AN: Sorry this update has take so long too! Sadly, my summer hasn't had all that much free time for fic-writing. Don't worry, I'll definitely keep this story going. The breaks between chapters might just be a bit longer than I'd like.

Also - I'm participating in the ArTina Ficathon, organized by the uber-talented troubadette, so I'll be working on that too. I've got a great prompt, so I hope you guys will put me on your author alert so you can read that one when I finish it.

Without further ado - Miss Santana Lopez, HBIC!

Santana stared at her computer screen moodily. What the hell did I do to get this dubious honor?

A bright pink Evite, covered in blinking, shimmering gold stars stared back at her. The words "You are cordially invited to a Berry Karaoke Extravaganza!" screamed back at her in bright yellow lettering. It frankly hurt Santana's eyes to even look at it for too long, and she could only imagine that Berry chick's all-too-peppy, sing-songy voice chirping those words.

Santana skimmed the rest of Rachel's mumbo-jumbo about the party being the perfect opportunity to combine Sectionals prep with wholesome fun and rolled her eyes skyward, cursing her momentary weakness at what she had thought was Glee's last meeting – when they sang "To Sir, With Love" for Mr. Schue as a last hurrah. Why, oh why did I have to open my big mouth and say that stupid sappy thing about not hating everyone?

One sentence – one sentence, and now all those freaks in Glee felt absolutely free to invite her to their get-togethers. Santana had better things to do than go to some Kumbaya sing-a-long. She had to train for cheer camp, she had parties thrown by popular kids with pilfered booze to go to, she had cute boys to do. Fuck, she'd rather sit and watch paint dry than be seen at Berry's house.

She minimized the Evite and reluctantly opened the next email in her inbox, simply titled "Glee" from Tina. What fresh hell would this be? There was nothing in the body of the email, only an attachment. Santana double-clicked on the little paper clip icon, and a picture popped open. A picture of the whole Glee club at Regionals, arms slung around each other, right before they went on stage. Santana couldn't help but smile, just a little. There she was, grinning widely, one arm tightly wrapped around Brittany's waist, the other slung over Kurt's shoulders. Brittany's arm was around her too, the other hand making bunny ears over Rachel's head. Santana snickered. Berry was going to bust a nut when she saw that.

Santana glanced over her shoulder at the picture of the Cheerios that she had framed on her bedside table. All 20 of them in one line, hands uniformly on their hips, skirts perfectly ironed, frozen smiles all the same. Plastic smiles.

She glanced back at the Glee picture on the screen – Mike's half-closed eyes, Artie's one hand grasping Tina's hand, the other making a "rock out" sign, Puck's smug grin, Finn's goofy one. It was a kind of blurry, imperfect picture. But Santana couldn't deny that they all looked….happy.

Santana chewed on her bottom lip. Deep down, she had to admit that it wasn't a moment of weakness that made her say that she didn't hate the Glee kids anymore. She had to admit that it was the truth – as unpopular as it would make her if it became common knowledge.

She couldn't, just couldn't let it become known that she actually enjoyed the company of the Glee kids, that she actually preferred Glee rehearsal to Cheerios practice. She wanted to pee her pants from pure fear less in Glee rehearsal – that was for sure. But…to be honest, she preferred Glee because she preferred singing. And because everyone at Glee was…genuine. Weird, maybe. Annoying, definitely (especially Berry). But, genuine. And unique. Which was more than she could say for those lemming Cheerios.

Santana couldn't quite pinpoint when it was that her opinion of the Glee kids started to change. But she couldn't deny that she was…well, less bitchy to them now. She was at the very least indifferent, if not actually nice to them. Santana would kill anyone who dared try insinuate that she was actually friends with those freaks, though. As if. All she did was try to make their lives a little less miserable…if only so she wouldn't have to hear them whine about it in Glee rehearsal.

Like…like that time when she saw some nameless freshman jock, slushie in hand, making a beeline for Tina. So Santana grabbed him by the shirt, pressed him up against the lockers and kissed him silly. S, she took his slushie from him as a "thank you" for cementing his reputation as a stud in school (it was common knowledge that if you made out with a hot upperclass chick, you were automatically cool for the next four years). She did it so she wouldn't have to endure Tina's super-annoying, totally-lame sad face in rehearsal, right? Right?

And the time she shoved another Cheerio up against the bleachers for daring to even say that Mercedes was fatter than the rest of the team put together and clearly didn't belong. That wasn't a personal thing. It wasn't as if Santana actually cared about Mercedes's feelings. Mercedes was a Cheerio, and they were a team. You don't make fun of your teammate, period. That's all there was to that, right? Right?

Santana couldn't quite shut out the little voice in her head that was saying "All this justifying is starting to feel a little…fake."

What if…what if I actually like these losers?

Santana knew that she'd hit rock bottom though, when she defended Berry of all people. She was getting all hot and heavy with Todd, the totally smokin' Junior basketball player last month when, in the midst of swapping spit, he'd paused to comment on how she had the best ass at school (well, duh), and that she shouldn't waste her pretty on Glee. He followed that with some snide remark about her being careful not to let "that ugly, scary Jew freak" rub off on her.

Santana had actually taken the time to climb off of Todd and say "Her name is Rachel. And she's not all that bad." Santana could have sworn that the world was about to end or that aliens had taken over her body, because she pretty much doesn't stop making out for anything or anyone…much less someone she absolutely did not care about. Right?

Santana sighed and begrudgingly re-opened Rachel's Evite. In the "Attending" section, she saw listed: Finn, Mercedes, Artie, Tina, Kurt, Mike, Matt, Quinn, Puck…and Brittany.

What the fuck?

Santana was the last holdout – the last one to respond. Puck was fucking going. This was so not his scene. And Brittany…whom she was pretty sure never made a decision without consulting her.

But…if Brittany was going. And Puck was going…then it couldn't be so bad, right? Santana's finger hovered over the "Accept" button. Karaoke did sound like fun. And Tina had written a note saying that she'd bring home-baked cookies. Tina's cookies were the best cookies Santana had ever had – and she had a month before cheer camp to get into shape, one or two cookies wouldn't kill her. And Artie had written a note offering to bring his PS3 and Rock Band. Santana loved Rock Band. And with this crowd, she was sure she could bully them into letting her sing lead.

Santana clicked "Accept" decisively. Who the hell was she kidding? She loved Glee. The singing, the dancing, Mr. Schue's ridiculous assignments, the freaks, all of it.

But if anyone asked her if she hung out with the loser Glee kids over summer, she'd deny it to her grave.

I hated everyone in this club.