Here's the next chapter, guys, and sorry it's been a while. This one's pretty short, but after this chapter, they should get longer. We're pretty much to the main story now, but I'm not so sure that's a good thing at this point...
Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to leave a review, and I'm sorry for any mistakes.
7:45 AM
McKinley High School was fairly small, consisting of about four-hundred students and twenty teachers and staff members. The campus, though, was large and settled on a flat, empty piece of land. The only trees were ones that had been planted by the student body in years past in honor of some graduating class or some really old PTA member who had passed away.
The school was north facing, with the main street running parallel, in front of the campus. On one east side of the school was the border line separating Lima from the nearest, smaller neighboring town. On the west side were all the athletic fields, lined up consecutively: first the football field and track, then the soccer field, and lastly the baseball field.
McKinley was a one-story brick building that stood out from the vinyl covered houses surrounding the school. At the front, was a giant open window that let in light during the winter months, but very little during the spring. There were a few uncomfortable wooden benches spread out across the mulch covered grounds facing towards two tall flag poles. The Ohio state flag and the United States flag hung high in the sky; they were motionless on this particular morning due to the still air.
Also, settled on the sides of the building, were large wooden plant beds that stretched for about ten feet. The administrative staff and student body had tried to plant all kinds of flowers in them for years, but the chilly falls always seemed to freeze over any still-existing buds from summer. Winter would tear through Lima and kill anything green, prohibiting any chance of those remaining blossoms from returning at the start of spring to bloom. It was sad, in a way, because the flower beds would usually be so beautiful right before they were destroyed by Mother Nature's icy breath. But, the principal had given up the previous year and had left them bare for this particular spring.
Principal Figgins had worked as head of McKinley high school for ten years. The teachers respected him; the students listened to him; the parents adored him. He was a fairly nice man and thought pretty highly of himself. His family was one of the wealthier ones in Lima and, he took great pride in his status. Considering he was Indian and had moved here with his wife and two daughters from out-of-state to take up a position at the local high school in Lima on a whim, most of the citizens here would agree that he was also quite lucky. The Figgins family was one of a kind in Lima.
This morning, Figgins stood outside the front doors of the school, facing the main road. He had just finished instructing two small freshmen in the procedure of raising the flags, like he did every morning at 7:45. He was sipping casually from his large coffee mug and staring up at the oddly colored sky. Occasionally, a teacher or student would pass by him, hurrying to get to their first period class before the first bell rang.
Usually Figgins would say something to the teachers for being so far behind, but it was a Friday, and he was in an oddly chipper mood.
As he looked to his watch, he began counting down the seconds until the first bell would ring, signaling the students to get to their classrooms. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
BEEP
Figgins adjusted his tie and jacket before leaning forward and back on his feet. He then proceeded to fiddle with the itchy wig he wore on top of his very bald head. Once he had decided he was decent enough to proceed within the school, he turned on his heels and reached for the cold handle on the glass door separating him from the busy and noisy teenagers rushing around inside.
Just like he always did, Figgins stood at the entrance to the school and watched his students scurry to their first block classes.
There were two long hallways to his left and right, branching off from the open mall area in front of him. Directly in front of Figgins, was a large open room that held the school's office and teacher's lounge. He would be walking forward to make his way to his own desk in a few minutes, but for now, he was too busy watching and inwardly laughing at the wild student body.
McKinley High was in the shape of a square. The hallways ran along the sides of the square, with the classrooms splitting off on both sides every fifty feet or so. When one hall would end, a perpendicular lane would diverge away. Eventually, if students kept walking, they would find themselves passing a cafeteria, a library, and then realize that they were back to their original spot at the front of the school.
It was a simple layout and relatively inexpensive, which pleased the tax-paying citizens greatly. The students found it easy to navigate and the teachers could monitor the activities better, as well. Because of this, the students felt safer and the parents felt relieved. They had all heard horror stories about knives and guns and drugs being brought to school. For most parents, McKinley was a blessing because in the past fifty years, not one violent or troublesome event had occurred.
And that was what made today so much worse: because no one, not one single person, was expecting the terror that lay ahead. Only a tall blonde girl with a stomach ache who had just entered her English Literature class had the slightest inclination that something was wrong.
Santana followed Brittany to the back of the large classroom. They both took their seats at the table in the back of the room, and proceeded to watch as the rest of their classmates filed in.
"Hey girls," a large black girl greeted the two of them before taking her seat at the table in front of them.
"Hi Mercedes," Brittany acknowledged.
Santana noticed the unusual tone in the blonde's voice, but chose to ignore it. Mercedes raised her eyebrows and gave Brittany a quizzical stare. The blonde just slumped in her seat and brought her arms to her stomach to hold herself. She was hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain she was still feeling.
"What's wrong, Britt?" Mercedes asked, as another girl joined her at her table.
Brittany didn't even bother to look up. She just continued to squeeze her belly and turn her eyes down to the table beneath her.
Santana watched the uncharacteristic motions of the girl next to her and felt some sort of responsibility for her state. When she looked up, she not only met Mercedes' eyes, but she also locked eyes with an Asian girl who looked just as interested.
"She's not feeling well," Santana explained, and both Mercedes and the Asian girl nodded and turned back to the front of the classroom.
After Santana was certain that the two girls in front of them were deep in some gossipy conversation and couldn't overhear what Santana was hoping to say, she turned back to look at the somber blonde.
"Are you feeling worse now, B?" she asked, concerned.
Brittany didn't bother to meet the chocolate eyes that she could feel piercing her; she just nodded.
For some reason, as soon as the blonde had entered the school, the feeling that she had thought was slowly beginning to disappear was now burning through her insides. It felt like her stomach and intestines were being knotted and tangled into a giant painful mess.
Without any hesitation, Santana reached for the girl's hand, pulled in away from her torso and brought it under the table. She laced her fingers in the blonde's and watched Brittany's expression as she gave a gentle squeeze.
Brittany immediately looked up at the brunette and gave her a warm smile. It wasn't forced or strangled, and Santana took that as good news. It meant that Brittany could be distracted.
For the next few minutes, Santana and Brittany sat looking forward, watching their fellow classmates arrive before the late bell rang at 7:55. Santana had taken on the job of distracting Brittany with ease. She was writing random words on the back on Brittany's hand with her fingers, and the blonde was guessing what she was drawing. She had started off with Disney characters, but Brittany had just ended up guessing the right character after Santana had drawn the first letter. So, Santana had moved on to singers and songs, which had ended up being more challenging for the blonde. But, in the end, it had been more successful at diverting the blonde's attention away from her stomach ache.
They watched as Rachel, the annoying, small Jewish girl took her seat at the front of the classroom next to a well-dressed boy named Kurt, who was super gay. They talked loudly while the girl would send occasional longing looks across the room to Finn Hudson, the school's quarterback.
Sitting next to Finn, was Quinn Fabray, another cheerleader that Santana and Brittany were quite close friends with. Quinn and Finn had been dating for three years, but it was no secret that Finn had eyes for a certain loud-mouthed midget who had convinced him to join the Glee club their sophomore year. So, while Quinn rambled on about college and cheerleading, Finn was sending occasional side-glances towards Rachel as well.
There were another ten students seated around tables within the classroom. Santana knew the names of all of them, but most of the time she pretended like she didn't. Santana wanted to separate herself from the lower-class students and stand out. She thought she was so much better than all of them, anyways.
"Ummm…Madonna?" Brittany guessed.
Santana raised her eyebrows and chuckled. "Britt, how did you get 'Madonna' out of 'Whitney Houston'?" she asked.
The blonde simply shrugged her shoulders and started concentrating again as Santana's slender fingers began tracing letters over her hand once more.
Though Brittany liked playing the game, she enjoyed feeling Santana's touch even more. It was soft and comforting and reminded her of all the times that the Latina had run her fingertips along her long, bare body. Brittany shivered at the memory.
"Lady Gaga?"
Santana nodded her head and continued.
Brittany, who had been trying really hard to concentrate on Santana's hand, was now watching as a larger boy squeezed his way into the classroom before the bell rang.
The blonde watched him, curiously, because she noticed a deceitful expression across his face; Brittany was usually good at reading people. As she eyed him carefully she was beginning to feel a swell of nausea wash over her again, only this time it was ten times worse.
David Karofsky walked forward and took his seat at the back of the classroom, right next to Brittany.
The blonde noticed that he was wearing a rather baggy hoodie and vest, along with cargo pants. She raised an eyebrow because, though David didn't usually dress up, he never looked like this. As he sat down at his seat, Brittany turned to face him and stared.
BEEP
The classroom door shut loudly, and the class turned their attention to their teacher at the front of the room.
"Good morning, everyone," she said, energetically. Most of the students just rolled their eyes.
Santana reached down to her bag and pulled out her binder. Her other hand was still grasping Brittany's; she hadn't realized that the blonde's grip had tightened significantly over the last minute.
As Santana sat back up in her chair, three things happened simultaneously.
First, Santana felt Brittany's hand pull away from her own. Second, she heard a deafening BAM that ricocheted off the brick walls and made her jump out of her seat.
And lastly, while she was falling to the ground and reaching for Brittany, Santana watched as their teacher's face contorted in intense pain and disbelief, before she fell to the ground with a thud.