Chapter 1: The Hint of a Spark
"Eyes to the front, Jake."
The boy glanced up at his teacher as she spoke, before twisting around to face the front of the class. He slouched back in his chair, Rachel giving him a firm but kind look as she turned to continue writing down the day's homework on the whiteboard.
She could hear the low murmuring and the whispers, the sound a light hum over the group of teens. Her Junior English class was growing restless as it neared the end of the double period. There was the telltale clicking of pens and scrunching of spare paper, and the distinct feeling that not all 30 sets of eyes were watching the whiteboard. But the thought made her smile, as did most things about her job.
Rachel Berry had never pictured her life in a classroom. When she graduated McKinley High 10 years ago, she never expected to be back, surrounded by adolescent teens and Shakespeare. She had imagined it on a stage in front of thousands; adored. That was her dream, to bring joy to millions. And in many ways it still was. Even if that dream had been put on hold.
But she was surprised to find the adoration of her students and the satisfaction of knowing she was influencing them to aspire to greater things beyond the walls of McKinley was enough for her. It wasn't thousands of strangers, or the thrill of a standing ovation. This thrill was of a different kind, a slow burning one that still left a smile on her face after so many years of walking the crowded halls of her old high school.
She had left Lima when she graduated. Like so many of her friends, she was drawn to the bright lights and big city of New York. But Rachel soon found that stardom was a harder dream than most to follow, moving back home after only two years to the comfort of Lima and a one-bedroom apartment in the inner suburbs of town. It wasn't a loft in Soho, or a private dressing room on Broadway. But it was home. And it was comfortable.
Rachel could still hear the low buzz from behind her, the sound almost calming. She'd grown used to it over the years, sometimes craving it during long summer breaks. But it was just quiet enough for her to hear the high keen of a ringtone vibrating from the back of the room.
"Bree." She said it calmly, not needing to turn to see the girl's head snap up from her lap and the glowing screen of her iPhone. "On my desk, please." She could hear the small huff, followed by shuffled footsteps and a dull thud. Rachel clicked the lid on her marker, spinning on her heel to catch the cheerleader retaking her seat at the back of the room. "You can come back and collect it at the end of the day."
Bree folded her arms across her chest, her full lips pouting slightly. Rachel gave her a sympathetic smile, dropping the cell phone into her desk drawer, before pacing to the front of her class. "Now, the key to a successful research paper is choosing your thesis statement," Rachel instructed. "Too specific and you'll limit yourself. Too broad a question and your argument will just get lost in all the information."
Rachel picked up a small stack of paper from her desk, and began passing them along the front row, her high heels clicking across the linoleum. "I've prepared some examples of question structure based off the case study we did last week." She came to a halt near the large floor length windows that covered the whole right side of her classroom, the murmurs of her students growing louder. "Just pass them back, please."
Even when Rachel returned to Lima, studying English Literature was never in her plan; not that she'd had anything concrete when she'd packed up her new life. The months that followed saw her looking into local theatre programs, and teaching acting classes at the community centre downtown. But ultimately it was her mother's influence that helped sway her into the profession and back into the halls of McKinley High. She had been teaching English for decades, so it only seemed a natural fit when it came time for Rachel to choose her own major.
Smoothing down her dark blouse and high-waist skirt, Rachel watched as the handouts hit the back row, the bell ringing moments later for the end of period. Her students began getting to their feet, grabbing book bags and pencil cases, and forwarding out into the hall. "Okay." Rachel raised her voice slightly to compensate for the sound of chairs being dragged across the cold floor and the babble of 30 teenagers. "Your homework is to choose your research topic. We'll go over them next week."
Moving back to her desk, Rachel began straightening the papers and work plans that lay scattered over the wooden surface, pulling them into her top drawer. She retrieved Bree's cell phone in the process, looking up amidst the rush of students to see the young cheerleader walking towards the door.
"Bree," Rachel called. The girl spun around, letting the rest of her peers pass her as she made her way over to her desk. Rachel held up the cell phone, a smile splitting across Bree's face. She made a grab for it, Rachel retracting her hand at the last second. "How about just leaving it on silent?" Rachel smiled. "That way I won't know the next time you decide not to pay attention in my class." Bree nodded, reaching again for the device. But Rachel pulled back once more. "Any other teacher and it would have been the end of the day. Understand?"
"Understand," Bree laughed, nodding again. "Thanks, Miss B." The girl took the offered phone, and skipped toward the door, before spinning around again to look at her teacher, "Happy Birthday, Miss Berry."
She disappeared into the crowd surging past the door, leaving Rachel alone in the empty classroom. The young teacher just shook her head, biting her lip idly, before going back to tidying her desk.
"Why not? He's cute." Isabelle looked over her shoulder at the table in the far corner. The lively Home Ec. teacher let out a low whistle as she continued to stare at the new swim coach, the man blissfully unaware at the attention he was garnering. "He can give me CPR any day. If only I was 20 years younger."
Rachel shook her head at the woman, "Come on. No. I don't need my friends playing cupid, you four are the last people I should be taking dating advice from." Rachel pointed an accusatory fork in the direction of the other four teachers at her table. "I'm completely okay with my terminal single status. It serves me just fine, thank you very much."
"What?" her best friend, Jesse, questioned innocently. "We're doing no such thing. Frankly, I'm offended you would even suggest that we're-" Rachel looked up from her salad, training a death stare on him. The man chuckled to himself, his lips pulling up in the same smile she'd seen for the past 13 years. It made him look boyish and handsome at the same time.
"Hey, don't drag me into this." Grace Hitchens, McKinley's resident guidance counsellor, raised her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just here, minding my own business. It's these three." She used her own fork for emphasis, jabbing it in the direction of Holly as well, the History teacher sporting a bewildered look at the accusation. Grace continued to chew her current mouthful, before adding, "But your mom would approve. Just saying."
"Agreed," Jesse quipped.
"Since that is what's important here." Rachel rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She continued to eat her lunch, keeping her gaze from straying to the far table and to the object of their conversation. "And hey, just think, if I'm taken I won't be able to marry you." Rachel turned to Jesse, smiling sweetly at him. "Now will I?"
"Ah yes, our deal," he murmured, taking a sip of his water and sitting further back in his chair. "And what a shame that would be."
Rachel dropped her fork, smacking the Drama teacher on the chest. He coughed, swatting away her tiny fist. Rachel knew he was just teasing, but it still gave her great satisfaction to wipe the smug grin from his face. Ever since sophomore year, the two friends had had a packed that they would get married if they were both still single come Rachel's 30th birthday. Today marked her 28th, the occasion bringing the fond memory back to the surface.
"Besides, he's too young for me," Rachel dismissed, chancing a glance at the far table. She watched as the man dragged his fingers roughly through his mess of blonde hair, before he caught Rachel's eye. A deep flush immediately touched her cheeks, Rachel quickly averting her gaze back to her friends.
"Two years is hardly young, sweet cheeks," Holly jeered, a wide smirk on her lips.
"Coach?"
Rachel's head snapped to the entrance of the teacher's lounge, welcoming the interruption. Her eyes fell on a student she recognized from one of her Senior English classes, dressed in full Cheerios uniform and carrying a clipboard. She leant gently against the jamb as Sue Sylvester, the cheerleading coach, took to her feet and strode purposefully to the door.
Rachel watched the pair for a moment. Sue was speaking to her in a hushed tone, the girl nodding at her coach before her dark eyes drifted to Rachel. They were curious, but with an edge Rachel couldn't quite put her finger on. It was unnerving, pulling the teacher up short.
It was a long moment before the cheerleader broke, turning on her heel and wandering back into the hallway without a second glance, Sue following her out. Rachel moved her gaze back to her friends just when the bell resounded in the school's halls, the woman slightly taken back as she bent to retrieve her handbag.
"You know, you could always go gay, Berry." Rachel felt a tight knot hit high under her ribs at that distinct voice. She looked up in time to see the McKinley Dance teacher, Cassandra, near their table. "I hear Mrs Bletheim's freshly divorced." Her words were sneered, the woman almost skipping past them on her way out the door. "Jesse, don't forget we have a choreography run through at 3.30 for the musical."
"Sure, Cass," he nodded, watching her leave. Jesse sighed, touching Rachel's shoulder soothingly once she'd disappeared into the oncoming crowd. "Don't let her get to you, Rach."
"Easy for you, she actually likes you," Rachel bit back, getting to her feet, Holly, Isabelle, and Grace already having cleared out. "Me, she distains."
"She likes you." It was said without any conviction, Jesse half shrugging at the fact. "You know, deep, deep down." The man broke out into that grin Rachel couldn't resist, the knot easing with just that one look.
"We've got class."
Rachel placed the rest of her salad in the waste bin on her way out the door, dissolving into the onslaught of students. They stood by lockers and chatted in the halls, some escaping to the bathroom before the start of fifth period. Jesse stood half a step in front of her, the flow of teens giving them a wide birth as they both headed to their respective classrooms.
Rachel paused for a moment, taking a boy's hat from his head as she passed and handed it back to him. "Not inside, Luke." The junior shot her a tiny smile, before storing it in his locker and wandering off down the opposite hall. "Also, what have I told you about telling my students about my personal life." Rachel turned to Jesse, chastising him as she whacked him lightly on his bicep. "Just wait, they'll start calling me Rachel soon."
"What are you talking about?" The man gave her confused look, the pair continuing to weave through the crowd.
"Bree, that junior cheerleader, said Happy Birthday to me this morning."
"I didn't tell her." Jesse appeared genuine, an edge of confusion in his voice. "I didn't tell anyone." The pair kept walking, before Jesse raised his brow, that smile coming back. "Well, everyone except Coach Evans."
"Jesse!" she exclaimed.
"Rachel!"
The two friends both spun to see Sam Evans jogging down the hall toward them, his silver whistle swinging gently around his neck. "Oh boy." Jesse mumbled, laughter clear in his tone. The man attempted to disappear amongst the flow of students, Rachel's face getting hotter by the second as she grabbed him by the wrist.
"Jesse St. James, don't you dare," It was a harsh whisper, her grip digging into his skin. But he managed to squirm free, walking backwards away from her, his clipboard raised in surrender. He mouthed his apology before spinning on his heel and dissolving into the sea of teens.
"You okay?" Sam had saddled up beside Rachel, the woman trying her best to compose herself. "I kinda overheard, back there."
The blood instantly drained from Rachel's face and rushed to her stomach at his words, her mind racing over what he may or may not have been privy to. But Sam must have noticed her distress as he rushed to explain. "Well I saw, not heard. What'd she say to you, you looked pretty upset?"
"Oh Cassandra," Rachel sighed, almost relieved. "No nothing, it's fine. Just Cassandra being Cassandra." She smiled politely at him, Sam returning the gesture. Rachel noted that he did indeed have a cute smile, the corners of his mouth almost pinching, showing the start of dimples either side of his full lips.
Rachel shook her head lightly, disregarding the wayward thought, before continuing to walk in the direction of her classroom, Sam keeping pace at her side. "So, I hear it's your birthday. You should've said," he intoned, conversational. "I would have got you like a cupcake or something."
The previous flush returned to Rachel's cheeks in full force, "Oh that's truly not necessary, it's not that big of a deal." She tried to cover herself, her handbag clutched loosely in front of her. "Thank you, though," she said genuinely, before pointing over her shoulder. "I should really get going."
"No, sure." Sam just nodded at her, that easy smile still in place.
After telling him goodbye, Rachel began walking down the first corridor on her left, in the opposite direction of her class. She hoped Sam wouldn't realize, as she pushed open the door to the faculty bathroom.
It was empty, except for one occupied stall in the far corner. Walking to the nearest sink, Rachel gripped it with both hands to steady herself, her mind a mess of thoughts. She'd only spoken to Sam a handful of times, but with each she could see his growing interest becoming more and more apparent; something she'd shared with her friends earlier in the break. And something they seemed keen to pursue, if not for her than for their own amusement. But she honestly didn't know how she felt about him.
Yes, he was good looking. And yes, he seemed genuine and like a nice guy. But Rachel had been sincere when she'd told her friends; she had no issue being single and keeping it that way. It suited her lifestyle, and she had no intention of changing that lifestyle in the near future.
"You're getting way too old for this," Rachel mumbled to her reflection.
She heard the stall behind her flush, Isabelle opening the cubicle door and walking up to the sink beside her. The woman washed her hands, before catching Rachel's eye in the mirror. "Is everything okay, honey?" Her voice was full of concern, her perfect eyebrows turning down. "You look a little flustered."
Rachel nodded at her, hoping it would be enough for her friend. But Isabelle just smiled sadly at her, as she dried her hands. "They're not all bad, you know."
"Who?" Rachel kept her hands gripping the sink, not needing or wanting another deep and meaningful about dating.
"The kids of course. Who'd you think I meant?" Isabelle winked at her, before picking up her Chanel handbag and turning to leave. "I'll see ya later, beautiful."
Rachel took a deep breath, and looked at her reflection one last time. She could see the start of worry lines setting in above her brow. Rachel massaged them out and closed her eyes for a moment, taking another much need breath before following her friend out.
There was a minute to spare when Rachel arrived at her Senior English class, the woman walking briskly to catch the last bell. She set her handbag down underneath her chair, before taking a seat behind her large oak desk at the front of the room. There were only a handful of students not already seated. All of them were chatting amongst themselves, some pausing in their conversations to greet their teacher.
Rachel quickly pulled the new class novel from a box at her feet, putting them down on the front of her desk. She was in the middle of straightening the three small stacks when a chocolate cupcake with gold star sprinkles was placed down in front of her. "Happy Birthday, Miss Berry."
"Kurt," Rachel laughed, looking up at the fresh-faced boy. "You shouldn't have."
"It was either this or something low cut with sequins, but I felt this was slightly more appropriate for the occasion."
"Well thank you, Kurt." She picked up the small cupcake, and tasted the icing with her finger. "How did you know?" Rachel asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"Oh, a little bird," he said vaguely. "I promise it's not poisoned," Kurt insisted, before falling to a teasing whisper. "I'm not an evil queen." The boy winked at her, as his boyfriend, Blaine, swooped in and took him by the arm, steering him to their seats in the second row.
Rachel giggled at him. She knew she wasn't meant to show favouritism to any student, it was a fact that had been drilled into her ever since her first day. But Kurt made it very difficult. He had always toed the line between student and friend, Rachel wondering if things would have been different had they met outside the halls of McKinley.
The young teacher rummaged in her desk and soon found a small container in her top draw, storing her gift safely in her handbag. As she straightened up, the rest of her class appeared to have all forwarded in, that murmur turning to a light hum as Rachel paced to the front of the class. She retrieved a book from the closest stack, and sat on the edge of her desk, "Okay, class. This-"
"Sorry we're late, Miss Berry." There was a light rap at the door, Rachel stopping as 28 sets of eyes trained on the sudden intrusion. Quinn Fabray, the captain of the Cheerios, was standing idly in the doorway. "We were with Coach Sylvester."
Rachel was about to ask whom Quinn meant by we when she saw the vice-captain, Santana, follow her in, those same dark eyes passing over Rachel as she walked by.
"That's alright, girls. Take your seats." Rachel motioned from them to sit down, watching as they took separate paths, Santana straying from Quinn to sit next to Blaine in the second row. She sat back in her chair and pulled her notepad from her bag, Rachel tearing her eyes away to continue her lesson. "Okay, so this term we'll be studying Fahrenheit 451," Rachel told them, holding up the book she had picked up from the stack on her desk. "It's set in a dystopian society where books, or knowledge if you like, are illegal and the government has sought to confiscate and burn all books across the United States. It's fantastic. I read it when I was a senior here at McKinley."
"And when was that, Miss?" a voice quipped lightly. "Last week?"
The low hum got louder, her students all turning to find the source of the comment as Rachel's eyes instantly found Santana in the second row. The girl was toying with her pen, the hint of smile touching her full lips. It wasn't the girl's expression that sent the knot to Rachel's stomach, but her tone. It was teasing, almost as if she was trying to get a rise out of her.
A few students closest to Santana snickered. Mack and Dani, sitting to her left, covered their mouths with their hands, while others, such as Kurt and Blaine, were slightly shocked at their friend's boldness.
"Quiet, please." A hush instantly fell over her class. Rachel placed the novel gently on her desk and looked at the cheerleader point blank. "Detention, Santana." She said it as confidently as she could. "Today, after school."
Usually Rachel would be more lenient, much more. But something about Santana unnerved her. She didn't usually give out detention for something so small, but it was that tone, and the affliction she put on her words.
"I can't."
"Excuse me?" Rachel exclaimed in disbelief, setting herself on her feet and taking a step closer. The girl had said it without any hint of sarcasm or her previous tone, her smile gone from her lips.
"I have cheerleading practice this afternoon, Miss." Santana had an unreadable expression on her slight features. It only proved to unnerve Rachel even more. But the teacher knew better than to challenge Coach Sylvester when it came to her Cheerio captains.
"Then it'll be tomorrow, and for two hours for talking back," Rachel said firmly, moving back to sit on her desk. Santana put her tongue to her cheek, but didn't argue any further. She went back to toying with her pen, her eyes finding her notepad.
But Rachel swore she saw her smirk.
It was growing dark when Rachel left work, staying back to finalise lesson plans for the next day. The hallways were completely deserted, save for the janitor buffing the floor down the main corridor. She smiled at him as she passed, the older man returning the gesture as he continued to drag the machine over the polished linoleum.
She was about to push through the double doors to the faculty parking lot when she noticed a glow coming from the Principal's office, down to her right. She dropped her grip on the handle, wandering further down the hallway until she came to the large glass office at the end. There was a lamp on, providing enough light to illuminate the large mahogany desk and the woman sitting behind it.
Rachel walked further inside, passing the front desk and lightly knocking on the glass door. The dark-haired woman looked up from the paperwork scattered across her desk, that familiar smile stretching across her lips, "Hi, Rachel."
"Hey, Mom."
Rachel moved to sit in one of the chairs opposite, the woman still distracted by the forms she was currently filling out. "How was your day, sweetie?"
"It was okay," Rachel told her, attempting to sound enthused. "Just another day. Well at least I wish it were. Jesse decided to tell half the faculty and I'm guessing some of my students that it was my birthday today."
"Don't be too hard on him, Rachel." Her mother, Shelby, looked up at her, smiling lovingly at her only daughter. "That's my future son-in-law you're talking about."
"You remember that?"
"Of course I do, it was the first day I met you." Shelby seemed to pause for a moment, "Well, met you again." Her mother's eyes crinkled in the corners, showing her laugh lines. "It's how you introduced me to him. Your future husband." She sounded like the quintessential proud mother, with just a hint of teasing.
"Come on, I was a 15 year old schoolgirl, in love for the first time," Rachel argued lightly. "You can hardly hold it against me."
"Ah, before I forget." Shelby ducked down, Rachel hearing a draw to her desk slide open, before she remerged holding a small box with an even smaller pink bow. Her mother placed it in front of her, smiling widely, a pleased glint in her eye. "Happy Birthday."
Rachel smiled for what felt like the first time today at those two words, "Thanks, Mom." She retrieved the present, but held onto it, setting it on her lap.
"You having dinner with your fathers tonight?" Shelby filed the last of her letters in a folder, slipping it into her draw, before locking it shut.
"Yeah, they have a whole dinner planned at 7.30," Rachel replied, her eyes automatically straying to the clock above her mother's bookcase, noting that she still had 45 minutes. "You know how much they love parties. Any excuse for those two."
"Oh I remember," Shelby laughed, clasping her hands in front of her. "They tried to throw me one every time I gave them a new ultrasound photo. Think the hospital staff even had to shoo them out of the waiting room when you were born because they'd wanted to put up a welcome to the world sign for you with celebratory apple cider."
Rachel laughed with her, being able to imagine her overly theatrical dads standing on waiting room furniture, stringing up the sign she knew they would have both stayed up making the previous night. She looked to her mother once the laughter settled, Rachel seeing the beautiful age lines around Shelby's eyes, hoping she'd age just as gracefully.
"Well I better get going. I just wanted to say goodnight." Rachel put her present in her handbag, straightened her armchair as she stood to leave.
"Oh Rachel, before you go."
"Yeah?" Rachel murmured, turning back with an expectant look.
"Are you able to cover detention tomorrow?" Shelby waved her hands about as she moved to explain further. "Grace has some kind of last minute appointment and needs to leave early."
Rachel didn't know why, but her first thought was of Santana. The image of her ghosted across her vision for the split second it took for her to respond, "Yeah, of course." Rachel gave her a small smile, pulling her handbag higher on her shoulder. "Goodnight, Mom."
"Night, baby."
Rachel turned to leave, walking back through the glass doors and down the hall past the janitor, and through the double doors to the parking lot. But even as she reached her car, and even as she pulled out of the exit and onto the highway, she couldn't quite shake the thought of the young girl, or more so that smirk.