Chapter 11: Santana III
"Santana. My office. Now."
From where she was standing by Brittany's locker, Santana turned in the direction of the familiar voice of Sue Sylvester. "Sure, coach." She turned back to Brittany, who looked at her sympathetically.
"You want me to come too?"
Santana shook her head. "It's fine. She just asked for me, so I'd better go alone. I'll meet you at Glee rehearsal, okay?"
Brittany nodded and headed down the hallway. Santana sighed and headed into Sue's office.
Sue, like the ninja Santana suspected she might be, was already sitting in her office chair, like a queen on a throne. Well, more like a president about to bomb a small country. She gestured for Santana to sit.
"You've missed two Cheerios practice. That concerns me. I heard from your mother that you had some kind of stomach bug, which I assume she thought was excuse enough, but from now on in, I want you at Cheerios practice even if you're throwing up your insides, bleeding all over the floor or still "recovering" from major surgery. Do you understand?"
Santana nodded. "I promise, it won't happen again, Coach."
Sue locked eyes with her. "I know it won't. You're my smoking gun, Santana. As the head of this squad, I need you to be setting an example. Not only that, but you're in a position of power. You are the social elite. And that comes with responsibilities. Not only do you need to keep order around here, but you also need to keep an eye out at all times for anything that might threaten your position." She crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair. "That's why I need you to step it up a notch at Glee club. Yes, I want that festering pile of mouth breathers destroyed, but not only that, I want them crushed. Individually. Every last one of them. I don't want any of them getting ideas that they're more than what they are, which is the bottom feeders in the perilious ocean that is the high school experience."
Santana knew what the cheer-leading coach was really doing in Lima, thanks to warning from the Changs and a little probing of her own. Not that she'd dare try to do anything to Sue but she had listened in a few times, as carefully as possible, to know that a 6th consecutive national title wasn't the only thing Sue had her sights on. Fortunately, Santana was more or less on the inner circle. Since Quinn was kicked off, Santana was head cheerleader and pretty much ruled the school. No one dared mess with her. No one except Sue Sylvester. Santana knew it was in her best interests to keep Sue's focus on destroying the Glee club, rather than what she was actually there for – looking for students displaying abnormal behavior. As long as she was hung up on some personal vendetta, it made things easier for all of them.
"What do you want me to do?" Santana asked.
"I want you to find out if any of your little friends were responsible for the fire in the corridor last week," said Sue evenly. "It's suspicious. And it's not too far from the choir room. It also took place after school, and seeing that I know for a fact that a lot of those pathetic children hang out around after school to practice show tunes in the auditorium in some vain attempt to escape the misery that is their lives, that makes them all suspects."
Santana smiled, trying to project as assured an image as she could to the iron willed cheer-leading coach. "I'll look into it. Is there anything else?"
Sue just looked at her for a moment, eyes hard and almost searching. Santana resisted the urge to bite her lip anxiously. Finally, Sue spoke. "Yes. Since you've missed so many practices, I want 15 laps from you after tomorrow's practice. As an example."
Santana nodded. "Fine." She looked over at the clock. "Glee rehearsal is starting. I'd better get started."
"Don't let me down."
She nodded again and left the office, trying desperately to keep her cool. Sue unnerved her. Just knowing that she could find out about them and would take them away to get tested in God knows what kind of ways freaked her out more than she could imagine. Sure, if Sue ever found out, maybe she could take care of it. But maybe not. She'd brought the subject up with Mr. Chang once and he'd mentioned his theory that by now, the organization looking for people like Mike, Santana and Tina would have ways to counter abilities being used on them. Not that it completely ruled out the possibility. Just that it wasn't something anyone should count on.
Santana arrived at the choir room at the same time as Mike and Matt. Mike's presence, plus Sue's earlier comments, reminded her of what Mike had suggested after she came out of her Artie induced 24 hour cat nap. Listen in on the Glee kids. Not only might she found out who'd found Tina's wheelchair, she might also find some incriminating tidbits she could feed to Coach Sylvester to get her off her back. A part of her felt guilty about using her fellow Glee members like that but if it was a case of her or them, she was definitely picking her. She was picking her, and Mike, and Tina. And Brittany. As far as she was concerned, the rest of them could go to any hell of Sue's choosing, as long as she kept the people she really cared about safe.
Mr. Schuester waved at her as she came in. "Santana, good to see you back. You feeling better?"
"Much better, thanks Mr. Schue."
Santana liked the Spanish teacher, she really did. Partly because as a native speaker of Spanish, she'd been excused from his class indefinitely, with the exception of helping out once a week with conversation classes, which went towards giving her a final grade instead of just not taking the course. It definitely made her transcript look a hell of a lot better, and she found she actually liked helping out with conversation classes. Mr. Schue had rightly figured she'd be better off helping out his advanced class rather than the beginners and basically, all she had to do is have conversations with Spanish with other students. Sure, it was mostly a bunch of nerds, but both Mike and Tina were in the class, so it really didn't bother her too much at all. And also, Mr. Schuester actually gave a crap about his students. That much was crystal clear. Santana bit her lip thoughtfully and decided to have a listen in on Mr. Schuester's inner monologue.
/it's funny how the whole dynamic of the group shifts when we've got someone away/ didn't realise just how much Santana's vocals come through/ she's got a good voice, I should use it more often/ sure, she comes across as a bit of a bitch sometimes but I know that's just a cover/ I've seen her with my advanced students/ she's actually got a heart, much as Sue Sylvester is trying to stamp it out of her/ what on earth was Sue on about this morning in the staff room/ none of my kids could have had anything to do with the fire/ should I check?/ no, I don't want them to think I don't trust them/ unless Figgins makes me, I won't/ I don't owe Sue anything/
Santana took a seat next to Brittany and resolved to convince Figgins that the fire was a complete accident. This was getting a little too close for comfort. As Mr. Schue started on about sectionals, Santana took the opportunity to listen in on Mercedes, sitting behind her.
/like we're gonna do anything interesting at Sectionals/ I bet he gives all the solos to Rachel and Finn/ was he even listening when we did Proud Mary?/ Artie's vocals and mine together are amazing/ poor Artie, he's still looking pretty down/ Tina seems to have cheered up a bit/ she's been spending a lot of time with Mike/ is there something going on there?/ that'd break Wheels' heart/ girl, you and I gonna have a talk about this/ gotta say, though, Mike's pretty cute/ but I really thought Tina and Artie were it/ I should so text Kurt about this/
At the sounds of Mercedes pulling out her phone, Santana tuned out and moved on to Finn, who was a few seats left of Mercedes.
/If I do any more duets with Rachel, Quinn's gonna scratch my eyes out/ she's like, a total mess of hormones, what with being pregnant and all/ I wonder if she's gonna get all those weird cravings/ like pickles and ice cream/ I wonder what pickles and ice cream taste like/ it could be kind of gross, but it could be awesome/ after practice, I'm gonna go buy Quinn some pickles and ice cream/ if she doesn't like it, then I can just eat it/ well, at least the ice cream/ I don't even like pickles that much/
With a roll of her eyes, Santana tuned out. Like Finn Hudson had enough brain power to be the mastermind behind this whole thing. She looked down the row to Matt and thought for a minute. Sure, he was quiet, but didn't they say something about still waters or whatever? He could totally know something. He was Mike's best friend, maybe somehow he'd picked something up. Santana focused in on his thoughts.
/I just needed extra time/ just extra time/ I have no idea what happened/ this is like some kind of weird comic/ did I make it stop?/ the clock wasn't moving/ the dog wasn't moving/ the fish weren't moving/ and I know I didn't kill them/ everything just stopped/ and when I was done, it started like nothing had happened/ that's not even possible/ was I just dreaming?/ but the essay is done/ how can the essay be done?/ you can't do an essay in your sleep/ but you can't stop time, either/ I don't know what to do/ I can't tell anyone about this/ they'll think I'm a freak/ oh god/ what do I do?/ how did I do it?/ I didn't even mean to/ I wish I could talk to someone about this/
With a snap, Santana came back to herself, heart pounding. She stood up shakily. "Mr. Schue, I'm not feeling so good, I'm just gonna go to the bathroom."
She bolted out of the room to Mr. Schuester's concerned "do you need someone to go with you?" and Puck's "dude, she's totally gonna puke."