[centre] [h3][b][color=turquoise]♥Brody Cunningham♥[/color][/b][/h3] Sometimes the stars in the heavens align and deem it fitting to bless someone with extraordinarily good fortune. Judging by the beautiful paper taped to his locker door, he could only assume that this time, it was he upon whom would be smiled by the gods above. Finally, a school with some class. The beautiful boy reached out and pulled the flier from the locker. In eight words, the small piece of paper managed to shoo away the dreary doom that clung to the young Mr. Cunningham. In eight words, he had found his ticket away from these lowly, revolting, cultureless plebeians. In eight words, he had found his destiny. He beamed down at the flier, and continued on his way. [h2]Edison High Theatre Club Presents: [u]West Side Story[/u][/h2] He was grinning ear to ear, positively bursting with excitement. He closed his eyes, and took a dive headfirst into the future. He broke through the surface, which rippled out, slowly blotting out the light. Darkness draped all as fog began to swell, softly caressing the faces of all in attendance. A lone light splits the darkness and the fog, illuminating a small circle. And who would be in that circle? None other than Tony, belting out a beautiful melody, melting the hearts of all in attendance. Grown men would weep. Women would swoon. Children would be stricken with awe, inspired to hopelessly chase the man into the greatness, to follow in steps they would never be able to fill. For there was only one that could take the role of Tony and soar to heights beyond the comprehension of low folk: the burden would lie solely on the shoulders of Brody Cunningham, thespian extraordinaire. It was a monstrous responsibility, but who else could bring the same raw talent to the role? Who else could be the vocal juggernaut worthy of stepping into those fabulous shoes? It would be a slight to the Broadway Gods were he to allow some knuckledragger to fumble “One Hand, One Heart”, and an outright crime were it to butcher “Maria.” Thus it was settled. Brody would play Tony. He would just have to let the drones know. Perhaps in song. Brody reached into his pocket and pulled out a large white cell phone, a Samsung Galaxy Note 4. With a quick swipe of his finger, the phone sprung to life. While placing the white earbuds in, he tapped the small music icon, tapped on playlist, then on the one labeled “West Side Story”. [hider=Something’s Coming][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdUzDi-hs-I[/youtube][/hider] ♫Could beeeeee!♫ ♫Who knoooows?♫ Simply perfection. ♫There’s something due any day;♫ ♫I will know right away♫ Brody felt the urge to, uhm…[i]remove waste[/i], and thus redirected to the nearest bathroom. Honestly, he would have changed courses even were he to see a tile with a color he didn’t quite fancy. Anything to delay the inevitable. His idea was grand, you see, but it didn’t quite mean he was all too thrilled about it. Still, with his new destiny decided, all that it meant was that he had to suffer through what, a couple months of dweebdom? Then he be catapulted into the spotlight, and ascend to bigger and greater things. Why, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were asked to Broadway immediately after his big number. He slid into the bathroom, catching the door before it shut. Some reject with disgustingly loud purple hair had just left it. And gotten some odd looks from a couple passing by. He didn’t blame them. Long hair? On a guy, which it would have to have been a guy after coming out of the men’s restroom, otherwise he was about to stumble upon some juicy information...anyway, it just didn’t work. Ever. Swerve. The door shut, and Brody quickly glanced at the stalls. Empty. Urinals? Empty. Sinks? Empty. ♫Soon as it shoooows.♫ He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Brody shuffled forward, adding his voice to Jimmy Bryant’s lovely pipes. [color=turquoise]“♫It may come cannonballing down through the sky, gleam in it’s eye, bright as a rose!♫”[/color] He slid to his knees, before spinning back his feet and backstepping towards the far wall. [color=turquoise]“♫Who knows? It's only just out of reach, down the block, on a beach, under a treeeee♫”[/color] He pranced about the tiles before stopping before a sink and catching his gaze in the mirror. [color=turquoise]“♫I got a feeling there's a miracle due gonna come true, comin' to me♫”[/color] The song continued, but Brody bowed out, pulling his earbuds out and turning off his phone. He took a long hard look at himself. Or rather at his clothes. Royal blue single breasted three-piece suit? Check. Gorgeous white dress shirt? Check. Sharp red bowtie and rockin’ white pocket square? Check. Brody laughed. At times, he felt so very much on point, that he couldn’t help but fall in love with himself all over again. Why he could get lost in his eyes… … Wasn’t he going somewhere? … Oh, right. The geek convention. Brody sighed. Oh well. Such was the price of fame. He crossed to a urinal and did his business, then returned to a sink and washed his hands. The bathroom door opened and someone strolled in, hurrying to one of the stalls. Brody hurried himself, finishing up his cleaning and wiping his hands clean with a paper towel before running out of the bathroom. He couldn’t stand to hear people in the bathroom. Private time should be exactly that. Private. He would rather not listen to anyone go about their business nor would he want them to listen to his own. It was just disgusting and weird. Why couldn’t this pedestrian school have private bathrooms? He nearly collided with a small guy who was hurrying to the bathroom himself. Did everyone at this school run off the same personal schedule? Brody stopped, scoffed, and stared. The nerve of the little rat, which based off the kid’s face was a far too kind way of putting things, actually getting in the way of Brody Cunningham. A look of open-mouthed disgust hung on the boy’s face as leered at the underclassman, who was just looking up at the dapper gent with a confused look on his face. Finally, he got annoyed. [color=turquoise]“Well? Your apology, ratboy?”[/color] The kid continued looking at Brody, slightly stunned. [color=turquoise]“Oh, honey, are you [i]really[/i] both deaf and ugly? Or just dumb and ugly?”[/color] Brody rolled his eyes and scoffed again before stepping forward. The boy seemed to be looking for a retort, but couldn’t seem to find one. He stood with his lips flapping yet no sound coming out. [color=turquoise]“Shoo shoo, ratboy. I’ve got better things to do than have a hideous, little, idiot ratboy gawking at me.”[/color] He practically spat the insult at the kid before placing a hand against the side of Ratboy’s head and pushing him aside. Brody sauntered on past, feeling super. Chin up, chest out, shoulders back, and a spring in his step. “Fag.” Brody turned back, his mouth hanging slack, but Ratboy was already gone. Off to the bathroom. Or perhaps off to his little rathole where he would fight for scraps and hopefully be eaten by the Mama Rat. He turned back, a false smile on his lips concealing the scowl in his eyes. Whatever. Fuck that kid. He wasn’t even worth the effort or the wrinkles. Definitely not the wrinkles. [hr] Brody stopped at the end of the hall. Just a few more feet and he’d be at the Biology room. To join the ghostbuster club. … He didn’t even like the movie, and now he was going to join some fanclub? Well, whatever. Bill Murray, Sigourney Weaver, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis. Drop the names and skid by from there. Sounded like a plan really. … Oh [i]hell[/i] no. At the entrance to the Biology room stood two ladies. Brody knew both of them at once. The nosey ginger brat was Sidney Garland. She dressed like a slob, and acted like more spazzy Nancy Grace. But somehow she was one of the linchpins of the Edison High rumor mill. Just about anything anyone had ever heard about anyone else had probably passed through her sleazy lips early one. Information is king, and this chick [b][i]was[/i][/b] information. He’d wonder why she was at some gathering of losers ([sub] alright, so probably not. She fits right in.)[/sub] but the girl she was most likely harassing said it all. Victoria Harris. Victoria fucking Harris. Young, beautiful, fashionable, perfect Victoria-fucking-Harris. He hadn’t been going to Edison long, but he definitely knew who was on top of the food chain. Tori fucking Harris. Brody hated her with a passion. She was perhaps the biggest obstacle standing between Brody and High School glory. She was everything he wanted to be. The school’s resident Queen, as it were. He grinned. [color=turquoise]Well, Queen Bitch, looks like some good old fashioned regicide is in order. The throne is mine.[/color] Whori-Tori entered the classroom, and that was enough to snap any semblance of a good mood Brody might have had. [sup]Oh[/sup] [b][u]HELL[/u][/b] [sub]no.[/sub] That Bitch was NOT about to steal HIS idea. HE was the one that was going to use these freaks and losers to boost their rep, not Goodie-Goodie Dumbslut. … Or wait. Or maybe this could be the best course of action. An evil little smirk sprouted on Brody. If she was going to join Losers-R-Us, and so was he, surely they’d be spending quite a bit of time together. And as far as he knew, he hadn’t exactly done anything to her to give her any reason to dislike him. No, it could be quite opposite, really. Ever since his start, he had been wooing the upper echelon of Edison society. And for the most part, he had been accepted. Maybe not all the way in, but close enough. Surely he would be the closest to her standing. Why, if the little slut had been feeling any hard doubts about joining in, she might breathe a sigh of relief at seeing someone like him join in too. That would give him the perfect opportunity to get close to her, to earn her trust, to be her ‘friend’. Then he could fucking destroy her. It was perfect. It was everything he could ever ask for. Not only would his reputation amongst the commoners rise, he would manage to tear down the Queen Bee, eliminating his chief rival for High School royalty. Fabulous. Brody readied himself. His entrance had to be perfect. With Tori in the midst, it was a whole new ballgame. Originally he had planned on just, well, checking out. Be seen, not heard. But now? Now he would dazzle them. [hr] On with the false smile… Got to make sure everything is tucked… Smooth out any wrinkles on the jacket and straighten the bowtie. Brody even popped in a mint. He was perfect. Showtime. Brody made his way down the hall to the Biology room. Someone had just stepped out to invite them inside. Tori said something to Sidney and went in. Brody waited a few moments, [color=turquoise] don’t seem too eager[/color], then entered after the girls. ... Oh dear. It was worse than he had imagined. Let’s run through the damages, shall we? Lillith Marjo? Now that’s a loser that knows how to be a loser. Despite physically looking like a rejected applicant for one of the Seven Dwarves, she’s got some semblance of style going for her, even if it is the whole, lesbo-chic look. From what Brody had gathered, and with her being as nonexistent on the social food chain as she was it wasn’t a lot, she was a gah-gah-gah-geek, but supposedly had a decent voice. There may be a slight chance of making her less of a reject, but Brodie wasn’t about to bet on it. But at least she was better than… Deborah something...a shapeless tent with feet. Seriously, did she just go a round with Ronda Rousey? Those bags have bags. And that hair...it’s like she dipped it in tar. It doesn’t help that she has the personality of a wet log. Goth was dead before you were ever born, sweetie. There’s no saving her. Swerve and a half. The asian one...Oh, that was Violet, right? Okay, yeah, that could work. She wasn’t too much of a social threat, and unlike the rest of these losers, she wasn’t a complete freak of nat- Wait, what happened to her bosom? Oh no. No. Please. Yeah, that wasn’t Violet. It was the other one. The guy. Nevermind. This one was hopeless too. Then there was, of course, Queen Bitch and Spazmouth. ... Huh. He missed one. Andy Anderson. He's that uh...that meganerd, right? Like, insanely smart teacher's pet, yeah? And...Huh. Surprisingly enough, he uh, well, he uh... Boring clothes. He had boring clothes. His body wasn't that bad, so show it off a bit. Make a louder statement. And those goddamn glasses could go. They hid his eyes. And...uh...ahem, his eyes were cu- What the hell was he thinking? This loser was just that, a useless, social reject. A tryhard. A witchbitch. A freak trying to build a stable of freaks, his very own Cirque du Soleil. Well, Lord of Losers, prepare for your coronation, for your court has arrived. Brody wept on the inside. This was a risky plan. Why, he was most likely committing social suicide with this move. Forget tearing down Tori, she was doing it to herself. But he had come too far now. Plan A was in full effect. Might as well plunge in and hope for the best. And so he did. [color=turquoise]“Calm yourselves, ladies…”[/color] Brody struck a pose: crossing one leg behind the other, with the toe barely touching the ground; gripped his jacket by the waist, left hand higher than the right, exposing a gorgeous gold watch; turning his head off to the left, staring into the distance, left shoulder lower than the right. [color=turquoise]“Brody Cunningham has arrived.”[/color] He turned his gaze back to the girls and Andy, flashing his bright, white smile. He glanced to the nearby clock. [color=turquoise]“Fashionably late, of course.”[/color] Ding. Perfect. That’s a wrap, folks. Eat your heart out, Robert Downey Jr. [/centre]