I pull up to McKinley almost 2 hours before school starts. I have to come up with a lesson for glee club next week, seeing as today is Friday, and I have to finish grading all of these quizzes my class took Monday. When I pull into my normal spot, I see that there is another car there. There are a lot of bags in the back of the car, almost like they are moving. Weird, Figgins should be the only other person here, but this is definitely not his car. Maybe one of the students came in to use the library or something. As I walk towards the door, I notice what looks like a Cheerios uniform on the ground by the side of the Senior Rock. The closer I get, the more I realize that there is a person in the uniform, and the more I realize that the person is a sleeping Santana Lopez.
"Santana" I say shaking the thin, freezing cold girl lightly as to not startle her. She wakes up in a panic.
"Hey Mr. Schue, why are you here?" she asks
"Santana, did you sleep here?" I question the girl who clearly is not yet aware of her surroundings. She looks at where she is and her face changes from a look of confusion to a look of hurt and pain.
"No, I've only been here for a couple of minutes. I was just really tired after yesterday and am still a little sick, so I guess I must have fallen asleep." She says avoiding eye contact with me. That clearly means she is lying.
"I have a huge math test today so I came early to use the library, but the school was locked.", Another lie. Unless she has been here for more than an hour, the school would be open.
"Santana, the school has been open for over an hour. What's really going on?" I ask her seriously. The only response I get is the girl who I thought was unbreakable and could handle any insult or situation thrown at her, bawling into her hands. I wrap her in my arms and we sit there for a good ten minutes, her sobbing the entire time. Not wanting to push her, I walk her into the school and ask the shivering young girl if she has a sweatshirt that I can get her. She tells me that she has one in her car, and I take her keys and run out to get it. I soon realize that the car with the multiple duffel bags belongs to her, and things begin to make more sense. I grab her the first warm sweatshirt I find, not wanting to invade her privacy too much, and rush back into the choir room where I left her.
As I hand her the black, oversized sweatshirt, I ask her "Santana, did you lose your house?" She shakes her head and, between sobs says "No, my p-p-parents kicked me out."
She again begins sobbing uncontrollably, and at that moment I make the decision that this young, broken girl will live with me and Emma, whether she wants to or not. I will not allow her to sleep outside, or even in a car, ever again.