A/N: As promised, here's the third chapter. I've got a pretty busy schedule this week, so I don't think I'll be able to post the next chapter until this weekend, but I will try to update before then. I hope this can tide you over in the meantime. I really appreciate the reviews I have gotten so far, I know Brittberry (or Pieberry) isn't that huge, but I'm very thankful for the positive response I have gotten!
It wasn't until after second period the next day when I saw Rachel again. She was walking down the hallway to her next class and I casually stepped in her path to stop.
"Are you still tutoring me after school," I asked, not that I cared about the tutoring at all, but getting a ride home was nice.
Her eyes turned down, "Yes, but only if you promise not to embarrass me on your internet show again."
"No problem, that show got the lowest number of hits anyways. Even lower than when my guest was the mud from my backyard," I said. It was another lie of course. Everything was always a lie. That show had actually been one of the highest rated and I had a sneaking suspicion that it was only due to the fact that I had been dangerously close to licking the inside of Rachel's thigh. At the time I was just doing it to set Rachel off again, but after she left, the image of Rachel's tanned thighs wouldn't leave my mind.
I looked down to see what Rachel was wearing on her lower half today and surprise-surprise it was another short plaid skirt of the school girl variety. Lots of thigh on display.
"Well I'm glad it bombed," she replied, raising her chin as if it was evidence that she didn't care, "I do not want to be part of any show that attacks its guests in that way."
"Are you talking about me questioning you about sex or me trying to lick the cheese off your thigh," I asked in confusion, waving the pencil I was caring back and forth.
She blushed and turned her eyes away quickly before looking back at me, "Both."
She stormed away once again and I took a moment to watch her retreating form, before shaking off whatever the feeling I was getting and continued down the hallway.
When the day finally ended and I headed back to my locker, I found Santana standing at hers, which was three down from mine, and Rachel was no where in sight. I just prayed that Rachel had the good sense not to come up to me while Santana was there.
"Hey San," I said opening my locker.
"Hey Britts," she said back, but she was quickly stuffing her books into her bag as if she was late for something, "I gotta run, my mom found condoms in my room and grounded me. If I'm not home right after school she's taking my phone."
"Condoms," I asked, seriously hoping that her and Karofsky weren't having sex, because then I would need to vomit.
She waved her hand and said, "They're from like over a year ago when Puck and I were screwing. If my mom only knew, huh?"
"Yeah," I replied, putting my books in my bag.
"See ya, Britt-Britt," Santana called, running down the hallway.
I closed my locker and turned to the other side of me and found Rachel standing there, inches away. I jumped back in surprise and said, "God, stalk much?"
Once I had calmed my startled heart, however, I instantly wanted to take the comment back when I looked Rachel over. It seemed Rachel had gotten slushied today. It was washed off her face, but there were still some strands of hair that were stuck together and her white shirt was almost entirely stained purple.
"I didn't realize that my back up clothing, for days such as this, were also slushie soiled," Rachel sighed, trying to unstick some pieces of hair. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to go home and change."
The thought of losing my ride home did not appeal to me so I replied, "You can just borrow one of my shirts when we get to my place."
"Really," she asked with a smile and a voice the sounded a little too excited.
"I guess," I sighed, it was just too easy to put a smile on her face. "I'm sure I can find something that'll fit a toddler."
The ride to my place was silent again, probably awkward too, but I didn't notice because I was too busy shooting glancing at her thighs. I watched the muscles in her leg contract as she pressed the gas pedal and it was quite mesmerizing. Her legs were so toned and long for such a small person.
When we got back to my room, I went directly to my large walk in closet to find a shirt for her to change in to. I opened a drawer and found a white camisole that was too small for me and walked back into my room.
Rachel was crouched on the ground staring at the books on my book shelf, her fingers rolling over one in particular as she pulled it from the shelf. She heard me come back into the room and she looked up at me as she held the book up, "Brittany, do you know what this is?"
I sighed a heavy sigh. I really should have Rachel proofed my room before I let her come here. Santana never paid attention to anything in my room except me and usually the only times we were in here was to have sex, otherwise we spent most of our time by my pool. "A book?"
"It's Plato's Symposium," Rachel responded as she looked over the cover again.
"No it's not," I answered, "Play-Doh comes in a little yellow jar and tastes like salt and dishwasher detergent."
She was thrown off for a moment, but then replied, "Not Play-Doh, Plato. The famous philosopher."
"I don't know what that means," I said and god it was getting harder and harder to keep up the charade all the time around Rachel. I had no problems hiding myself in the past, but the second I pay Rachel some attention it she turned into Sherlock Holmes uncovering my life.
Rachel went to open the book and I suddenly remembered what was in that book. I leaped towards her, trying to take it from her hands, but she was somehow quicker than me and she twisted away and hurdled across my bed, rolling off it to the other side. I almost stopped to marvel in the James Bond move she had just pulled and I definitely would have if my social status didn't hang in the balance.
"It's my sister's book," I tried, because it was the only excuse that came into my mind. I jumped towards her again and managed to grab the back of her shirt as she turned away from me, but it was too late because she had already opened the book.
"Brittany, you wrote your name in the book," she said, flipping past the first page with my name clearly written in the corner and began to skip to the other pages. I tried to grab it again, with my other hand still holding on to the back of her shirt as I was kneeling on my bed, but she moved her arms so swiftly that I couldn't seem to catch her.
"My sister is also named Brittany," I said and I hardly even knew what I was saying anymore because my total focus was on getting the book away.
"I thought your sister's name is Kaylee," she stated and flipped through more pages. I yanked the back of her shirt hard and she fell backwards on top of me, making me fall back onto the bed as well, but the move caught her off guard and I was able to rip the book from her hands and throw it across the room, out of her reach.
"You wrote notes in the margins. 'Atlantis at Knossos seems implausible'," she said, but her tone made it sound like a question as she panted from the exertion. I was also trying to catch my breath after chasing her around the room. She was still lying on top of me, her back on my front, her head lying back on the bed beside mine with our cheeks almost touching and she wasn't making any indication that she was going to get off me any time soon.
"I saw a documentary about it on the Discovery Channel when 'Shark Week' ended," I said, hoping that she couldn't feel my heart beating so hard I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I saw her head turn towards me out of the corner of my eye and felt her hot breath hitting my cheek. Her shoulder was resting just under my chin and all I could smell was grape slushie and if she didn't get off me soon I was going to do something that could be regrettable, "Hurry up and change your shirt, you smell like grape and it's making me want to eat you."
Her body tensed and she instantly rolled off me. I couldn't hold back the small laugh if I wanted to. She had been lying fully on top of me, our bodies touching almost entirely from head to toe and she had been completely relaxed, yet I mention I want to eat her and suddenly she was back to being stiff as a board again. Either way, it made her forget about the book, so I got up off the bed, picked up the camisole I had dropped on the floor when I went to attack her, and handed it to her.
"It should fit," I said as she took it from me, although I notice it looks quite a bit small when she held it up, "I last wore it when I was ten."
She didn't respond and I moved towards my bathroom and said, "I gotta pee," before closing the door behind me.
After I've finished and my hands are washed and clean, I knew that more than enough time had passed for her to change so I left the bathroom. I looked around the room, but could not see Rachel anywhere.
"Rachel," I called, hearing a small rustle come from my closet and I walked inside. She was standing inside, holding some clothes apart from the rack and gazing at the rows of trophies, ribbons and medals, hiding behind them.
I was so angry, because I knew that even if she did believe my Atlantis story and my driver's license story and my Pi song story and all of the other lies I had told, I couldn't explain this away. This was the proof, the undeniable proof that I was living a lie.
I wanted to yell and scream at her, but I was so afraid of what was going to happen now that I couldn't.
"Why do you always have to be so nosey, Rachel," my voice is soft, but sad and I can feel tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. I knew Rachel, everyone knew Rachel. She had the biggest mouth out of everybody. She couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it and would give up any little piece of gossip that she could if she thought it would somehow better her social status.
"I-I wasn't," Rachel stuttered, turning to face me, wearing the camisole that I gave her, which I can now see was far too small for her, "I was just looking for another shirt, because this one doesn't fit. I-I didn't mean to..."
Her voice drifted off as she turned back to the trophies, "1st Place National Spelling Bee Championship, Award for Academic Excellence, Gold Medal for the Ohio State Chess Championship... Brittany, what is all this?"
"I don't know," I whispered. I can't stop crying and I don't know what to say. I don't even know if I remember how the real Brittany Pierce talks.
"You won all of these," she asked, gently touching a ribbon.
"Yes," I answered simply.
"I don't understand," she said, turning back to face me. "I thought you were-"
"Stupid," I finished for her because I knew she didn't want to say the word. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I knew I had to tell her everything. "In elementary school, I was the biggest nerd. Bottom of the social food chain. I was far smarter than all the other kids and I got teased for it, really bad. It didn't help that when I was ten I got a sudden growth spurt and became the tall, gawky girl. The awards and competitions were nice, but what I really wanted was a friend. Just one person that I could talk to and hang out with. When my parents moved across town during the summer after junior high, it was like a blessing in disguise. I was going to be going to a new high school where none of the people knew who I was. It would be a fresh start."
"So you decided to be stupid," Rachel interrupted, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
"Not exactly," I said, "But I guess it ended up being that way. It's not like I came to school the first day and said 'Hey I think I'm going to be stupid for the next four years'. I thought maybe if I just kept my mouth shut I wouldn't say anything that would make me look like a nerd, but the first person I met was Santana and she thought my stupidity was cute. She had asked me if I knew where the bathroom was and was so lost and amazed that this beautiful girl was talking to me that I pointed to the janitor's closet and told her that was what I had been using. She laughed so hard and then I noticed that every time I said something stupid she thought it was cute. She convinced me to try out for the Cheerios and we've been best friends ever since. And I've been faking it ever since."
"But you're failing school, Brittany," Rachel said and I knew she was trying to understand, but just couldn't, "What about your future. You could've gotten into the top schools, like Harvard, now you'll be lucking if Ohio State accepts you."
"I know," I cried, it had just all gotten so out of control, "But you know Jamie McDugald?"
"The president of the chess club who carries a briefcase to school and insists on answering every question in Klingon," Rachel asked, shaking her head and I could tell she was trying to figure out where I was going with that.
"Yes her," I nodded, "I was her in elementary school, not the Klingon part, but everything else. Even you make fun of her, Rachel. I couldn't go through another four years of that. I thought you of all people would understand, do I really need to bring up 'Run Joey Run'?"
She gave me a hard look for a moment and then looked away, "I do, understand, but what pulls me through, is that we only have one more year of high school, then I will be off to Broadway where I will begin my sensational and successful career and die a Broadway legend. In a year, your popularity will be over and will be nothing but a good memory."
"I can't just suddenly come to school and be a genius," I explained, "I love my friends, I can't let them find out it was all a lie. They're never going to speak to me again."
She looked away again and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to formulate a plan. A smile played across her lips and I could practically see the light bulb turn on above her head as she said, "You can tell everyone that I'm tutoring you everyday and then let your grades get better gradually. Then people won't question it when your marks improve because you're being tutored."
"What's in it for you," I questioned, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
She looked at the ground bashfully before replying, "As you know, I have been extensively trained in ballet, tap and jazz forms of dance. However, when it comes to more modern types of dance, such as hip-hop, I am a little bit lacking. You're an amazing dancer, Brittany, I will admit that you are more skilled than I am, only in that respect, though. Since we no longer need to spend the time that I am here tutoring you, I was thinking that you would use it to teach me how to dance like you do."
That wasn't what I was expecting. It seemed too easy. "So you will keep my secret and pretend to be my tutor, while I teach you how to dance?"
"Yes," Rachel nodded.
"Deal," I answered without hesitation. The exchange was more than fair and a lot better than I imagined. If Rachel could actually keep my secret and give me an excuse for my grades to go up and all I had to do was teach her a few dance moves for an hour after school everyday, I was definitely getting the better end of the deal.
Maybe there would still be time to get into a good college. Maybe I wasn't going to follow in Terri Schuester's footsteps as assistant manager at Sheets N' Things.
"Thanks, Rachel," I smiled and gave a soft chuckle, still in disbelief that my knight in shinning armour to all the problems in my life was all of five foot two and believed the sole purpose of Glee club was to hand her solos, "I really never realized how nice of a person you can be."
I wrapped my arms around her slender shoulders and pulled her into a friendly hug. This time there was no accidental brushes of inappropriate places or any kind of sexual undertones to it, I was just so happy that everything might work out alright and I felt I needed to show her. Her body stiffened at the initial contact, but she relaxed and raised herself up on her toes to hug me closer to my level.
When I pulled away from her, I got my first real look at how my shirt fit her, since I had been distracted before. It was possible that I had been younger than ten when I last wore it. The shirt didn't even reach her navel and despite her small breasts, the material was still stretched tightly across them. The school girl skirt she was wearing today sat very low on her hips and between the low sitting skirt and short top, Rachel was showing a dangerous amount of tanned skin. I had heard about her rigorous morning exercise schedule, but the evidence was definitely in her toned abdomen.
"You should keep the shirt," I shrugged, falling back into my 'Stupid Brittany' monotone voice, "Looks good on you."
Her smile was anxious and her eyes quickly flashed away from me as she self consciously wrapped her arms around her stomach in an attempt to shield herself from view. Taking pity on her, I scanned through my closed, looking for a shirt I could give her that I wouldn't miss if she forgot to return it or got ruined by another slushie facial. I found a light pink baby doll shirt, that I hadn't worn in a couple years, near the back of my closed and pulled it off the hanger. I held it against her, eyeing the size and, satisfied, I bunched up the material and pushed it over her head, pulling it down around her body as she put her arms through the short sleeves. I spun her around with my hands on her shoulders and tied up the thin strings at the back to tighten the elastic under her breasts. When it was tied, I gave a nod at her appearance and said, "Perfect."
She looked down at it, flattening the flared bottom and smiled, "It's definitely my colour."
Her smile dropped suddenly and I glanced her over to see what the problem with the shirt could be, "What's wrong with it?"
"Oh no, nothing is wrong with the shirt, it's actually quite lovely," she assured me and her smile appeared again for only a moment before she continued, "It's just, nobody really knows the real Brittany Pierce."
Her brow knitted and her eyes looked sad and I realized just how great it could be knowing there was somebody there that I didn't have to hide from.
"That's not true," I shrugged and gave her a gentle smile, "You do."