"I suppose you're going to try and get me to 'open up', or whatever the hell it is you do." Santana smirked, kicking her legs up on the table in front of her, her arms crossed as a defensive barrier. "Ain't gonna happen."
Ms. Pilsbury, well-intentioned as always, just leaned forward on her chair and laced her fingers together. She cleared her throat and stared at Santana as if there was something she could magically say or do that would unravel the girl, forcing her to talk to her. "Santana, you're here to see me because Wil—err, Mr. Schuester was concerned about your well-being. I suggest you take advantage of it, I'm here to help you."
There was so much wrong with that, Santana thought sourly. Why was everyone treating her like she was the sole perpetrator behind the piano stunt? Hell, she didn't even light the damn thing on fire! Sure, it was her idea, and she convinced Quinn (who actually didn't need very much convincing) to help her out for old times' sake, but she shouldn't have had to take all of the blame. She couldn't think of too many punishments that were worse than being expelled from the glee club— it was the one part of her school day that she didn't dread, even if she did have to see Berry there, with her mocking smile.
She had carefully considered what might happen if she were caught, but this was not what she expected. Santana knew that the glee club was trying (pitifully, at that) to recruit new members; she didn't have the foresight to know that Schuester had seemingly grown a pair over the summer. He used to let stuff like this slide all the time, so it seemed strange that now, when they were in dire need of members, he would kick one of his best singers out.
At first Santana had been loath to admit that she missed being in glee club. The first time they went to Sectionals she had callously admitted that it was the best part of her day, and this still held true. No one seemed to remember it though. No one backed her up when Schuester took a stand. No one realized that she didn't commit the crime entirely of her own accord. Only Brittany was smart enough to question her motives, and Santana refused to let the girl be involved. "Britt, you're a water sign, you should just let me handle it", she had said. There was an unspoken contract between them; Brittany knew there was something larger going on here, and after a few days time Santana confessed to her that she had been blackmailed.
Wishing the hour would just be over already, Santana sank deeply into her chair, grimace growing larger. "Well, you two sure have an interesting way of helping, maybe he should have talked to me before he kicked me out." She didn't intend to ever tell an adult about the situation she was in, and she realized she had made a mistake in spilling that there was more to the story than everyone thought.
A look of interest filled Ms. Pilsbury's round eyes. "Santana, do you mean to say that that would have made a difference?"
Great, Santana thought, here come the questions. "No, I still would have had that stupid piano lit on fire." Her expression was serious, pensive. She couldn't believe she was actually having a dialogue with the school counselor, even if it wasn't a particularly desired conversation.
Disappointment flooded the redhead's face. "Nobody understands why you did it. From what Mr. Schue said, you seem to love performing." Santana squirmed in her seat—shedid love singing. The only reason she didn't throw a fit when she found out she had to attend a session was that she thought it might give her an in back into the club. Now it was just a matter of how much information she had to give away to get that in.
"I do love it", Santana replied earnestly.
"Then tell us why you did that. Look Santana, all you have to do is apologize and give us an explanation, and I'm sure Will would be happy to let you back into the glee club. In fact, I know he would. Everything you say here is confidential between us."
For a moment Santana actually considered telling her everything; it would be a huge weight off her shoulders. However, she knew that confidentiality could only go so far, and a teacher blackmailing a student—however vague the threat was—would not be something that could be kept under wraps.
"Can't you just, like… believe me that I had a good reason?" Her tough façade was starting to crack, her posture becoming one of vulnerability rather than intimidation. There had been countless number of times where Santana could have used the aid of a guidance counselor—where was Ms. Pilsbury then? It was hardly her own fault that she didn't want to tell everything to this fidgety, doe-eyed woman who was no more than a stranger to her.
Ms. Pilsbury considered this for a moment, taking notice of Santana's changing mannerisms. The girl really did look desperate, but they had to make sure that nothing like this would ever happen again.
"You know I can't do that, Santana."
Santana saw Ms. Pilsbury looking at her with what she thought was pity; it made her feel weak.
"I already told Mr. Schuester. Sue made me do it." She knew it wasn't a sufficient explanation, but didn't understand why anyone was demanding more from her. Sue put people up to things all the time, why was this any different?
Ms. Pilsbury had been a guidance counselor long enough to know when someone felt remorseful, and it was painstakingly obvious that Santana regretting doing, or, she thought, having to do what she did. There was genuine hurt showing on the girl's face, and it made Ms. Pilsbury feel like she was failing for not getting her to say anything. One of her hands brushed a free strand of hair behind her ear, and she bit her lip in thought. She spoke with a decisive look on her face.
"Just apologize to Mr. Schue and the glee club, I'll tell him that we talked about why you did it."
Santana's eyebrow shot up, it almost seemed like Ms. Pilsbury was trying to help her. She opened her mouth to comment, but was interrupted.
"Santana, I really wish you would talk to me, but it's obvious that there's something more going on, and I'm not going to push you. I don't want to be the one keeping you from doing what you most enjoy, so just go apologize and that will be the end of it."
There had been very few times in Santana's life where she was rendered speechless, but this was on that short list. Especially lately, she had learned that you can't expect people to be there for you when you needed them—the people in her life, with the exception of Brittany, were self-interested. People were scared of her; they didn't understand that sometimes she needed to be comforted too. Santana looked gratefully at Ms. Pilsbury, who was the last person she had expected to actually come through for her.
"Thank you." Two words that scarcely came out of her mouth.
After eyeing the door in silence for a moment, Santana pulled herself off of the chair and opened it, giving Ms. Pilsbury a small smile before leaving.