"Hey, Santana? Time to get up, kiddo. I made pancakes." Santana flinched and pushed herself up, trying to figure out where she was. Oh yeah, Mr. Schue's apartment. "Sorry for scaring you," she heard him say apologetically. She rolled over onto her back, letting out a grunt.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Mr. Schue left the room and closed the door, giving her a bit of privacy. She climbed out of bed and looked over at the dresser… The empty dresser that contained none of her clothes. "Mr. Schue?"
He stuck his head back through her door. "Oh, yeah, clothes… You wanna stop by your house on the way to school?" She nodded gratefully. "Alright, come have some pancakes, and we'll go.
X
Santana climbed into the passenger seat of Mr. Schue's car, stomach full of pancakes and chocolate chips. He had made a smiley face out of chocolate chips on her pancake, which she thought was silly, but really sweet. She pointed him down a few streets until they arrived in her driveway. Thankfully, her mom's car wasn't in the driveway, which meant that Santana could enter the house shame free. She stepped out of the car, and heard Mr. Schue do the same.
"You really don't have to come in," she said quietly.
"You don't need help?"
"No, I'll be quick."
She tugged the key out from under the mat and inserted it in the lock, prying the door open. Her room was down the hallway to the right. It was a tiny space, holding merely a bed, a small bookcase and a dresser. Santana walked slowly over to the dresser, and grabbed her duffel bag, cramming clothes into it. Once she had emptied her drawers (only filling her bag about halfway), she walked over to the bookcase and grabbed her iPod and her favorite books, Looking for Alaska and Will Grayson, Will Grayson. She had gotten the author, John Green's autograph in both books and treasured them. Both were worn down the spines, clearly read and reread. She placed them gently on top of the clothes in her bag, zipped it up, grabbed her school bag and walked out of the house, locking the door behind her.
"See, I told you it wouldn't take too long. Let's go." She heaved her bag into the backseat and sat heavily in the passenger seat. Thankfully, Mr. Schue didn't say anything except, "Okay."
X
The pair arrived at school about ten minutes earlier. As the car neared the parking lot, Santana could feel her heart beginning to race. She fought to keep her breathing calm, but Mr. Schuester had realized that she was beginning to panic.
"Santana, everything is going to be okay," he murmured gently, pulling into the teachers' lot. "You can do this. You are strong, and you can do this." Santana looked up at him fearfully. "You ready?" He opened the door and circled to open hers. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the bitter wind. They walked together up the sidewalk and into the high school, greeted instantly by deafening noise. Almost immediately, Dave Karofsky's voice echoed from behind her.
"Hey, dyke!" Karofsky shouted Mr. Schue could feel Santana pull instinctively closer to him. "I've got a little –" Mr. Schue whipped around, and stared at the boy, who was holding a slushie in his hand. "Oh, uh, Mr. Schuester," Karofsky mumbled.
"Karofsky, if I find out that you slushied Santana, I will personally make sure Coach Beiste cuts you from the football team!" He stated loudly, putting an arm protectively over her shoulders.
"You can't do that!" Karofsky screamed.
"Do you really want to try me?" Karofsky shook his head. "Good. You better be getting to class."
"Yes, sir." Karofsky quickly turned and walked back where he had come from. A small crowd had gathered in the hallway, eager to see the battle between Mr. Schue and Karofsky and they were all sorely disappointed to see it cut to an end so quickly.
"Don't you all have class?" he shouted, his voice echoing down the hall, causing them all to disperse quickly. Santana was leaning against her locker, hyperventilating in terror. He had a hand on her shoulder and was looking at her. "You okay?" She nodded, her breath slowing significantly. "Stop by my office anytime. Just breathe," he whispered encouragingly before turning away.
She stared at his back, watching him disappear, and felt herself start to panic. She was alone again. Just breathe.
X
Mr. Schue walked into the choir room and sat heavily at the piano bench. The entire club, minus Santana, was seating in their usual spots and perked up immediately at his arrival.
"Mr. Schue, where have you been?"
"Why do you look so stressed out?"
"Where's Santana?" He turned towards the small voice. Brittany Pierce was seated in the back row, looking alone without Santana sitting next to her. Mr. Schue sighed.
"Santana was… attacked a few days ago. She should be here soon. She's in pretty bad shape, so I just need you to support her." Immediately, Artie scoffed in the front row. "That includes you, Artie," Mr. Schue said angrily. "I know you're still angry with her, but we're still family in here. This is a safe space, and that's what she needs right now. Even from you, Artie. She needs our support." Artie grumbled heavily to himself and settled back in his spot, right as Santana walked in. A collective gasp exploded in the room.
"Santana!" Brittany ran down and immediately attempted to envelope her girlfriend in a hug, but the brunette stepped back, her breath quickening. "San, what's wrong?" Santana didn't speak but returned to her usual spot next to Brittany's in the back. The two sat back down together, Brittany looking very afraid, and Santana looking like she was about to explode. She felt awful for pushing Brittany away, but every touch made her sweat and shake. Brittany was staring at her, and she forced herself to look back.
"Do you need a bandaid for your face?" the blonde asked quietly. "I have a ducky bandaid in my purse if you want it…"
"No, thanks, Britt-britt," Santana whispered gently. She wanted more than anything to extend her pinky to the blonde, but the thought of such an intimate gesture sent a wave a fear through her . Finn was staring at her, and when she finally realized, she barked at him, "Oh, wanna stare at poor broken Santana? Get it out now before I hurt you!" Finn whipped his head back to Mr. Schue, terrified of the angry brunette.
"Guys," Mr. Schue spoke loudly. "Let's focus on Nationals, not Santana." Santana couldn't focus on anything but the blonde. She wanted nothing more than to let the blonde wrap her in a hug. It took everything she had to extend her pinky and wrap it around the blonde's, refusing to look at her. Brittany squeezed it gently, and Santana felt her heart relax just a little bit.
Maybe this day would be okay after all.