Oh my gosh, so sorry for the wait! We kind of got sidetracked by another fic, and then I went overseas (screw hotels with no free wi-fi D:), and Carmen kept procrastinating (so did I, heh) so this update was supposed to be longer... I THINK it is... Oh, and this chapter was almost entirely written on Carmen's iPad and my iTouch XD We love Apple, don't we, Carmen? -nudges- Haha sorry, inside joke. Carmen wrote most of the Rachel bits and I wrote the Mike bits, because she's so much like Rachel, it's scary, so it's easier for her. Me, Mike's easier to write. Okay, now I'm rambling. Sorry again for the wait!
Disclaimer: We don't own Glee! Someone else does. I forgot who.
Mike Chang was confused. Like, Brittany kind of confused. He didn't understand why the mixed up personality that was called Rachel Berry was blowing hot and cold on him – first, being so cruel towards him, then totally fake-smiling at him and being fake-nice to him. He wasn't that stupid, you know, not to detect all the pretence that Rachel practically radiated with her every move. In fact, he was in all AP classes, but he didn't dare to tell Rachel that. Why, it was bad enough after she discovered that he had transferred into her advanced Spanish class in Junior Year. (He had seen her in the library, huffily switching the computer off after doing research on him on the school website. What was she anyway, a stalker?) It satisfied Mike to stay unnoticed at the back of Rachel's classes, quietly doing his own work and pretending to be dumb, just like other football players.
Except other football players really were dumb, with the exception of Matt, of course. Matt Rutherford had been Mike's best friend since they were ten, when he moved from Costa Rica to Lima, and now that Matt had transferred because of his dad getting some job in Chicago or something, Mike felt sort of lonely. This was why he had started sticking with Tina recently, not really because she was his girlfriend. Tina was a nice girl, really, but she was a little... possessive at times. God, he missed Costa Rica.
Mike looked disgustedly at some bunch of skater kids lingering around his house. "妈妈，我回家了！" (1) He hollered to his mum in Chinese, opening the door to his house. It wasn't really a home anyway, just a house, ever since his dad accepted some job here in Lima to research antelopes or moose or some other shit. Back in Costa Rica, the Chang family had had a nice house, glass windows, friendly neighbours and all, and of course, music. In Costa Rica, it was okay to sing and dance. In fact, all the popular kids got popular by singing and dancing, not kicking their legs up and wearing short short skirts in the 'sport' that was called cheerleading or throwing a ball around in rugby either. Apparently, it was not okay in Lima to sing and dance. It was either you were a popular jock/cheerleader, or you were an enthusiastic loser like Rachel Berry (Not that she was enthusiastic about being a loser, of course, but you get what he meant.)
He didn't exactly think that Rachel was a loser, but the other football players seemed to. Her overenthusiastic and diva personality was extremely confusing to Mike, and it wasn't often that he couldn't figure something out. The last time he scored higher than Rachel on a Chemistry test (he'd heard her whispering to Mercedes about her 'amazing' mark), he thought he was doomed. Like, fall-off-a-cliff-into-a-bottomless-pit kind of doomed. He heard about how terrifying Rachel's wrath was if you were even a tiny bit better than her, and didn't really want to die. It was a relief to Mike when the bell rang before the Chemistry teacher could announce the highest scores, and everyone dashed out of the classroom, including Rachel, to do god-knows-what. "佳明，你的午餐在桌上！＂(2) He faintly heard his mother call from somewhere upstairs. Why did she always have to speak Chinese? Even worse, his Chinese name sucked. Jia Ming? Seriously? It apparently meant 'intelligent' or something. Just great. Mike flopped down on the couch, digging into the char siew and ha gao left there by his mother for lunch, pushing away his thoughts. Never mind Rachel or Chinese, food first!
Rachel looked at the piece of paper in her left hand, then at her cell phone in her right hand. She then switched them around. Would it seem inappropriate to call Mike? She wanted to call him to confirm the date, like a true professional always did, but was Mike worthy of her unwavering professionalism? She put down the number (and the phone), then picked the phone back up and decided to call Finn instead, on second thoughts. She always had his number on speed dial, just in case (of what, she didn't know) and she smiled as she heard his hello, in a very Terri Schuester way.
"Oh, hi, Rachel. Sorry, but I'm busy working on my Glee assignment with Merce."
"Merce?" asked Rachel, completely befuddled and feeling as stupid as Kurt walking around butt naked in the girls' bathroom. "You mean Mercedes." She felt immensely pleased with herself for being able to decipher Finn's crazy 'Jock Talk', which usually consisted of grunting noises or incoherent phrases strung together in an attempt to sound complete.
"Yeah, whatever, Rach…Listen, Merce and I need uninterrupted practice, 'cause I kinda suck at this, and she's got an awesome voice, so, I'll call you back or something…" Finn said vaguely before hanging up. Rachel sat on her bed, phone still in hand, feeling a little abandoned. Finn, like everyone else in that wormhole also known as William McKinley High, spoke with so many strange noises that it would sound horrible if he were on a professional voice recording for a play or something. The fact that her boyfriend had just shunned her in favour of Mercedes hurt even more, what was she, a disposable girlfriend?
The next day, Rachel Berry entered William McKinley High with new energy. She was refreshed from a good night's sleep, accompanied with the best Broadway hits played softly on the radio, and she was feeling like Quinn after the birth – perfect – and it showed in her skin (or so she thought, but Rachel Berry always had great confidence in her skin, which she was convinced was good enough to be on television or the big screen).
Finn was, again, nowhere to be seen (déjà vu!) and Brittany was separated from Santana (not so déjà vu). The former appeared to be quite lost and was wearing a large red wig. "Excuse me, Brittany, but that wig looks terrible on you." Brittany looked up at Rachel mournfully. "Oh, me and San broke up. I bought a wig and called it Santana." Rachel did not know whether to be surprised that Brittany could actually keep a clear stream of thought and have the sufficient vocabulary to buy a wig and name it Santana, or that Brittany and Santana had broken up. They were in love! However much Rachel was not a fan of the whole bisexual thing (even though her dads were gay), which made her a little homophobic (being a snob and all), she wondered if Finn and her would last. Santana and Brittany were so permanent that their make-out sessions had become a trademark of William McKinley scenery. It was like the Eiffel Tower or something – unmistakable.
Well, not really. Rachel spotted Mercedes walking with Kurt (Thank God it wasn't Finn.) and waved at them. They seemed to ignore her, which was strange, since they were fellow social outcasts. Santana glared at Rachel as she walked past and half-heartedly threw a milk carton at her. However, her aim was so bad for once that Rachel was able to dodge it easily and the milk sprayed onto Brittany instead. Santana didn't seem to mind, however, so Rachel just smiled and felt lucky. She was worried that the new trend was 'Mushies' (milk slushies), but at least they were so difficult to aim that she would be hit less.
"Mike!" she greeted brightly when she saw the Asian football player slouching by the main door, backpack in hand. He was wearing his usual checkered shirt. Of course, he was also wearing slacks (Rachel cringed to imagine Mike walking around pant-less) but the clearly copied checkered style caught Rachel's attention. "Look! We match!" Rachel was also wearing a checkered skirt. "Now, if you wear my skirt, then you'll be all checkered!" Mike stared at her weirdly, seeing as she seemed to be very excited over the prospect of Mike walking around in a preppy skirt that was probably too small for him anyway. Mike felt so curious about this that he decided to look at Rachel's skirt to check whether he'd actually be able to fit into it just as Tina came walking by. Uh oh.
"Uh, Mike?" asked Tina. "Why are you staring at Rachel's ass?"
"What?" asked Mike, shocked. "I'm not staring at Rachel's butt! I'm just staring at the skirt-This is not what it looks like- I was just curious as to whether…uh…" He wondered if he should admit that he was trying to see if her skirt fit him. His hesitation and admittance that he had indeed been staring at Rachel's lower half was met with extreme disgust and anger by Tina. "You shouldn't even be staring at Rachel!"
"Excuse me," said Rachel, who had become completely nauseous at this conversation regarding her butt. "As a future Broadway star, it is expected that many people will be staring at my butt, as I will be the most famous singer that ever lived. However, I assure you, Tina, that Mike was not staring at my butt. Can I go now? Because there's milk on the floor here and I might slip and injure myself, then I won't be able to do my ballet recital next week, which is essential for my portfolio to get into Julliard." Tina looked extremely pissed at the weird, unexpected turn of events. She scowled at Rachel and then launched into a furious tirade at Mike about how he kept staring at other girls in a Puck-like way.
Extremely unnerved, Rachel meandered off into her first class, which was English. English was really boring as Finn wasn't in it (he was in a different class) and Santana was sitting right behind her. Why did Santana always end up sitting somewhere behind her? Santana seemed to be trying to get everyone to ignore Brittany or throw Mushies at her, which Rachel refused to take part in. As a future celebrity, she had to learn how to support rightful causes and speak out against wrong causes, like, well, Jock Talk. To her horror, the strange nerd that usually sat beside her had suffered a mental breakdown and escaped into a psychiatric hospital (or so rumours said), and so the feared school reporter, Jacob Ben Israel slid into the seat beside her.
"Can you sit somewhere else?" asked Rachel hopefully.
"Can I have another pair of underwear?" asked Jacob, his mass of hair puffing up like that ash cloud over Europe that kept getting larger the other time.
"Definitely not," replied Rachel, preparing herself to endure the hideous blogger for the rest of the lesson. She was excellent at English, no doubt due to the number of brilliant Broadway plays she had read from age three, while everyone was still smashing their heads into their cereal and sleeping and reading Captain Underpants. She had also read the biography of almost every single Broadway legend. She only read those of the female legends, though, because they were the true stars.
She heard a weird noise and turned to see Jacob writing 'Rachel Berry's Panties' on his worksheet where he was supposed to write his name. "Erase that now!" Rachel felt horrified at the atrocity that Jacob was scribbling on the blank.
"I write it on every worksheet!" he replied adoringly, kissing the word 'Panties' and caressing the name.
Rachel felt like dying. Suicidal thoughts were unhealthy, but it was nearly impossible not to be suicidal if you were sitting next to the likes of Jacob Ben Israel. She pitied his parents (whoever they were) but at the same time, felt a sense of loathing towards them for bringing such a pest into the wonderful Broadway-filled world of Rachel Berry. She liked to refer to herself in the third person sometimes, seeing as that was what Julius Caesar did, and he was the best dramatic stab victim of all time. Rachel Berry sighed, and then resigned herself to sitting next to Jew-fro, as the jocks and cheerleaders called Jacob. For God's sake, she would even rather have Mike Chang sitting next to her, Broadway career harmer and all, because then she could nitpick at his horrible English (or so Rachel hoped) and that would throw him off and knock him down a few notches. Thankfully, she would be able to do so soon, today afternoon in fact, at vocal lessons! Rachel realised with a start. She could show that Mike Chang who the real star was, and get him, the tiny blip marring her career, out of her life once and for all. Yes, that was what she was going to do, and nothing would get in her way. Nothing.
After school ended, Rachel bounded back home. Her house was beautiful, of course, with stained glass windows and a pretty front porch adorned with her favourite flowers. Her dads were quite rich, and could afford a house like this. She shuddered to think about what kind of hellholes her classmates as fellow Glee clubbers lived in. Thank god Mike was coming to her house, and not the other way round! As usual, she was alone at home. Her dads had gone on a business trip to San Francisco, and wouldn't be back till the week after. The whole house was hers.
After getting herself a bottle of isotonic water to refresh herself, Rachel Berry sat down on her baby pink sofa dotted with cute little gold stars, mentally planning the session with Mike later. Mike would definitely arrive thinking that they would spend the afternoon singing and stuff, but she was instead going to come down hard on the aspect all football players lacked in: the academic aspect. Of course, Rachel was already impeccable in the academic area, but Mike wasn't...or so she assumed. The whole Spanish thing was just a fluke, right? Right? Yes. However, this would mean she would have to call Mike, something that she had previously avoided doing. Desperate times called or desperate measures, though! Think of fame... Broadway... becoming a star... Rachel motivated herself as she picked up the phone.
Moments later, Rachel hung up, satisfied with herself. Mike had picked up the phone, slightly dazed but clearly... uh, clear-headed enough to agree to her request. In five minutes, Mike was going to arrive at her doorstep with a stack of tests, or not. After all, football players were messy, and Rachel could not be sure that Mike could manage to find all the papers. Rachel herself kept all her tests in a large binder, ready for submission to Julliard as her flawless portfolio that would cause the admission staff to gasp in excitement at her application and accept her immediately. Well, her dream was a little far-fetched, but after all, nothing was impossible! Now, all she had to do was wait. And hope... for the worst.
Mike put the phone down with a sigh. Bring all his tests? Seriously? Was Rachel joking? Nonetheless, he trudged over to his desk, muttering as many profanities as he could remember under his breath in as many languages as he could. Giving yet another sigh, he pulled out his file marked 'TESTS' in his mother's clear handwriting and shoved it under his arm. Luckily, his neat freak mother had filed all his tests away... Mike shook his head. He sounded like a mummy's boy! Really, he needed to start filing his own tests. He pulled out his phone to see two new texts waiting for him just before he left. 'Text from: Tina Cohen-Chang. Text from: Rachel Berry.' his phone screen read. He opened the one from Rachel first, feeling a little guilty. An address flashed up in front of him. So, Rachel had texted him her address. He knew exactly where her house was (just two blocks away) and exited the message, pushing the phone into his pocket. Mike headed out of his house, tests in hand, having completely forgotten about Tina's text. Looks like someone is going to be in trouble here!
"Why, hello, Michael! Please, come in!" Rachel opened the door with her cheeriest grin to see Mike standing there looking rather awkward. He nodded wordlessly, walking into the house. Rachel shut the door, notching that he had a file under his arm that looked a little like her own. Wait, an organized football player? She let her shock show for a second, then composed herself. Now, she was going to lead Mike to the living room, and she was going to open that file and nitpick at the horrible results. Yes, she felt alot better now.
"So, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to look through your academic results, and then I will determine whether you are good enough, academically wise, to take on the well-balanced Rachel Berry's vocal lessons!" Rachel felt extremely proud of herself, for doing two things: one, managing to compliment herself and two, referring to herself in third person, just like Julius Caesar! She beamed at a dazed looking Mike (really, he was going to become a second Finn or Brittany if he kept being confused all the time!), who simply handed over the blue file by his side on the sofa. Rachel noted that the brand was even the same as her own, why, the only difference was the colour! Was Mike a copier, or did he just think like her? First checkered clothing, now files? Rachel grabbed the file and placed it on her lap. Mike shoved his hands into his pockets, now looking rather out of place. He then settled on staring at the weird painting near the dining room. It was a mixture of blue, red, yellow and green hues, and below it a label read 'Rachel: The Star'. Was that supposed to be Rachel? He squinted at the painting, then at the real person, trying to see the similarity. There were none that he could find, though.
Rachel opened the file. First test: Biology, A+. Literature, A. French, A. Chemistry, A+.Rachel felt like rubbing her eyes to make sure there was nothing wrong with her eyesight. These results were almost identical to her own! She continued flipping. Spanish, A+. English, A+. Mathematics, B+. She managed to crack a small smile at the last grade. She remembered that she had scored an A on that one, a whole two grades higher! Her smile faded as she turned to the last Chemistry test. She recalled whispering to Mercedes about how she was the highest in class with an A- (everyone else seemed to have gotten Cs and lower), and now this football player, a football player, managed an A+? Impossible! (Which sort of contradicted her last statement about how nothing was impossible, but she tried not the think about that.) Rachel could practically feel smoke pouring out of her ears as she fumed. She snapped the file shut loudly.
"Why don't we start on vocal lessons now?" Rachel gritted her teeth as she restrained herself from something - whether it was bursting into tears or screaming at the top of her voice, she did not know. And also, could not tell. Maybe it was both.
"Uhm, okay...?" Mike was extremely befuddled (as he often was around Rachel) as to why she had suddenly turned from nice and friendly to angry and fuming. Were his results not good enough or something? Or -even worse- were they better than hers? He shivered as the last thought crossed his mind. He didn't want to die!
Abrupt ending, we know. And here are the translations!
(1) 妈妈，我回家了！- Mum, I'm home!
(2) 佳明，你的午餐在桌上！- Jia Ming, your lunch is on the table!
I find it so fun to incorporate Chinese into the story XD Or maybe I'm just weird. Oh well. Chapter 5 coming up... soon, we hope!