Author's Note: I have no idea how high school is structured curriculum-wise in Ohio, so I made it up, making it more like college with the girls taking some classes the first half of the school year and taking different classes the second half of the school year. That's why they could change Rachel's classes to put her on a different track than she was originally on for the second half of the year. I'm thinking there would be four classes, a study hall, and lunch (not in that order of course). So Rachel would have her three A.P. classes with Quinn and Santana, her elective with Brittany, and then they'd all have study hall together. They also have homeroom first thing in the morning for fifteen to twenty minutes, and since that's alphabetical by last name and none of the girl's last names are close enough to be together, they all have homeroom separately. If this is confusing to anyone, sorry.
Speaking of schedules, Cheerios practice is Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and a long practice every Saturday morning. Fridays are only half-practices for home games because of the games they're cheering at and canceled completely for away games. Glee Club has meetings Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, a half-meeting to give the weekly assignment on Monday mornings before school, and a half-meeting on Wednesday morning that's usually just for people singing. This is based on nothing besides they seem to be in Glee a lot on the show.
While we're on it, today (the first day back at school) is Tuesday, January 4th, 2011. In case anyone is interested. I'm crazy obsessed with details like this and hate getting it wrong. I just wanted you to share in a little of my crazy. I actually have a class schedule for this semester for Rachel, too. These are the things that keep me up at night. Calendars and schedules for imaginary people.
Also, this chapter got really long, and I had to split it somewhere. Where I did was literally the best and worst place to do it. Sorry.
Santana opened the door for the four of them, and they slipped in almost unnoticed. Part of Quinn wanted to make it a big deal: throw open both doors, probably banging one into the wall to get everyone's attention, walk down the hallway with everyone watching them like some kind of Mean Girls moment. Part of her always wanted that. That attention, those looks of jealousy or hatred because she was so perfect and everyone else so wasn't. That way of thinking helped to serve no purpose right now, though. This was about Rachel, and Quinn knew the girl didn't want attention drawn to her. It was such a switch from how she'd been the entire time Quinn had known her. Six months ago, old Rachel would have been craving this attention, soaking up the spotlight. Now, she just wanted to blend in.
It wasn't long before the looks started coming their way. Santana and Quinn did their best, glaring at the people staring like it was their job while Brittany and Rachel walked arm in arm in front of them talking quietly. It was more subdued than the way they often stalked down the hall, Quinn in front leading the pack while Brittany and Santana trailed, pinkies linked, but subdued was what Quinn was going for. If they made it seem like Rachel being with them was normal, maybe everyone else would get on board with that and back off.
They made their way to each of their lockers as a group. As they were given out alphabetically by last name, they hit Brittany's and Santana's first. How Santana had managed to get a locker only two doors down from Brittany was beyond Quinn. They weren't even in the same homeroom with each other. She could only assume that it had taken some amazing bit of persuasion, either sexually or threateningly, to get someone to switch with Santana.
"No birds, right?" Quinn asked with a smile, moving by Brittany to look into her locker.
"No, Q," Brittany said exasperatedly. "Ever since Ms. P… I guess it's Ms. P-H, now… ever since she took Tweety away, she said I couldn't keep any more live animals in my locker. I think she thought it was messy even though I put newspaper down." She pulled out a small stuffed Tweety bird and shook it at Quinn. "Now all I have is Tweety Two."
"It's probably for the best, Britts," Quinn said, patting the taller blonde's shoulder as she hugged the stuffed cartoon character. "You wouldn't have been able to feed him over the holiday anyway."
"Well, duh," Brittany said, closing her locker. "I'd have sent him south to go live with Grams in Florida for the winter. Birds don't like the cold."
While Brittany went through her own locker, Santana deposited everything in hers save for a notebook, a pen, and her purse. Almost no one carried bookbags at school as that had somehow become uncool. Instead they merely carried around the few books they'd need for their first classes, then made trips back to their lockers in-between. After Santana's and Brittany's lockers, they went by Quinn's, running into Sam who was waiting there for her.
"Hey," Sam said, smiling and throwing an arm around her as she stood there circling through her combination. He gave her a kiss on the side of her head that caused her to forget her combination for a second as she fought everything inside her not to turn back to Rachel and apologize for his actions.
"Hey, Sam," Quinn said as she finished twirling her combination lock and opened her locker. "What's up?"
"Well, I know you've been busy with…" Sam tactlessly glanced back at Rachel who was doing her best to stare down the hall and away from them, though proximity made her unable to not listen in. "…everything, but I was hoping I could walk you to class this morning, that maybe we could catch up. I feel like I've barely seen you the last few weeks."
"Well, you did break up for a few days," Santana said, earning a glare from Quinn. With a smirk, she added, "And it's a shame we never got a chance to 'hang out' during that time, too. I could take your mind off of Frosty here."
"Gee, S, could you at least wait until I'm not around before you start trying to steal my boyfriend?" Quinn asked.
Santana just shrugged in response. "I'm just looking a chance to get up on those guppy lips, Q. Didn't say I was going to steal him… though I could. I was simply stating the fact that it's a damn shame I missed this latest window. Guess I'll have to catch the next one."
"There's not going to be a next one," Quinn said, pulling Sam down by his letterman jacket to kiss him passionately there in the middle of the hall while everyone looked on. Why did it always feel like Santana was challenging her here at school when they were generally cool with each other outside? What was it about these halls that made them act the way they did? When she released him, he looked somewhat dazed, but Quinn just gloated at Santana. "He's my boyfriend, those are my 'guppy lips', and there's not going to be a next window."
"Wow, staking your territory much, Q?" Santana asked, holding up her hands in surrender. Her face changed though after a half second, and Quinn wondered why she was looking at her like that.
Turning, Quinn realized Santana wasn't really looking at her, though. She was looking past her at Brittany and Rachel. Rachel was looking down at the floor while Brittany had an arm wrapped around her shoulders and was whispering into her ear. She looked to be on the verge of tears. She nodded her head a couple of times at whatever Brittany was saying, shook her head and said something like, "No, you're right, I know."
Quinn wanted to say something, apologize maybe, but it was silly to apologize for kissing her boyfriend, wasn't it? Especially as Santana had been the one to goad her into it. Before she could say anything, Brittany said, "We're going to the bathroom" and took Rachel's good hand, pulling her down the hall and into the bathroom.
"What was that about?" Sam asked, watching them go. "She looked like she was about to cry."
"Britts was probably telling her about the dead raccoon we saw on the way here or something," Santana said, looking over to Quinn to see if she was going to say anything about her obvious lie.
"Dead raccoon?" Quinn asked, doing her best to sound genuinely interested. And she was interested in changing the subject, at least. "Was B okay?"
"She was upset," Santana said. "Said something about scraping him up and taking him to a pet cemetery. Then she started talking about how she already has a plot picked out for Lord Tubbington. You know Britts."
"That movie freaked me out," Sam said. "Pet Sematary." Then, going into some New England accent, he said, "You're thinking thoughts best not thought of. You're thinking of putting him up there. Don't deny the thought hadn't crossed your mind." He looked at Quinn and Santana expectantly, but Quinn had nothing.
"Wow, you have just no game," Santana said. "None."
"I… I have game," Sam said somewhat doubtfully, looking to Quinn for reassurance.
Santana just shook her head, reached out, and pulled his shirt up to reveal Sam's chiseled abs. "That's all you got," Santana said. "Use that. Stop with the idiotic voices, the ridiculous made up languages… basically just don't talk."
"S, leave Sam alone," Quinn said, trying not to sound like she agreed with Santana. While Sam and Santana bickered back and forth, Quinn watched the bathroom the other two girls had gone into. After a few minutes, they came back out, Rachel smiling and laughing while Brittany held her hand and talked animatedly about something. God, she had to thank Brittany again for… well, for just being her.
"Everything okay, Britts?" Quinn asked as they got back, talking to Brittany but eying Rachel who was looking away and down the hall again.
"Oh, totally," Brittany said. "I was just telling Rachel about… um…"
"The dead raccoon," Santana said.
"Aww…" Brittany said, getting sad before she remembered she was supposed to be lying. "Right. The… the dead raccoon we saw last week-"
"This morning."
"-this morning on the way to school. It made me sad, but San was being all… what's the word?"
"Insensitive?" Rachel guessed, not looking back at them.
"Right," Brittany agreed. "Insensitive. So I thought I'd tell Rachel because I knew she'd get why I was sad. But then it made her sad, so we went to the bathroom before anyone else saw her being sad and made fun of her for it. So… yeah."
Quinn reached out and took Rachel's hand, the touch doing as much to comfort Quinn as she hoped it did for Rachel. The simple act caused the girl to turn away from where she was blankly looking down the hall and focus on Quinn. "I'm sorry that… Brittany… made you sad. I'm sure she's sorry, and she won't do it again."
"I totally am," Brittany said.
"It's okay," Rachel said, giving a forced half-smile to Quinn. "It shouldn't be something that upsets me. It's just a… story. And I've seen plenty of people telling plenty of stories here at school, so Brittany telling a story shouldn't upset me. I guess just… now that everything is out in the open, it just got to me. It's my fault."
"It's okay," Sam said, trying to be part of the conversation. As soon as Quinn was reminded that he was there, though, she let go of Rachel's hand. "Thinking of that dead raccoon all alone on the side of the road kind of makes me sad, too. I mean, what if it had family or something? Like, little orphaned raccoon babies?"
From beside them, Brittany whimpered, actually getting sad over this imaginary raccoon's untimely passing. Santana just patted her shoulder and gave her a quick side hug, pulling her in and squeezing. Glaring at Sam, she said, "Seriously. Just don't ever talk."
After Quinn's locker, the four girls and Sam made their way to Rachel's. They picked up Artie somewhere along the way, and Santana grew noticeably quieter. Sam took up pushing Artie's chair down the hall, something about them being fellow football players. That and Brittany was faithfully glued there to Rachel's side.
Thankfully there were no insults or anything spray-painted on Rachel's locker once the six of them reached it. That had been a worry of Quinn's. She'd known students to do that in the past, most noticeably last year when news of her pregnancy had come out and they'd scrawled the word 'whore' and 'slut' on there. Rachel moved some stuff from her backpack to her locker but decided to keep the backpack with her throughout the day. Uncool or not, it was easier than trying to carry her books with one good hand. That, and it had her medications in it. Quinn knew that Rachel's dads had already called the school and talked to Principal Figgins about her need to take medication. Rachel had a doctor's note ready for anyone that might need to see it.
As they were about to leave for Rachel's homeroom, as the plan was to drop her off first before going to their respective homerooms, Ms. Pillsbury-Howell and Mr. Schuester seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"Rachel. I'm so glad to see you back here at school," Ms. Pillsbury-Howell said. Mr. Schuester nodded there beside her.
"It's our first day back," Rachel said. "Why wouldn't I be here?"
"Yes, well, with everything that happened, we weren't sure you would- if you'd be able to, or even want to, come back. To school, that is," Ms. Pillsbury-Howell said in her nervous, stuttering voice.
"We're just glad to have you back," Mr. Schuester said, attempting to come to her aid..
"It's the first day back for all of us," Rachel said, seeming to cling to Brittany's arm for support. "We've all been gone the same amount of time. Shouldn't you be glad to see all of us back?"
"Yes, of course we are," Mr. Schuester said. "We're glad to have all our students back."
"We're very glad to have all of you back," Ms. Pillsbury-Howell said overly loud, looking nervously chipper while making sure to look at each of them.
There was an awkward moment of silence in which none of them knew what to say to that. It was clear Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury-Howell had no idea what to do or say around Rachel… which was disconcerting, really, considering she was supposed to be a guidance counselor at least.
After a moment, Santana said, "Okay, well, we're leaving now", and they all started walking away.
"Wait, Rachel," Ms. Pillsbury-Howell said. Rachel and Brittany, along with everyone else, turned back to look at them. "I was hoping that- if you're interested of course- that we could start meeting after, or even during, school once, or maybe twice, a week."
"No, thank you," Rachel said, not even pausing to consider it.
The two adults were both taken aback by how quickly they were said no to. "Are you sure?" Ms. Pillsbury-Howell asked. "I think it would be for the best if you were to talk to someone about everything."
"Oh, I already have a therapist for that," Rachel said. It was clear to Quinn that the brunette was trying her best to be pleasant while really just wanting out of this conversation. Seeing this version of her show smile, her fake 'having to talk to people I don't want to' smile, made Quinn realize just how much she had been using that smile for the couple of months leading up to her attempt. It made her wonder again how long Rachel had been depressed before trying to… do what she did. God, Rachel was right. Even in her own head she was being such a coward about using the words.
"Don't you think it'd be for the best to have someone at the school that you can come to?" Mr. Schuester asked, clearly trying to take up for Ms. Pillsbury-Howell. "Someone to talk to in the moment when things are… stressed. Or someone to help with the bullying that led to this in the first place?"
Rachel did the oddest thing as he said that. She smiled. She didn't just smile, she giggled, then laughed, and then continued laughing, laughing so hard tears were leaking from her eyes and she was doubled over unable to breath. It was the most Quinn had heard her laugh since that night. Maybe the most she had ever heard her laugh. She laughed so hard and so long that people started staring, and Quinn and Santana were back having to glare at people again to keep them moving.
"Did I miss something?" Brittany asked, looking around at everyone that was staring at Rachel laughing.
"If you did, then I did, too," Sam said.
Once Rachel got her laughter under control, she looked up at Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury-Howell. "Oh! Oh, God. You were serious. I'm so sorry. This is embarrassing." And she actually looked a little embarrassed while continuing to try and keep her laughter under control. "I just assumed you were joking, and I guess it just struck me as really funny."
"Um… I guess maybe the rest of us missed out on the joke?" Ms. Pillsbury-Howell offered. "How exactly was that funny?"
"The part where Mr. Schuester said you could do something about the bullying," Rachel said. "I mean, I guess I just assumed that if you could actually do something about the bullying at this school that you wouldn't have waited until one student was forced to transfer due to death threats while another tried to kill herself. So either you've seen the bullying and have been unable to do anything about it, or you've witnessed it and chosen not to do anything about it." Rachel paused, seeming to think about it. "I guess there is a third option: that you've been completely oblivious to the twice weekly slushees I've been victim of, the way Kurt was tortured daily by David Karofsky, the way other students are continually pushed into lockers or locked in porta potties and tipped over, the way the bullies here torture and intimidate their victims into silence. So either you've been incapable, uncaring, or incompetent, and, either way, I don't really want to be a part of that."
And with that, Rachel grabbed Brittany's hand again and led them off, Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury-Howell staring at the retreating group.
Once they were out of earshot, Santana said, "Jesus, Berry. That was the most badass thing I've ever seen happen to a teacher, and that involves walking in on Puck making out with Mrs. Chambers."
"Okay, first of all, ewww…" Rachel said. "Please refrain from telling me of Noah's man-whore adventures. And secondly, I wasn't being a 'badass'. I was just being honest with them."
"And I for one applaud it," Santana said, stopping them and doing the slow clap.
"Serious up," Artie said. "It's about time someone said something about the porta potty thing. That was just nasty."
"Someone actually did that to you?" Sam asked, genuinely concerned. "Who?"
"Last year," Artie said. "Same guys we're on the football team with this year. And the 'man-whore' himself."
"I thought you guys were friends?" Sam asked.
"We are now," Artie said. "A lot's happened in the last year or so."
"That is so true," Quinn said, almost wistfully.
They made their way to Rachel's homeroom. Everyone stopped outside the door, where Brittany gave Rachel a long hug, and said, "Artie and I are going. He's going to help me go find my class. Love you, R. If you need anything or if anyone's mean to you, text me and I'll go all ninja turtle on them." When they all stared at Brittany, she added, "I have super-secret moves. Don't try me." They all laughed, but no one was quite sure whether she was serious or not.
Sam stayed outside while Quinn and Santana went in with Rachel. The class was about halfway full as they still had a few minutes until the bell. Thankfully, Mike Chang was in class early as Quinn had requested he be.
"Boy Chang," Santana called out, getting Mike's (and everyone else's) attention. Quinn's patented icy glare caused all the eavesdroppers to turn away. When Mike came over to them, Santana said, "Boy Chang, Berry. Berry, Boy Chang."
"Yes, Santana, we've met," Rachel said.
"Mike," Quinn said, interrupting whatever Santana's retort was going to be. "Thanks for coming to class early. I'm sure Tina understood when you explained what I said yesterday."
"Yeah, she was cool," Mike said.
"Well I don't understand," Rachel said. "I'm perfectly capable of spending time in homeroom by myself without needing a babysitter. No offense, Mike."
"None taken."
"Rachel," Quinn said. "He's not a babysitter. He's just your friend who's going to sit beside you in class and make sure no one messes with you. He's also in the same A.P. classes we're in, so it just makes sense that you two come to class together, right? I mean, you don't have a problem with Mike, do you?"
Rachel gave a hesitant, "…no". Quinn only stared at her until she elaborated. "I don't have a problem with Michael, per se. I just don't know him. But he's never slusheed me like most of the boys on the football team, so at least there's that." Rachel looked thoughtful for a moment. "And there were the Valentines."
"Brittany told you about those?" Mike asked shyly, blushing. Quinn had never seen him blush. She didn't even know he could. And, no, that wasn't a racist thing. She'd just always thought of Mike as someone like her, very unemotional and quiet. Withdrawn to a point. Like the good version of her.
"She did," Rachel said, blushing also. "They were very sweet."
"Thanks." He paused. "Just don't tell Tina."
"I won't," Rachel promised him.
Quinn looked over at Santana who looked as equally confused as she was. She remembered Brittany saying something about some letters to Rachel at Santana's Christmas movie marathon. She'd just assumed it was a Brittany and Rachel thing. Something that had obviously been going on for a while. Now it appeared to be a Mike thing, too.
"And you're both in Glee," Quinn said, rejoining the conversation. For now at least, though she didn't say that part out loud. "So you have that in common. And, Rachel, you took dance classes, and Mike loves to dance. And I'm sure he'd like to get better at singing. Maybe you could give him some pointers. Maybe give him a chance, get to know him, and you might find you can be friends with him. It'd be nice to have another friend, right? Someone you could also get pointers from." When it was clear Rachel had no idea what she was talking about, Quinn smiled and said, "That thing I said you should get help with this morning…?"
Rachel blushed bright red and slapped Quinn on the upper arm really hard. "Quinn! I do not…" She paused, looking at a confused Mike and Santana. "…do that thing we were talking about." More seriously, she added, "You said you weren't mad about that."
"I'm not," Quinn said. "Which should be obvious by me joking about it."
"Well… okay," Rachel said. "Good. But I still don't do it."
"You so do," Quinn said, smiling and walking away. "Mike, Rachel, we'll see you in Physics in twenty."
Quinn and Santana made their way out of Rachel's homeroom and down the hall with Sam, possessive arm wrapped around her shoulder. A couple of the younger Cheerios gave her a smile or a wave as she passed them, and she returned them with a look and a slight uptick of her lips. It wasn't a full-on friendly smile as so few people were worthy of them, but it was as close as they would get. Closer than most got. And if her acknowledgement of them made them happier and more obedient, it was worth it.
They paused at Quinn's homeroom, Santana stopping her before she went in. "So what was all that with Berry back there? What could she get pointers from Mike on?"
This brought an actual smile to Quinn's lips, remembering this morning. She was truthful when she said she hadn't been mad at Rachel for staring. While it may have grossed her out that some- okay, most- of the boys stared at her in the halls and in classes, it was actually really flattering when Rachel did it. It made her feel pretty and sexy and a thousand other things that she knew she shouldn't feel. She just couldn't help it. And, besides, feeling pretty wasn't a bad thing. Compliments weren't bad things. Actions were the sin. Thoughts were just thoughts.
"Nothing," Quinn said, giving Sam a goodbye kiss on the cheek and leaving a curious Santana at the door. "Nothing."
The first day of school was going relatively smoothly for Rachel so far. People stared, sure, but it wasn't anything that hadn't happened to her before. And if she put her emotional blinders on, let the grayness take over some, then she didn't really care. Apathy was almost like a superpower. She knew it wasn't a good one, but it still helped her deal with the stares she got in the halls or in classes from both students and teachers.
There was a nice moment, though, walking between classes, shielded by Quinn on her left and Santana on her right. Rachel had mostly been looking away from everyone, just focusing on walking down the hall when a voice had stopped her.
"Rachel Berry," a voice said from close behind them. All three girls turned to find Christy Gunderson flanked by some senior non-Cheerio, Christy smiling happily at Rachel while the other girl just looked on. "You know, I was hoping to run into you." She paused, taking in Rachel's outfit. "And, okay, honestly I was hoping for those infamous short skirts I've heard so much about- thank you for that buildup, San", she nodded to the Latina on Rachel's right who just shrugged in a 'I had no say in it' kind of way, "-but, still, you look very lovely today. How's your first day back going so far?"
Between the surprise of seeing Christy, the compliment, and the Cheerio clearly checking her out, Rachel was left unsure what to say, how to feel. The flare of happiness that she felt at someone complimenting her and genuinely caring about her was such a contrast between the grayness she'd been feeling just moments before that she wasn't quite sure what to do.
"Speechless?" Christy asked. "And here I'd been told that wasn't possible." Leaning in closer, she whispered, "It's okay. I have that effect on girls sometimes."
She smiled this disarming smile that, along with what she'd just said, caused Rachel to giggle and blush. "I'm sure." A sudden thought crossed Rachel's mind as she glanced between Christy and her friend, and it made Rachel's brow crease.
"What?" Christy asked, taking in Rachel's suddenly concerned look.
"It's just…" Rachel leaned in closer to Christy. "No one knows I'm bisexual, and I… I just don't want to be made fun of any more right now. I appreciate the compliment, though, truly." Christy seemed thoughtful at this, and Rachel added, "Please don't take that the wrong way. I'm not ashamed of that, and I'm not trying to hide it, but…"
"You just don't want any more attention right now," Christy rightly guessed. "And me hitting on you is attention drawing." It wasn't a question, but Rachel still nodded, confirming her feelings. "That's understandable. A little disappointing…" Rachel's frowned, hating to disappoint yet another person, but Christy was quick to clarify. "No, the situation, not you. You're great. A little slow to text me, seeing as you haven't yet," she teased, drawing forth a smile from Rachel, "but still great." Taking a breath, Christy said, "Okay, friends then. I can do friends."
"Wanky," Santana said.
"I meant I can be friends," Christy said, rolling her eyes at the Latina. Turning back to Rachel, she assured her, saying, "Friends are good. It's a good place to start."
Quinn cleared her throat loudly beside Rachel, drawing everyone's attention. "Yes, well, Christy, you should be getting to class before you're late. You have Statistics in 211, don't you? And that's on the other side of the school."
"I do," Christy said cautiously, giving her a curious look. "How did you know that?"
"I make it my business to know all about my Cheerios," Quinn said casually.
"Okay…," Christy said, still sounding a little nervous. Gripping her books, she looked over to her friend, then back at Rachel, smiling again. "Rachel Berry, always a pleasure. San, Cap, later." And she was off, nearly running down the hall trying to make it to class in time. Or at least Rachel hoped that was why she was moving so quickly. She'd hate to think Quinn's intimidation had run her off that fast. And even if it had, Christy had still said it was a 'pleasure'. That meant something, right?
After that nice little interaction, though, Rachel, Quinn, and Santana had begun making their way in the opposite direction toward their next class. Rachel, no longer preoccupied with talking to Christy, had begun to notice the stares again and had sunk back down into the grayness just as they entered their next class.
The classes seemed like they'd be okay, though it was only the first day. Her Honors classes had been really easy as it was always read, remember, regurgitate, and Rachel had a fantastic memory. As she'd tried to tell Santana, it wasn't exactly 'photographic', but it was close. She just hoped that the Advanced Placement classes would be more difficult, more of a challenge. And, at least if they weren't, she'd be getting actual college credits for the classes. Maybe they'd help her skip a year wherever she decided to go. Rachel then took a moment to congratulate herself on thinking about her future, something she hadn't done in months. Maybe she was getting better, slowly but surely.
The first couple of classes had been okay, but being in class with Santana and Quinn had been odd. They'd sat on either side of her in both classes, again bringing the Secret Service metaphor to mind. She wished it made her feel special, but instead it just kind of made her feel even more alone, closed off from the rest of the student body. It was true that Rachel had never been allowed to have any friends because of the bullying and stigma that Rachel was a loser and no one should associate with her. Still, there were people that she said good morning or hello to that she often got a begrudged response from. Quinn and Santana's glares were removing even that level of connection from her school experience.
Lunch had been even weirder. The lunches went by grade so all the seniors had lunch first, then the juniors, the sophomores, and finally the freshmen. Usually Rachel ate with the Glee Club juniors: Mercedes, Mike, Kurt (when he had been there) Finn (when they had been dating, though now he sat with the football players), and Puck (who refused to go sit at the same table as Karofsky). Meanwhile Quinn, Brittany, and Santana ate with the Cheerio juniors.
Today, the "Unholy Square" (whose name was really starting to grow on Rachel) had sat at their own table away from both groups. Mike had made his way over since he and Rachel had talked some during homeroom and the first two A.P. classes they'd shared. It turned out he actually talked when given a chance. And he was really nice. Funny, too. She could definitely see what Tina saw in him. Mercedes came over, too, since she didn't want to be alone with Puck. She very loudly said she didn't want people to think they were a couple or anything. Then Puck had wandered over, not wanting to sit by himself. Finn was the only Glee Club junior not sitting with them, and Rachel understood why. He was still mad at her, probably mad at Puck, too. He deserved to be. Rachel just wished she could do what he did and not sit with them, either.
At their lunch table, everything felt weird. Off. In the past, Mercedes would have been one of the happiest, loudest people at the table. Today she was unusually quiet, and Rachel couldn't get a read off of her. The black girl kept stealing glances at her, but when Rachel tried to meet her eyes, she'd look away. Puck joked and talked with everyone like usual, but he barely said two words to Rachel when, in the past, she'd have to brush off some sexist, chauvinistic come-on. Quinn, Santana, and Brittany involved her in the conversations, but it was oddly one-sided when they kept having to try and do it. Mike was the only one that was his normal self, it seemed. He just kind of sat back and listened as usual. The entire experience made her wish again that she'd just skipped today.
That's why, so far, she was really loving Art class. Brittany wasn't Quinn and Santana or any of the others by far. She was happy. She made Rachel laugh and talk and be a normal teenager for once. And, sure, it was a little upsetting that Missy Gunderson's best friend Meghan was sitting on Brittany's other side in class, but she was the only other Cheerio in there. Rachel could understand if Meghan wanted a friend in class… even if she had to put up with Rachel to get one.
Meghan had texted a few times in class, but other than that she'd even been halfway decent towards her. There were no names… beyond mistakenly calling her Suzy a couple of times. Rachel had been too nice to correct her. She assumed it had to do with Santana's nickname for her the other day during Cheerios practice.
It was weird, but now that she thought about it, there had been a lot of whispering and talking about a 'Suzy' throughout the school. Rachel hadn't thought much of it, but now that Meghan had again asked, "Hey, Suzy, can you pass the yellow paint?", Rachel had to question whether it was about her or not. Surely they couldn't all think her name was Suzy, could they? Santana had only called her that until around lunchtime that one day. Something about the breadsticks from Breadstix had put the Latina in what she called a 'food-coma', and she had been unnaturally quiet the rest of the day. Since then, it had been 'Berry' or some nickname about how short she was. So Rachel felt sure that 'Suzy' couldn't have caught on that fast.
Other than that odd occurence, she and Meghan barely even acknowledged each other more than to share the water color paints the three of them were using. What kind of teacher had his Art class painting on the first day was a mystery to Rachel, but Mr. Lubach didn't seem to be the normal teacher. He was a little bit of what her Daddy would call a 'hippie', it seemed. Not in a bad way, really. More like in a Mr. Sikowitz way from Victorious… except thankfully Mr. Lubach wore shoes (it was winter in Ohio, after all) and didn't look as if he smelled.
Near the end of class, they were cleaning up their paints and brushes when Meghan accidentally knocked her water cup over onto Brittany's painting. It was unfortunate because Rachel had really liked the painting she'd been doing of a pink hippopotamus with purple spots. Brittany stared in horror while Meghan apologized profusely.
"Oh, God, Brittany," she said, sounding sincerely concerned. "I am so sorry! Here, let's just-" but her attempts to dry it with a handful of paper towels only smeared the painting more. "Oh!"
Overhead, the bell rang, and Brittany looked over at Rachel with paint all over her hands. "I'm supposed to get you to English," she said.
Rachel looked around at the emptying class. She could get to class herself. This whole 'Secret Service' thing was stupid, anyway. Brittany needed to get cleaned up and get herself to her next class which was on the other side of the building. Rachel could walk by herself. It was fine.
"It's okay, Brittany," Rachel said. "Wash up and get to class. I'll go by myself."
"No," Brittany started to argue. "Quinn said-"
"Brittany, if I wait for you, you'll be late for class, and I don't want that," Rachel said. "I'll be fine, I promise. Go wash your hands and get to class." Brittany started to argue more, but Rachel cut her off, saying, "I'm sorry about your hippo," before disappearing out the door.
As soon as Rachel started down the hallway by herself for the first time that day, she felt it. The stares were on her like a film, covering her. The whispers sounded like a buzz around her. She caught the words "Suzy" and "Unholy Trinity" and "crazy" and "suicide". She tried to let the grayness cover her, but it wasn't working. She couldn't not care. She couldn't block them all out. There were too many of them. They were all looking at her, talking about her, wondering if she was going to kill herself, wondering what had driven her to it, wondering why it hadn't worked.
Rachel was so caught up in the crowd that she didn't realize someone was at her side until they drug her out of the hall and into an empty classroom. She spun around in the darkness, looking around, but the door was already closing and blocking out what light the hallway offered. The absence of the usual overhead fluorescent lights mixed with the closed blinds and the overcast day put Rachel in nearly complete darkness. She could make out the sounds of someone else in there, but she couldn't tell who or how many. She could hear the locking of the door, though.
"Hey, Suzy. Welcome back," a voice said, and Rachel's finely tuned ears knew immediately that it was Missy Gunderson. "Though to be honest, I'm a little surprised you actually came back. I figured a crazy little freak of nature like you, Suzy, such a perfectionist and all, would want to finish what you started. You know, first time your loser parents aren't around, you grab a kitchen knife or a handful of pills or something and get back to work on ending that pathetic little life of yours."
She heard Missy from just in front of her, saw her outline blocking the light from the door. Blocking Rachel's escape from whatever she had planned. "But, no. Somehow instead, you manage to trick the three most popular girls in school into being your friends. How'd you do it, Suzy? Was it guilt? I bet it was. Make them feel all guilty for trying to show you your proper place? Because that's what it is. Your place. You belong on the bottom because you're a freak. You don't deserve them or-" She paused, clearly about to say something she didn't want to. "Or anyone else."
The words Missy used weren't that special. Quinn could have found a way to make it cut just that little bit more if she'd still been that girl from last year before the pregnancy. But they didn't need to be particularly eloquent when she was verbalizing everything in Rachel's head. All her doubts, all her worries. Because she knew that Quinn, Santana, and Brittany weren't friends with her because they actually like her. Missy had to be right. It had to be guilt. That was why they protected her. Why the stuck around her. Because if she died now, they'd think it was their fault. There'd be more guilt. They just wanted to keep her alive because they felt bad enough about her trying to kill herself in the first place. Because they felt responsible.
"So I got you a little welcome back present, Suzy," Missy said. "Or, I guess I should say a couple of things. First, I hope you like the nickname, Suzy. I heard it last Friday at practice so I asked Christy about it. She told me what you told her about Santana and the song. Christy thought it was a joke, something Santana was doing just because that's just how she always treats everyone. And it's funny because you are a joke. But know this: when I call you 'Suzy', or the rest of the school does, it's not a joke. It's a constant reminder of what you should be doing. What you should be finishing. So I think it really fits. Little Suzy Suicide. Suicidal Suzy. It has such a nice ring to it, doesn't' it?"
Rachel could feel the tears already starting to run down her cheeks. It wasn't that mind-numbing sobbing. That would come later, she was sure, when she was allowed out of here and able to be by herself. No, this was of embarrassment. The school was talking about her just like she'd feared and worried about. But it wasn't just talking or whispering or gossiping. They were mocking her. Making fun of her yet again for everything she was and everything she wasn't. She hated this place, this life. Maybe Missy was right…
The lights flared on, temporarily blinding Rachel. When she looked up, Missy was right in front of her. "I got you something else, Suzy," she said, nasty grin on her face. "160 ounces of something in particular. A little welcome back beverage, since I know you like them so much."
Missy grabbed her upper arm hard, spinning Rachel around to face four jocks, each holding one of the big forty ounce slushee cups the cafeteria offered. In that split second before the slushees came, she could feel Missy moving past her, away from the splatter this would cause. Rachel didn't even have time to shield her face before they were thrown one after another. Green apple first, hitting her in the face full blast, the icy sting physically hurting along with the force of the slushee hitting her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her closed eyes. She could only tell the flavor by the smell, so powerful it invaded her mouth through her nostrils.
She managed to duck her head somewhat in time for the second one, blueberry, judging by the smell. This one hit her more in the forehead and top of the head, running down the hair she had spent so much time straightening that morning. She wanted to look her best for today, after all.
The third jock was kind enough to at least hit her in the chest with the cherry slushee, further ruining her already permanently stained sweater. Her new favorite sweater that Santana had bought her before Christmas. It was another of the Latina's guilt presents. Rachel deserved the slushees more than she deserved the sweater, anyway, so it kind of worked out in a way.
The fourth jock walked over and poured the grape on top of Rachel's head before tossing the cup down and following his three friends out the door. Rachel felt it covering her hair, running down into her sweater, into her bra, over her chest and stomach, going into her pants. She felt covered in slushee. Bathed in it. Drowned in it. It would be poetic, in a way, if she could literally drown in the stuff. Her tormentors' weapon of choice used to take away their favorite plaything forever. If only life… or death, she supposed… were that easy.
From behind her, she felt something tugging on her stained sweater. A hand, pulling her out into the hallway. The hallway where classes were still changing. They all stopped to stare at her. There was a stunned silence for a moment before the whispering started. Then the laughter. Rachel didn't care, though. She'd tried. She really had. It was just too hard. She'd been 'normal' today… or at least as close as she was ever going to get. Not overly exuberant like she usually was. Not a brownnoser or a suck up or a know-it-all. She'd been as low-key as possible, but it hadn't been enough. It was never going to be enough. She was hated. That was her lot in life. She was there for people to hate. A target. And she couldn't do it anymore. It was fine, though. Since her first suicide attempt, she'd been subconsciously making plans for her second. Apparently it was time to do what Missy said. To finish what she'd started.
As the hallway filled with laughter, Missy moved just close enough to Rachel to whisper, "Welcome back, Suzy. And stay away from my sister, you freak." And she took off down the hall towards whatever class she had next.
Rachel wasn't going to class, though. She was done. Like deflating, she sank to the floor in the middle of the hallway, wrapping her arms around her knees and curling up as tightly as she could. The laughter would go away eventually. Everyone would go away eventually. And then she'd go away, too.