You guyssssss. You inspire me. 500 words and I already got reviews saying you guys love the story? You're amazing. You make me want to spend my time writing for you guys instead of doing my summer AP English assignment, much like this very moment. Thank you, loves.

Also, to the Guest who responded to the fact that Brittany has Sam's last name, it's a very important part of the story. Don't worry. It'll start to make sense in later chapters.

So, here's chapter 2. Hope you enjoy it.

Btw, I've been waiting for summer so that I could work on this as frequently as I/you guys want without giant gaps in between updates. I'll be updating more frequently now. Love you guys. MUAH! (:

A summer assignment? Really? I've been thinking the same thing ever since I found out about it on the last day of English II. I thought it as I was searching the library for that damn book. I thought it as I had to actually buy the book because it seemed like it was checked out of every library by every McKinley High soon-to-be junior. I thought it as I actually read the book and actually thoroughly enjoyed the book. And now, I'm thinking it as I'm looking at my junior year schedule and the fact I have English every. fucking. day. Don't get me wrong, I love English. I'm actually an aspiring writer. But having such a rigorous class every. fucking. day. is complete bullshit because, as much as I love to write, I really hate reading. I have an attention span the size of an ant... or Puck's dick.

Every summer, the McKinley High students post their schedules on Facebook, Twitter, etc. to see who they have classes with. I screenshot the schedule and upload it to my wall, making comments about each class.

1. What the hell is Sociology?

2. Music. The teacher is so hot.

C. Lunch. Please don't be full of freshmen. I swear, they force the razor blades to slowly inch out of my hair.

D. English. Every. Fucking. Day. And who the hell is Mrs. Evans?

4. Trig. Again.

5. US History... =/

6. Chemistry. Sounds easy.

8. Drama. YES.

I get a comment. From Lucas Gottesman. Creep. He tried to cop a feel at Quinn's pool party this Summer, as if the fact that I was at the party practically sexin' it up in the pool with Finn meant nothing.

"We have second period together! Can't wait! (;"

Creep. At that, I turn off the computer and sulk. My schedule is shit. This year will be shit. Shit.

I lie back on my bed with the phone in my hand. I go down my contact list. I stop at Rachel's name and hover over the button. Squint my eyes at the name on the screen.

"Quinn, I really don't wanna be here. Who wants to talk to stupid incoming freshmen?"

"People who need service learning hours to graduate. Namely, you," Quinn points out as I we make our way to our respective booths. I glance at the sign on the table in front of Quinn. MATH TEAM.

"Nice choice, nerd." She rolls her eyes at me. Before she can make a smartass retort, the incoming freshmen start to pile in. Oh boy.

"Hey, diva! Why don't you sign up for glee club?" I hear a mom say to her daughter. The young girl doesn't even glance my way before she says, "Ew, no." Well, shit.

The kids walk around looking not even remotely interested. What these kids don't know is that this school is their best chance at actually becoming a decent human being. This school changes you. You can let the harassment or the praise make you or break you, but, either way, you leave a better person after just the first year. I'd never admit this out loud, of course, but I'm extremely grateful for McKinley High. Especially since I met the three most important people in my life- my best friends, Mercedes and Quinn, and the most amazing, beautiful girl I've ever met, Sugar. Yeah, she was cheating on Artie with me, but she loves me. I just know it. She was gonna break up with him soon. That's what she tells me, anyways.

I sigh. No one's coming to this damn booth. Who the hell wants to join glee club? Everyone coming into high school wants to be a cheerleader or a football player or some cliche shit. And somehow I got roped into glee. But I love it. I kind of hope some freshmen join the club next year.

My thoughts get interrupted by the sound of someone's throat being cleared. I look up and am instantly mesmerized. Standing before me is quite possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Her long brown hair cascades down her shoulders so artfully, like perfect waves crashing onto the shore in the most picturesque way. Her eyes are the perfect shade of brown. I'm halfway drowned in them when she speaks up.

"Hello. I'm Rachel Berry." Her voice is demanding. And even with only these four words spoken, I can already tell that she's a handful.

"Um, hello, Rachel. Do you have any questions about the glee club?" Why did that sound so lame. It's procedure, I tell myself.

"Aren't you supposed to give me some type of information first? You know, like an introductory thing?" She's looking at me as if I'm an idiot, but her eyes are dancing with humour. It's a little unsettling. Especially since I can't tell what she finds so humorous- the fact that I obviously have no idea what I'm doing, or the fact that she can probably visibly see how nervous she makes me. Either way, I have to muster up the intelligence to do my job right now.

"Well, our club is led by Mr. Schuester. He's great. I mean, we sing. A lot."

"Really?" The humor remains plastered inside her eyes, conflicting with her bored sounding sarcasm. Everything about her is so contradicting. I take a moment to gather myself as discreetly as I can with her standing only across a table.

"What I mean is that we are very diverse. We sing all types of music- pop, rock, hip hop, R&B, country-"

"Broadway classics?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The great Broadway classics? Streisand? Lupone? Peters? The Tony Award winning greats and Broadway legends?" Her eyes are lighting up in the most beautiful way. In a way that displays so much passion for what she's talking about- whatever it is.

"Oh, um, yeah. We can do Strickland-"

"Streisand."

"Right," I smile at her. And for the first time since we've been speaking, she smiled, and in that moment, I know that I'd have burst into any ridiculous show tune that she wanted just to see that smile again for just a second. The moment is ruined by the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling out.

"Rachel, sweetie! Come and talk to the drama club rep. You'll love it."

"Coming, daddy!" She turns back to me, the smile only showing in her eyes this time.

"Well," she says hastily grabbing a pen from the table, scribbling her signature on the signup sheet, "I'll see you next year." Before she turns away there's a look in her eyes that I can't decipher, but it gives makes something inside of my ache for her. There's an unfamiliar emptiness in my chest, and she's only been gone for a few seconds.

I sigh and roll over to sit the phone on the nightstand. Once I start thinking about her, I can never stop. I need to sleep. I turn off the light, enveloping myself in the darkness of the room and my thoughts of her until I slowly drift away.