Luckily, Rachel was a dancer (and one who obsessed over making sure everything ran smoothly), so she'd already memorized the football players' dance moves and not just the girls' moves. So, sliding into the hole left by an absent Karofsky after jostling past Finn and Azimio and successfully avoiding their loud, derisive objections, she took a deep breath and waited for the smoke to rise up.
Smoothly executing the dance moves she'd only danced through once in preparation of Finn's inevitable request for her to help him run through it, she continued singing her original lines, not willing to allow her needed melodies be absent from the rest of glee club. Even if she wasn't, technically, representing the glee club, she would not let the mystique of being a… Jock…? Cloud her true allegiance.
Catching the eyes of various male and female zombies, she didn't let any of her growing apprehension show through the sagging cheek and peeling skin Santana and Brittany had expertly applied. She was a consummate professional, and even if her calf was grumbling under the compression bandage she'd wound around it, she wasn't going to ruin anything. Coach Beiste might want her for football, but that didn't mean she was going to clumsily shuffle through her clumsy zombie shuffling.
About a minute into the show, Rachel realized that Karofsky was staring at her with narrowed, furious eyes, his jaw clenching. Yes, she was taking his spot, but that wasn't her fault. He was the one who'd turned his back and forfeited his role in the performance and on the team.
Still…
Before Karofsky had caught on that Rachel had taken his place, the burly boy had been watching and scanning the show with wide eyes and a giant, eager smile on his face. Rachel had seen him. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn't give up her spot so he could run in, as that would leave a noticeable hole in the line of football players, and then where would she go?
Executing one of the locked arms, cocked wrists zombie freezing motions, Rachel's eyes slid back towards the unhappy, resentfully scowling Karofsky. Yes, she hated him for bullying Kurt, yes she hated him for the years of bullying towards herself and the rest of the glee club, but even in the height of his torment, he'd never looked so excited and – Rachel closed her eyes, shaking her head – happy?
Knowing they had about a minute and a half left of performance time, Rachel took a deep breath. Ugh. Karofsky owed her big for this. Timing the motion perfectly, she managed to duck past the two football players to her left and weaved her way to Karofsky. Glaring up at him, she crossed her arms. Before he had a chance to complete a sneer and cover up his surprise, Rachel grit her teeth. "Go," she barked.
Karofsky faltered. "What?"
"Go." Putting a hand to his arm, Rachel mentally admonished herself for this obviously awful idea, and tried to push Karofsky in the direction of the spot she'd vacated. "Get in there! There's only a minute left, and if you really want in the show and the game, you have to go now."
Karofsky stared at her. "Berry, what – ?" His eyes slid back over to the dance, his expression turning panicked and wild.
Stomping her foot, Rachel went behind his back and pushed him with both hands. "I did not give up my performance for someone who won't perform, so get out there!"
Even though Rachel really shouldn't have been able to budge him at all, the large boy leaned forward, one of his feet taking a stuttering step. As she continued pushing, he suddenly started moving forward with purpose, Rachel having to catch herself before she toppled after him. Looking down at her calf, not happy with her motions at all, she almost missed the rough, afterthought grunt of, "Thank you."
Bending down to rub her calf, Rachel lifted her head to catch Karofsky's surprisingly smooth melt into the performance, managing to do it without too much disturbance. Sighing, she tried to tell herself she did the right thing. Karofsky just looked… Happy.
A shadow fell over her, and a big hand clamped down on her shoulder, managing to pull her up with what seemed an effortless tug. "You did the right thing," Coach Beiste smiled down at her. "At the very least, it's a start towards…"
"Integration, I know," Rachel nodded. Accepting the help towards the team bench, she sat down, stretching her leg out again.
"You going to be okay?"
"Hmm? Oh. Yes." Giving Coach Beiste a smile, Rachel dropped her leg, turning her attention back to the show. She didn't want anyone thinking she couldn't play. Once she'd decided she was in it until the end, she was determined to see it through.
Beiste sat down next to her. "You know, Berry," the large woman started, able to pitch her voice loud and deep enough that she could be heard over the music and the sound of Santana and Artie's singing, "I'm proud of you for sticking with this."
The last crescendo was coming up. "Shouldn't you be telling me this after the game?" Rachel asked.
"No." Beiste shook her head, crossing her arms, "Why wait for the dance when the chickens can hatch now?" A smile crossed the coach's face, and though Rachel hadn't understood that – at all, she nodded in response, giving the (well, she guessed she was her coach now) coach an accommodating smile. Coach Beiste searched her face, then reached out to grab Rachel's arm. Her hand almost completely dwarfed Rachel's wrist, the small girl helpless to do anything but move with the direction Beiste gave it. "Look out there," the older woman ordered, nodding her head in the direction of the sea of predominantly red and white zombies, gesturing in the same direction with their arms. "What do you see?"
Rachel squinted. "The glee club and football team performing a mash-up of two popular songs for the half-time show of the championship game."
"No. Stop looking at the obvious." Shaking her head, Coach Beiste shook Rachel's arm, which in turn shook her whole body. "You're seeing cooperation. Teamwork." Dropping Rachel's wrist, Beiste frowned. "But how long will that last?"
The grand finale was only a couple of seconds away. "I don't know," Rachel answered truthfully. She'd be happy to think on that a bit later, but really, even if she wasn't in it, the show was exciting. She could feel pride in how far the glee club had grown under her tutelage.
"I'll tell you. It'll last for the game, and if we're lucky, a little after that." Suddenly morphing from their serious conversation, Coach Beiste stood up and cheered wildly, clapping with a big, proud smile on her face at the dramatic poses the glee-football zombies ended Thriller/Heads Will Roll with.
Rachel stood as well, clapping and cheering even if she knew she really should have been in there instead of sitting on the sidelines. But at least she'd left it for a reason.
"That almost brought a tear to my eye," Beiste murmured, proving the lie of her statement by wiping a tear away and having to come back to wipe away another one, "The amount of fricken' kick-ass togetherness! Maybe we actually have the gumption to pull off a win tonight. And especially now, with you on the team!" She looked down at Rachel. "You ready to show them what you got, Berry?"
Swallowing, Rachel glanced at the milling that was beginning on the field and bleachers before looking back up at the tall woman. She tried to firm her posture, forcing all pain from her calf away. "Show them what, Coach Beiste?"
"Your position as the Titans' new wide receiver, of course!" Slapping Rachel's back hard enough that she squeaked and swayed forward, Beiste shook her head and started off in the direction of the boy's locker room, "Get with the program, Berry! Locker room, five minutes. I don't want to see you late or you'll owe me ten laps!"
Sucking her lower lip into her mouth before she remembered the amount of make-up on it, Rachel squared herself, took a deep breath, and was about to take a step forward towards the locker room when two hands suddenly settled on her waist from behind, pulling her back into a strong body.
"Rachel!" Brittany chirped in her ear, "I'm so happy to see you alive! I thought maybe one of the zombies had eaten your brain and hidden your body under the bleachers, leaving you to rot all alone, wondering why we were dancing without you." She squeezed Rachel tightly, causing an automatic blush to travel up Rachel's neck; she was relieved no one could see it beneath her make-up. Was it something about the football uniform that was making Brittany so… Handsy?
"Hello, Brittany," Rachel greeted politely, deciding not to fight the hug. Brittany did have wonderful hugs. "I'm happy to be alive as well, and happy that you acknowledge my love of performing. Especially with glee."
"Even if you selfishly think you deserve all of the solos," Santana appeared, stepping around Rachel's side.
"But I'm better than both of you," Brittany nodded. "It's Brittany, bitch. Not Santana, bitch or Rachel, bitch. …Brittany …Bitch."
"B, I'm the bitch." Santana held up a hand, stalling both Rachel and Brittany's response, "Don't make me go all Lima Heights Adjacent on your asses. Because you know I will." Effectively staring both Rachel and Brittany down, Brittany settling into the hug she was giving Rachel, Santana nodded, satisfied. Then, she stared at Rachel, finally rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed breath. "So, you're really going through with this."
Aware of Brittany settling her chin on one of her shoulder pads, Rachel nodded confidently. "Yes," she answered, certain, "I've thought about it, and even if I must admit I'm a little frightened at the thought of encountering the rest of the football team, I know this is something I need to see through."
Santana narrowed her eyes at her. Rachel found herself holding her breath as she waited for the ex-cheerleader's response. Finally, a slow, almost smug smirk crossed her face. "You know, I almost find this too funny to believe." Gesturing at Rachel's outfit, Santana shook her head, wild hair moving with her. "I just… A hobbit playing football. Boys football. You just can't stop being a fricken' prima donna, can you? You need all the attention."
Before Rachel could answer, Mike suddenly hollered from the entrance of the locker room, "Hey! Rachel! If you don't want to do laps, you better get over here!"
"Okay, Michael! Thank you!" Rachel called back. Releasing herself from Brittany, she gave the blonde a smile, turned a more determined one on Santana along with a promised, "We'll continue this conversation later, Santana, where I explain that having a healthy dose of love of the spotlight is never wrong,", took a deep breath, and jogged as normally as she could towards the meeting that might just turn out to be the beginning of the rest of her high school life.