see who had tripped her, but the laughter that reached her ears from everyone around her didn't hurt nearly as bad as the vicious look that Naya was giving her.
For as long as she could remember, Naya had bullied her every single day at school. Heather couldn't remember a time when Naya wasn't popular and she wasn't just a victim. Her earliest memory of Naya was of the other girl pushing her off of the swing set when they were eight. Naya was the reason that Heather was afraid to come to school. Naya was the reason that Heather refused to attend after school functions.
Naya smirked down at her and slammed her locker door shut. She leaned down closer to Heather. "Watch where you're going, nerd," she whispered dangerously. Heather averted her teary gaze to the floor as Naya and Dianna stepped over her fallen form to meet up with Mark and Chord at the end of the hallway. The laughter died down, but no one moved to help Heather.
Heather blinked back her tears, wondering what she had done to Naya and when being smart had become a crime. She made to get up, but a hand thrust in front of her face made her stop. Heather's eyes followed the hand, up an arm, and were met with Lea's sympathetic eyes. Heather stared at her blankly before slowly taking Lea's tiny hand and allowing the smaller girl to help her to her feet. She rubbed her backside and glanced at her things, which were quickly being gathered by Chris. "You don't have to do this," Heather muttered, temporarily forgetting that Lea and Chris were also outcasts, so there was no reputation to protect.
Lea flashed a bright smile. "Oh, we know."
Chris rounded her and dropped her books into her waiting arms. "We too know the pain of relentless teasing at the hands of our 'betters'," he said, forming air quotes in the appropriate places. "But, chin up." He exhaled and plastered on a dazzling smile. "Only a few more months until graduation." He tightened his grip on the strap of his messenger bag. "Then you'll be at Harvard or Yale, far away from this rinky-dink town and them." He gestured to Mark, Naya, Dianna, and Chord behind her. When she glanced back, all that she could see was Mark and Naya all over each other. "Well, at best they'll be working at Taco Bell asking if you want Lava Sauce with your order."
Heather nodded and nudged her glasses up her nose again.
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"Watch the hands," Naya muttered, pulling Mark's hand from her backside. "And don't leave a fucking mark, Mark!" His lips stopped their assault on Naya's neck and he pulled away to look around.
"I thought this is what you wanted," he whispered hurriedly.
"I wanted a beard," Naya whispered back. "Not a reputation as a whore." Mark reached for her again, but she swatted him away. "Or a handsy moron!"
"The public display kind of goes along with the bearding," Mark said.
Naya crossed her arms. "That doesn't mean that you can get a case of happy hands or mark me as yours."
Mark sighed irritably and pulled away from her. He adjusted his letterman jacket proudly and stalked away. Naya watched him disappear into the crowd before turning her gaze to Dianna and Chord. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it when she saw them sucking face. She hefted her fallen bag over her shoulder and headed for class (the terrified looks on Chris and Lea's faces as she passed wasn't nearly as gratifying as it should have been, but she figured they'd have to suffice).
When she and Mark had become each other's beards after years of being best friends there had been strict rules (no excessive touching, no marking), but recent speculation around school about Mark's sexuality had the quarterback scrambling to cover his oh-so-very-gay tracks. Sure, Naya had had her moments of panic, but damn at least she had stuck to their rules.
Naya prided herself in being popular. At the same time, she'd worked very hard to keep a more-or-less clean sexual bill. She wasn't a whore, and she made damn sure people knew that.
Naya walked briskly into her advanced placement U.S. History class. She stopped briefly at Heather's desk and, without looking at the other girl, knocked her notebook to the ground. She hooked her foot in the strap of Heather's bag and kicked, sending it sliding across the floor. "Oops," she said quietly and with a smirk.
Naya continued to her seat and pulled out her nail file, deliberately avoiding Heather's gaze as the blonde collected her bag. Heather was her biggest weakness, her reason for needing Mark.
She hated it. Naya had accepted her feelings for the nerdy girl years ago, but had only told Mark (and only because he had come to her in the middle of the night in tears over his feelings for a certain male diva), and had absolutely no intentions of acting on them. In a couple of months, after graduation, she'd never have to lay eyes on stupid Heather Morris again.
Naya looked over just in time to see a ball of paper smack against the side of Heather's head and made a mental note to reassert her turf to the laughing boy. Everyone knew that Heather was her's, knew that she was the only one allowed to torment the blonde, the only one allowed to cause that wounded look.
Naya sighed and rolled her eyes as the teacher entered and immediately started on Lincoln's assassination.
Only a few more months, she told herself. A few more months and she'd be free of Heather's spell.