Rachel Berry, Meet Your Sister: Chapter Thirty-Five
Glee isn't mine.
This chapter is dedicated to Jimena, whose review made me laugh for quite some time. Also, to everyone else who reviewed. Merry Christmas all :) Please enjoy xx (Also, just so you know, it's my birthday today – 24th of December – so this is a highly auspicious day for posting a new chapter. Additionally, this also means that all of you have to review. It's a requirement. Toodles!) (Second additional point is that I got this amazing chair for my birthday so I'm writing all of this chapter right now and it's going really well because this chair is phenomenal.) (Third point – my birthday is Alice in Wonderland themed. You should be jealous.)
JO POV
Turns out that Brittany's parents are totally fine with Santana and Brittany being together, which is great. Really great. I couldn't be happier for them. (False. I could be happier for them – for instance, if they suddenly won the 62 million dollar lottery, or if Brittany finally saw a unicorn, et cetera.) Santana comes back to the car bouncing with excitement at every step and practically vomiting rainbows of joy. I have her confused with Brittany for a second, but then I see Brittany and she is four more times excited than Santana and the natural order of the universe is restored.
Okay, I know that it sounds like I'm not happy for them but I really am. Really, I am. It's just that my natural tone is sarcasm – it's my first language people. Also, I'm not used to baring emotions to people so I say hilarious and witty things rather than truthful, honest, you know touchy-feely crap.
Anyway, I agree to help Santana move her things to Brittany's house – boy was that a mistake. I have no idea why I agreed to do that. I should have known that it would involve sneaking and clothes. Lots of clothes. Seriously – I feel like I am drowning in the amount of clothes that surround me, that Santana is flinging at me from her closet.
"Fuck!" Santana turns at my exclamation and hisses at me to stay quiet (she doesn't know when her dad is coming back) and I stubbornly swear again. "Fuck that, Santana. Do you know how much that fucking hurt? Fuck!" (Sometimes I add swear words just to antagonise people) I rub my forehead. "You hit me in the head with a shoe, San. I'm probably bleeding." I pull my hand down to check and inspect my fingers, put them back to the wound site and check again. "Am I bleeding?"
She strides over (I can practically feel her rolling her eyes) and grabs my hand, ripping it away from my forehead so that she can inspect the site. She ums and ahs over it for a minute before jabbing me hard with her finger. I pull away and slap her hand away from me, recoiling. She sneers at my wounded expression. What. A. Bitch.
"Oh stop being such a baby, Jo. You're fine. Now stop complaining and start packing." I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her and, avoiding her pile of 'fucking hot clothes' (which I have dubbed the pile of 'naughty seductive clothes'), I start folding her shirts.
After a minute she slows what she is doing and glares at me. "What are you doing?"
"Folding."
"Ugh, no." She strides over to me again and grabs a handful of clothes, shoving them into the bottom of the bag. Then she hands the bag to me. When I don't take it, she thrusts it into my hand. "Come on Jo, just pack. We don't have much time."
Feeling my soul fragment with every unfolded item I unceremoniously stuff into the bag, I continue to work her way. Finally, Santana is done and I look at the four bulging bags in the centre of her room.
"And you want me to help you get these down that flimsy tree of yours – which, may I remind you, I almost died climbing up?" She nods, arms crossed like that will help convince me or intimidate me. "No. No way. I'm not risking my neck – literally my neck – to help you do something stupid like that when there are perfectly serviceable stairs right outside your door. "
And with that, I fling the door open dramatically and attempt a storm out but, laden with two bags as I am, I get stuck in the doorway and it takes a second of seriously clever manoeuvring to get out.
After a moment (during which she was probably laughing at me) Santana follows me out the bedroom door and we make it to my car with no troubles. Actually, that's where the trouble begins. My car is a nice size; I would even go so far as to say it is a very decently sized car. However, with the way that Santana packs, we are never going to fit the bags in my car.
"Santana!" She pauses, back straining against the suitcase she is currently attempting to fit into the car. "Move." Strangely quiet and obedient for once, Santana moves. I crack my neck and the joints in my fingers slowly and thoughtfully as I figure out how to fit the bags in. "Okay," I say with a nod of my head. "Let's do this."
Six and a half minutes later we are in the car and on our way to Brittany's. I'm feeling good. Once again, I have proven my immense genius. I'm kidding. It's just been a good day (and I'm still slightly invigorated from that pot 'o coffee).
And so, naturally, the universe conspires against me and ruins it for me.
We arrive at Brittany's and start to unpack – that's fine. We finish unpacking and Brittany and Santana begin to haul her bags into the house and that is when my phone starts ringing. I freak out. Why? Possibly because the last time my phone rang, it was my best friends calling because they were being attacked by a homophobic dick-wad. I think I may be slightly afraid of phones now…
"Answer your phone, idiot." I shake my head no so, naturally, Santana snatches the mobile from me and answers the call. "Hello, Jo Corcoran's phone." She listens for a moment before handing the phone to me with a simple, "someone called Shelby. Come inside whenever."
I think I must have nodded because Santana and Brittany leave and I stare at the phone for a long moment before putting it up to my ear. "Hello?"
"Josephine! Finally. I though we might have been disconnected." Shelby tuts and then, without giving me time to make an excuse or greet her, moves on. "Was that your girlfriend?" Her words are slightly cold but I can tell that she is making an effort to remain polite and, to be honest, it's more than she's done in a while for me so I'll take that. I'll take anything I can get from her. She is my mother. (I think Rachel's upbeat, positive attitude has rubbed off on me. I'm becoming…nice.)
"No. That was Santana. She's just a friend." Shelby hums on her side of the phone and I wait for her to speak. When she doesn't start to talk immediately, I begin to wander down the street. There is a tiny little bubble of hope in my stomach – maybe, just maybe, she's called just to talk to me. "Was there something that you wanted, Shelby?"
"Oh no. Not really." I feel a responding smile grow. She does just want to talk to me! "I just wanted to tell you that I'm so pleased with you and proud of your hard work." I blink. Wow. I don't think she's ever told me that before. I guess Leroy or Hiram must have told her all about my tutoring. "And to tell you that, since you are doing so well, I've decided to come down sometime next week to see Rachel. Okay then, well, I have to go now." And she hangs up.
I don't know how long I stand there for but it is Brittany who comes to find me.
"Hey Jo," she starts.
"Hey Britt." I automatically respond. The words feel heavy though, and I almost don't remember to open my mouth to say them.
"Mom wants to know if you want to come in for dinner." I consider the invitation for a moment before shaking my head. I don't think I'll ever be hungry again.
'I've decided to come down sometime next week to see Rachel.' The words play over and over in my head. This isn't good. Oh, sure, the conversation was pleasant enough, especially while I thought that she was actually proud of me and not of the fake brainwashing I've supposedly been doing to her actual favourite daughter, but I won't kid myself. She hasn't changed at all and this is a very bad thing that is about to happen. No matter what happens, it won't turn out well. Great. (Sarcasm.)
"Jo?" Oh. Brittany's still here. I vaguely realise that I'm patting her shoulder and then that I smile at Santana who is standing a pace and a half behind her girlfriend before getting into my car. God, that would have been ghastly. Have you ever been given a half-smile by someone who is distracted? They are so gross. They are like, well, this little upturn of the lip in a fleeting movement and it's sort of like a less aggressive snarl – it's not attractive.
Anyway, there are other, more important, things to worry about than my face when I smile (unattractive as it may be). I have to worry about Shelby. And Rachel. And Rachel's reaction to Shelby. And Shelby's reaction to Rachel. And my reaction to Rachel and Shelby together, which may not be pretty. Oh god…
SANTANA POV
"Was that weird for you, Britt?" Jo just left after patting Brittany and giving me the weirdest smile. My girl nods and I take her hand for a second, squeeze, and let go again. I'm trying my best to be good for her, but there are some things I still need to work on. I mean, now that some people know that when I take Britt's hand it's because I love her, it feels like everyone knows. I'm just not used to it yet. Plus, there is this creepy guy with a telescope that lives opposite Britt's house and she tells me that it's because he likes the stars but I don't trust him.
Britt smiles at me when she realises that I'm glaring at his house and I put Jo and her weirdness (and that guy) out of my mind. Jo is clever and strong; she'll be fine. And that guy…I'm probably just being paranoid.
I walk Britt back into her house and am surrounded instantly with an atmosphere I wish had been at Casa Lopez. It is warm and loving and smells delicious. I've only ever found this feeling in two places – here, with Brittany in her house, and strangely enough at Berry's house. I think it has something to do with the amount of baking that goes on there. I guess, well, I wouldn't really have ever wanted this feeling at my house because then Brittany's home wouldn't have been as special. Brittany – yes. Her home – maybe not.
Still, do I wish that my family had been a little more like Brittany's? That they'd actually loved me? Yeah. I do. But I love this – Sunday at the Pierce's is family night and, well, I'm family now so I get the red piece, Brittany is yellow, Daddy Pierce is blue, Mom Pierce is white, and Child Pierce is pink. I roll first. (Just so you bitches know, I totally won the first game. And I would have won all the other games but Britt told me to let her sister win a few because she throws some seriously epic tantrums.)
It isn't until the following weekend that Brittany rolls over in bed and, resting her chin on my shoulder, frowns at me.
"What's up, Britt?" She just keeps frowning so I wait. I know Britt. She'll take a little while to figure out how to say what she wants to say and who to phrase it perfectly.
"San?" I will now say that I am nervous and antsy. She sounds sad. Oh god. What have I done wrong? I move so I am sitting up against the headboard and take one of Brittany's hands. I tug her gently so I can hold her against my side. I run through everything that has happened this week and urgently try to figure out what I've done wrong so that I can fix it. I'm about to apologise for wanting to sleep when she wanted to watch the Fox and the House the other night when she says, "San, I'm worried about Jo."
I relax—thank god. Britt isn't breaking up with me. I didn't do anything wrong. And thank god she isn't hurt. Or upset about anything big. Then I tense again. I think everyone knows that Brittany sees things that other people don't or can't and it's stupid not to listen to her. And if she's worried about Jo – Jo, who always tries to hide everything bad from Brittany because she loves her – then I should be worried as well. Fuck.
"Why are you worried about Jo, Britt?"
"Have you seen her?" She asks. I shake my head no. "She's lost weight and she's not happy in class and she cancelled movie night on Saturday even though we were all free and I don't think she's slept in days." Britt grips my pyjama top tightly and snuggles closer. I feel her pouting on my chest and shun the dirty thoughts. "I'm really worried, San."
I stroke her hair off her face and smile. "Well then, we'll just have to have a little chat with her, won't we?"
Britt, reassured, falls asleep straight away. I don't; I can't. Now that Brittany has brought it up, I can't help but rethink everything in the last week that has happened – for the second time tonight. Admittedly, I'm looking for something different. Ever since that phone call she's been acting really strange, so I suppose that's when all this started. Jo's been missing from lunch every day, she's not focused in Glee, she looks ill all the time with pale skin and deep purple bags under her eyes, and Britt is right that she's lost weight. She looks awful. How on earth could I have missed it?
I don't like the answer that comes to mind but it's right. Brittany. I didn't notice because Brittany is always on her mind. It's not a bad thing but…
Britt brushes her lips over my collarbone and sleepily places her hand over my face. "Stop thinking, Sanny. Go to sleep," she groans. I take her hand and her advice. I'll talk to Jo in the morning.
JO POV
I wish I have my own theme music. That would make sneaking around the place and avoiding people while intensely thinking a hell of a lot more fun.
SANTANA POV
I don't know how she does it. I mean, I can see Jo sitting there and I can hear her talking to Britt and helping her with the English homework but it's like my eyes just slip over her when I try and focus on her. I think she's magic. Fuck that – she's drugged us all. That is the only reasonable conclusion.
When I try and grab her and talk to her after class, she slips away and into the horde of unwashed masses. Brittany frowns after her and shakes her head.
"It's not going to work your way, Sanny. She just won't listen to us." I nod. "We need to do this my way." I start to nod and then stop.
"What's your way, Britt?" She leans towards me and whispers a brilliant plan in my ear, which I tentatively put on hold. "Maybe. It's a good plan," I rush to say when she pouts (which makes her laugh for some reason), "but maybe save it as a last resort." She nods, thankfully, and we stroll off to the next class together. It's Maths with Quinn so Jo is, of course, tutoring Puck and, therefore, is nowhere to be seen.
Quinn greets us with a nod, not quite looking at us, and I groan. "Not you too." She frowns – in that way of hers that says 'tell me what you mean or die' which makes me fucking love her (as a friend, you dirty-minded freaks) – and I shrug. "Jo's being weird. And now you're sitting there all distant and shit? Not cool." I grab my nail file and start working on perfection.
"Jo's being weird?" Brittany nods. I think I'll let her tell Quinn all about it while I catch up on sleep that I missed last night while doing…other things.
"San." Bitch Quinn jabs me in the shoulder and raises one brow.
"Does that," I point at her eyebrow and smirk, "turn people on?" She blushes and I nod. "Yeah it does. Work it girl." She rolls her eyes but can't deny that she wants to smile. "Smile, bitch. You know you want to." I jab her in the cheek – payback! – and she slaps my hand away.
"Enough! I was just saying that it's lunch time and if you want to find Jo then you'd better start looking. But whatever, bitch." And with that, she swings her bag into me, pushing me to the floor and probably breaking my wrist into a billion pieces. For some reason, it doesn't hurt as much as it should and Brittany tells me I probably just bruised it. I don't think so. That bitch fucking wounded me.
Anyway, I'm limping around the campus all lunch time (why am I limping? Because I'm wounded. Limping is necessary. Plus, people give all kinds of free crap to wounded people) and Jo is nowhere to be found. That bitch is insane. I mean we have looked everywhere. Let me put it this way – if there were ever a hide-and-go-seek world competition, Jo would win it. Hands down. No doubt about it. We have been looking for ages. She's like a sneaky ninja; she's the sneakiest ninja that has ever existed.
"She's like a ninja!" Britt sighs as she sits on a bench. "Sanny, we'll never find her." Looking around quickly, and seeing that no one is around, I give her a quick peck on the lips.
"We'll find her. Don't worry. And if we don't, then we'll do your plan, kay?" She nods but I can tell that she's still miserable so I put out my hand, wiggling the fingers, and she twines our hands together. I go to pull her up but she pulls me down to her lap and hugs me tightly to her. I don't bother struggling – no one can see us, right? And she's so strong and soft and awesome and… you don't really want to hear the rest of these thoughts. Let's just say that they become slightly R rated and explicit and totally awesome but they're about my Britt and no one gets to know anything about Britt-Britt but me.
"Come on." Britt stands and we link pinkies. "Let's go to some more classes, let Jo ignore us the whole time, and then get whatever is bothering her out of her at Glee." We walk in silence until Britt comes up with this gem.
"There's something inside of her? Does she need help getting it out?" Yeah, that stick up her ass that is making her into a bitch. This is why I love Britt. She takes everything so literally sometimes.
Anyway, thanks to that conversation, Britt keeps asking Jo what she has inside of her and how she can help her get it out – Jo, with her eyes of fire, is apparently blaming me for this train of thought. I did nothing except for encourage this to the extreme. But, like I thought, Jo manages to dodge us like a pro until Glee – where we corner her and begin our interrogation.
"What the fuck is up with you, Jo?" Her deflection tactics begin.
"San, it's not a big deal. Can we just sit down?" Her pleading face begins and Brittany steps forward, a scowl on her face.
"Listen missy – you'd better tell us what you know or we'll start with the rough stuff." That gets a bit of attention from people like Wheezy and Lady Face and I turn to Brittany, frowning.
"Are you the bad cop, Britt?" She nods, now smiling. I lean in to whisper in her ear. "I thought I was bad cop. You know, because I'm totally a bitch." And she starts pouting. Great. "No, no, that's okay. You can be bad cop today." She beams at me and then her smile disappears into another scowl as we turn back to Jo.
"Look, Jo. We just want to talk." I try to smile kindly but I think it comes out a bit predatory. I'm not used to being…nice. Brittany, lacking a desk to slap, hits her fist onto her palm.
"Tell us what we want to know, Corcoran!" Jo grins at my girl and shakes her head.
"You guys are getting super worked up over this. Look," she shrugs. "It's not a big deal, okay?" Even as she says it, I can see her eyes flickering which means that it is totally a big deal. What a liar. "Okay, you want to know what's going on?" We both nod. "Alright, the truth is that-"
"Alright, everyone out!" Damn you Sue Sylvester! She's standing there, hands on hip, bullhorn blaring in out ears. Rachel screeches and covers her ears – no doubt competlely prepared to start attacking Coach Sue about the dangers of loud noises in enclosed spaces and the affect it will have on her ears. "Your intensely hair-gelled, simpleton of a teacher has been suspended. You can send gift baskets to myself and your Glee advisor Jo Corcoran. Now get out of my school." As she turns and strides away down the hallway, making sure that the door slams as loudly as possible, we all turn back to Jo. She is looking, and rightly so, a mite terrified.
"So that's what this was all about? You were freaking out because you didn't know how we'd react to you stabbing Mr Schuester in the back?"
"How dare you?" Kurt squeals. Mercedes makes a disgusted face – she's good at that. Brittany just looks disappointed.
"What? Did you think that we'd take pity on you because you're so obviously distraught about this?" I look her up and down. Actually, she doesn't look too sick anymore. That shit was probably all an act. I'm about to totally spew all kinds of insults all over her but Rachel just destroys her. She steps into Jo's line of sight, eyes all teary, lower lip trembling, and shakes her head.
"How could you, Jo? You know how much Glee means to me."
"Woah, guys, lay off will you?" Karofsky – sorry, Dave – steps in front of all of us and turns to face us, effectively hiding Jo behind him. "It's not that big of a deal."
"What would you know?" Kurt snipes at him and Dave frowns.
"I know that Jo is cool and she doesn't deserve this shit."
"Well, we all know that Jo is a backstabbing bitch." I spit. Couldn't help it. I mean, she asked me what I how I would feel if Mr Schue was gone. Sure, he's a bit weird sometimes and his rapping majorly sucks, but she asked me and I told her that we loved him. Didn't that mean anything?
Jo doesn't say anything. When she leaves, she looks grey and small and it sucks. She deserves it completely but Britt and I were worried about her and I can't help but still be worried about her. What a bitch. Dave leaves right behind her – going back to their place to plot and plan and scheme how to further ruin us, no doubt – and Britt takes my hand. Nothing more to say, I suppose. Glee is ruined.
Remember to review – it's my birthday so it is required, as I said before. Much Christmas joy to you all and, as always, happy reading, readers :)