Chapter 2: Smells Like Teen Spirit
Quinn knew that Santana Lopez would only ever admit to learning three things in high school.
One, at any mention of Lima Heights Adjacent, people tend to quickly get out of her way. It was a fact.
Two, words cut much deeper than razors. Though she wasn't opposed to a good physical altercation from time to time, her first weapon of choice would always be an insult.
Three, making one hell an entrance will absolutely make your high school career.
'And she learned well.' Quinn observed as Santana threw open the double entrance doors of McKinley High from the row of lockers she was casually leaning against. The red and white of Santana's Cheerio's uniform and solid red captain's jacket made her status clear to the student body.
Almost immediately following her entrance was a chilling blast of cold air and rolling clouds of condensation fog; Quinn rolled her eyes at this. The smoke was literally pouring off of the self-proclaimed ice queen in waves as she walked through the hallways.
'Show off.' Quinn thought as Santana smirked at the students who stared in her direction, slack-jawed at her incredible show of power. Santana's eyes gradually shifted from her normal dark brown, to a shocking, icy blue. It was a sign that her abilities were fully activated, and also nature's way of sending out a clear warning to all who oppose her.
Quinn felt a little bit envious of her friend's display, but she knew that Santana's masterful control of her abilities only came with her years of experience. The jealously she felt was suddenly replaced with pride. Even at the risk of prejudice she refused to do nothing but show the world exactly who she was. Quinn wished she could say the same about one of Santana's more obvious traits, but that was an argument for another time.
When Santana finally made it to Quinn's position in the hallway, she couldn't resist the smirk that crossed her features. "Tone it down, would you? "
The new cheerleading captain spun on her heels with a mocking glare at Quinn, threw out a mental, 'Quiet, Q. I don't have to tone down shit,' and continued on her way. All without breaking her stride.
Quinn's smirk widened to a grin. "I'm sorry Satan, I didn't quite hear you."
Santana's only response was a middle finger in the air.
Quinn shook her head in amusement and pushed herself off of the lockers.
Though Quinn practically invented the art of Grand Entrances—one of the last things Santana would ever openly admit to —she decided to stay below the radar for the time being. She knew that with her drastic change in style, and almost the entire school knowing that she was a 'super' due to her summer stint on the local news, it wouldn't last for long.
Her hair, hot pink as ever, stuck out at odd angles in controlled disarray. Her black shirt hung loosely around her slight frame, gray jeans—decorated in various rips and tears—was snug around her hips, and black boots and various forms of jewelry clicked and jingled with every step she took. Though she might have secretly missed the gentle swish of her baby doll dresses, she absolutely needed to make a statement. She no longer wanted to be the same Quinn. The lying, cheating, impregnated Quinn wore dresses. She needed to separate herself from that girl.
'I'm late! So late!' The words of someone else's thoughts interrupted her own. She paused as her eyes shifted briefly to a golden hue, mentally preparing herself for an onslaught. The person's thoughts were indistinct, simply appearing in her mind without a voice to match. She learned that her telepathy abilities only worked in that way if she couldn't see the person who was projecting their thoughts. She figured that her mind needed to make a visual connection in order to give a voice to the thoughts that she picked up. Quinn ignored the unknown person and turned the corner into another hallway, heading towards her homeroom class. She was also running the risk of being late as well.
'If I hadn't of spent that extra fifteen minutes on the elliptical this morning…' the voice continued. 'It didn't help that I got so little sleep last night. Also, note to self: No more pep talks in the morning. Though inspirational in nature, the risk of tardiness and tarnishing my perfect attendance record is too great.'
Quinn rolled her eyes. There was only one person she knew of that would think in paragraphs.
Standing barely twenty feet away, alone in the hallway, was none other than Rachel Berry. The thoughts entering Quinn's head had suddenly formed a voice.
'…and I have so many things to do today.' Rachel was currently rummaging through her locker, stacking various folders—in alphabetical order, no doubt—while grabbing a few empty ones for her new classes.
Quinn was torn between pretending she never saw the girl and greeting her simply out of politeness. She briefly wondered if Rachel was housing any super-natural abilities, but she didn't recall seeing her on the ASNA registration list. It was mandatory that 'super' students registered before attending school. Quinn was also bit eager to see the Glee club's reaction to her new look and she figured there was no better place to start than with one Rachel Berry. So she steeled her shoulders, brought her hands to hips and walked towards the girl with a nonchalant smirk in place.
The warning bell suddenly rang through the halls.
'Shit!' Quinn's head pounded at the strength of Rachel's thought. And she was also incredibly surprised by the her use of profanity. Rachel slammed her locker shut and ended up running face first into Quinn's chest.
Quinn could have moved out the way. She really could have. But she figured that it would be a lot more interesting to watch the shorter girl flail to catch her balance then apologize profusely before noticing the physical change Quinn made since the summer.
To her displeasure, Rachel did none of these things. In fact, Rachel didn't seem to recognize her at all.
She watched as the shorter girl looked up at her with wide eyes, stepped around her, and threw a barely audible "sorry" over her shoulder before continuing on her way. Quinn frowned. This wouldn't do. Against better judgment, Quinn called after her.
"Berry!"
Rachel spun on her heels, obviously too distracted by her tardiness to recognize the voice. "Though I am pleased that my talent has increased my popularity so much that a new student recognizes me by name, I am running late and I do have a perfect attendance record to maintain. So if you would excuse me—"
Quinn scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, RuPaul."
"I beg your pardon? RuPaul?" Rachel blinked then moved closer. A look of recognition crossed her features
'Hazel…'
"Quinn?"
The girl in question cocked her eyebrows at Rachel's single thought, but quickly dismissed it.
"You look…different."
Quinn strained to listen for any underlying thoughts from Rachel, but she only heard the strange echo that occurred when someone said the exact same thing that they were thinking out loud. It took several awkward seconds for Quinn to realize that she had been squinting at the girl in concentration, so she cleared her throat and spoke. "You're going to be late."
Rachel nodded, "So will you."
"It's senior year. We pretty much have the right."
"Yes, well, not all of us have the same views. I don't mean to be abrupt, but if you would please excuse me, I must get to my first class. Enjoy the rest of your day, Quinn. See you in Glee?"
And then Rachel was gone.
Quinn blinked as the final bell rung.
'Well…that was anticlimactic.'
It wasn't like she was disappointed by the lack of reaction or anything.
After the brief—albeit a bit strange—conversation with the newly transformed Quinn Fabray, Rachel made it on-time to her homeroom with just three seconds to spare. She was pleasantly surprised to see the curly haired glee club director as her homeroom teacher.
"Welcome back, Rachel." He smiled warmly at her. She returned the gesture. Life Ruiner or not, he was still a very kind man, with the exception of the times when he wasn't.
"Good morning seniors!" Mr. Schuester began with a clap as soon as she settled into her seat. "Welcome to the last first day of your high school years!" The statement was followed by numerous cheers and hoots. Rachel couldn't contain the wide smile on her face.
"But as you know, several events have happened within the past 6 months. Several monumental events."
The class quieted after that statement, fully aware of ASNA and the recent coming-out of American super-naturals. Students glanced at each other suspiciously, unsure of just who was a part of the powered-up population.
"Because of these events, many changes had to be made to the rules and regulations of McKinley High. One of the main changes was the separation of homerooms and physical education courses. As you can see, according to your class schedules, the homeroom you are in—Homeroom dash 'N' —is with normal students. "
Everyone in the classroom seemed to sigh in relief. Rachel was the only one that seemed to frown.
He grabbed the stack of booklets sitting on the desk behind him and began to pass them around. "These are the new student handbooks. Read them carefully."
Rachel stared at the booklet in front of her. 'McKinley High School, Student Handbook: Leading Ohio in the integration of super-natural students.' She rolled her eyes and quickly flipped open to the Rules, Regulations and Super-Natural Guidelinessection. She tuned out Mr. Schuester's lecturing and decided to skim over a few of the bullet points.
'Super -natural students must not use their abilities unless in a controlled environment on campus.
No forms of flight should be used in the hallways. Transportation to and from school is acceptable.
Any form of manipulation, including psychic abilities and telekinesis, will NOT be used on any of the faculty and/or staff members. Any use of such abilities will result in immediate expulsion.
Any harm to another student using super-natural abilities will result in immediate expulsion.'
"Mr. Schuester!" Rachel's hand shot up immediately after the last bullet was read. She didn't trust these rules at all. The very same rules (sans the 'super-natural' part, of course) were ignored by faculty on a daily basis. Never, in all three years at this school, had she ever seen a student expelled for bullying a person such as herself.
"I'll answer questions at the end of class, Rachel."
Rachel glared. She knew perfectly well that was code for, "I really don't care what you have to say."
"Now," Mr. Schuester clapped his hands once more. "Out of the three thousand students at McKinley, only a little less than one hundred and fifty students actually have super natural abilities. If you're curious, you are absolutely free to look up the names and abilities of those students on the American Super Natural Alliance's registration website. It is public information, but some students have chosen to opt out of disclosing their details."
Rachel looked down at her hands. She had no desire to compare herself to people who forced her into a mediocrity-filled depression.
"Remember, just because a few of your peers are a bit different now, doesn't mean that they're not human. They're the same people you've walked the halls with everyday for the past few years."
Rachel suddenly felt her throat tighten.
Her peers weren't just different, they were special. Special in every way that she was lacking.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the period.
"Oh, Rachel!"
The girl turned to her teacher in surprise. She actually didn't expect him to revisit the question she wanted to ask. "Yes, Mr. Schue?"
"Before you leave, I just wanted to let you know that there's a kickoff glee meeting in the choir room during your lunch hour. I have some great news for the group!"
Rachel couldn't help the sigh as she nodded. "Of course. I'll be sure to let the others know as I see them throughout the day."
"Perfect! See you then."
She gathered her things and left as quickly as possible from the suddenly stifling class room.
The first half of the day passed by in a blur.
Between the normal hectic activities that usually occurred on the first day of classes, and the rush of excitement from students suddenly coming forward about their previously hidden abilities, the lunch hour seemed to come in the blink of an eye.
And as usual, Rachel was the first one to enter the choir room, alone. She sat down in the very first row of chairs, and began to gently and methodically unpack her vegan lunch onto her lap.
But she couldn't bring herself to eat it, so she packed it all away again.
She felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach and she was not sure why. Was it fear? Was it the anxiety that her fellow glee clubbers have also manifested and successfully hid their powers over the years? What if she was the only one out of all them that had been left behind? The only exceptions were Finn and Kurt of course. She knew for a fact that they weren't 'supers', due to the amount of time spent with them over the summer before she went on her annual trip to the Berry's Lakeside cabin in Michigan.
She honestly didn't really know the status of her other teammates, besides Santana and Quinn—both of whom were on the local news. After the unforeseeable kissat Nationals last year, she was threatened by most of the members of New Directions to not contact them throughout their summer vacation or else multiple consequences would occur.
She'd rather not repeat the threats. Many of them were quite vulgar.
So she stayed away. It was about time to start separating herself from her high school attachments anyway. She wouldn't be in Lima for much longer, she hoped. At least, she did hope until ASNA came about and destroyed her dreams. But that just meant she had to work that much harder so stand out. Good things came to those who worked hard enough for it, right?
Noah "Puck" Puckerman chose that exact moment to casually stroll into the choir room. His mohawk was freshly cut, his muscles flexed under a form fitting v-neck, and his dark jeans hung a little bit to low on his waist for Rachel's taste, but none of these qualities bothered her. She actually found his bad boy persona to be more attractive then she'd like to admit.
No, it was the fact that Puck stopped directly in front of her, waved over a chair from the other side of the room, twisted it around, and threw his legs on either side of it.
He waggled his eyebrows. "S'up Jew-Berry?"
Rachel pursed her lips together and gave a slight nod in greeting. "Noah. Your vocabulary is still as atrocious as ever, I see."
The mohawked boy shrugged. He obviously didn't care. "Long time no talk, Berry. I thought us Jews were supposed to stick together."
"Yes, well, fellow 'Jews' do not threaten to slaughter animals of the swine variety in front of someone if they attempted to contact you in any form during the summer holiday."
"Shit. Forgot about that. I thought you knew I was joking?"
"Well, I wasn't joking, Munchkin." Santana's voice rang throughout the choir room. "And the threat still stands. If you so much as a begin to dial my number on that bejeweled piece of crap, I will ends you. You hear me?"
Rachel huffed.
"Don't listen to her, Berry." Quinn had entered with Santana. "She's like a twisted fairy. Instead of hand-claps-"
"She needs cutting words and death glares to survive." Puck finished with a smirk. "S'up baby mama?
Quinn greeted him with a nod. "Puckerman."
"Loving the 'punk' look. The nose ring is a major turn on, and if you happen to add a tongue ring to the mix—"
"Puckerman, cut it out." Quinn's voice grew steely. He threw up his hands in surrender, smirk still in place.
Santana scowled at the three of them and stormed her way over to a seat in the very top row. Rachel couldn't help but notice a sharp drop in temperature in the room, but if anyone else noticed, they didn't seem to want to comment on it.
"Anyways, let's see it." Puck turned his attention back to Rachel.
"See what Noah."
"I showed you mine, now show me yours."
"I beg your pardon-"
"Your powers, Berry. Chill out. I'm telekinetic, as you can see." Her motioned down at the chair he was sitting on. "But now that you mention it..."
"You're vile. But to answer you're earlier question, I have never, nor have I recently manifested super abilities. According to the results of my ManPot test, I don't even have the potential to do it. "
Puck scratched the back of his head. "The Man what test?"
Rachel withheld a sigh, but before she could open her mouth to respond, another high-pitched voice answered for her.
"Manifestation Potential for Super-Natural Abilities, ManPot for short. It's a blood test performed in order to see if you have the potential to become a super."
Rachel's head snapped to the entrance of the room. "Kurt!"
The flamboyant boy did a mock bow before walking further into the room, followed by Mercedes, Tina, and Mike.
"No worries, Rachel. I've also tested negative on my ManPot. I'm still as normal as a Broadway bound, teenage gay can be!"
Rachel smiled lightly. "Mercedes, Tina, and Mike? What about you guys?"
Mercedes answered, "I wasn't tested, and I really don't care. If it happens, whatever. If it doesn't, then so be it."
"You should at least know if it could happen, Mercedes." Tina's quiet voice intervened. "I've read that some powers can manifest in dangerous ways if you're not prepared for it. I was read positive for the test, but I was told that it was most likely not going to happen. But you never know, right?"
"Mike? What about yours, man?" Puck nodded to the dancer.
"I uh—" Mike looked a bit shy as he walked towards where the rest of his friends were already seated in the second row. "I manifested 8 months ago. I'm uh—I'm pretty fast."
By the time Mike finished his sentence Finn finally entered the room, pushing Artie ahead of him and Lauren Zizes behind him. "I always wondered how you always beat me in warm up laps, dude."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Man, everyone beats you in warm up laps. Rachel could beat you in laps. You run like an ogre."
Rachel frowned. Why did everyone assume that just because she was a singer, meant that she wasn't physically active? She had spent many rigorous hours a week on her workout regime in preparation for future stardom.
Finn shrugged off the insult with a smile and took a seat next to Rachel.
"Hey, Rach."
"Hey, yourself."
Santana faked a gag from somewhere behind them. "I hope Finnept was worth our loss at Nationals, Hobbit.
"National's is still a sensitive topic, I see. But to answer you, Santana: Yes, It was worth it." Rachel nodded. "I've gained a very good friend."
"Friend?" Quinn's soft voice added. "Friends don't suck each other's face off in front of thousands of people."
Rachel turned to face Quinn, her new look was still something she hasn't gotten used to, despite seeing her stalk throughout the hallways during the day. "Well, we weren't just friends…at first. But we've come to somewhat of an," She looked towards Finn for approval and he answered with a nod of his head, "understanding over the summer."
"Rachel and I aren't together." Finn piped in.
Everyone seemed to be surprised by the information with the exception of Kurt. Being step-brother to Finn had its advantages.
Rachel looked to see Quinn's reaction. Their history together, along with Finn, had always been a shaky one. Her face was surprisingly (or not so surprisingly) void of emotion, but her eyes were squinted in what seemed like concentration as she looked back and forth between the two exes. She recognized it as the same look that she had received earlier this morning.
"Quinn, why do you keep doing that?" Rachel wanted to know.
The girl in question blinked. "Doing what?"
"Sorry I'm late guys!" Mr. Schuester had finally decided to make his appearance
Rachel hardly bit back a growl from the back of her throat at the man that had interrupted her mid-conversation. She turned to face the front of the room. Her dislike for the man had been increasing with every interaction with him throughout the day.
'One day, I will burn every single one of his sweater vests in revenge for his constant tardiness, over-zealous claps of excitement and generally every effort he has ever made in trying to ruin my life.'
Rachel heard a feminine snort from somewhere behind her. She paid it no mind.
"Welcome to the first official New Directions meeting of the year!" He stated with a clap. The Glee club cheered. Rachel rolled her eyes.
"We're running low on time, so I have to get through this quickly."
'Only because you were at least twenty minutes late, Schue.' Rachel internally ranted.
Another, lighter, snort sounded. This time, it seemed that the person was trying to hide it.
"I have some fantastic news! You guys know that finding funding for New Directions has always been one of our biggest obstacles—"
"What, the Cheerio's finally felt sorry enough for us to give up their tanning privileges?" Kurt sniped while side-eyeing Santana. Mercedes laughed.
"Back off, Tinkerbell. And you do not want to start with me today, Aretha."
"Guys, guys! As generous as that might've been, that's not the case. I was approached by a member of ASNA a few weeks ago. He told me that he was a strong supporter of the arts in schools, and was impressed by our drive at Nationals last year. As of today, he has made a commitment to fund us for this year!"
As New Directions cheered and whistled, Rachel narrowed her eyes at the news. She suspected something, but wasn't quite sure. A man didn't just give away money without any strings attached. The man being a part of the American Super-Natural Alliance only strengthened her suspicions.
"Mr. Schue!" Her hand shot up the air.
He gave a small sigh. "Yes, Rachel."
"What 's the catch?"
Mr. Schue looked confused by the question.
"I'm asking what he wants in return for throwing his money at us." She reiterated slowly.
"Rach, maybe you should-" Finn started, but was interrupted by Artie.
"No, Finn. Rachel has a point. People don't just hand out money. What's the price, Mr. Schue?"
There was a murmur of agreement, as Schuester scratched his forehead lightly. "Alright." The club quieted down. "Mr. Daniel Stevens, the name of the person who granted us the funding, he's—well, uh…he's—"
"Just say it Mr. Schue. I think I already know what you're going to say." Rachel voiced lowly.
The curly haired man sighed and ran his hand down his face. "He's interested in super-natural student's involvement in the arts."
Tina looked towards the rest of group, almost sensing the ripple of discomfort that settled in the room. Most of it was coming from the diva sitting front and center. "That's not a big deal, right guys? Sure, the guy is only interested in supers, but we all benefit! No more bake sales,"
"Or carwashes," Mike piped in.
"Or crappy salt-water taffy." Lauren spoke up for the first time since entering the choir room.
"Tina is right guys. Looking at things in a positive light—"
"Mr. Stevens wants you to encourage more prominent roles for the super-naturals in the group. Am I wrong, Mr. Schue?" Rachel interrupted what was sure to be another one of his life lesson lectures.
The teacher went silent. It was an unspoken affirmative.
"So that's it, then? Shove all the normal people in the back while the supers shine?"
"Rachel, that's not-"
"Calm your tits, leprechaun." Santana interrupted. "All it means is that you don't get nearly as many solos. At least then you can use the extra time keep watch over your treasure at the end of the rainbow."
"Santana! That was completely inappropriate—" Mr. Schuester started.
"It's not the fact that I won't get any more solos, Santana, it's the fact that Mr. Schue is being forced to play favorites rather than choose leads based on their raw talent!"
"Say's the girl who's been his number one since day one." Mercedes added.
"If you spent less time bitching and more time singing, you might've been able to actually lead a song or two." Puck surprisingly spoke up in Rachel's defense.
"Oh screw you, Puck!"
Quinn let out a low sound of aggravation. "That was pretty low, Puckerman."
"Alright, enough!" Mr. Schuester silenced the argument before it could get too out of hand.
Rachel shook her head and stood to begin to gather her things.
"Rachel, where are you going?" She didn't answer immediately. She just continued to pile things into her bag while ignoring the silent stares of her teammates.
"I'm leaving."
"This meeting isn't finished yet."
"I don't care." She tossed over her shoulder. And then she was gone.
"Rach?"
Rachel looked up at the sound of her name, and was nearly startled off of the bench by the looming figure of her ex-boyfriend. 'He's a surprisingly light-footed individual for being so large,' she thought amusedly. Gathering back up her nerves she smiled softly at the boy.
"Hello, Finn. I'm sure you've been having an enjoyable first day of classes so far. I didn't really get to ask you earlier."
He returned the smile and sat next to her, making the bench seem much smaller than it was. "Yeah, but," the boy's dopey grin faded into a frown. "It doesn't seem like you're having such a good day. You left so suddenly from glee and everyone thinks you're really mad. Why were you crying?"
Rachel inhaled sharply and tried to discreetly wipe her cheeks from any leftover moisture she might've missed. She was certain her tears had long dried.
"How did you know that I was crying?"
Finn shrugged. "Your eyes are all red, and every time you cry, you get this far away look in your eyes. Almost like you're not here, you know?"
Rachel nodded her head, partially impressed that Finn paid more attention to her than she realized, and partially disappointed that her acting skills were becoming subpar. She shifted her gaze to the light blue flats that adorned her feet.
"I'm not mad, you know." She took a deep breath, "I'm actually quite sad."
Finn looked down at his feet. Rachel was certain that he wasn't quite sure what to say.
"Finn?" She waited until his gaze shifted to her own before she spoke again. "Do you ever—do you ever feel like you're getting left behind?"
Finn furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, not quite sure what the girl was asking. "What do you mean?"
"Darwin!" She blurted before she could stop herself, and continued before Finn's adorable look of concentration morphed into his signature confused look of constipation. "Evolution! Survival of the fittest…"
She sighed.
"Finn, we're normal. Humanity is clearly advancing, and we're stuck, powerless, while everyone else is moving forward."
"I don't think we're stuck, Rach. Don't forget that there's still a lot more us normal people than supers-"
"But we are!" Rachel rapidly stood and began to pace the empty hallway. "Santana, Noah, Mike, Quinn—not to mention most, if not all, of my former tormentors have developed these abilities. Why, after everything that they put me through…why do they get to move ahead and leave me—us behind? It should have been the other way around. This has to be a cosmic joke."
Her voice rose in volume with every word. "I thought I was meant to be great, Finn! I thought I was meant to be different. There has to be a reason why I've had to put up with the torment of my peers; why I've had to deal with every slushie thrown my way; why I've had to brush off the insults from the people whom I call my closest friends." Finn looked down guiltily at that statement. "I just knew I was going to outshine them one day! But now," Rachel paused in her pacing and stared at the linoleum floor beneath her feet. "I-I'm not sure where to go from here." She admitted, before tears welled up into her eyes once more as she collapsed back onto the bench.
"Rachel. D-Don't cry. C'mon…don't." He hesitated before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a friendly hug. "You go exactly wherever you're destined to go." He murmured into her hair. "You're super talented, Rachel. You have the best voice I've ever heard, and you're beautiful, and so smart. If anyone is special enough to make it out of this Podunk town, it's going to be you. I swear."
When her tears finally slowed after a few minutes of quiet sobs, Rachel broke apart from the large boy and finally spoke. "Finn," She took a deep breath. "Thank you. Really. I—I wish things could have worked out better between us but—"
"Rachel," he interrupted, a goofy grin forming on his face. "I'm glad we're friends too."
She smiled lightly and looked down at her twiddling thumbs. "So...you think I'm special? Even without, you know—"
"Super powers." Finn scoffed jokingly. "Who needs them when you've got a voice like yours?"
Rachel giggled and lightly bumped her shoulder against his own—or at least she tried to bump his shoulder. She ended up awkwardly nudging his upper arm instead.
A comfortable silence fell between the two exes before someone a few feet away from them, cleared their throat.
"Rachel." Artie rolled towards her. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but a student aide just came to the choir room looking for you. She left a note." He shifted his glasses and handed Rachel a yellow slip of paper that was resting on his lap. "Principle Figgins wants you to go to his office immediately."
"Did the aide mention why?" Rachel asked.
Artie shook his head, "Only that it was urgent." And with that, the boy spun around and wheeled his way back in the direction of the choir room.
Finn and Rachel shot each other worried glances.
"Ah! Rachel," Principle Figgins motioned for her to come further into the room, but she wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were glued to the rather intimidating looking woman in a business suit standing in the corner of the office.
"Rachel Berry, this is Sandra Meade, a representative from the United States Department of Justice."
Rachel's eyes finally snapped towards the principle, his words finally registering with her.
"Department of Justice? Did I do something wrong? Is it because—no it can't be—I downloaded that one song illegally out of desperation, not convenience! Please understand that the digitized version of an extremely rare classic of great quality is always difficult to find—"
"Ms. Berry," The woman finally spoke. Her voice was low, but deep with authority. "As that may be an entirely different topic to examine with more scrutiny at a later time, we have more important things to discuss." She leveled a gaze at the girl. The only sign that she was amused by the girl's outburst was the almost non-existent quirk of her lips.
"Of course." Rachel shook her head and looked Sandra Meade directly in the eye. "I apologize for my assumption of the worst. It was undoubtedly the result of a guilty conscience.
"Indeed." The woman nodded. She didn't fail to notice that every word Rachel spoke was perfectly enunciated, and the fact that she most certainly did not shy away from eye contact was a pleasant surprise. These were good signs for a prospective candidate.
"Now, if you would excuse us, Principle Figgins, there is classified information that is going to be exchanged and Rachel and I will need to speak alone."
The balding man nodded his head furiously and quickly dismissed himself from the room as Rachel furrowed her eyebrows. There had to be rules against leaving a student alone with an unfamiliar stranger, after all.
"Ms. Berry, allow me to introduce myself again, properly. My name is Dr. Sandra L. Meade, representative of the US Department of Justice: National Security Division," She pointed to the badge clipped onto her blazer, "and the head of a classified trial program."
Rachel nodded her head, silently mulling over the woman's credentials. "What exactly does the Department of Justice want with me?"
"Excellent question."
Rachel raised an impressive eyebrow. It could never rival Quinn's signature arch but the disbelief behind it was still pretty clear. She had spent hours in the bathroom mirror attempting to perfect it, after all.
Dr. Meade took this as a sign to continue. "Rachel Berry, due to your outstanding academic records, extracurricular activities and," The woman paused, "according to medical records, you've tested negative for the Manifestation Potential of Super Natural Abilities, you've been nominated as a candidate for The Program."
Rachel, mid-shift in attempt to straighten out the non-existent wrinkles on her skirt, froze. It was one thing knowing that she had zero potential to become a super, but being told by an authority? Another feeling entirely. It hurt a little too much for her liking.
But then the rest of the woman's words finally registered into her mind with a mental click. "I've been nominated? By whom? I mean—candidate? The Program?" It was very rare that Rachel ever jumbled her words, but she felt it was theatrically important at this point in time. Particularly with the weight of the information she just received.
"Ms. Berry," Dr. Meade moved to seat herself in the chair directly across from Rachel. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to the point that Rachel had to strain her ears just to catch her words. "I believe that I have an offer that I highly doubt you would refuse."