Rachel Berry, Meet Your Sister: Chapter Thirty-Six
Glee isn't mine.
I wanted to say that I very much appreciated each and every one of the lovely reviews and birthday wishes and Christmas wishes (I do celebrate Christmas and I passed on Hanukah wishes to my Jewish friends) that you all gave me. I hope that each and every one of you had a phenomenal Christmas/holiday – with all the laughter and cheer and presents and family that you wished for. As always, please enjoy my story. (And if there is anything wrong with it, I apologise. I was watching my new Doctor Who box set at the same time. I know, so wrong of me. But so wonderfully right at the same time, don't you think?)
RACHEL POV
Dad and Daddy are furious with me. I can't believe this. I will have you know that before Jo arrived I had only ever been grounded once. Once! And since she swept in, all tall and mysterious and clever, I've been grounded twice. In just a few months.
Technically speaking, I suppose one might argue that it's my fault. The first time, I was grounded quite thoroughly because I yelled at Jo and used foul language, so that was fair enough. Today though – this is all her fault.
Daddy sent me to my room to 'think on what I had done this afternoon and how I could fix it'. Quinn was sent to her room as well, which, may I add, is entirely unfair. I mean, seeing as we've done everything together today shouldn't we be permitted to consider our wrongdoings together also? I think that's fair.
With this firm defence in mind, I sneak – no. Not sneak. I am completely justified in my actions. Therefore, I walk slowly and quietly - only because that is what I feel like doing right now – out of my room, down the hall, and to Quinn's room. I rap lightly on the door and wait a beat for an answer. When one isn't immediately forthcoming, I rap again. No answer. I let myself in, slightly worried.
No need to be, of course. The inconsiderate girl is wearing headphones and reading a magazine. I fight the overwhelming urge to splutter with indignation. How dare she? She isn't even bothering to pretend to consider the strife we're in.
"Quinn!" I gasp and stamp my foot. And she has the sheer audacity to raise her brows at me. Well I never! One day I am going to flick those eyebrows – that's what she's going to get for that. "Quinn Fabray," I start my scolding (although, admittedly, a quiet scolding. I wouldn't want to trouble my fathers) even though I am well aware that she is wearing her headphones. "How dare you entertain yourself when you know very well that Dad and Daddy told us to consider our actions? The nerve it takes to blatantly disregard their demands shocks me!"
Quinn raises her brows – again! – and tuts. "Rachel Berry! How dare you enter my room when you know very well that your Dad and Daddy told us to consider our actions separately? The nerve it takes to blatantly-" I roll my eyes and hold up my hand.
"Yes, thank you. I understand. Mimicry to make a point, haha, very amusing." Quinn grins unabashedly and pats her bed enthusiastically.
"Well then, come and sit with me silly. We'll face the fearsome hordes together when the time comes."
She offers me one of her earphones when I plop down next to her, which I decline. Sharing earphones transfers innumerable numbers of bacteria. Quinn shrugs and leaves it out as she flicks slowly through the magazine. I sit quietly next to her, enjoying the company. I suppose that my silence gets to her thought because after only a short while she closes the magazine and peers at me.
"Can I assist you with something, Quinn? Perhaps you have something in your eyes that you need removed?" She pokes her tongue out at me and shoves lightly at my shoulder. "You're being very childish." She shoves me harder and I roll right off the bed and onto the floor with a heavy thump. We lay still for a moment, hoping that my fathers didn't hear anything.
"Hurry and get back up here," she hisses to me after a second and I glare at her.
"If I'm down here when they come up, I have a far better chance of hiding under the bed and, therefore, I will not be removed from your place of habitation." Quinn rolls her eyes and huffs.
"I'm cold, okay? Now get up here. If they aren't up here already, they aren't coming up. Now move it, shorty!" Grumbling under my breath, I do as she commands and she shifts so that we are sitting quite close together. It's getting a little hard to breathe so I distract myself. I haven't really been in here since she moved in so it's nice to see how she decorated. Books, there are plenty of books, and the desk that was in Jo's room is covered in books and papers and things. There aren't any posters though, or photos, which surprises me. I would have thought that Quinn, Queen of McKinley, would have plenty of photos of friends and family. The quilt on the bed is cute.
"Are you okay, Rach?" Quinn murmurs lowly and I turn to catch her watching me closely. "I know that you can't be happy with Jo having Mr Schue suspended." I shake my head.
"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" She stares peering at me again but then shrugs. I smile. Child. "So, have you spoken to your parents?" Quinn shakes her head. "I mean, the house can't be being fumigated for this long, can it?"
"Why, Berry?" She smiles to take the sting out of what used to be an insult. "Getting sick of me already?" She smiles more but I can tell that she is genuinely worried. That's one thing I've noticed about Quinn, something I never ever would have thought possible. She's self-conscious. And shy. Quinn Fabray, the most popular, most beautiful, most amazing girl at McKinley High and, quite possibly, all of Ohio, is shy and self-conscious. I never would have believed it possible if I hadn't seen it myself a few times.
So, naturally, I reassure her. Squashing the immediate response of 'never! I'll never get tired of you if we lived forever' and just smile and shake my head. Sometimes, I feel it might be necessary to restrain my own dramatics. I rather think that Quinn wouldn't appreciate the level of adoration I would give to her if I allowed myself.
"Good." She smiles very slightly – this one real – and shifts against the headboard to find a more comfortable seat. Something I've wanted to say for a while itches in my mouth and makes me say it.
"Quinn, is there something you want to tell me?" Her eyes flicker to me and away and I offer my best supportive smile. "You've looked after me quite a number of times since we have become friends and helped my with Jo and I'm feeling spectacularly useless. I want to help you, Quinn." I take a deep breathe. "I googled fumigation and the process and a few tactics that can be used to ease the process and make sure all furniture and personal belongings are safe, so that I might be able to inform you or your parents."
As I say this, Quinn stiffens and finally she turns to look at me. "And?"
There are so many things that I want to say: 'I can't believe that you would lie to me' is a major one, except that I can believe it, considering we haven't exactly been friends for an extended period of time, 'fumigation only takes a week' but I don't want to push her, and 'I know that my fathers extended an invitation lacking a time frame to you so I know that it isn't just the alleged fumigation that keeps you away from your house'. But I can't say any of this because I don't want to lose Quinn. I don't want to push, for quite possibly the first time in my life.
So instead, I just say, "You should do your research first." The silent 'before you lie to me' falls more heavily than I expected it to so I dispel it with a smile and shrug. She sighs.
"You mean before I lie to you?" I very deliberately don't move and pretend that I haven't heard her. I'm not sure why, exactly, except that I know that she wants to say something and I am doing everything that I possibly can to make that easier for her. "Rach?" I glance to her quickly but, utilising my extensive and remarkable acting abilities, give her no more of a reaction than that. "My house isn't being fumigated. I've been living with Santana, not just sleeping over at her place, since the start of the summer. My parents…" She sighs again and her face closes over.
"You don't have to tell me," I whisper. "I just wanted you to know that if you wanted to talk about it I was here for you. Am here for you." She grins at me and nudges my shoulder with hers.
"I know that. I trust you." Something about that comment makes us both quiet. I don't know why she is quiet but I certainly know why I am. I'm overwhelmed. I can't for the life of me figure out how we went from mortal enemies to…this. Not that it's a bad thing – no. It is far from bad. I feel comfortable and protected and excited and breathless at times and energised. I feel like I'm five again and I'm going on an adventure. I feel like I'm in front of a crowd and I have just performed the most marvellous performance of my life – except that the crowd is made of just one person and Quinn is it. And that frightens me. But I trust her too. How can I not? Admittedly, sometimes at school I flinch when she walks towards me in the hallways (more so when Santana does it because Santana still wants me to flinch, usually, just for fun) and I can't believe that she will eat lunch with me and that she's made me off limits simply with her presence but it never occurred to me that she wasn't trustworthy. Through all of this I knew that I could trust her. I don't know why; I just know.
Suddenly, interrupting my extremely important thoughts, I hear a knock at the bedroom door. "Girls, you'd better not be having a heart-to-heart because I want you downstairs in two minutes. Got it?"
Quinn and I share an uncertain glance, wondering if it is a trick to get us to admit that we're together in her room, and Dad huffs.
"Two minutes! And Rachel, next time you sneak out of your room, please do try not to sing a sneaky theme song. It gives it away a little." His footsteps fade down the corridor and Quinn rolls her eyes.
"Really, Rach?"
"I…" have nothing to say. "I was not aware that I did that."
"Really? You sing in your sleep and you didn't think that you would sing in tense, important moments of your life? Listen, Rach, I say this as a friend but your brain thinks that everything that happens is an excuse to burst into song."
"I know. I trained myself to find music and expression at every opportunity." Quinn laughs and rests her head on my shoulder.
"Can I tell you something?" she murmurs. I nod against her hair and she sighs shakily. "My parents aren't like yours." She stops me from ranting about having the only gay parents in Lima by grabbing my hand. "They don't love me like yours love you. My parents loved me like a painting or, I don't know, a house. They loved my because I looked pretty and they could show me off to people." I can't say anything to that – what are you supposed to say to that?
I jump off the bed and walk around to her side, where I offer her my hand. She takes it, laughing and wiping at her slightly wet eyes, I yank her up and engulf her in a 'Rachel Hug'. She squeaks – understandably. Rachel Hugs are the greatest things in the world. After a moment, she picks me up and spins me around before dropping me.
"Come on, let's go downstairs before your dads thinks we're doing something inappropriate." She accompanies her statement with a lascivious eyebrow waggle and so I smack her and flounce away and down the stairs…
Only to stop and stare because my fathers, the Pierce parents, Santana and Brittany are waiting for us in the living room. Santana and Brittany look thoroughly scolded and are pouting on the couch so Quinn and I scurry over to join them. I hesitate when I reach them but Santana just shifts closer to Brittany and Quinn pulls me down so I am sitting between her and Satan. Santana crosses her arms and raises a brow at the united team of parents.
"So? What are we doing here? And why are you all looking at us like we killed a truckload of puppies?" Brittany gasps and Santana, without looking at her, takes her hand and pats it until the blonde calms down.
"Well, Santana, the reason we're looking at you like," Dad frowns and purses his lips but says it anyway, "you killed a truckload of puppies is because we are very disappointed in all of you." Now Daddy interrupts.
"What on earth were you girls thinking? Jo has always been on your side, you know that." Dad and Daddy are looking at me with such disappointment that I want to duck my head and hide for days but I stay strong because this time it really is Jo's own fault. So I say exactly that.
"It's Jo's fault, Daddy!" They won't let me say anything else though and frown deeply at us.
"Really? Rachel, Jo has been nothing other than a wonderful sister since she arrived here and I think that you take that for granted far too much." Dad scolds before turning on Quinn. "And Quinn, Jo was the one to ask Principal Figgins to lessen your suspension when you assaulted her. She was the one that convinced him not to expel you so you most definitely owe Jo a small debt, a modicum of respect or friendship. I'm very disappointed in both of you."
Daddy takes over now. He's very good with Jewish guilt. "I think you both need to think long and hard about your actions because you haven't been very nice to Jo. It is easy to be a good friend or sister when nothing is wrong but it is much harder when the going gets tough. But we are family, Rachel, and family sticks together. Quinn, you aren't family but I expected you to be a better friend than you have been." Quinn flinches at that and ducks her head.
Dad and Daddy sigh and step back, allowing the Pierce's to step forward.
"As for you, Santana, Brittany. We are also disappointed." Mrs Pierce makes an extremely disappointed mother face that makes both Brittany and Santana squirm in their place. I have to remind myself that she isn't directing it at me, but then I'm fine. "Jo has always been on your side. Brittany, she has been with you day and night making sure that you understand all your schoolwork. She has gone above and beyond what she is being paid for to make sure that you will graduate and to be a friend to you and you throw it in her face the very second she does something you don't approve of." Brittany opens her mouth to respond but her mother holds up a hand and Britt is silent.
Then Mr Pierce starts to talk. "Santana." She won't meet his eyes. "We aren't your parents but you do live in our house and we love you very much. Because of this, we feel that you need to hear all of this as well. Jo has been your friend, as she has been Brittany's. She has helped you with your work on many an occasion, when she certainly didn't have to, in addition to helping you when you needed it the most without question." Santana slowly sinks into the couch next to me and I notice the death grip she has on Brittany's hand.
I feel that it is my turn to stand up for my new friends, seeing as they won't stand up for themselves. "This isn't fair!" All eyes turn to me and I set my jaw stubbornly. "You won't even hear our side of the story." Dad and Daddy exchange a look and nod to one another. Then they look to the Pierce's, who also nod, and as a unit they take their seats opposite us.
"Tell us then, Rachel. Why did you all gang up on Jo?" I hurriedly organise my thoughts and, standing from the couch and folding my hands in front of me demurely, I nod to them.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." I can practically hear Santana rolling her eyes but I continue nonetheless. "I appreciate all the comments that you have made regarding my sister, Jo, but I have an argument to counter you." Dad and Daddy are well used to my way of discussing a topic and Dad nods, waving his hand to urge me to speak.
"Proceed, Rachel." I nod my thanks to him.
"As you know, Jo has worried all of us extensively in the past week. She has looked ill and tired," I ignore my fathers concerned looks and continue because I know that they will, as we did, realise the truth. "However, we discovered that this was merely an act designed to garner sympathy and to disguise the truth. Upon entering the Glee choir room this afternoon, we discovered that Jo had, treacherously and under the cloak of betrayal and deceit, succeeded in having our very own and beloved teacher Mr William Schuester suspended from work. We also discovered that she had been in cahoots with the evil Coach Sue Sylvester." I nod slowly and make a pleading gesture towards the gathered adults that they will understand why we did what we did.
"We had no choice," Santana interjects. I feel my lips tighten and I turn slightly to face her.
"Santana," I hiss, "could you please not interrupt? I'm delivering my speech." She raised one hand (the other still tightly gripping Brittany's) in surrender and crosses her legs. "Thank you." I turn back to the parents. "As Santana pointed out, we had no choice. Coach Sylvester made it clear that Jo had betrayed us, me, a member of her own family. As you stated before, this is not something one does to family." Daddy considers this point with a half-nod and a sceptical expression so I hurry on to my finale. (Admittedly, this isn't the best speech I've given but I'm rather proud of it considering that I made it up in a matter of moments.) "Jo is a secretive, manipulative person. I love her very much but she went too far today by ruining Glee and for that reason, the members of New Directions had to expel her from the group as the advisor. It was necessary."
"Rachel," my daddy says slowly. "You said that it wasn't fair that we wouldn't hear your side of the story." I nod. Is he going to admit that he was wrong? "Did you wait to hear her side of the story?" I gape for a moment. "Or did you jump to conclusions and mow her down when she tried to protest?" I slump back onto the couch and try and sort through my memories of the scene.
"We mowed her down," Quinn says immediately. Santana and I (although we are nothing alike) turn slowly towards her, glares ready. What is with that girl? Doesn't she know how to lie to her parental figures? Has she never done it before? (In saying that, I also have never lied to my parents. However, I do know how to lie to my fathers. I am quite proficient in lying – it is, after all, just another form of acting.)
"And what were you thinking? Ganging up on her like that?" My dad asks. I'm quite confused by now and I raise my hand straight up into the air. My dad sighs. "Yes, Rachel?"
"May I enquire as to why you believe that you know what happened this afternoon? It is my firm knowledge that you were not present."
I don't like this. Dad and Daddy share smirks with the Pierce parents. The four of us girls cringe. I hate it when parents think they have the upper hand because they usually do, more often than not, when they look like that.
"We asked Mrs Puckerman over for afternoon tea while you girls were all separately considering your actions." Daddy directs the last part of that statement towards me and Quinn. I have no clue why he would…
"Afternoon tea?" Santana frowns. The parents nod and smile. "How long have you been doing…that? Afternoon tea." She sounds a little nervous.
"Well, Santana," Mrs Pierce says, "Leroy, Hiram and I have been friends for quite some time. Brittany and Rachel were in the same dance class when they were younger." You don't have to remind me, I think, my pride still slightly bruised from the fact that Brittany far exceled me at such a young age. That being said, I am very proud of my friend.
"You don't really pay much attention to us oldies," Mr Pierce chuckles. I like him. His eyes crinkle when he laughs, much like Brittany's eyes. He seems to be very kind. "You're all wrapped up in yourselves and in each other and your own little dramas so we sit and watch you all and then we talk about you behind your backs at our afternoon teas. Leroy made a very nice lemon sponge cake for this afternoon."
"Can I have some?" Brittany asks very quietly. Santana's head turns to her girlfriend (am I even allowed to think that? I know that they are together but…out? I don't think so) very quickly and her ponytail smacks me in the eye. I very wisely don't comment, but I grab Quinn's hand so I don't react and blink the tears away. Quinn pats my hand until I give her a smile to let her know that I'm okay.
"Oh, I'm sorry Brittany. We finished the cake. I have some cupcakes with lemon icing in the fridge, though, if you want some." Brittany nods slowly and Daddy hops up and out of the room to fetch some. I'm hurt.
"How come you are being so nice to Brittany? It's not fair!"
"Perhaps because she didn't accuse Jo of anything?" Dad fixes me with his 'I know what you did' look and my anger wilts. "Girls," he sighs, and I feel the need to defend us again. I jump up from my seat and glower at him, my left hand on my hip, my right hand pointing in his face.
"No, Dad! We did what we felt was right because we were defending something important to us!" At this, he too jumps up from his armchair and I can see him tensing.
"And Jo isn't important to you?" He thunders. He grabs my hand and tugs it down, away from his face. "Jo has done everything for you, Rachel."
"She's secretive and manipulative and strange."
"She is your sister!"
"She never tells me anything!"
"Why would she, if you are just going to throw everything into her face at the end of the day?"
"I wouldn't do this if I knew why!"
"Then maybe you should have let her tell you!" I pull back, away from Dad, stung. He's right. Dad's face softens and his arms come around my shoulders to pull me into a hug. I go willingly and wrap my arms around his waist. "Calm down, Quinn," he murmurs, and I hear the couch fluff a little, like she has sat down again. I guess all that yelling worked her up a little.
"Girls, would you like to know why Jo had Mr Schuester suspended?" I stay in Dad's arms but turn around so my back is to his chest, so that I can see my Daddy as well. Santana, Brittany and Quinn are also looking at my Daddy. "We wanted you to apologise to Jo because you knew what you did was wrong, not because you found out that what Jo did was right." I nod. That makes sense. But Santana holds up her hand.
"Whoa. What?" I roll my eyes and Santana's eyes cut to me and narrow. "Watch it, Berry." Naturally, I feel my innards shrivel with terror. Repeat, Poppa Berry." She adds a 'please' to her comment after a particularly hard hand squeeze from Brittany.
"We wanted you to realise that your ganging up on Jo and hurting her because you thought that she was hurting you was wrong." Santana nods. "We didn't want you to apologise because we told you the real reason for her suspending Mr Schuester, and because you realised that she did it for a legitimate reason." Santana nods.
"So, you wanted us to feel actual remorse for our actions and not just apologise because you convinced us we were wrong." Daddy nods.
"Precisely. Thank you for that." Santana shrugs.
"Whatever, Poppa Berry." Daddy smiles very slightly at the nickname and I can help but smile as well. Whatever you say about Santana, you cannot deny that she is very good with nicknames and the purpose she intends for them. (In my case, she came up with imaginative but hurtful nicknames, because she wanted to put me down. Similarly with 'Wheezy', Mercedes nickname, and 'Ladyface', which Santana actually came up with before Coach Sylvester. Also, Santana's numerous, imaginative, and also hurtful nicknames for Finn Hudson.)
"So why did Jo do it?" Quinn asks. I wriggle out of Dad's arms and flop down next to Quinn again.
"Yes. Please tell us, since you seem to think that it's oh so important." The four parents frown at one another, then at us, then at each other again.
"Do you concede that you were in the wrong?" Brittany nods immediately and Santana nods as well, more slowly, but just as sincerely. I nod as well. I still think that Jo was in the wrong but…so was I. Quinn's brows jerk together thoughtfully and finally, finally, she nods. "Very well. Hiram, if you would?"
Dad sits in his armchair again and looks directly at me. That's fair. I am his daughter, which means that he is most disappointed with me, and I am Jo's sister, which means that I should have been better. I ready myself for whatever is coming.
"I know that it wasn't Jo's intention to ruin Glee. If it was, she no doubt would have had Mr Schuester fired or, knowing Jo, found a far more interesting way to go about it." I concede that with a nod. Jo is somewhat imaginative. "In my view, Jo was doing the right thing as she saw it, considering the fact that Finn Hudson attacked her."
I huff in annoyance. "What does that have to do with Mr Schuester?"
"Rachel," Dad says, "Mr Schuester is the only reason that Finn Hudson didn't go to jail."
There is a long, long silence before Santana explodes.
"What? That vest loving, idiotic, gel-wearing, pandering, simpleton is the reason that the fucking golden boy idiot didn't go to jail? He assaulted two people. He put them in hospital! And Mr Schue got him off? I'm going to kill him!"
JO POV
Dave drives us home, I think. I'm not certain. I do know that I'm at home and I'm fairly certain that he wouldn't have let me drive in this condition. What condition? Well, my hands are shaking weirdly and my head is pounding and I have to lean against this wall for a moment before I can continue to my room.
"Jo?" He calls as I start to close the door. "I…are you okay?" I meet his eyes and smirk. "Yeah. Right. Stupid question. Do you, um, do you need me to do anything?" I tap a fingernail against my doorknob, considering his question, but shake my head.
No. I just…I need a plan. I've been racking my brain for fucking days but I have no idea what I'm going to do when she gets here. It's fucking over. Everything. My time here – she'll make me go back to New York. My time with Rachel – but I don't know how much that counts for anymore, seeing as she hates my guts.
Everything in me tells me to go, to run, to leave Rachel to deal with Shelby on her own considering the shit she just pulled. I can't believe she thought I would betray her like that. And Santana. That hurt the most. I knew that she was a poisonous piece of work but not to me. I'm her friend. Then again, am I? Was I ever? Seeing as every fucking relationship I've ever had has been a lie, I don't see why I should trust that my sister considers herself my sister or that my friends are really my friends. The only one who isn't a fucking idiot is Dave, and I think that might be just because I beat some sense into him when we first met.
I pace in my room while I consider my options.
Leave. I could do that. I have nothing that holds me here. Except for your family, my treacherous heart supplies. Sometimes I wish I could tear it out and just do what was best for me. But no, I was born a bleeding heart romantic sappy shit ball and I let myself get kicked around because I'm an idiot and I keep thinking that this time it's going to work, this time it's my turn to get something right. Shush, I tell myself. Enough of the pity party. We're planning so focus. Focus!
Delay Shelby. I could do that. I could come up with some outrageous lie. Tell her that Rachel has the monkey flu or some shit like that – Shelby hates being sick more than anything. Then again, Rachel is her prodigal daughter. She's more likely to race to Rachel's side than delay her flight.
Kill Shelby, my brain supplies. I put that in the 'maybe' pile (but that might be going a little too far. Still in the maybe's though).
Stand up to Shelby. Tell her that you aren't her little toy and you aren't letting her get to Rachel. That being said, Rachel has been such a little shit lately, maybe it would be best if she went with Shelby.
I hit my head hard with the base of my hand and scold my brain. Shelby would eat Rachel alive if she was anything less than the perfect little daughter she expected. And believe me, Shelby, I can't help but think, Rachel is anything but perfect. A tap on the door interrupts my planning.
"Um, Jo?" It's Dave. Of course it's Dave. "Are you okay?"
I yank the door open and frown at him. "Of course. Why?" I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him. Has he been listening in? Whoa. Hold your horses there, Jo. You've been talking – to yourself – inside your own mind. He has not been listening in.
"It's just that you've been muttering to yourself and laughing for a while now. Maybe you should take a nap or something. I could make you something to eat." I smile at my friend and shake my head.
"No thanks, Dave. Food doesn't solve everything." His face twists and I know that he is considering a world in which food doesn't solve everything. "But thanks for the offer." He chases his thoughts away and smiles at me. Puts his hand on the door so I can't close it on him.
"Let me know if I can help with anything, yeah?" I look up at my enormous roommate and nod. If only because if I don't tell him, he'll try to beat it out of me and now that he isn't surprised by my incredible ninja skills he'll probably be able to land a punch or two and I'm not in the mood for bruises.
"I'll let you know. Thanks Dave." He nods and takes his hand off the door. Watches me. He's probably hoping that I won't immediately close the door – that I will talk to him. He's disappointed. I just can't talk to him right now. I have to plan. I have to plot.
Unfortunately, there's not a lot that I can do and that is made even more obvious by the fact that in the week and a day that I've known about Shelby's impending arrival I haven't been able to have a single idea about how to counteract her imminent attack strategy. Also, my brain is going haywire. I do need to sleep. Doubly unfortunate for me is the fact that I can't sleep when I'm thinking about Shelby. That's the pickle isn't it. I need to sleep so I can think about how to conquer Shelby, but I can't sleep while I think about conquering Shelby because I'm thinking about Shelby, but I need to sleep so that I can – argh!
There's that tap at the door again. "Jo?" Dave asks. "You okay?"
"Dave! I'm fine!" There is a short pause and then he sighs.
"Fine. But if you don't sleep tonight, I'm drugging your tea." I frown.
"Fair warning. I'll let you know how it goes."
"Also, I heard a couple of car doors slam so I looked out the window and your sister, Santana, Brittany, and Quinn are here to see you. Us. You, probably." He pauses. "Do you want to see them?"
"No." I give him no more answer than that. I can tell he hasn't left, though, and I wait for him to say something.
"Are you going to see them anyway?" he cajoles and I snap a sharp 'no!' back at him. He takes a step back – I guess I sounded that harsh – and I feel bad instantly. He didn't deserve that.
"Can you just tell them I don't want to see them? Don't let them in, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."
Okay. In the next instalment – the girls (automatically changed to 'gits' the first time I wrote that so I was extremely tempted to leave it) arrive at the apartment and I promise you – PROMISE - that you will see Shelby again. I pinky promise. Cross my heart and hope to gain four hundred kilograms pinky promise swear. Thank you for waiting and reviews, please. I live for them. I love them. They keep me a) entertained, b) motivated, in some instances, c) extremely touched and happy and d) some of you give me some great ideas that I'm stealing so thanks muhahahaha. Over and out. Happy reading, readers :)