Warnings/Spoilers: Everything belongs to Ryan Murphy; I just bring the characters out to play.
Summary: A food fight leads to maybe a little bit more.
Brooke McQueen and Sam McPherson practically said it in unison as pure, unadulterated chaos reigned above them and around them and every in crack and crevice in the Kennedy High School cafeteria. A stray carrot there, a piece of bundt cake there, they watched as macaroni and cheese and hot dogs flew across the room at both intended and unintended targets. When one bullseye hit, another was missed, and the cafeteria resembled something like a dart part with the popular and unpopular kids battling it out in a game of 501.
"I can't believe this is happening," Brooke said in amusement, watching the scene unfold before her like she was in a theater watching the feature film front-row center.
"We're going to be in so much trouble," Sam replied, watching, too.
"No. You're going to be in so much trouble," Brooke countered. "You and your friends started this."
"Me and my friends?" Sam looked at her, "You're kidding me, right?" Brooke shook her head, crossing her arms as a plate of mashed potatoes landed next to her shoe. Sam sat Indian-style, crossed her arms as well and turned to look in the other direction as a few peas hit her in the face. "Eww," she wiped her face and crossed her arms again. "This is gross."
"Tell me about it," Brooke sighed, looking in the other direction as mayhem continued. She watched as Harrison and Josh took cover behind Sugar Daddy who didn't seem to be mind being covered in every meal served that day. Mary Cherry was screaming bloody murder, dialing as quick as she could on her cell phone to make sure she had a change of clothes waiting for her in the Novak when it was all said and down. Nicole was filing her nails in a corner of the cafeteria, nobody daring to go near her with any sort of food or beverage, fearing the wrath of Satan should a stray French fry or Jello cube get within a foot radius of her Manolo Blahniks. Carmen was ducking fried chicken and buffalo wings with a piece of pizza stuck to her slacks. Lily, on the other hand, was commando in the woods, faking left and flanking right to take out popular and unpopular kid alike. "So, who started this again?"
"It wasn't me."
"Well, it wasn't me."
"Why would I start this?"
"I don't know why don't you tell me?"
"No, why don't you tell me why you used my conditioner this morning?"
"That was my conditioner, Sam, you just think it's yours, because we use the same kind, and you ran out."
"We do not use the same conditioner, I would've noticed that," Sam scoffed. "Besides, if we did use the same conditioner, I would've switched to another brand the second I found out."
"Well, we do, so switch it."
"Why don't you switch it?"
"Because you said you would if you found out, so, I'm telling you!"
Neither would budge. So, they sat their in silence for a few more minutes as food, drinks and trays began flying left and right, up and down, sticking to every person, surface and fixture in the room.
"You started this, Brooke," Sam stated matter-of-factly out of nowhere. "Just like you start everything else."
"Woah, hold your horses, Sam, I did not start this. Seriously. I would not start a food fight. Do you think I'd ruin this top?" Brooke rose an eyebrow. Sam looked down at Brooke's shirt, trying to suppress a smile as she started a little too long at the blonde's chest.
"Oh." Sam's head snapped up to meet the blonde's eyes. "What?"
"What do you mean 'oh?'" Brooke stared back. "Not big enough for you," she whispered, turning her attention back to the fight.
"What did you say?" Sam was nearly at a loss for words making out what she thought Brooke said but didn't quite catch. A shade of red flushed her cheeks as she quickly squashed all traces of Brooke McQueen out of her mind, instead focusing on what appeared to be a barrage of milk cartons being launched off table trays to the other side of the room where April Tuna and company were hiding behind an overturned table.
"Nothing." Brooke closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but there, next to Sam. Brooke would've caught it but she was too busy distracting herself from the thoughts of Sam staring at her breasts. She'd have to pay more attention to Sam... staring. 'And that's it, ladies and gentlemen, I'm done.'
Seconds later, Brooke began to climb out from under the table and Sam surely followed, both emerging like clockwork as Principal Crupps stood, hands on his hips, waiting for somebody to explain just what the hell was going on in the Kennedy High cafeteria. Since Brooke and Sam were too busy to notice everyone pretty much frozen in mid-air, and having forgotten who really started the fight, they were the perfect scapegoat as Glass was quick to point out.
"These are the two that started it, Principal Crupps," Glass went on with the glorified details, "They were hiding like lost puppies, and I think it's about time we throw them out of this pound-"
"-That's enough, Ms. Glass," Crupps cut in. "You can go." If Glass felt emotion, the look on her face at being told to leave the cafeteria would've been hurt; that's if she felt, but she just went on her merry way back to her physics class to conduct a tyrannical study hall to make up for missing out on the best part of the McQueen-McPherson Food Fight.
The next sound the two girls heard echoed sonorously through the cafeteria, and if they shared the same name, it would've came at the exact same time.
"Oh, shit," they both swore under their breath, turning to find both their parents standing in the cafeteria doors with looks to kill in their eyes.