She didn't think he was going to do it. But she didn't think he was going to break her heart, either, and he did that without hesitating.
She should have known better.
She watched as they walked away, laughing at her pathetic image. She felt the egg dripping down her face and tried to remember to keep her mouth shut. She may be covered in baby chickens but she didn't want to accidentally inhale one.
She stood there a long time, feeling the slimy egg dripping down her body. She stood there long after Jesse and Vocal Adrenaline had gone, long after the egg made her shiver.
She didn't want to move. She knew if she moved, she'd break.
She stood as still as a statue, the only movement the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She kept her eyes fixed straight in front of her.
"Berry?"
She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the voice, the whole outside world. Not yet, she begged silently. I'm not ready.
"Berry?" There was a tinge of concern now and he was coming closer.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, willing him to just walk away. He didn't.
"What the hell happened to you?" He was standing next to her now, she could feel it, but she kept her eyes tightly shut. "Rachel? Are you ok?"
"Do I look ok?" she bit out harshly.
She felt him take a step back. "You look like hell," he commented casually.
"I'm covered in baby chickens," she said, voice wavering.
She felt a hand on her elbow. "They're just eggs," he told her.
"I'm a vegan," she hissed. "I don't eat eggs because they turn into baby chickens! And now I'm covered in them!" She felt the moisture welling in her eyes and squeezed her eyes tighter still, willing the tears not to fall.
She heard him swear under his breath. "Who did this?"
"Jesse." The name came out as a sob and she swore herself. So much for not crying.
"Are you kidding?" He actually sounded amazed. "Why would he do that?"
"Because everyone was right?" she said angrily. "He never wanted me, he was just using me. He went back to Vocal Adrenaline and now they're intent on making my life miserable. As if the students of my own high school harassing me isn't enough."
She knew him well enough to know he was probably looking away, guiltily. She knew him well enough to know he hated that she knew him that well.
He pulled gently on her elbow. "Come on."
She sniffled, trying to contain the rest of her tears. "Where are we going? Do you have feathers stashed somewhere? Because, I must tell you, that would just cap off my whole look."
"Just come on."
He walked her slowly, steering her. He didn't speak again, except when they reached a curb. "Step up," he said, maneuvering her gently.
She did as she was told, not even caring that he was probably setting her up for more humiliation. She had been kidding about the feathers, kind of, but she wouldn't put it past him to march her into the first classroom he saw and stand her there to be ridiculed.
But even as she was thinking it, she kind of knew better. He was not the world's nicest person, she knew that better than anyone, but he hadn't thrown a slushie on her since they'd dated, since he'd been covered in one himself. And he'd pretty much taken care of anyone else who had. He'd never admit it, and she'd never ask, but she knew he was the reason the slushies had stopped completely. She still kept clothes in her locker, because, hey, it was high school and you never knew what was going to happen.
Like being covered in eggs and humiliated by the boy you loved, by the boy you thought had loved you. Her breath hitched and tears slipped from under her closed eyelashes.
"Shit, Berry, don't cry," he muttered. "We're almost there."
She knew the moment they entered the halls and she braced herself for the laughter and ridicule. It never came.
"We're missing sixth period," he grumbled, but she knew he didn't care. He never cared about missing class.
She heard a door open and she thought, for about half a second, that he actually was leading her into a classroom to be displayed for all to see. But as he navigated her gently through a doorway, she found she didn't care. If he wanted to make a fool of her today, he was welcome to take his best shot. She didn't think she could feel any worse than she already did.
She heard the sound of metal scraping the floor and she flinched away involuntarily. He cupped her elbow again, a little more firmly this time.
"Relax, Berry." He tugged her forward and she went, mostly because she didn't know what else to do. "Sit." He pushed her gently down into a chair.
It wasn't until she heard water running that she realized he was actually going to help her. All of a sudden she knew they were in the bathroom and he was going to help her get cleaned up. She was assaulted with a sense of déjà vu, the memories of being in here helping him clean the slushie out of his hair strong and overwhelming.
"Tell me if it's too hot," he murmured, pulling her shoulders back so she was leaning back over the sink. The warm water felt wonderful on her scalp and his hands worked their way gently through her tangled hair. She relaxed her face and the tears seemed to come on their own accord this time. He didn't say anything about them and neither did she, content just to let him help her while she experience a severe emotional breakdown.
A rough, wet paper towel dabbed gently at her face, washing away the sticky remains. A dry paper towel followed and she knew she could open her eyes.
She didn't.
His hands went back to her hair, gently pulling, combing, making sure all the egg was removed. She relaxed into his touch and tried not to think of all the precious baby chickens that were currently being washed down the drain.
The water stopped suddenly and she tensed.
"You still keep a change of clothes in your locker?" he asked quietly. She didn't understand why he was being so quiet. It was almost as if he was afraid noise would ruin something, bring everything shattering down. She realized bitterly that it might.
She murmured that yes, she had clothes in her locker.
"I'm going to get them," he said, his tone gruff. "I'll be right back."
She didn't ask how he knew her locker combination. She'd gotten enough nasty notes and pornographic drawings in her locker to know that her combination wasn't exactly a secret.
She stayed still for approximately five seconds after she heard the door shut and then she reached back, wringing out her wet hair. She opened her eyes with a sigh. Time to stop hiding.
She grabbed the pile of paper towels on the sink and crossed over to the mirror. She attempted to dry her hair with the cheap paper products as she stared in the mirror, trying to see what it was that they all saw, what it was that made her so hated.
She turned her head to the side. Her profile wasn't horrible. Her nose stuck out, of course, but she had long ago accepted it as part of what made her unique. If Barbra could keep her nose through all of her fame and stardom, Rachel Berry would keep hers.
She turned back to face the mirror. She wasn't hideous, she knew, not really. Sure, she wasn't gorgeous like Quinn Fabray and she didn't ooze sex like Santana Lopez but she had never actually thought that was a bad thing.
She turned her body sideways, examining her figure. Not bad. She had lost her baby fat late, of course, but she was health conscious and always made time every morning for a workout.
She turned back to the mirror and stared deep into her own eyes. Was there something there, something that everyone else saw that she did not? If there was, she couldn't see it.
"It's not you."
She jumped at the quiet voice behind her and berated herself silently for not listening for the door. He came forward, holding her clothes out for her. She took them, staring at him silently.
She hated herself for needing to know, for needing him to tell her. She always prided herself on never showing weakness to them, never showing them how much they got to her. Every slushie she'd taken, she'd taken with her head held high. She'd never cried, never, until she got home. And she'd never asked why, even though she'd always wondered.
He seemed to sense she wasn't going to move until she got her answer and she hated him a little for that too. He got the satisfaction of humiliating her for her entire high school career, up until recently, and now he got the satisfaction of knowing that she needed to know why. Life wasn't fair.
"It's not you," he repeated. "Not really."
"It feels like it's me," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes.
He put his hand awkwardly on the back of his neck. "It's not," he said again. "You…you're going places. Someday. You're one of those people that just knows what to do and how to get there. Not everyone is like that. But for now…for now you're in high school and you're one of us and if people can make you feel like you're nothing…well, they feel better about themselves."
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." But it wasn't. It was high school and juvenile and completely predictable. And she was ashamed that it worked.
They stood in silence and she thought he wasn't going to say anything else so she took her clothes into one of the stalls. She was halfway through changing when he spoke again.
"Jesse's a douche," he said. She said nothing, focusing on getting her clothes off without getting egg in her hair again.
She heard him pacing outside the door as she slid her skirt down her legs, letting it pool around her feet on the floor. She dressed slowly, feeling as though she were in some strange alternate universe.
A universe where Puck was actually nice.
Noah, a little voice in her head reminded her. He's always been Noah to you.
She opened the stall door slowly and he turned to meet her eyes. She said nothing and she could tell it unnerved him.
"Looks better," he said, nodding once.
She said nothing, taking her clothes to the sink and rinsing them as best she could. She felt him come up behind her and his hands settled on her shoulders.
"He won't get away with this," he said lowly in her ear.
"I know," she said quietly.
They stayed like that for several minutes until the bell rang and noise filled the hallway. He stepped back and she knew without even looking that he was running his hand over his head, where that strip of hair used to be.
"Come on, Berry," he said finally. "I'll take you home."
