So this is my new chapterfic that I'm gonna start, since Somebody To Love is almost over. D: But this is kind of different. It'll be kinda like a bunch of diary entries, but then I'll probably add a little story to the last half of the chapter. So let's see how this goes.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN Glee, or these characters. They belong to Fox. All I have is this fanfic idea.

Dear Diary,

I'm really sleepy today after taking my meds. I seriously think I slept through four whole periods. Or maybe that was just a dream. I'm still not too sure. Today was also Cheerios! tryouts. I was sleepy during those, too. I just hope I make it. 'Cause if I do, that will be three years in a row. Right? Three comes after two? I don't really remember. Counting makes me sleepier.

Oh, yeah. Three years. It's like that Britney Spears song, 3. It goes 'One, two, three. Peter, Paul and Mary.' So yeah. Three years.

Ha. I should start counting using people's names. So it would be Mary years. One more than Paul, and two more than Peter.

Or wait...then would it be Peter more than Paul, and Paul more than Peter?

I don't know. Now I'm confused.

Haha Paul. That's a person's name.

But anyway, I really do hope that I make it. Even though Coach Sylvester can be a butt-head.

My mom told my sister that butt-head isn't a nice thing to say. But I'm like, well you can't always be nice. Sometimes you have to be...not nice.

Then she said that being not nice is being mean. And I don't want to be mean.

People say that San is mean. But I don't think so. I mean, she's nice to me. I've only ever seen her be mean to Rachel. And Finn. And Mr. Schuester. And Quinn, and Puck. And that Asian girl in glee club. I think her name is Teenie.

You know something diary? You're a really good listener. You don't interrupt me, or yell at me, or fall asleep when I'm telling a story.

Do you ever sleep, diary? I think you do. I think you secretly sleep when I shut you.

Ha. I just shut you for like, twelve seconds. So was that a nap? Or is twelve seconds actually like, eighty-seven seconds in diary time? How long do you have to be asleep in order for it to be considered a nap?

So many questions, diary. Life shouldn't be so full of questions.

Well anyway, I think I'm going to go call Doctor Cawkwell, because my hand hurts after talking to you. Hmm. Strange.

Love,

Brittany S. Pierce
xoxo

PS. Cawkwell sounds like Cock-ball. Haha.

PPS. Isn't a cock a type of bird? Like a female rooster or something? I don't know, diary. So many questions, and Google can only answer so many of them.

][

Brittany shut her locker. She liked to shut it carefully and gently, and not forcefully and violently like other kids at McKinely liked to. She wanted her locker to know that she respected it, so she could get respect back. Also, the slamming noise scared her.

She reset the lock by giving the dial a quick twist, then, with her duffel bag hung over her shoulder, made her way to the gymnasium. It was 2:30 and after school, and, like many other girls walking in the same direction, she was trying out for the Cheerios!

Brittany had made the squad for the first time her freshman year, three years ago. Now, being a junior, she was hoping to make varsity again so she could be co-captain. Then that way, when she made varsity next year, she could be captain. And everyone knew that being captain of the Cheerios! put you on top. Brittany liked being on top. Well, from what she knew. She liked being on top of the jungle gym when she went to the playground with her little sister.

She pushed the metal bar on the red door and was instantly met with the sunshine pouring in from the row of windows bordering all the way around the large gym. The floor was shiny and had the McKinely High logo in the middle circle, and the word McKinely at each end of the floor, right where the soft mats on the wall met the hardwood. She followed the rest of the girls to the bleachers and climbed up to the third row. Everyone sat in class order; so the freshman were on the floor, then the sophomores one row up, then the juniors, then the seniors. She allowed her blue eyes to scan over the heads of the row, trying to spot one person specifically.

Brittany spotted her and she seemed to spot Brittany at the exact same time, because she jumped up out of her seat in the middle of the row.

"B!" She called out, waving at her. Brittany gripped the strap on her bag.

"San!" She crawled over the laps of the girls, all the way to the middle, where Santana Lopez moved her bag from next to her on the bleachers to the floor in front of her. Brittany deshouldered her bag and set it down next to Santana's, before sitting down next to her. Santana sat down with her.

"I can't believe some of these girls trying out." The brunette whispered to her as she looked over the freshman and sophomores. "Like look at that fugly mofo." She said, pointing her long, tan finger at a freshman. Brittany's eyes followed the invisible line to the girl.

"Could be worse." She said simply, and Santana scoffed.

"Yeah, I guess. I wonder what she looked like before the nose-job."

Brittany pressed her lips together. She was used to Santana's sardonic humor, the way she made fun of people and was constantly judging others. And in some ways, it was kind of funny. Santana always had a comeback, always got the last word, always got up in peoples' faces. She didn't mind being called a bitch at all. In fact, she found it somewhat amusing. And Brittany liked the fact that Santana always stuck up for her. She liked that she was the only person that was able to the soft side of the Latina.

The red doors swung open loudly, causing Brittany to jump. Santana put her hand on the blonde's knee, calming her. Coach Sylvester, in her red tracksuit, walked in, a megaphone in hand. She stood in the center circle on the court, taking a minute to look over all her future cheerleaders. She brought the megaphone up to her lips and clicked the button. It made a loud screeching noise, causing almost all the girls to cringe. Brittany plugged her ears and leaned into Santana.

"Hello ladies." She began. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and her free hand behind her back. "As I look over this year's batch of disgusting, wanna-be Cheerios!, I see a few of you who have potential. I also see a handful of you sophomores who didn't make it last year and that, for some reason, makes you think you'll make it this year. Then, there's the rest of you, who are just horrifying to look at."

As Coach Sylvester went on and on with her talk into the megaphone, Brittany seemed to grow used to her loud voice resonating throughtout the gym, and she closed her eyes. Santana's thumb stroking her knee through her jeans didn't seem to help keep her awake, either. So before long, the blonde was out. Her head bobbed and landed on the brunette's shoulder. Santana used her elbow to jab Brittany in the ribs to awaken her.

"Brit, stay awake." She whispered. Brittany rubbed her eyes with her fists, but just snuggled closer to Santana's side.

"But San, my eyes are heavy."

"B, you mean your eyelids are heavy," She corrected, her right hand moving from Brittany's knee to around her waist. "But you gotta stay awake. If Coach sees you sleeping she'll cut you, no doubt."

Brittany seemed to pull off of Santana, but the Latina's arm stayed wrapped around her small waist.

An hour later, Coach finally began to wrap up her talk.

"...And so, I managed to escape the fire that the Chinese had caused, and saved that little pig's life, who later went on to become known as Wilbur in the movie Charlotte's Web." The girls around the gym didn't understand, and no one dared to try to ask a question or correct her, so they all nodded.

"..Dismissed. Now go wash off that horrible smell of failure. I'm talking to you, freshmen." She lowered her megaphone and turned on her heel to leave the gym. When the door finally clicked shut, the room breathed, and everyone all started talking. Brittany blinked, obviously confused. Santana just grabbed her bag and rose out of her seat.

"San, can you help me with my Spanish homework?" Brittany asked, picking up her own bag. She followed Santana out of the row, down the stairs leading all the way up the bleachers, and out of the gym.

"Uh I guess," Santana said. "But you'll have to learn how to do it yourself eventually, or you'll never pass that class."

Brittany nodded and took a few long steps to catch up with Santana. She looked up at Brittany, who looked at her and smiled, before hooking together their pinkies. Their arms swung lightly as they walked in perfect harmony.