Santana looked in the mirror, squirming uncomfortably in the itchy hand-me-down dress made long ago. The shade of ugly blue matched the bow in her crookedly cut hair. Her bangs were too short, not even covering her forehead, and it wasn't even in a straight line. Her Mama came over, looking tired. Santana crawled into her Mama's lap, burring her head into Mama's shoulders, small and fragile feeling. Mama's hair fell over the six year old, and Santana began to cry, just a little.
"Mi flora pequena, lo que está mal?" Her Mama stroked her hair, which was tangled and long, thick and soft all at the same time. Santana breathed in Mama's lavender perfume, feeling safe again. She pulled away, wiping the tears away. She heard the bus pull up to her small house, su poco casa, before kissing Mama goodbye. She walked in her ratty shoes to the bus, which was going to take her to school, since she no longer lived in Argentina with Tio Lorenzo on the farm, la granja, with her mama and her hermanos Micheal and Miguel. She now lived with Mama, no Micheal, no Miguel and no Tio Lorenzo, since he was with Dios now. Santana boarded the bus, not feeling like the graciosa flora pequena everyone said she was.
When Santana arrived, she was the only one sitting by herself, una bonita chica. One by one they file out of the bus and go into the school. She doesn't want to go in by herself, with a ragged backpack in a similar shade of ugly blue. But, Santana walks to her class, head bent in shame. All of the other girls have pretty new dresses, with short hair and one missing tooth. Santana stomps her left shoe in frustration, and it flies out from underneath her. New found tears prick into her eyes, and she runs faster, not looking back at the ragged shoe getting run over by other kids. Suddenly, she is on the ground, face to face with a beautiful blonde girl, una bonita pelo rubio chica.
The girl extends her hand, but didn't get up. Santana shook her pale hand, which only made the rich skin looked darker in comparison. The girl smiled, showing her missing two front teeth. Santana ran her tongue along the gap in the same place she was missing teeth, and smiled back to the pretty blond girl. Santana introduced herself, in a language that felt familiar on her tongue, unlike everything around her.
"Hola! Me llamo Santana Marie Lopez." The mystery girl's eyes furrowed, as if trying to decipher the language. When Santana realized what she said, she told the girl in English, not Spanish, which she knew as Espanol, "I mean my name is Santana Marie Lopez."
Her accent sounded different on a new set of word, a different language. The girl smiled, and introduced herself, attempting to mimic the sounds that came through Santana's mouth a few seconds ago.
"Me yamuhoh, um, Quinn Elizabeth Fabray."
Santana smiled at the girl, who tried to talk like her. Quinn smiled back, grinning at her new found friend. The words that she just tried to speak didn't sound as pretty as they did when Santana spoke with her different accent, which Quinn wanted so that she'd sound pretty too. Santana extended her hand to Quinn, and they held hand to get up. The six year olds looked around for their class, only to see that there was no one there to help them go anywhere.
"Santana, what are we going to do?"
Quinn's bottom lip quivered, and she felt tears in her eyes. Quinn hated being alone, even though she had a friend. Santana shrugged, "I'm new here. I dunno Quinn." She looked down, and saw that her right shoe was falling off. Annoyed, Santana flicked it, now barefoot in the dirty hallways. Quinn watched the shoe fly, and started to giggle. It broke apart midair, and the bottom flew from it. The two girls snickered with delight at this. A teacher came out. She had blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Santana and Quinn stopped, looking up at her.
"Girls, how old are you?" She asked. Santana froze on the spot, her eyes widening. She began to blabber in Spanish, trying to explain about her flying shoe, que vuelancalzado. The teacher immediately tried to calm down the girl, but Quinn already told her to 'shut her trap'. Santana obeyed, blushing a brilliant red.
"We are six years old." Quinn stated, her hazel eyes looking sternly at the teacher. The teacher nodded, and asked if Santana spoke any English.
"I speak English fluently. Me Tio Lorenzo was a business man. He taught me how to speak English properly." Santana nodded her head, as if she was convincing herself that she did, indeed, speak some English. The teacher showed them to the class, where Mr. Anderson was their teacher.
"Where are your shoes?" The teacher asked, before they left. Shrugging, Santana said they broke. Nodding, the teacher knew that this girl was going to be picked on in a heartbeat. He way her hair fell past her waist, the way she walked, with a little Latino flavor, hell, the way she spoke, screamed 'Loser' in Lima, Ohio. To be popular, you needed to be blonde, blue eyed, and have a sweet little voice, or be a huge leader. The other girl, Quinn who she had seen at Cheer! Camp for two years now, was the girl who was going places.
Maybe they could be friends for now. But, by middle school, Holly Holliday knew that they'd be mortal enemies. Or, they could defy all the stereotypes, the Latino could get her hair dyed, and then they'd absolutely be the girls who everyone envied?
Not a friggin chance in hell that that'd happen though.
"Bye girls." Holly Holliday waved them into Mr. Anderson's classroom, which was filled with boys, she noticed. Quinn's eyes brightened at the sight of a smaller boy, who had a baby face. She grabbed Santana's hand, and pulled her towards Finn Hudson.
"Hi Finn!" Quinn motioned for Santana to sit next to her. Santana sat, waving and whispering, "Hello." to Finn. Finn grinned back, and they paid attention to Mr. Anderson. He was talking about nouns, and verbs and how to write sentences. Santana already knew how to do this, and began to doodle on her sheet of paper. Tio Lorenzo was a much better teacher. He had fun, and didn't make Santana take notes. Mr. Anderson came over, and saw that Santana was writing in Spanish, instead of English. Santana looked up, and blushed at the sight of her paper.
"Miss, um, Santana, why are you writing in Spanish?"
Santana blushed, looking down. She wanted to tell him that she didn't mean to, and that Spanish was easier for her than English, but she didn't. Finn looked down, averting Mr. Anderson's eyes. Santana seemed really nice, but he always looked for the best in people. Quinn, on the other hand, looked at Mr. Anderson with courage.
"She prefers Spanish to English, Mr. Anderson." Quinn looked at Santana, who was now re-writing everything in proper English, and Quinn couldn't help but feel love for her bilingual, Latino friend.
When recess came, Finn abandoned Santana and Quinn for a guy named Puck. Santana smiled at Puck, who grinned back. He was about as tan as her, and he spoke differently too, but Quinn said it was because he said his 'th's like 's'. Santana already liked Puck, and they played all recess long, without their shoes on.
"Thanks for playing with me Quinn." Santana hugged Quinn goodbye, and boarded the school bus.
"Where are your shoes, missy?" The bus driver asked her. She told him the story, but he said it wasn't safe to not wear any shoes on the bus. Pouting, he made Santana get off, and told her to ask the blonde girl for help. She wished she knew a bad word to call him in Spanish, but since she didn't, she got off the bus, and looked for Quinn.
Quinn was being picked up by an older man, who looked like Quinn, but not really like Quinn. Santana ran over, tears in her eyes, because the older man had on a suit, and Quinn was wearing a pretty blue dress, much prettier than hers, and her hair was perfectly cut by a professional, she bet, and not her Mama, who was screaming at Miguel when she was cutting Santana's hair.
"Quinn?" Santana's voice was small, and shy. Quinn looked over at her friend, and told her dad to set her down. He set her down, and watched the two girls in fascination.
"Quinn, my shoes! Since I have none, the bus driver won't let me on!" Santana stomped the hot ground underneath her, not wincing in pain. She was too frustrated to notice her feet being nearly sun burnt from the black pavement beneath her. Quinn looked at her father, before telling Santana that she'd take her to her house. Santana grinned, and hand in hand, they walked over to Mr. Quinn's Dad's car.
Quinn and Santana animatedly chatted, talking about their favorite colors, and their favorite dolls, and what they wanted to be when they grew up. Quinn wanted to be a cheerleader; Santana didn't know what she wanted to be.
"You should come to cheerleading classes with me! Daddy, can Santana come with me tonight?" Quinn bounced in her seat from excitement. Santana looked at Mr. Quinn's Dad, who grinned with excitement as well. "Only if Santana's Mommy says it's okay." Santana and Quinn squealed with delight, and they started to talk about it.
Santana pointed to the road that led to her house, since Mama told her that they lived near the movie theatres, since Mama was going to work there. When they arrived at the small house, Santana noticed the locked doors. Frowning, she stomped her foot once again, before looking for a spare key. Mr. Fabray told Quinn to stay put in the car (not that she'd listen to him. She was bound to be helping them look for a key any minute) and walked over to Santana.
"Mr. Fabray, I can't find the keys!" She stomped around, looking under everything. Mr. Fabray knew it's be easy to break into the house, but decided against it. Santana kicked a rock, before walking back to the car, where Quinn was getting out of.
"Quinn, I need to go to cheerleading with you, since Mommy's not here."
Quinn nodded, and called her daddy over to drive them to cheerleading, even though it didn't start for two more hours. She said she wanted Santana to be as good as the others by the time they arrived. He, reluctantly, drove them, hoping Santana's mom would be mad. Just in case, though, he left a note telling her where they'd be.
Dear Miss Lopez,
Santana is with Quinn and her father (me) at 2365 West End Street. She'll be practicing cheerleading with my daughter, Quinn. Sorry that Santana isn't here; she lost her shoes and they wouldn't let her on the bus. It took us a good hour to get here, since 6 year olds aren't the best with directions.
-Mr. Fabray
Quinn and Santana jumped and Quinn taught Santana how to do back touches, handstands and cartwheels. Since Santana was really good at them, Quinn decided Santana was going to be her best friend, even if she had too long of hair, too weird of clothes, and a different accent.
"I can't believe I looked like that Q!" Santana pointed to her in a messy blue dress, too short of bangs, and no shoes. Quinn laughed, getting out a picture of her and Santana in their Cheer! Camp uniforms, a sparkly mixture of gold and black. Quinn laughed at their puckered faces and too heavy makeup for eight year olds. They were going through old pictures, which Quinn stumbled upon one day.
"You've certainly changed from that shy, little Spanish girl to a hot, sexy slut." Quinn smirked. Santana's eyes widened and she dug through the pictures in search of an embarrassing one of Quinn. When she found it, Santana showed Quinn punching Puck for calling her, "Cutie patootie."
"At least I didn't beat up my future baby daddy. You went from over protective, innocent Quinn Fabray, to bitchy, evil head Cheerio."
Quinn rolled her eyes, but smiled. They might have had some (a lot) of bad blood in the past, but it was the end of their senior year, and sure as hell, they had changed from the little girls they were in first grade.
"Hola, me llamo Quinn Elizabeth Fabray." Quinn giggled. Santana giggled right back.
"Me, um, yahuhoh Santana Marie Lopez." Santana sneered, jokingly, right back.
They both giggled, before turning back to their old pictures, wondering how the hell they turned out to be two of the most beautiful girls in school.
This just kept on writing itself, and then it kinda stopped here. A little Santana/Quinn friendshiping. The Spanish translations are pretty easy. San's mother asks "my little flower, what's wrong?" Sorry if the translations aren't good. I used Google and a few friends for some help:) Anways, review please! I love them all, big or small, long or short:)
-Madi