A/N: Hey there, everybody! So originally this chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to split it into two parts in order to get it out faster to you guys. I'm already halfway through writing the next part, so hopefully I'll get that out soon :D

And I wanted to thank everybody who offered their thoughts and reviewed the last chapter. To all the guests that I can't PM, you are not forgotten nor any less important, so thank you!

Hope you enjoy this update! Without further ado, I bring to you, chapter number two! :)

November 4, 2013

*rnnnnnnnnng*

"Mmm..."

*rnnnnnnnnng*

"Ugh..."

*rnnnnnnnnng*

"Jesus okay, I'm up! I'm up!" Brittany shouts at the source of the interruption to her sweet dreams. She groggily crawls across the comforter to turn off the annoying alarm clock on her sideboard table and then sits up at the edge of her bed. When she takes a solid glance at the time, her face scrunches up in confusion. 6:15? But school doesn't start 'til 7:50. Why the hell did my alarm wake me up half an hour earlier than it should have? Maybe Tubbs changed the time to mess with me. She lets out an a resigned sigh and rolls her eyes. Dang cat, I need my sleep.

And then she remembers.

This isn't her room back in Midland. This is the spare bedroom she's sharing with Hayley in Grammy's house. Outside the window there isn't a empty dirt lot with unmanageable weeds growing everywhere, there are a cluster of finely trimmed maple trees. And school doesn't start at 7:50. It starts at 7:20.

Because today is her first day at William McKinley High School.

The first day of the next two years of her life.

And—

"Brittany if you don't get your butt moving right now, you're going to be late!" Her mom calls from the base of the stairs.

Well at least some things never change no matter where she wakes up. Groaning and stretching, she slowly works her way towards the bathroom, but not before nearly running into the bed stationed next to her. Curled up on top of the bed is a fast asleep Hayley, snoring to her heart's content. Brittany chuckles and shakes her head. That girl can sleep through anything. Even her mom's relentless yapping and an obnoxious alarm clock.

That's one more thing Brittany has to get used to: sharing a room with her little sister. Until the basement gets cleared out and she can have a room to herself, she and Hayley are stuck together. Not that Brittany doesn't like being close to her sibling, but there's only so much 'grizzly bear with a partially blocked nasal passage' wheezing she can take before she's going to start sleeping on the couch.

After getting dressed and taking a quick shower, Brittany's running down the stairs and towards the kitchen. As she passes the living room, she spots her Grammy rocking in the rocking chair while watching the morning news. She can't help but smile at the sight; nothing is more adorable than her grandmother wrapped up in blankets, humming an old 50's tune quietly to herself—perhaps reminiscing of a time when she and Grandat were physically together. Ever since her family had arrived last week, Brittany's been noticing a change in Grammy's behavior.

When they first came, Grammy could barely look any of them in the eye without breaking down in to tears. But over the past couple of days, Grammy has been dropping hints that the comforting presence of the Pierce family has made dealing with the loss of her husband much more bearable.

Not wanting to disturb her Grammy's peace and quiet, Brittany silently sneaks past the entryway of the living room. Once she reaches the kitchen, she rushes to grab some cereal from the pantry and pops a piece of bread into the toaster. Her mom zooms by a couple moments later and grabs her keys.

"We gotta go, hun," she says. "Five more minutes and I'll meet you in the car."

"Wait, but why can't I take the Ninja? It's faster and then you can drive straight to the office," Brittany questions. Her mom hasn't dropped her off at school since she got her license last year. Why now?

"Britt, your bike won't be here for another week, remember? The moving truck still has to drive it up with our other stuff," her mom replies. "And plus, I need to go grocery shopping so it's really no big deal for me to drop you off."

Oh, right. The moving truck...because they moved. Right. Apparently it'll take longer to adjust than she originally thought. You're not in Texas anymore. This is Ohio. You're not in Texas. Things are different. Remember that.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot about the moving truck," Brittany admits, embarrassed. "Let me just finish my cereal and I'll be out."

"Alright, but hurry!"

Once she drains every last drop of milk from her bowl, Brittany hops toward the door with a piece of toast hanging from her jaw, throws her backpack she got ready the night before over her shoulder, and steps out into the chilling Ohio autumn air.

All around the neighborhood, the last of the orange leaves on the trees are beginning their annual descent towards the earth below, preparing for the cold winter to come. Brittany observes that the Pierce family are not the only ones undergoing change this season.

The drive to McKinley is relatively silent as Brittany's nerves slowly begin to creep up and settle into the pit of her stomach. Okay Pierce, it's okay. It's a new school. You're the new kid. So what? They don't know jack shit about you. You are a TILF state champion. You are the 2013 Midland High School Women's Basketball MVP. There's nothing to be worried about. No one can hurt you.

To take her mind off the impending furrowed brows and squinting eyes that she is bound to receive today, Brittany rests her head on the window and absorbs the surrounding fall scenery. She's been to Lima many times in her life, but never more than a few days every couple of years, and never with the intention of actually living here for the rest of her high school career. As she looks out the window, she can't help but compare her old home in Texas to her new home here in Ohio. It's more rural than what she's used to. A little less urban, a little more suburban. Population 38,000, not 380,000. But there's still that western America feel that she's grown up with and learned to love. So very different, yet so very much the same.

Before she knows it, the imposing buildings of William McKinley High School are coming into view. All around loitering in front of the school are kids of all different shapes and sizes. Some are wearing red cheerleading uniforms and letterman jackets, while others are wearing normal everyday street clothes. This is it. Remember. First impressions are important. Don't screw up. It's just the next two years of your life. You can do this.

"And here we are, Britt." Her mom pulls to a stop at the curb in front of the school and gives her an encouraging smile through the rear view mirror. Brittany just grunts and opens the door, trying to shake out the butterflies rippling throughout her body.

"So I talked to the school one more time last night and they said to go the counselor's office to get your schedule and your lunch ticket," her mom instructs her through the rolled down window. "Good luck, have fun and learn lots!"

Brittany attempts a feeble smile, throws a small 'thank you' in her mom's direction and starts walking towards the front doors of the high school. She pauses at the bottom of the steps and takes a deep breath. Remember. You're a champion. You can do this. Her advisory thoughts are interrupted by the warning bell as many of the students begin to leisurely enter the main building. Brittany takes another look at her surroundings before marching up the steps and into the halls of William McKinley High.

After walking around for a couple of minutes and losing her way more than a couple of times, she finally reaches the glass-paneled room that has 'COUNSELOR'S OFFICE: MS. PILLSBURY' written on the door. Without wasting anymore time, Brittany gently knocks on the mahogany wood, and after hearing a peppy "Come in!", she turns the handle and enters the office.

Brittany's greeted with the biggest pair of doe-eyes and the brightest head of ginger hair she's ever seen. If she wasn't so nervous about her first day of school, she might laugh at the comical sight before her. Instead, she walks closer to the counselor's desk in order to ask about the items she's supposed to be receiving.

"Hi, umm Ms...Pillsbury?" She hesitates and waits for the counselor's confirmation and encouraging nod.

"Yes dear, what is it that you need?" Ms. Pillsbury inquires with an over-enthusiastic eagerness, probably ecstatic at the chance to finally help a student in need.

"Well, this is my first day here and my mom called last night?" Brittany's statement comes out more like a question and she clears her throat before continuing. "She said to come here to get my schedule." There's a pause as Ms. Pillsbury squints her eyes, and then they widen almost comically with recognition.

"Yes, yes! Brittany Pierce was it?" Brittany gives a short nod, tightening her lips and pulling the corners up into a thin smile. "Oh good! Okay so here is your schedule and lunch ticket," she says, handing Brittany the items, careful not to touch skin to skin. "And because you're transferring so late into the school year, unfortunately your homeroom is full. Usually we try to organize everybody alphabetically, but there are just too many P's this year... Hey! I'm part of the P Club too! We're two P's in a pod!" exclaims Ms. Pillsbury, nodding her head emphatically and staring at Brittany with her freakishly ginormous eyes.

Was that meant to be a joke?

"Heh...um...cool," Brittany mumbles as she eyes the counselor warily. This lady has a serious rambling problem. After a couple awkward moments of silence and an unintentional staring contest, Brittany motions towards the door and asks, "So should I just go now, or...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! What was I getting at? Oh yes! I wanted to tell you that you'll be in homeroom J through L with Mr. Schuester," Ms. Pillsbury says, smiling at the end of her sentence. "And I'll take you! Wouldn't want you to get lost, right?" She chuckles while getting up and making her way to the door. Brittany follows soundlessly behind her, still trying to decide if this lady is actually from this planet or the next one over.

She continues following Ms. Pillsbury down the hall and after passing several doors, they both come to a halt. Through the classroom, it looks like a teacher is taking roll and suddenly her nerves are back, a roller coaster drop to her heart and the impact of a freight train to her stomach. When Ms. Pillsbury gives her one last expectant look—a silent 'are you ready?'—Brittany shrugs; on the outside she's impassive and stiff, on the inside a swirl of liquid hot anxiety threatens to overtake her body. She's already anticipating the judgmental looks she's going to get for being 'the new kid' in the middle of the fall semester.

Remember. They don't know jack shit about you.

"Just wait here for one moment, please," the counselor says before opening the door to the classroom and poking her head through.

Brittany hears muffled voices from the doorway and soon both Ms. Pillsbury and who she assumes to be Mr. Schuester are walking back out into the hall. Mr. Schuester smiles an almost creepy grin and she can't help but shudder at the sight. He looks like a nice guy and all, but that hair and that pedophillic smile don't do much for his appearance.

"Will, this is our new student, Brittany Pierce. She's just joining us from...Minnesota did your mom say?"

"Texas."

"Oh yes, that's it! I was close." About as close as the cavemen were to inventing the telephone.

"Nice to meet you Brittany, it's great to have you in my homeroom," Mr. Schuester smiles again and this time it almost feels genuine. Brittany just returns the smile and looks into the open classroom where students are giggling and babbling nonsense to one another.

"Alright, so let's get this show on the road, shall we?" The teacher chuckles and clasps his hands together. "See you around, Emma," he winks at Ms. Pillsbury and yeah. There's definitely something going on there. Gross.

Ms. Pillsbury gives him a timid smile and awkwardly pats Brittany on the back before wiping her hand on her skirt. Please don't let the rest of the school be as weird as these two.

Mr. Schuester turns towards the door and waves for Brittany to follow him into the classroom. "Okay everybody quiet!" Mr. Schuester commands over the loud commotion going on in front of him, and the students barely quiet down. "Guys, listen up and give a warm welcome to the newest member of McKinley, Brittany Pierce!" At the sound of 'newest member of McKinley', the classroom clamor dies as all eyes turn towards Brittany.

Brittany grabs onto the edge of her shirt and looks down, scuffing the floor lightly with her feet. Confused whispers sound around the room until one boy too curious for his own good decides to speak for the rest of them.

"Why is she transferring here in November?" The rest of the class murmurs approval of the inquiry and before Brittany can stutter out a response that doesn't directly reveal her grandfather's death (she'd like to keep that information on the down low as much as possible), Mr. Schuester is answering for her.

"It doesn't matter, Dave, all that matters is that Brittany's here now and we should all be welcoming of her," he sends the intimidating jock with the broken filter, 'Dave' apparently, a warning glare, which seems like a common occurrence between the two.

"Brittany, why don't you tell us something about yourself?" Mr. Schuester then asks to direct the attention away from Dave's rude obtrusion, and Brittany instantly shifts her gaze up to the teacher's in alarm. No, no, no! I don't need any more things for these people, especially this Dave guy to call me out on! Shit, please dude just let me sit down. She looks at him, silently begging to skip the introduction and go straight to her seat. Nevertheless, her prayers go unanswered when Mr. Schuester raises his eyebrows and urges her on with a tilt of his head; apparently he won't be letting her off the hook without an introduction first.

Brittany grits her teeth and turns back around to face the classroom. All eyes are on her as she struggles for something to say that won't be an open invitation for judgment and ridicule.

Okay, dont talk about Lord Tubbington, everyone will think you're some weird cat lady. Don't talk about Grammy and Grandat because then people might pity you. Who knows what people will say if you talk about Texas.

There's really only one thing left. Everybody thinks playing sports is cool. It's like written in the Terms and Conditions of being a teenager.

"Well, um hi, my names Brittany, and I like to uh, play basketball," she inwardly cringes at the weakness in her voice and the awkward phrasing of her statement. But at least she did what this Mr. Schuester guy wanted so now she can go sit in the back and pretend like she doesn't exist. Maybe people won't bother her just like they didn't at Midland.

But Dave has other plans.

"Basketball?" the Neanderthal snorts. "Laaame. Girls don't play basketball. They might break a nail or something." Half of the class erupts into laughter at his goading jab, the other half looks at her with pitying eyes, both groups used to Dave's relentless behavior.

"Karofsky. That. Is. Enough," Mr. Schuester glares at him as Brittany still stands uncomfortably in front of the classroom, desperate to look nonplussed by the harsh stares and words. "Brittany, you can go take a seat over there," he says, his voice soft with an unspoken apology blended into the light of his eyes as he points to the empty seat in the back of the classroom.

Brittany swallows down the lump in her throat and begins walking towards her seat. Luckily, most kids have reverted back to talking amongst themselves and are no longer paying attention to the embarrassing situation (well, embarrassing for her) in the front of the classroom. Not so luckily, one student is still keen on perpetuating it.

As Brittany approaches the first row of seats, the harsh white of an open notebook laying on someone's desk in the third row catches her eye. On the notebook is a simple drawing etched into the lined paper with dark ink. When Brittany is close enough to see the lines more defined, she is captivated. The sketch looks to be of two birds wrapped loosely in ribbons—perhaps carrying the streamers in their beaks? She can't tell—breaking out of their cage and flying towards the clouds above. Something about it pulls Brittany in; she's sure there must be some message behind it, but she can't figure out what.

Realizing that she had paused in the middle of the row of desks to admire the illustration, she embarrassingly continues on, still keeping her eyes locked onto the drawing. Brittany can't seem to take her eyes away, but eventually she makes an attempt to shift her gaze up.

Before she can raise her eyes any higher to see the creator of the mesmerizing birds, Brittany is abruptly interrupted. She barely gets past the second row before she feels something hard hit her feet as they start to fall out from under her. To brace herself from the fall and to keep from landing on her face, she blindly sticks her hands out in front of her.

She looks behind her to see what might have caused the fall, and she shouldn't be surprised at what she finds. Douchebag Dave is wearing a smug little smirk that makes Brittany's toes curl in rage. Her face turns bright red, from the anger boiling in the pit of her stomach or the mortifying stares from many of the students she isn't sure.

If this wasn't her first day of school and there weren't some 30-odd witnesses focusing all their attention on the scene before them, Brittany would show this guy just how many nails she's willing to break to give him a piece of her mind. But she doesn't want to be sent to the principal's office anytime soon, so she just takes a deep breath and swings her head back around to see what exactly saved her from falling flat on her face and making her first Homeroom at McKinley even more humiliating than it already was.

The object that braced her fall? None other than the desk. And even better than that? Her hands had slammed straight onto the ink-filled page of the notebook. The ink-filled page with the drawing. Crap.

As soon as she sets her eyes on her hands and subsequently the page in which they rest to see the damage she had done to the masterpiece, the cover of the book is being slammed over the protruding knuckles of her fingers, forcing Brittany to take her hand out from underneath the enclosed pages. Brittany immediately looks up to see who the artist of the drawing was and why they so were so hasty to shut the notebook closed before she could sneak another peek.

What she's met with are a pair of creased brows settling over impenetrably alluring dark eyes that are staring straight into Brittany's. The eyes are even more mysterious and captivating than the drawing the girl that sits before her created. Then those eyes are drifting down to Brittany's hands and when she follows the gaze, she's startled to find the underside of her palms and thumbs covered in ink. The ink that once belonged to the two birds. Oh shit.

Fucking Karofsky causing BrittBritt to fall into things she wasn't expecting to fall into...