A/N: Thank you for your patience and interest. Here is chapter 2. Enjoy!
Oh and thanks to my beta again- RaWe :)
aaaannndd... go check out my Tumblr ( lumosknoxobliviate . tumblr . com ) where you can ask me stuffs and stuff and stuff.
Ch 2: Impending
Santana woke up to banging on her door and "get up bitch!"
Groaning, she rolled over and felt the seize of a crick in her neck. Her pillow and blankets were on the floor and the mattress- too short for the base- had scooted down the bed so that Santana's head had been angled into the gap it had left.
She had a pounding headache and a dry mouth. And the banging just would not stop.
"Shut up. Shut up," She groaned, groping for her pillow on the floor and flinging it at the door.
A moment later, after more banging, the lock jimmied open by itself and the door rattled sideways- revealing Lauren and Sugar- already dressed in their school uniforms. They both laughed at the sight of her.
"Out." She croaked, waving her hands.
"Na-uh, the breakfast fairy sent us to tell you that there's almost no brown bread left so you better get your ass into the dining room now." Lauren leaned against the door frame and smirked down at her.
"Oh, and," Sugar poked her head in around Lauren. "Seeing as you weren't at breakfast with the rest of us you automatically volunteered yourself to take the new girl into town this afternoon."
"What?" Santana snapped her head up.
"I believe she needs washing powder," Lauren said nonchalantly.
"I hate you," Santana muttered, glaring with her still sleep blurred eyes at Lauren.
"Up," Lauren replied, stepping back and sliding Santana's door closed.
Santana dropped back on her bed and arched her neck around, trying to relieve the stiffness. Patting the mattress above her head, Santana located her phone and switched the screen on, frowning at the little alarm icon that was still in the right hand corner. It was 7.30 and she'd set her alarm for 7…
...p.m.
"Goddamn it," Santana sighed, abandoning the phone back onto her bed and leaning over to bundle her blankets and pillow up off the floor. She clattered open the drawers under her bed where she'd stuffed her clothes the day before and pulled out some sweats and an old zip up hoody. Avoiding the mirror on the outside of her closet door, she merely raked her hands through her hair, notching the hair tie off her wrist and pulling it around to secure a messy bun on the top of her head.
She was halfway down the hallway when Rachel's head popped out of her room with all the vigour of a meerkat. When she took in Santana's appearance her eyes narrowed.
"You're going to miss breakfast," she said.
Santana walked right on past her, calling back, "I'm on my way there now."
"Uh...Santana aren't you forgetting something?"
"Nope!" Santana had to raise her voice because she was already near the end of the hallway.
"Your uniform!" Rachel called back condescendingly. Santana stopped and looked down at herself.
"Christ," she muttered, wheeling around and striding back to her room- looking pointedly away from Rachel.
When Santana pulled open her closet door she thanked Past-Santana profusely for having the presence of mind to put her uniform blouses on hangers and fold her skirts neatly under them. Even her blazer looked fresh and pressed- though she had no recollection of it having seen the outside of her suitcase since the last day of ninth grade. Her mother, she concluded, must have snooped through her suitcases for her uniform.
Santana bumbled her still sleepy limbs into her uniform and then headed down the hallway for the second time. Rachel, she was relieved to note, did not feel the need to stick her head out again.
The dining room was mostly empty by the time Santana arrived. The matron- another new one whom Santana didn't recognise- was on the couch by the door with the breakfast list of names on her lap.
"Santana Lopez?" She snapped, flapping through the list to get to 'L'. "You're the last one. I was just about to come and see…"
"Here now, aren't I?" Santana flipped her a dismissive shrug and headed up to the front table by the kitchen. Lauren had been right- all the brown bread had been taken and Santana refused to eat white. The table was littered with empty bread bags and dirty knives and crumbs and the fruit bowl was empty bar a few oranges and bruised looking apples. Santana took one of the oranges and headed over to the coffee machine.
When she turned away from it, balancing the steaming cup, she flickered her eyes over the tables that still contained people- scanning to see if there were any tenth graders still left there.
Brittany waved to her from a table near the middle. Santana pushed her lips against one another and sighed. At least she had coffee.
"Hi," Brittany said breathlessly when Santana sat down.
Santana nodded at her and took a long sip.
"I have your shampoo. Did you get my text?"
Santana nodded again and then swallowed, letting out a little gasp as the hot liquid coated her dry throat.
"Good. Well I've finished my toast now, so I'll wait for you to finish your coffee and your orange and then you can come and get it."
Santana flicked her eyes up to Brittany.
"Please say that you're not another Rachel Berry in training?"
Brittany's forehead furrowed and her top lip curled up slightly in confusion. "I don't...No," She shook her head. "I don't think you can train to be someone. I'm just...Brittany."
"Yeah? Well," Santana swallowed another sip of coffee, "you're pushy like Berry."
"I- I am? About what? The shampoo? I only thought you'd want it back because your hair's nice so you obviously take good care of it."
"It's just shampoo. No biggie," Santana shrugged. She had to fight the urge to pat her hair down.
"Yeah. My Dad says that things like shampoo are a figment of people's imagination- that capitalism has convinced us that we need useless products like that when really, we don't. Our hair has natural oils to keep it healthy."
Santana blinked up at her. "You don't...You don't use shampoo?" She asked, wrinkling her nose.
The tips of Brittany's ears pinked and it spread like a storm down onto the tops of her cheeks.
"I- I do use shampoo," she stuttered. "It's just what my Dad says but he uses shampoo too, don't worry. My whole family does. Even my cat and my dog."
Santana felt her cheeks lift up in a grin. "It's...it's okay, Britt, I get it. I get it."
Brittany's face lit up. "You're the first person here to call me Britt."
Santana hadn't even noticed. "Oh, I… is that not…"
"No," Brittany shook her head. "I like it. I'm glad you did."
"Alright," Santana said slowly, turning back down to her coffee.
They were silent for a moment and then Brittany asked Santana what people shortened her name to.
"They don't," she said shortly, shrugging.
"Oh," Brittany faltered. "Okay, that's okay. So, you're coming with me to town today right?"
"Well I was told I volunteered so I guess so, yeah."
Brittany's silence made Santana look up. She was drawing her index finger through the breadcrumbs on the plate in front of her, staring down at it hard. Santana felt a twinge of guilt.
"Sorry. I just had a crappy sleep and a rude wake up call. And I'm not a morning person to begin with so…"
Brittany nodded. "That's okay."
"Good," Santana said, still eyeing her warily. "So I'll meet you at the Silver Road gate after school. The- you know where that is right?"
"Uh-huh. But don't we have to…"
"Sign out of the boarding house," Santana finished, shaking her head at her slowness. "Yeah, crap. I keep forgetting these stupid rules. Alright. I'll meet you in the office at 3:30."
The first day of a new year at school was always the same. Pointless. They all spent the morning in home room, and then divided their day amongst their other subjects.
They only got around half an hour in each class and in every single one of them, without fail, there would be name games. There was only one upside to this ordeal- and that was the opportunity to assess who was going to be in your classes. Who you'd sit with and who you'd hate.
So far, Santana had the seating in four out of her seven classes worked out nicely. In English, she had Quinn and Amy and Emma- straightforward enough. In Algebra II she had Mercedes, Becky and Sugar. History was Lauren, Tina and Rachel, and Biology was Lauren, Tina and Quinn. She just had Spanish, Political Science and P.E to go.
P.E was next up on her timetable. Her schedule put her class in the pool room for the first few weeks of rotation.
It was an indoor pool- housed in a large, metallic building that had been built right beside the school's main entrance. Santana walked through the main lobby, dodging around a group of chattering little kids who'd obviously come down from the local elementary school to use Alexandra's outdoor pool.
It took two steps for the simmering heat and smell of chlorine to crest over her. It was clean and damp and Santana had always been oddly fond of the smell of it. But the heat was an entirely different matter. It was like her blazer had shrunken two sizes, clutching at her arms and sides tightly. Beneath it, her blouse was already moulded to her lower back by sweat.
A few of her classmates were already scattered across the blue and white metal picnic benches that ran up one side of the pool- near the changing rooms. Santana recognised a few of them from last year, but no one she was friendly enough to sit with.
She approached a vacant bench and stepped up to sit on the table top, resting her bag between her feet on the bench below. Once she had settled she trained her eyes on the water- which was rippling and slapping gently against the sides of the pool- and looked down to the black lane lines warping at the bottom.
Santana felt like taking a running jump- plunging, plunging and pushing her belly down against the slippery concrete base and then letting the water lift her up again. She knew it wouldn't be as cold as she imagined. And it would make her make-up run. And her class mates would think she was bat-shit crazy. But Santana really, really just wanted to throw herself in- uniform and all- and not give a crap what anyone thought.
The wood of the bench juddered under Santana's feet as it took another person's weight and Santana looked up to see Brittany stepping easily up to sit beside her on the table top.
"Hi."
Brittany's smile was wide and bright and Santana could see her eyes reflecting the wavering water, though she couldn't tell the colors of the two apart. It was slightly disconcerting.
Brittany's hands were clasped around the binder she had sitting on her lap and Santana was able to get a good look at them. The thought occurred to her that this was the first time she'd really taken anything of Brittany in, and she suddenly became conscious of the 'getting to know one another' process. It came with its own kind of anxiety, its own kind of excitement. Your world had to edge a little wider to make room for this new person.
It was an odd thought to have and Santana blamed the heat.
Brittany's fingers were long and thin, stretched out at odd angles- almost like spider legs- to secure her binder in place. The skin on the backs of her hands was crisscrossed with thousands of tiny, tiny lines and the same light smatter of freckles that were on her cheeks were on her knuckles as well. Spaced out like connect the dots.
"Have you had a good day?" Brittany asked.
"I'll be glad when it's over," Santana shrugged. "Have you?"
"Well, I keep getting lost. But I've made friends who have helped me out so it's okay. I'm enjoying it. I like getting to know people and stuff. Everything's so new and interesting."
Santana watched as Brittany drew in a deep breath and craned her head up to the ceiling, looking at the beams and the banners hanging from them that had Alexandra's crest. She was so freaking cheerful, Santana thought. It almost made the backs of her eyes ache- like she was looking directly at the sun.
"Where do you need to go in town today?" She asked.
"Well, I need washing powder, socks," Brittany ticked off on her fingers like she'd done when she'd been counting Santana's bags, "hair ties and cat food. You can get all those at the supermarket, right?"
"Cat food? Why do you need cat food?"
Brittany blinked at her like she was silly for asking. "To send to my cat. He'll think he has a secret admirer."
Santana was slow to laugh, wondering how far Brittany's sarcasm extended until it became craziness.
"Rrrright. Well. I have to meet my boyfriend too so is it alright if I just show you where the supermarket is and then we can meet back up when it's time to walk home?"
Brittany nodded down at her lap. She looked uneasy but Santana, feeling heartless, ignored it and focused on the water again. The heat was becoming overly irritating and the air was too thick and muggy. It was like trying to breathe with your head inside a dryer.
"Alright girls," A woman with small, close together eyes and short, purple/brown hair (Santana guessed that the label on the dye bottle had probably said 'plum') was walking briskly towards them. Santana recognised her as Miss Hawkins, the deputy head of the P.E department.
She swept her eyes over them, counting.
"Twenty two...twenty two…" She dropped her eyes down to her clip board and ran her index finger along it. "There's twenty three on this list and only twenty two of you here. No one has been signed as absent." She frowned and then proceeded to call out their names in a low monotone voice, stabbing her finger against the clipboard when they answered. When she was done she flapped the paper over and sighed at the next sheet.
"Right...you have to...In pairs...yes, with the person beside you. Say your name, your favourite sport and a goal that you hope to achieve in the class by the end of the year."
As though Miss Hawkins had pressed an unmute button, everyone began talking at once- until their laughter and words became on indistinct babble, punctuated by the high pitch flurry of laughter, or a squeal.
Santana stayed still until she saw Brittany's knees pivot to face her. Then she looked up into an encouraging smile.
"You wanna go first? Name, favourite sport and a goal for P.E this year."
"Right. Yeah, er… S-santana Lopez. But… I guess you knew that."
Brittany nodded patiently.
"Favourite sport is...dodge ball, I guess." Shit, she hadn't played sports since before she came to Alexandra Academy. But dodge ball had been her favourite in the P.E rotation last year. Mostly because she shared a class with Rachel and always made sure they were on opposite teams.
"And goal?" Brittany prompted. Santana turned and looked out the windows on the opposite side of the pool. They were reflecting the water so brightly that Santana could hardly see out of them, like the way Brittany's eyes had looked.
"Goal. How about… Try and get at least one sick note a week from the matrons for this stupid class."
Brittany laughed at this, and Santana turned away from the window to watch her. The sound flew from her mouth and then she pressed her lips together. As they quivered against more laughter, Santana noticed the light sheen of pink lip gloss across them.
Santana blinked slowly and then looked away, brushing the damp clinging hair off her forehead and leaning back right back on the bench, propping herself up with her elbows. She was beginning to feel sick from the heat.
"Your turn," she mumbled.
"I'm Brittany Susan Pierce," Brittany struck up brightly, "and my favourite sport is dancing and my goal for this year in P.E is to…" She pointed and Santana had to flop her chin forwards onto her chest to see, "swim the whole length of the pool in one breath."
Santana looked up and down the pool, calculating its length. She was too tired to laugh, but she felt she had to point out the ridiculousness.
"You'd get half way there and your lungs would give out."
Brittany shrugged. "I won't know until I try. It's a goal."
"It's a death wish," Santana corrected.
Miss Hawkins blew her whistle.
"Alright. Now. I hope you were listening to your partner because you're now going to introduce them to the class. And we'll start with…" Miss Hawkins drew her eyes along the benches. They faltered on Brittany and Santana.
"You."
"Me?" Brittany repeated dumbly. The tips of her ears had gone red again.
"This is...this is…" She looked from the rest of the class to Miss Hawkins to Santana and back again like she didn't know who she was supposed to be addressing. She settled for Miss Hawkins.
"This is Santana Lopez. Her favourite sport is dodge ball and her goal for this year is to get at least one sick note a week for this class."
Brittany turned to Santana so quickly that her ponytail swung around and whipped her face. She was smiling in pride at her own memory, completely oblivious to Miss Hawkins staring and the rest of the class simpering in awkward giggles. Santana rolled her eyes and sat up, leaning around Brittany to Miss Hawkins to do damage control.
When the bell rang, Santana bundled up all the course sheets Miss Hawkins had given them and stuffed them roughly inside her bag. Then she shouldered it and got down off the bench, feeling frumpy and gross. The tightness of the blazer was making her upper arms throb.
"Where's your next class?" She asked Brittany as they headed for the doors.
Brittany put her hand in her blazer pocket and pulled out her schedule.
"It's in G2," She read. Then, she lifted her eyes up and said brightly, "By the way, Quinn's in my class Geography class. And Amy. And Emma. But they don't sit by me. They sit with each other and I sit next to a girl called Hester. She has see-through eyebrows and she's Jewish and she plays the violin and she's allergic to spinach. Or wait… maybe she loves spinach." Brittany waved her hand. "I can't remember that part."
"Another name game?" Santana asked, grinning.
Brittany pressed her lips together and flicked her eyes sideways, all coy.
"Maaaybe," she said. And there was laughter in her voice.
Something tugged inside Santana. Like the jerk of a string tied around her insides- somewhere deep behind everything.
When Brittany opened the door and the cold air hit Santana's face, it was like breathing for the first time. Or at least what she thought that would feel like.
Waiting in the boarding house foyer for Brittany to come back from school served as Santana's own personal form of torture. She sat slumped on the couches wondering how on earth she'd made it through the day without disconnecting someone's head from their body- especially seeing as after the P.E session, her blazer had seemed to store all the heat and she still hadn't fully cooled down. She was almost gagging to take it off but she guessed she probably had sweat patches the size of continents.
She'd have to keep Puck three feet away at all times at this rate. And she wasn't even allowed to change into normal clothes because of the stupid frigging boarding house rules which prohibited wearing anything but your uniform in public places. It was like they expected the students' uniforms to have some sort of Jiminy Cricket influence over what they did.
To make matters worse, it seemed that every tenth grader was arriving back from school before Brittany. And every single one of them laughed at the sight of Santana on that couch.
Lauren and Sugar were particularly bad, lingering around and cracking jokes until Santana gave them the fingers, cussed loudly in Spanish and promptly got told off by Miss Cowley who'd heard from behind the front desk. This made Lauren and Sugar slink off, but Santana could hear them giggling right the way up the stairs into their dorm.
When she caught sight of Quinn waiting outside the office for the automatic doors to respond, Santana rolled her eyes and blew a gush of air upwards onto her face. This would be fun.
Quinn got through the doors and approached the front desk with three girls trailing behind her. Santana vaguely recognised them from the Alexandra Academy cheerleading squad that Quinn had joined at the end of last year- much to Liv's disgust.
Santana made sure to never let on that she'd been asked to join too.
From her place behind them on the couches Santana trailed her eyes over the three girls, lingering on the special jackets that they were allowed to wear in place of the school blazers. They were the only team allowed to wear anything other than the uniform, which Santana thought was kind of hilarious because Alexandra didn't even have a football team for them to cheer. And Santana had never heard of them cheering for any team it did have.
At best, the Cheerios, as they were known, cheered on their brother school- Andrews Academy- once in a while. But mostly they just competed in dancing competitions, spending half the school budget in the process.
The jackets were cool, Santana had to admit that. She'd always thought so.
Quinn finished signing the three Cheerios into the guest book and had begun to lead them through the double doors to the dining room- the only place in the boarding house that the students who lived close enough to the school to attend it without boarding, were allowed.
They were halfway across the foyer when Quinn turned her head seemingly unprovoked in Santana's direction. It happened too quickly for Santana to avert her eyes and she was able to watch the slow, smug smile that slung itself onto Quinn's face.
As Quinn changed course and headed for Santana's couch, the three Cheerios fell in behind her obediently and Santana felt like she was caught in the heady beam of headlights. She fought the impulse to roll her eyes. Too often this place reminded her of Mean Girls. Far too often.
"Hi Santana," Quinn said. Every syllable sounded measured. Santana just looked at her.
"I heard about your predicament. Having to play tour guide," Quinn continued after she realized Santana was going to make no response. She let out a laugh- if that was what you could call the empty noise- and then flicked her ponytail.
"It's not a predicament," Santana shrugged. "I was going to town to see Puck anyway. But ah, have fun with your chocolate milk and cookies."
Something flashed in Quinn's gaze- violent, like glass breaking. It was so fleeting that Santana wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been staring her full in the face. By the time Quinn spoke again, the look was gone and her features were steel.
"Where are you going to drop off your extra baggage while you're with him?"
"Oh, phew. I don't know," Santana said in mock concern. Then she brightened her face with an idea. "Hey, I know. Maybe you could come carry it for me? Seeing as it doesn't look like you've got many better things to do?"
Quinn threw her head back- and there, again, was the laughter. But when she dropped it back down, there was no amusement anywhere.
"You know, Santana, you could try and get into the Cheerios again. Olivia is gone. You don't have to be a dumb whore like her any…"
Anger had always been something that Santana struggled with. She had it under control most of the time. At least, she was better than when she was little and had thrown a chair at a boy who'd pulled hers out from underneath her. But there were certain times, certain things, that edged beneath her skin so violently she actually felt physical pain in trying to hold it all back.
She shot up off the couch- and her sudden, violent movement made Quinn's words falter. She stepped back in surprise.
Santana knew she should have cared that the office was filled with people trailing through from school and that Miss Beiste, Miss Pillsbury and Miss Cowley were all stationed behind the desk.
But she didn't.
The only thing she was processing was where and how hard to hit Quinn Fabray.
Santana took two menacing steps forward and then she was touched on the upper arm so lightly that she thought she could have imagined it. She was halfway through ignoring it when a voice spoke too. Just as light.
"Hey, sorry I'm late."
Quinn and the three Cheerios all looked over at the same time and Santana was only half a beat behind them.
Brittany was standing beside her, quite close. She had her bag hugged to the front of her chest. Santana noticed that the tips of her ears were still red. Were they always that way?
"Hi," she said. And with that word all the anger seemed to rush out of her until she was just all hot and constricted in her blazer, deflated like a balloon.
Quinn laughed again.
"Bye Santana," she said faintly, smirking like she'd won.
Until.
"Hey Quinn." Brittany's voice had more strength than Santana had heard it possess before.
Quinn had her back to them, but she stopped and Santana knew she was listening. Brittany didn't seem fazed, she carried on speaking, notching her voice higher so that it carried around the office.
"Just thought I'd give you a heads up that I was asked to join the Cheerios today. And I also got asked to run the next practise and lay down a routine for our next competition so just letting you know that will be this Thursday after school in the gym."
It was Santana's single greatest regret that she could not see Quinn's face. She was sure her expression would have been beautiful enough to rival pyramids and glaziers and grand canyons.
Quinn didn't turn around. She just walked- her posture eerily erect- down the foyer and out the double doors. Her three deserted minions were still staring at Brittany and one of them, a girl with platinum hair and far too much eyeliner, stepped forwards slightly. Her features brightened in recognition.
"You're the girl that Coach stopped me in the hall way to tell me about. She kept going on about how there was a new girl transferring who could dance better than an African witch doctor and who she'd sell her sweat glands all over again to get her on the squad. You're her, right?"
Brittany looked mildly alarmed. "I- I think that's me. Yeah…" She hugged her bag harder against her chest and Santana felt that tug again. The strings tied up in her.
When the Cheerios had headed out into the dining room, whispering with their heads close together, Santana turned to Brittany for the first time since she'd interrupted them.
"Should we go?" Brittany asked.
Santana blinked at her, feeling stranger than ever. She noticed that Brittany had a swipe of paint in the lapel of her blazer and for some reason, it made Santana lose her breath.
The strings were knotting tighter. Tugging more insistently.
Santana dropped her eyes and turned away. She headed for the front desk, pushing roughly through the crowd of ninth graders and snatching up the sign out book and a pen.
She scrawled hers and Brittany's names in the 'out' column and walked out of the boarding house without waiting for Brittany to follow her.
She heard nothing but herself moving for about 20 yards and then the sounds of clattering footsteps and the jingling of zips began gaining on her.
Brittany appeared beside her, puffing.
"You forgot your wallet and your phone," she said, holding them out to Santana. "And your boyfriend called and asked where you were and I said we weren't going to be long but I didn't know where you…"
Brittany stopped talking when Santana took her things out of her hands and lengthened her stride, getting ahead again.
Brittany kept up easily.
How could Santana have forgotten; the legs.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Nothing."
"You're grumpy."
"You don't know me well enough to know when I'm grumpy."
In spite of Santana's assholery, the bright, inquisitive tone of Brittany's voice didn't die.
"Don't you get grumpy the same way as other people?"
Santana huffed a sigh. "Can we just, not talk. For a while?"
Brittany fell quiet and Santana didn't look to see how she'd taken the words.
They didn't speak again until they reached the supermarket. They paused out the front, by the shopping cart bays.
"I'll just be in the mall around the corner," Santana said. "It has a food court on the third level and that's where I'm meeting Puck. You can come find me or just text when you're done. Then I guess we can just go back."
She watched Brittany while she spoke. And Brittany watched her shoes.
"Okay?" Santana prompted.
Brittany nodded at her shoes.
Santana rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, getting away from Brittany before she felt guilty. Before she cared too much.
Puck was glad to see her. And that was the understatement of the year.
He'd squashed her into the very corner of their booth, his head bent so close that Santana could hardly see his features properly.
"Just, like...five minutes...c'mon no one will know."
Santana pulled still further away and frowned at him.
"No, you're right. No one will notice a dude wearing an Andrews' uniform with a Mohawk going into the girls' bathroom. No one at all."
"I want you," he said in reply. And the arm that was snaked around the top of the booth reached down, tugging at her shoulders.
Santana leaned away to take a pull on the straw of her frozen coke. She heard Puck sigh behind her and when she looked she saw he'd slumped back grumpily onto his side of the booth.
"Don't be a baby." She put a hand on his thigh, and edged it up a little higher for good measure. The bored, sullen look on his face didn't flicker and Santana had the beginnings of panic.
"Are you pissed?" She frowned.
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Dunno. Maybe coz I haven't seen you in like…"
"A week," Santana said flatly. Their hometowns were an hour apart and she'd driven there to stay with for the weekend.
"Yeah. So? I just care about you that's all and I wanna...you know… I miss you."
"Miss me?" Santana raised an eyebrow incredulously.
"Yeah," Puck confirmed stubbornly.
"Well I'm here now so you don't have to miss me."
"Yeah but I swear I talk more to the other girls than I do to you. You're so hot and cold babe," he said, leaning in and trying to nuzzle her again. She jerked away again.
"What other girls?" Puck, realizing his mistake, groaned.
"Chill babe. Just the ones at Alexandra. Lauren and Sugar and Mercedes and that. Quinn...You know…"
"Not Quinn," Santana said sharply.
"What's she done?" Puck asked, rolling his eyes.
"She's a bitch."
"Yeah but so are you."
"Yeah I know but she's been a real bitch since we got back. She shoves Liv in my face every five minutes."
Puck wasn't looking at her, but Santana knew that he was thinking about what she'd said.
"She's just…" He sighed and shook his head. "Quinn's still not over it. And I think it's hard for her to trus-"
"Excuse me? Since when were you an expert on her?"
Puck rolled his eyes.
"Come on, you know what I mean…"
"No," Santana said, her pulse beating heavily through her, urging her anger on. She shook her head violently and slid back away from him in the booth. "No I don't know what you mean."
"She's just...ah…" He drew a hand down his face, warping his skin momentarily away from his eyeballs. "She's had it rougher than you think."
"Puck, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Santana, just...jesus christ don't freak out it's just…"
"No. No, you know what," Santana's voice was raised and carrying and she stood up out of the booth, glaring down at him and gathering up her bag. "You can defend her allll you want but I know her too well to buy her crap. And I don't have to sit here and listen to it."
"Santana…"
"Sort your shit out Puckerman and then come find me."
She turned and began to weave through the tables but his retort carried over them, as clear as though she was still in the booth with his breath funnelling into her ear.
"You're not the only one Liv fucked over."
Brittany wasn't in the cat food aisle. And that was the only thing Santana could remember her needing to get. She stood there, staring blurrily at the shelves of pet merchandise, trying to contain the lump in her throat.
And then, for what felt like the millionth time that day, Brittany found her.
"Do you need cat food too?"
"I don't have a cat."
"A dog?"
Santana shook her head and watched Brittany scan the aisle in front of them, looking for more clues as to why Santana would be there.
"A...goldfish?"
"I did, but it died because my little cousin tipped coke into its bowl." Brittany looked horrified. "He thought he was giving it a treat," Santana explained.
"It's not much of a treat if it died," Brittany pouted.
"No, it's not."
They both looked at the cat food for a moment longer, until a lady edged her cart up to them impatiently.
"Do you have everything you need?" Santana asked as they walked to the check out. Brittany consulted the basket she had slung from the crook of her elbow.
"I think so, yep."
"Alright."
They went through the check out in silence. And then Santana followed Brittany out of the supermarket, pausing behind her in the entrance so that Brittany could unzip her school bag and put her groceries inside. Once she'd settled it back on her back they started off again.
They walked down the main road and then cut through a well-worn path that had been made across a plantation of shrubs and small trees. It was the short cut back to the boarding house and lead through a small park.
It was shabby- with no paths or well-kept plants. Just that thick, ropy sort of grass that itched if you sat down on it, a few decrepit old trees whose branches hung low- leering like old men and dropping annoyingly sharp leaves. The wooden fences built around it were high- so that people couldn't see into the neighbouring properties and it made the space feel darker and secluded. The fences were mottled with graffiti- some the professional kind that you could never read, and others were just words- Kevin was here. Your Mom Smells. Let Love In. Scratched in with the hesitant ink of a ball point pen, or more boldly, with a sharpie.
The park had one bench- set back on the edge of the barked perimeter- just in front of the fence. The bench, in Santana's experience, had always been sort of useless- usually damp or covered with bird crap or a homeless person.
But as she and Brittany walked past it, Santana was surprised to see it had been replaced by a new bench- its wood crisp and yellowy.
The unexpectedness of this made Santana pause and look at it. She'd taken for granted that the old one would always be there. That it would remember when she'd forgotten.
But the new one was sort of nice, in a way.
"We could sit down?" Brittany said Santana's thoughts out loud.
"Okay."
They sat down at the same time and Santana lifted her eyes to the branches above them. She could hear the birds calling- light, intricate sounds that could have been laughter. Or mockery. It would be the last straw if one of them crapped on her.
Brittany was making patterns in the dirt with the very tip of her shoe. Santana noticed her calf muscle- curving out of her leg like a sand dune- twitching as she arced her foot around to give the face she'd drawn a smile.
"How long have you danced?" Santana asked, reminded of Brittany's induction into the Cheerios.
Brittany shrugged. "Since I could walk. I used to waggle everywhere like I had ants in my diapers. That's what Mom says and I know it's true too because they have videos of me chasing our old dog MacGyver and wagging my butt faster than I actually walked."
Santana laughed. "That's cute."
"I also used to run away from bath time and tip my toy basket out and sit naked on my rocking horse with it over my head singing nursery rhymes. But…" Brittany paused. And there those red ears were again. "I just realized that doesn't have much to do with dancing."
Santana was laughing harder. "More with performance in general."
"That's true," Brittany said. And Santana watched her smile at the thought.
They lapsed into silence again, and Santana finally gave up against the heat and the tightness and the irritation. She sat up and tugged roughly at one arm of her blazer- pulling it off as fast as she could.
It was as if she'd shed gravity. She could now feel the breeze- and it swelled up her arms and chest and back- making the places she'd sweated turn cold.
She closed her eyes in relief and tipped her head until it was resting on the back of the bench.
"I don't know why you didn't do that sooner," she heard Brittany say in an amused voice.
"Me neither."
When she opened her eyes up again Brittany was leaning over on the bench, peering at her. Her face was so close that Santana was surprised to see that the freckles she'd once thought were lightly scattered across her cheeks were actually just the ones that stood out. Beneath them was a much fainter, but much more abundant layer- ones that you wouldn't be able to notice unless you got as close as Santana was now.
Santana held her breath and frowned up at Brittany.
"What are you doing?"
"Seeing if you were sleeping," Brittany said, pulling back away slightly but not shifting her gaze from Santana. "You look kind of sad and I thought maybe you were having a bad dream."
Santana shook her head, only managing a soft voice.
"Not a dream."
"Did you have a bad time with your boyfriend today?" Brittany's voice was just as soft, "is that why I found you in the cat food aisle?"
"I was in the cat food aisle looking for you. But, yeah. It was a little bit crap."
"How come?"
Santana turned her eyes towards the grass and the trees and the sunlight. She'd seen this view a million times. It reeked with memories. But it was a new bench. And a new girl with a bright smile. And Santana thought it could be easier to forget.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh." Brittany dropped her eyes to the ground, disheartened. "Was I being Rachel Berry again?"
"No," Santana grinned. "No, I just don't want to talk about it because sitting here like this feels okay. It feels good and I don't want to think about anything that might ruin it."
She turned her eyes to Brittany. "Is that okay?"
Brittany gave her a small smile. "Yeah. That's okay."
"Good."
Santana closed her eyes and tipped her head back on the bench. They had somehow shifted closer together and Santana could feel the warmth of Brittany shimmering all up her right side. Without the blazer on though, the heat was pleasant and comforting.
She could, Santana thought, just drop off to sleep.
But then the bench juddered with movement and Santana cracked her eyes open. Brittany was leaning across the bench again, but this time her head was angled downwards to see through the trees and her eye brows were up.
Santana turned to follow her line of sight.
"What is it?"
"Is that a convenience store?" Brittany pointed through the trees and across the road.
"Uh-huh," Santana said through a yawn.
"Do you want an ice cream?" Brittany's face was bright again.
"No, I'm alright."
"Okay, well I'm going to get one so if you change your mind you can just share mine."
Santana nodded and watched Brittany get up off the bench. She followed her progress through the park for a bit and then dropped her head back against the wood. Her eyelids were heavy and haziness started to swell.
"San! San!"
"Hmm?"
Brittany was standing by the line of trees, her hands cupped around her mouth.
"You can use my bag as a pillow if you want!"
Santana waved her hand to acknowledge that she'd heard. And then, just as she'd resumed her dozing posture, another shout came. One of pure excitement.
"Hey! San. I think I've just found you a nickname!"
Santana laughed and waved her hand once again. Then, when Brittany had disappeared through the trees she tipped her head back and grinned skyward.
