Dedicated to B.
On the third anniversary of being published I wanted to breathe new life into this much loved story, the first one I ever told. This is my gift to the many fans of the original and to the new readers this story will hopefully gain…
Chapter 1: Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me
Soul mates.
If you were to ask anyone at McKinley High, this would be the response. It was a simple enough response to an easy enough question. There was nothing complicated or difficult about it. Just like the couple it was used to describe.
Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated.
"Are you still coming over for dinner with my dads tonight?" Rachel had pulled in close to whisper softly in her boyfriend's ear. Finn. The love her life. Her everything. She could see him smile from the way his cheeks moved closer to his eyes. It was homeroom, the first of many classes the pair shared together. She glanced to the front of the room, making sure Mr Schuester had his head down and away from the third row. The young teacher was marking attendance near the large whiteboard, not paying either of them any mind.
"Wouldn't miss it." Finn placed an affectionate kiss to the top of her hair. Rachel smiled in return, slipping an arm through his and resting her head against his shoulder. She exhaled an easy breath and pressed her cheek further into his letterman jacket, smelling his comfortable scent. Most of their fellow students were used to seeing the couple like this; close, attached. Teachers had long ago learnt to turn a blind eye as well, not bothering to reprimand them or tie them to any of the school rules.
Kurt Hummel however, Rachel's best friend, had started making gagging noises at them from the row opposite. The boy turned his perfect lips down in mock disgust, but let a smirk slip when Finn narrowed his eyes at him in confusion. Rachel merely grinned, and turned to the front in time to hear the Principal announce the daily notices over the school's PA system.
It hadn't always been like this. Easy. Simple. There was once a time when someone like Rachel Berry, all book smarts and natural talent, would've been avoided like the plague; a social outcast from the pretty and the popular. And there was also a time when someone like Finn Hudson, the star of McKinley's football team, would have only ever spoken to Rachel to hurl a snide remark her way from the back row of their history class. But ever since the McKinley High Art Department, namely the Glee Club, had begun winning more national titles than their cheer squad, it had become socially acceptable for the couple to be exactly who they were. The quarterback and the choir geek. And very much in love.
The bell sounded midway through Principal Figgins announcements, everyone retrieving their book bags and shuffling out of the room. Grabbing Finn's hand, Rachel led them to their English class on the other side of the grounds. As they walked down the hall hand in hand, they received the usual greetings and smiles from their peers. Even freshman knew who they were, a group of younger teens parting like the Red Sea for the juniors as they walked by.
The morning was more or less uneventful. Double English and Math; two classes Rachel shared with Finn. She sat in the front row of Mr Zillmere's English class, flipping through the assigned text she'd finished over the Christmas break; The Scarlet Letter. Finn's best friend, Noah Puckerman, hadn't even read past the front cover, the boy blowing a bored breath over the loose pages that lay open on his desk while their teacher scribbled on the blackboard.
Rachel found the book interesting enough, if a little light on. She never did feel challenged in the core curriculum subjects, being able to sleep through them if need be and still get straight A's. Rachel excelled in everything, keeping a steady 4.0 GPA since freshman year. But her real passion lied within the Art subjects, such as Music and Drama. Something about getting to be someone else, even for just a few short moments, or singing your heart and soul and not feeling self-conscious, was liberating for Rachel. Under all the stress of being the Golden Girl, she could get out on stage and just let it all float away, she was in her element. No expectations. No bullshit. Just her, a stage, and a spotlight.
It was freeing.
Finn had told her it was the same for him and football. When it was the fourth quarter with 10 seconds to go and the ball was beneath his fingertips, he could let it all fall away. He told her once that it made him feel like he could fly. Even though they came from different worlds and had different passions, Rachel could relate. She was never really a sports fan, but being the devoted girlfriend she attended every game with Finn's mother, Carole, and Kurt's father, Burt, just as Finn attended every music solo and drama performance, sitting front row centre with that unruly mop of hair and that lopsided grin.
Looking across the lunch table at him now, Rachel could see their lives together. The big house, the three kids, the golden retriever. Only of course after a successful film and Broadway career, and after Finn had lived his dreams of playing in the NFL. But someday.
Rachel smiled at him when he caught her staring, thinking to herself how lucky she was in all she had. Thinking how easy it was to be with Finn. It was like breathing. They never fought over anything, or disagreed. They were so similar, yet so different. They just worked.
She turned her attention to Kurt sitting next to her, who was toying with his garden salad and staring dreamily at the jocks across the cafeteria. They were throwing a football between themselves, their hollering and wolf whistles echoing around the lunchroom. His attention appeared to be consumed by Sam Evans, a blonde boy who had transferred to McKinley first semester of junior year and who played on the football team with Finn.
"Earth to Kurt." Rachel waved her hand in front of the boy's face, causing him to jerk back out of his revere.
"What'd I miss?"
Rachel chuckled at her friend, "I was about to say we should get to Drama, the bell's going to ring soon."
Standing up from the lunch table, Rachel lent down and gave Finn a light peck on the lips, before leaving to get to class with Kurt in tow. They walked down the hall as it slowly filled up with students, chatting to each other as they went. And it wasn't just Rachel. All her friends seemed to elicit the same reaction from the student body. It was subtle, like gravity. Some students were drawn to them, lifting their heads as they passed, while others seemed to stand closer to their lockers, unconsciously giving them more room.
Rachel still remembered what freshman year was like for her and her friends. The daily slushie facials and the dumpster tosses. So it was a status she never wished to give up, and one that thankfully didn't appear to be changing anytime soon.
The friends walked into fifth period Drama class just as the bell rang. She would usually despise any kind of curriculum that strayed from the state required teaching, but something about Ms Holiday's methods always seemed inspired to Rachel, rather than contrived. She always had a way of looking at things from the students' perspective. While it was important they learnt the classics such as Shakespeare, Ms Holiday was adamant that Wicked, Rent, and Rocky Horror were just as important, if not more relevant to today's youth.
Rachel took her usual seat around the edge of the classroom next to Kurt. Their teacher preferred that the seating arrangement be a circle of chairs, no corners or rows, so that all students were equal. And she even joined the circle too as she had no desk of her own.
"Okay guys, were gonna try a bit of a role playing exercise today," Ms Holiday exclaimed with an excited grin as she sat cross-legged on her plastic chair. All her students had taken their seats, some retrieving notebooks from their bags to begin the day's lesson. "So break off into teams of tw-"
"Sorry I'm late, Holly," came a voice from behind Rachel. "Figgins got his panties in a bunch about my little fieldtrip to Taco Bell." The late arrival plunked herself down in the spare seat next to Rachel, dropping her satchel on the ground near her feet; just Rachel's luck that it was the only seat left.
"So nice of you to join us. Class, this is Santana Lopez, she just transferred from my Spanish class."
She was met with timid murmurs and polite smiles, most of the class having heard of Santana or having at least seen her around campus. Rachel hadn't had the privilege of sharing a class with the girl in her three years of high school and she had wanted to keep it that way. She was everything that Rachel wasn't. Impulsive. Truant. And she had a blatant disregard for any school rule.
"So, as I was saying pair up and lets get started." People begun to eye each other off, making wordless agreements to work together. Rachel was about to turn to Kurt when Ms Holiday piped up, "Actually, Rachel, since you're at the top of the class I figured you could show Santana the ropes."
Kurt gave her an apologetic look and stood gracefully from his chair, pairing with their friend, Mercedes, instead. Rachel gritted her teeth and stared after him, incredulous.
Traitor.
"I am not pairing up with her, Ms Holiday," Rachel said in a hushed tone. She glanced sideways at Santana, who was currently filing her nails in a rather bored manner, not paying any attention to the exchange between student and teacher. "She clearly doesn't care about this class, and I'm not going to let her drag down my GPA just so she can feel welcome."
"It's just one exercise, Rachel," Holly tried to reason. "You can go back to ignoring each other after the hour is up. Or whatever it is you kids do these days."
Rachel heaved a sigh, not enthused about the idea of spending the next hour fending off insults from the girl that still hadn't looked up from her nails. But it was her respect for her teacher that made her reluctantly agree to the absurd request.
"As usual you can wander the school, find a place you and your partner can brainstorm. Guidelines for this exercise are by the door on your way out," Holly instructed. "And no going into the girls' locker room," she chastised before anyone could go far. "I'm looking at you, Puckerman." The teacher exited the room, shortly followed by the rest of her students, only leaving the two girls in the now empty classroom.
Rachel swallowed dryly and brought a hand up, nervously fixing her fringe that hung neatly above her brow. She had begun to feel more than a little uncomfortable at being left alone with Santana, not even being able to hear the echo of her peers' footsteps down the hallway beyond the room. She chewed her lip, trying to ignore the silence and read the worksheet she had retrieved from the pile near the door. It seemed the exercise was to create a two-minute dialogue piece where you would each take turns impersonating the other and perform it during the next week's class.
When Rachel looked up from the page, Santana had her eyes down and was peering over her shoulder at the worksheet. The girl's lips were pursed in a tight line, but the slight glint in her eye told her Santana was enjoying making her feel uncomfortable. Rachel quickly scooted her chair over a few inches, causing it to screech across the linoleum floor and echo off the polished wood panels of the walls.
"I'm sorry if me being in your general vicinity repulses you, but there is no need to be rude," Santana said out of nowhere, startling Rachel. She stared back at her with wide eyes, slightly put out by her partner's sudden abruptness, briefly wondering if she was possibly bi-polar.
The corner of Santana's mouth started to quirk up after a few silent moments, and realisation hit Rachel. "Are you making fun of me?"
"Impersonating, actually," Santana corrected.
"I do not talk like that," Rachel said, furrowing her brow, her hands going nervously to the hem of her skirt.
"Tut tut, Berry. Stay in character," Santana remarked with a smirk. "And yes, you do."
Rachel composed herself, "Whatever. Not that I care, but we should probably think of a situation to go with this."
"Wow, that was uncanny. It was like looking in a mirror," Santana mocked, her eyes wide and glinting. "My impeccable talent was just shining through in that performance."
"I'm fairly certain the reason for this lesson wasn't just a poorly laid excuse to mock your partner."
"Well when you're paired with the Golden Girl of McKinley, why pass up the chance?" Santana had a huge smirk on her face, clearly enjoying this. Rachel looked pointedly at her in an effort to get her to take the task seriously but failed, Santana just continuing to sit there un-phased by her attempt at intimidation.
Rachel took in a deep breath, already feeling her impatience rising, "Can we please just get on with this?"
"Sure, how about we play it like an interview?" she suggested with a noncommittal shrug.
Rachel agreed as they had already wasted enough time as it was, and she didn't want to waste anymore arguing with the girl. "You're really talented. Does it just come naturally to you?" Rachel started, using the opportunity to talk herself up to her partner. "You know, the spotlight and the stage…"
"Well, when I asked God for a complex, he decided to give me a few other useful gems as well," Santana quipped, her dark hair brushing her chair as she sat back, that infuriating smirk still in place.
"Hold up, I don't think I'm better than anyone else," Rachel argued.
"You are so straight edge," Santana stated simply, breaking out of character.
"No, I'm not!"
Santana snorted, "Okay, Berry. Exhibit A, Holly-"
"Ms Holiday."
"That right there is Exhibit B. But A, Holly let's us go anywhere in the school and you chose to stay here." Santana opened her arms wide that had previously sat across her chest to indicate the classroom they were currently in. She looked at her pointedly, waiting for a rebuttal.
Rachel huffed, getting agitated by this girl's self-righteous attitude. She'd heard Santana was opinionated and had no qualms about voicing those opinions, but she'd never met such a judgmental girl in her life.
"All the costumes and props are here, what reason do I have to leave. Besides, you'd just find some way to blow the lesson off if we were to venture outside the room."
Santana seemed to think about Rachel's words for a moment; probably imagining all of the ways she could indeed get out of doing the assignment. Instead, she turned serious. "So that's what you care about?" she asked her in an even tone. "Getting your perfect score? Getting out of Lima?"
Rachel looked at her as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. There wasn't a student at McKinley that didn't want that. But Santana laughed at this, and not out of amusement. She clearly disagreed with Rachel's mind set and priorities.
Instead of arguing with her further, Rachel decided to humour her. Just this once. "Okay, Miss 'I-Don't-Have-A-Goal-In-Life', where would you have gone?"
"Outside."
"We can't, Santana. It's raining, in case you hadn't noticed." Rachel was getting further irritated with the girl's lack of logic and work ethic when Santana stood swiftly from her chair.
"Yeah, I know." At this point it was only a faint echo from down the empty hall. Santana had already made her way out of the classroom and was nearing the front doors at the end of the hallway when Rachel poked her head around the corner, watching as the girl broke through the exit. Rachel rushed out of the room just as Santana escaped into the downpour beyond. She made her way passed the entryway, spotting her lying on her back, star fished on the footpath, droplets of rain already touching her bare arms.
"Santana, get back in here," Rachel whispered harshly for the protection of the awning surrounding the main building, fully aware of the fact that she sounded like a mother scolding her child.
"I'm fine where I am." Santana had her eyes closed against the rain, breathing in heavily. She was already drenched, her plain black singlet clinging to her chest and her fringe sticking messily to her forehead.
"How do you suppose were going to get any work done with you playing Rain Man?" Rachel edged. "And yes, I've seen the film and I know what I'm implying."
"Why not come here?"
"Are you insane?" Rachel faltered, realising who she was talking to, "Who am I kidding, of course you are."
This caused Santana to chuckle, and as annoying as the girl was, Rachel had to admit she had never heard anything so beautiful or carefree. But it didn't change the fact that they were losing time with this non-sense, and Rachel had never failed to complete class work in her life and she was damned if Santana was going to ruin her perfect record.
"Please, Santana," Rachel reasoned. "Can we just go back inside and finish this. We don't have to go back to the classroom, just somewhere preferably dry."
Santana sat up, bringing her knees to her chest and brushing her wet hair from her face, her black jeans stretching tight over her toned thighs.
"I'll make you a deal. You stay under the awning, I'll stay in my puddle, and I promise to do the exercise with you."
Rachel sighed, conceding before sinking into a crossed legged position on the footpath. Santana shuffled along the wet concrete so that she was sitting face to face with her.
"Okay, do you want to stick with the interview scenario?" Rachel asked, getting straight to the point.
"I like this one."
Rachel cocked an eyebrow, confused. Which wasn't something that usually happened. But leave it up to Santana to be the one to do it.
"Me, out here in the pouring rain. And you, dry and safe under your little shelter."
Rachel caught the double meaning to Santana's words. Instead of ignoring them, she decided to go with it. Two could play at that game. "I don't give a fuck about my future."
"Well, I have a ten year plan. I have my perfect life and my perfect boyfriend. I'll marry him and he'll be my forever."
"But Lopez, wouldn't you rather live each day and not give a shit, it's so rewarding?"
"But without a man, how would I validate myself? And without my Tony Awards how would I ever know if my life was a success or worth living?"
"Who needs awards when you have the benefit?"
Santana stiffened immediately at her words, a feeling like lead hitting Rachel's stomach; she knew she'd gone too far. Santana's situation wasn't exactly a secret at McKinley, so to shove it in her face as Rachel had just done and use it to hurt her to protect her own ego was a new low. She knew she was fortunate in all she had. So to tear someone down for not being born into that privilege wasn't exactly fair. It was known that the girl was from a single income home on the poorer side of Lima, whereas Rachel lived on the other side of town with Finn and all the other pretty and popular.
And as much as the remark seemed to hurt Santana, she didn't retaliate.
"San-"
"The bell's gonna go, we should head inside." And with that Santana got up and headed back toward the double doors. Rachel followed her, sticking back and listening to Santana's heavy boots squeak against the polished linoleum. She knew she shouldn't have said it. No one deserved to be shot down like that, having their circumstances shoved in their face.
Feeling another pang of guilt, Rachel reached out and gently grabbed Santana's wrist, her tanned skin slick with rainwater. The girl didn't flinch away from her touch, but rather just turned around and faced her with a dejected expression, her full lips pursed.
"I'm sorry for what I said," Rachel apologized, remorseful. "I wasn't thinking."
"Why be sorry, you were just being me." She gently retracted her arm and walked into the classroom, where Ms Holiday was typing away on her Blackberry.
"So, how did the assignment go, and also why are you wet?" Holly queried with an amused expression.
"Great," Santana responded, and further shocked Rachel by adding, "Therapeutic even."
"Turns out I didn't need to show her anything. She took the reigns on this one, no pun intended."
"Awesome, told you Drama was better than Spanish. That class is such a drag."
The girls took their seats, Santana deciding to sit next to their teacher; the furthest chair away from Rachel. For some reason this made her chest constrict slightly, which confused her. Why should she care, she doesn't even like the girl. She's judgmental and rude, and she doesn't care about anyone but herself. She's nothing.
But no matter how hard Rachel tried to convince herself and no matter the way she worded it, the tightness wouldn't go away. It stayed there, as stubborn as the girl that caused it.
The rest of the students started to wander back. A few glanced at Santana with quizzical looks, probably wondering why she was dripping water all over the floor. But most seemed to shrug it off as Santana being Santana, and took their seats again in the circle.
Kurt sat back down with a friendly smile on his face, Rachel's mind still elsewhere. "So how'd it go with Satan?" Kurt asked lightly. "I expect she tore you a new one. That's if she can even act."
Rachel hadn't taken her eyes off Santana since they re-entered the classroom. She shook her head with a huff, putting the sinking feeling down to pity, and nothing more.
"I actually held my own, thank you. I am Rachel Barbra Berry after all," she jested back, earning a chuckle from her best friend.
She didn't see it necessary to add that for the first time in her life she wasn't proud of it.