A/N: Okay, so, this is me jumping on the bandwagon known as the Faberry ship. This is my first attempt in writing for Glee and it's been awhile since I last wrote. I will admit…not my best work. To me, it sounds a bit choppy and all over the place. If there's anyone interested in helping me out with like ideas and beta-ing, feel free to contact me! Otherwise, enjoy.
Don't forget to review! I need the feedback.
Pen in hand, Rachel Berry appears to be making overly detailed notes during her AP History class; unknown to the outside world though, little attention was paid by the diva towards the story of the Russian Revolution. Instead, Rachel Berry sat doodling in her notebook with a glazed, distracted expression written on her face. Unbeknownst to said student was the intense glare of a certain blonde a couple seats to her right.
"Ms Berry, would you so kindly tell me the name of the man who led the Bolsheviks victory during the Civil War?" Asks the grey-headed man at the front of the room. Without a moment's hesitation, the brunette drops her pen, flips her page and glances up to give her answer.
"Well, Mr. Mauver, it was Lenin's right- hand man, Leon Trotsky that led the Reds, who are the Bolsheviks seeing as the Whites consisted everyone else who opposed, with the use of transportation such as his train that lead to the easy distribution of weaponry and the lack of –"
"He gets it, Man-Hands," interrupts a familiar blonde with a perfected HBIC venom-laced voice. "Why not shut up and let him continue on with the class?"
Rachel had turned her gaze to the side as soon as the Cheerio spoke up and was met with the image of Quinn casually filing her nails. Mr. Mauver clears his throat and resumes to writing on the board, explaining the reasons why the Whites lost the civil war.
Rachel continues to look at the blonde, observing her ministrations of going between filing and writing notes. Before she knows it though, Quinn looks up and returns the diva's gaze, raising her perfectly sculpted brow as if to question – no, challenge the gawking brunette. Rachel just about gives herself a whiplash, switching her eyes back down to her hands on the table. As a blush begins to develop on her skin, the bell signals the end of class.
Quinn is out the door before she could even gather all her books. Making her way out of the room, the feeling conflict between relief and disappointment leaves Rachel confused. Out in the hallway, the brunette sees Quinn by her locker, talking to her quarterback tree of a boyfriend; she feels a strange pang of jealousy and turns her gaze elsewhere. Before she can dwell on it though, a chilling voice speaks up behind her.
"Thirsty, Berry?"
Without even a beat to react, she feels the painfully cold embrace of the grape flavored slushy as it makes its way down her hair. The unfortunate victim makes her way to the toilets, after having stopped by her locker to fetch her very own 'slushy kit'; she rushes to avoid the laughing faces of the student body, including the a not-so-stone-cold eyes of a certain blonde cheerleader.
Looks like I need a new comb.
In one of the many toilets in William McKinley, Rachel finds herself staring bitterly at her reflection, seeing a disheveled ghost of a teenager who seems to be holding a comb missing a majority of its teeth. From the state of her hair, one could deduce just how her comb had come to be. Giving up on fixing her looks for the day, the diva cleans up her equipment and gets ready for lunch.
"Nice to see the squirrel found a home," comments Tina as the brunette takes a seat beside her.
"What on earth are you talking about?" She questions the goth. "I can assure you that those furry animals ha-"
"Talking about your hair, Rachel," she cuts, pointing at a certain area where the brunette seems to have grown a forest. Becoming more self-conscious by the minute, Rachel brought a hand to her head and sought out to smoothen it.
"Yeah, well, you see my hair brush was a little less than helpful while I was in the bathroom earlier. You know, cleaning out the slushy-induced damage," she replies. Tina simply nodded in understanding while the unholy trinity walks past their table, Santana's elbow effectively nudging the back of the diva's head.
"Watch it, Rupaul!"
Rachel sighs deeply, as if to exhale growing frustrations on the treatment she was given in this hole. Lunch came and went and so did the rest of the school day. A few shoves here and there, added with a spitball in her English class, Rachel deemed her day complete once the bell rang.
After gathered her belongings, the brunette makes her way to the choir room for Glee club; a renewed confidence and smile put in place on her features.
"Okay, guys," Mr. Schue greeted the club, "I've got some news."
The room broke out in noise, everyone turning to their sides to discuss the potential announcement.
"We've recently been chosen to perform during the annual Lima Carnival!" The man exclaims from the front of the room.
Mixtures of "No way!" "O-M-G!" and "This is so exciting!" were heard amongst the clubbers.
Clapping his hands, Mr. Schuester attempts to regain the attention of the class, "I know, this is so great!" He starts, "But we only have 10 days to get it together and perfect. So how about we split into groups for a couple minutes to choose songs?"
A/N: SO…not much has really gone down as of yet, just warming up. Bear with me. Again, I'm going to need help with ideas later on and someone to read over and edit shit to see if it's all right. Let me know if it's worth continuing!