Chapter Five
Hand Holds and Facing Foes
That same old annoying bell rung for the next period of class in McKinley High School.
Everyone darted out of their seats in their respective classrooms, and went to their next class, some moving faster than others.
A cheerful, tall Cheerio had headed on to her locker in favor of her textbooks and one her many possessions – a baby blue button with her face on it that read Vote Brittany on the circumference.
Brittany was confident that she was going to win class president once again, especially when confronting ruthless Cheerios coach Sue Sylvester the other day. She hasn't graduated yet, and was pretty sure of herself that she was still going to be president still. Thanks to the rules of one lazy principal, there had to be another election this year.
This year was Brittany's year. It was her moment to come forth on the podium in McKinley's life-sized auditorium and make a stand for everyone walking around feeling useless and down for themselves.
She'll admit that last year, she only succeeded with a dinosaur-themed prom. That was before when she realized that life was a precious sort, and there was no need for it to be wasted. Everyone's life had a purpose, and she wanted to reach out to them and find out what it was.
"Britt-Britt!" A masculine, almost nerdy voice called to the blonde from behind.
Wheelchair-bound Artie Abrams had made a quick stop from his path towards the History classroom to speak with one of his former girlfriends. The quirky and silly Sam Evans leaned against the lockers, his muscular arms folded and his eyes shining down on Brittany's.
The handicapped male had his gloved hands folded on his lap. "So, you running for senior class president again?"
Brittany blushed at the attention she was getting from her fellow Glee club members. "Well, since you asked, yes. I mean, last year wasn't much of a good road that I've taken in the politics area. I could've done better."
"You still put on a kick-ass prom." Sam encouraged her with a light punch into her bare arm.
"I bow before your honest feedback, Sam Evans." Her statement made the blonde boy smirk. "But the school still needs a leader. I mean, we never took care of the situation of the students' health as opposed to the meals that are being served in the lunch room. Who knows? Insects and parasites may be lurking around in our schools."
Sam and Artie both shot bewildered looks at each other, and then at Brittany.
Brittany noticed that neither one of them had responded to her thoughts on what was going on. Instead of explaining it any further, she deadpanned both of the boys.
"You know what I mean. Anyways, I need my presidency back. I've come to realize that there are things about this school that haven't been resolved since I haven't done anything about it."
"You're just figuring this out now?"
Brittany's eyebrow cocked at the sound of another masculine voice that was neither Artie's nor Sam's. The moment she found out that she had competition, she knew this would be a tougher task than trying to read a calendar.
The Cheerio turned ninety degrees to her right, giving the death stare towards a senior male with a short-sleeved navy blue and white-striped sweater, a white bowtie with black polka dots, and an access amount of hair gel glued onto the top of his head.
"Brittany S. Pierce." He greeted, still staring at her, offering a hand shake in which Brittany rejected.
"Blaine Warbler." Her arms were still crossed in front of her chest. "I see your head is shinier than Sue Sylvester's semi-finals trophy from '08." With Blaine, as opposed to everyone else, there could be times when Brittany acted as a young Sue Sylvester.
However, Blaine could take anything she threw at him. Think of it as a young Will Schuester with black, gelled hair and the most thrown-together wardrobe.
"You can talk about my hair as you wish, Brittany," the young, dark-haired man replied, "but that won't change the fact that you'll win the election."
"What makes you think I won't win? I'm perfectly capable of anything. Dare try me."
"Yes, and one of your duties as president for last year was to go topless on Tuesdays. What makes you think that nudity is more important than a teenager's future?"
"For your information, that was a bonus. You know, we can still have a little fun, right?"
"A bonus to what? That whole speech about tornadoes especially made no sense. Then you promised robot teachers. How in the hell is that possible?"
"The human teachers would get more chances to stay at home and rest whenever they wanted to. They've been on their feet ever since they've gotten their jobs. How do you think they feel? Consider the feelings of not just the students, but the teachers as well, Blaine."
Blaine couldn't help but laugh at Brittany's response. "Brittany. I'm sorry to say, but you won't make it past me."
"Why do you say that? Will students be willing to listen to the drool-worthy plans of SpongeBow Shortpants?"
"They won't pay any attention to the ones of High School Drop-Out, either."
Out of nowhere, another Cheerio showed up with her books clutched to her chest. Two Cheerios stood behind her, acting as her bodyguards, and shot snarky looks at Blaine. One of them spotted Sam and Artie at the corner of her eye, and glared at them, signaling them to back away from their leader – or, at least the bitchy, petite blonde in charge.
"You again?" Brittany sighed. When will Barack Obama come and get rid of this problem?
"You both are downers, you know that right?" Kitty asked both seniors before her. "Yes, this guy is as boring as a rock in the middle of the road –" Blaine frowned at this response. " – but you, Brittany, are as crazy as my Aunt Cindy when she attended her class of '78 reunion and got drunk on so many beer bottles."
The blonde boy leaned towards the taller Cheerio. "Is she always like this?" the synchronized swimmer whispered.
She gave Sam no response, but still stared down at the petite Cheerio. "Maybe so, Kitty," she began, "but you're as annoying as the Annoying Orange, who never seems to shut his mouth once in his life." She took a step forward towards her, still eyeing her. "Leave…now."
Disgusted, Kitty held a hand in front of Brittany's face. "Hey, I'm not trying to catch mono-stupido, okay?"
Brittany didn't respond this time. She looked down at her.
Waving off Brittany's scent, Kitty folded her arms once again and shot an evil smirk at the taller blonde. "Oh, and, I'll still be here for another two years. So…excuse me, but I think you should leave. Or will you leave, Miss I'm Stuck Here With a 0.0 GPA –"
"Hey, leave Brittany alone." Sam immediately spoke, frowning at the shorter Cheerio.
"Do you really think you have authority over me, Guppy Lips?" The blonde male shook his head at her comment, bringing one of his hands to his claimed-to-be-oversized lips. "I'm head bitch here in this God-forsaken school. You can put your foot down to anything I say, but I, of course, won't take it."
Kitty noticed that everyone was silent. Artie didn't want anything to do with Kitty or her Cheerio friends, and wheeled back just a tad. Blaine had noticed how awkward it had gotten and started looking the other way. Sam turned his head to Brittany, who seemed to look down on the inside.
The heartless Cheerio smoothed her uniform out and grabbed her ponytail that swung on the back of her head.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class. You've officially bored me now."
Her hair swung in Brittany's face and slapped against her head as she headed the other direction to class. Both of her Cheerio friends followed close behind, eyeing the four as they walked.
Blaine checked his watch awkwardly and turned to Brittany, Sam, and Artie. "I should get going, too. See you at lunch, guys."
No one spoke as Blaine left. Brittany was now staring at the cold, hard floor. Her mind couldn't really take in what Kitty had just said to her. She hated getting served by the bitchiest girl in the school. Santana and Quinn were bitchy at one point, but they never treated her this badly.
Artie and Sam watched as the blonde was in a numb silence.
"Brittany…" Artie started to speak, but was a little worried about her state of silence at the moment. "Are you okay?"
How can I when this bitch keeps coming to sass me?
"Maybe."
That was the only response she gave to the boys before heading down the hallway slowly and into a Geometry classroom.
The wait to find out Santana's mother's decision was killing Quinn to the bone.
"She still hasn't said anything?" She had asked Santana through Skype.
"Nothing." Santana let out the frustration she had been holding in all day. "I don't see what's so difficult about deciding whether a girl should head to Hollywood and run the music world, or stay in Kentucky and be another one of those lowlanders with crushed dreams."
Quinn chuckled at Santana's ironically-hilarious frustration. "Not all people have crushed dreams when they're in Kentucky, Santana."
"Then how come this state isn't as known and powerful as California or New York or something like that? If this place were anything like Hollywood, I would be getting autographs and pictures from Jennifer Aniston by now."
"I'm telling you, we can't be fortunate of everything."
"Yeah, that's what you say, taking words out of our parents' mouths –"
"I'm not your mother, Santana."
"You are, eternally."
Neither girl could hold in their laughter at Santana's comment. Quinn almost choked on the cherry Crush she had taken from the mini fridge in her dorm.
"Fine, whatever." The blonde wiped her face with her napkin, checking everywhere else to see if some of the soda had splattered and made a mess. "But I'm telling the truth, Santana. Do you think you'll find a number of limos and hot spots in Lima?"
Santana shrugged willingly. "True."
"Quinn. Santana."
The two girls were almost startled when they heard Brittany's voice on the screen. Another window had pulled up, and a down Cheerio had come up on the screen, who was laying stomach down on her comforter.
"Brittany," Quinn spoke to the other blonde. "What's up with you?"
"Yeah, baby. You don't look so good." Santana grew concerned of Brittany's facial expression.
Brittany shook her head slightly and shrugged at both of them. "I'm just…tired."
Quinn tossed some popcorn in her mouth. "That doesn't seem like enough."
"I'm tired of Kitty. She and her friends had got to me today."
Santana's face scrunched up. "Who the hell is Kitty? Sounds like some bitch neighbor with a motorcycle, ten packs of cigarettes, and a house full of drugs and Siamese felines or something like that."
Quinn rolled her eyes at the Latina. "Santana."
"I'm just saying."
"Santana, as much as your awesome quips never get old," her blonde girlfriend replied, "I'm just not in the mood right now." Brittany clutched a soft, pink pillow to her chest and rested her chin on it.
Quinn and Santana seemed troubled as they watch the tall dancer stare into the computer screen sadly.
"Brittany, what did this Kitty girl do?"
"She keeps on making fun of me. Well, she started off with Blaine Warbler first and said something about him being boring and lifeless. Then she said something about me being crazy, a drop-out…" The tall blonde grew furious at her next few thoughts. "…having mono-stupido or whatever the fuck she said –"
"Mono-stupido?" the brunette asked.
"A disease that turns people stupid, I guess. Or she could've thought it was generic or something. I mean, I didn't have the smartest group of uncles, but –"
"Brittany, don't let her do that." Quinn was nearly yelling at her screen, unable to access what she heard in her brain. "She knows nothing of what you're capable of."
"I know, Quinn. It's just –"
Santana's eyebrows almost furrowed up again. Was Brittany really agreeing with what that bitch of a – well, whatever she was – said? What was going on?
"Well, before I encountered her, I thought a lot about my place in this school. I haven't done very well with my grades, and I only made one accomplishment as class president last year. I've been too much into my own headspace to realize that I haven't changed much. Maybe…maybe a part of her is right."
"No the hell she's not," Santana protested. "She called you stupid, Brittany. You're a smart girl –"
"Even if I haven't gotten a GPA last year?"
"Even if."
Quinn shook her head. "I won't take this shit."
The taller blonde turned towards the petite blonde on her laptop screen. "What do you mean, Quinn?"
"Brittany, you can be successful. I haven't told you this much being that I never understood you before, but Santana's right. You are smart. You learn quickly. You probably know more than this Kitty girl will ever know." She turned to Santana for a moment and then back at the tall Cheerio. "Looks like there's more to teach you."
"What does that mean?"
"I mean…" Quinn sighed and then shot the girls a smile. She was silent for a moment, but she was really sure of herself this time. "Let's do it."
"What, scissor-Skype?"
"Brittany!" Santana nearly yelled at her. The Cheerio bashfully hid her face behind the pink pillow, almost giggling at Santana's tomato-red face.
"After Santana had told us about this offer, I thought we shouldn't attempt it for a number of reasons," Quinn explained. "We're still young, we're yet to get jobs in the next…I don't know, four years –"
"Five, in my case." Brittany semi-lifted her hand willingly.
I knew the girl was smart. Santana thought as she eyed both blondes in her computer.
"In high school, we've been vulnerable to some extents, right? I, of course, had the Lucy Caboosey thing come back to me –"
"And the Tubbers joke, too." Santana added.
"Whatever." Quinn waved off Santana's quip. "Santana's had her ass kicked out of the closet. You, Brittany, have been called the S-word a few times in your life, right?" The taller blonde nodded. "The point is, we're better than anything anyone throws at us. Let's prove it to them."
Brittany suddenly perked up. "You…you mean we're actually doing this?"
Santana lifted a finger for a moment. "Wait, what about my mother?"
"We're going to prove it to her. We're going to do this, Santana. What's one thing that the Unholy Trinity can't do?"
Santana's eyebrow inched up on her head. "True."
Quinn smiled at Santana and Brittany, eyeing them with confident eyes. "Girls, I know we can do this. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?"
"Like Sour Patches and light beer, right?" The taller blonde got so excited about the idea, unable to contain her jumpy motions on the bed.
Quinn sat there, taking in the awkward silence.
"Brittany, beer can kill you, actually."
The Cheerio stared at her in shock. "A&W Beer can kill me?" She gaped at the fact that she had some about a couple of days ago when studying at Sam's house. "You mean I –"
Santana giggled. "No, not that. A&W is root beer, Brittany." Her sense of humor always got to her. Well, that's Brittany after all.
Brittany settled down for a moment, her hand resting over her heart. "Thank God…" she relieved.
Quinn couldn't help but join in with the girls' laughter, which died back down as they confidently and determinedly searched for each other's eyes on their computer screens. They each were proud of how this was coming all together.
The petite blonde held her hand out, regardless that all three of them were separated into different cities. "We start together…"
"…and end together." Santana agreed, holding her hand out.
Brittany grinned from cheek to cheek.
"That's the way it should be."