Rachel Berry, Meet Your Sister: Chapter One

May I just say: I do not own Glee or any of the characters. My OC characters are mine, however, so ask before you use (if you want to. Seriously, just ask. I'll be flattered)

Please enjoy.

My mother didn't say a word as she dropped me in front of the Berry household. Her hands were tight on the steering wheel and I knew she was restraining herself from leaping out of the car. Stopping herself from running into that house and scooping The Rachel into her arms. Instead she barely glanced at me and motioned for me to get out.

For a moment I wondered what she would do if I refused to get out. Refused to go along with her plan. But then I looked into her eyes and knew that what was left of my mother's love wasn't here in this car with me. I rolled my eyes and threw myself out of the car, grabbing my duffel bag and guitar.

"See you later, mum." I saluted her mockingly and let a smirk curl my lips when she glowered at me. I obviously stopped smiling when she turned a stupidly longing gaze towards the house. I slammed my car door shut and strode to the porch and didn't look back when she sped off, leaving me stranded here.

The door opened the second I stepped up to it. Of course they were a frickin' perfect family. Great. The man that greeted me, way too enthusiastically may I add, was tall, and incredibly gay. His husband was smaller and had glasses and was slightly less obviously gay.

"You must be Jo!" I liked the Berry fathers. They seemed really nice and kind and I felt bad taking advantage of them like this. When it all turns topsy-turvy like I know it will, they will totally still like me. Sarcasm, if you didn't realise. Hiram bundled me up in a bear hug and I hid a wince behind a smile. These people were too easy, too trusting.

"Hello Mr Berry, and Mr Berry." I offered them a smile and they ushered me in eagerly. Eagerly, that is, until we were face-to-face with their love child. Rachel Barbara Berry. The most perfect person in the world. I stopped in front of her and extended a hand. I knew that I was pale and no doubt my smile looked like it belonged on a zombie but this was what I had to do. "Rachel, I presume?"

She smiled so widely I watched to see if her face would crack. It didn't. She gripped my hand before practically tossing it to the side and throwing herself at me, hugging me tightly. Like father, like daughter apparently. I glared at Hiram and, again, hid a wince. What was it with these people and personal space?

I went to introduce myself but she began to babble. "Wow, hi, it's so lovely to meet you. I'm so excited for you to live with us. My daddy and I have already set up the guest bedroom so you are free to explore that right now if you would like." She hesitated for the briefest second before diving headfirst into her next rant. "My dads told me that you grew up in New York. Was it amazing? New York is the city of my dreams. I'm so excited about going there and I will be a star one-day and perform on Broadway, like my idol – Barbara Streisand. Perhaps you would like to accompany me on one of my, what is sure to be, numerous visits to the city. Since you are well acquainted with New York, I feel that you would know how to be safe and would be an excellent tour guide. We could watch a Broadway show and you could take me to the best shops and eateries. Perhaps you know of a place that attends to the vegan diet?" She paused to take a breath and I finally had the presence of mind to hold up a hand. Sparing a glance at the parentals, who were no doubt mocking my ability to deal with this word vomit, I frowned at Rachel.

"What was that?"

She blushed and lowered her head in shame. "I'm sorry. I get nervous sometimes and I speak too much. I'm quite normal usually but I'm a little flustered. My dads love you." I ran a hand through my hair and clenched my left hand tightly so that I wouldn't feel the compulsion to tap my fingers against my leg – nervous tic. I ignored the fact that my fist was now tapping on my thigh and nodded to Rachel.

"Use less words. It's more efficient and I'm more likely to listen to you." She seemed a little hurt at my bluntness and I sighed. "I don't talk much when I'm nervous." Which is always, my mind whispered. She seemed to take this in and nodded before grabbing my hand and dragging me up the stairs.

"This is the guest room that we have prepared for you. I do hope that you like it." She took a step back and let me open the door. It wasn't anything special. The walls were cream and the bed was big, with a chocolate brown comforter, which I loved. I whispered that to Leroy who beamed at me and I felt my heart sink. These people were much too nice for this. I made a mental note to talk to Hiram later tonight.

Glancing around the room, I think I fell in love. There were shelves, and a large desk, and a beautiful bookcase. I itched to unpack all of my books onto the shelves and Rachel beamed and clapped her hands. "The bookcase was my idea," she said. "You said in your e-mails that you owned many books and I thought having a place to put them would make you feel more at home." I nodded and thanked her with a tiny smile. Thankfully they left before I could burst into tears.

I sat gently on my bed, and dropped my bag on the floor next to it. What the hell was I doing here? I collapsed sideways onto the extremely comfortable bed and stared, unblinking, up at the ceiling. I've done this ever since I was little. The first time I remember doing it was when I was seven and ignoring one of my mother's rants. I focus on something, anything, and put all of my attention towards it and after a little while everything else is sort of pale and insignificant and I can ignore voices or images really well. I'm also brilliant at repressing memories and emotions. I know, I know, you don't have to say it. I'm practically the poster-child for 'Healthy Teen Minds'. Okay so I'm a little messed up. Who isn't?

In this instance, however, I take the cake. My mother has manipulated me into posing as a tutor at McKinley High so that I can get close to Rachel and eventually reveal to her that my mother is her mother and that we are half-sisters and Rachel will love us even more than her own family and run away with my mother and they will live happily ever after.

I know what you're thinking – I am a terrible person. That part is true I will admit, but relax. I'm not going to go through with it. I just want to know what kind of person Rachel is that has my mother ignoring me and making up all sorts of nefarious plans to steal back her long lost child. Yeah, I'm that kind of person. I use nefarious in common parlance. Oh, that wasn't what you were shocked by? Oh, you were shocked by the fact that I'm Rachel's half-sister. My bad, should have mentioned it earlier.

Josephine Maria Corcoran, but you can call me Jo. I have an evil mother who prefers a girl that she's never met to her living, breathing, present daughter, and I am an evil twenty year old posing as a tutor (although I really am a very good tutor) so that I can become close to my little baby half-sister so that my mother can steal her away.

So, I'm not sure if I should continue this. Please review with anything.