My alarm buzzes annoyingly, reminding me that Christmas vacation is over. I am not looking forward to this day. A day of questioning and sympathetic nods and hugs is all it's bound to be. No doubt everyone has heard by now.
Brit and I rung in the New Year together a few nights back. As we toasted each other with the bubbly grape juice her mom bought us, we made a promise to move on from this, no matter what it took. Brit called it our New Years "Revolution". I found it too cute to correct her.
Since I have yet to pick up my car from the mall parking lot, Brit is picking me up today. I can't find the strength to go back to that place yet. I have barely slept in the last week and I know Brittany hasn't either. I'm dreading going to see our nut job counselor today but hopefully it will help Brittany to talk about it. My mom pounds on my door to make sure I'm awake. This is her usual routine; we've always had a difficult relationship. We don't speak much normally, but since the incident at the hospital we haven't spoken at all. I don't reply and she doesn't expect me to.
I settle on a pair of ripped jeans and a long sleeve striped polo. I'm not in the mood to make any fashion statements today, I'll be lucky just to get through an entire school day at this point. I'm filled with rage. Every time I close my eyes I hear Brittany's sobs and my mind replays the terror in her eyes as I stood there and did nothing to protect her. I feel like I could rip someone apart.
I hear the horn of Brit's Mazda blare in the driveway. Her parents bought it for her on the condition she kept her grades up. She has straight D's, but they don't have the heart to take it from her. She tries her best.
I peek through the window and signal to her that I'll be right down. I pull my hair into a tight ponytail and brush my teeth quickly. I take the steps two at a time and grab my bag which has been by the front door since break started. Brit waves to me as I jog to her car.
"Hey babe," I say as I get in, leaning over for a good morning kiss.
"Hi," she replies, smoothing her purple and black plaid skirt before returning her hands to the steering wheel. Her outfit is complete with black stockings and a white button down top, offset with a black headband. She looks smoking hot. She backs out of the driveway, nearly taking out our mailbox like she always does, and we head to school.
Brit and I explain our situation and get excused from first period. She's shaking nervously as we wait for Ms. Pilsbury. I put my hand on her knee to calm her down. She looks up and smiles at me.
"It'll be okay," I whisper. She leans over and rests her head on my shoulder, her intoxicating scent taking me to a fantasy world. I get angrier as I stare at the objects on Ms. Pilsbury's desk, all perfectly straight and in their place. It's glorious and pisses me off at the same time. I want to knock it all on the floor. I want to destroy something beautiful.
"Hey girls, how was break?" she enters, so chipper I could vomit. Brittany glances at me and gains the understanding that I really don't want to talk. She clears her throat.
"There's something that happened that we really want to talk to you about," Brittany announces. She sits and folds her hands together, listening intently.
"We got mugged at the mall," she says. It's the first time either of us has said it aloud since that night, and the words cut right through me. Ms. Pilsbury looks at me, suddenly fully aware of where the bruises on my face are from.
"Are you two okay?" she finally chokes out, her bug eyes drilling a hole through me. Brit's already crying. I just sigh and cross my arms.
"It was really scary. And Santana got really hurt and had to go to the hospital," she cries. I close my eyes in frustration, preparing for the onslaught of questions headed my way.
"How are you feeling, Santana?" she asks.
"I'm fine," I grumble.
"I know it must be a hard thing to go through. Have you talked to anyone besides me?" she asks.
"No, and I'm not going to, either. I've always dealt with my own shit and this is no different. I'm fine. I'm here for Brittany," I snap.
"Santana, I understand your need to feel independent, but if you're feeling scared or upset or angry you need to address it. If not with me then maybe your other friends…somebody who can give you an outside perspective or help you get your mind off it all together,"
"Wow that's great advice…lean on friends…I'm so glad I came. Where'd you get your psychology degree, the University of Mail- in orders?" I quip at her.
"Santana!" Brittany shouts, getting frustrated with me.
"Brit, I'm sorry but I can't do this. I've never been able to talk about my feelings to anyone but you, and this isn't going to change me. I love you, but I'm sorry I cannot talk about this,"
"Fine but you don't have to be so mean, Ms. Pilsbury is just trying to help," she scolds me.
"Fair enough, can I go back to class?"
"Go ahead Santana, I'm here if you change your mind," she reminds me and hands me a pamphlet titled "Coping with Violent Crimes" I shove it in my back pack and lean next to Brittany.
"Are we okay? I ask.
"Yes but I'm staying here and talking," she explains. I nod and kiss her on the cheek. I can tell she's irritated but she never stays mad at me long so I shrug it off.
I head to my locker to grab a few books before I head back to class. I see Quinn up ahead coming straight toward me. She catches my gaze and I break it instantly, already sick of explaining what's left of my bruises to people.
"Yo bitch, why weren't you and Brit at my New Year's party?" she asks nudging into me. The physical contact sends a fiery rage through my body.
"Don't touch me," I reply bitterly, clenching my fists.
"Woah, what's your problem?" she asks, taken aback.
"Nothing…sorry…I don't want to talk about it,"
"Okay, cool…just chill okay? What happened to your face?" she asks.
"Still don't want to talk about it. Had a rough break. Sorry we missed the party, we just laid low that night," I explain, opening my locker. She leans against the lockers next to me and shakes her head, grinning.
"You missed quite a night. Everybody hooked up with someone," she says.
"Well I would've just ended up hooking up with Brit, so what did I miss really?" I ask.
"You're weird today," she says raising an eyebrow at me.
"Whatever," I mumble, slamming my locker shut.
"Did I do something to you? God," she whines.
"No it's not you, okay? Just drop it, please," I beg her.
"Fine, whatever," she groans and walks away. That's it. I need to get out of here. I hurl my books at the row of lockers and sprint for the door.
"Hey! Get back here!" I hear coach Sylvester yell. But it's too late; I'm gone.