Quinn woke up from a nightmare. She didn't usually scream – or maybe she didn't, since no one woke her up in the middle of the night because of it. But she could tell that she was shaken considerably by the way the covers were twisted and sweat dampened her clothes. It took her a while to stand and realize that she was no longer in her own room or somewhere that wasn't hers with someone she didn't want to be. Quinn woke up in a place that wasn't her own, but which gave her a strange sense of security.
She tried to relax, held her breath, ran her hand through her sweat-damp hair. Quinn sit down in bed. It took her a little longer to regain her composure, and only then to rise.
"I need go the bathroom. Where is it? Downstairs…" Quinn fought.
She was at the mezzanine, Carlos's room, Santana's brother. The room had the lowest ceiling so much so that she could touch it by stretching her arms. Quinn found it odd to be a little smaller than the height of the door. Someone the size of Mr. Lopez, for example, would have to bow his head and bend over a little to get through that room. On the other hand, judging from privacy, Quinn could understand very well why a boy would choose that place.
The stairs were practically vertical to the second floor. The noises and voices around the house showed that the Lopez's were standing. Quinn found the bathroom empty. She did her morning routines, and then decided to move into Santana's room, where she knew Rachel had slept. She found her colleague already standing, rearranging the bed.
"Good morning." Rachel smiled. "Sleep well?"
"Like a rock." Quinn thought no one needed to know she had nightmares. "Do you always like this when you wake up?" She was impressed by the way Rachel stretched the sheets.
"Usually I fix my bed after breakfast. But this bed belongs to Santana Lopez! Do you need any more explanation?"
"Where do you sleep when Santana's here?"
"Carlos' room." Rachel continued her task of fixing the leader's bedroom to perfection. "Santana says Carlos's room is perfect for my size."
"Oh... you mean that offenses aren't just a facade?"
"It depends on how you look at them. Santana has a pejorative nickname for all of us except for one person. You'll almost certainly win one, and I can even imagine what it would be. "
"Really?" Quinn folded her arms. "What does she call me on my back?"
"Icehole is the most common."
"Icehole as ice and hole? Not asshole?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's not that bad. Who are the others?"
Rachel became serious and was silenced, causing Quinn to roll her eyes in the process.
"Will you continue without saying anything?"
"Do you already have your buttons?" Rachel snapped.
"Come on, Rachel! We're talking about fucking nicknames, not the ultimate project to dominate the world!"
"I won't say a word about it."
"Why are you so stiff?"
"If you will be one of us, you need to learn certain things like closing your mouth when it is necessary, and respecting the hierarchy. Actually, I'm higher than you."
"And Santana is the leader who doesn't respond to anyone."
"Santana respond to someone. We respond to her. If you want to belong to the group, Quinn, this needs to be clear. The last thing we need is a spoiled unprovoked rebel to bring us more trouble than we already have." Rachel hardened her speech and stance. She finished fixing Santana's bed and walked toward Quinn with the same determination as she did when she was about to receive a flood of offenses at school. "From what I understand, this is an opportunity you were desperate to have. Don't screw that. We can make a difference in your life in the same way that you can make a positive difference in someone's life."
"That part is clear, Rachel. I just don't understand all this rigor. The way you change posture when I ask something dumb. Santana is the same... even worse."
"Because you can only access the answers as you deserve. For now, you must want to join the group and accept the conditions. If you can't do that, just get out before things get complicated, or someone kick you in a very painful way. And as much as I like you, Quinn Fabray, I won't let you hurt my family!"
"Do You like me?"
Rachel was startled by the question and stepped back, as if struck, because she never stopped to think seriously about it. Did she like Quinn Fabray? In what sense? Rachel circled the room until she finally sat on the edge of Santana's bed, partly ruining her own work.
"Even if all our clashes in and out school, I never thought of you in anger or hatred way." Rachel said in a lower, almost contemplative voice. "Not to mention that you always remembered me to work at your house parties, which is good because the money helped."
"You're welcome!"
"I think I forgave you for the way you treated me because I always thought you had too much trouble at home. That's why you're so angry all the time."
"You weren't wrong!" Quinn allowed herself to giggle.
"You're not a bad person, Quinn. You may have all the problems of the world and have experienced horrible things, but just because you are here, in this house, under these conditions, and with a blue button, it shows that you deserve a chance. "
"You're even a cool girl, Rachel Berry. Who would say?"
It was Rachel's turn to allow herself a small smile and a slight blush on her face. Their conversation was interrupted when Maribel yelled at the girls, warning that breakfast was on the table. They both went downstairs and greeted the Lopez's. Breakfast at Lopez's house was simple. Quinn couldn't compare it to the variety of the daily banquet in the Fabray mansion. Santana's family had no money left, and that reflected the table.
"Do you like pancakes?" Maribel offered Quinn.
"Yes, I do."
"The cherry jelly is great. I did it myself." Maribel said proud.
"When the tree gets loaded, Maribel usually calls to see if I'm available to help pick the cherries. Of course I always am. Even more than my pay is a pot of this delicious homemade jelly!" Rachel said with a smile on her face.
"This is one of the last pots from that harvest, Rach" Maribel said. "This year, I'm going to make jellies to sell. Cherry, strawberry, blueberry..."
"Will you need help?" Rachel said as she poured herself some coffee to mix with the milk.
"I wouldn't dismiss my favourite helper."
Rachel smiled and Quinn was even more astonished to observe the family's interaction. There were no employees around, the table hadn't many options. Juan wasn't a virtual dad like Russell, who lived more in the office and only interacted with the family when he had some order to give. Maribel seems happy and light. She was so different then the plastically neat and always tense Judy Fabray. Everyone talked in the Lopez house, and it seemed exotically perfect to them, even knowing that perfection was something that didn't exist. The only healthy interaction that Quinn had at home was with sister, Frannie. But she had left to study in Texas and Frannie would hardly come back home judging by the tone of her latest messages.
After helping Maribel set the table from the breakfast, Rachel said good-bye to Quinn and the couple, promising to come back the next day. Quinn felt lost for a moment.
"Quinn?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lopez?"
"Please call me Maribel."
"Okay... Maribel."
"I'm going to free fair that happens every Saturday in the square. Would you like to go and help me? Of course if you want, you can stay here at home. Juan should leave soon for his shift in the hospital. But you can do whatever you want, of course."
"I'll help you. It will be a pleasure."
Quinn and Maribel were walking to the square, which really wasn't far. Maribel spoke trivialities, which Quinn found lovely. Who could say that Santana's mother was a nice and even funny person? Another detail that caught Quinn's attention was the very population that was passing by. For political reasons, children of parliamentarians studied in public schools. It was only in that environment that Quinn had contact with some socioeconomic diversity. Moreover, her life was the Fabray mansion, the rich neighbourhood, and social activities among her own.
Quinn was surprised at how lively and dynamic the city was, even on its poorer side. People greeted each other, there were street vendors, ragged but talented street artists, people talking absently. On the other hand, Quinn had never seen so much poverty so close. It was shocking to see so many beggars near the fair: people who lived in the streets, without access to a roof, let alone personal hygiene. These people lived literally in rubbish bins because they couldn't give the agents soft or approach the richer quarters: the order was to arrest them or even get rid of those people. All to preserve the clean look of the city. But there was some security for the homeless to circulate in poor neighbourhoods.
Quinn paid attention to a woman with a headscarf, thin, dirty, without her front teeth, and with a baby on her lap. She gave a whine to another child and then turned to those who passed for a coin. Quinn, in shock, approached the woman and gave her five bucks.
"God bless you, my daughter," the woman said, then turned to the child. "Hey, I told you to stay here!"
"Are they your children?" Quinn asked.
"Why do you want to know?" The beggar said with frightening aggression.
Quinn walked away, not understanding that the woman's aggression was a defense of those who had gotten used to being kicked in the streets. Following Maribel, Quinn saw with amazement the tumult of the free fair. For someone who barely went to a supermarket, the fair was almost a zoo. Sellers shouted their promotions, customers came up in narrow spaces, and they all carried their own bags on their shoulders, or pushed fair carts.
Maribel had the favourite stalls. The older woman bought fruit and vegetables with unique skill. In the process, she taught Quinn to always choose the best ones. The tomato needs to be red and firm, the leaves couldn't be wilted and dark, the oranges with the smoothest shells used no more succulents than those with coarser shells. Quinn also noticed that Maribel always made two packages: one larger, for home, and another smaller one with two or three units of fruit or vegetable that she bought.
The response to such a procedure wasn't delayed. Maribel separated all these smaller packages and passed in front of a very poor house near the square. An old woman answered, and Maribel was quick to greet her with a friendly hug. It was an old neighbour who had no one else in the world. Her husband died, one son was a political prisoner and the other one had crossed the border at the time of the regime's installation. If it weren't for Maribel and others friends, the old lady would have starved to death. Still, this lady had wisdom, pride, and dignity.
Quinn didn't know if Maribel had a schedule to take her to the fair. Do that as it may, walking in that part of town was important. Quinn even questioned politics: something she had never done before. Why did her father, who was a parliamentarian, do absolutely nothing to help those people? Why was the power game so much more important than a social transformation project? Why didn't even someone in a privileged situation, like Quinn, ever ask such questions? Lack of intellectual curiosity wasn't her problem: she was a great student. But the education she received didn't stimulate questioning. She and everyone else in that country were deprived of works and thoughts that were considered dangerous not necessarily to oppose what was preached by the government, but because they were capable of promoting reflection.
For the government, the only acceptable question was of a practical and technical nature. Philosophy was dangerous, sociology was dangerous, history is rewritten to meet interests. This was a country that despised social thinkers in favour of a herd of limited critical sense, indoctrinated with ecclesiastical strategy: in this way, the government's ideology began to have a religious meaning. Violence was the remedy for those who dared to think differently. And so a nation was built without political opinion, without motivation for action, with limited expression, fearful and conformed.
"Maribel, may I ask you something?" Quinn said shyly as she watched Maribel start fixing their lunch.
"Of course. What is it?"
"Juan is a doctor and you work for yourself. How do you still live in this neighbourhood?"
Maribel stared at the girl and sighed.
"Because it's where we have conditions to be and where we like to be. We don't have much, materially speaking, but we live very well: we have our own house, we pay our bills, we put food on the table and our children are well on their way. Our life is good, Quinn. We haven't much money left, but we are happy. Besides, if we were to live in a more expensive neighbourhood, our privations would be even greater. So what's the point?"
Quinn nodded and stayed there, keeping Maribel company. Shortly after lunch, after washed the dishes – something she had never done before – she sat in the living room and went to watch television just to keep Santana's mother company. Her mind was so full she couldn't really pay attention to the melodramatic little soap opera. Quinn looked out the window and saw a patrol pass by the front of the house. Her heart started racing. She had never been afraid of a patrol before: her daughter's identity as a parliamentarian was like a passport to do anything in town at any time, even in curfew zones.
Half an hour later, she saw another patrol pass by the house. Quinn's heart pounded. She thought it couldn't be a coincidence. Maybe agents had recognized her, or distrusted the expensive car parked in a neighbourhood like that. Even with the promise that she would wait for Santana to arrive on Sunday to decide what to do, she felt that her staying could bring danger to a lovely family.
She made the decision on impulse. Quinn said goodbye to Maribel. She thanked the older woman for her unparalleled hospitality and went away.
…
One last time at home. A quick shower. Rachel ran to get ready. She had agreed to go to the movies with the buttons. Sam would soon pass to pick her up and everything else would be in the mall. They wanted to get their first movie session, so they could eat something and enjoy themselves. She grabbed the only pair of jeans she had and one of her favourite blouses. It created a good contrast. Shoes? Few options. She wore the much-used black converse. She combed her hair, straightened her bangs, and breathed before the mirror. She was presentable.
"You're beautiful!" Rachel was surprised to see Natalie invade her room in the basement. "Are you going on a date?"
"I'm going to the movies with my friends." Rachel smiled at the little girl.
"Your boyfriend will be there?"
"Yes, Kurt will be there with more other friends, like Sam."
"Puck said Sam is not good company." Natalie folded her arms and frowned. "You shouldn't go out with him, Rach."
"Puck doesn't like Sam because they disagree about some things," she tried to explain carefully. "Just because your brother is no longer his friend, doesn't mean that Sam is a bad person."
Rachel caressed the little girl and turned back to the mirror. She fixed her makeup, took her purse, and checked her money. Good thing not to have deposited the earnings of the last private class. She smiled when she heard the horn. She took Natalie by hand, closed the door, went upstairs and said goodbye to Anna.
"I'll be back by the end of the afternoon." Rachel said to her foster mother, but Anna, as always, didn't seem to care.
Sam was waiting in front of the house. He would have knocked on the door and greetings Rachel's foster mom if there hadn't been any trouble with Puck. He still had bruises to remind him of the nature of the people he went through with the buttons. The purple in his back had not yet disappeared.
"You're beautiful!" Sam said sincerely. Rachel just smiled before climbing onto the moped.
The path to the city's only shopping mall was long from there, in the same neighbourhood the gym was, but it was where had more entertainment options concentrated in one place. They waited for the others, but no one else showed up. Blaine and Kurt sent messages that they were together. Matt had to help his father in the cafeteria. Brittany must have forgotten and it isn't that Seban had actually been warned. They were, therefore, just Rachel and Sam in the movies.
They chose to see the last alien movie. It was the production that was in evidence in every place for having been filmed in the country. The production team was attracted by the incredible tax benefits offered by the government to make a plot that was going on in the country without criticizing itself. It was one of the best forms of international propaganda that could be done in favour of the ill-fated country. Criticism of the plot of the film was positive. What the national press didn't show, and which the buttons were able to access, were the harsh words intended for production by accepting perks from an enclosed country controlled by a fascist parliamentary government.
Regardless of politics, Rachel and Sam just wanted some fun and the two were fans of the filmmaker responsible for executive production of the feature. Rachel wasn't an enthusiast of the alien theme. She was terrified of dark productions with violent monsters and used to have nightmares whenever she watched horror movies. Sam liked this kind of movies. If he had the financial conditions, he would have an enormous collection of DVDs and toys of the sort. Something like Rachel would like to do with musical movies. She remembered that her parents had a huge collection of musical DVDs, almost all imported. They watched in the room eating popcorn and drinking juice. Rachel would sing all the songs and even do the choreography. But nothing of it remained. The government took everything away. Musical, house, everything.
"What did you think?" Sam asked at the end of the movie.
"Not bad." Rachel frowned and began to speak as if she were some critic of a television show. "It's a charming, nostalgic setting for a suburban neighbourhood. It is obvious that the director wanted to do some homage to other films of the genre. This goes through clichés that are sometimes abbess. But I cannot deny that the production is very good and the rhythm makes the movie entertaining." Rachel burst out laughing when she saw that Sam was impressed.
"You should do the movie reviews of the school newspaper! Really! The texts that Jewfro writes are horrible."
"I can't believe you read Jewfro's texts!" Sam blushed.
"I read the newspaper, ok..." He admitted embarrassed. "It's so clueless that it's hilarious." Rachel laughed.
"To tell the truth, I read the gossips. Tina is very creative and I usually am the target of some notes. Especially last month. In fact, we were both targets. I bet our and Kurt's will stamp the headlines of the next edition."
"Are you have fun with that?"
"Either I start laughing at the nonsense or I promote a newspaper burning followed by a furious protest in the middle of the schoolyard. The gossips are harmless most of the time and at least I know our glee club is not so invisible."
"It seems that philosophy speaks badly, but talk about me..."
"I want to be an actress. I appreciate the drama. "
Sam shook his head. In the food court, each one chose a dish that served better. Rachel bought a salad. Sam, a hamburger combo.
"Hey you!" They were surprised by a half-angry Mercedes. "Are you really dating?"
"Hi to you too, Mercedes." Rachel said annoyed
"Sorry, Rachel, but..." She sat down next to Sam. "Kurt is one of my best friends and I just wanted to understand what's going on between you and Sam. Kurt doesn't want to talk, at the same time he doesn't seem to be so upset. People are talking badly about both of you..."
"What people? Puck?" Sam looked serious.
"Puck, Finn, Artie to begin with."
"God..." Rachel took a deep breath. "Kurt and I are still dating and Sam and I are friends. I swear, Mercedes, that's all to understand."
"So you two aren't fucking at Kurt's back?"
"No." They both responded at the same time.
"Are you sure?"
"I would break up with Kurt before start dating someone else." Rachel said offended.
"Good..." Mercedes stood up. "I'll leave you two alone. See you on Monday."
"This situation couldn't be more bizarre. You never cheated on anyone... " Sam shook his head.
"It's not what they think. I don't mind, anyway. It's part of being a button." Rachel smiled.
After lunch, Sam and Rachel intend to walk in one of the parks, but the rain forced a change of plans. Sam introduced Rachel to the arcade and some of the classic games. She had fun playing pinball, trying to hit balls in the basket, and in other interactive games she only played to win a lot of chips and trade them for silly things, like a pink rubber with a smell of chewing gum. They also missed the time with good conversation.
When they realized it, it was past seven and Rachel was tired. They decided it was time to go home. Sam had the gentleness in giving the jacket to his friend. Helmets in place and departed back home. Regardless of Puck and the pouring rain, Sam made a point of leaving Rachel at the door.
"See you at school?" Sam asked.
"Of course... we need to make the biggest publicity for others who have stuck guilty."
Sam smiled and kissed Rachel's lips. One kiss is expected to happen after a date. They had a great day together, they liked each other and other people saw they had chemistry. So why not? The kiss however aroused an unexpected feeling in Rachel: that perhaps she preferred a friend rather than a boyfriend. But she wouldn't say anything right there. She didn't want to ruin a good day with an overwhelming observation.
The door opened suddenly. Puck had a frown on his face.
"She's already home, bro!"
Without wishing a fight, Sam nodded and said good-bye. Rachel entered de house, greeted Anna and Natalie before heading straight downstairs for her bedroom. She was almost running. Still, Puck followed her.
"You have to break up with this guy" He determined.
"How can I finish something that hasn't even begun, Noah? It was just a peck."
"Still, dating this guy is bad news. Sam is a liberal."
"But do you even know what that means?" Rachel was harsh. "Or do you know why you think Sam is a liberal?" Puck was speechless.
Sam was a guy who didn't like politicians and refused to get a government propaganda magazine once, as many people did. Other than that, he never gave more reasons to generate mistrust. He never openly admitted the points he hated in government, that he had no prejudice against homosexuals, that he advocated a more tolerant society and that John Lennon was his favourite Beatle. And that yes, more once he thought of get out of that country. Rachel wanted it too and be an actress, or a singer. Sam wanted to make music without worrying about the words he would say, with the ideas he would like to defend.
"Or maybe you don't like him because he doesn't want to act like you and the others," Rachel challenged. It was stupid, but she could not help it. "I know about the fascists' group that you are getting involved!"
"If I were you, I'd take more care of your tongue." Puck's tone was dangerous. "This time I let it go, Rach. Just don't count on luck." He turned his back and left the room.
Rachel sighed. She realized that there would come a point that her living with the Puckemen was being a pain in ass. Maybe it was time to think seriously about leaving home. She was seventeen, which meant that Anna was no longer accountable for her actions, but she had a duty as guardian to provide a roof until Rachel turns 18. This date marks the end of Foster program allowance Ann receive to give Rachel a roof. Rachel knew that after her birthday, it would be a matter of days or few weeks at best until Anna kicked her out of the house. She needed to think carefully about what to do next.
…
On Sunday morning, after helping Anna with breakfast and cleaning the house, Rachel walked little more than half an hour to the Lopez house. Luckily, it was a cloudy day with a discreet sun. She wanted to see how Quinn was getting along with the family.
"Rachel!" Juan waved. The doctor was exhausted. He had just arrived home from duty.
Rachel looked ahead into the yard, and was surprised to see Santana's motorcycle parked, but not Quinn's car.
"Good morning. Mr. Lopez. Is Santana home?"
"I think she is... maybe the weather wasn't good at camp. Come in... she may be at her room. You know the way."
Rachel get in the house, spoke to Maribel before go upstairs to Santana's room. She knocked on the door and identified herself before being allowed get in. She found Santana lying on the clean bed with her clothes soiled with dirt and mud.
"Hi!" Rachel noticed Santana's tension, so she was cautious. "I didn't expect to see you this early."
"Me neither." Santana looked frustrated and Rachel assumed something had gone wrong.
"Quinn?"
"She sent me a message on my cell phone. She's in a hotel."
"Would she..." Rachel soon thought of Quinn betraying everyone.
"Rach... I don't know. Only I can't ignore any hypothesis." Santana sat on the bed and put her hands on her head. Rachel had never seen her so worried and frustrated before. Also Santana's expression of pain didn't go unnoticed. It made Rachel feel uncomfortable in the stomach. "I may have made a mistake in inviting her... The bigger buttons approved, but that was my idea, my responsibility. Quinn is a high risk I paid to see" She said whispering. "If I had thinking a bit more, maybe I would have made everything different. Quinn can be used as a political weapon, you know? But it wasn't quite what I thought. I just wanted to help her, and this headache is what happens when you don't calculate the risks. Learn from my mistakes, Rach. When the time comes, you will have to be a better leader."
"What are you talking about?"
"Forget it, ok…"
"For now… anyway… What happened to you?"
Santana shook her head. She had trouble getting up and picking up the backpack and took an envelope from inside. She showed Rachel the sender, Shelby Corcoran, and gave it to her. Rachel was anxious about the letter, but she was also worried about the blood stain on the brown envelope.
"It's not mine..." Santana said softly. "I hurt myself when I fell off the bike... nothing serious. Luckily, I wasn't on the asphalt. I didn't see what I hit because I was in hurry and I fell on the ground."
"San..."
"That's what I could save..." She held up her backpack full of letters. Rachel may feel that the leader was on the verge of an emotional breakdown and this was scary. "I was able to get almost everything before..."
"San. What did you do?" Rachel asked carefully, keeping the tone of whisper.
"It was an ambush. I got those letters and I ran... it was high dawn... I never put my bike along with the other cars... I always hide it in the bush... the guys always make fun of me... they called me paranoid... but they came... the intelligence squad... there were shots ... it was horrible... I got out... and everything exploded... I think I kill someone…"
Santana sat on the floor and Rachel ran hug her and allowed the leader to cry against her body. Eventually, Santana was silent. She wiped away her tears and stood up with some difficulty. She had the stoic mask in place and closed the backpack.
"I'm likely to be late for school tomorrow. So you're going to do something for me." She went to the closet and picked up a bag of buttons. She separated some and gave them to Rachel "Put them in the lockers. Now get the hell out of here."
Rachel opened her hand. They were red buttons.