Brittany knows that Santana doesn't always say exactly what she means. In fact, sometimes she says the opposite.
Like when Santana's parents tell her that they plan to stay at work late so she'll have to make her own dinner, Santana shrugs and doesn't look up from her homework. She says, "Whatever. I can make macaroni," but what she really means is that even though she can cook for herself, she wishes that she didn't have to do it so often and that she hates being alone all the time.
Even though Santana won't talk about it, Brittany knows that Santana is lonely because on nights when Santana's parents work late, Santana tends to show up at Brittany's house just before dinnertime. Santana says, "Hey, Britt. Do you want to hang out?" but what she really means is, "Can I please stay over for dinner?"
It's started happening more and more often lately.
Brittany's mom doesn't mind setting an extra plate for Santana, so it's fine that Santana eats over with the Pierces a lot. Actually, Brittany's mom really likes Santana, which is probably why she said okay when Brittany asked her to pack an extra lunch for Santana to take on their field trip to the zoo today. (Santana's mom forgot to make her anything before she went out of town for her conference. Santana says it's no big deal, but Brittany knows it is.)
As Brittany's mom pulls their van into the parking lot to drop Brittany and Santana off for the day, Santana looks at the lumpy, brown sack in her lap and says, "You really didn't have to do this, Mrs. Pierce," but what she really means is, "Thank you." Brittany's mom must know that, because her face tightens as she peeks at Santana in the rearview mirror. "It's no problem, Santana. Really," she says. Santana nods, still looking at her lap.
After Brittany and Santana get out of the van and Brittany's mom drives away, Santana says, "Your mom is so cool, Britt," scuffing her shoes along the curb. Brittany knows Santana really means that one, but that she also means something else beyond it, too—something more to do with her own parents.
Brittany senses a sadness starting in Santana, so she stops it before it can settle. Brittany says, "I hope they have otters at the zoo, San."
Santana smiles, clutching her sack lunch. "Then I hope they have them, too."
It takes an hour and a half to drive all the way from Lima to the zoo and Brittany is pretty sure that she has never been on a longer bus ride in her life. She and Santana sit in the back of the bus with the other popular kids, but don't really talk to them. Santana brought her iPod along and she shares her earbuds with Brittany. They listen to music with their heads pushed close together, the y-shaped cord hanging lazily between them.
At first, when they reach the zoo, the whole seventh grade goes in a big group to watch this fancy tropical bird show in the outdoor amphitheater, but after that the teachers turn everyone loose to explore the grounds in pairs. The rules are that they have to stay on the zoo property, always have a buddy, and be back at the buses by no later than four o'clock. They should remember that they are all representatives of MMS, so they need to be on their best behavior and respect the other zoo patrons, the zoo staff, and the animals. Anyone who breaks the rules will have to go see the principal when they get back to the school.
The fun part is that they can eat their lunches whenever they want—though the teachers warn that if they eat too early in the day, they'll probably get hungry again later on. They have a biology worksheet they need to complete based on some of the exhibits, but no one seems too fussed about it. It will be due on Monday for all four sections, including the honors class. It would be in their best interest to put some effort into the worksheet while they're still at the zoo, the teachers say.
Brittany and Santana don't plan to meet up with Noah Puckerman, but somehow they do, and he shows them to a little out-of-the-way picnic pavilion on the far edge of the grounds. Bushes and trees lean over the roof, loudly green against the grayish sky. The teachers say that if it rains everyone should go inside; Brittany wonders if the pavilion counts as "inside" or not.
Once they all sit down, Noah pulls out a pack of American Spirits he stole from his uncle. He lights one up with a red BIC that looks so scuffed and dirty that Brittany knows he must have found it in a parking lot. He says they can all share the one cigarette. Brittany and Santana say that's cool.
Santana sits above Brittany on one of the aluminum tabletops. She leans down to Brittany. "Little breaths, okay?" Santana whispers, quiet enough that only Brittany can hear her. Brittany nods and nuzzles against Santana's kneecap, waiting for Santana to take the first drag, which she does, slowly and easily, before passing the smoldering cigarette down to Brittany for a taste. Noah seems to like watching Brittany and Santana smoke, so he doesn't interrupt them while they're at it.
"Awesome," he says, eyes fixing on the pink glossy stains their lips leave behind on the butt.
Santana offers him a smile that he probably thinks is real.
Brittany doesn't really like smoking and doesn't do it often, but she doesn't mind it enough not to do it sometimes. Smoking on a school field trip seems like a pretty badass thing to do, and being badass matters to Santana, so Brittany just follows Santana and Noah's lead, relaxing as the hot, peppery scent of warm tobacco fills the humid air, content to go along.
"Weren't you supposed to be buddies with Finn?" Brittany asks Noah, leaning further back onto Santana.
Noah just laughs, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Finn will be fine," he says. "There are some things that Finn doesn't need to know." He gestures to the cigarette.
"Santana tells me everything," Brittany says, which is true, whether Santana knows it or not. Noah gets a funny look on his face and Brittany doesn't like it. The way his eyes shift makes her nervous.
"I bet," he says.
"My cousin told me that if I licked my elbow, I would turn into a boy, but I tried it and it totally didn't work, which sucks, because I've always wanted to pee standing up," Brittany says in a rush, changing the momentum of the moment.
Noah chuckles a bit. Santana looks down at Brittany, her eyebrows knit together, but she says nothing. Everyone goes quiet. Success.
They continue smoking for a while before Brittany says, "Want some chips, San?" and Santana nods, so Brittany reaches into her backpack and pulls out the sack lunches.
As soon as Noah sees them, he scoffs. "You brought lunches from home?" There's a sour note in his voice.
"Yeah." Brittany doesn't see what the big deal is.
"Did your mom cut your sandwich into triangles for you?" Noah jeers.
Everything happens quickly after that.
Something shifts and Brittany tenses. She feels Santana stiffen behind her and watches as Santana tosses away the cigarette butt, scattering angry, orange cinders across the concrete floor. Noah has no idea what's coming, but Brittany does; she flinches. Santana scrambles to her feet, standing on the picnic bench. She starts screaming at Noah in Spanish, gesturing with wild arms for him to get out, leave, now.
What Santana says sounds sharp like knives, but what Santana means is something more like "Ouch."
"Jesus, fuck!" says Noah. He throws up his hands, surrendering, then snatches up his backpack and the cigarette carton and stomps away, heading back towards the main zoo building down the trail. He doesn't run, but he does walk purposefully, his pace quicker than usual.
Brittany can feel Santana trembling all over through the aluminum bench. She knows that if she doesn't do something soon, she'll lose Santana for the day.
"Come on, San. Grab my backpack," she says, standing up in front of the table. "Piggyback ride."
She lifts her arms away from her sides, creating space for Santana to arrange her legs over her hipbones as needed. Brittany waits, allowing Santana a moment to decide if she wants to do this. It takes a while before Santana moves. Brittany can't see her, but hears Santana pick up the crinkling lunch sacks and jam them into her backpack, then the bench rattle as Santana steps forward, slumping onto Brittany's back. Weight. Pressure. Santana's warm arms tight around her neck.
"Am I pulling your hair, Britt?" Santana asks in her ear.
"Nope," Brittany says. "Let's go find the otters."
Santana nods. "Let's do it." There's a smile in her voice.
They spend the next couple hours roaming the grounds, purposefully avoiding their classmates, though neither of them admits to doing it aloud. After lunch, they pull out their worksheets, which involve filling out Punnett squares based on the primary genetic traits of some of the animals and a bunch of fake allele combinations that their science teacher made up. Brittany is good at Punnett squares, so she winds up doing almost the whole assignment for Santana.
"You're so smart, Britt," Santana says, watching as Brittany determines whether the jaguar in the rainforest exhibit would be more likely to give birth to black or spotted cubs if it mated with a panther—which is stupid, because the jaguar at this zoo is male, so it can't give birth to anything anyway.
Brittany feels a low, sweet warmth spread over her. Her ears have probably turned pink. Brittany grins at Santana. She loves it when Santana says exactly what she means.
Secretly, Brittany thinks she might be the only person in the world who knows that Santana acts super cute when she feels really, really happy.
Today, Santana is nothing short of adorable.
Early on in the afternoon, Santana gets into a staring contest with a snow leopard, hunkering down over the guard rail and narrowing her eyes intently. When it looks away from her, Santana cheers and does a cartwheel on the sidewalk. "Yeah, you better blink!" she crows, "Big damn pussy! Ha!"
In the reptile house, she gives all the snakes and lizards dog names. "Look at him," Santana says, pressing a finger to the glass on the chuckwalla cage. "Spot here totally wants to play fetch. Let's find a stick." Her giant smile gives everything away. Brittany smiles, too.
About an hour before they have to leave, Santana buys them a snowcone to share from a cart. It turns their lips a fierce, deep red and freezes their cheeks from the insides. The ice chips cut against their tongues, leaving them raw and strangely numb.
"Did your mom give you money for this?" Brittany slurs, about five bites in.
"Nope."
"So you spent your own money on this?"
"Yup."
"Thank you, San."
"It was worth it."
Brittany knows just what she means.
The bus ride back to Lima takes even more time than the bus ride to the zoo did because they get stuck in rush hour traffic on their way out of Toledo. The teachers have to call the school to tell the principal they'll be late getting back. Brittany and Santana miss the bus home, which means they have to walk. Normally, they wouldn't mind, but after walking all day at the zoo, their feet feel kind of tired, and Brittany still has dance practice tonight. She groans.
"We could always hitchhike," Santana says, but what she really means is, "Poor BrittBritt."
Santana winds up going with Brittany to her dance practice and sits in the corner while Brittany learns new steps for jazz. Every now and again Brittany sees Santana smiling at her in the room-length mirror. Brittany smiles back and her heart skips a beat.
At night, as they fall into bed—Dr. and Mrs. Lopez are in Miami for the weekend, so they arranged for Santana to stay with Brittany until Sunday—Santana sighs and curls up close to Brittany, braiding their legs under the covers. She presses their foreheads together and Brittany feels that same low, sweet heat from the zoo spread all over her. Santana licks her lips and her breathing comes in threads. Her eyes keep darting back and forth, glancing at Brittany and then looking away. She inhales sharply.
"That was fun today," Santana says, her voice high and flighty.
Brittany knows just what she means.
"Yeah, me, too."
She kisses Santana on the forehead before they fall to sleep.