Hey guys! New chapter! Sorry for the uber long wait-It's been a pretty busy year. I can't guarantee another update at a certain time, but I'm gonna try ASAP! Before reading this chapter, I suggest looking up two songs-Strip Me, by Natasha Beddingfield, and Paris, by Kate Nash. The other songs mentioned are pretty well known. Anywho, hope you like!
October 29, 2011
10:54 PM
Aunt Judy suggested I start writing things down, keep a journal like I did during the trial. Mom must have told her it helped me. In a way, I guess it kind of did. It helped me keep my thoughts straight during such a crazy time. So maybe a journal is just what I need to get me through the next semester and a half of high school.
I suppose I'll start with tonight. We got home a little before six, and Aunt Judy showed me to my room. She'd redone the guest room upstairs-right next to Quinn's. Last time I was there, I was forced to stay in the same room, with its dark walls and oak furniture, the way Frannie, Quinn's older sister, had left it. But since the summer, they'd painted the walls a bright blue, and gotten what looked to be white furniture straight out of the PB teen catalog. The paint was the same as mine back home, but the room looked a lot cooler (and bigger) than mine. It was a teen dream room, and I almost squealed when I saw it.
"You like it?" Aunt Judy asked. I nodded enthusiastically. "We re-did it a few weeks ago, when your mom called and asked. She told us what your room looked like back home, so we moved some of Quinny's old furniture in and gave it a fresh coat of paint. And we left some of the frames unfilled-we knew you'd want to put some posters and pictures up, like you have at home." She smiled, and then left me to unpack. I filled the open frames with posters of my favorite bands (because one can never get too sick of A Fine Frenzy), movies, and people. I was putting clothes away in my closet when the door slammed open. Before I could even say anything, a blob of yellow and blonde ran at me, pulling me into a ridiculously tight hug.
"PIPER!" I laughed, pulling away and looking at Quinn's face. "God, I've missed you."
"I missed you too, darling!" We both let out giggles, and she pulled me in for another hug.
"You look so different!"
"Agency's fault," I said, shaking my head and gesturing at my hair. "They figured the blonde would be too obvious. And I've got these snazzy contacts to cover my eyes." I rolled them as I spoke, but them smiled and grabbed Quinn's hand. "Thank you so much for the room, by the way."
"You like?" She motioned for me to sit down on the bed. "Mercedes, Puck and I did it a few days ago." I tilted my head to the side. I hadn't heard those names before, as far as I remembered. Last time I'd had a serious talk with Quinn was right before the trial, and she had just had just hit a rough patch at school. Since then the only semi-serious conversation we'd had was via Facebook, about her singing club (or something?) practicing for the next round of competition, and putting on a show a production of West Side Story, a show my school-well, my old school-put on my Freshman year.
"Who're Mercedes and Puck?"
"You remember!" She looked at me. "I stayed with Mercedes for a while right before…" She paused, and then picked up after finding her wording. "Before Beth was born." I tilted my head again, racking my brain for any mention of Mercedes. Then, I remembered.
"Oh! Right! Because what's-his-face's Mom wouldn't let you eat bacon." Quinn rolled her eyes, and I laughed. "What psycho doesn't let someone eat bacon? Mom and Aunt Judy are Jewish, but it doesn't keep me from enjoying a Wendy's Double Bacon Cheeseburger." Quinn smiled back, and put her hand on my arm.
"And this is why we get along so well."
"And Puck?" I asked. And then, as I said the name, it came back. "Oh, wait. Puck, as in..."
"Baby daddy Puck." Quinn let out a laugh, and nodded. "He and I are-well, we're kind of friends. I don't really know how to categorize it." The last time I'd been up to visit, in the spring, she'd been secretly dating her ex, Finn; he was the awkwardly sexual football quarterback with a smile that could charm any girl. "I'm trying to get my act back together, Piper. Beth, she's back in town, and-
"Beth is here?" I stuttered. "In Lima?"
"Shelby's back teaching-at McKinley no less. And Puck and I have been babysitting her. She so...grown up, Piper. You have to come see her!" There was a twinkle to Quinn's eye that suggested she was ecstatic about Shelby, her baby's adoptive mother, moving back. But I knew Quinn, a lot better than most people, and that twinkle was about way more than just being happy. Something was going on-something she wasn't telling me about.
Agent Donovan showed up a few hours later. Q was helping me put the last of my stuff away, organizing everything in the bathroom when the doorbell rang. Aunt Judy answered it, and Agent Donovan (who still requests that I call her Nina, but it feels too weird), all 5'10 of her, came walking into the door. She and I both share the same affliction passed on by our dads; being perilously taller than 70% of the female population, including most guys growing up. She and I looked similar, now that I'd dyed my hair; same dark locks, athletic frames. The only things that set us apart are our eyes. While Agent Donovan's are a dark, chocolaty brown, mine stay at a constant green; a minty shade that glints in the light with my laughter (or so I'm told). Quinn's been jealous of them for years, just like I have been with her ability to eat anything and not gain an ounce. But with the cover up, I've been wearing brown contacts-to hide any trace of my former self. So when I ran down the stairs, careful not to trip (because knowing me, that's what would happen), and she laughed and pulled me into a hug, much like Aunt Judy and Quinn had earlier, we looked too much a like to not be hilarious. "How are you, darlin'?" I smiled at her distinctly southern accent; I had a small one of my own, but my voice was more European (from my dad's side) than anything.
"I'm fine," I replied, and for the first time in a while I actually meant it. I was out of Dallas, feeling relatively safe, and I had my cousin (and one of my best friends in the world) back. "I missed-
I stopped when I saw the man standing in the doorway behind her. Tall, brooding and handsome, he gave me a cheeky smile as he waved at Aunt Judy. His eyes were a bit frightening, an icy shade of blue that contrasted with his dark skin and hair.
"Piper, this is Agent Marin. He works with the Columbus sector of the FBI." He stepped into the house, and extended his hand to each of us in turn; his handshake was warm, but also a little too…firm for my tastes. "He'll be keeping an eye on things up here while I tie up some loose ends back in Dallas." I felt my eyes widen, and I gave a blank stare to the woman in front of me.
"You…you're not staying?" She gave me a sympathetic look, and put her hand on my shoulder, about to speak, when Aunt Judy interrupted.
"Why don't we all go sit in the living room? I can get everyone some coffee and we can chat then."
It took Agent Donovan twenty minutes to spit out that she wasn't staying in Lima past next week. I felt my heart hit the floor when she said it; I didn't know how things would be without her there. I'm a little worried things are going to go back to the way they were-me looking over my shoulder all the time, freaked out that Matty or one of his bonehead friends is watching from around the corner.
But she assured me that Agent Marin (who also requested that I call him by his first name, Michael, but there's no way in hell that's happening) would be in town every week to check in, and would be staying at a hotel just down the street for the weeks after she left just in case. Somehow, I don't feel any better.
I'm going to McKinley under the ID Piper Marie Fabray from Houston, Texas. Fabray, instead of Waldorf. I'm sure my father gave the agency an earful about taking away his name and giving me the name of his asshole brother in law who cheated on Aunt Judy. But being a Fabray, the daughter of Quinn's dad's brother (I know, an earful), further tied us together; made our changed relation more believable than it already was.
Before leaving, Agent Donovan gave me this packet filled with random bits-a shiny, gold debit card with my new name on it, loaded with all the money I'd need for a while; the log ins to my new Facebook page, set up with a new email (she encouraged me to take a crapload of pictures with Quinn and over the next week or so, just to give it the air that I'd been in the area, or at least had the account, for a while); a schedule of all my classes at McKinley; a school ID with the picture I'd taken for my court ID, my fake name in big, bold letters underneath it. It felt kind of wrong as I held it in my hands. I've always been Piper Waldorf; the girl who's name made her sound more important than she was, just because there were hotels with the same name; the one who could pass for a bigger, taller, blonder version of a Gossip Girl with the same name; the person who, before transferring schools (and getting a good personal stylist), was always called Piper Waldork. My name made me who I was; well, not made me, but helped shape the person I am today. Without it, I feel insecure and slightly at a loss.
Not that I'm dissing the Fabrays or anything.
Right now I'm having some issues falling asleep…I've been trying for a while. The only reason I'm really writing any of this down is because I have nothing better to…
October 30, 2011
12:36 PM
I was extremely rudely awakened this morning. I was totally fine sleeping; the nightmares had faded in the weeks leading up to the move, and apparently the anti-anxiety pills I've been taking help with my restlessness when I sleep. But when Quinn knocked and came into the room, practically singing and already dressed in her cheerios uniform, I groaned and turned back over in bed.
"Uh-uh," she said, and then sat on the edge of the bed. "We're going shopping today, remember?"
"You guys don't even have a mall," I groaned into my pillow. I am definitely not a morning person. She tapped the bed, and when I wouldn't move, she sat back on my legs, sprawling out.
"They added an outlet center on the edge of town in the fall. It just opened before Christmas." I sat up a little bit, attempting to kick her off my legs.
"Outlet center?"
"They have an H&M," she said in a sing song voice.
It's the only reason I went; really, I had no interest in running into the preppy kids from Quinn's-I mean, our-school on the day before we were set to go back. I would have rather stayed home and mentally prepared myself for my first day. I had to get my story straight, pick out an outfit, and somehow manage to calm my nerves. But when Quinn mentioned H&M, I jumped at the chance to get couture goods at hobo prices. The nearest H&M to Dallas is a rinky little seasonal store in Plano, and they're always out of my size (damn these wide hips God graced me with).
"Do you mind if Mercedes comes with us?" Quinn asked as we stood in our bathroom. She was pulling her hair into a high ponytail and checking her phone, and I was wrapping my extensions-I mean, hair- around a curling iron to give it some wave. I glanced at her in the mirror, and she gave me a questioning smile. "She's nice, I promise."
"I don't know, Q." I set the iron down, leaning against the counter. "I was kinda hoping for some time to talk with you. I have a lot to spill." She twisted her mouth from side to side, something we both picked up from our mothers.
"We can go to dinner tonight? Just the two of us? Mercedes just texted and asked-Kurt, one of our friends, ditched her again to…" She trailed off, seeming to not want to finish her sentence. "Well, he ditched her."
"Sounds like a crummy boyfriend," I muttered under my breath. Quinn laughed.
"He is so not her boyfriend. Kurt is gay-he's part of my Glee Club." I nodded, starting to understand.
"And let me guess. He met this amazing guy and keeps ditching Mercedes to hang with him." Quinn nodded back, smiling. "You're driving, Q. You can invite whoever you want." She gave me another apologetic smile, and then grabbed her phone to text Mercedes back. I know all too well what it feels like to be ditched by a friend for their signifigant other. Until high school, I was the person constantly being ditched. All my friends had boyfriends and girlfriends and were always bailing at the last minute for double dates or something like that. It sucked…until I understood how it felt to have a third wheel with you. When I started dating Matty in the spring of Freshman year, I finally got why my friends hated having me around when they were with their boyfriends and girlfriends. While being alone sucked, being with your partner and having to deal with someone else being there is a pain too. But nevertheless, I felt for Mercedes. And, as I convinced myself while we finished getting ready, it would be good to meet some of Quinn's friends, build up a base of people that I'll know when I start school on Tuesday.
5:41 PM
I'm trying out for Glee Club.
Yeah, you heard me right. Former head cheerleader, take no bullshit, I hate being told what to sing Piper Waldorf is trying out for an organized singing group.
It all started when we were shopping. Mercedes showed up a little before one, her mother dropping her off at the front door. I stood at the top of the stairs as Quinn ran down and opened the door, pulling the girl inside. She was dark skinned and on the larger side, but dressed well in dark jeans and a bright, long sleeved tunic with unlaced dance shoes. She gave me my first taste of how people really dressed up here in Ohio. The fact that, until about a week or two ago, Quinn was going through a goth-punk phase didn't help me at all when it came to packing my clothes to ship here. But when Mercedes walked in, it gave me a small flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everyone in Ohio didn't dress like total trend-less zombies in plaid. After giving Quinn a quick hug, she looked up at the balcony where I stood.
"You must be Piper!" she started, and the two of them walked up the stairs. "I'm Mercedes." When she reached the top, she pulled me into a quick hug, and she smiled, warm and friendly.
"Good to meet you," I said with a grin back.
"I love your sweater." She looked me over; I'd thrown something simple but warm on this morning-a light blue cashmere sweater over dark skinny jeans and light UGGs. Topped off with a pearl necklace, it was a mix of classy and modern that fit my taste perfectly, and also kept me warm in this ridiculous weather. "NYC?" I nodded. "They have one at The Grove."
"Where we're going," Quinn added.
"I saw it there in just about every color before break. It looks super cute on you." I smiled and muttered words of thanks. "Well, let's get this show on the road, huh?" Quinn laughed, shaking her head, and grabbing my bag, the three of us headed out.
I'm still extremely jealous of Quinn's car. Sure, my vintage, baby blue, drop top convertible that's sitting in a garage in Dallas somewhere has its charm. But when you see a car like Quinn's, a bright, shiny, silvery, curvy Chrysler that runs like it's still brand new (maybe because my car has about thirty years on this baby), you get jealous. So as we drove the some ten miles to the shopping center, I lavished in the heated seats, the unscuffed dash, and the armrests that didn't have vinyl peeling off by the inch.
Quinn wasn't kidding when she bragged about how good the outlet mall was as we got ready; The Grove, oh so cleverly copied from the more well known shopping district in LA (which I've been to quite a few times thanks to Dad's numerous business trips that happened to come with an extra plane ticket) was a large center the size of a high school; they had everything from the Gap and H&M to Juicy Couture and Coach. I purposely avoided the last two for fear of spending all my money (even though Mom and Dad are funding everything, I still preferred to spend wisely, and most of my designer stuff was bought on EBay, where I could get it for half the price and get two or three of something for the price of one), but as we cruised around the two story H&M, I was finding lots of little, cute things to spend money on, all of which were ridiculously cheep.
"What exactly do people wear here?" I practically had to yell over the voices of the girls in the changing rooms next to me, and I barely heard Mercedes and Quinn's replies.
"Pretty much anything," Quinn said, and I tossed out a tee shirt over the door with a simple "no."
"Everyone kind of has their own style, like in every high school. Each group tends to dress similarly. But in Glee…" Mercedes trailed off. "Everyone's different." I pulled a black tunic down over my head and looked at myself in the mirror. It could be cute, with some chunky, colorful jewelry and maybe my grey jeans. "The guys tend to stick to plaids and ginghams, unless you're our man Kurt, who dresses better than most of the kids at our school." I smiled at the second mention of Kurt that day.
"You know me, Piper. Pastels and white forever." Quinn let out a laugh.
"I'm glam girl, I guess. Metalics and bright colors are where I live." I fought a giggle as I pulled the tunic back over my head and threw it over the door, muttering a "yes." "Our girl Tina used to be Goth, but now it's more...Victorian. Vintage, I guess."
"Sounds like we would get along," I said, glancing at the string of white pearls around my neck.
"Santana and Brittany and the rest of the cheerios are always in uniform, but outside of school they're pretty on with the trends." There was a pause. "And then there's Rachel," Quinn said, and I could hear her smiling as I slid the last thing in my room over my head. "God help her."
"She's not that bad." There was a moment's silence. "Okay, maybe she is. But she's got some cute pieces!"
"For a toddler." I laughed and looked at myself in the mirror.
"Who exactly are we talking about here?"
"Glee Club president," said Mercedes.
"Resident man stealer," Quinn threw in. "She somehow dresses like cousin Madi and Grandma Louise at the same time." The mental picture of someone who wore as many argyle sweaters and knee highs as those two combined almost made me shiver as I threw open the door. Their faces confirmed what I'd been thinking; the dress I had on looked fabulous.
"You look like a brunette Taylor Swift!" Quinn said, taking my hand and twirling me. "I say this is totally first day material." I grinned, holding the bottom of the dress out.
"It's not too much?" I ran my fingers along the lacy material covering the waistline and looked up at them.
"It's perfect."
I figured I had the stuff at home to complete the outfit, so from H&M we carried our purchases to the next store. The three of us shopped, chatting casually about everything and anything; they filled me in on the school, and I dropped tidbits about life in Dallas (or Houston, as my cover story said). Sure, I didn't give details, but I still let Quinn tell the giggly tale of the first time she'd met a celebrity, when we both worked merch for Days Difference and Miley (yeah, Cyrus, and yeah, she's really a bitch in person) and Mandy just happened to drop in to say hello to the headlining band, Stereo Skyline (and then Mandy stuck her tongue down the lead singers mouth).
"And Quinn actually wanted to wear her Cheerios uniform?" Mercedes giggled as we settled into seats at a café on a street corner, one the two girls seemed to know very well.
"It was my safety net, okay? I felt powerful in it, like I'm in charge." Quinn rolled her eyes and took a sip of her non fat latte. I almost made a face when she ordered it; coffee stunts your growth like crazy and stains your teeth, and my parents spent way too much money on whitening treatments in middle school when I got my braces off for me to ruin it now.
"Well you sure as hell took control over those brooding scene boys with my dress on." I laughed and put a piece of my croissant in my mouth slowly. My eyes fluttered closed at the taste; one of my favorite parts about not being in cheerleading anymore is that I can actually eat shit like this and get away with it. When I was on the team at Thomas, I ate one well rounded meal a day with vegetable snacking periodically. Our coach was insane, but she'd won three national titles in the 90's, so we listened. We've made it as far as nationals, but always wound up getting beat by, you guessed it, WMHS's Cheerios.
"Uhm, Piper." Quinn was talking though a smile, a sign that something was up. "Don't look now, but there are two guys from our school checking you out." Without hesitation, I casually faked a laugh, flipped my hair over my shoulder and glanced in the vague direction she was looking at. Sure enough, two bulky guys in red and white letterman's jackets were staring straight at our table, stupid little grins on their faces. They didn't catch me looking, so I turned back to the others and laughed again. "What losers," Quinn said with an eyeroll. I raised my eyebrows, and then motioned to Mercedes.
"Can I borrow a bit of your whipped cream?" I asked hesitantly. I hadn't done this in forever; an old ploy the girls on my team and I used to do when we were stuck somewhere, bored, and there were guys trying to look down our shirts. She gave me a look, but pushed her foam topped drink towards me. I reached my finger in, scooping up a dollop of whipped cream and purposefully glancing over at the table where the guys sat. Neither of them were very cute, I noticed. Mostly roguish. Had they not been wearing letterman's jackets, I wouldn't even have done this. But they noticed I was looking at them, and both watched me intently as I raised my eyebrows, widening my eyes for my signature "Bambi" look, and then licked the whipped cream off my finger. Both of their eyes widened, and they looked at each other. When the looked back, I moved my hand into a little wave before giving them the finger. Both the girls cracked up; the guys even laughed, shoving each other and grinning at me. I even cracked a smile before going back to my pastry.
"I still can't believe you did that," Mercedes giggled, throwing her empty drink cup in the trash.
"It's not like it's a huge deal," I said with a laugh. "Those guys seemed like horn dogs and-
"They were." I ignored Quinn.
"And I needed a laugh." I shrugged and adjusted my bag on my shoulders. "It's how I roll." Mercedes and Quinn both laughed, and a man over the counter in a dark apron gestured at Mercedes.
"How was it, honey?" They seemed like they knew each other.
"It was great, Rich! As always!"
"I'm glad to hear it." He smiled at all of us, and his eyes landed on me. "Who's your friend? I haven't seen her here before!"
"This is Piper." Mercedes put a hand on my shoulder. "She's Quinn's cousin, and just moved here from Houston." I smiled and waved at the dark man behind the counter. I'm usually not this awkward around people, I swear. Just something about being in a new state…it's fucking me up.
"Well, the question is, can she sing?" I raised my eyebrows, and both Mercedes and Quinn grinned.
"Hell yes she can," Quinn offered, grabbing my hand and yanking me towards a small area on a riser void of tables or chairs; it was a stage, I realized all too late.
"What the hell are you-
"What've you got for us today, Rich?" Mercedes asked, throwing her bag in the corner of the stage. I followed and looked at both of them for any inkling of what was happening. Rich moved to what looked like a soundbox closer to the bar and pressed a few buttons.
"Just a little…Katy Perry." And before I knew what was happening, the first chords of Hot N Cold played through the speakers next to the stage, and Quinn started to sing.
"You change your mind like a girl changes clothes. Yeah you PMS like a bitch, I would know." I didn't really know how to react. Spontaneous singing is something I've never encountered before. But apparently the people in the café were used to it, because they started cheering as Mercedes grabbed the next part of the verse. When the chorus came along, she grabbed my hands, uncrossing my arms and spinning me around in a circle. "Sing!" Quinn urged, and I looked at her with wide eyes.
"Are you crazy?"
"Yes, now do it!" I raised my eyebrows at her but slowly started to sing along to the chorus. "You! You don't really want to stay, no, You! But you don't really want to go-oh." Both of them grinned at me as they sang the second verse, and then Quinn leaned into me as the intro to the bridge started. "You've got the bridge!" My eyes went wide again and I shook my head. I swear, I don't have stage fright or anything. I just like to be a little more…rehearsed. "You can do it, P. I know you can." I gave her a look and shook my head, but when the bridge started, I busted out in the loudest voice I could manage to hit the high notes.
"Someone call the doctor, got a case of a love bi-polar. Stuck on a roller coaster, can't get it off this ride…" By the end of the song, the three of us were cracking up laughing, but grinning at the same time. We were all slightly sweaty from dancing on stage, but it was so worth it.
"Girl," Mercedes started as we caught our breaths, Rich handing us glasses of water over the bar. "You really can sing." I laughed and shrugged, chugging half the glass in one gulp.
"I've been performing since I was little. That's why I got into the music scene in the first place. After I stopped wanting to be in the spotlight, I started helping the people did." Mercedes nodded.
"Well, maybe you should try out for the Troubletones!" Quinn's eyes widened and she shook her head at Mercedes.
"She should try out for Glee, where I can keep an eye out on her."
"But, in Troubletones, we actually get to-
"It's a mute point, Mercedes. I need to be able to take care of Piper this year, for a lot of reasons, and if she joins TT, I can't do that."
"But-
"Guys!" I said, stepping in between them and putting my hands out. "I'm not even sure I want to join. Organized groups aren't really my thing, save my years in cheerleading, and I don't really like being told how to sing the songs I love."
"We never get told how to sing songs, unless it's competition!" Quinn assured me. "Mr. Schue gives us a theme every week or so and we go with it; we do whatever song we want, save for the group numbers, but we have a say in those too." I gotta say, that surprised me. I always assumed in Glee Club, every song you sang was assigned by a teacher. I looked down at the inch or so of water left in my cup and swished it around.
"I'm not making any promises," I said finally. Quinn, of course, took this as a yes and almost squealed, pulling me into a hug.
I tried on my entire outfit for tomorrow when I got home, and I have to say…with my new hair and eye color, it's very Ke$ha meets Teen Vogue. I'm liking it. And I really hope it impresses everyone in Glee. I know, I know. I'm not usually one to conform or worry about what people think about me. But that's when I had the security of my team, my friends of years upon years. I'm starting with friends I could count on one hand, and the lame back-story that I moved from Houston because my mom's job sent her overseas and my dad couldn't watch me on his own. Because that's really going to get me tons of friends.
When I first found out I was going to McKinley, I really didn't think I would want to join any clubs. At Thomas, Freshman year I'd balanced being the 9th grade cheerleading Capitan with Tech Theatre (costumes and makeup, not getting sweaty moving shit on stage), on top of being part of an out of school tech program at a Dallas theater that specialized in Broadway musicals (so, yeah, I know my showtunes). Sophomore year, I'd given up all my other extra carriculars to be JV Capitan, and last semester I was too busy with the trial and Varsity that I barely had time to breathe. I've never really been in any clubs.
But I think Quinn was right in assuming I'd try out. If she and Mercedes are any indication for the rest of the team, I think I might get along with the rest of them as well. It'll be good to already have a group going into my first week of high school.
I just hope I make it.
October 31, 2011
11:10 AM
I got a text from Cassie this morning. All it said was "good luck on your first day!" I guess mom told her I had school today. She hasn't texted since I first gave her my new number two weeks ago, and the fact that she's texting now doesn't really make me feel any better about the day.
I am so nervous.
I have no idea why; Quinn assured me this morning as we got ready together in her bathroom that no one who's ever tried out for Glee has been turned down, with the exception of one of the founders of their rival club, Troubletones. I think I'm just freaked that I might screw up and embarrass myself or something. Because knowing me, that would happen. But things have gone well today so far.
When we drove to school, I was forcing myself not to bite my nails. Quinn finally put music on as we rounded the last few blocks to the school, and as we parked, I smoothed out every wrinkle in my dress I could. I'd thrown the white, gauzy dress over a cream long sleeved shirt, white tights and pulled on a pair of light leather boots. With a ton of band bracelets and a shitload of mascara, Quinn said it was "perfectly Piper." I took that as a good thing. We met up with a few Cheerios before school started; two of whom I knew as Brittany and Santana (we'd met for a few spare seconds before I left last time). Right off the bat, Santana struck me as a slutty, snarky bitch. I may be snarky at times, and I have been known to be a bit slutty (pre-trail, post Matty), but I've never been a flat out bitch. And the first thing this girl said when she saw me was "Who the hell are you?" Point taken, bitch. Brittany, on the other hand, seems adorable. The first thing she said to me was "You look like Ke$ha's twin sister." I get the feeling we're going to get along quite well.
As first period rolled around, Quinn and I walked to class together. We had all but three classes together. I sat behind her as we entered our first class, and studied my schedule before me.
1. Health and Wellness; Peterson
2. Pre-Cal; Landers
3. AP English III; Fallis
4. Free Period/Lunch; N/A
5. Principals of Technology; Timble
6. Social Studies; Carson
7. Student Aid; Pillsbury
I looked up to see a huge group of students crowded around our table. Most of them were in cheerios uniforms, but some were dressed normally. All were listening to whatever Quinn was saying.
"Right, Piper?" I hadn't realized she'd been talking about me until just then.
"Sorry, what?"
"Whoa." A large, burly black guy looked shocked to hear me speak. "Are you like, Canadian?"
"No, Azimio, she's not Canadian." Quinn rolled her eyes and gave me an annoyed smile. "Piper here is from Houston." She looked at the girls in the uniforms. "She was cheer Capitan at her old school, just like I was last year. And I may not be on the team anymore, but I expect all of you to look out for her like you would each other." I was a bit surprised-she wasn't even on the team anymore, and she still had them wrapped around her little fingers.
"So why does she talk like a Canadian if she's not?" Brittany asked, a curious smile on her face. I stood up, folding my schedule and sliding it into the pocket of my dress.
"If you guys must know," I started, coming up and wrapping an arm around Quinn, "my mother is from Cardiff, Wales, near England. I spent a lot of time there as a kid." Since my relation to Quinn was supposed to be my dad, not my mom, it made no sense if my dad was from Wales and Quinn's wasn't; she would have an accent too. Brittany's eyes widened.
"So you, like, know Harry Potter?" This was yet another sign that I was going to like this girl. First period ended sooner than I thought, and a hoard of cheerleaders followed Quinn and I as we headed to our second class; Pre-Cal. Mercedes, blessedly, was in that class. Quinn chatted with her cheer friends, and Brittany had a different class, so I sat with Mercedes and she gave me the dish on the students on in our period. Only one other kid from Glee was in this class; Finn. I hadn't even noticed him at first; he was seated amongst a cluster of guys in matching lettermen's jackets. But when his head popped up, I recognized him almost immediately. He'd thinned out in the year or so it's been since I last saw him, but he caught my eye and his widened. I was glad the teacher wasn't really paying attention as he stood up, loudly saying my name. He looked even more surprised to see me than some of my friends had been to hear I was leaving; like it was the last thing he'd expected.
"Piper!" Without fail, Quinn turned around, semi-alarmed by the volume of the announcement. He walked the few steps to where I sat on Mercedes' desk (those damn plastic chairs reek havoc on your back if you sit in them too long) and engulfed me into a huge hug. "Quinn told us that one of her cousins was coming to McKinley, but she didn't say it was you!" I gave him an awkward hug back, wrapping my arm halfway around his side and giving a painful glance in the vague direction of my cousin, my face squished to the bottom of Finn's ribcage.
"Yep, it's me." I laughed and looked up at him. If it's possible, in the time since I've seen him, he's grown. He was already a few inches taller than me, but it seems he's abandoned all hope in ever being a normal height. From my perch on the desk, he looks to be about 6'3, a good half a foot taller than me. "Jesus, you've grown."
"Tell me about it." He laughs, and pulls a rolling chair out from under one of the extra desks near the teacher, sitting in front of me. I throw a glance at Mercedes, and her expression is somewhere between extremely confused and highly amused. "I'm not the only one who's changed, though." He gives a slight nod to my hair, and I roll my eyes. "It looks good this way. More…you. How've you been? It feels like forever since I last talked to you on Facebook or anything. Which reminds me…did you delete your account? I used to get a crapload of updates from you, and I noticed in the last couple of weeks there haven't been hardly any." My eyes widen, much like his had when he'd seen me, and I send a panicked glance to Quinn. Without a word, she stands up and starts to head over, and I come up with a bullshit answer.
"Uh, yeah," I started. "New school, figured it'd be a good idea to get rid of everything, start new and all."
"Sounds like a-
Finn was interrupted when Quinn came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Finn, quit harassing my poor cousin. She's had enough questions from your teammates." He raised an eyebrow up at her and then looked back at me. I shrugged. He knows as well as I do that it's no use to argue with either one of us; we both got our mother's tempers and strong wills. With a few parting words and the promise that we'd talk come free period, I excused myself from Mercedes and went to talk to Quinn on the far side of the room. "Maybe we should talk to him."
"I'll just tell him I got a legal name change," I said, already on the same track she is. "He doesn't need to know the full story. You've said it yourself; he's like a puppy dog. He'll believe anything." It felt wicked just coming out of my mouth, but I know it to be true. He did believe he got Quinn pregnant by inseminating a hot tub. "A legal name change and a few minor details will be enough to keep him in a confused but believable state for at least the semester." I glanced in his direction, and he caught my eye, giving me a small smile. And I smiled back, as warmly as possible. But I noticed something, as I did. I don't really have to fake the smile I give him. Because for the first time in a while, it's genuine. His puppy dog grin, that monstrous stature; it's all enough to make me want to smile. So ridiculous and cute, I'm surprised I even forgot how easily he made me smile all those years ago, when any thought of him was squelched by the fact that he was dating my cousin, my one true best friend.
When the bell rings for third period, I feel an immediate sense of panic. No one I know, not Quinn, Mercedes, Brittany, Finn, not even Santana, has third period AP English with me. Quinn walks me to the room labeled Fallis, one she's never been in (she's in on-level English III, a class I'm sure would bore me to death), and leaves me at the door with an apologetic smile and a wave over her shoulder. I curse under my breath as I walk in, and approach an older woman I assume to be the teacher. It takes her a moment to realize I'm standing there, and when she turns around, I see a warm face give me a smile. "You must be Piper," she says, extending her hand. "I'm Mrs. Fallis, your new English teacher." I shake her outstretched hand, and there's something about her that strikes me as familiar. I gave her a once over and glanced at the diplomas and posters behind her desk. Malia Fallis. Malia Fallis. Why does that name sound so familiar? And then it hits me. Malia Fallis.
"You wouldn't happen to be Malia Fallis, the author of The Season, would you?" Her eyes widened, obviously surprised, and she nodded.
"Why, yes, I am. Have you read it?" I nod vehemently.
"I did a project on it sophomore year; had to make a movie poster and everything. It's what encouraged me to start writing my own short stories." She looked impressed, if not a bit skeptical that the new girl wasn't just sucking up. But it was all true. I read The Season, a diary style book about the Oscar season in the point of view of one of the nominee's daughters, Freshman year and have been obsessed with it ever since. It's what encouraged me to write my own short stories, not that many people have ever read them.
"Well, I'm glad to hear someone here has read it." She gave me another smile and picked up a sheet of paper, looking over it before glancing behind me. "I have you seated in the back left seat." She pointed to a table behind me, and I turned and saw a boy sitting in the seat next to the empty one, book in hand, earphones in. Next to him, a large group of red and white clad teens clustered around a table. My thought when seeing this was I didn't know so many cheerleaders and football players were good at English. But I gave Mrs. Fallis a smile and a nod, before heading over to the table.
"Excuse me," I muttered, trying to get around his chair, which was blocking the way to my corner seat. He didn't hear me. "Excuse me!" I said a little louder, hitting the chair leg with my bag. But he still didn't notice. Blinking, I leaned closer to his ear. "EXCUSE ME." I yelled the last time, and he jolted up, hitting me in the nose with the back of his head.
Of course. Because this kind of shit only happens to me. The group to the side of us all glanced over, and I held my nose with one hand while the boy in front of me turned around, eyes wide. I gave my "Bambi" smile to everyone in the group, hoping to make up for my loudness and embarrassment, and then looked at the boy sitting down. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, standing up. I crinkled my eyes hearing his voice. "I didn't hear you and-
"It's fine. I think I'm supposed to be sitting there. Mrs. Fallis told me back left seat." He blinked at me for a few seconds, before breaking into a wide smile, standing up, and pulling out the chair that was supposed to be mine, gesturing to it. Yeah, that's right. He pulled out my chair.
"Your accent," he said, and I laughed. "It doesn't really sound...American."
"You're one to talk," I giggled. "I'm surprised anyone here can understand you, Americans have a hard enough time with English, much less Irish. Where are you from?" He was actually pretty precious-with poufy brown hair in a sort of Elvis do, and a blue button up and slacks. And he even had a Claddagh ring, I noted with a small inward sigh. With my guess, he was a good Catholic Church boy from the North. It would be all too easy to destroy that, I thought with a laugh.
"About twenty miles out of Belfast. Carrickfergus."
"Near the coast! My dad used to rave about this little place right on the beach-best fish and chips on the whole island."
"Pescado?" He asked, and I sat down, putting my bag on the floor beside me.
"That's the place!" I smiled, glad to find someone else who knew of things other than the small world they live in. "I've been to Dublin, but never up North. Always wanted to, though."
"And you're from where, then? Sound a bit western. Cardiff, maybe?" My eyes widened, and I held my hand up for a high five, which he returned.
"Spot on! My..." I hesitated, realizing that I'd told him my dad had been to Carrickfergus. "mother was born and raised there. I actually just moved from Houston though." He nodded, looking impressed.
"Well, welcome to McKinley. Rory Flanagan." He held out his hand for a shake, and I took it.
"Piper Fabray." His eyebrows raised back at hearing my "last name."
"Fabray? Any relation to Quinn?" I nodded.
"My cousin and current housemate." He pointed to himself.
"Foreign exchange. I'm staying with Brittany Pierce," he started, and I tilt my head.
"Okay, okay, settle down everyone!" Mrs. Fallis said over the still loud hoards of people in the room. Rory leaned down and picked up something off the floor; his backpack. He pulled out a few sheets of paper, and I did the same with my bag.
"I've only been here a few weeks myself. But it's an okay school. You just have to get in with the right groups."
"So you actually like it here?" He nodded.
"I found my friends. Pretty good ones, I think. And hopefully I'll find a few more, Piper Fabray." He threw a small smile my way, and I laughed. Two kids, with their hearts across the pond-maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all.
2:35 PM
Mrs. Fallis' class is actually pretty fun. I get the feeling she's one of those teachers most kids come back to visit; someone who relates to her students, and knows how to get and hold their attention for longer than ten seconds at a time. "Don't forget!" she said over the roar of the bell. "You need to have your books for free read tomorrow- projects are due in two weeks!" Some students waved her off, but I gave her a smile before saying "have a good day!" over my shoulder. It wasn't till then that I realized Rory was following me.
"You're sure friendly with Mrs. Fallis." I shrugged, heading in the vague direction I remembered my locker to be in.
"She's actually one of my favorite authors." His eyes bugged a bit, and laughed. "She wrote The Season, about the Oscars?" He gave an understanding nod.
"Me host mother has it on her bookshelf. Not really my type of book, though." I reached my locker, twisting the combination as fast as my forgetful memory would allow and dumping my books. "So, what're you doing for free period?" He leaned against my locker, a grin on his face, and I couldn't help but smile. He was cute. But innocent puppy dogs get destroyed by girls like me.
"I'm going with Quinn to Glee practice." His eyes widened again, and then he smiled.
"What a coincidence, Piper Fabray. I'm in Glee also." I tilted my head. "What, you don't believe me?" He laughed, and offered me his arm, which, hesitantly, I took. "We're meeting in the auditorium today, getting ready for West Side Story."
"And you're in it?" I asked as we walked down the hall. A few people gave us odd looks, and I gave a side glance to Rory, who just nodded and acted as if he didn't notice the looks. "As who?"
"Indio." I laughed, turning the corner.
"Oh, a Sharks boy. I bet you're a-
But I didn't get to finish my sentence. Because, like in some sort of slow motion take, two boys in letterman jackets rounded the corner, large cups in hand. And before we could do anything, they threw the contents of the cups-ice cold blue slushies-right at us. It hit me mostly on my chest, square in the middle of my brand new white dress. At first, I didn't know how to react. Just blinked at a spot at the end of the hallway, trying to process what'd just happened. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw another letter-jacked clad boy round the corner. My eyes focused, and I saw Finn staring at me. "Crap, Piper, what happened?"
"Scott and one of his hockey drones got us," Rory said, and I finally turned to look at him. There was blue slush dripping off the side of his face, and out of his hair, and the look of anger on his face matched Finn's. Without a word, Finn barreled around us and towards the two boys, now high fiving each other halfway down the hall. "Are you okay?" Rory asked, turning towards me and pushing a piece of ice out of my collar. I took a deep breath, glancing at Finn, who was now approaching the boys.
"I think I'm okay." Glancing down at my chest, I continued. "My dress, not so much. What the hell was that?" He shook his head, pulling me back towards the locker bank where mine was, and rolling the combination lock on one a few down from mine. Finn, meanwhile, had one of the boys, with floppy hair and an overbearing smirk, pinned up against the locker.
"You think it's funny to slush the new girl?" he half screamed.
"It's just another form of embarrassment the jocks like to inflict on those they find inferior." He pulled something out of the back of the locker and handed it to me. "Here. Just for the immediate stuff." I looked at what was in my hands. A towel.
"This happens to you a lot?" He shrugged.
"I'll slush anyone I want to!" The jock down the hall screamed. "If she just got here and she's already hanging out with your band of merry singing homos, maybe a slush or two will save her before it's too late." My eyes widened, and I used the towel to shake off as much ice as I could before setting to work on Rory.
"Oh, no, you don't have-
"Please just shut up." He did for a minute, and I held his chin while I tried to get most of the sticky mess off his neck and face, and out of his hair. He smirked and looked down at me, but I pushed his face back up. "It happens enough. They're just ignorant. It's nothing big."
"Finn! Finn!" A woman with red hair and a yellow suit came running up to Finn and the boy, pulling them apart. "Violence is never the answer!"
"Tell that to Cooper here. He just slushed Rory and the new girl!" She glanced down at us, and seeing the now large stains on our clothes and Rory's wet dog appearance, she grabbed Cooper-or, Scott, as Rory had said was his first name-and his friend by the ear and hauled them away.
"I'll be down the auditorium in ten!" she called to Finn over her shoulder. He turned around, still fuming, and stalked towards us.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said, swiping one last time at Rory's hair. He shied away, and I laughed, tossing the towel back at him. Finn put an arm around my shoulder, and I took a deep breath. "This really happens to you guys? Like, on a regular basis?"
"Sometimes. But the stuff we do to earn it?" Finn looks at Rory. "It's worth a thousand slushies in the face." The two walked me towards the auditorium, and I held my binder to my chest until we walked into the side doors, labeled "April Rhodes Civic Pavilion."
"Finn, Rory, where have you been?" A boy in a wheelchair, with an argyle sweater and glasses rolled up to the edge of the stage, looking pissed. Finn and Rory threw their bags in seats up front, and jumped on stage. That's when the kid noticed the stains on our clothes. "Who was it this time?"
"Scott and that kid Wesley, I think." Rory shrugged. "I think it hurt Piper Fabray here more than it hurt me." Recognition flashed across the boy's face.
"For the love of God," I started. "I'm fine. So I got slushied on my first day, no big deal."
"Piper, is that-" Quinn's voice cut off when she came from backstage, already dressed in a retro frock, and saw me. "Oh, God." She came to the edge of the stage and hoisted me up, putting an arm around me. "Are you-
"Ask me if I'm okay, and I'll slush you." She let out a laugh as a large group of people came form backstage, all in costume save a large looking woman I'd seen in the hall during passing period. She was wearing a ridiculous pair of white and red tube socks, and had a whistle hanging around her neck. There was no question as to what her profession was. "I do feel like I should go clean up a bit," I said, looking down at my chest again and crossing my arms.
"And who might this be?" A man with curly hair, donned in a sweater vest, came from behind the curtain. "The infamous Piper Fabray?" I blushed, and glared at Quinn.
"I see my cousin's been talking about me!" I let out an awkward laugh, and then extended my hand to the man as he walked up. "I'm Piper."
"I'm Mr. Schuester, Glee Club director and Spanish teacher." He glanced at my clothes, and then looked to Rory and Finn. "Again?"
"Ms. Pillsbury is dealing with it," clarified Finn, and Mr. Schuester smiled.
"Well, are you just here to watch rehearsal?"
"She's here to try out," Quinn said, and I threw her a glare.
"I'm here to watch," I corrected, "for now. If I decide I want to try out, I'll let you know." Mr. Schuester nodded, and then looked back at Rory.
"You better go get cleaned up for rehearsal. Take Piper with you." He gave me a pointed look. "You're welcome to use anything in the back costume room for the day." I quietly thanked him, and followed Rory behind the curtain and into a Black Box room, where makeup tables were set up in line on a wall with a large double door. We walked through them, and into the area they dubbed a dressing room-which was really the entry hall to the bathrooms. There were clothes on racks, labeled with names, sectioned off by character.
"There's another closet in the girl's dressing room with extra costumes. I'm gonna try and get this stuff out of my hair before it starts to get crunchy."
"You sure you don't want me to help you? It's kind of hard to wash your own hair in a sink. Trust me, I've tried." He raised an eyebrow at me, and then let out a sigh.
"Sure, why not. An excuse to have a pretty girl massage my head, I'll take that any day." I rolled my eyes, following him into the guys' bathroom and setting my bag on the floor, pulling out my phone and setting it on the counter. "What're you doing?"
"I can't just sit and wash your hair in silence. And with your face in the sink you won't be talking much. So music is my next option." I pulled up the music section while he started unbuttoning his shirt. When he caught me glancing up, he visibly blushed, and I laughed. "You're such a child."
"Well, I am only a sophomore." I felt my eyes widen, and he pulled a chair up to the sink, sitting down and taking his shirt off the rest of the way. Luckily, he was wearing a wife beater under it, though that was also stained blue now.
"But, you're in my English class."
"I'm advanced in English and History, so they put me in a grade ahead. I'm in junior level science too, because of the way my credits transferred over from back home."
"So you're how old?" I pressed shuffle on my iPod, and the first song to come up was Blow Away by A Fine Frenzy. I smiled-one of my favorites.
"15. I'll be 16 in January." I shook my head. This boy-he looked like a man. A junior at least. But he was fifteen. Fifteen. "I don't think I've ever really acted my age though. Do you think I act my age, Piper Fabray?" He gives me a hopeful, slightly embarrassed smile, and I roll my eyes, walking over and turning on the water to a decent temperature. We talked for a few minutes, while the water heated up. He asked me why my parents let me come stay with Quinn, and I lied. I used the cover story Agent Donovan and I had discussed Saturday night. I told Rory that I'd been the victim of vicious rumors at my old school, because of my position as head cheerleader, and it'd become so bad that moving was my only option. It was half true, after all. The rumors had gotten pretty bad. By the time I left, my only friends at Thomas were a few kids I'd known through theatre, and the JV cheer Captain. By the time the water was warm, the song was almost over. I felt under the tap, and signaled to Rory that he could go ahead and put his head in. I'd done this for my brother enough times when he'd broken his leg and arm 4-wheeling in the woodlands last year, so I started off just tying to get all of his hair wet. "Feels like one of those head scratchy spider things they sell at the mall," he gurgled out from under the water, and I laughed continuing to scrub his hair as the song changed. And when I realized what it was, I almost broke down. Right there, in front of Rory.
"Take what you want, steal my pride, build me up or cut me down to size," Natasha Beddingfield crooned, and I almost cried. Because for the first three months of school, this was all I listened to. Strip Me had been my theme song-my reason to get through. But I still tear up every time I hear it.
"Piper?" Rory craned his head to the right, and saw me wiping at my eyes. I turned away, embarrassed. I realized that this was the first time he hadn't used my "last name." I silently thanked him for that-one more reminder might have sent me over the edge.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I got slush in my eyes." Sniffling, I changed the song, and finished his hair. I pulled a towel out from one of the shelves in the closet, and handed it to him.
"Are you sure you-
"I'm okay, Rory. I promise." I glanced down at him, and he was drying his hair off, but looking at me, like he was trying to figure me out. He looked kind of like a sad, wet puppy dog. I got at eye-level with him, and spoke right into his face-right into his dark, deep blue eyes. "I appreciate your concern, sweetheart. But it's not something I want to talk about, okay?" I gave him a sickly sweet smile, picking up my phone and bag and heading towards the door. "I'm gonna try to find something to wear. I'll be out to watch in a few minutes." Walking into the girls' bathroom, I threw my stuff down and let it out. I let myself break for the first time since the end of the trial. I blasted my music while I cried, to ensure that no one-especially Rory-heard me. Come on, Piper. This isn't you. Sniffling, I looked in the mirror, swiping at my eyes. Mascara ran down my face, and I laughed at how distraught I looked, all over a stupid song. You're safe now. You have nothing to worry about. This song has nothing over you anymore. After a few moments of breathing, I felt better. But breaking down, especially at school, wasn't an option again.
I mindlessly searched through the closet, trying to find something that would fit my wide hips, finally coming across a sweet little mid-length sleeve grey dress with a full knee length skirt and sweetheart neckline. It was a lot like the dresses I had at home, and with my tights which hadn't been touched by the wretched blue liquid, and a pair of simple red heels I'd dug out of the back of the closet, it would suffice for the day. I was kind of afraid that Rory would walk in mid change, so I hurriedly stripped off my dress and undershirt, pulling the grey dress over my head. It fit perfectly, and I smiled to myself in the mirror. Once I fixed my makeup, I would actually look like I belonged in West Side Story. So while my music continued to play, I walked from the bathroom and into the black box room where the mirrors were and pulled my makeup bag out, wiped everything off and started fresh. As I uncapped my liquid eyeliner, the songs switched, and on came Paris by Kate Nash, and I giggled to myself, singing along and trying not to poke myself in the eye. "You can do anything you want, World is an oyster, don't disappoint us, ta!" I finished my cat eyes, bopping my head as I zipped up my bag and put it into my backpack.
I suppose I was a bit distracted, in my own little world as I often was with my music, because I never heard footsteps or even the bathroom door open. And the next thing I knew, hands were pulling mine off my backpack and spinning me out in a swing-style dance. Letting out a surprised laugh, I looked at Rory over our arms, and he grinned. "You've got good taste in music, Piper Fabray." He spun me in, and I let my feet slide on the floor, his arms wrapping around me. "Still climbing trees, tripping up over fallen leaves, but holding hands," he sung along to the music, and looked down at me, swaying. I fought a giggle, spinning back out and grabbing his other hand to dance as the chorus came up.
"I prefer just Piper, but thanks, I try." We shuffled to the side, shaking our hips in a ridiculously swing fashion. He was dressed the part too-in black slacks and a red, short sleeved button down. His hair was back to normal again, poufy, pulled back at the sides in a retro do. "You'll never listen to me, no you'll never listen to me," I sang, shaking my hand a kicking my heels up.
"No you'll never listen to me, no you'll never listen to me," he sang right back. "I saw Kate Nash at a show in Bristol once-took the train there with me mates. She's amazing live."
"I know," I huffed, trying to keep up with his impressive dancing skills. I'd taken some lessons a few years back, at the recommendation of our cheer coach, and I was good, but Rory was great. "I saw her in Cardiff last summer.I don't know everything about you, would you like to spend time with me?"
"Said you'd lend me anything, I think I'll have your company. You're not half bad at this." We moved along the slick floor of the room, and I smiled, shaking my shoulders as he started dancing behind me, holding either of my arms out.
"Neither are you. I think I'll have your company!" Before I could protest, Rory's hands slid under my shoulders, lifting me up and throwing me up into his arms. I let him toss me around his back, spinning with him as he brought me back down. "You'll never listen to me, no you'll never listen to me."
"You ready for a big finish?" he asked, spinning me out and then back into his chest and sliding his arms under me again. "You'll never listen to me, no you'll never listen to me." I knew exactly what he was going for, and to avoid, any sort of embarrassment, I went with it. I came back down, and pushed up using my legs, supporting my elbows on his shoulder as I kicked in the air, thanking Jesus, Mary and Joseph that my tights had been spared.
"No you'll never listen to me, no you'll never listen to me," I finished as he held me tight and brought me back down. Suddenly, there was a sound from the doorway behind me. It was clapping. Someone was clapping. I turned around, almost tripping over my own two feet to find a crowd of people sitting just inside the door. The entire cast of the musical, and its directors, it seemed, had been watching. "Uhm. How long have you…"
"Long enough to know that you guys were amazing!" Finn said from the back. "I knew you could sing, Piper, but I didn't know you were that good." A short girl near the front with brown hair and blunt bangs gave him a concerned look.
"Or that either of you could dance like that," Quinn said, giving me an approving smile. "It was awesome."
"You were both amazing," the woman I assumed to be Ms. Pillsbury, the one who'd taken the boys to the office, said, clapping her hands together with a mirthful expression. I giggled-she was adorable.
"And I think I speak on behalf of all of us when I say-you're more than welcome to join the Glee Club," Mr. Schuester said, his hands clasped together in front of him. Rory took a step up from behind me, putting an arm around my shoulder and grinning down at me. We were both still kind of trying to catch our breaths, and his chest heaved just the tiniest bit against my shoulder.
"Well, whadya say, Piper?" I looked up at him, closing my eyes for a second and taking a deep breath.
"Guys, I don't know, I just got here and-
"Come on, P!" Quinn whined, crossing her arms. "You said it yourself yesterday, you miss being part of a group."
"And you two were amazing together!" an Asian girl closer to the front said, smiling. "You make a great pair."
"You heard Tina!" Rory said, moving his arm and coming to my front, looking me straight in the eye. So that was Tina. "We make a great pair." To my utter and complete shock, he dropped down on one knee, holding one of my hands out in front of me. "Please don't make me grovel. Just say you'll join." There was a collective agreement from the group at the door, and I fought a laugh. "It'll be fu-un," he said in a sing song voice. I let out another deep breath, my other hand coming up to my face and rubbing my temple.
"What the heck, why not?" Cheers overwhelmed my ears as Rory jumped up, pulling me to his chest in a tight hug. I was still a bit shocked from the proposal-like stance from earlier, but this big hug just seemed weird, especially remembering that he was younger-and yet taller than me.
But I guess I better get used to that. Because now, I'm in a club with Rory. I'm in a club. I, Piper Waldorf "Fabray", am in Glee Club. And there's no going back now.
So, what'd you think? I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Rory. I used to listen to Celtic Thunder in middle school (count em-four years ago) and after seeing Damian on TGP, I had to write Rory into this story. Uhm. Unintentional rhyme there. Anywho. Seriously. I want y'alls input. I'm not gonna threaten, but I wanna know what you think! Who should be with who, what should happen next. Most of my stories are fan driven, and I don't want this to be any different! XOXO Holly