A/N: Hello, readers!

Okay, so funny story. I had this chapter written last Tuesday, and I sent an e-mail to my Beta telling her that. Then, I hadn't heard back from her by Friday, so I was like, "What is the hold up?" and checked my sent mail. Well, come to find out, I hadn't actually attached my chapter to the e-mail...Then, she's been out of town, so...yeah. My bad for the wait. I know how annoying it can be when updates aren't at least at regular intervals.

Anyway, so the reviewers!

chiknhed - First of all, hilarious name. Second of all, thanks for the review, and I'm glad it was suspenseful for you! I hope you like this chapter! :)

Last White Feather - Hehehe, I know, I'm sneaky. ;) Lol, I'm glad you're enjoying this even though there's a delay in the presence of Santana. :) Of course she'll be here! You can't have Brittany without Santana. That's just blasphemy. ;P In fact, I think that if you can hold out for another chapter, you might be appeased sooner than you think...if you catch my drift *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* Anywho...thanks for the review, and I hope this chapter is satisfactory! :D

You know I can't help blabbering on about things you guys couldn't care less about, so here's another little story for those of you who actually read these things in their entirety. I'm a TA for a mythology class, and I just finished grading the second round of essays. Well, I gave this one guy a 68 because he clearly just half-assed his paper, just like the first essay, and I mean, really, he deserved a lower grade than that, but I was having a rare bout of generosity at the time. Anyway, so, he came up to the professor after class yesterday and asked him if he could revise his paper to get a better grade because he just didn't have much time to write the second essay. You know what took up so much of his precious time that he couldn't write a measly 1,000 word essay in a way that's acceptable for college? Because he's been pledging a fraternity. Yup. Stupid frat guy. I felt like going up to him and giving him an even lower grade just for having the audacity to try to pull that stupid, "I've been wasting my time with parties and hazing and haven't been doing what I'm actually supposed to be doing at college" crap. Goodness, I just hate people like that. Lazy asses. Like, just drop out. No offense to anyone reading this who is a member of a sorority (or fraternity, although I doubt there are any guys reading this story); I know not everyone is a waste of space like this guy.

Anywhoozle, also! You know what I like to watch? Jeopardy! Don't you just get a giddy sense of accomplishment when you get the right answer that the contestants get wrong? I do. :) I also love to see how quickly I can think of the answer and keep yelling it at the screen until someone buzzes in or the answer is revealed. *Sigh* Good times. :)

Ahem, so, aside from all the usual random useless stuff, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! :D


Brittany felt her heart freeze inside her chest. No! her mind shrieked. This can't be happening!

Had the girl tricked her into hiding so that she could reveal her to her stepbrother? But I've never seen her in my life before, Brittany reasoned. Such a plan just didn't make sense.

"Did you say your name was Brittany?" Brittany heard the conductor ask.

Brittany pressed herself against the back of the berth, clutching her carpet bag to her chest, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the green curtain. But even as she did it, she realized the gesture was useless. If the young woman revealed where Brittany was, nothing in the world would stop Finn from finding her.

"Yes, my name is Brittney," the young woman said.

"Will you come forward, please, miss?" Brittany once again heard the kind voice of the conductor.

Brittany listened to the whisper of skirts, the click of shoes, as the girl who had helped conceal her moved off down the aisle. The green curtain in front of Brittany's face swayed ever so slightly as the girl stepped forward. Brittany held her breath.

"Now then," she heard the conductor say after a moment. "Is this the young lady you're looking for?"

"What is the meaning of this?" Finn's voice said, his tone harsh and indignant.

"You have asked if there is a young woman named Brittany in the car," the conductor answered in a strained but patient voice. "This is the only young woman who has come forward. I take it she is not your sister?"

But when Finn spoke again, Brittany knew at once that he'd completely ignored the conductor, speaking instead to her unknown friend in a voice that made goosebumps rise on Brittany's skin.

"You're trying to trick me, aren't you?" Finn asked menacingly. "The two of you are in this thing together. Where is she? What have you done?"

Without warning, the girl named Brittney gave a sharp exclamation. "Let go of me!" she cried out. "Let go, you're hurting my arm!"

"That's enough!" the conductor shouted, the last of his patience vanishing. Brittany heard a child begin to whimper, the sound quickly hushed. "Sir, your behavior is inexcusable," the conductor went on. "I'm afraid I must ask you to leave this train at once."

"I tell you, I will not," Finn snapped back. "I will stay here until I find my sister. I demand to know what's going on."

"No." The conductor's voice was as hard and quick as the crack of a whip.

"Sir," he said forcefully. "No one on this car has anything to tell you. You have laid rough hands on this young lady for no other reason than that she is not your sister. Your behavior is unacceptable, and it is dangerous. I order you to leave this train at once. If you do not go of your own accord, I will summon assistance and have you thrown off."

Brittany heard Finn make a choking sound, obviously disbelieving what he was just told. "Ms. Sylvester will hear of this," he rapped out. "I am not without influence."

Absolute silence descended upon the sleeping car. Brittany pressed one fist against her mouth in anticipation.

Sue Sylvester was one of the most powerful people in all of Washington. People called her the Empire Builder. She was the force behind the Great Northern Railway. A word from Sylvester, and the conductor could be fired and never allowed to work for the railroad again.

Maybe I should give myself up, Brittany thought. I'm putting other people in danger, innocent people.

"Naturally, you must do as you think fit, sir," the conductor said in a stiff voice. "As must I. My first duty is to the safety of these passengers, and I believe you are a menace to that safety. You will leave this train. Now."

In the split second of silence that followed, Brittany could hear someone breathing heavily through his mouth. Finn, she realized. She didn't think anyone had ever spoken to her stepbrother in so forceful a manner.

"You'll be sorry," Finn said, his voice all but a snarl. He sounds like an animal, Brittany thought. A predator furious at being deprived of its prey. "You haven't heard the last of this, I promise you."

She heard heavy footsteps, and then the bang of a door. There was another moment of complete silence. Then, slowly, Brittany began to hear the rustling of garments and bedding that told her the other occupants of the sleeping car were trying to return to normal.

"We'll be getting under way in just a few moments, ladies and gentlemen," the conductor said, his voice sounding tired. "I apologize for this distressing interruption."

"If he does go to Sylvester, I'll speak for you," said a man's voice. "I'm not without some influence myself. Here's my card."

"Judge Schuester, thank you, sir," the conductor answered, his voice warming. "If you will all excuse me now, I must see to the rest of the cars. If you need anything, please ask Sam to assist you."

Again, Brittany heard the sound of retreating footsteps, this time followed by the gentle but firm closing of the coach door. Brittany could all but hear her fellow passengers catching their collective breaths.

"When is the train going to start moving, Mama?" a plaintive young voice inquired.

"The conductor said it wouldn't be long now," a woman replied. "Come on now, let's get you settled in for the night."

"Can I sleep on top?" the child asked, the tone excited.

"No," her mother answered, a laugh in her own. "You most certainly may not. The restless way you sleep, you'll fall off in the middle of the night."

"But I could fall from the bottom, too," the child protested.

"Well," her mother said practically. "At least you won't have so far to go."

Brittany felt rather than heard the return of the young woman who'd helped conceal her. The curtains which veiled her hiding place stirred ever so slightly but did not part.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Brittany heard the porter, Sam, inquire, his voice right by her head.

"I'm fine," the girl named Brittney replied in a subdued voice. "He frightened me, but he didn't hurt me. Though I must say," she went on, her tone rallying, "I was never so glad not to be somebody's sister in all my life."

"Wherever that girl is, I hope he never finds her," Brittany heard the woman with the young child comment. Relief made hot tears prick at the back of Brittany's eyes. Without warning, two whistles shrieked, long and mournful through the icy night.

"There we go," the porter called out. "We'll be under way in just a moment. Does anybody need my help?"

Brittany listened to his heavy footsteps moving off toward the front of the sleeping car. She laid perfectly still, breathing softly through her mouth, listening to her pounding heart. Where was Brittney? Was she still right beside the berth?

In the next instant, Brittany almost tumbled out as the train jerked forward. Slowly at first, then with ever increasing speed, Great Northern #25 began to glide out of the Spokane depot.

I've done it, Brittany thought. I'm actually getting away.

Soon, the life she had lived with Finn and Rebecca would be far behind. She would leave behind the suitor they had chosen, who had never really loved her. Even the graves of her parents would be left behind. All the external things that made her Brittany Pierce.

Who will I be now? Brittany wondered. How would she change, now that she could choose for herself?

As if watching her new life revealed on a stage, Brittany saw the green curtain screening the berth pull back. Little by little, the form of the girl who had hidden her came into view, silhouetted against the darkening windows of the berth just opposite. Brittany couldn't see her face clearly, just her outline.

"You can come out now. It's safe," the girl named Brittney murmured.

In total silence, Brittany scooted forward. Brittney reached to take the carpet bag, and then dropped it to the floor. Brittany swung her legs out over the edge of the upper berth, twisting over onto her stomach. She felt Brittney's hand guide one leg to a toe hold on the lower berth. Brittany put her weight down on it. A moment later, she had both feet on the wooden floor.

Slowly, Brittany turned toward the girl who had so unexpectedly saved her from her stepbrother. As she got her first good look at Brittney's face, Brittany's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she felt dizzy, disoriented.

Looking at the girl who saved her was almost like looking into a mirror. She looked just like Brittany.

The match wasn't exact, it was true, but the other girl had the same golden hair, the same fine, porcelain-pale skin, though her blue eyes were just a shade or two lighter than Brittany's own ocean-blue ones.

She was a little shorter, too, Brittany realized. She could see the other passengers by looking over her shoulder. But still, they looked so much alike they could have been taken for sisters.

No wonder Finn had been so angry, she thought. He had been so sure he had caught her. The shorter blonde's resemblance to Brittany must have seemed a cruel and bitter trick.

"Is your name really Brittany?" she blurted out.

A quick smile flitted across the other girl's features. "Yes, it really is. Brittney Bennett."

"I'm Brittany Pierce," Brittany answered. Suddenly, a thought struck her. "How do you spell your name?" Brittany asked and saw the other girl's smile fade into a perplexed frown, her brow furrowed slightly.

"How do I spell my name?" she inquired slowly, continuing only when Brittany gave her an affirmative nod. "Well, I spell it with an N-E-Y. Why?"

Brittany sighed as she looked away, slightly embarrassed that she had asked such a seemingly bizarre question, but also glad that she did. She lifted her gaze back to her companion and smiled. "I just wanted to see if we spelled our names the same way as well. However, I suppose we're not exactly the same, then," Brittany said with a small chuckle. "I spell my name with an A-N-Y."

Brittney smiled slightly and nodded her understanding, but she said nothing else, although she did continue to regard Brittany steadily, almost expectantly, as though she were waiting for something. What it was, Brittany couldn't tell.

Suddenly uncomfortable under the shorter girl's intense gaze, Brittany found herself saying the first thing that came to mind to fill the silence.

"My mother wanted to call me that, after her own mother. But Papa always said Brittany was too long a name for me. I was always dashing from place to place, all the letters would never catch up. So he called me Britt instead."

"Britt," the other girl repeated. "A nickname. I like that. My papa never called me anything if he could help it." There was another awkward pause. "Is that horrible man really your stepbrother?" Brittney burst out.

All of a sudden, Brittany felt exhausted. She sat down hard on the lower berth. After a moment, Brittney sat down beside her. When they turned to face one another, tucking their feet up onto the berth, the two girls were all but hidden from view.

"Yes, he is my stepbrother," Brittany said. "My guardian."

"Oh, but, I thought you said—" Brittney broke off, her face turning bright red. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to pry."

"It's all right," Brittany said. "You can ask me. What is it?"

"I thought you said—" Brittney stammered again.

She's shy, Brittany realized suddenly. She was so shy that Brittney was actually wringing her hands in distress. How on earth had she ever had the courage to stand up to Finn? Brittany wondered. Even I could barely find the gumption to do that.

"I mean—you mentioned your father—"

Suddenly, the tears Brittany had fought back earlier filled her eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep them from spilling over.

"My father is dead," she answered softly. "Not quite two years now. He died on his honeymoon, about a week after he married Finn's mother. After Papa died, Finn and his wife were the only relations I had left. They didn't want to take me in, but they didn't have a choice."

And neither did I, she thought. Until last night. Then, she had taken the only choice she could see, no matter what the consequences.

Brittney's hands stilled. "So your father was a good person," she said. "And you weren't happy living among strangers." Her voice was calm, but Brittany could hear the fine tremor of fear running through it.

"No, I wasn't," she answered honestly. "But I don't think it was because they were strangers. I think it was just because of—who they were. And who I was. They didn't want me, you see. No matter what I did."

"Yes, I see," Brittney said softly. "But, if someone really wanted you, you think it might be all right, even if you didn't know them very well to begin with?" she prompted.

Brittany stared across the berth. Brittney's face looked hopeful, even eager. But, as Brittany looked more closely, she could see the rapid rise and fall of Brittney's chest. Her blue eyes glittered, almost as if she had a fever.

She's desperate, Brittany observed. As desperate as I was.

"If someone really wanted you, I imagine almost anything might be all right," Brittany answered cautiously.

Across the berth, Brittney Bennett looked back down at her hands. "I hope so," she said softly.

"Thank you," Brittany said abruptly.

Brittney looked back up. "What for?"

In spite of the seriousness of their conversation, Brittany gave a helpless spurt of laughter. How could it be that Brittney didn't know what for?

"For hiding me from my stepbrother," she said, mirth still evident in her voice. "If it hadn't been for you—"

"Why did you run away?" Brittney interrupted.

This has to be the strangest conversation I have ever had in my life, Brittany mused. Never had she shared such confidences. But then, she had never had anyone to share them with. After her father's death, there had been no one who cared.

"I discovered something—unpleasant—about my stepbrother," Brittany began. "I discovered that he had been stealing the inheritance my mother left to me. To cover it up he—"

At the thought of Artie Abrams, Brittany felt her heart clench. "He encouraged me to believe that one of his friends was in love with me," she finished in a rush. "Finn wanted me to marry Artie. I think he even would have forced me."

"Because once you were married to his friend, your stepbrother would have been safe," Brittney filled in.

Brittany nodded. Brittney might have been shy, but that didn't mean she was stupid. "Why did you help me?" Brittany asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Brittney's pale skin flushed. Once again, her hands worried one another in her lap. On impulse, Brittany reached with both of her own to cover them.

"It's all right," she reassured the other girl. "You don't have to answer if it makes you upset. I just want you to know how much I appreciate what you did. If there's anything I can ever do for you—"

"It was the look on your face," Brittney interrupted once more.

Whatever answer Brittany had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. "The look on my face?" she asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Now it was Brittney's turn to nod. "You looked so frightened, so—despondent. It was exactly the way I felt inside and so—"

"Don't tell me you're on this train because you're running away, too!" Brittany broke in enthusiastically.

Brittney gave a reluctant breath of laughter. Then she turned her hands over, so that her fingers clutched Brittany's. Looking to the soft blue of the other girl's eyes, Brittany could suddenly see the desperation in them was back. The hunted look had disappeared while Brittney had listened to Brittany tell her story. But now that she was speaking of herself, it had returned with a vengeance.

"No," Brittney replied quietly. "I'm not running away. Just the opposite, in fact. I suppose you could say that I'm running toward." Brittney paused and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'm going to Seattle be married."

"Congratulations!" Brittany cried, knowing it was the wrong thing to say even as she heard herself say it. Being engaged wasn't always cause for celebration, as she herself knew all too well. Judging by the look in Brittney's eyes, Brittany figured her companion knew it as well. "What's their name?"

"Her name is Santana Lopez," Brittney said in so low a voice Brittany had to lean forward to be able to hear it. "My father arranged the marriage just before he died."

"Well," Brittany said, wracking her brain for something else to say. Perhaps if she kept talking long enough, she could discover the cause behind the hunted look in Brittney Bennett's eyes. "What does she look like? How did you meet? Tell me all about her." She shot off the questions with barely a beat between them.

"I don't know," Brittney replied so quietly that Brittany wasn't quite certain that she had heard the shorter blonde correctly.

"You don't know?" she asked incredulously.

Brittney shook her head, a slight blush creeping up her neck at Brittany's bluntness. "I've never seen her," she explained, her voice whisper soft. "All I know is that she's the daughter of my father's dearest childhood friend. Papa and Mr. Lopez, they grew up together. The Lopez's stayed in Seattle, but Papa came east. He arranged the marriage just before he died. He made me promise—on his deathbed—"

"Wait a minute," Brittany cut her companion off, her head reeling. Surely such things didn't happen anymore, did they? This was the twentieth century, after all. "You're on your way to marry a woman you have never even met?"

Mutely, Brittney nodded, her eyes now focused on their joined hands.

"Well, no wonder you're so desperate."

Brittany released Brittney's hands to clap one of her own over her mouth. Her impetuosity had carried her away again. "I'm sorry," she said. "That was thoughtless of me. I shouldn't have said it."

Brittney snapped her gaze back to the taller blonde. "Why not? It's true," she said. "Didn't I say that I thought you looked as desperate as I felt?"

"You did," Brittany admitted. She stared at Brittney, sitting motionless on the far side of the berth. "No wonder you were so worried about strangers," she added softly. "But isn't there anyone else you could go to? What about your mother's family?"

Brittney simply shook her head in response, silently telling Brittany that she had no other family. "If only I could meet Santana first," she suddenly burst out. "Learn what she's like before I marry her. But there's no time—no time at all. She's meeting the train in Seattle and we're going to be married within the week. I don't even know how she feels about it. What if she's angry? What if she hates me?"

Once again, Brittany reached for her newfound friend's hands, seeking to comfort her in any way Brittany could. Her heart went out to the shorter blonde. At least she had known Artie Abrams. But you didn't really, did you? her mind asked. All she'd truly seen of Artie was what he had wished to show her.

How did you really come to know someone, to trust them, Brittany wondered. How did a total stranger become transformed into a friend, a lover, a spouse?

"I'm sorry," Brittany said, remorse evident in her voice. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"Well, now, what do we have here?" a voice said beside her. Brittany jumped, starting so hard her head thumped against the upper berth.

"Mr. Evans!" Brittney exclaimed. Brittany turned to see the porter standing in the aisle next to them. "This is my friend Britt," Brittney continued in a rush. "We got on together in Spokane, don't you remember?"

"Well, now," the porter said again, this time more slowly. His hazel-green eyes traveled from one girl to the other. "Can't say I do," he admitted, even more slowly. Without warning, a smile split his face.

"I can tell you this much, though. I would have a hard time telling you two gals apart. Like two peas in a pod, that's what you are." But his eyes finally focused straight on Brittany. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "But what did you say your name was?"

Brittany swallowed past a huge lump in her throat. "Britt," she said, the tremble in her voice thankfully unnoticeable to anyone except her.

Sam Evans ran his knuckles against one side of his chin. "Britt, huh. That would be short for Brittany, now, generally, wouldn't it?"

Now the lump in Brittany's throat had grown so large that she wasn't sure she could force a single syllable out around it. "Generally," she managed, but this time her voice came out in a croak.

Again, Sam looked from one girl to the other. And once more, his eyes stopped on Brittany. "How far you goin'?" he inquired.

"As far as Seattle," Brittany answered. "But I got to the station too late to buy my ticket. The conductor said I could do it once I was on the train—"

Her voice trailed off as she realized what she had just done: admitted that she and Brittney hadn't boarded the train together. The other girl already had a ticket, and the porter knew it.

Sam eased his cap off, and then scratched his head. Brittany could practically see his mind working, turning over whether or not to ask her any more questions.

"Had some unpleasantness just before we left the depot," the porter said at last. "I don't suppose you happened to see any of that?"

"No, I didn't," Brittany answered promptly. "The cold weather made me feel a little unwell, so I lied down as soon as I boarded. I didn't see a thing until after we left Spokane."

At least it's the truth, she reasoned, relieved that the porter hadn't asked her if she had heard anything before they had left the depot. Then, as she looked into Sam Evans' kind eyes, she had the feeling that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and that he'd phrased his question the way he had on purpose.

"So you couldn't be expected to know anything about that business, then," the blonde porter continued.

"No, sir," Brittany replied softly. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Now she was the one who was worrying them back and forth. "I'm sorry, Mr. Evans," she added after a moment. Her presence on the train could put the porter's job in jeopardy, too, and she was sure that they both knew it.

"Well, now," Sam said for the third and final time. He settled his cap back on his head with one brisk gesture, as though he had come to an important decision.

"No need to apologize for a thing like that, I reckon. Seeing as how it's so late, I'll take care getting your ticket fixed up myself. That way, you can just settle in for a good night's sleep. No need to see the conductor."

Relief swept through Brittany so swiftly she felt light-headed. The porter was sparing her more questions, and more explanations. He wouldn't be the only one to realize that Britt was a nickname for Brittany. So would the conductor, no doubt.

However, if Sam handled getting her ticket himself, the conductor would never need to learn her identity. Brittany would be safe all the way to Seattle. She made quick eye contact with Brittney, who was sitting silently on the far end of the berth. The other girl's mouth turned upward in a slow smile, and Brittany knew her friend had figured out what Sam was doing as well.

"Thank you, Mr. Evans," Brittany whispered sincerely.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Evans," Brittney seconded.

Sam touched one finger to the brim of his cap. "Don't mention it, young ladies. Now I guess we'd better settle up. You're just going the one way?"

Brittany nodded.

"Then I'll need eight dollars," Sam told her.

Brittany reached into her pocket and retrieved the fare, startled to discover that she still had her coat on. In the excitement of hiding from Finn, followed by the revelations during her conversation with Brittney, she had completely forgotten to take it off.

Now the sudden realization that she was wearing her coat made Brittany realize something else. Her lace-up ankle boots and stockings, her skirts and petticoats, from the knees down were soaked clear through. She would catch cold for sure if she didn't change them before retiring for the night.

"Anything else you young ladies need?" Sam asked, smiling warmly.

Brittany brought her mind back to the present with a jerk. "Is there a place where I can change, Mr. Evans?" she asked. "I got pretty wet coming across town in all the snow."

"There's a ladies' washroom right at the end of the car here," the porter gestured. "Though some ladies do prefer to change in their berths."

Brittany didn't see how she would possibly be able to change out of her long skirts and petticoats while lying in her berth, although she could understand why some women might choose to do so.

The sleeping car accommodated both men and women. If a woman changed in the washroom, and then walked back to her berth in her nightclothes, there was no telling who might see her. All a man would have to do was pull aside the curtain in front of his berth to get a good look. There were even stories of men meeting their mistresses on sleeper cars, while wives stayed unsuspectingly at home.

Fortunately for Brittany, however, the washroom was near the berth Brittney had already chosen. She wouldn't have far to go to reach the washroom. Now that she thought about it, Brittany realized at least one woman had passed by during her conversation with Brittney. But Brittany had been so wrapped up in what she and her new friend were saying that she hadn't paid anyone else any attention.

"Thank you, Mr. Evans," she said once more.

"Don't mention it," the porter answered. "You young ladies have a good night's sleep, now. We'll be west of the mountains by the time you wake up in the morning. The trip'll be over before you know it."

He turned and moved back down the aisle. Just before he passed out of earshot, Brittany swore she heard him chuckling, "Just like two peas in a pod."

She glanced across at Brittney to see that she had heard Sam, too. "We really do look alike, you know. We could easily be taken for sisters."

Brittney nodded. "I know. I think it's part of what made me want to help you. When I looked at you, it was just like looking at myself."

All of a sudden, Brittany sat bolt upright, hardly noticing when her head bumped the upper berth for the second time that night, the need to change her cold, wet skirts forgotten. She had just found the perfect way to pay Brittney back for her kindness, and protect herself, too.

"For heaven's sake, what is it?" Brittney demanded, startled by the taller blonde's abrupt movement. "You're not really ill, are you?"

"No," Brittany answered. "But to tell you the truth, I don't feel much like myself."

This might well be the most impulsive thing that she had ever done, even more impetuous than running away. She could practically hear all the letters that made up her name frantically running to catch up with her. By the time they got there, Brittany had decided.

"I don't feel like myself at all," she said, unable to suppress a mischievous grin. She leaned forward, placing her hands on Brittney's shoulders, bringing her face within inches of her new friend's.

"As a matter of fact," Brittany Pierce said to Brittney Bennett, "I think I feel like you."


A/N: So. I was going to have Brittany and Brittney have the exact same name, but just refer to our Brittany as "Britt" the whole time, but I'm not a fan of calling Brittany "Britt" unless she's being spoken to. And, I thought maybe it would be too confusing to call the other girl "Brittany" all the time. Hence, the different spelling, but same pronunciation. I hope it's not too bad? Let me know if it's not working, por favor. :)

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be back with chapter 5 soon! :)