AN: So, in "New York" when Rachel heard Sunshine throwing up, she thought it was Santana. Why? Well, here's why. This is a one-shot unless I get a lot of people saying they want more. Not my best work, but I felt like writing it. For those of you who are following "Us Against the World", I'm working on it, I promise. I'm just so busy right now. For those of you who haven't, check it out.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, never have, never will.
The first time Santana got caught puking by Rachel, it had been the first time she had done it at school during her Freshman year.
She had been having a crappy day: her mom was actually home for once and to celebrate, she yelled at Santana for 20 minutes straight therefore causing Santana to miss her ride, so she had to walk to school, making her even later which meant she missed morning practice. Her first period teacher gave her a detention for being late without a note, and then Quinn spent the entire period whispering angrily to her, so Santana didn't even catch what the lesson was on, which meant that she didn't know how to do the homework. Fantastic.
During passing period, she found herself staring at Britt (fuck) and ran into a door, causing her to be in a bitchy mood to everyone, meaning that when Britt asked her what was wrong, she snapped, and Britt got that hurt puppy look Santana hated,which meant she felt even more crappy. She went to find Puck, because if anyone could snap her out of this weird staring-at-her-best-friend thing, it would be him, but when she found him he was sucking face with some super skinny, Varsity Cheerio. Then, at the very beginning of lunch, Coach sought her out and yelled at her for missing practice, calling her a worthless Mexican (ignorant bitch) and said that maybe if she weighed less she would've made it to school faster.
Needless to say, Santana's day was not going her way and so she felt disgusting after forcing herself to choke down some food while Quinn ranted on and on about Frankenteen. Purging wasn't a new concept to Santana; she had done it a couple (oh who was she kidding, a lot) of times at home after her parents made her feel particularly shitty. So after making sure to roll her eyes at whatever the hell Quinn was spewing, she stood up and announced, "I'm bored. I'll see you guys later." Santana really had to try her best to still look her bitchy self while avoiding their eyes, because while she really could care less about Little-miss-perfect-Quinn-fucking-Fabray, she was pretty sure that if she saw Brittany's confused baby blues she might actually start crying. And that was NOT an option.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Santana had to supress a sigh. Of course Britt would offer to come with her.
"No Britt, that's okay. I'll see you later." Before anyone could get in another word, Santana was already half way across the cafeteria. Which bathroom could she go to? No way in hell was she going to get caught; she couldn't afford to get caught. If she got caught by a teacher then they might actually try and make her stop, and if she got caught by another student they'd know that she didn't have ALL OF THIS just because God loved her. No way was she going to lose her go-to coping method, or her social status. She ended up deciding on the foreign language wing because, honestly, who chills near there?
After giving a quick once over of the bathroom to double check it was empty, Santana dropped to her knees in front of the porcelain bowl. She hesitated for a moment, because doing it at school just felt so wrong, but then she figured that she had felt that way about sex before Puck had his way in the janitors closet with her enough to change her view on that. It was now or never, and she could feel the food settling uncomfortably in her stomach. She took a deep breath and as she shoved two fingers down her throat, she felt herself begin to calm down.
Fifteen minutes and a few flushes later, Santana pushed herself off the floor and dusted off her skirt. See, no big deal. She had been worried for nothing. It wasn't until she pushed open her stall door and caught sight of the most hideous reindeer sweater on the planet that she realized that maybe she was right to have hesitated. Shit.
She watched as the girl's (Rebecca? Rachel? Who the hell actually cared enough to remember her name?) eyes widened upon seeing her. Santana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest as if to say Bring it bitch; in reality, she was shaking in her Cheerios-mandatory white sneakers. They stood in silence for a couple of minutes, staring each other down until the midget (seriously, the girl was shorter than Santana...and Santana was no Shaquil) took a deep breath and began to speak. "You know Santana, this is a dangerous game you're playing. Bulemia is a very serious disease. It damages not only your fingers, but your esophogus, throat, and teeth. In addition, the toll it takes on your health is..."
Santana finally managed to find her voice and snapped, "First off dwarf, you're no where near high enough on the social food chain to call me by my first name. Second, I'm not bulemic. I'm pretty sure that this school is feeding us prison food or something, because that stuff is rank. And third, who the hell do you think you are, talking to me? I've made people cry for less." Yeah, ok, it wasn't Santana's best, but at the moment the only thoughts going through her mind were SHITFUCKCRAPSHITDAMMITSHIT.
Santana watched in satisfaction as the girl's mouth narrowed and her eyebrows furrowed. "You know, I was just trying to help you. There's no need to try and and intimidate me. While I know that as a teenager you're probably unused to compassion from another I must..."
Santana held up a hand and effectively silenced the girl. "I don't NEED your compassion, ok? Let's get that straight. You can run along now RuPaul. I've gots to repencil my eyebrows." When the girl opened her mouth to protest, Santana ordered, "Go. Before I go all Lima Heights on your ass."
The shorter girl turned to leave and made it to the door before turning around. "Someday this habit of yours is going to take its toll on your health and there will be no one there for you if you refuse to accept help." She then turned and left, slamming the door behind her for good measure.
Santana let out a shaky breath. She was fine. She was okay. This wasn't a "habit". Yeah, okay, so maybe she did it at least once a week, and maybe no one else had actually noticed that something was wrong, but whatever. She was fine. She just had to make sure the midget didn't tell anyone. Luckily she was far enough down on the social ladder that no one would believe her,but still...The next day, Santana made sure to slushy her extra, just in case, accompanied by her worst glare. The sympathetic glance the girl shot her was worse than any insult would have been.