Hi guys,

This is an idea I've had for a while now and hopefully it's something original. Enjoy!

P.s. Reviews are almost as good as cupcakes so please review if you have time, thank you :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Glee characters featured in this fic.

"Mom, I'm tired of looking at this scrapbook. Can I go do something else?" Brittany said with a sigh, peeling the dried glue off of her fingers and flicking it into the trashcan underneath her desk. She'd been staring at the same two pages for an hour being unable to decide which picture fitted best with which patterned background. Originally she'd thought that the image of her snorkelling in Dubai would look best with the blue background but then she'd become distracted with the idea of maybe contrasting the colors and now she just didn't know. She didn't even really care.

"Please?" She prompted when her mother didn't answer.

"What was that, honey?" The older blonde asked, looking up from her knitting needles and peering at Brittany over the top of her slightly oversized glasses. Brittany hadn't said anything but they secretly reminded her of the ones that Velma from Scooby Doo wore. But her mother was most definitely not like Velma. Not at all. Velma was smart and sensible and well, normal. And Elizabeth Pierce was anything but. She'd married young, just after her seventeenth birthday to a man she'd met while taking a gap year on a small Greek island that no one had ever heard of. He'd been a few years older, with long hair and pale blue eyes. He'd wanted to be a writer. And a musician. And a painter. A free spirit, as Elizabeth would say. He'd managed to sweep the young blonde off her feet and they'd engaged in a whirlwind romance, spending their days frolicking on the beaches and their evenings sat around campfires with a group of hippies who lived in the same youth hostel as them.

Three months later they were back in Ohio, married and expecting a baby. Once Brittany was born, her father realized that settling down wasn't what he was ready for. Bills and lawn mowing and working in an office were not his idea of fun. So when Brittany was two years old, he upped and left. Just like that. Leaving Elizabeth to bring their child up alone.

Elizabeth had never quite found it within herself to grow up after that. She held onto her childish ways with both hands, fearful that if she let go, the responsibilities of both motherhood and adulthood would overwhelm her. Instead, she focused all of her attention on Brittany, even going so far as to homeschool her to protect her from the real world. She didn't want her daughter shut up in classrooms all day every day, having useless facts force-fed to her by people who were barely qualified to do so. She didn't need an A grade student for a daughter. She didn't need her to spend hours on homework every night. She needed another free spirit. Just like the one she'd lost.

With the help of her parents, she'd taken Brittany all over the world. They'd seen Broadway shows in New York, they'd been on safari in South Africa, had afternoon tea in England, visited the catacombs in Paris, snorkelled in Dubai. You name it, they'd done it. Life lessons and life experience should be top of the education system, according to Elizabeth.

"Can I please do something else?" Brittany repeated whilst having to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"What do you want to do instead?"

She shrugged and closed the scrapbook, not caring if the glue was dry or not. She didn't want to do anything that involved her mother or her schoolwork. Not that all of this could really count as schoolwork. She was well aware that this was not the kind of thing her friends at dance class were learning about. They were always talking about algebra and trigonometry and biology. Brittany didn't even know how to spell those words, let alone know what they actually were. She rubbed her forehead and stood up, being careful not to stand on any of the travel guides that littered the floor. She stayed for a second, waiting for her mother's permission to leave but Elizabeth was already once again completely absorbed in her knitting. She sighed quietly and left the room. She ran up the stairs, taking two at a time and let the relief wash over her as she shut her bedroom door. There was only so much of her mother she could take these days. She wasn't sure why. She thought maybe it was something to do with getting older. She was pretty certain that other eighteen year olds did not spend this much time hanging out with their moms.

She opened her closet and began searching through the piles of brightly colored clothes until she spotted her dance leggings. She pulled them out and put them on whist simultaneously scanning the piles for a shirt to wear. She settled on a light pink tank that she liked but almost always forgot that she owned. And she knew for a fact that she hadn't yet worn it to dance class yet this year so that was a bonus.

Pulling her blonde hair into a tight ponytail, she checked her bag for her water bottle and dance shoes. Both were already still there from last week so she picked up her bag, swinging it over her shoulder and walked down the stairs and out of the front door, just about remembering to yell a quick goodbye before she closed it behind her.

Freedom at last.

Dance class for Brittany was like stepping out into the fresh air after being locked in a basement for twenty years. Every time she set foot in that studio it was like it was breathing new life into her. Everything from the smell of the room to the sound of her shoes on the soft wooden floors filled her senses and she could breathe again. Her fingers would tingle and goosebumps would appear on her arms and legs and for the three two that she spent there, she knew she was exactly where she should be. Where she needed to be.

Tonight, being so eager to leave the house, she was the first one to arrive at the studio. The lights were on, presumably the lady who taught baby ballet had forgotten to turn them off, and Brittany smiled to herself. She very rarely got to see the studio like this. Empty and quiet and all hers. She kicked off her shoes quickly and placed her phone on the speakers, selecting a piece of soft contemporary music before positioning herself in front of the most central mirror. Breathing in deeply, she centred her core and placed her feet in fifth position. Arms in first. Chin up, shoulders down. Stepping back on her right foot she lowered herself into demi plié before pushing up into relevé and launching herself into eight consecutive pirouettes followed by the same amount of fouette turns. She whipped her head around quickly to avoid getting dizzy and she couldn't help but smile at the way her body relaxed into the movements. The more she turned, the easier it became. She could do this forever.

Well. Technically she couldn't. Because before long her supporting leg grew weak and she found herself slowing down, being careful to ensure that after her last turn she landed in fourth position demi plié without wobbling. Only when she was completely still did she realize that her breathing was rapid and shallow and she could literally hear her own heart beating in her head.

A few slow claps sounded from the entrance to the studio and Brittany whipped around, startled by the sound and almost a little embarrassed that someone might have seen her.

"Bravo, Miss Pierce." Her dance teacher smiled, leaning slightly against the half open studio door. Brittany could just make out a few colored leotards and ballet buns standing behind the teacher and she felt herself blush. She didn't like to be seen practising.

"Um, thanks." She managed to say, albeit a little breathlessly. She dropped her eyes to the floor, biting back the smile that she could feel toying with the corners of her mouth. It was very rare to get a compliment from Miss Lytton, let alone an actual applause.

"Did you all see that, girls?" The teacher had turned around and was speaking to the group of students standing just behind her. Brittany saw them nod. "Good. That's how you should all be turning."

There was a chorus of "Yes, Miss Lytton" as the teacher moved aside to allow the girls to file into the room and take their places at the ballet bar for the impending warm up. Brittany collected her phone quickly, tossing it into her bag before moving to the girls.

"Good job, Britt." Dinah smiled, genuinely pleased for her friend.

"Yeah," Natasha added, "That was amazing."

"Thanks." Brittany said, grinning at both girls. Out of the twenty girls here, she considered these two to be her best friends. Dinah had started here at the same time as Brittany. They'd both been four years old and had attended their first ever class together, dressed in matching pink leotards and tutus. They'd both cried when their mothers had left and they'd ended up holding hands for the whole hour. Dancing together for fourteen years meant that they knew each other inside out and Brittany wouldn't have it any other way.

Natasha, on the other hand, had only been dancing her for the past year and she was by far the youngest student in the class. She was ten but she'd pretty much devoted every day of her life to dance for the past seven years so she was already better than most of the teenagers there. She was smart too. Not the kind of smart that you get from being stuck in a classroom all day everyday but the kind of smart that came with the innocence of being a kid. Brittany liked that. It was the one thing that she really, truly understood.

Miss Lytton worked them hard for the first hour of class, having them do turn after turn until each of the girls had done it perfectly at least twice. By the time the teacher called a water break, Brittany's head was spinning and she had to wipe the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

"I actually might throw up." Dinah complained, falling dramatically to the floor by the gym mats and throwing her arms over her face to block out the bright lights.

"Me too." Brittany groaned, sitting down next to her and sipping her water slowly.

Natasha, still somehow full of energy, stretched beside them.

"I really do not understand what the big deal with turns is," Dinah mused, "I mean, are they really that important?"

Brittany shrugged and waited for Natasha to launch into some kind of explanation which, of course, she did almost immediately.

Brittany switched off, letting her eyes roam over the other dancers. A few were stretching at the ballet bar, some were standing around sipping water and nibbling on granola bars. A couple of the girls who Brittany knew were the same age as her were sitting in the furthest corner of the studio, heads bent over thick looking textbooks. Studying.

Of course. It was almost time for mid-terms. At least, she thought it was. She couldn't really be sure since shed never actually done any mid-terms. She'd never taken any exams at all. Not even a spelling test.

She felt a soft sigh escape her lips as she gazed longingly at the two girls, wanting to know desperately what they were studying and why they were studying and how they managed to remember all of that information with all of its confusing sentences and big words. She wanted to know what they knew. She wanted to be stressing out over exams like they were. Because that was normal. She needed normal.

She wandered briefly if maybe she did already know some of that stuff. She knew all about animals and places and languages. She knew how to dive and how to ski and how to communicate with the tribes in the deepest south of Africa.

"Hey, D?" She said, suddenly feeling brave. "Could you test me?"

"Sure, Britt. What do you want me to test you on? Dance terms? Foot positions?"

Brittany shook her head. "No, I mean like, a real test. About numbers and words and stuff."

"You mean like a pop quiz?"

She shrugged. She wasn't entirely sure what that was but it sounded kinda like a test. "Sure."

"Okay.." Dinah said, pulling out her phone and searching google for the best online pop quizzes. "You ready?"

Brittany nodded, rubbing her palms together, a little surprised at how nervous she was.

"What is the capital of Scotland?"

The capital? Brittany frowned. "Does that mean, like, the capital letter?"

She watched as Dinah glanced at Natasha, eyebrows slightly raised.

"No, Britt. The capital city."

"What?"

The two girls exchanged concerned glances again and Brittany felt her cheeks start to burn.

"Okay, let's try another one." Dinah said quickly, not wanting to embarrass Brittany any further. "If x equals 4, what does two x squared equal?"

Brittany's mouth fell open a little. She had no idea what any of that meant. She'd never heard letters and numbers be used like that before.

"I don't.." She started, "I mean.."

She was lost for words. She couldn't even understand the question, let alone attempt to figure out an answer. She dropped her eyes to the floor as she felt them fill with the threat of tears. She was so stupid. Why couldn't she understand anything? She bit her lip and swallowed hard, not wanting to make an even bigger fool of herself by crying in front of her friends.

"I have an idea!" Natasha said through a mouthful of apple. "You could get a tutor!"

Brittany stared at her blankly.

"A what?"

"You know, someone who teaches you stuff." Dinah smiled.

"Oh. That'd be cool. Where do I get one from?"

"My sister is a senior. She could teach you." Natasha said.

Brittany shrugged and mumbled a quick thank you. She wasn't thrilled with the idea and she knew her mother would most certainly not be but she wanted to learn and she couldn't do it by herself so she guessed a tutor was better than nothing.

The next hour of the class passed quickly but Brittany's heart wasn't in it. By the time Miss Lytton told them to cool down and pack away their things, she was just about ready to sleep for a week. Her head hurt from all the spinning and thinking and her clothes clung uncomfortably to her too warm body.

She was dragging her feet on the way out of the studio, not looking forward to the fifteen minute walk home when Natasha bounded up to her, backpack bouncing up and down on her small shoulders and small sections of her hair flying out of her ballet bun. She grabbed Brittany's hand and tugged on it lightly.

"Come meet my sister." The little girl smiled, pulling Brittany over to a shiny, red car. Leaning against the hood was a girl of about the same age as Brittany, dressed in a tight pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees and a white blouse open at the neck. Her hair was thick and reached her waist. Brittany liked the way the low evening sun made it shine. Kinda looked like glitter and she kinda wanted to touch it.

The girl pushed herself off the hood just as Natasha and Brittany stopped in front of her. Brittany had to hold her breath to keep from gasping because the girl was even prettier close up. Her skin was the same color as Natasha's, reminding her of really, really milky hot chocolate with a shot of rich caramel syrup but her eyes were way darker. Almost black.

Brittany made herself smile politely, trying not to make it too obvious that she was completely and utterly distracted by the girls high cheekbones and perfectly shaped eyebrows and lips painted the same color as her car.

"San, this is Brittany." Natasha said.

"Santana Lopez. Hi." The girl smiled, extending her hand. Brittany caught her cool fingers in her own warm palm and smiled back. "Brittany Pierce."

"Britt needs a tutor."

"That's nice." Santana said, patting her younger sister on the head. "But we need to go because I'm hungry and we need dinner."

"But you'll be her tutor, right?" Natasha asked, grabbing Santana's hand as the older girl turned to get into the car.

"What? No. I don't have time, Nat."

"Yes you do! You have after school and the weekends and stuff!"

"Yeah and when do you think I do all of my studying, huh?"

Natasha shrugged and pouted, folding her arms across her chest.

"It's okay," Brittany said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "You don't need to."

"Yes she does." Natasha mumble under her breath.

"She really doesn't, Nat. It's totally fine." Brittany squeezed the younger girls shoulder gently.

Santana offered a small sympathetic smile to the blonde before turning to her little sister. "C'mon kid, home time."

She opened the passenger door for Natasha who threw her bag onto the backseat before climbing in and slamming the door dramatically. Santana rolled her eyes and a small, amused giggle escaped her mouth. Brittany couldn't help but smile.

She turned to walk away, not wanting to bug the girl any more than she already had done but Santana spoke again before she could.

"Need a ride home?"

"Me?" Brittany asked, gesturing to herself.

"No, the imaginary girl stood next to you."

"Oh." Brittany said, disappointed, and turned to walk away again.

"What the f- yes, you, Brittany."

"But you said-"

"I was kidding." Santana said, trying not to smile. "Get in the car."

"Kay." Brittany giggled, scooting into the back seat. She took a deep breath. Santana's car smelled like mints and leather. It was nice.

Natasha and Brittany kept up the conversation for the first ten minutes of the journey, discussing just how many species of fish they thought there might be in the whole ocean. Santana made a quick witted remark here and there but otherwise kept quiet, choosing instead to glance at the blonde in her back seat via the rear view mirror every couple of minutes when she was sure the girl wasn't looking in her direction. She seemed different somehow. More innocent than the girls she knew. Maybe it was the way her cheeks glowed a light pink, the intensity of the dance class still visible in her vanilla complexion. Or maybe it was the way blonde hairs fell loosely around her face, having escaped from her ponytail. Or perhaps it was the way she was managing to interact with her little sister who usually was so absorbed in her dance practises that sometimes she found it difficult to even get a few sentences out of her. Brittany and Natasha bounced off of each other and spoke quickly as if there wouldn't possibly be enough time to discuss everything they wanted to discuss even if they could have sat in this car together for the next three hundred years.

"Wanna come to our place for dinner?" Santana heard Natasha ask Brittany.

"Um.." Brittany started to say, unsure of whether it was okay to accept that kind of offer from a ten year old.

"San, is that okay?" Natasha asked.

"Of course." The brunette said, even surprising herself with just how certain she sounded in her response. "That'd be cool." She smiled into the rear view mirror, managing to catch Brittany's eye.

"Thank you." The blonde girl said, smiling back with genuine gratitude in her eyes. She'd never been to a friend's house for dinner before. In fact, she'd never been to a friend's house, period.

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted very, very soon.