Author's note: This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, so please leave me constructive criticism. This idea came to me while day dreaming in history class when we were learning about the dust bowl. Enjoy.
Chapter 1
"Wow, I didn't realise that taking care of a couple stupid stinking animals would be such hard work," Santana groaned. She walked across to the pigs' trough and filled it to the brim with the leftover scraps of dinner. The pigs came trotting towards their food, one knocking Santana out of its way and into a mud puddle. Mud splashed on her face and body. "I can't wait 'till winter when we get to eat y'all", she snapped back at the pig that shoved her. He ignored her as he noisily slurped away his slop. Santana huffed and blew the hair from her face. It was an especially hot day on the Pierce farm up in the panhandle of Texas.
She and her brother Mychal had been sent to be farmhands to the Pierces because their father couldn't hold a steady job. Sweat constantly formed in beads at the top of her head. Her clothes stuck to her skin like paste with the moisture exiting her pores. She trudged over to the two room cabin for her and her brother. She let slop bucket in her hand fall to the ground with a clang outside the cabin door. She then proceeded to her personal space where she stripped off her mud and sweat stained working clothes and pulled on a light-weight pink nightgown that her mother had made for her. Santana detested the color, but wore it because it gave her a sense of familiarity.
Santana liked familiar things. Most familiar things. She like seeing her mother's face every morning and the way she hugged her and always made her feel like she was important. Some things she wished never existed, like her father, George, and his infinite hatred towards her. He always treated her like less of a person than her brother, Mychal. Mychal was strong, burly, hard-working, and obedient. Santana was weaker, smaller, stubborn, and unplanned. He always rewarded Mychal for completing even the most remedial tasks. Santana worked hard too, but he couldn't care less about what Santana did or didn't do. Santana especially worked diligently in school. She made it to the top of her class, before she was forced to quit school to become a farm hand, so her father could sit on his lazy ass all day and still receive money.
It was true that Santana felt jealousy towards the praise Mychal received from their father, but she never hated him. Mychal spent many hours of quality time with Santana, strengthening their bond as brother and sister. Mychal was the single most important person to Santana, and Santana to him. They often talked to each other and Mychal comforted her when their father, usually in a drunken rage, would verbally, and sometimes physically, abuse her. Her mother did not partake in the abuse, but only acted as a bystander. George always told her that she was a worthless, good for nothing, mistake who will amount to nothing. Mychal always told her exactly the opposite and would wipe the streams of tears from her face. He was her rock, someone she could hold on to. On the farm she didn't cry as much as she used to. She enjoyed being separated from her alcohol-reeking father.
Mychal waltzed into the cabin, seemingly unfazed by the extreme heat and manual labor. "Santana, I'm back from the fields." he called out into the dimly lit cabin. The only light source was the sunset creeping in through the one window they had. Mychal grabbed a rag from the pocket of his overalls, took off his flat cap, and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
Santana appeared in the doorway, her thick curly hair clipped on to the top her head.
"Mrs. Pierce gave us some of their leftover rolls from dinner. They're sitting on the stove if you're hungry. And there's a pitcher of water on the table," Santana said. Mychal set his cap back on his head, took the rolls and plopped down onto one of the rickety wooden chairs that surrounded the beaten-up wooden dining table. He poured water into a tin cup, and drank large loud gulps." Careful with the chairs, Big Mike. We're lucky the Pierces gave them to us instead of throwing them away. And don't drink so much water. It hasn't rained in a while here," she scolded him. She set an example for him by gingerly sitting in the chair across from him. He rolled his eyes and laughed at his sister's gentleness with the old chair
"It's okay Santana, there are three other chairs. Plus, I fixed plenty of furniture at home. And besides, we've gone days without rain before. I'm sure there's a storm brewing just waiting to pour down on us." Mychal said while scarfing down biscuits, and draining his tin cup dry.
"You may be right about the rain, but the difference with the furniture, Mychal, is that you don't have any furniture-fixing money here. Almost all our pay is sent to dad. What we do get to keep is only just enough to allow us to survive," Santana argued. Her nose wrinkled and her eyebrow twitched in disgust at her own mention of her father.
"Santana, think of coming out here more like a vacation from Dad," Mychal said in response to the disgust that crossed Santana's face.
"Right, because coming all the way out into the middle of nowhere away from all familiar surroundings, taking care of a bunch of stupid animals, and being a maid to a rich white family is my exact definition of paradise," Santana said, spitting out sarcasm with every word.
"C'mon Santana. It's not that bad. Why don't you try to make friends with the Pierce's eldest daughter. She seems nice. She greets me every morning when I head to the crops." Mychal said with an encouraging smile.
"I don't know. You know I'm not good at making friends," Santana explained. She really only had one friend back home. A friend who barely tolerated Santana. Even though she had her brother, Santana usually felt lonely.
"Give it a shot, Santana," Mychal said, walking over to her. "Just try to make the most of everything while we're here," he half-said and half-yawned. Mychal left her at the old wooden table and went to bed.
Santana was now alone with her thoughts. She walked back to her own bed and layed down on the uncomfortable ropes. She thought about the eldest Pierce girl, reviewing her for a possible friendship. Santana decided that the next time the girl spoke to her, she would try to be as friendly as possible. For Santana Lopez, that wasn't much.
