She hated me. She hated me so much and she was totally gonna say it again, just like when were 13.
I wasn't gonna look at that fucking shirt she'd made for me that read "LEBANESE." I wasn't gonna say "Thank you." It was better to just put on my bitch face and make it easier for her hate to bleed on through.
"Don't even think about telling anyone," I said, turning my back on her to open my locker.
"Why not? You're like the most awesomest girl at this school. Why would you try to hide any of that?"
"I'm dating Karofsky now," I said, the taste of his name in my mouth making my fingers go all shaky.
"It's gross," Brittany replied.
And I really believed, just for a second, that the same bitter taste was all over her tongue too.
"You don't get a say in who I date anymore," I shot back.
She said a bunch of crap about me being gay that I didn't feel like hearing, so I just played a Nicki Minaj song in my head until I figured I had to step in again.
"I said I love you."
I fucking love you, Brittany. How many times do I have to say it? What else do I have to prove?
"You didn't say I love you back." I jabbed it into her like the point of a pencil.
"I do love you," she told me harshly. "Clearly you don't love you as much as I do, or you'd put this shirt on and you would dance with me."
Brittany thrust it at me, swirling out of the hallway in her own "I'M WITH STOOPID" T-shirt and a shiny blue nylon jacket.
"Dammit," I muttered, standing there alone.
I eyed the black letters buried in my fist. L-E-B-A-N-E-S-E. Thank God they didn't say what they really meant. I shoved the T-shirt into my backpack and walked home, taking the opposite way that Brittany had.
"It's not stupid to be strong," she'd told me the other week before I'd gotten that slushee facial from Karofsky. "You can do it. Just tell Glee Club."
"No fucking way," I said.
We were at our lockers where everyone could see us, where everyone could hear us. I was crazy enough the first time around, confessing all that shit to her about love and feelings and blah blah blah. It certainly wasn't gonna happen again.
"It's not stupid," she repeated.
"It's incredibly stupid, Brit. Look at me. Are you forgetting who I am, Santana Lopez, the undisputed top bitch at this school? I'm not...like that. So just drop it."
"Remember when you made me go see that scary Heath Ledger movie with you?" she asked, popping open the door of her locker and extracting two textbooks. "The summer before we started here?"
"Yeah. So?"
"You told me that regular people can be superheroes."
"Yeah," I uttered. "And I wound up with a fractured ankle and a bunch of scars. Now that was stupid. You said so yourself. And this would be equally retarded."
"You could be like Batman though," Brittany said, carefully closing the locker door. "You're kind of like him, with your vicious words and your evil eye. Those could be like powers maybe." She turned to smile at me.
"Maybe," I said. I had to agree with her. And I had to smile back.
And then Dave Karofsky had something to do too, ruining the moment by icing my face a lovely shade of cherry red.
So what the hell was I doing here now with him, after school in the auditorium, hiding out in the back while everyone else got on stage and sang about accepting themselves? I kept my eyes on Brittany the whole time. She looked so happy. She looked so happy in that damn T-shirt.
I'd put mine on for her anyway, the stupid LEBANESE shirt that was supposed to say LESBIAN. I was wearing my one weakness right on my chest for all of the bad guys to notice. How stupid was I? I wasn't strong, that was for sure.
Could Brittany see me from where she was, lit up on the stage and dancing into a flame? I looked down and folded my arms across the black letters. Dave's breathing was steady beside mine. He had his letterman jacket on and no weakness underneath.
"You wore it?" he asked.
But it wasn't really a question.
"It's my superhero outfit," I said softly. "I'm giving it a test run, for when I get you back for slusheeing me later. When you least expect it, Karofsky. When you least expect it."
He made a face that was all stone and I rubbed at the quarry scar on my elbow. "I don't get it," he said.
"Me neither," I muttered. "Never mind."
It felt so weird to be sitting there, half-masked and half-caped, like some part of me could take off flying at any moment while the other would have to stay behind in the shadows. How strong did I have to be to separate myself? How stupid?
I ducked my chin into the T-shirt and stood up.
"Later, Karofsky," I said sharply.
And then I walked away from Brittany, her little light on stage, calling out for me through the darkness. I slipped back into my coat and back into the blackened hallways.