Here it is chapter four. This is my favourite chapter so far and the one where I think we get the most insight into the real Santana Lopez (well my version of). My 'Pilot' episode is nearly finished, there's just one more chapter to go, then I'll be moving onto the episode two - 'Showmance'. Chapter five is already written (but was late night effort so may need tweaking) but I'll try and upload that either today or tomorrow for you guys, if anyones even still reading at this point!

Glee: Season 1 Episode 1 - Pilot

Chapter Four
All I can think about during practise is how I can stop my stomach from grumbling. I tried one of these protein shakes that Coach Sue gave us, but apart from the fact that it tasted like shit it only made my hunger worse. Please just be a short session I keep telling myself, feeling my strength rapidly decrease. Finally, something goes my way and practise is over within an hour and I finally get to go home. As I walk out onto the parking lot, I hear footsteps coming up behind me.
"Hey San" recognising the voice I turn and see Quinn, but she's not alone. She's wrapped up in Finn's arms. Urgh, it's a good job I've not eaten anything, or I think I might puke. I plaster yet another fake smile on my face (seriously, I've lost count of how many times I've had to do that today) and look at the couple.
"Heyyyy" I reply. Trying my best to sound like I'm interested in the upcoming conversation.
"Finn and I are going to Breadstix. You wanna come?" Quinn asks. "You could invite Puck?" she adds nudging suggestively into my shoulder. Eww, why would I want to bring Puck I think to myself. Sure we make out and stuff, but I don't actually want to spend time with him, especially in a public place. Why would I want to do that?
"Can't sorry" I reply. "I've got to get this stuff to Britt, then we're having family dinner. It's the only time this week that both mami and papi are home at the same time" I add, slightly bending the truth. I'm not even sure what shifts my parents are working. There's a good chance I could be coming home to an empty house. I pause, waiting for Quinn's response hoping she buys my excuse.
"Okay. Maybe next time?" Quinn responds, asking hopefully.
"Yeah…next time..." I answer not really listening to what Quinn's saying, just focusing on quietening my stomach and getting home.

"Mami I'm home" I say walking through the front door, knowing that she's home from the smells coming from the kitchen. My stomach lets out one final loud grumble. 'Oh, shut it" I snap at my stomach. 'Foods coming'. I enter the kitchen just as the food is being set out on the table, I see only two places set.
"No papi?" I asked as my mother as we sit down at the table.
"No mija. He's at work" my mother replies. "I'm working a split so I'm leaving after we've eaten. Papi should be back around eleven and I'll be back in the early morning" my mother continues, although I'm hardly listening to the conversation, I'm just too busy stuffing my face and stomach. Finally, food. "'Wow, mija I've never seen you so hungry"
"Triple Cheerios practise" I reply swallowing yet another mouthful.

As soon as dinner is over my mother keeps to her word and has to leave. I do the dishes for her and decide to text Britt to see if she's in. I still need to drop these things off, and after my shit show off a day, I just need to see a friendly face.
'Hey Britt, U in? Need 2 drop some stuff off?" I finish the dishes as I wait for a reply. I turn to pick up my phone as soon as I hear it buzz.
'Can't talk. Lord T needs me. Dad will take the stuff". Eww, well that's not the reply I wanted I think to myself. I still need to drop this stuff off though. Maybe she just doesn't want to see me, I think to myself as I grab her things and set off to her house. Maybe were not best friends. Maybe what we have is too much for her. She might be mine but maybe I'm not her best friend. Can it even work like that? I try to shake the thoughts out of my head as I turn to face her house. No, I'm sure there's just a legitimate emergency with Lord Tubbington. Yeah sure he's a cat and I'm an actual person. But Brittany doesn't think like that I tell myself. Without realising it, I've pressed the doorbell and her dad stands at the door and answers
"Santana" Pierce says
"Hey Mr. Pierce" I reply plastering on what is surely my final fake smile of the day "Coach Sue wanted me to drop these off for Britt"
"Thank you. I'll make sure she gets them" Pierce responds, taking the bag and setting it down inside the house.
"Well…bye..." I add turning away. My tolerance for people who aren't Brittany has reached it's maximum for the day and frankly I can't stand small talk and set off back to my house.

Back home I let myself into the empty house and decide to watch a movie in my bedroom. Although its only 8:30pm, I'm spent after the day's events. I put on West Side Story (yes, the ice queen that is Santana Lopez likes musicals, although if anybody ever found out I'd go all Lima Heights on their ass) and turn to my closet after changing into some pyjamas. I kneel down and feel for the back and find the loose panel and pull it out. Once I've set it to the side I reach my hand in and pull out a box. I look at the wooden box and take a deep breath. This box could ruin my life, I think as I trace fingers over the engraved wooden design on top. I slowly lift the lid and look at the various different trinkets inside. I pull out a photograph and look down as a smile grows on my face. I see a picture of a young Latina. A six-year-old Santana Lopez, posing happily with a huge cheesy grin. My left foot on top of a soccer ball, mud adorns my (all bet it too big) soccer kit and I'm holding a trophy in my hands. We won the league that season. I'd ended the season top goal scorer. I went from sitting on the bench of the all-boys team, to being first name on the team sheet and being voted MVP for the season off my teammates. Little did I know that would be the last time I played soccer on a team or with the boys. Once I started the first grade, I was told by my abuela that rolling around in the mud wasn't ladylike and wasn't what we Latinas do. Hmmm, I don't think I've had a smile like that since I think to myself as I bring the photo up to my heart and hug the picture, wishing that I could hug the little girl in the photograph and beg her to stand up for herself. To stand up for what she loves. To carry on playing soccer. I pull the photograph back kissing my former-self's forehead and put the picture back in the box. I can't bare to look at another thing in the box tonight so I shut the lid, put in back in the hole and replace the back of my closet.

I jump into bed sighing as I lay my head down on the pillow. I switch my television and light off and lay in dark, silence, alone with my thoughts. I can't help but think of that little six-year-old and how open and full of life she was. She wasn't scared off being herself, of playing a sport with all the boys, off putting herself out there, not caring what others thought. What happened to her? How did she turn into such a closed off sixteen-year-old? Someone who can't even be honest with her best friends? Hell, can't even be honest with herself? She turned into the popular girl. Into a Cheerio. That's good right? That's what abuela wanted, for her Santana to be more girly. No, that's what Santana wanted…no, wants…I tell myself as I drift off into another sleepless night.