Upon arriving on campus, Brittany noticed how right Sam was about Harvard being different. Everyone looked at her judgingly. Some laughed when she carried Lord Tubbington out of her car. Her first day on campus did not improve much when she went to get her informational packet from the designated area. When she inquired about the events calendar, the young man helping her was sarcastic as fuck. Despite that, she is happy to have gotten a chance to meet some people thanks to an ice breaker activity she was participating in.
"Okay. Welcome to law school. This is the part where we go around in a circle, and everyone says a little about themselves."
An awkward and shy student with green eyes and a thick Irish accent is the first to take his turn.
"My name is Rory Flanagan. I have a Masters in Scottish Literature, a Ph.D. in Biochemistry, and for the last 18 months, I've been de-worming orphans in Somalia." Rory says.
"Awesome. What about you?"
"Hey. How you doin'? I'm Dani Harper. I got a Ph.D. from Berkeley in Women's Studies, emphasis in the History of Combat, and last year, I single-handedly organized the March for Lesbians Against Drunk-Driving," says the brown-eyed-tattooed girl with blonde hair and brown roots growing in.
"Killer."
"Thanks, Good times," she adds with a killer smile that shows off a dimple.
"Hello all, My name is Brittany Pierce. I have a Bachelor's degree in dance from UCLA. I was president of the Zeta Lambda Nu. Before that, I had early admission to MIT for having scored a perfect score on my SATs. I am a certified math genius. I am the creator of the Brittany Code. Some consider me to be one of the greatest minds in a generation. It is also suggested that Stephen Hawking, my biological dad, stole his Brief History of Time from my fourth-grade paper that I sent for him to read. I once gave fashion advice to Beyoncé."
Everyone in her assigned group was speechless.
The following day, Brittany examines her carefully selected outfit. She is wearing a navy pencil skirt, with a white button-up shirt. A khaki blazer and some black pumps finish off her outfit. Her hair is curled and in a neat ponytail. Her hair is light but perfect. She smiles at her work.
"I look the part." She says happily.
She turns to look at Lord Tubbington. "What do you think?" She asks him.
He looks at her and hurries his head into the cover.
"You're right; I need to add glasses to complete the look."
With that, she makes her way out of her apartment and begins to walk to campus. Her heels clatter as she makes her way down the hallway. The sound is enough to cause people to look at her. She smiles when several people follow her as she makes her way past them. Soon, she spots Sam looking at a bulletin on one of the walls near her classroom. She considers her approach but ultimately decides to pass him, pretending not to see him. Her plan works as she catches sight of her and calls her name.
"Brittany?" He says with confusion.
She smiles and turns around to acknowledge him.
"Sam? I totally forgot you came here."
"What are you talking about? I'm sorry. Are you here to see me?"
"No, silly. I go here."
"You go where?"
"Harvard. Law school."
'You got into Harvard Law?" Sam asks in shock.
"What, like it was hard?"
When he doesn't respond, Britany rambles excitedly about her plans for the two of them and how she is planning a mixer before abruptly ending the conversation, telling him that they should talk after class. She instructs him to meet her at the benches.
Brittany is taken back when she enters her first class. Students rush past her and quickly find their seats. The only one on the left is in the front row, where she sits. Then, not even a second before school starts, a tall, blonde woman with short hair enters the classroom. Her pose demands attention and everyone gives it to her.
"The legal education means you will learn a new language. You will be taught to achieve insight into the world around you and to sharply question what you know. The seat you have picked will be yours for the next nine months of your life. And for those in the front row, beware."
Brittany swallows hard, feeling uneasy about her first Professor, Sue Sylvester.
"The law is reason free from passion. Does anyone know who spoke those important words?"
No one is brave enough to raise their hand except for Rory Flanagan and another individual. Rory raises his hand high above everyone else with confidence.
"Yes?"
"Aristotle." He responds confidently.
"Are you sure?" Professor Sylvester asks.
Rory appears to question himself but insists that he is sure of his answer. He quickly answered that he would bet his life on it before saying he is unsure if he would sacrifice someone else's life.
"I recommend knowing before speaking. The law leaves much room for interpretation but very little room for self-doubt. You are right, though. It was Aristotle."
Brittany barely hears a girl congratulate Rory on knowing the answer before she hears the professor call in her about an assignment she was unaware of. Professor Sylvester was not at all happy she was unprepared and much less for the reason Brittany offers for not being prepared.
Brittany watches in a panic as fear settles in the pit of her stomach as Professor Sylvester looks over the searing chart. Her eyes follow the older woman closely as she approaches a young-blonde haired-hazel-eyes woman with a bob cut with a beautiful face.
"Tell me, Quinn Fabray, do you think it is acceptable to be unprepared?"
"No, I don't." She hears Quinn respond in a fake sweet voice.
"Would you, Miss. Fabray, support the notion for me to excuse Miss. Pierce from my class until she is prepared?"
Quinn smiles at her with a sweet smile. Brittany can see through the fake kindness and glares at her daring her to say no.
"Yes, I do."
With Professor Sylvester and Quinn Fabray looking at her expectedly, she begins packing her stuff and making her way out. Brittany quickly decides she doesn't like this Quinn girl in the back of her mind.
Brittany walks quickly to the benches and slams her bag into the bench ignoring everyone she passes in her way there. She can feel her face hot from the anger and shame she feels. She rolls her eyes and makes faces as she replays the events that occurred moments ago.
"Ugh!" She exclaims
"Excuse me, Brittany, was it? Are you okay?" She hears someone ask her.
She smiles, recognizing the voice, but the smile fades away as she remembers why she's frustrated. She turns around and looks at Santana.
"Do they put you on the spot like that all the time"
Santana smirks at her. "The professors? Yeah, they tend to do that. Socratic method."
"If you don't know the answer, they're just gonna lock you out?"
"I see you have Sylvester."
"Yes! Did she do that to you, too?"
"Eh, depends on who you ask. I would say I walked out because I deserved a little bit more respect. She would say she put her foot down and kicked me out." Santana offers with a smile.
Brittany chuckles.
"She did make me cry once."
Brittany looks at her with a raised eyebrow.
"E-except not in class. I waited. 'Til after class. I waited until I got to my room," Santana stuttered out.
She can quickly see that Santana regrets telling her that piece of information.
"Tell anyone, and I'll deny it," Santana says with a stern look that only makes Brittany smile more at the empty threat.
Brittany offers her extended pinky to Santana, who looks at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Your secret is safe with me. Pinky Promise."
Santana locks eyes with Brittany. Brittany can't help but drown in Santana's brown eyes. The gaze makes Brittany feel vulnerable and naked. She looks down, momentarily regaining her composure. It is then she feels Santana's warm pinky wrap around hers.
"Pinky Promise."
"Sylvester is pretty tough."
"Great," Brittany says unenthusiastically.
"Don't worry, though; it gets better. Who else do you have?"
"I have Shue, Bieste, and Figgins."
"Yeah. Let's see, speak up on in Schue's class. He likes people that are opinionated. In Bieste's class, try to get a seat in the back. She tends to spit when she talks about product liability. For Figgins, make sure you read the footnotes 'cause that's where he gets a lot of his exam questions from."
"Right. Wow, I am really glad I met you."
"Likewise."
"Do you want to," Santana starts to ask a question before Brittany's attention is redirected to a blond young man approaching them.
"Hey, Brittany."
"Sam!" She greets before she momentarily looks back at Santana. She thanks her for all her help and makes her way towards Sam.
"Hey, Sam."
"Hi, Brittany. How was your first class?"
"Oh, it went well until this horrible girl tried to make me look bad in from of the professor. No biggie, you're here now. How was your summer?"
"Good. It was good." He says with a smile.
"Did you do anything exciting?"
A slender arm with a big rock in their ring finger wraps around Sam's strong shoulder. Brittany's eyes follow the arm as its owner is revealed. But, to her dismay, it is the girl that got her closed out of class.
"Hey, have you met Quinn?"
"Hello, I am Quinn Fabray."
"You know her?"
Sam shifts nervously. "Uh, she's…."
"I am his fiancée."
Brittany's eyes flicker to the ring on her hand, but she is sure she misheard things.
"I am sorry. I just hallucinated. What?"
"Yeah. Quinn was my ex-girlfriend from high school. We got back together at my grandmother's birthday party."
"Sam told me all about you. You are famous at our club, but he did not tell me you'd be here." Quinn says as she looks at Sam angrily.
"Babe, I didn't know she would be."
Red alarms start to go off in her head as reality sets in. This was not part of the plan. Brittany only got into Harvard to be the girl Sam wanted. She moved across the coast so she could get Sam back. Feeling the need to get away, Brittany cuts their interaction short before making her way to her car.
She replays the entire scene in her head and scolds herself for being so naive. Why did she ever think this was a good idea? Brittany had not anticipated another girl in Sam's life, much less another woman. They had, after all, only broken up a few months ago. But, unfortunately, things were not going as planned. Brittany is upset.
As she makes her way downtown, she spots a nail salon.
"Perfect," She says before making her way there.
Brittany knows that she probably looks like a hot-ass mess and that Brittany couldn't get through the door fast enough. So when she does, she sits at the only available nail technician station.
"Are you available?" Brittany asks, on the verge of crying again.
The nail technician lowers her magazine. Brittany sees a blonde, heavier woman who reminds her so much of her mom, putting down the donut she'd been eating.
"Rough day?"
"Rough doesn't even begin to describe it."
"Spill."
"I worked so hard to get into Harvard. I blew off Greek week to study. I hired a small-time director for my admissions essay. I did all I could to get here to follow a guy I love only to find out he's engaged to that awful girl, Quinn Fabray. I just wish-I wish I had never gotten into Harvard."
"After going through all the trouble to get into law school."
"He's engaged! She has the 6-carat Harry Winston on her boney, unpolished finger. What am I supposed to do?"
"Well, you're asking the wrong girl. I've been with my guy for eight years, and then one day it's, "I've met somebody else. Move out.""
"Oh no. That's terrible."
"Dewey kept the trailer and my precious baby, Rufus. I didn't even have time to throw him a birthday party.
"No," Brittany said in disbelief as she looked at the picture of the dog shown to her.
"I mean, what's a girl to do? He's a guy who followed his pecker to greener pastures. I am a middle-aged high-school dropout who's got stretch marks and a fat ass."
"That's terrible."
"Yep, it happens every day. So, what's this Quinn girl have that you don't have. Three tits?"
"She's from Ohio. A small-town girl from a respectable Christian family."
"Is she as pretty as you?"
"She could use a new wardrobe and maybe a new haircut. Other than that, she's not unfortunate looking."
Their conversation is cut short when a delivery guy enters the store. Brittany watches with curious eyes as he and the blonde woman look at each other with longing. Looking at him while still working on her nails causes the blonde woman to spill the acetone. Just as soon as the moment started, it was soon over.
"Are you sure this guy is the one?"
"Definitely. I love Sam.
"Well, if a girl like you can't hold on to her man, then there hell isn't any hope for the rest of us. What are you waiting for? Steal the bastard back."
Brittany smiles widely at the idea. She could do that. She is intelligent, pretty, and much nicer than that Quinn girl. She could totally steal Sam back.
Brittany is sitting in her class, ready to put a new plan into action. The new determination has put a jump in her step. Not only that, she has a new friend and a new salon to visit whenever needed.
Her attention shifts back to Professor Schuester, who has now entered the class.
"I should warn you that in addition to competing against each other for the top grades in this class, you will also be competing for one of my highly coveted internships spots next year, where you will get to assist on actual cases. Let the bloodbath begin. Now, let's commence without with the usual torture. Miss. Pierce, would you rather have a client who committed a crime malum in se or malum prohibitum?"
Brittany considers both. In her ideal world, crime doesn't exist. In her perfect world, everything good exists and nothing more. Everyone would live in harmony. The world would be a better place.
"Neither," she responds happily.
"And why is that?"
"I would rather have a client who's innocent."
The laughter that forms because of her response reminds her too much of her high school days when everyone, including her, believed she was nothing but a dumb cheerleader. It still stung a little to be laughed at. All the years let her laugh along with others to mask the pain she felt. Today was no exception.
"Dare to dream, Miss. Pierce. Miss. Fabray, which would you prefer?"
"Malum prohibitum," Quinn says as she turns to look at Brittany pointedly before continuing, "because then the client would have committed a regulatory infraction as opposed to a dangerous crime."
"Well done, Miss. Fabray. You've obviously done your homework."
Brittany watched as Quinn rubbed Sam's shoulder with jealous eyes, purposefully flaunting her ringed finger. She raises her hand.
"Yes, Miss. Pierce?"
"I changed my mind. I'd pick the dangerous one because I'm not afraid of a challenge."
She smirks and challenges Quinn with a raised eyebrow. No one thinks much of it, but Quinn and Brittany both know the game is on.
The weeks turn into months. Brittany and Quinn often try to outdo the other with grand gestures as they try to convince their classmates that one of them is better than the other.
Apart from Paulette, the nail technician, Brittany still doesn't have friends. However, she remembers Santana's suggestion to join a study group. Maybe finally joining one would help her make some friends to study with.
She spent all morning baking muffins and stopped by to get some bottled iced coffees. Surely, she wouldn't have a problem finding people to group up with.
She entered the library building that she admittedly hadn't visited as much as she should have. It was packed with many students on a Friday night, to her surprise. She smiles when she spots Sam with Quinn and others and approaches them.
"Hi, everybody."
"Brittany, what are you doing here?" Sam asks.
"I can join your study group. Look, I brought sustenance." She takes a muffin out and offers it. She almost has it accepted when Quinn shows up.
"Mhm-mhm. Mhm-mm. Our group is full." Quinn doesn't bother with pleasantries.
"Is this an RSVP thing?"
"It's more like a smart people thing. As Quinn said, we're full." Quinn's friend chimes in just as rudely.
"Guys, can't we make room for one more?" Sam asks.
"Outlines have already been assigned. The answer is no."
"Oh, okay. I'll just leave them." Brittany says with a smile. There is no way she's going to crack in front of these people.
"Hey, maybe there's like, a sorority you can join," Dani says with a fake Valley girl accent.
Brittany isn't one to usually be mean for no reason, but she's had it.
"You know, if you came to a rush party, I would have at least been nice to you."
"Is that before you voted against me and called me a dyke behind my back?"
"I actually voted for you, and I don't use that word. You probably heard it from Quinn."
When Saturday arrives, Brittany realizes how depressed she is. She's got no friends her age, and she can't remember the last time she had a meaningful conversation with someone other than Santana at the beginning of school.
"I should've asked for her number. She probably is a lot of fun to hang out with. Next time." She says to herself before she dials Tina's number."
"Britt!"
"Tina!"
"Guess what I'm doing right now?"
Brittany can hear the excitement in her voice. She can faintly hear Kurt in the background.
"I'm picking out my wedding dress!"
"What?"
"Mike proposed!"
"Did you get the rock yet?" Kurt asks after having successfully taken Tina's phone.
"Almost." Brittany lied with a fake smile.
"Well, hurry up so you can come home. We miss you!"
"I miss you guys, too. The people here are so vile."
Brittany gets interrupted by Tina.
"Have June first open. You're going to be a bridesmaid. I'm getting married! I'm getting married!"
"I forgot to tell you! I joined the gym. I have got some biceps, girl."
Brittany hears a loud tumble before Kurt tells her he'd call her back since Tina has fallen.
Her attention is quickly diverted to Quinn's voice as she overhears a party invitation being given out. A party sounds perfect.
"No way! Someone in this school is actually having a party?"
"Yes," Quinn's sidekick answers.
"But it's a costume party. You probably wouldn't want to come."
"I love costume parties." Brittany corrects.
"Well then, I guess we'll see you there."
"Okay."
A genuine smile appears on Brittany's face. Maybe she had read Quinn all wrong. Maybe she and Quinn got started on the wrong foot.
Brittany loves dressing up. She loves parties. She had spent the whole day picking out the best costume. As the night nears, she grows more excited.
That excitement however disappeared quickly when she arrived at the party.
Everyone was laughed at her when she showed up. Quinn and her friends had a smile of satisfaction. She wanted to run out, but she turned around.
"Thanks for too about the costume party, Quinn. I see you decided to come as a boring-stuck-up-Karen."
Brittany smiled when Quinn's smile fell from her face, and everyone gasped.
Not one to be insulted, Quinn bites back.
"I'd rather be a boring Karen than to be a dumb-as-rocks blonde who is dressed as if she works at a strip club. I am sure your dance degree will be much more suited for that career. Have some respect for yourself, realize that Sam is mine, and go home and change out of your skanky outfit."
"For your information, not that you would know because you're such a prude, but I am," Brittany says as she puts on some glasses she retrieves from her clutch purse," Gloria Steinman, circa 1963, researching for her feminist manifesto, A Bunny's Tale. Are you really calling Gloria Steinman a skank?"
"Who is calling Gloria Steinman a skank?" Dani shouts out, looking at Brittany, Sam, Quinn, and her friends.
"She is!" Brittany points to Quinn, who turns and leaves, but Dani follows her berating her. A few others follow them.
Everyone else's attention refocused on what they were doing before the incident. Finally, Brittany approaches Sam, who is smirking at her.
"Brittany, you should have worn that when we were going out. You look hot."
Her heart skips a beat, and her mood brightens at the compliment from Sam.
"You should have asked. I would have gladly worn it for you."
"I still can't believe you're here."
"You wanted to be with someone serious. I wanted to show you that I am serious."
"You aren't serious. You get kicked out of class all the time, you don't have a clue what everyone's talking about, and you say odd things sometimes."
"I got into Harvard just like everyone here. You and I both know I'm smarter than most people. If I put my mind to it and study, I can be better than anyone here. You know that."
Her subsiding anger and butterflies were quickly replaced by sadness. She now knows what she had been afraid to admit.
"I am never going to be good enough for you, am I?"
She did not wait for an answer and turned to leave the party. She already knew the answer.
She'd tried for months to make these people like her. She tried and tried again to make Sam love her. It was now clear that these people didn't deserve her friendship, and even though it broke her heart, she realized she would never be good enough for Sam.
She wasn't the problem. That much she knew. She just wasn't what he was looking for. After all the years they spent together, Sam still didn't believe in her. She'd transferred from MIT, had gotten a perfect SAT score, and had proved her worth as a mathematical genius before transferring, but he never cared to remember that. He didn't see her for who she was or what she was capable of. He only saw her as a warm body to pass the time. Brittany could bet that he would never believe she got a perfect score on her LSAT either. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had gotten into law school for all the wrong reasons, but that needed to change.
Brittany moves along with the computer box under her armpit. This laptop purchase was long overdue. She loved taking notes by hand because she wrote them with Crayons, but if she was going to rise to the challenge, she was going to need to be more serious.
Brittany was minding her own business, not caring about the funny looks on people's faces when they saw her costume when someone clears their throat behind her.
She rolls her eyes when she sees Santana.
"Don't ask."
Santana smirks and holds her hand up in mock defense.
"Bad night?"
"Obviously."
"It's cute," Santana says pointing to her costume.
"Duh," Brittany says as she playfully rolls her eyes; her smile betrays her.
"Next," They hear the cashier say.
"Guess it's your turn," Santana says as she nods in the cashier's direction.
"Seems so," Brittany says as she turns around and has small talk with the cashier as the older lady processes her transaction.
Santana smiles as she watches the interaction shaking her head.
When Santana exits the store, she sees Brittany sitting solemnly on the bench. She decides to approach her.
"It's Friday. You shouldn't be looking so sad,"
"This place sucks. "
Instead of saying anything, Santana sits down, encouraging Brittany to continue with her presence.
"I came to Harvard for a guy I love, but he's already moved on. I have no friends. Everyone is mean. My grades aren't the best. I hate it here, and I want to go home."
"Hold up. Take a step back. You got into Harvard for a guy?"
"I did. I studied my ass off to get into this school even though I don't care about law. I love fashion, dance, and mathematics. What was I thinking? I followed love, and now I look like an idiot in this stupid costume. I'm so stupid."
"It's a cute costume. It's not stupid, and neither are you. Brittany, you got into Harvard. You don't even care about law, yet you got into one of the top law schools. That's amazing. I bet you're some kind of genius."
Brittany can't fight the shy smile that appears on her face. If only Santana knew how true that statement was.
Santana noticed a shiver and quickly takes off her extra jacket and wraps it around Brittany, whose smile only grows.
"You looked cold," Santana says with a smile, remembering how she said the same words weeks ago.
"Thanks," Brittany responds with a blush, "you're always keeping me warm."
"Maybe you should have listened to my warning about the weather," she teased.
"Maybe. Why did you get into Harvard?"
Santana bites her lip, thinking it over before she begins, "My Abuela got deported when I was younger. I rarely got to see her growing up because I could only visit her in the summer. One day, my parents hired a lawyer. That lawyer was able to help my Abuela come stay with us permanently. Ever since that day, I've wanted to be a lawyer, and so, here I am."
"Wow, that's so cool. I am happy for you."
"I wish my dad would agree with you. He wanted me to be a doctor like him. But, when I told him I wanted to be a lawyer, he refused to support me. So, I busted my ass to get where I am. Three jobs in addition to class."
"Three jobs?!"
"Mhm," Santana says, nodding, "That's right, girl. Bartending, waitressing, and advertisement work. There may or may not be two commercials on air in some states. You ever heard of Yeast-I-Stat? I'm in their commercials."
"Wow! A local celebrity. I do need to have you in my Fondue For Two YouTube series."
"Count me in," Santana says with a beaming smile as she accepts the invitation.
"Score," Brittany says excitedly under her breath.
Santana finds the whole thing adorable.
"In all seriousness," Santana says instead of what she's thinking, "I am glad I had a chip on my shoulder. It motivated me to work harder and to be better. As my Abuela would say, "I need to be more than the world is ever going to give me permission to be." Maybe you need that."
"A chip on my shoulder?"
"So to speak. Show all those lame losers your worth. You are better than them. They just haven't seen your full potential. You got into Harvard, Brittany. Show them how badass you can be. Show them your worth."
Brittany swallows thickly under Santana's intense gaze. Something about the deep chocolate eyes staring into her makes butterflies go crazy in her stomach. Her eyes flicker to her full lips, and for the first time, she has this urge to kiss them. Her heart skips a beat when she sees Santana lick her lips as she looks down at hers.
A ringtone breaks their moment. Santana picks up her phone while still not looking away from Brittany. They were having a moment.
"Yeah, yes. I will meet at the office in 5."
Brittany looks down with a blushed face, needing to calm down.
After another minute, Santana ends her call.
"Brittany, I am so sorry."
"No, you don't need to apologize. Go. I'll be fine. I have to go look up those Yeast-I-Stat commercials anyway," she says with a smile.
Santana rolls her eyes, "Oh, God. I will see you around."
Brittany nods, and the two go their separate ways. Brittany used one of her hands to hold the jacket tighter around her body.
"Maybe Harvard isn't so bad," she thinks to herself as she makes her way to her dorm room.
Maybe Santana was right. Maybe she just needs a chip on her shoulder. Brittany is tired of all her peers underestimating her. She is determined to be her awesome self. She was going to give everyone the metaphorical middle finger and show everyone how wrong they are about her by getting one of those internships.