Two quick things: I don't own Glee, and I hope you guys don't like Finn.
"Q," Santana approached me with a slushie in her hands. For half a second I thought she was going to throw it at me, but then found the thought ridiculous.
"Here you are, your Highness," Santana said in her usual sarcastic tone, handing me the slushie.
"What do you want me to do with this?" I asked admittedly stupidly.
"What do you think, dumbass?"
I shoved the cup back into her hands, "I'm done slushying people, Santana."
"Actually, I just want to give you a drink."
"Really?"
"No. Nobody drinks slushie in this school, blondie. It's a weapon. Use it."
"I said I'm done slushying people. Last year, I got slushied a couple of times and it sucked," It was true. Getting slushied was terrible physically, not to mention having a crowd witnessing it.
"Well, if you don't wanna go there again," Santana lowered her voice, not wanting to be heard by anyone else since we were in the middle of the crowded hall, "you have to do this. It's eat or be eaten."
"What do you mean? No one is stupid enough to slushie me. Or us. We're the scariest bitches around."
"True. But there are new competitors for the crown on the golden head of yours," the Latina said, looking over her shoulders, "See that Cheerio over there, four o'clock? That's Natalie…"
"Nasty Nat from Cheerios? There's no way she is stealing my spot," I said with a snort, "She fell flat on her face the last time she tried to do a flip. I don't even know why Coach let her stay on the team."
"She might be at the bottom of the pyramid on the field, but off, it's a whole different thing. And you know why Coach let her stay on the team?" she didn't wait for my answer, "because she's ruthless. To be honest, she's much more a bitch than you are, no offense. Or maybe a little. Anyway, if she went blonde, you know what Coach would say? 'You remind of a young Sue Sylvester, though you don't have my bone structure' or some shit."
"I thought that was me," I said, feeling dumber by the minute for not knowing anything going on in this place.
"Exactly, that was you," she rolled her eyes at my slowness, "Until you went all softie after last year's 'incident'," she said more gently this time, knowing Beth was a sensitive subject for me.
"You know why I did that. Not that I, or you, would admit it to anyone else," my turn to lower my voice, "but we both love Glee club. It's home. And if we keep bullying people, we're going against everything Glee club represents."
"Don't you get it?" she questioned impatiently, stepping closer to me, "Bullying people is the only way to protect ourselves," she looked behind her once again, "See the two Cheerios on either sides of Natalie?" I looked at that direction and saw three girls in red and white uniform marching down the hall, other students automatically parting for them, "Who does that image remind you of?"
"Us," I said the obvious, "The three of us. You, me and Brittany."
"Correct! You know how hard it is to maintain our badass reputation with two innocent blonde ponies on my side? Brittany is, well, Brittany," she said and we both smiled, "But you, you've gotta put yourself together, okay? You're the top dog. We're the Unholy Trinity. Not Nasty Nat and her henchmen. If you keep on going this way, this softie, slushie-free way, it's only a matter of time before we completely lose our popularity to those rookies, and everyone will bully us just like they bully other Glee club losers," she then looked at me with intense eyes, "And I don't know about you, but I don't wanna get slushied, I don't want you to get slushied, and most importantly, I really don't want Brittany to get slushied ever. Okay?"
She finished her little speech and left me in silence to think. Of course, as usual, she was right. Although her way of putting things made me want to punch her constantly, she was always right. I was so close to being dethroned now and that couldn't happen. Not again. It was eat or be eaten. And I was ready to go out on a hunt.
"Fine. I'll do it," I said with a tiny sigh and Santana didn't smile, she just nodded, "Target?"
The Latina's head turned around, then she pointed her thumb at the crowd of students.
"There. Nobody cares about her."
I looked in that direction, and felt taken aback.
"Rachel?" I said slowly, trying to find an excuse to avoid all this, "Can't slushie her, Finn's her boyfriend."
"And what exactly is Big Foot going to do about it?"
"I thought Big Foot is Coach's name for Beist?"
"Now, if you're done being a smartass, let's get back to the problem, shall we?"
I glanced at Rachel, then at Natalie, then back to the slushie in Santana's hand, begging for me to use it like I used to.
"Fine. Let's get this over with," I said, taking the cold cup from Santana, and started walking away.
"And don't forget witty mean remarks," she called after me, "That's one of the few things you're good at."
Good to hear.
People started running when they see their HBIC with her loaded weapon. Members of the football team and the Cheerios just calmly watched, happily waiting to see which loser's unlucky day it was.
I walked at such speed that it might have looked like a movie in slow motion. Maybe I was lucky and the bell would ring before I reached my target.
Me? Lucky?
Before I knew it, I was right in front of the unmistakable diva. She turned away from her locker and smiled at me her trillion-watt smile, which made this a trillion times harder.
"Hello, Quinn. Good to see you. I am thrilled about Glee this afternoon, I heard Mr. Shuester is going to pair us up for duets. Aren't you excited?"
For a moment, I thought about lifting the cup to my mouth and gulping down the slushie but of course, that wasn't what I did. I lifted the paper cup, which seemed as heavy as a rock, and splashed the iced liquid on Rachel's face.
She gaped at me with utter shock, while laughter roared from the students around us. I absolutely failed to see the humor. Tears welled up in the pair of chocolate eyes in front of me. I didn't know if it was because the freezing drink stung her eyes or because she felt so shocked and humiliated. Either way, all I wanted to do was to say sorry.
Then I saw something besides the tears and it made me angry. Pity. She looked at me with pity.
"I know you're mad, but I'm truly just tryna help you out," I told her with the most honest voice I could fake. She furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, "Now you'll have no choice but throw that sweater into the fire, Manhands."
My 'witty mean remark' once again elicited laughter from the watching crowd. Some were not so pleased though. Finn glared at me, shaking his head but did nothing more. Natalie looked disappointed, but only because she knew she couldn't take my place just yet. And of course, there was Rachel, who stared at me with the saddest eyes ever. I felt like I had just run my car over a puppy or something.
So I turned to walk away quickly before I could apologize or did something equally lame.
Classes seemed too long for my liking that day. My mind kept replaying the scene of me slushying Rachel. God, the way she looked at me. I used to slushie people all the time, why should this once be any different?
Finally, when I saw Rachel's hurt and sad expression in my head for the 101th time, the bell rang. I walked, rather subconsciously, along the halls, stopped in front of some classroom, and pushed the door open.
It was only when I was inside that I realized where I was. It was the Glee club room, and Rachel was sitting right there in the front row. I was about to walk, or run, back out when Mr. Shue saw me.
"Today we have a very interesting assignment," he told me with a certain bright smile that reminded me of a certain someone, "so let's hurry. Take a seat, Quinn."
Great. Of all the days he can choose to be on time.
I sat down on a chair as far from Rachel and Finn as possible. Both of their heads had shot up at the sound of my name, and they were no doubt staring at me.
"So, let's start," Mr. Shue said, clapping his hands together.
"Mr. Shue?" Finn voiced hesitantly, then blurted out as if he couldn't put it any other way, "Quinn slushied Rachel this morning."
The whole club fell silent. It wasn't news to anyone, but I could practically feel their heads whipping from me to Rachel. Freaky how it seemed like a tennis match, in which Mr. Shue was the referee. I myself avoided all eye contact and chose to stare at the piano like a total idiot.
"Why did you do that?" Mr. Shue asked me worriedly.
"Yeah, Quinn, why the hell did you do that?" Finn echoed in his own style.
"Like you did anything about it, Finn," I said, still staring at the piano, and heard a hint of anger in my own voice. I knew I should be glad that no one cared to protect my slushied victim but for some reasons, it pissed me off.
"Is that true, Finn?" Mr. Shue turned to the freakishly tall boy, "You witnessed it but didn't do anything?"
Finn's face turned red and he muttered some incoherent idiotic things. I wanted to smirk but before I could, it was my turn again.
"Well that's not very nice, Finn, but you're the one responsible for it, Quinn," he told me solemnly and suddenly the air in the room felt so thick, "Rachel is a member of our little family, we have to protect each other. I'm not saying that slushying other students who isn't in the Glee club is okay, just…"
"If it's okay, Mr. Shuester," Rachel said and she sounded kind of sad, or maybe it was all in my guilty head, "I'd rather move on with our exciting assignment than discuss about slushie."
I tried my best not to look at her, fearing whatever emotion she had in her eyes for me.
Mr. Shue scratched his chin in deep thought, then smiled and turned to the board.
"Duet," he both said and wrote on the white surface. Everyone started to break into exciting talks about this subject.
"I so got this. I'm thinking about a song from…," Kurt announced, glancing at Sam.
"Whoa, slow down, cowboy…" Mr. Shue laughed, holding up his hand.
"Or cowgirl," Santana joked and Puck high-fived her.
"Anyway," Mr. Shue continued, "the duet couples will be decided by me. And they are," before anyone could protest, he said quickly, "Santana and Kurt…"
"WHAT?" was heard from both of them.
"Artie and Mike Chang…"
"No way!"
"Finn and Puck…"
"You've gotta be kidding me!"
"Mercedes and Brittany…"
"My chocolate doesn't go with no vanilla, Mr. Shue!" and "Not true, vanilla chocolate ice cream is awesome."
"Sam and Tina…"
"Can I get Quinn/ the other Asian instead?" respectively.
Wait, that means…
"And finally, that leaves Quinn and Rachel."
My eyes switched swiftly to Rachel, who looked as if her eyeballs were about to jump right out of their sockets. At least she wasn't screaming. Unlike the rest of the club.
"You guys stop yelling!" Mr. Shue yelled, "It's decided. I want all six couples to finish preparing in a week and perform next Thursday, okay?"
"No it's not okay!" Puck shouted.
"This is a joke, right?" Kurt's turn.
"You know what the next week's headline will be? 'Massacre in McKinley'! Because half of us will be killed by then, by the other half of us." Santana said, earning serious nods in agreement. "Massacre means killing a lot of people, honey." She then added to a confused Brittany.
"No one's going to die!" Mr. Shue yelled again, "This is a great opportunity for you guys to bond. Listen, a great duet is like a great marriage…"
A word shot up in my head, Faberry, and I laughed at the thought. Fortunately enough, the laughter couldn't be heard through the very pointed gagging and snorting from others.
"Singers complement each other," Mr. Shue ignored it and continued, "Push each other to be better…"
"I'd rather push your white ass into the fire, Fashionista," Santana snidely commented, Kurt just shook his head incredulously.
"Mr. Shue, how can you pair Rachel with Quinn?" Finn started again, "Do I have to remind you that they hate each other? Especially after this morning?"
"It's not up for discussion, Finn," Mr. Shue said firmly, "It's the whole point of this week's lesson to learn to respect each other. Quinn," Crap, "Slushie Rachel again and you're out of the Glee club."
'Oooooh's were heard from several club members.
"Now, everyone go sit with your partner and discuss your song choice," Mr. Shue ordered.
He then groaned in frustration when nobody complied but instead stared at him with disbelief for a good five minutes, "Fine! Just leave now. But I expect, no, I demand a performance from each and every couple next week."
We all sighed and left our seat, finding a friend to complain about what just happened.
"I can't believe it!" Santana exclaimed as she escorted me to my car, "I got the gay kid! That's so unfair! Not that I'm against gay, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," I heard Brittany say with a giggle, "I got Mercedes. She's okay, but I think she doesn't like me," she added with a, no doubt, adorable pout. Santana immediately put her arm around her… friend?
"Pay no attention to her. Fattie's just scared you're gonna do better than her," Santana said sweetly, then turned to me, "Why so silent, Q? What's on your mind?" she asked with the politeness she only had when around Brittany.
"I... got paired with Rachel Berry," I answered, only half conscious.
"Yeah," Santana said, sounding sympathetic, "I can't decide which one of you two is more unlucky in this situation. Imagine singing a duet with someone who just bullied you, or doing it with someone you just unwillingly bullied."
"Well, I don't have to imagine, because…" I repeated, still not believing my luck, "I got paired with Rachel Berry."
So you've probably noticed that I'm not a native English speaker. I'm just someone who like to write and learn the language so if ya can comment about the use of words, that will help me a lot. And Quinn'll get the hit in the head in chapter 2. Thanks!