"SAGA BERRY-LOPEZ AND FABRAY" was originally written in 2010-2011 in Portuguese
VOCAL ADRENALINE'S COACH
(Quinn)
I would like to believe in psychics.
Imagine if there was such a medium to predict my misfortune. Pregnant, staying with a boyfriend I don't care about and living in his house with his mother who hates me, having trouble manipulating the real father of the baby, dealing with a crazy woman who wants to adopt her. The most painful fact of all: my own father disowned me and shut me out of home. I would love to have a good tarot reading rather than the lot I was dealt. I would have been skeptical of the reading if I'd had one, but at least I would have been able to feel more prepared. First of all, I wouldn't have slept with Puck. Ever. Unfortunately, there is no turning back.
The pregnancy left me in a difficult and almost hopeless position. I devoted all my time trying to save my skin with the weapons I could get. My fight against Rachel Berry-Lopez wasn't out of jealousy, possession and selfishness anymore. I had to do anything I could in order for Finn stayed by my side because I needed someone with a modicum of stability, and Puck wasn't reliable. Rachel still wanted Finn, everybody knew it, but I couldn't allow that to happen because I would be helpless and totally alone.
Of course, I was unable to maintain and internalize this catastrophic situation for long. The final blow was ironically struck by Rachel. I fell in her trap when she said Jew babies could be born with a certain genetic abnormality. I panicked because, after all, I loved my baby and wanted her to born healthy. I was a fool.
Among tears and despair, curious things started to happen. I, Quinn Fabray, former captain of the Cheerios and former popular girl, a\the lowest of the low. I was reduced to nothing. So I stayed calm to face reality: I was just a Jane Doe, pregnant at 16, and Rachel loved someone else. Oh, and I suppose Finn was too.
After the Puck and Finn fight, when my lies were discovered, I left the choir room in tears. I went to the bathroom, washed my face and tried to breathe deeply. Half an hour later, I sat on a bench. Rachel met me there. She was wearing a long sleeve blue blouse – coincidentally my dress color – willing to give me a chance to slap her. The irony of the situation: I was the one who should be slapped in the face. Rachel ruined everything. But I had blown it first.
"Could you go now? I want to be alone," I said to her.
Rachel complied and stood up. If she could understand the meaning of that scene, would have celebrated the drama later. By asking to be alone, I was "liberating" her. That little Diva deserved to be happy even if she loved an idiot like Finn Hudson, and promised myself never to be in her way. If I really liked her, I should let her stay with Finn.
(Santana)
Drama, drama, drama and a little bit of more drama. Seems like it was all that happened during the semester. Drama with Mr. Schuester and Coach Sylvester fight. Drama with Quinn's pregnancy, whose father was my bed partner. Drama with the love quadrangle formed by Finn "Fetus Face" Hudson, my sister, Quinn, and Puck. Drama with the Cheerios' new captain. Drama at home because of Zaide's call. My grandfather usually says my potential is wasted in Ohio even though my fathers don't feel the need to pull me out of McKinley. They understand Zaide's concerns about my future but haven't acted on those concerns just yet. But this time he spoke about New York with my Daddy. More specifically: Stuyvesant High School.
As I understand it, Zaide's friend, a former student of Stuyvesant, said he could use his influence allow me to take the school's entrance exam whenever I saw fit and potentially transfer out of this hell hole. This friend is a well know businessman from New York who owns a company that invests in pharmaceuticals and natural gas. I saw him once, I think, on Bubbee's anniversary party. Anyway, daddy and zaide disagree on almost everything about everything. But there is consensus about my education. Daddy was born in New York and he loves his hometown. No wonder he is one of the biggest supporters of Rachel's Broadway dream. I guess he never thought the same about me, but always defended the idea I deserve better schools than Lima can offer. Daddy thought Zaide's idea is great. Papa disagrees. He hates the idea about send me alone to study in other city or state. Papa thinks Rachel and I only should leave home after high school for college. I hate to cause this fight as all I want is stay with my Britt Britt and help her through Mckinley High years.
My relationship with Brittany was the only non-dramatic situation throughout the semester. We agreed some time ago to be on an open-but-secret relationship. I can have sex with Puck (and I really like his dick), and she can have sex with whoever else wants. I think she should be more selective and it's hard to hold back my jealousy sometimes. Brittany has been with more people than I can count on my fingers. Well, she likes fucking and experimenting with different people. I don't. I only had sex with three people: Puck, Brittany, and the football player asshole I lost my V-card to my freshman year. It's less than people assume I've slept with, but I don't like to talk about it in general.
I know it's not the ideal scenario for romance, but it's what I've got. My moto, "Sex is not dating," is much better than the soap opera level of drama created by the love quadrangle created in Glee Club. All this unnecessary drama almost ruined the hard work we've done on the Glee Club for Sectionals. So we went to the competition without one of our lead singers and our setlist was sold to other teams. Of course, the rest of the team accused me because I was sort of Coach Sylvester's mole. As much as I wanted to be the Cheerios' captain, I wouldn't mess with something I loved to do - which was singing.
I hated Quinn when she forced me to join the group. Of course I do love sing and dance and have fun in glee club. I've always liked to sing in the shower, but performing on stage is another thing. It's Rachel's thing, not mine. That's why I was so surprised when I found myself really enjoying glee club and working with some of those losers.
As the stage lit up for our Sectionals performance, Finn - the "hero" of glee club - sung "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by The Rolling Stones. It was a fine performance, but nothing worth writing home about. It certainly wouldn't work in helping us defeating the other glee clubs.
That, unfortunately, was left for Rachel. When she threw together a song at the last minute, I knew exactly what she'd be doing. I smiled when I heard "Don't Rain on My Parade" from Funny Girl - Rachel's favorite movie. My sister used to sing this song whenever she was happy. Rachel Berry-Lopez was brilliant, a true star.
I believed we would win anyway, even if we did our old numbers, like "Somebody To Love" or the emotional (which I liked a lot) "Keep Holding On." But the touch of brilliance from Rachel made history. Well, small and very local history. Of course I wouldn't say it to her. Not so with much enthusiasm.
When our victory was announced, we hugged each other and celebrated it a lot onstage.
"Well, you did right for once," I said to my sister.
"Mission accomplished!" Rachel cracked a huge smile and then look for Finn at stage. Not that he was hard to find it.
My dads were in the audience. They always try to attend everything they could with regard to extracurriculars. I was the first to reach them after the celebration with my team mates. I hugged them both.
"Congratulations, sweetie," Daddy gave me a kiss on the forehead. "You were divine. What a great Hanukkah gift."
"And we thought there was only a singer in the family," Papa said, hugging me as well.
"You may be surprised," I teased.
Rachel walked in hand-in-hand with Finn. They could finally be together. I wasn't sure how I felt about my sister having won "the man of her dreams," especially someone who I don't get along with - much less a Bigfoot. Rachel deserved better. I found Brittany in the crowd at the lobby. She was with Mike and Matt. The mood was jovial, much happier than when we won the cheerleading national championship last year.
We decided to celebrate with a few root beers and I was chosen to face the crowd next to the bar to buy some. I tried to edge my way into the bartender's line of sight, but got nothing in return.
"What the hell!" I grumbled loudly. "I just want some root beers."
"Root beer?" a female voice asked. I looked to my side and noticed the pretty brunette woman who was taking dry martini.
"Yeah," I replied with irritation. "I want just the damn root beer they sell on this fucking bar."
"Why don't you go somewhere else to have it?" the woman asked as she sipped the drink.
"Because I want a fucking root beer now. My team just won this damn competition and if I can't celebrate with a proper beer right now, at least give me a damn root beer. This is too much to ask?"
"You say 'damn' and 'fuck' too much young lady," the woman said. She was reprehensible. "And aren't you too young to talk about drinking beer?"
"I just want my drinks to celebrate with my friends over there, okay?"
"Hey! Tom!" the woman called to the bartender, who promptly answered. "May I have..." she looked at me and I pointed out four fingers, "four root beers?"
"Yes ma'am!" The bartender looked at me frowning. Just do the job, loser. And I won't give your tip.
"Thank you!" I finally got a good look at the woman and I had the impression she was very much alike someone I know.
"What's your name, girl?" The woman seemed to want a small talk.
"Santana."
"Santana Berry-Lopez?"
"How do you know?"
"Your name is written in the program as a member of New Directions, William McKinley High."
"Oh! And you noticed that? In names of people you've never seen?" It wasn't normal. I stared at the woman suspiciously. "Look, lady, I should warning you: I am not into that, okay?"
"What?" she was confused.
"I don't know why you kept my name on a flyer, but I am just saying I don't go around flirting with older people. You are really pretty, but I'm not like that. Maybe I will do some of radon flirting on college..."
I thought she would feel embarrassed, but the effect was an open and loud laugh.
"I am sorry, but I wasn't insinuating anything...questionable," she raised her hands and in the meantime, the bartender handed the bottles and I left the money on the counter. "But I did want to get to know you because they say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."
"Enemies?"
"I'm Vocal Adrenaline's coach and our teams will face each other at Regionals. I came here know and learn about the winner, in this case, the New Directions. This includes identifying the major players."
"Oh." That was a good explanation. Rachel was obsessed with Vocal Adrenaline and sometimes she arrived with intel on numbers, leading vocals, and coaches. Not that I paid attention, but that's something Mr. Shue doesn't do because we should give each performance our hearts and souls, bla, bla, bla, despite the other teams.
"By the way, your choir did a good job. Congratulations."
"Thank you!"
"The soloist was formidable ... Rachel Berry-Lopez is her name, right?"
"Yes."
"I suppose you are relatives."
"She's my sister," I was uncertain to continue the conversation. I felt like I was giving too much information to the enemy. Not that it was a secret, anyway. "Thanks for your help..."
"Shelby Corcoran."
"Okay, Mrs. Corcoran, see you at Regionals."
…
NEW YEAR DAY
(Rachel)
"Ray?"
Santana came into my room with two bottles of beer. I was tidying up my wardrobe to discard clothes I no longer wear. It was a habit based on a superstition. Abuela always said it was necessary to dispose of the old stuff for the New Year to enter properly, and the best time to do so was December. Also in December, Aunt Maria always organized a grand bazaar where people could sell their old clothes and other household items; which traditionally happened in the church on January. Many poorer families attend it. The items were usually in good condition and the poorer families that came in felt good about buying the quality products at a reduced cost. Though they weren't necessarily new items, it made those people feel better about themselves and empowered them to buy what they could with what they had. And the proceeds went to benefit a community day care center in Lima Heights Adjacent that was previously run by my grandmother, who has since retired and handed over the responsibility to my aunt.
I always believed you need to be charitable - independent of religion, class, color, social position and gender. It's a pleasure and an easy way to do it - just donating clothes and things that are no longer wanted. Santana also makes her own contribution, but she's not disciplined and ritualistic like me. For my sister, it didn't matter if she binged her clothing stock in May or December.
"You won't be donating this year?" I was sitting on the floor with a pile clothes.
"I'm too lazy!" she said. I rolled my eyes. Typical. "I came to make a toast to you," she stretched the beer for me. I didn't understand. Santana knows I don't drink. Unless it's a shot of tequila with water, salt, and lemon that Abuela makes me to drink when I have flu. "For passing on the driving test. Now we are officially can have our car."
"So you're drinking beer to celebrate?"
"So what?"
"Santy, it is illegal to drink until 21."
"Negative. It's illegal to buy drinks and publicly get drunk until 21. We're not in public!"
"Amazing how you distort the law."
"I just want to make a toast and have a good time with my sister. Can't I?"
"And the best way to have a good time with me is by drinking a beer?"
"One won't get you drunk!"
Maybe she was right. It was just one. Even if my parents even put beer under the key protection in the cellar, even I knew one beer wouldn't get me drunk.
"Okay!"
"Okay?"
"Just one, right?"
"I only have these two bottles, Ray. I swear!"
"Dads know?"
"Of course they don't. Julio brought them and gave me these two. It's a special edition from Uncle Pedro's factory."
Julio is our oldest cousin. He's 22 and it's in Lima for the holidays. He quit college and started a business building motorcycles in Toledo. I love him but, of course, he prefers spending time with Santana. Uncle Pedro is married to Aunt Maria, my Papa's older sister. He sells wines and owns a small brewery in Lima. More than once, I've heard my dads saying uncle Pedro makes the best beer of the Midwest.
I picked up a bottle and opened it. I sniffed the liquid and didn't find it particularly attractive. I sipped a little. There was a bite to it, but it wasn't all bad. I could see why people would like it.
"So?" Santana waited expectantly.
"Not so bad." I smiled. "Anything else you want to toast to?"
"I don't know ... to the coming year?"
"What about our partners?"
"Toasting to Finn Hudson? Absolutely not!"
"But don't you want me happy? And I would toast to Puck and Brittany."
"Ray, Brittany and I ..."
"Santy, I wasn't born yesterday and Brittany has been coming to our house since we were seven. Also, I've seen you two together in the pool a few times."
"You have a point. So let's toast our driving licenses, the new year, and our partners."
"In your case ..."
"Don't even start, shorty" It's so nice when she's in good mood. She laughs and is more relaxed. I love to see my sister like that, without that damn Cheerio uniform and no worries about popularity. "We also need to toast this crazy year we've just survived."
"Yeah, I survived the slushies, Quinn Fabray, that safe sex conversation with Daddy because of you." Funny short story: Daddy and Papa found out that Santana lost her virginity. Papa wanted to kill her and daddy made a compelling powerpoint about safe sex for both of us.
"I survived appendicitis, Frannie and Quinn Fabray, Sue Sylvester..."
"I don't understand…"
"Don't understand what, Ray?"
"It's clear you don't like to be a Cheerio. You confessed at Sectionals that glee club is the best part of your day. So why don't you do the exchange?"
"I'd lose my popularity and you know how much it guarantees a certain protection in that school."
"Got it..."
"Britt loves being Cheerio," Santana blurted. "She loves dancing and Cheerios performances are always very physical and and allow for her inner artistry to come out. Being a Cheerio fits her like a glove." She sipped the beer and laughed dryly.
"Will you be captain, now that Quinn is definitely out because of her pregnancy?"
"Yes. But Coach said she'll announce it after the break."
"And what happens if you become head Cheerio?"
"I'll be untouchable, even being part of glee."
"And I will still be a slushie target..."
"Sorry, Ray. Although you are no longer the preferred target."
"No. Kurt is."
"So let's toast to that?"
"My beer is almost gone."
"Oh you liked it!"
"It's good having a civilized conversation with you. These moments were so rare this year. Why, Santy?"
"I think it's a part of growing up. Dunno..." she shrugged.
"Will we move away from the point of practically acting like strangers toward each other?"
"Nonsense! Despite everything, you're my little sister - 29 minutes younger means you're the little one," she joked.
"But it happens all the time. Don't you see those stories of brothers who live far away and go years without seeing each other?"
"It's not going to happen to us."
"Even if you hate me?"
"I don't hate you. Only sometimes." Santana shook the bottle. There wasn't much left of her beer. She stretched one leg, which had originally been crossed, "instead of making a toast, let's make a pact: whatever happens after we go to college: you to New York and me wherever the wind goes, we won't distance ourselves. We will find a way to have a beer together. What do you think?"
"Beer pact?"
"If you want to call it that..."
"Sounds good!" I stretched out my almost empty can.
We clinked the bottles and drank our last sips of beer. The pact was done.
...
Author notes:
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR!
This fic will come back in two weeks because the holidays.
Music of the chapter: "Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight)" – Ramones.