Chapter 7: The Testing Pt. 1


The second official Glee club meeting was let out early this Friday. It was of no surprise to Quinn, since their beloved captain decided to ditch out. And the club had to face the fact that nothing ever got done when Rachel Berry wasn't around. Even Schuester admitted defeat with a dejected sigh. It looked like even he needed Rachel's motivation in order to stomach the after-school activity on a Friday afternoon.

But the members of New Directions were curious.

Curious about Rachel's behavior for the last week; Deep in thought, less intense. Quieter.

Curious about her mysterious calls to the office; not once, but twice.

And most certainly curious about her absence from glee club. She would have normally been halfway down their throats about Sectionals already, even though it was only the beginning of the semester. So her quiet disappearance left the members of New Directions somehow unfulfilled. Quinn knew that she could work this curiosity to her advantage. The need to find out what Rachel was hiding had been increasing on a daily basis.

Luckily, Kurt beat her to the punch. "I think we should check up on Rachel." His hand was on his chin, seemingly in deep thought. Quinn could not hide her pleased grin. "Rachel wouldn't miss glee unless it was something catastrophic." He finished while running a pinky over his eyebrow. The other members of the glee club hummed in agreement.

"She did storm out in a rage during our kick-off meeting. Maybe she decided to quit?" Quinn, being the devil's advocate, mentioned in false aloofness. "And she did mention something about going out of town this weekend. She was really sketchy on the details."

Santana gave Quinn a curious glance. Quinn knew Santana long enough to recognize the signs of her sniffing out an upcoming scheme.

"She hasn't really talked to me in days." Finn muttered.

"She has been a bit quiet lately." Tina added.

"Are we sure that she's not transferring?" Mike continued worriedly. "Quinn?"

Quinn already relayed her conversation with Rachel in the library to New Directions at the beginning of glee, omitting a few details, of course. "That's what she claims..." Quinn trailed off. Rachel, of course, confirmed that she was not transferring in the library, but Quinn needed the glee club to question Rachel's motives.

"Recon mission!" Puck blurted from the back of the choir room. His girlfriend—Quinn assumed the status—Lauren was nowhere in sight. Quinn would have to ask him about that later. "Instead of just sitting here guessing, we should just bum-rush Jew-Berry at her house. She would never see it coming."

Quinn smirked and thanked the higher entity that Puck was such a hyper-active tool.

"Dude, we can't just—" Finn started, but was instantly cut off by a chalk board eraser that mysteriously flew across the room and hit him square in the nose.

"Yes we can." Puck said with a smirk. "Stop being such a wimp."

"But what if she isn't—"

"Why the hell do we care, again?" Santana interrupted. Everyone ignored her.

"I agree with Puck," Mercedes added thoughtfully. "All we've been doing is speculating."

"None of us have been very proactive." Artie added, adjusting his glasses.

Quinn's mischievous smirk widened, officially proud of herself for staking their curiosity even further. She was a genius.

Santana raised an eyebrow at Quinn's rather triumphant expression. 'What the hell are you up to, Fabray?'

"We can take my car." Mercedes rose to begin gathering her things. "I drove my dad's SUV today."

Puck leaped up in order to give her an obnoxious fist-bump. "Nice. Mercedes has the balls to do this," Mercedes frowned Puck's crude compliment. "Now who else is in?"

Artie shyly raised his hand. "I, unfortunately, have a WoW raid scheduled at 4:00pm. But you guys will update me, right?"

"World of Warcraft?" Santana raised an eyebrow. "Really, Wheels? Lame."

"I think the fact that you know what he's talking about make you the 'lame' one, Santana." Quinn murmured.

Even as her lips lifted in a silent snarl, Santana shrugged in nonchalance. "Pop culture references are necessary for proper insults. That makes me pretty damn amazing if you ask me."

"I can't." Mike said with a shrug of his shoulders, either not hearing or ignoring the conversation between Quinn and Santana. Tina, Quinn noticed, had an unreadable expression on her face, but she also couldn't pick up any thoughts on her behalf either. "College Prep."

Puck nodded. "Anyone else?"

Everyone else shook their head in the negative.

"Then what the hell are we waiting here for?"


"Everything is packed and ready to go?"

Rachel forcefully zipped up her large duffel bag and hefted it from her bed onto the floor with a large thud. "Yes daddy."

"And you're gas tank is full? Did Sam check the oil and tire pressure for you?"

Rachel moved to her bedroom window to peer through her curtains. Sure enough, Sam was halfway under the car hood fiddling with mechanics that Rachel had never bothered to figure out. "Yes dad. He's doing it now."

"Do you have your credit card in case of emergency?"

"Of course, daddy."

"Did you see the cash that we left on the counter?"

"It's already tucked safely into my—"

"Have you eaten yet, honey? I know sometimes you forget to eat."

"Daddy, I'm not a child—"

"You make sure to contact us the minute you get to that facility, young lady."

"This is getting ridiculous—"

"We promise to get there as soon as we—"

"Hiram and Leroy Berry," Rachel blurted in exasperation and turned to fully face her laptop screen. She halted her parents, who were pressed as tightly together as possible to fit within the view of their webcam, mid-interrogation. "I understand your anxiety, but I will be fine. This isn't my first time driving somewhere by myself."

Hiram adjusted his glasses."But it's a two hour drive, sweetie. Are you sure you don't want Sam to go along to—"

"Daddy," She slammed her palms on either side of her keyboard, half panicked and half annoyed. "No! You know why Sam can't go. We've discussed that no one can—" Rachel paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in order to calm herself down.

"Dad, Daddy…" She started in a much gentler tone. "You told me that you'd let me take on more responsibility. You said that you would start treating me like an adult."

"And we meant that, Rachel." Hiram peered into the camera. "But you're still our baby girl. Our daughter. You can't just expect us to just, turn off our worry warts."

Rachel sighed and seated herself in her desk chair in order to get a better look at her fathers. "I'll be fine, I promise. I assure you that tomorrow morning, when I pick you up from Columbus International, you'll wonder why you were ever worried in the first place."

Leroy snorted loudly. "I should have rescheduled that conference. I shouldn't have left my daughter to do this by herself—"

"It couldn't be helped dad. You know that, Daddy knows that, and I know that."

And Rachel was absolutely right. Hiram had a business meeting in New York and Leroy had to speak at a conference in Chicago. Her parents almost never overlap their travel schedules, but when it actually does happen, they worry incessantly over their daughter. It was decided that when Hiram was done with his meeting, he would meet Leroy in Chicago, then together they would fly into Columbus Saturday morning just in time for Parent's Orientation and would drive home with Rachel after her weekend-long testing, Sunday. Rachel thought that things worked out perfectly.

Her Daddies apparently thought otherwise.

"I just can't help this feeling in my gut that—" Hiram started.

Rachel queued a highly uncharacteristic eye-roll, and then proceeded to tune out whatever her daddy was saying. They had been discussing this on and off all week, and the same hesitancies and arguments had been repeated over and over.

"I just don't trust the intentions of this program." They would always say. "The minute anything goes haywire, we're pulling you from it. Contracts be damned." It had all become rather irritating.

She sighed and glanced down to her watch. It was already 3:30pm. She stood abruptly from her chair, effectively cutting off her daddy from his lecture.

"Dad, daddy, I have to leave now or else I'll be late. I'll text you! Love you!" She said in haste. And when her parents scrambled to get in some last minute interrogation questions, Rachel slammed her laptop shut. She would most definitely be hearing about that in the morning.


Hiram and Leroy Berry stared, slack jawed, at the now black screen of their laptop from their hotel room.

"Did she just—" Leroy looked at his husband.

"She didn't—" Hiram stared right back.

They both narrowed their eyes.

"To get us through the night, Leroy, let's just pretend that the internet connection went dead."


They had been sitting in the car for just a few minutes, but the members of New Directions were just about ready to kill each other.

"Dude! Stop elbowing me!"

"It's not my fault you're the size of a mini skyscraper, Hudson—"

"If you don't stop breathing down my neck, Origami, I'll—"

"First of all I'm of Chinese descent. Origami is clearly Japanese and second, It's not my fault Mercedes is too cheap to turn on the air conditioning, Santana—"

"I told you, I can't waste gas just 'cause you guys don't know how to roll down a window—"

"And have the wind mess up my hair? I don't think so. You're a walking air conditioner, Santana. Why don't you just—"

"I'm tired as hell, Lady Hummel. Morning Cheerios practice was a bitch."

The only person that seemed thoroughly uninterested in her surroundings was Quinn, who was peering steadily outside the window from the front passenger's seat. Her gaze was fixed further down the street at what she remembered to be Rachel Berry's home and noticed a male figure tinkering within the hood of the girl's car. One of Rachel's fathers, maybe?

"Mercedes," Quinn interrupted Mercedes mid-rant of rising gas prices. "Pull up a little closer, it's hard to see."

Mercedes nodded her head rolled the car forward. Quinn phone buzzed in her lap.

Santana Lopez (3:21pm): What the hell's got you so nosy all of a sudden?

Quinn only responded by shooting a quick glare towards the back of the SUV. Her phone buzzed once again. She withheld a groan of annoyance.

Santana Lopez (3:21pm): You're planning something.

It wasn't a question, But Quinn rolled her eyes at the suggestion anyway. She really wasn't planning anything. Just—observing.

Santana Lopez (3:21pm): I told you that you were obsessed with Berry.

Quinn's hand tightened almost painfully around her phone and turned around to shoot Santana a more meaningful glare. Santana's only response was a smug smirk and finished with a rather loud thought.

'That got your attention, didn't it.'

Quinn grinded her teeth so hard that she felt as though she cracked a tooth. She began to type furiously on the virtual keyboard of her phone.

'I….am….not….obsessed….with—'

"Hey, isn't that the new kid?" The sound of Puck's voice caused Quinn to look up from her phone sharply, her gaze instantly zeroing in on Rachel's driveway.

"Yeah it is! He knocked Hudson on his ass at practice yesterday." Puck looked at Finn with a smirk. Finn just scowled.

"Ugh," Kurt scoffed. "His dye job is just plain awful." Mercedes nodded her head eagerly in agreement.

Quinn watched with steely eyes, as the boy in the driveway rose from with the hood of Rachel's car and mopped his face with a greasy handkerchief. His features confirmed it.

Sam Evans was currently—currently in Rachel's driveway? Rachel Berry's driveway. Quinn wrinkled her brows in confusion.

"He plays football, doesn't he? He's kind of hot." Santana contributed. Though Quinn resisted the urge to blatantly point out that Santana would find him a lot more attractive if he was a she named Samantha. But she wasn't that cruel. Though she was admittedly distracted by the whirlwind of questions going through her mind at the moment.

Sam and Rachel.

Sam and Rachel?

Together.

Together?

Rachel came bouncing out of her home with a duffle bag almost larger than the girl herself, a grin on her face, reflecting Sam's contented smile.

He extended his arms. Rachel dropped her bag, and launched herself towards him.

Launched.

Rachel Berry just launched herself into the arms of Sam Evans. The SUV went silent for a beat, then the car exploded with a jumble of noise, each person speaking at the same time

"Holy shit, Jew-Berry!"

"When did this happen?"

"How could I, of all people, not know about this?"

"Get it, Rachel!"

"When did Rachel get a boyfriend?"

Santana and Quinn—the most silent of the group—just looked at each other, both having met him personally, and based on his reaction to Rachel's presence earlier that week—

The hesitation.

The stuttering.

The nervousness.

It seemed rather obvious, now that they thought about it; the nature of their relationship. But this revelation did not make it any less shocking.

'Berry and Vagina Lips?' Santana's thought sounded utterly disbelieving. Quinn felt incredibly numb as well. She watched as Sam settled his arms comfortably around Rachel's waist, seemingly having a very intimate conversation.

Something in Quinn's stomach dropped, though she ignored it. "You've got to be kidding me. This can't be what she's hiding." Quinn murmured to herself

"I don't understand!" Finn seemed to echo Quinn's sentiments. "When we broke up, she told me that she wasn't interested in—"

But Finn was silenced by a sharp, knowing glare, from Kurt. Though no one seemed to notice. Except Quinn, who caught the tail end of Kurt's annoyed thoughts. '…is an idiot. Didn't Rachel tell Finn to keep his mouth shut?'

Finn needs to keep his mouth shut about what?

"I think they're going on a weekend trip." Tina hummed. Mercedes and Kurt had their cell phones out and pointed out the window in an instant. Quinn watched as Sam chivalrously hefted Rachel's duffle bag into her trunk with a smile.

She felt—Quinn began to clench and unclench her fists. But her thoughts halted when she noticed that Rachel climbed into her car—alone—and sped out of driveway and disappeared down the block.

"Well that gets rid of my eloping theory." Kurt huffed disappointedly. "He was just there to see her off."

"Why the hell is he just standing there with that goofy smile on his face?" Santana was scowling. They all heard it in her voice. But then again, that was normal, so everyone ignored it.

"Why the hell are we just sitting here?" Puck began to fidget in his seat like a restless toddler. "He's standing right there. Let's just take him!" Mercedes nodded her head and quickly shifted the vehicle into drive.

Quinn whipped her head around to face Puck with a barely concealed grin. She could kiss him right now. But not really. Because—of reasons. She wasn't walking down that road again. She watched Sam's features become clearer the closer the car got to him.

An interrogation was definitely in order.


'Is he almost done?'

Sam caught Rachel's thought the moment he shut the hood of her car. She was walking briskly down the walkway, with a large duffle bag thrown over her shoulder (nearly the same size—if not bigger— than the girl herself, Sam thought bemusedly), and her cell phone clutched tightly in her hand.

"All done." He winked in her direction.

As Rachel neared the vehicle, she dropped her duffle bag, then proceeded to attack Sam with a bone-crushing hug. Not that he minded too much.

"Thank you so much!" She squealed into his neck, her arms still clinging tightly to his shoulders. "It means a lot to my dads, you know. That you're helping to take care of me while they are away."

He wrapped his arms securely around her waist, and his nose buried into her hair. "It's the least I could do." His words were muffled. "You guys have done so much for me."

Rachel pulled away, but her hands still rested comfortably on his shoulders. "Nonsense, Sam. Anyone would have—"

"No," He gripped her torso. "They wouldn't have. I—my family—owes you guys big time."

Rachel didn't respond to that statement, but shook her head and smiled a bright smile. Although she didn't see Sam as being in debt to her, there was nothing she could say to change his mind. He was an incredibly sweet guy, and a wonderful friend.

Except when he shunned her at school. But that is neither here nor there.

He squinted down at her after a moment of silence. Rachel briefly wondered if he heard that thought. "So, why are you going to Columbus again?"

Rachel abruptly pulled away at this question and reached down to fumble with her duffle bag straps. "Just a—" She cleared her throat distractedly as she began to drag it closer to the car. "I—we—as in my fathers and I—we wanted to do some shopping and—"

She trailed off as she attempted to heave the bag into the now open trunk. Sam was by her side instantly, quickly lifting and tucking the bag into the car's confines. "I get it. Family time."

'Oh, thank goodness.' Rachel's thought slipped. Sam caught it but didn't say a word. He wasn't quite sure if she was relieved that he had helped her with her bag or that she no longer had to explain her impromptu trip out of town. It wasn't his business, anyway.

"Anyway," Rachel slammed the trunk close with a huff. "I better head out."

Sam nodded his head and stepped into her space in order to give a parting hug. "Drive safely."

Rachel squeezed back lightly. "Of course." She stepped into her car, sent a small wave as her engine sputtered to life, and then she was gone.

As Sam was too busy watching Rachel disappear down the block, he didn't notice the squeal of tires behind him. Nor the slamming of multiple car doors. Nor the hurried footsteps. But what he did hear the bombardment of thoughts. And the loudest one brought chills to his spine. His eyes widened and he froze on the spot.

'What the hell—' The thought sliced through his consciousness like a butcher's knife. He felt a talon-like grip on his shoulder, and was spun around to meet icy hazel eyes. '—are you doing with Berry?'

Sam audibly gulped; Quinn Fabray sounded awfully pissed off.


Rachel's heart was beating rapidly in her chest the moment she arrived at the facility.

The building was shiny, unmarked, metal, and large. Quite large.

Rachel sent a quick text to her parents to notify them of her safe arrival and readjusted her large duffle bag as she stared at the structure in awe. It was downtown, in the same square as the government district buildings in the vicinity. Various men and women in business suits wandered around the square, heading to their homes after a tiring day at work.

She took a deep breath and eyed the glass entrance of the building. She was finally here. The testing would begin in just a few moments and she felt strangely—

Nervous.

Perhaps excited. But still nervous. Extremely nervous. Her entire future would be decided inside of this place.

She glanced down at her watch; 5:50pm.

She had made it to her destination with just 10 minutes to spare. She was glad that she left the time that she did. Showing up tardy to such an important meeting would just be—

Rachel shuddered at the thought of Dr. Meade's face if she had shown up even a minute later than promised. She pushed her way through the entrance and stared at the building's internal structure in wonder. It was just as shiny and metal as its exterior, with modern glass staircases and escalators. A lone reception desk sat at the room's center, guarded by a rather beefy looking man sitting behind the desk. His eyes quickly met hers the moment she walked through the doors.

An inexplainable chill ran down her spine. He made David Karofsky look like a Pomeranian in comparison

She gulped and once again readjusted her bag before making her way towards the desk. The guard watched her movements the entire way.

Rachel cleared her throat. "My—my name is Rachel Berry, and I have an appointment to see Dr. Sandra L. Meade."

The guard regarded her for moment, as if testing the truth of her statement, before letting out a satisfied grunt. "Identification card?" He husked out. His voice rumbled like a bass drum, and sounded akin to a growling bear. And now that Rachel thought about it, he kind of looked like one also. She quickly dug into her wallet, and the guard's large, rather paw-like hands tugged the ID card out of her grip. He stared at the ID intently for a few moments.

Rachel fidgeted.

He gave her another once over before handing back her ID. "Third floor." He rumbled.

"Thank you," She glanced down at his name tag. "Thomas. Thank you."

He smiled, or at least tried to smile, but it turned out to look something like a slight grimace. But at least he tried. And despite his intimidating aura, she had the sudden urge to pat him on his head. Rachel squelched that desire of course. There was no way she would take that risk. Thomas looked like he could eat her for dinner. He pointed to the solid glass elevator behind him with his thumb without saying another word.

Rachel took her time with the walk to the elevator, since the butterflies in her stomach had increased tenfold. But like all things that anyone was nervous about, everything seemed to have doubled in time, and the next thing Rachel knew, she was on the 3rd floor in a small waiting area under the watchful gaze of a yet another receptionist.

"Dr. Meade will be with you in a moment Miss Berry. If you can take a seat with the other subjects..."

Rachel frowned at the woman in front of her. She didn't like that she had just referred to people as subjects. It just sounded a little too clinical for her tastes. But wait—

There were other people being tested? She whipped around to face the other side of the room that—and Rachel had no idea how she did not notice this before—extended to a conclave, where a dozen or so gazes were fixed silently on her own. Everyone looked nervous; twiddling thumbs and bouncing knees, with various amounts of luggage scattered at their feet.

Rachel felt her hands clench tightly around her bag strap. Dr. Meade did state that she was responsible for forming a team of some sort. But before she could open her mouth to question it, the receptionist fixed her with a stern gaze. "Now if you would please take a seat. She will be with you in a moment."

Rachel huffed in protest, but still did as she was told, spotting an empty seat in-between a dark haired boy with far too much hair gel and a blonde with bright blue eyes.


Brittany S. Pierce knew that she was special.

And she wasn't just saying that because she was full of herself. Except, she kind of was. She was hot.

Smoking hot. And she was going to be famous one day. Totally famous.

Brittany also knew that according to normal people, she wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. And to be honest—she didn't really have to be. Yet no one could argue that her intuitive nature was her biggest strength. She knew that she was intelligent in her own right.

She was unique.

She was special. Though many of her peers would use that word in a not-so-nice way, she knew that one day that it wouldn't matter.

Because one day she knew she would stand apart from the rest.

Brittany wasn't a 'super', though her little sister once convinced her that she could fly and pushed her off of the top of their staircase. She didn't end up flying, but she did end up landing daintily on the balls of her feet. Her cat, Lord Tubbington, only gave her 4.5 out of 10 on the landing, but Brittany was sure he was just upset that she threw away all of his cigars the night before.

'Catlike,' her parents called her. And awfully light on her toes. Brittany was a natural dancer. She was tested for Manifestation Potential almost immediately after the incident. But it read negative. Literally. The lowest a person can get scored is a zero. Brittany was scored at a negative one. She had never been good at tests, even though she was homeschooled for most of her life. Brittany peered around the waiting room. After some questioning when she first arrived to the building, she found out that everyone else in attendance had negative Man Pot scores as well.

It made her feel a little better about her test-taking skills.

But Brittany still knew that she was special, and was confirmed of that fact the moment Dr. Sandra L. Meade suddenly appeared on her doorstep mid-workout. It was a lengthy introduction; one that Brittany probably wouldn't remember come the morning. The woman's eyes were a deep green, and something about her gave Brittany the chills, but at the same time something deep down inside of her—something that felt like instinct—told Brittany to trust her.

"I have an offer for you Ms. Pierce." Was what the woman stated matter-of-factly as Brittany stretched her arms over her head when both she and Dr. Meade finally settled in the living room; Brittany standing, Dr Meade sitting stiffly in the armchair.

Brittany shrugged. "Sure, okay. Let's hear it." She said as she sunk into a split. She already began to feel her muscles lock without a proper wind-down from her exercises.

Dr. Meade cleared her throat. She seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Much of this information must be discussed with discretion."

Brittany nodded her head immediately."You want it to be a secret right?" She waited for Dr. Meade's nod of confirmation as she shifted from a split to a lotus position on the floor.

"I understand." Brittany was monotone. But then her tone brightened. "So, you're from the National...something...of Justice—"

"National Security Division of the United States Department of—"

"Yeah, that." It was out of pure laziness that Brittany did not want to repeat it. And she didn't fail to notice the woman's eyes narrow at her interruption. "Did I do something wrong? I swear I'm not a terrorist or anything. You can ask my mom."

Dr. Meade chuckled lightly, though Brittany couldn't help but to feel that it seemed out of character for the woman to laugh at all. "I can assure you that this is not the reason why I am here. I am...putting together a team. And you were elected for candidacy."

Brittany blinked once, twice, then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to Dr. Meade. "Are you—Are you trying to make me president?"

Dr. Meade blinked as her eyebrows raised to hairline. "No." She answered slowly.

"Oh thank goodness. I've seen TV shows about this and it does not end well for the main character."

Dr. Meade peered at her for a long moment. "Are your parent's home, Ms. Pierce?"

Brittany nodded as she stood from the floor. "Dr. Meade? Before I get them I just wanted to let you know—" She took a deep breath as Dr. Meade looked up at her expectantly. "—you kind of give me the creeps." She remembered Dr. Meade frowning at her frank way of speaking. "But not really in a bad way. The back of my neck tingles whenever you speak, but at the same time, something inside is telling me to trust you. You're a vault."

"Excuse me?"

"A vault, like at a bank; intimidating but secure." Brittany sighed. "I guess I'm not making much sense."

Dr. Meade was silent for a moment, then answered carefully in voice that seemed to betray her wonderment, "It...actually makes more sense than you realize, Ms Pierce. In due time."

Brittany nodded, then jumped over the couch and darted up the stairs with agility she always remembered having. She barely heard Dr. Meade's hum of approval and something murmured about a window closing sooner than expected before she was tugging her parents down the staircase.

Brittany's parents greeted Dr. Meade with questioning gazes after introductions were made, but the woman proceeded for the next hour or so, discussing the details of The Program. Brittany admittedly zoned out for quite a bit of it. But she did catch a few parts of the conversation; "rigorous physical and mental training", "stipends", and "college recommendations" floated into her conscious. And before she knew it, her parents were holding pamphlets and shaking Dr. Meade's hands vigorously. Apparently, they were given a seventy-two hour window to make a sound decision for getting further testing.

"If you're accepted into The Program, your training will push you to your absolute limits. Is this something that you would be interested in, Ms. Pierce?"

"Absolutely."

"You'll be hearing from us," Her mother added. And Brittany knew why her parent's seemed so eager; her future was often a major concern to them. If joining this program would ensure security for their daughter—

"Excellent."

Brittany knew that they would have no qualms about it.

So here she was in this nondescript building, waiting for testing to see if she would be qualified for this team that Dr. Meade was speaking of. The other—similarly aged, Brittany noticed—candidates seemed too terrified to break the stifling silence in the waiting room. Their feet were bouncing on the tile, and their hands clenched anxiously at the material of their clothing.

All Brittany could feel was a sense of excitement coursing through her veins.

They all jumped in surprise when they heard the entrance to the waiting area click open. A short brunette girl wearing an argyle sweater vest, plaid skirt, and holding an air of self-importance which—Brittany thought—was actually quite endearing due to the fact that her knees were noticeably buckling under the weight of her duffle bag.

Brittany tilted her head. The girl also looked familiar.

She listened as the receptionist curtly dismissed Rachel towards the waiting area, and watched her jaw tighten when she noticed the other candidates in the room. When the girl finally settled into her seat—the only vacant one that just happened to be right next to Brittany—and adapted herself to the nerve-wrecked atmosphere, Brittany took a deep breath through her nose, and was hit with the realization of just how she remembered her.

Brittany remembered the smell of crayons. The smell of glue. The smell of construction paper. She remembered wooden desks and black chalkboards. She remembered gold stars and a brown-haired girl, humming her favorite tunes as she colored dutifully at her desk. She remembered the smell of her shampoo; vanilla and brown sugar, with a hint of mint. It hadn't changed one bit.

"Hi." Brittany watched as the girl started in her seat, but paid it no mind. "I'm Brittany." She proffered her hand.

"Hello..." The girl murmured, unsure how to react to the blatant greeting, but took Brittany's hand anyway. "My name is Rachel."

Brittany nodded sagely. "I remember you."

"Really?" Rachel's eyebrows pinched. "I don't remember you at all."

Brittany would have thought Rachel's response was rude if she didn't have the urge to pick up Rachel and put her in her pocket. She didn't think Rachel would take too well to that, but she somehow knew that Rachel had a good heart; she could feel it in her gut. And she spoke her mind. Brittany liked that about her already. "We were in kindergarten together."

Rachel's face scrunched, trying to remember something that she couldn't quite recall. "I—I'm sorry. I truly don't remember. You wouldn't happen to attend McKinley, would you?"

Brittany shook her head in the negative. "Home-schooled." She pointed towards herself. "And it's alright. Most people wouldn't remember stuff all the way from kindergarten. Besides, we have plenty of time to get to know each other again."

Rachel grinned guardedly, barely showing off pearly white teeth. "I suppose that's true." She paused for a beat. "There is a saying that you always meet people of importance twice in your life."

Brittany hummed. "Then that means we should totally be friends. Ugly sweater and all."

"I happen to think my sweater looks just—"

"I mean, we're both important. We're both here because we're special, right?"

Rachel seemed to pause at the word. "I—yes." She peered at Brittany with an unreadable expression. "We are special." Brittany winked at Rachel just as Dr. Meade made her appearance within the waiting area. She briefly wondered if Rachel felt the hairs at the back of her neck raise at the woman's presence too.

As they all stood from their seats and began to file into the testing center at Dr. Meade's request, Brittany bent down to whisper into Rachel's ear, "We should definitely stick together."

Rachel nodded wordlessly, most likely too nervous to properly continue the conversation.

"It would make the most sense wouldn't it? We are the important ones here." Brittany finished just as the hallway expanded into what was going to be their home for the weekend.


A/N: Whew! I'll keep this really short.

So, I have no excuse whatsoever for such a long hiatus. It began because life started kicking me pretty damn hard. When it wasn't...pure laziness took over. I certainly apologize for that! And to answer many similarly phrased questions, I am not abandoning The Offbeats. I promise.

Anyway, you guys-the readers, the followers, the reviewers-are beyond amazing! All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience. And I hope to make it up to you :)

Until next time,

Orange