Chapter 1:
Santana had never been so acutely aware of how good her vision was. Standing there, her words trapped in her throat, hands balled into white-knuckled fists of pure terror, and body thoroughly vanquished of any and all mobility, she could see with horrifying clarity each individual face persecuting her; each set of eyes boring into her, sending waves of heat prickling over her skin. Rachel was to her left where she had been relocated when Santana charged in moments earlier, giving the girl an unceremonious shove and barking,
"Out of my way Huckleberry Hound." Rachel now stood in a frozen tantrum; right leg cocked, hands set firmly on hips, her mouth was contorted with rage and Santana could practically see the brimstone burning in her irises. Quinn sat in the leftmost chair, leaning forward on her forearms; fingers laced together, brow furrowed and lips pressed together in a smooth line in a look of stern curiosity. In the back row to Quinn's right were Zizes and Puck. Loren was utterly (and thankfully) wholly unconcerned with Santana's presence as she popped a large green bubble, her fingers clicking away over the buttons of a Game Boy, the screen of which her eyes were glued to. Puckerman was sprawled out in his chair, arms crossed over his chest with his stereotypical arrogant sneer playing over his mouth. Directly in front of the unlikely pair in his wheelchair, Artie's chin jutted into the air as he glared down his nose at Santana with an undisguisable look of contempt. Behind and to his right, perched Mike and Tina. Mike's arm was around his girlfriend, as if to protect her from the wrath of Santana, although he wore the same look of fearful anticipation as she. In the row below them, Kurt and Mercedes peered at her. Kurt's eyes squinted penetratingly at her, as though he knew that this was no normal tirade Santana was about to embark on. Mercedes' face, on the other hand, held a poorly masked thirst for the drama that was no doubt about to ensue. In the rightmost two chairs of the back level, Mr. Schuester and Finn sat next to each other wearing amusingly identical looks of astonished confusion, eyes wide and mouths agape. In the middle level below them, Sam's eyes refused to meet Santana's as he glanced sideways from underneath his blonde hair in a feigned look of disinterest. Finally, in the first row in front of Sam, was the one face that actually mattered; Brittany's. As Santana's eyes flicked down from Sam, the first thing they rested upon was Brittany's mouth, just as they had the first time that they had met…
"Yeah, that's right Puckerman! Take your sorry ass begging somewhere else! Ain't no one gonna tie this hot piece of action down!" Santana roared after Puck as he quickly skulked away, head down trying to hide the blaze forming on his cheeks. Santana's mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk as she began to pedal backwards the few steps to her locker when she slammed into someone behind her. "HEY!" she snarled, spinning around, a verbal assault forming on her lips. However, she didn't get to unleash it; for when she turned around, her eyes only met the mouth of a girl much taller than her, upturned in a delightfully oblivious smile. Then the mouth opened and,
"HELLO!" was bellowed into Santana's startled face. Utterly at a loss for words, Santana stared up at the face that harbored the mouth, which had now returned to its endearing grin. Pacific blue eyes stared back into Santana's chocolate ones. The girls face was fair, and lightly freckled, her forehead covered by a curtain of blonde bangs, the rest or her hair pulled back into a slick pony tail; she was undeniably beautiful. Then, the face was bending down, and Santana pulled her head back as the face was thrust uncomfortably close to hers. "HELLO!" the blonde trumpeted again, inches from Santana's ears. Santana clapped her hands over them, jumping backwards,
"Jesus! Why do you keep screaming?" She hissed at the girl. The girl pulled her face back, her brows knitting together, clearly confused.
"Well, you're deaf. That's why you yelled 'hey' to me. So I thought I should yell back. Are you only allowed to yell?" Santana's mouth hung open; for once no sarcastic remark or searing insult leapt from her tongue. She was completely unsure how to respond. The girl simply stared back, studying Santana's face as if looking for some sign of recognition from her. She sucked in a breath and yelled, "I SAID-"
"NO!" Santana interrupted her, clapping a hand over the girl's mouth, "I'm not deaf! I heard you! I yelled at you because you ran into me!" The girl fearlessly, but gently wrapped her slender fingers around Santana's wrist and removed the flesh muzzle from her lips.
"Well," she started, shaking her head lightly, "that doesn't make any sense because you ran into me. You weren't watching where you were going." Santana's eyes popped wider in shock; who the hell does this chick think she is?
"You know what, whatever blondie. You're only a first time offender so I'll let you off the hook. What's your name anyway? I've never seen you before, are you a transfer?"
"My name is Brittany," the girl replied with that demure smile. "I was homeschooled until now. What's your name?"
"Santana. Well, as lovely as this encounter has been, I gotta go, I'm gonna be late." Santana reached into her locker and grabbed her duffel back, slinging it over her shoulder with one hand and clicking the locker door into place with the other. She looked up at Brittany, who had been quietly watching her, and gave a quick nod of her head, "Well, I guess I'll see you around."
"Where are you going?" Brittany asked, her head slightly cocked.
"To Cheerios practice. See ya." Santana stated simply, and brushed past the girl in one quick step. She breathed a sigh of relief as she walked away, glad to be free of that unusual encounter. She felt strangely uncomfortable and disoriented in that girl's presence. Not because the girl was a stranger, or because she was clearly a space cadet, but because no matter how hard she tried, Santana could not manage to muster up anything mean to say to her. As a matter of fact, she didn't want to be mean to her. For some reason, she really liked that blissfully clueless little grin, and the idea of displacing it was inexplicably unsettling to her.
Not yet halfway down the hall, distracted by the image of that smirk still floating in front of her eyes, Santana almost jumped out of her skin as she felt a hand make contact with hers. She looked down to see an alabaster pinky linked to her caramel one. Her eyes traced their way up the offending hand, arm, and finally found the face of the perpetrator who had broken into her personal space.
"Wha what are you doing?" She stammered as Brittany beamed down at her with a proud smile that touched her eyes.
"Coming with you." Brittany shrugged at the obviousness of her action, "I love cereal." Santana searched the blue eyes fiercely for some early sign of betrayal, for the glint of an ulterior motive lurking like a shark just below the surface, waiting to strike. She could find none. There was only warmth and trust swimming in those ocean blue eyes. Santana dropped her gaze to the floor as a genuine smile intruded upon her lips. Santana nodded and squeezed the delicate pinky with her own as she lead Brittany to her first Cheerios practice.