How the Cheerios brought Santana and Brittany together.


Santana had never noticed Brittany before. Not at the try-outs or when the cheer-wannabes rushed the announcement board where Coach Sylvester had posted the final list of highly-coveted Cheerios spots for the season. At the time, Santana couldn't care less who was there. All she cared about is that her name made the list. Most of her competition had been weeded out in the first and second rounds of selection and her biggest competition – that pretty blond girl with the glitzy green eyes and killer body –made the team so Santana supposed they would have to be friends…or at least get along. Santana flashed a fake smile at that girl named "Quinn" – Who names their kid that, Santana thought – when she walked over and asked, "So what size uniform do you wear?" They both wore a size 2, their bond as Cheerios was sealed.

Then came that fateful day, one practice away from the football team's opening game of the season...

Coach Sylvester choses Santana to be the peak of the Cheerios' pyramid formation; the most sought-after position that goes to the lightest, feather-weight girl on the team. On that day, Santana under weighs Quinn by two weeks' worth of skipped lunches. Yes, Santana is light-headed and can barely see Coach Sylvester when she makes her selection, but Santana couldn't be prouder…to see Quinn seethe with envy. Who's prettier now, green-eyed bitch, Santana thinks as she holds her woozy head high and shaky arms up into a victory V as she looks down at the admiring mignons below her.

With her hands square on her hips, Coach Sylvester gives a satisfied sneer and approving nod to the perfection that she masterfully created in front of her; she signals her Cheerios to descend in an orderly fashion. Well, someone at the base "conveniently" forgets to extend their arms into the bridge that is supposed to catch Santana as she falls from the top. All Santana remembers is screaming and a painful thud. When the bright lights clear from Santana's head, she manages to catch a glimpse of Quinn shaking her head in disappointment and sauntering away. Santana believes she hears a snicker, too.

When Santana fully regains focus, a slender, small-boned hand reaches out to her, its owner says, "Hi, I'm Brittany."

"Whatever," Santana responds annoyed as she hoists herself up with the help of Brittany's friendly gesture.

"That was a great dismount," Brittany says.

"Hell-o," Santana retorts. "Did you notice? I fell right on my ass."

"That was cool."

"What planet are you on?" Santana yells at this ingrate whose name she has already forgotten.

"I'm not sure," Brittany says, pausing reflectively. "Sometimes its earth and sometimes its Saturn. I like the rings."

"Are you for real?" Santana wonders with unbelievable curiosity.

"Is that a trick question?" Brittany asks, confused.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Santana asks forming the number "2" with her hand.

"Five," Brittany responds very confidently. "The other four are folded up."

Santana blinks silently as she recounts the fingers on her own hand. She finally takes in this tall, super slender, long-legged blond, from head to toe, with the perfectly pulled-back pony tail – not a hair out of place – and the vacant blue eyes that don't seem to actually focus on anything in particular.

"You know," Santana says still eyeing Brittany like she is the 7½th Wonder of the World. "I'm strangely not repulsed, intimidated or insanely jealous of you."

Finally extending her hand in camaraderie, she says, "I'm Santana. You've just made a new friend."

"Cool," Brittany responds as they walk away arm-in-arm.

"By the way," Santana asks. "What size are you?"

"Five foot eight."

"No, I mean your uniform. What size it your uniform?"

"Three foot one," Brittany responds matter-of-fact.

"Amazing…" Santana says in wonderment.

"Thanks." Brittany says as a big grin forms across her face. "Lord Tubbington is going to really like you. Do you speak cat?"