A.N: The long wait is almost over, you guys! Just a few more days, and Glee is coming back! I haven't felt this excited since I learned that Puck and Rachel are reuniting for an episode in the back nine.
Some of the dialogue and situations may seem familiar, and that's because I'm basing some parts of it from the promos that are already out. Regionals are a month away after all; time to bring in some competition (and I'm not just talking about show choir.) And as always, thank you to the lovely people who reviewed the last chapter!
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything.
Jigsaw Pieces
Chapter Fourteen
At the moment, Rachel can't even begin to feel bothered about the whole Quinn/Noah/everything else situation. They have a bigger problem on their hands.
Vocal Adrenaline has extended an invitation to another Invitational. This Saturday.
They might as well have issued a note to New Directions with a picture of Casper's less-than-friendly counterparts, with the word: "boo".
"Mr. Schue, do we really have to go?" Mercedes calls out that Thursday, right after he announces the news. "They sent us that invite so we'd watch them and see how 'good' they are."
"I have to agree," Artie adds. "They're trying to scare us. If we went, we'd be playing right into their hands."
"But if we didn't go, then it would show that we aren't brave enough to face them," Rachel argues. "Regionals are a month away, we have to at least know what we're competing against."
"I'm with Rachel on this one," Mr. Schue says. "This is the big leagues, guys. We're going against the evil empire of the show choir world: Vocal Adrenaline. I know you've already seen them perform, but I can guarantee that they've been stepping it up since then. We need to show them we're not afraid of them."
It takes awhile for them to come to a general consensus, but after awhile, they settle it: They're going. They spend the rest of the meeting discussing transportation plans (Kurt, Santana, and Noah will take their cars. Quinn would've offered hers, but at the moment it's in the shop), and Mr. Schue adds that Miss Pillsbury is going to chaperone along with him.
(Rachel sighs, because Mr. Schue has that happy-dazed look on his face, the kind he seems to be getting lately whenever he talks about the guidance counselor. It just goes to show how messed-up her love life is when her teacher's relationship problems work out faster than her own.)
It pains her to say it, but here it is: Vocal Adrenaline has gotten, if possible, even better than last time.
They perform AC/DC's Highway to Hell, and it's an explosive performance—quite literally. It's all flash and fire and energy and their voices and routines are phenomenal. They've got the crowd pumped and on their feet, and they aren't even halfway through the first act when the cheers become overwhelming.
New Directions does nothing but watch, occasionally whispering to one another or giving each other looks. During intermission, Kurt, who's sitting next to Rachel, says, "This whole thing is nauseating in an I-totally-hate-them-for-being-amazing kind of way."
"I know," she replies with a little sigh. "Mr. Schue wasn't kidding when he said they've stepped it up since the last time we saw them."
"Can I say 'we're screwed' now?" Noah, who (much to his annoyance; he keeps looking like he wants to throttle Mike and Matt) ends up sitting on Rachel's opposite side, leans in and mutters, "Jeez, Berry, and I thought you were insane. Next to these guys, you look like a sleeping puppy."
She rolls her eyes and accidentally-on-purpose elbows his arm a little too hard. When he glares at her, she puts on her best, innocent smile and says, "Oops. Sorry."
She can feel eyes on her and turns to see Kurt giving her a raised eyebrow. "What?"
"I didn't know you and Puck were getting cozy again," he says with a grin.
"I heard that, Hummel," Noah says, and apparently, so did the rest of the Glee club, because they're all suddenly staring at them with varying expressions—most of them curious, and Finn suspicious. She decides to ignore everyone and instead settles more comfortably in her seat.
Let this be a lesson to future reporters: When it comes to Rachel Berry, silence does not mean yes, it means no comment.
The second act stars in a matter of minutes and as expected, it's even better and more dynamic than the first. The crowd practically goes insane. Rachel, for her part, is dissecting their every move—every turn, every harmony, even their costumes. She takes note of the little mistakes—because shocking as it may sound, their routines, though great, are not perfect—and files it away for future reference, and makes a mental list of their strengths and weaknesses so they'll all know what to work on in order to beat them.
As Sun Tzu said, know your enemy.
When it's over, they join the crowd in the standing ovation (partly because their gracious, and partly because they really just want to get out of here.) The number of people is rather outstanding, though, so by the time their group manages to get out of the auditorium, the place is more or less empty.
They'd just reached the lobby when Rachel realizes something. "Wait," she calls out, and when they all stop and turn to her, she explains with a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry. I can't find my purse."
"Do you know where you last saw it?" Quinn asks.
"I think I might have left it back in my seat, I'm not sure. I barely even noticed it during the performance. I'll be right back—Kurt," she says, turning to the boy whom she had ridden with on the way here. "Would it be alright if you waited for a minute or two while I looked?"
Kurt nods, although it doesn't look like he's in love with the idea. "Fine. If we stay longer, the more killer the traffic's going to get, though, so we have to be quick. I still have to meet my dad back in the shop, and the rest of them need to get home pronto."
"Is it okay if we go ahead, though?" Quinn asks, glancing at Brittany and Santana, whom she had gotten a ride with. "I really want to lie down."
Everyone says okay, and Rachel nods. "It's fine by me. I'll see you at home."
"Come on," Tina offers to Rachel. "We'll help you look."
"We can take you home," Matt blurts out. It surprises everyone, because Matt's always been more of the quiet, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Everyone stares at him, including Noah, who looks like a deer caught in the headlights—you know, if that deer looked like it was about to commit homicide at any second.
"It makes sense," he says, shrugging. "I mean, you all have somewhere to be and stuff, and Puck, Mike, and I are free after this. We can afford to wait—you know, if Mr. Schue's cool with letting us stay here a bit longer."
Their adviser thinks about it for a moment. He glances at the boys, then at Rachel, before nodding. "Just be careful."
"Dude, what the hell?" Noah mutters to Matt. "What are you doing? Shut up."
"I'm just being nice," Matt says defensively.
Mike is quick to nod his approval, shooting Rachel and Noah a grin that the former finds almost suspicious. "Matt's right. I'm cool with waiting too."
"Easy for you two to say, you aren't driving," Noah retorts. The glances of the rest of the Glee Club are on him, though, and they all look like they're pleading for him to say yes. Except for Finn, who's staunchly avoiding their gazes. He's frowning, and it looks almost like he wants to step forward and say something, but he doesn't. He just stands there, not saying a word, but Rachel catches him sneak a glance at Quinn.
Inwardly, she sighs. And here she'd thought that Finn Hudson was done disappointing her.
Rachel adds in her own pleading look to Noah. "I'd really appreciate it, and I'm sure the rest of the club will too."
He stares at each of them, his gaze longest on Rachel's, before groaning. "Fine. Can't do anything when you're all ganging up on me like that. Hummel, Santana, you go on ahead. Berry, we'll wait in the car. You'd better hurry."
As they all leave, Noah shouting, "Five minutes max, Berry!" as he does so, Rachel makes it back up the stairs and into the auditorium, scanning the floor. It takes awhile to get to where she'd been sitting—Carmel's auditorium is ridiculously large—but when she reaches there and looks through the area, eventually, she finds her purse lying on the floor.
When she stands upright again after picking it up, she is met face-to-face with the stage. It's bare now, except for the background, and the lights are dimmed. Rachel wonders what it would be like to stand on their stage. It is such a big area, after all…there is so much she could do with it…
Overcome suddenly by a curiosity she can't quite place or understand, she tells herself that one more minute couldn't hurt as her feet drag her to the front. The auditorium looks even larger from center stage, and she smiles, observing the surroundings, imaging the lights shining…
The next second later, imagination becomes reality.
The lights go on suddenly, and she flinches from the sudden brightness. "Who's there?" she calls out, feeling strangely alarmed. Looking around and seeing nobody, she slowly reaches into her pocket, and warns in a loud voice, "I carry a rape whistle!"
She hears footsteps and whips her head in time to see a boy walking towards her from stage left. Startled, she can only watch him as he approaches, taking in his appearance—blue eyes, fine, handsome features, and hair that looks soft even from a distance. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a dark grey shirt, but she recognizes this boy. Her eyesight is excellent and after today's show, she'd know him anywhere.
"You're from McKinley High's Glee Club, aren't you." It's not a question, and he doesn't even ask what she's doing on their stage. If he's surprised to see her here, he doesn't show it, and instead, holds out a hand for her to shake.
"Hi, I'm Jesse, the star of Vocal Adrenaline—your competition at Regionals." He says it in a pleasant, if not matter-of-fact way. They might as well be discussing the weather. Despite herself, she can't help but feel impressed at his straightforwardness.
Shaking her head slightly to rid herself of initial surprise, she meets his gaze and says, in her primmest voice possible as she shakes his hand briefly, "I'm Rachel Berry—"
"I know who you are," he interrupts her, the smallest of smiles making its way to his face. It suits him, smiling. "I saw you, during Sectionals. Your rendition of 'Don't Rain on My Parade' was amazing."
Do not feel flattered, do not feel flattered….
Her expression softens, although she's cursing her lack of discipline. You, Rachel Berry, are a glutton for compliments.
"Well," she finally says, "Thank you. But if you know who I am, then you know that I shouldn't be talking to you. My team is waiting for me outside. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye."
"Wait." He grabs her arm gently before she can leave the stage. "I'm sorry, did I...offend you or something? I didn't—"
Extracting her arm from his hold, she shakes her head. "No, but as you stated yourself, we're competitors, and at this point, so close to the competition date—"
His face (it's rather expressive, she has to admit) takes on this mix of incredulous and confused, as if he doesn't truly comprehend what she's saying. "Yeah, but just because we're competing against each other, doesn't mean we can't talk."
Steel yourself, Rachel. She takes a breath. Jesse looks honest (and the fact that he's good-looking doesn't hurt either) but apart from Mr. Schue's warnings, Rachel has been in the competition circuit too long not to know the enemy's tricks…and when they're being played on her.
"Why would you want to talk with me?"
The smile widens somewhat. "Why would I pass up an opportunity to talk to a pretty, talented girl?"
Oh, he's smooth. Still, it's not the sleazy kind of smooth, and the way he's looking at her isn't at all uncomfortable. In fact, it's rather…pleasant, in a way.
"Look," he adds. "From what I've seen and heard about you, you seem…interesting. I promise not to talk about Regionals while you're here, if that'll make you feel more at ease."
It's a weird, foreign feeling that's bubbling up within her. His gaze is direct, and she suddenly feels pleasantly warm. He seems harmless enough (and his looks are, she has to admit, more than passably attractive.) And he does truly seem to want to talk to her (though for the life of her, she can't figure out why) and more importantly, he did promise not to talk about their status as competitors…and anyway, she has a rape whistle with her, so…
Rachel Berry doesn't know who this boy is, apart from the fact that he's competition (however, that's merely technicality.) But she does know that he appreciates her talent, and more importantly…he's not Finn. He's not Noah. She has no history with this Jesse person, and after all that's happened, maybe a breath of fresh air is just what she needs.
Just a minute, she tells herself, finally smiling up at Jesse. One more minute.
"So," she begins. "How long have you been performing?"
He ends up walking her to the parking lot. She ignores the stare of the three boys who are waiting outside the car and when he asks, she gives Jesse her phone number. He promises to call with that small smile/smirk that's cuter than it's supposed to be, and as she walks to Noah's car, she can't help but feel a little bit giddy.
Noah's standing by the door to the driver's side, looking annoyed, and from the corner of her eye, she can see his glance narrow as Jesse walks away. "Thanks for waiting," she says to him with a smile as they all slide inside his car and she takes a seat beside Matt in the backseat. Mike's in front, and his expression mirrors Matt's—quizzical looks.
Noah gets in and slams the door. It's quiet for a few seconds as he starts up the engine. "Is nobody gonna say it?" Noah finally calls out, glancing at Mike and Matt before sighing and looking at Rachel. "Fine, I'll do it—what the hell, Berry?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Noah," Rachel replies, folding her arms, but despite herself she can't help but smile a little anyway.
"You tell us to wait for a minute to get your purse, and you pick up a guy instead? And not just some guy, but a Vocal Adrenaline guy?" he snaps as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Dude, that is so wrong on so many levels."
"I don't know why you seem so upset, Noah," she tells him, honestly confused. "Jesse was merely being nice, and I was just doing the same thing."
She folds her arms. "And for the record, I most certainly did not 'pick him up.' Honestly, you're making him sound like a hooker or something."
Matt and Mike burst into laughter. Noah scowls.
"He's competition," he stresses. "The competition is never 'nice'. Backstabbing and manipulative, yeah, but not 'nice.'"
"You don't even know him!"
"Like you do?" he shoots back. "You just met the guy. Come on, you two, back me up here—tell Berry she's insane."
"Rachel already knows we think she's insane—in the nicest possible way, of course," Mike replies, exchanging a grin with Matt. "Seriously, dude, I don't get your problem. They were just talking."
"Last I checked, Rachel can talk to whoever she wants," Matt adds. "I don't know what planet you've been living in lately, but this is America. Land of the free, and all that."
"Exactly," she says firmly. "Look, I'm sorry you had to wait so long, I lost track of time. I am fully aware of who he is, and for your information, we didn't even talk about Regionals or our setlist at all for the duration of our conversation."
Taking a breath, she adds, "And more importantly, it was just a chat. Nothing more. I doubt he'll even follow through on his promise to call me, so there."
"You even gave him your cell number?"
"Noah." Now she's beginning to get annoyed. His reaction is surprisingly violent—probably due to the fact that he had to wait so long—and it's wrecking her good mood, and she does not like it one bit.
"I'm just saying," he replies with a shrug. "It's weird and pretty suspicious. I mean, seriously Berry, think about it: What other reason would a guy from the other team have to talk to you if it wasn't to get some dirt on us for Regionals?"
His words are like a slap.
Matt is shaking his head. Mike is muttering, "Wrong thing to say, dude." And Rachel...
Rachel's mouth is set in a thin line as she glares at him, extremely offended. "It may have escaped your extremely limited scope of thought, Noah Puckerman, but there are actually people who appreciate me because of who I am, not because of some hidden agenda," she informs him, her tone cool as ice.
"It was just a chat. You are grossly overreacting and blowing this whole thing out of proportion for no understandable reason, and I am done discussing this topic with you." And with that, Rachel stares out the window and stays silent, determined not to say anything more until she arrives home.
It's outstanding how quickly tension can seep inside a vehicle. Add a generous helping of ridiculously slow traffic to that, and you have one very uncomfortable car ride.
(After she's made a name for herself on Broadway and has a few awards under her belt, maybe Rachel can make a cookbook. Rachel Berry's Recipes for Awkwardness--now there's a title that could be very promising.)