Ch 3: Unicorn
The next morning Santana found the picture that Brittany had drawn her carefully taped to the inside of her locker door. It was, Santana had guessed right, the doodle that Brittany had been working on in history the day before.
Lord Tubbington thinks you're purrrrrfect. And so do I.
Santana grinned and reached in to fish out her English notes for first period.
"If that little piece of work thinks she is going to get Maria without a fight she has another thing coming to her. Seriously, Artie, if you pick Rachel I swear to god I'll..." Even with her head half immersed in her locker Santana picked up the ringing tones of Mercedes voice approaching.
"Mercedes you know that as the director I have to keep my relationship with my potential cast-members strictly formal for now. I'm making no promises." Santana ducked her face further into her locker as she heard the ticking of the wheels of Artie's wheelchair and hoped that they would pass by without speaking to her- she did not need another berating about the stupid pianos like she'd received earlier on in the car park care of Kurt and Rachel.
"You know Santana, I thought you would have at least thought about preserving the dignity of Blaine before doing what you did," Rachel had said. "Now everyone is going to look at him and see your ridicule of his performance rather than his potential to become my male lead."
"Your male lead?" Kurt had rounded on her with his eyebrows raised.
Santana had taken advantage of that moment to walk away, leaving them in front of her car bickering, completely obvious to her absence.
When Santana heard Artie's clicking wheels stop and caught a glimpse of his feet curled onto the wheelchair stirrups from below her locker door, Santana knew her escape wouldn't be as easy this time around. She huffed a sigh and banged the locker closed.
The thwaking sound made Artie jump and caused Mercedes to pull a face.
"Oh hell no. First Rachel and now her? Heeelllll no. I am not putting up with two divas in my first few hours at school. I'm out." She let go of Artie's wheelchair handles and strode away down the hall.
Santana turned to watch Mercedes go, ignoring Artie.
"Uh Santana?" Artie cleared his throat nervously. When she dragged her eyes back around to look at him he was blinking up at her, his gloved hands fiddling nervously with the bars on his wheels.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Look McCripple, I haven't got the time, the desire or the right dosage of sedatives to listen to you harp on about what happened yesterday. So please just...roll along." She flicked her fingers, directing him away but he held his ground, frowning so that his glasses dug into the bridge of his nose.
"No-no, it's not that I wanted to talk to you about." He hesitated. "Has Brittany mentioned anything to you about the school musical?"
Santana flinched. She did not think there was anyone worse than Artie to talk about Brittany with. Even hearing her name on his lips made her insides curl. It was a similar feeling to the one she got every time she spotted the prom photo of them on Brittany's wall in her bedroom. His smile in that photo reminded her of Finn's gassy one and she almost always got the urge to go hang out with Brittany's toilet bowl whenever it caught her eye.
She held up a hand.
"Strike two four-eyes. You have one left and then I am going to go and get a full body sterilization bath to wash away the residue of this conversation."
He rolled his eyes.
"So your answer is no, she didn't tell you?"
"She did actually. She's going to audition for the roll of Diesel."
"Uh...okay. Well I was just wondering if you'd maybe considered auditioning too?"
Santana snorted. "For Diesel?"
"W-what? N-no." Then under his breath he muttered, "Gosh, you're not that much of a lesbian."
Santana felt that like a smack across the face.
"Excuse me?" She bristled. "Strike three loser. I'm do-"
"I meant for Anita!" He raised his voice and his gloved hand caught her arm as she turned to leave.
"Anita?" Despite herself, Santana was intrigued.
"Yeah. She has some great lines and songs and I just thought- well you'd be perfect. I-I'm not just giving you the part, I have to confer with my producers over that one. But I'd love for you to audition. And this way you can still hang out with us glee club kids and sing and stuff until you decide if you want to come back or not. Mr Shue's not involved anymore so it's not like he'd care." He turned his wheel chair slightly more toward her, ducking his head to get her to look at him. Reluctantly, she obliged.
"I know we haven't... I mean, I know there's been a lot of..." He sighed and shook his head then tried again. "I know that it's over with Britt and me, and yeah I was sad for ages but she deserves to be happy. And even if the reason you are the one to make her happy confuses me as much as that time I tried to learn Pig-Klingon, I've accepted it. There's no point fighting what you can't change. So just think about it okay? I truly think you'd be great."
Santana dropped her eyes back to the floor. She had no words and Artie must have known that because she saw the small wheels of his chair turn and heard the bigger ones click as he wheeled away. When she looked up he had disappeared into the throng of students heading towards their classes.
/
Santana had decided to run laps during lunch to burn off the sinking feeling she'd gotten in second period when Brittany told her that she couldn't eat lunch with her because she had a glee club meeting.
She ran around the track once, twice, three times- until she lost count. When she stopped her legs and lungs were burning and she was sweating. She headed to the bleachers to her water bottle and noticed a girl in a Cheerio's uniform coming towards her with the long legged, ponytail swishing bounce that was Brittany's walk.
She approached Santana and stood in front of her with her feet pressed together. Her head swung back at the momentum of the grin that swept onto her face. Santana laughed and shook her head in bemusement.
"What are you so happy about Britt Britt?" She said, swallowing her gulp of water.
"Well," Brittany inhaled. "I now know who the President is which is nice. And also," She swung down onto the bench beside Santana, her ponytail whipping the scent of Santana's shampoo towards her. She'd used it in the shower this morning, with Santana's help. This memory made Santana momentarily lose track of the conversation.
"Hmm?"
"I said Kurt said he'd let me be his campaign manager for senior class president."
"That's great Britt." Santana fanned herself and took another swig of water.
"Yes. It's going to be unicorn themed. I gave him a brief outline of the essay that I've prepared for the unicorn Wikipedia page and even though he said it scared him, I think people have to know the truth. And Kurt is just so comfortable with who he is and I think that's part of what it takes to be a unicorn."
"If I were a mythological creature I'd be a sphinx," Santana mused.
"Well you could be a unicorn if you decided to talk about The Thing We Never Talk About."
"Britt..." Santana said warningly, shooting a glance around them. Luckily no one was in earshot.
"Sorry. I don't know what sphinxes are but I can totally look them up in the mythical creatures Wikipedia portal and check how closely they're related to unicorns if you'd like me to."
Santana turned on the bench to face her, giving her a grateful smile.
"I actually have something to share as well."
"Oh you do? What is it?"
"I've decided to audition for the musical." Brittany tilted her head back and circled her fists around in a little groove. Then she held out one of them for a fist bump. Laughing, Santana obliged.
"That is super, super unicorn. Who are you auditioning for?"
Santana took a breath. She knew she was going to have to tell Brittany about what Artie had done, even if she despised having to say anything that made him look good.
"Artie actually asked me if I'd audition for Anita." Britt's eyes widened and she leant back, looking Santana up and down briefly.
"Ohhh totally. Yeah I can see that. Nice work Artie. I'm glad you're going to do it." She did another impromptu shoulder groove.
Santana had decided to audition during her run. As much as she tried to deny it, the prospect had caused excitement to swell within her. It also helped dull the guilt over what she'd done to the pianos. The mind numbing beat of her feet against the running track had allowed her to fantasize- she pictured the kick of the hem of her dress as she whirled on stage, curving her tongue around the Puerto Rican accent. The dance, the songs, the applause, it all rang in her head as she jogged around the track. And as she ran, she grinned to herself. This was something she could do. This was something she could fight for.
"I better shower before fourth period," She said to Brittany, rising from the bench and holding out her pinkie.
They came to the door of the girls changing room and Santana unlinked their pinkies, brushing a quick kiss on Brittany's cheek. She pushed the door open but stopped short when she noticed Brittany moving to follow her.
"Wait," Santana put out a hand to halt her. "You're not coming in with me are you?"
Brittany shrugged and looked down at her hands.
"I liked the shower with you so much this morning that I thought we could do it again. I can just steal one of Coach Beiste's towels that she uses after weightlifting. She keeps them in the cupboard behind th-" Santana hurriedly clamped a hand down upon Brittany's moving lips as a group of athletics guys jostled past them and into the boys changing room. When their noise had been stifled by the closing door Santana removed her hand.
"Britt," she sighed and shook her head. "I can't do that. Not at school."
Brittany's cheeks were flushed. She looked stung.
"Okay that's fine. I've got to go and get a book out about historical presidential campaigns from the library anyway." She turned to go and Santana felt panic tear through her at Brittany's disappointment.
"Hey Britt! Hey, wait." She snatched Brittany's hand and squeezed, stepping closer and lowering her voice. The husk was there without her even having to try.
"Come over tonight. I'll rent West Side Story and we can decide what we want to wear to our auditions. Then later we can take however longer shower you want. Scratch that, we can take a bath. Candles, bubbles, sweet lady kisses?"
Brittany's smile was back. It made Santana ache.
"That sounds magical and so tempting Santana but I'm going over to Kurt's to work on the campaign. I brought a unicorn headband from home and everything. Another night?"
"Yeah, Britt," Santana said, notching up her tone to hide the disappointment. "Another night for sure."
"Bye Santana."
Santana watched Britt leave, feeling the guilt she thought she'd escaped during her run press upon her again. When Brittany had gone out of sight Santana turned and pushed open the changing room door. Inside it was deserted and it stayed that way the whole time Santana was in the shower. Its emptiness filled with all the taunting possibilities of what she could have been doing with Brittany if she hadn't been so lame. If she had been more of a unicorn.
/
The next day Santana found herself pacing nervously in the wings of the auditorium. She wasn't entirely sure why she was there, and though it seemed like a good idea during her run, it felt ridiculous and lame now. Behind her, features tight with concentration, Rachel was running her voice up and down the scale, her fingers tightly jammed in her ears.
"Hey Snooki, you might want to take your fingers out of your ears so you can hear yourself," Santana called over to her. Rachel snapped open her eyes, stopped llaa-ing and removed her fingers from her ears.
"Santana I'm trying to focus. In order to do that I mustn't be able to hear anything except my own inner conscious. Please leave me alone." Her voice was coated with an odd strain and her eyes were puffy and red.
"You've been crying," Santana said matter-of-factly. Rachel's fingers were halfway back up to her ears but she dropped them, sliding her eyes away from Santana's.
"Yes," she replied stiffly.
The sound of Puck's voice, raised in a poor attempt at a Puerto Rican accent, drifted from the stage and over to them. He was auditioning for Bernardo. Santana laughed and rolled her eyes at the sound. Rachel remained still.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Oh come on," Santana snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "You look like you've just been told that the Muppets aren't looking for a Jewish member. I'm going to suggest you try Sesame Street, they're much more accepting."
"My Mom is working at McKinley, heading a glee club for that Sugar girl," Rachel dead-panned. Santana let her self-amused smile fall.
"Oh."
"Yep." Rachel shifted off the stool and padded lightly nearer the stage to look out at Puck. "She brought Beth too obviously."
"Jesus." Santana muttered, remembering Quinn. Santana still hadn't really tried to get her to come around. She'd approached her once but their conversation didn't get very far because Quinn's group of skanks joined them and Santana, preferring to avoid a second bout of herpes, had left.
"It must be real confusing for you."
Rachel shrugged. "A shock. But all the best stars have complicated pasts. I mean look at Natalie Wood who played Maria in the 1961 film of West Side Story. Her Grandfather was murdered after a disagreement with the Russian mafia."
"Wasn't she murdered too?"
"Well, she drowned, but there is a popular conspiracy that..."
"Okay, okay." Santana held up her hand. "Forget I asked."
"My point is that I can be sad and confused about Shelby or I can channel all my feelings about it in order to get closer to the emotional truth of my songs." Rachel had resumed her briskness alarmingly quickly but it was sort of comforting to Santana- she preferred to ignore the fact that Rachel was a human with actual feelings.
"You should take a leaf out of my book," Rachel said.
"I'd rather d-"
"I know, I know," Rachel interrupted, holding up her hand. "I-I just think that you can totally take all that...erm...rage...and put it into your songs rather than into bitchy, albeit freakishly well choreographed acts of arson."
Santana snorted. "Yeah?"
Rachel opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by Puck coming off stage.
"I nailed that almost as hard as I've nailed you Santana."
"Shut it ass face," she snapped.
"Nah, nah. I'm sorry. You're up next, Artie told me to tell you. Good luck!"
"Good luck Santana!" Their voices sounded muffled as all the blood rushed to Santana's ear drums. Her stomach was knotted in on itself and she slid her palms down the sides of her dress to dry them.
She walked onto the stage, away from Rachel and Puck and stood blinking in the spot light. She could just make out the figures of Coach Beiste, Artie and Miss Pillsbury sitting in the judges' booth. Artie leaned forwards and pulled the microphone on the desk towards him.
"Good to see you made it Santana. What are you going to sing for us?"
She'd chosen A Boy Like That, one she'd be required to sing if she got the part.
Artie made a note on the pad in front of him.
"Great," Miss Pillsbury smiled. "Whenever you're ready."
Santana closed her eyes and blanked her mind.
Then she filled it with colour. Red.
It was the colour of fire and glamorous lipstick and passion and romance. It was the colour of Brittany's moans as Santana drifted like smoke across her body. It was the colour of everything she'd ever wanted to say but just couldn't. She sung in the colour red. Even if that didn't quite make sense and even though the words of the song meant something different. She used her voice to colour them.
/
Brittany's cheeks were burnt with shame as she stood in front of Santana, forlornly clutching one of the Unicorn posters she'd made the night before at Kurt's house. The same poster that Kurt had just yelled at her to take down.
"I've failed my precious unicorn," she mumbled. Santana could have hit Hummel as he stormed off in the other direction with Rachel, his ridiculous white leather boots squeaking on the linoleum of the school corridor. Around them, dozens of bright pink unicorn posters like the one Brittany was clutching shone on the walls due to all the glitter Brittany had scattered over them. Santana's hands were covered with the stuff.
"No. Ugh, look, this campaign is brilliant."
"Really?" Brittany's mouth hardly moved and her eyes searched Santana's sceptically.
"Completely. And if he," she jerked her head back in the direction Kurt had gone, "doesn't get it then he doesn't deserve to have you as his campaign manager."
Brittany didn't look convinced. Santana softened her voice and stepped closer, searching for the right words.
"There's no one like you. You're a genius Brittany. You are the unicorn."
The smile came slowly to Brittany's features. But when it did, Santana felt herself constrict at the way it rearranged Brittany's sad face. Satisfied, she turned and headed for the door, holding out a pinkie for Britt.
After a few steps Santana stopped and looked back. Brittany hadn't moved, her eyes were glazed over but the smile remained.
"Britt Britt? Come on, it's Sweet Valley High time."
When Brittany fell into step beside Santana she nudged her with a shoulder. Santana looked up into that 1000 watt smile and felt her legs weaken slightly.
"Thank you for saying that."
"Don't thank me. The truth doesn't cost a thing."
"No but. You were right and I've had an idea that I should run for senior class president."
"You are definitely unicorn enough," Santana agreed.
"It's settled then," Brittany said.
They reached the car park and arrived in front of Santana's black Nissan. Santana fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked it, sliding into its stuffy interior. As she started the car and moved out of the car park Brittany wound down her window and set her legs up to it, resting her ankles on the ledge.
"This is going to be great. We've only ever had guy presidents as far back as I can remember," Santana said- trying not to let the bare stretch of Brittany's thigh distract her from the road.
"The last one was definitely a guy. I know because I slept with him," Brittany said.
"Brad Mitchell?" Santana asked. "Me too."
They caught one another's eye and began to laugh.
/
They had already planned the layout for Brittany's campaign posters when they reached Santana's house. The garage was empty so Santana parked her car in her Dad's spot and they headed up to her room.
"You know what you could do?" Santana said, dropping her bag on the floor and spinning excitedly to Brittany.
"Feed bananas to my sea monkeys? No, I've tried that already."
Santana blinked. "What? No. But I totally think the theme- other than unicorns- should be like... Girl power."
Brittany was sucking on a strand of her hair in a business like way.
"Totally. It can be like lady take over." She did jazz hands through the air in front of her face.
"Yeah! And we could try organising a flash mob to get the ball rolling!" Santana was way more into this than she had thought she would be. But then again, this was Brittany they were talking about.
"Yeah! Totally!" Brittany spat the lock of hair out and paused, her eyes darting across Santana's body. Her expression became shy suddenly and she sidled closer to Santana, reaching out to tug at one of the flaps of Santana's Cheerios skirt.
"You have glitter all over you," she said, smiling faintly.
Santana felt her temperature rise at the husk in Brittany's voice.
"So do you," she said slowly, trying to read Brittany's expression.
"You know what would be really unicorn right now?" Brittany's voice was so soft Santana had to strain to hear.
"What?" She mouthed.
"If we did what you suggested last time and um...Take a bath to...you know..." Santana's insides twitched.
"To...wash all this glitter off?" She finished.
Brittany's smile was all across her face as she nodded slowly, tugging Santana by her Cheerios skirt towards the bathroom.