The drive to school was brutal. I'm raging even worse today. I thought about my sister. I thought about the man from the mall. I thought about Jamie.
Brittany has another meeting with Ms. Pilsbury today. Myself, I was barely in the door when I heard it.
"Santana Lopez to the office, please,"
So here I sit, a splitting headache, with coach Sylvester on my left and Figgins staring me down from across the desk. Coach's eyes are burning a hole through me. She's been pretty rough on me since I left her precious Cheerios last year. Sure, I was good, but I only joined that crap for popularity and to watch Brittany hop around in a skirt.
"I suggest expulsion," she says before I even realize what we're talking about.
"What?" my head snaps up quickly and I wince in pain. That was stupid.
"I think that's a little harsh, Sue," Figgins interjects.
"Not in the slightest. There are rules here,"
"Don't expel me, please, my parents will kill me," I beg.
"Ms. Lopez, you fled school grounds during class hours, that will not go unpunished," he says.
"In fact you will be punished to the fullest extent of the law. My law," she growls at me. I'm disgusted with myself at this moment, and pull out my ace in the hole.
"Coach, please. Stuff at home has been really bad. My mom's been drinking a lot again and dad's never around and I miss Ang…" I whimper. I immediately see her eyes wander from the locked in contact with my own and drift a few inches over to the bruising on my cheek.
"Is this her work?" she asks, pointing to the wounds. I nod pathetically and look down at my feet. Sure, I'm stretching the truth a bit, but Coach Sylvester knows how ugly things can get in my house. Hell, I'm the one she leaned on when she lost her own sister last year. She had even given me two weekend passes for Cedar Point and pulled some strings to get my algebra grade bumped up, all the while threatening to make my life hell if I shed light of her sweet side to anyone. I hear her sigh and she crumbles up whatever paper she had been scribbling on.
"Look kid, I know things at home get tough. But you need to get your act together here at school. Do we need to call somebody about your mom?" she asks.
"No! Please don't…it'll make it so much worse. I promise I'll be better, please don't call anyone," I beg.
"Fair enough. Look, I have to punish you. Show up for detention today and tomorrow after school. If you come to school with bruises like this again, I'm going to have no choice but to call someone. And if you pull crap like you pulled yesterday, your punishment will be mandatory reinstatement with the Cheerios as my number one lackey. Are we clear?" she states.
"Yes…" I mumble and make my way for the door.
"Lopez," she says, barely audibly and I turn around.
"My door's always open," she chokes out, and we both feel uncomfortable. I nod silently and walk out into the hall, coming face to face with Quinn.
"Hey," I mumble, trying to get my wits about me. I'm never one for apologizing, except for when Brittany flashes me her puppy dog eyes after I accidentally eat the last yellow gummy bear, but I know my blow up at Quinn yesterday was pretty uncalled for and I should probably make amends.
"So, can we talk about yesterday?" she asks, crossing her arms. I know it's out of concern, not anger. We've gotten in our spiffs before, and up until last night I had always considered them real fights, when in reality we hadn't done much but slap and shove each other into a few lockers. We would always make up hours later and end up hiding under the bleachers with my dad's flask talking about sneaking to Cleveland for a Killers concert and our dreams of getting out of Lima after high school.
"Look…it's just…I…well…" I stutter…the word sorry doesn't roll of my tongue easily, and honestly I'd rather just hug it out and move on.
"There's just a lot going on in my life right now," I choke out. Her appearance softens and she steps closer to me.
"Brit told me about the mugger. I don't know why you couldn't just tell me," she whispers, not wanting others to hear us.
"I just really don't want to talk about it, Quinn. Please understand that. I found a way to deal, I'm fine," I tell her.
"You're not like doing drugs or anything are you?" she asks so quietly I can barely hear her.
"No, look, it's nothing like that. I can't really talk about it. I'm fine though, okay?" I insist.
"Q, Lopez, get to class!" coach hollers outside the office door. Quinn shoots me a sympathetic smirk, but eyes me up and down suspiciously as she saunters off. It's weird to say the least but I shrug it off and head to class.
School's over and I'm eighteen minutes into my hour long detention. Puck's here, of course, sleeping in a desk behind me. Other than that the room is crammed with underclassmen. Coach Bieste is running detention today, and even though she told us all to work on homework, I've stayed quite content perched up on one elbow staring at the clock. I imagine all the places I could be instead of here. I imagine I'm sprawled out on my bed, making out with Brittany.
She's dressed in a bikini…no, even better, a slutty school girl outfit. I feel my eyes flutter closed as I picture her sauntering toward my bed, shirt unbuttoned and hair a complete mess. She pulls the loose tie from around her neck and uses it to tie my hands together above my head. Her hips start to sway to music only she can hear in her head but I don't care. She prances around seductively in stocking clad legs and I can't help but stare at her perfectly shaped ass crammed amazingly into that fucking plaid skirt.
"Do you like this baby?" she mumbles, crawling onto the foot of the bed and snaking her way up my body.
"Oh god yeah," I groan out loud, forgetting for a moment that it's just a fantasy. A few chuckles cause my eyes to snap open in embarrassment and shock.
"Something you want to share with the group there, Lopez?" Coach Bieste looks up from her book, intrigued and annoyed. Fuck, why did I have to go turn myself on like that?
"No…no," I mutter, hanging my head in my hands.
"Wet dream? Nice," Puck whispers behind me.
"Shut up," I snap back.
"Was it about Brittany? Was she naked?" he continues to pester me.
"Shove it, Puck!" I quip back a little louder.
"Hey! Both of you pipe down or you can redo your detention Saturday!" Coach Bieste hollers. I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, completely frustrated. I can't wait to get out of here.
It's eight at night. I'm sitting in my car at the warehouse again. I came here on a hunch that these bitches do this nightly and I'm ready to redeem myself from last night's fiasco. So after a quick post-detention make out session with Brittany, a quick lie about a fake SAT prep class to my mother and a few energy drinks from the gas station, here I am. I take a sip out of the second can and as I tip my head back down I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I swallow the berry flavored liquid, already feeling the caffeine pumping through my blood stream. It's a sickening combination, bonded with some left over sexual frustration from this afternoon and the bittersweet hallucination I had of my sister last night. What are you so scared of Lopez? Things can't possibly get any worse. The whole school thinks I'm a wuss already. Especially Brittany. She probably tells Ms. Pilsbury what I wimp I was that night. How I let that guy take all her stuff and didn't even fight back. I have to prove them wrong. All of them. I'm not weak. I'm Santana fucking Lopez.
I make my way down the steel steps into the lower level of the warehouse. It looks no different than last night. I clench my fists and gaze around. Adrenaline is pumping through every inch of my body. I need to wreck someone.
"Well, well, well. Look who came back for more. Didn't get enough last night bitch?" Jamie approaches me, wiping somebody's blood off her knuckles.
"I'm not here to fight you, Jamie," I tell her.
"Oh thank God, you really had me shaking in my boots there for a second. Hear that guys? She doesn't want to fight. Thank you for sparing my life there, boss. How can I ever repay you?" she quips, high fiving a few of her friends as they laugh. I choose not to respond and instead lunge forward at her sidekick, tackling her to the ground. The room is instantly filled with shouting and cussing, and everyone takes a step back, giving us room to fight.
"Bad move," the girl says below me and uses only one arm to toss me off onto the concrete next to her. She moves swiftly to her feet and I do the same, holding my fists up. She moves toward me and takes a hard swing with her right hand. I duck, dodging it, only to be blindsided by an equally fast left hook. It collides with my ear with such force that I lose my balance, and all I can hear is buzzing. I manage to stay on my feet though, and she's too impressed with herself to notice. I take a few quick steps toward her and deliver several blows to her midsection. I punch as hard as I can repeatedly until she's doubled over, winded. I deliver a quick shot to her jaw and pull my hand back as the bone on bone contact sends pain shrieking up my arm. She stumbles toward me, sensing my moment of weakness, but I bounce back. As she's about to deliver the kill shot I grab her by the shoulders and snap my neck forward furiously, delivering a vicious head butt and knocking her to the ground instantly. My head is throbbing from the impact. She's unconscious. Holy shit I won. A few of the girls kneel around her to see if she's okay. One checks her pulse and then looks up at me.
"That was fucking awesome dude!" she exclaims, standing up and patting me on the shoulder.
"Beginners luck. Look, we all know Steph's not even a strong fighter. Just because you came in here bitter because I whooped your ass last night doesn't mean you proved anything. Come back tomorrow night, I'll have a real challenge waiting for you," Jamie taunts me. I stare back at her, pissed that she can't just admit I won fair and square, and right when she turns to walk away, she quickly turns back toward me, acting like she's going to take a swing. Her and her friends laugh when it makes me flinch.
"I'll be here," I mutter back at her, turning to leave. As I make my way to the top step and out the door, I am met with an unpleasant surprise.
"Quinn? What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask, shocked to see her outside the building where she had been peeking through a window.
"So this is how you're dealing huh? Fucking fight club?" she interrogates me.
"It's none of your business. How did you find me?" I shout, beyond furious.
"I followed you here from 7/11. This is stupid, Santana. You're going to get yourself killed. If you're pissed about the mugging you should just see a counselor like Brittany,"
"Fuck that, alright? You know me Quinn, you know I can't talk about shit! I mean, fuck…you weren't there that night. I stood there, Quinn. I stood there and let him rob us and didn't even protect her. I talk all this shit about Lima Heights and when I had the chance to back it up I stood there like a fucking coward. Brittany's in her own little world. She needs someone who can protect her, and up until that night I thought it was me. I need to make myself strong for her," I try to explain.
"Santana, you are strong. And tough. Nobody I know would ever dare fuck with you. You can't let that guy change your life. Brittany would hate this and you know it," she tries consoling me.
"Well that's why you can't tell her. Because I'm not going to stop fighting," I tell her firmly.
"So Brittany's off getting counseling about how to cope with violence, and here you are, creating more violence? Look I get that you need to feel brave right now, I can't imagine what you went through that night, but…"
"Yeah, Quinn you're right! You don't know what I went through that night. So get off my back and just be my friend okay? I know what I'm doing," I cut her off, getting frustrated.
"I'm not just going to be cool with this Santana. I am your friend, that's why I don't want you to do this to yourself," she steps closer to me, trying to calm me down.
"Fine then, don't support it, I don't care. Just don't fucking tell anyone, okay? Especially Brittany. I'm doing this for her,"
"Fine," she mutters. I nod gratefully, trusting that we have an understanding and make my way to the car. The side of my face is swollen and my head is killing me. Quinn caught me doing the one thing nobody's supposed to know about and is I catch her at the wrong moment any time from here on out, she could rat me out to Brittany. But only one thing matters right now.
I fucking won.