Right so this chapter takes place where Chapter 2 left off, with the summer before ninth grade having started for both Blaine and Santana. As it turns out, Santana's been visiting her abuela, who isn't exactly a nice person. At all... We'll be finishing up the time before Season 1 of Glee and be getting a lot of Brittana development during these next chapters. Obviously, Klaine has to wait a little bit... but don't worry. We won't spend too much time on Season 1. But Season 2 is where the main plot really begins. Hope you continue to enjoy this fic! And please keep on reviewing. I find your comments helpful and motivating. - Ryta
Warning: Santana's abuela isn't very nice. Some verbal abuse, and a few instances of physical violence. Not actually sure how severe any of it is, but I don't want to take any chances. If this may be an issue for you, do not read the material between the two lines of Xs.
"I think Coach Sylvester might be insane." Santana groaned out as she lay stretched out on Brittany's bedroom floor. Lying above her on the bed, Brittany peered over the edge at her, giggling.
"She's not insane, San. She's just super determined." she said brightly. Santana sat up and looked the blonde in the eye.
"No, she's insane. We just ran several miles with really heavy bags of meat strapped to the backs of our thighs and calves. And we were wearing long-sleeved tinfoil vests with weights in them. And there were hungry dogs chasing us. All while she yelled insults at us. I think that's more than just determination, Britt. Like, was that even safe?" Santana replied, gesticulating wildly with her hands. Brittany laughed.
"Okay, so she's a little crazy. But we're doing really well. It only took Quinn and I a couple days to get used to all the exercise. And you adjusted right away. The first day of practice, you outran everybody on the team." she responded.
"That was the first day of practice." Santana argued.
"Well, you could outrun us all every day, but instead you choose to stay with Quinn and I. So I don't see your point." Brittany returned. Santana shrugged, letting the topic go.
"So, what do you want to do now?" she asked the blonde.
"I don't know, San. Maybe we can go feed the ducks? But we have to be back by two; Lord Tubbington's been smoking again. He recently joined a gang, you know." Santana, having already gotten used to Brittany's constant use of metaphors, knew that the odd sounding statement simply meant that the cat had been stealing food from garbage cans and was not interacting well with other people and animals. The former had quite the effect on the cat's health, as the overweight feline was not dropping any pounds; the latter resulted in an inability to leave the cat in anyone's care but the Pierce family and sometimes Santana. The Latina was pretty sure that the cat had a doctor's appointment at two in an attempt to resolve at least one of these issues. She sometimes wondered how the cat was still alive.
"Alright. Let's go." Santana agreed, sitting up. Brittany swung her legs off the side of the bed, and the shorter girl found herself tracking the movement with her eyes. She frowned momentarily at herself, and then blinked, turning her attention away from her best friend. She rolled backwards into a back walkover, landing softly on her feet, and walked out of the room.
After a quick stop in the kitchen, the pair set out towards the park: one girl holding a bag of corn, and the other skipping down the path with a bag of oats. The first time Brittany had dragged Santana out of the park to feed the ducks, the dark haired girl had wondered why they didn't just use bread. She'd received a sharp glare (which was a strange mixture of terrifying and adorable), and a rant about how bread was actually bad for ducks and the ecosystem in general. Upon finishing the rant, Brittany had blushed, bit her lip, and looked down shyly, muttering an apology in an embarrassed tone. Santana had quickly snapped out of her shellshocked state and reassured the blonde that she hadn't done anything wrong.
"You're a genius, Britt." she'd breathed out, and Brittany met her gaze with sad and unsure eyes.
"Really? Because most people think I'm stupid." the blonde had admitted. Santana shook her head firmly.
"Screw them. You're amazing. You're beautiful, kind, and an absolute genius. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." she'd proclaimed firmly. She remembered feeling a bit embarassed at her outburst, but the soft smile that graced her best friend's lips afterwards wiped the feeling away. She swore right then that she'd do her best to keep Brittany smiling, because when she did, it made the world a little brighter. And she thought that the world could use a little more light.
Once the two girls arrived at the park, they went over to their bench and sat down. Since the beginning of the summer, when they first met, they'd always sat on that bench. It was located at the edge of the water, providing easy access to the ducks. The bench was partially hidden from view due to the tall trees that towered around it. Santana wasn't sure how Brittany had discovered it, but she loved the place. It was a peaceful spot, especially because nobody else ever used it.
As they threw grain into the water and on the ground in front of them, Santana leaned against Brittany's shoulder, feeling very relaxed.
"You're awesome. I'm so glad I met you." she said out of the blue. The blonde smiled down at her.
"Ditto." she replied simply, bringing a smile to Santana's face. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying the weather.
"Remember, your reputation is the only thing that matters. I don't care if you think someone is nice. If people think badly of you for talking to them, then you shouldn't be. They don't like that person for a reason, Santana, and you can't ignore that and risk getting dragged down with them." her grandmother lectured as they sat across from each other in her grandmother's living room.
"Yes, abuela." Santana responded dully, slouching back into the cushy armchair she was sitting in. Her grandmother raised an eyebrow, and Santana begrudgingly sat up straighter.
"And to keep such people from trying to get close to you, always make it clear that you are above them." the older woman directed.
"Above them? What type of people am I above?" Santana asked, creasing her eyebrows.
"I think you're smart enough to figure that out. But definitely kids who come from low class areas and those sinful gay people. They'll bring you nothing but trouble." Santana frowned. What her grandmother was saying felt wrong to her.
"Abuela, you know I'm originally from Lima Heights Adjacent. I don't think I have any room to judge. And my brother is gay. But he's not going to hell." she pointed out. Her grandmother tilted her head, looking as if she couldn't believe what Santana was saying.
"I'm not any better than them, so why should I act like I am?" she wondered. Her grandmother rose from her seat and walked over to Santana. She stood in front of her, scowling down at her granddaughter.
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"Santana, you are a stupid, foolish little girl who has yet to learn what's right and wrong. Do as I say and don't talk back. I thought I'd taught you better." her abuela replied, shaking her head in disappointment. Stunned, Santana opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything, her head snapped to the side as her grandmother's palm met her face. She turned back to her grandmother in shock, cheek stinging.
"I said, don't talk back." the woman said, and Santana's nostrils flared in rage. She was about to go on an angry tirade when her abuela grabbed her hair and sharply pulled her head closer to her face. Her other hand clamped down hard around Santana's jaw, squeezing her mouth shut painfully.
"You ungrateful piece of trash. If you open your mouth one more time, you will be punished." Santana's eyes were wide, pupils dilated in terror. Her grandmother was prone to mood swings, but this was insane. This had never happened before. Sure, her grandmother had said some hurtful things to her in the past, but it had never gotten physical. Santana didn't really know what to do.
"You will do as I say. Do you understand me? Nod if you do." Santana just stared at her grandmother, caught in a daze. The woman snarled, shaking her granddaughter's head roughly. She bit back a yelp as her hair was pulled more violently.
"I asked whether you understood me. Answer the question." she growled. Santana nodded her head as best as she could, and her abuela shoved her away roughly. Santana stumbled back, watching her grandmother warily.
"Good. Now get out, you ugly, weak child. And lose some weight. I don't know how you can bear to leave the house in the mornings looking like that." the woman snapped, and Santana turned, running out of the room as quickly as she could, tears starting to fall down her face.
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What her grandmother had said and done had hurt her deeply. But Santana knew she'd still go back to her next week. And the week after. And even the week after that. No matter what her abuela did, she would keep going back, because she loved her grandmother too much to leave for good.
As time passed, she left every visit feeling more afraid and insecure then she had the week before. She'd go home, hide in her room, and cry for hours upon end. She would stay up late wondering if what her grandmother said was true; wondering whether she was such a worthless creature that no one could ever really love her.
Eventually, Santana built up a nearly impenetrable facade; a sarcastic, bitchy cheerleader who knew she was the hottest piece of action around and didn't have a problem with flaunting it. A girl who didn't care what people thought of her because she was full of confidence. And behind that, she hid a quiet, insecure girl who loved music and believed that she was ugly and worthless. A girl who cared all too much about what people thought of her because she had no confidence. She buried that girl deep inside her walls and swore that she'd never let her see the light of day again.
But a small part of her hoped that someone would eventually see through her facade and find that girl; hoped that they would see her for who she really was and love her for it.
Unfortunately, she wasn't sure it would ever happen.
By the time school started up, Santana's cheerleader persona was rock solid. She was perfect. Not in the way that Quinn was, with her flawless ice queen persona. No, Quinn had erased whoever she was before and become someone completely new. Santana had taken the person she already was, chosen specific characteristics to enhance and dial down, and twisted her original personality to be exactly who she wanted to be. And who she wanted to be was amazing. She knew exactly how to catch the attention of guys, and she could drop them just as quickly. She could dish out insults with practically no effort, and she always had a witty response ready for everything. Her hair and makeup skills were impeccable, and so was her wardrobe. She was loud and overconfident, but also devious and a bit mysterious. She was Santana Lopez, and nobody wanted to mess with her. And more importantly, nobody wanted to mess with Brittany.
Everybody knew how protective Santana was of her best friend. Rumors flitted around school about the way she would get her revenge on anyone who hurt the sweet blonde, and they boosted the Latina's reputation even more. In the eyes of the McKinley population, she was dangerous. She was a predator. And predators always have prey.
But as far as her prey went, Santana was unique. She never went after people because they were weak. She only went after them if they had pissed her off or if she had to target someone for no reason. Whenever that happened, she always went for the strongest candidates.
Rachel Berry, for example, was determined to never give up on her dream. Santana knew that nothing she did would ever change that. So she slushied Rachel every day and called her names that implied she was of the opposite gender. Rachel took it all in stride, brushing herself off and putting a smile on her face. Santana found that smile annoying. It practically screamed self-confidence, which was the one thing she herself lacked. In fact, Berry's entire personality oozed that confidence. She kind of hated her for it.
Kurt Hummel kept his head held high despite being thrown in the dumpster every morning. She respected him for it. She even went so far as to not slushie him; while flamboyant, his outfits were expensive and very nice. She didn't want to ruin them. So, she insulted him verbally. However, she couldn't bring herself to use actual homophobic slurs against Kurt. Instead, she just pointed out his sexuality at every possible moment. She knew she wasn't being nice. But she'd accepted that she was kind of a bitch a long time ago. And Kurt had taken to calling her Satan, which actually kind of hurt. The insult brought up bad memories, all of them related to her grandmother. So she supposed they were basically even.
Okay, maybe not. But a girl could dream, right?
There were others as well. Tina Cohen-Chang, Artie Abrams, Mercedes Jones, the list went on; and while some appeared quite shy, there was a quiet strength that all of them shared, although Santana was the only person looking closely enough to see it. She was observant enough to notice a lot of hidden and personal things about each of her targets, but she would never use those against them. She only insulted them with what everybody else saw on the surface.
For example, she would insult Tina's stutter. It was definitely faked, but it wasn't the biggest secret the girl was hiding. No, that would be the fact that she was adopted. She'd seen Tina's parents, and they weren't even Asian. In fact, they were a lovely Caucasian couple, with features that didn't resemble Tina's in the slightest. However, Santana never said anything about it to anyone. It was Tina's decision to reveal that, not hers.
Artie Abrams had a huge secret as well, a tragic one. She called Artie out on his inability to walk, a fact which everybody knew. But she didn't talk about the fact that his older brother had been in the car with him and his mom, didn't mention that she'd watched as Artie had tried to pull him loose from where he was pinned in the driver's seat. How could she? She remembered the day with disturbing clarity.
She'd watched the accident happen from outside of the grocery store where she and her mother were shopping. Santana had decided to wait outside because the sun was shining, bright and warm, and she had liked it much more than the artificial light within the building. The car had been crossing an empty intersection when a truck came out of nowhere, slamming into the smaller vehicle and flipping it over. The police and the fire department had appeared on the scene in minutes.
Artie's mother had crawled out of the car first, hauling Artie out of the backseat and pulling him quickly to where the police surrounded the accident. About halfway there, Artie had realized that his brother hadn't appeared yet. He had broken free of his mother's grip, rushing back to the car.
Santana walked closer, as if stuck in a trance. Her mother called her name from behind her, but she barely heard it. She was stuck, memories of the car crash she'd been in when she was four flashing through her head. Police and firefighters ran around the scene, not even noticing the little girl in the midst of all the chaos.
The heat, the smell of gasoline, the screams of her parents, the horrible screech of folding metal, and the explosion. All of it played through her mind in a constant loop. She whimpered and squeezed her eyes tightly.
"Santana!" Her eyes snapped open as she came back to reality, shuddering. She continued to ignore her mother's calls from outside the temporary perimeter that had been set up.
"It's probably not going to explode this time... apparently that doesn't happen often." she tried to reassure herself. It didn't help.
Santana stood on the sidewalk and watched in horror as Artie called for help and tugged uselessly at his brother's arm. Nobody came to the eight year old's aid. At first, she didn't understand why.
"It's not safe, son! Artie, you need to move!" a fireman yelled, and Artie's mother screamed in fear from where she was being restrained by two policemen. Santana's heart sank, and her blood ran cold. Artie ignored their warnings, continuing to pull at his brother's torso. She could hear his panicked mutterings.
Then, his brother said something, too quietly for Santana to hear, and Artie started to shake his head violently. From where she stood, Santana had been able to tell that his brother was insisting on whatever it was. She had edged a tiny bit closer, and had just been able to pick up Artie's older brother's last words.
"Artie, I need you to get out of here. Please. Just- remember me, okay? Remember that I'm always with you, even when you don't feel like I am. And remember that no matter where you look, there's always a story to be told. There's always something behind the curtain, just waiting to be expressed. So, try to find whatever lies behind the surface, and unlock the door. Don't force it out, though. If it's ready to fly into the light, it will go on it's own. But sometimes, it needs you to give it the chance. In life, no wall, no matter what it is or what it's made of, is unbreakable. Remember that. Remember that I love you. I love you so much, Artie. Now go." He had gently shoved the crying eight year old away, and Santana had felt like she'd intruded on a private moment. But she had also known that she would remember those words forever.
Artie took a few steps, and then paused. He lingered for a second, glancing back at his brother.
"Artie, get out of there!" Santana had burst, unable to contain herself, and he had turned to her in confusion. She'd never met him before; they had no idea who the other was. The boy had made eye contact with her, and something had twisted inside of her. Something bad was about to happen, she could feel it.
Artie broke into a run, sprinting towards her as quickly as he could. He wasn't fast enough.
The car exploded behind him, sending pieces of debris flying through the air. A chunk of metal slammed into the eight year old's back, sending him flying forwards with a cry of pain. He rolled to a stop at Santana's feet, and she immediately dropped to her knees next to him. He whimpered, and all Santana could do was grab his hand and try to calm him down. Paramedics appeared at her side in seconds, carefully lifting Artie off of the ground and taking him away. She watched them go, hands stained with blood.
The incident had brought back nightmares of her parent's death for months after. Even now, she could barely look Artie in the eye. At least when treating him like a loser, she could just pretend he didn't exist. She'd never slushied him either.
To be honest, though, slushies were used more by the jocks than the Cheerios; they weren't on the school board's approved list of bullying implements or whatever, so the male athletes loved them. Santana had actually only used slushies a total of thirteen times: once on Rachel when she had made a snide comment about Brittany, and 12 other times for twelve different incidents of someone being mean to her best friend. Basically, if you insulted Brittany, you'd be lucky to get off with just a slushie facial. Otherwise, she didn't slushie people. However, that didn't stop people from running in fear every morning when she and Brittany walked down the halls with slushies in hand. She couldn't really blame them. Other Cheerios were known for giving slushie facials: Quinn, for example, slushied Rachel at least once a week, and ordered the jocks to slushie people every single day. Dana Stevens held a grudge against Jewfro for something he'd spread around the school at one point, so he got a slushie facial every day. And of course, Cheerios coach Sue Sylvester was known for walking around with slushies, and she wasn't afraid to use them if someone pissed her off.
But there were other ways of proving superiority over the people at the bottom of the social ladder.
Mercedes Jones was another kid who Santana found very strong. She seemed a bit shy, but Santana could see a quiet confidence in her. She tended to throw pencils at Mercedes in class, but only because she was fascinated at the way Mercedes didn't give her any reaction, choosing to ignore her completely. Once in a while, she'd slip something in the girl's food, and even then, nothing. The only time Mercedes ever reacted was when she was slushied, because like Kurt, she cared about her clothes and hair. Although, Santana had tried to punch the girl a few times, but only because she'd said something about Brittany.
When she stopped to think about it, she realized that everything always came back to Brittany. She couldn't help it, though. Brittany was hers, kind of like how Blaine was hers.
Nobody got to mess with what was hers.
She'd fought too hard to keep them in the first place.
"Does that poster say... Glee Club?" Santana asked Brittany in confusion. Wasn't the Glee Club long dead or something?
"Yeah, San, it definitely does." the blonde replied cheerily.
"Ugh, if only it wouldn't be social suicide to join." she muttered. She hadn't gotten to sing in ages.
"Well, I'm sure we can come up with some reason to go." Brittany pointed out.
"You're right, Britt. We'll just have to wait for one to show up." Santana replied. She linked pinkies with Brittany and they walked off to class.
So, it's been a little while since I updated... is it just me, or is Glee fanfic starting to slow down? That makes me sad. For my fellow Californians, stay safe from the fires. And if y'all have heard about what happened with Naya Rivera... I think that it's perhaps for the best that she's filing for divorce again. Obviously, the relationship with her and her husband is rather toxic, and while I don't condone domestic violence whatsoever, I don't think she's a bad person. I hope everything works out for everyone. Anyways, hope to see you soon with the next chapter! - Ryta