I made it to senior year.
Honestly, I'm surprised. I almost failed junior year. But I plan to do better this
year. Much better. I want to go to college, right?
Right.
"Hello? Santana? Did you hear me?" Quinn snaps.
"Where am I?" I ask, confused.
"It's only the first day! Snap out of it!" She shouts.
I nod as I realize we're in a crowded hallway. I don't even remember walking
here.
"I was trying to tell you that Puck mentioned something about a hot new
English teacher, and he needs to be pulling Bs this year. How can he do that
with a distraction?"
A hot English teacher? When was the last time McKinley hired anyone under
forty?
I daze again, thinking about the new Cheerios uniforms and how the skirts are
even shorter this year.
Magically, I wind up in a classroom.
I check my schedule. I should be in English. There's a bunch of books around,
so I must be in the right place.
As I take out my notebook I hear the click-clack of heels against the tile and
whistles of horny boys. I look up to see the teacher.
Quinn's mouth is open.
"She's not that great," I say.
But she's great.
Black pencil skirt, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes hidden
behind thick black glasses.
Way to go McKinley.
She starts talking about the books we'll be covering this semester.
I lie my head down on my desk and "Santana, wake up!" Quinn hisses.
I jolt up. I hear snickers.
The teacher is in front of my desk, arms folded across her chest.
"Why so tired, Ms. Lopez?" She asks.
"Cheerleading practice, Ms..."
"Pierce," she finishes, noticing I didn't know her name. "Don't doze again. You
wouldn't want detention your first day, would you?" She asks.
"No," I say quietly.
Ms. Pierce nods and returns back to the board.

I get called into Principal Figgins office during Chemistry.
I honestly don't know what's going on. I've been good today. No fights, no yelling,
nothing. This is my year to shine.
"Sit, Ms. Lopez," Figgins says. I do as I'm told. "It's come to my attention that you
have a low GPA. Very low. Like 1.7."
"Yeah, so? I plan on making As this year," I say.
"With honors classes and Cheerios schedules?"
Oh no. I know what he's going to do.
"Please don't-"
"It's what's best for you Santana! Turn in your Cheerios uniform and return your
textbooks. Your new schedule will be ready for you tomorrow morning."
I want to punch the living day lights out of him, but I don't because that would ruin
my plan to keep good.
Damn this plan.