(Quinn)
It was the last month of classes at Middle School. The students were looking forward to the High School that would start as soon as the summer vacation ended. My almost-friends would be into different schools. Not that they would be missed, but I would miss the reference to familiar faces in the dim hallways of McKinley High. The most familiar face I would have at the new school was definitely my sister Frances Claire Fabray, or Frannie. My sister would be a senior and I would be a freshman. Frannie was determined to make sure I inherited the hive reign, starting with the almost daily dance practice she made me do in order to be a cheerleader. I liked dancing, what I didn't like was training. My future looked bleak.
Meanwhile, I faced a tedious day at school. We were forced to go to the gym to attend the annual lecture on first aid. In addition to listening to paramedics talk for half an hour and showing grotesque videos, we also watched a few randomly selected colleagues from the audience come forward to try CPR. There is no one who doesn't get nervous under the gazes of hundreds, sometimes indifferent, sometimes curious, sometimes mocking. What's worse is that each of them failed miserably. The doll died in the hands of the five volunteer students.
After the lecture, we were released for lunch. I had a captive table in the cafeteria. I liked to occupy what I thought was the most discreet one in the right corner of the room. It was where I could watch everyone and at the same time remain almost invisible. Few people sat down to eat with me, and when they did, it was because they had an interest: mainly Kelly and Amy. Other times it was Sean who hung around, especially when he needed some help. Sometimes boys approached me and asked to date them or something.
It wasn't that I was so naive: I had learned over that year to charge for certain favors. Amy once lied to her mom when I wanted to go to a photo show in Fort Wayne, and Kelly paid me $30 to dump the boy she liked, who in turn was interested in me. Besides, the boys were no longer a dreadful mystery.
Two months ago, I agreed to date John Collins, who played on the football team. The girls were picking on me because everyone was dating but me. They said something must be wrong because it was unthinkable that a pretty girl like me (their opinion, not mine) would turn down so many boys and be so lonely. So I agreed to go to the movies with the first guy who asked me. It was John Collins, handsome and burly for a fourteen-year-old. He took my hand in the dark of the cinema and I allowed it. Afterwards, when we went for ice cream, he kissed me on the cheek and I allowed it. At the end of the date he gave me a kiss on the lips and I allowed it. It was my first kiss and I felt nothing special. Anyway, my family celebrated the fact that I dated the most popular guy in school, because in their eyes, it showed that there was nothing wrong with me.
On the second date, to see another movie, John no longer asked permission to take my hand, hug me, or kiss me on the lips. Instead of ice cream, he took me to the park where some older couples hang out. There, against a tree, he stuck his tongue in my mouth. It was my first kiss of that nature and I didn't like it. He put his hand on my ass and I didn't like it either. His touch was hard and rough. His body didn't fit with mine. I couldn't feel the famous butterflies in my stomach, but I could feel his erection. The following Monday he would take my hand and I wanted to pull it back. He kissed me on the lips and I made an effort to respond because that's what people expected. He put his hand on my ass and I pulled it back behind my back. Until, he touched my breasts. He was slapped in the face and my first relationship ended there: it lasted 10 days.
At least the girls stopped thinking there was something wrong with me.
The corners of the dining room were always the last spaces occupied and for that very reason I was in no hurry to arrive to have my meal: my corner was always available. I liked it there. I followed the usual routine: tray, light food, carton of milk. But my table is missing. Seeing it occupied by teachers and guests felt like someone had stolen my lucky old pillow. For a good few seconds, the ground disappeared from under my feet. I didn't know where to go. Amy and Kelly weren't in the cafeteria yet, I didn't feel like sitting with the cheerleaders, and Sean seemed to be having a good time with his colleagues. Among the students passing by, I saw Rachel Berry-Lopez. I think she was the loneliest person in school after that kid who used a wheelchair named Arthur.
At least I was a loner by choice, but I believe loneliness wasn't a choice for those two. The only friends I saw hanging out with Rachel at school were Santana and Brittany, if Santana counted since she was her sister. But here in the cafeteria, Rachel was always alone at one of the center tables.
I didn't understand how someone as talented as Rachel was couldn't attract friends and be popular. Okay, I think I know why: Rachel talked a lot in class, was self-centered and too determined for the general taste. I found myself losing patience with the speeches she gave in English classes many times. It made her boring. The fact that she was always placed in opposition to Santana, who was popular in her own way, must have contributed to Rachel's loneliness. On the other hand, that girl had genuine talent. She didn't possess classical beauty. She wasn't the blonde with the hazel eyes that people thought were perfect. She also didn't dress well and looked like she's been wearing the same style since she was eight. Compared to her sister, with Santana's graceful Latin features and olive skin, Rachel paled. Still, she was a cutie, with a charm all her own.
Maybe Rachel wouldn't mind if I took a seat at her table.
"May I sit here?" Rachel was surprised when I approached. I couldn't blame her: we hadn't exchanged more than three or four sentences in all these years. Also, I was Russell Fabray's daughter, the man who publicly attacked and cursed her parents every chance he got. Rachel looked around as if to make sure I was addressing her. "Okay… I'll sit elsewhere."
"You can sit down, the table is empty!" Rachel hastened to respond.
"They stole my place." I pointed to my corner and sat down almost at the far end opposite Rachel. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye, as if unsure of how to proceed. "Sucks this lecture in the gym!" I tried to bring up the subject to break the ice.
"First aid is important. My father is a doctor and he personally trained my sister and me to do all kinds of emergency procedures: from cardiac massage to a simple bandage. If you have a sudden problem and you are rescued by someone as prepared as I am, that will considerably increase your chances of survival and/or cure."
"I'll remember that!" I raised an eyebrow. Apparently, Rachel was a full-time diva.
"Where are you going to study next semester?" she asked casually.
"McKinley High. My older sister goes there..."
"Oh! Will she still be there when you get into William McKinley High School?" And the funniest thing is that nobody spoke the name of that school in full.
"Yes, she will be a senior."
"Don't you live in the neighborhood next to mine?"
This question was odd because Rachel knew exactly where I lived. She thinks I don't know, but I saw her throwing eggs at my house once with Santana, and I knew very well that it was them who filled the tree and the front yard of my house with toilet paper. I never said anything because my dad was literally going to war with the Berry-Lopezes and it wasn't something I wanted to see.
"Why do you ask?"
"Aren't you supposed to go to Carmel, per the municipal distribution rules?"
"Actually no. Mckinley is the school that serves my neighborhood, and my religious community sponsors some activities there. My grandfather on my mother's side is a pastor..."
"Same? What kind of activities?"
"Basically the football team and the cheerios squad." Rachel looked at me in awe. "And you're going to Carmel, right?"
"Carmel High School is not only the school that serves my neighborhood, it is also the best performing arts program in this city. Their choir, Vocal Adrenaline, is a three-time national champion winning team. I find it extremely exciting that that they practice three hours every day: an hour of vocal techniques, an hour of choreography and an hour dedicated to the number itself. This will be perfect as another step in my preparation for college and, later, for Broadway."
"Interesting!"
I turned my attention to my plate and there was silence. Carmel High was indeed the best public school in Lima: one so good that it rivaled the teaching of the best private school in the area. If you didn't live in the region served by the school by the city rules, you could still apply through a selection process. But there were people who were accepted simply because they had a special skill that interested the school, like that good athlete or the very smart student. The problem was Carmel's reputation for being the raven of Lima society's arrogance, sponsored by pro-abortion liberals and the city's small Jewish community. I think Rachel was the first person to talk about Carmel with such enthusiasm.
"What about you? Would it be inconvenient to ask what extracurricular activities you plan on doing when you join William McKinley?"
"I'm going to be a cheerleader, like my sister."
"Oh!" I was immediately embarrassed. Being a cheerio seemed so poor and futile. She looked at me funny and adorable at the same time. "I wish you luck in your endeavor, Quinn Fabray."
"Equally." I smiled, still embarrassed.
"If you'll excuse me..." Rachel got up from the table with a huge smile on her face. Something he knew was fake.
I just nodded and she turned her back with the tray in her hands. I watched her. Santana was sitting next to Brittany and two other people at another table. Then I understood why Rachel got up so suddenly: Santana called out to her. They chatted quickly and Rachel soon headed out of the cafeteria as if she'd been confronted. I felt Santana's eyes heavy on me. She glared at me menacingly, as if I'd gotten in her way by talking to her sister. She didn't trust me just because I was a Fabray. Unlike Rachel, Santana never made a point of being polite to me. We The Fabrays were the Berry-Lopezes enemies, like the House of Capulet versus the House of Montangue. I shook my head and found the whole situation hilarious. I'd laugh if it weren't for the school cafeteria at peak hours.
I returned home on the school bus still smiling at the cafeteria scenes. I could be friends with the Berry-Lopez's girls. They had a fun dynamic. Too bad it's impossible. Imagine if my dad knew? I would take a beating with the paddle and suffer a giant punishment cloistered in my room without a computer or my camera. Oh no! That would be death: a far worse one than when I was forced to diet and join the gym.
At home, I did my ritual and hurried on with my chores. I wanted to be free from the day's activities so I could rest. Frannie came home late from school. The cheerios were going to play in the national finals this weekend and she was training like crazy. Her coach, Sue Sylvester, had the squad practice routines for three hours after school. When Dad arrived, it was time for the family to gather at the dinner table.
"How are training going, Frannie?" As always he addressed her first "Will you get the champ this year?"
"Our team is a three-time national champion, Dad. The way we practice, we have no opponents. Mostly because I'm the captain."
"That's how you say it!" He was always thrilled with my sister's confidence. He loved the fact that she belonged to a winning team, and he didn't even care that she danced in front of a full bleachers: after all, she was a champion! "What about you Quinnie? How was your day at school?"
"Nothing interesting. I attended a lecture on first aid." My dad seemed so receptive. I thought maybe he was open to suggestions that went against the family's plans. "I was talking to a colleague over lunch..." I couldn't dream of mentioning Rachel Berry-Lopez's name inside that house. "She's going to Carmel next semester. She said good things about that school."
"Nonsense!" Frannie rolled her eyes. "Carmel is a liberal nouveau riche hole."
"I've heard horrible things about that school." My mother took a sip of wine. She had been drinking more and more the last few months. "They keep openly gay professors. Not to mention that the Jewish community is strong in that school".
"I heard the same things." My dad laced his fingers together and glared at me. "For that classmate of yours to want to go to a school like that, she can't be good company, Quinnie."
"I barely talk to her." I forced a confident smile to ease the awkwardness. "She sat down at the table with me and my friends and started talking about her plans. That's all."
"Don't worry, little sis. Next semester we'll be together in McKinley and I'll be able to prepare you well before I hand you my crown. Let's make the Fabray dynasty in McKinley last almost a decade!"
I forced a smile at the sister before turning my attention to my father. He had an expression of pride bestowed on Frannie. It might sound silly and childish, but I wanted to get the same treatment. But how difficult it was to compete with Frannie. She was prettier, dressed better, ruled the school, got good grades, dated the captain of the football team, was elected homecoming queen, captain of the cheerios, was in the Christian club, and knew all of Cincinnati Reds' starting lineup by heart. It was tough! That's why I decided to be nobody, at least until high school.
"Haven't seen Harry these days." Mom commented casually.
Harry Morgan was the boyfriend. More than that, he was the son of James Morgan, the owner of a construction company operating in Ohio and an active member of the church community.
"Harry has been rude to me. I'm giving him the cold shoulder." The comment elicited giggles from my parents. I wanted to roll my eyes, instead I lowered my head and tried to pay attention to my food.
"What about you Quinn? Don't have a new boyfriend lined up?" My mother's voice was demanding. Even my short-term relationship with John didn't stop her from charging me for the boys' company.
"There's no one worthwhile at the school. Better wait to get into McKinley."
After dinner, safely in my room, I played with the camera. I was in a phase of inventing strange series. The last one was "Barbie in Wonderland", made with my dolls, stuffed animals and drawings on ordinary white sheets to compose scenarios. After a few shots, I checked my watch. It was nine o'clock at night. I went to the computer to access MySpace. There was Rachel Berry-Lopez's new weekly post. I grabbed the headphones and hit play. The song of the week was "Don't Know Why" by Norah Jones. It wasn't quite the style Rachel usually posted, but it was a nice change. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep lulled by the sweet voice.
...
(Santana)
"Italy is the country of boots." Brittany said happily in class. She was correct if the teacher could interpret it another way: Italy was the country in the shape of a boot. Brittany knew how to take the map and show Italy, say what official language is, that the Vatican was in Rome and that the Romans were part of a great empire in the past. "By the way, the Italian boots are the best, not to mention the suits, as I saw on television. I just haven't been able to find out what country the slippers are from. I suspect it's Portugal. Or that island in Africa."
The laughter was general. But I would never laugh at these Brittany "add-ons". I couldn't because they weren't the fruits of a joke. If there was a country in the shape of a boot, then, in her mind, which worked by relationship, it made sense to have a country of slippers, pants, shirt, chandelier.
The kids knew that Brittany was a student with a learning disability. She was a sexy, feminine, slightly smarter version of Forrest Gump. I tried to do my part. I helped Britt read and write, tell time on a clock. I taught her how to use basic computer software, how to do at least the four basic math operations and how to solve simple equations. Brittany's parents struggled so that she could keep up with the other kids at school. They paid for a private tutor who taught all over again what was learned in school, but in a way that Brittany could understand. That was how she managed to advance through the school grades, always with the minimum average. Even so, she already stayed a year by the way. In case you're wondering, yes, Brittany was a year and a few months older than me.
Brittany and I were going to High School after next summer. If I feared I wouldn't survive that jungle called high school, Brittany would be easy prey. No matter what, I needed to help her get through school without further trauma.
Theoretically, Rachel and I would go to Carmel, as it was the school that served the kids in my neighborhood and the country club. Carmel High was a charter school, considered the best in Lima academically and pedagogically, which even charged students a semester fee. There was a good arts program there that Rachel was interested in, and also special advanced classes for people like me. Carmel would provide me with a reasonable preparation in hard science subjects, and there was an award program for students who participated in the mathematics olympics, such as scholarships and some perks. I could join this team of nerds blindfolded if I was offered certain perks.
The problem was Brittany. She lived in a neighborhood served by McKinley High. She could go to Carmel with me, but she would have to try out for out-of-district students. Or she would have to have a desirable skill for the school to invite her to enter on a scholarship. But it would be very difficult. Besides, Carmel had no place for someone with her difficulties. Lima's only option within the public system for my best friend was really that hole called McKinley High that accepted everyone. The teachers there were a bad joke, the principal was an idiot who thought more about what the cheerleaders could raise than the academic success of the students. That's why Mckinley had the largest population of cheerleaders in the United States of America. Brittany wouldn't stand a chance if she was alone in this jungle.
That's why I'd been thinking, if Brittany can't get into Carmel High, then I should go to McKinley. Because that way I could help my best friend survive this jungle and get through high school. It would be hard to convince my parents. They didn't like the idea of separating me from Rachel.
"What are you thinking, San?" Brittany shook me.
"What?"
"You cut yourself off from the world."
"Nothing. Nonsense."
She smiled. She loved it when she smiled. It was like the world lit up. Brittany was the person I loved most in this world along with my parents. We were dating and not dating at the same time. I mean, I liked kissing Brittany, but I also dated a few boys.
The school board ordered all students from my grade and previous grades down to the gym for the annual first aid lecture. It was a beautiful waste of time. Particularly as I was trained by Papi in first aid. I knew that these were apparently simple techniques in the books, but in practice it was clear that cardiac massage was not just trying to sink the subject's chest, or throw punches. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation wasn't just blowing into someone's mouth. It would not be a collective lecture that would train hundreds of students at once.
"I'm getting out of here."
"But what about the lecture?"
"It's a waste of time, Britt."
"I like it..."
"Here's what you do: you watch and then we'll meet later."
I spent part of the time in the library because there were some armchairs there and the monitor didn't bother me when I skipped classes to stay there. I grabbed a history book and pretended to study. I needed some time to come up with a plan and come up with arguments to convince my parents to let me go to McKinley. Rachel would be trouble. I could suggest separate schools, but Dad was worried about my distancing from my sister. I could say that separate schools would be good for our relationship. When I was in this conspiring state, the minutes passed quickly. It was almost lunchtime. I ran into Brittany outside the gym and she seemed happy to learn how to save people.
"I would ace this class." Brittany said proud of herself.
"Of course!"
We walked towards the cafeteria and sat at the same table where Jodi and Eric were. They were nice and treated Brittany kindly. Too bad they'd both be in Carmel next semester. They and Brittany talked nonsense and I was still lost in my plans, until the sight of Quinn Fabray sitting at the same table as my sister caught my attention. What the hell was that venomous snake pup up to? Quinn never spoke to Rachel or me. Why now? I wanted to go there to get some explanations, but that would attract attention and I didn't want to be portrayed as paranoid or jealous. Then I waved to my sister and Rachel got up.
"Rachel!" She heard me and approached. "What was she doing there?" My conversation made the others stop in their tracks.
"Quinn asked if she could sit down and I allowed her to, because the tables aren't our property. We had a nice civil conversation."
"Just that? Are you sure she's not up to something?"
"Has she ever set anything up against us?"
"No, but… she is a Fabray!"
"You are paranoid, Santana." Rachel turned her back, ignoring me. I was left without answers. I could only face that snake's daughter. Rachel could be tricked. I am not.
"What it was?" I asked the others who were staring at me with a smile on their faces.
"Nothing!" Eric held up his hands. "I think it's amazing that you claim to hate your sister, and yet you try to control her that way."
"I don't control my sister, I just take care of her... from a distance."
Rachel and I rode our bikes home that day. We used to cycle to school whenever the weather was sunny. My sister went the whole way babbling something I didn't pay the slightest attention to. When we got home, we found only Dad there, because Papi was in the hospital opening someone's stomach. Rachel and I used to do homework together in our library, but that day, while my sister was doing her homework to rush to her singing lesson, I decided to watch a TV show.
"What is it, Santana?" Dad sat next to me on the couch.
"Nothing! I'm just watching TV."
"Law and Order? Something is wrong. I have certain powers where you and your sister are concerned, you know? Spit it out."
"It's about school next semester."
"What about Carmel?"
"That's it, Daddy. I don't want to go there."
"How not?" He threatened to raise his voice. "Carmel is one of the best public schools in western Ohio. Better than many in Dayton and Cincinnati. You are lucky to go there without having to take tests or get on waiting lists."
"I know Daddy. But Carmel is a strong school for excellent students."
"Yes, like you and your sister."
"But not like Brittany…" Dad stared at me like I'd grown another head. Then he sighed audibly.
"I love Brittany, San. You know she's like my kid. But I am also fully aware that she is not my responsibility. Much less yours. Brittany has a loving family. You know it. Whitney is a very devoted mother, and Bob is also a very concerned father."
"The uncles are nice, but they aren't inside the school. They don't know how hard things are. Brittany is special and she will need help. She will need my help."
"Santana, Brittany is not incapable. She knows how to defend herself and she's very smart in her own way."
"I know she's capable of saying mean things when she needs to, she's even a little manipulative, but what about classes? Attitude won't help her understand the subjects."
"Well, you can still help Brittany study like you always has. Studying at Carmel won't stop you from staying close with your best friend." I felt that my arguments were broken in front of Dad's logic. So it was better to go into sincere despair.
"I don't want to be without her! I help her with school stuff, but I also protect her. Because Brittany could easily be bullied. But the good she does to me is much greater. Britt makes me happy, you know? Remember that time I messed up and the uncles wouldn't let Britt talk to me for almost two months? Daddy, you have witnessed how miserable I have become. I even had a fever. I'm not ready to leave her because of some stupid school. McKinley won't make me stupid. I'll still know how to add and divide well enough to, I don't know, go to community college in Lima and take a botany course just for you to be my professor."
"With the brain you have, you won't go to a community college, kid."
"Whatever. The fact is, I love Brittany and I don't want to be without her."
My father looked at me strangely, as if I had somehow surprised him.
"You love her?" He asked me cautiously. "Like your best friend or something else?"
"Sometimes as my best friend… sometimes as something more."
"Santana..." My dad looked nervous. "Did you and Brittany ever get… intimate?"
"I've never had sex with anyone, if that's what you're asking. But Brittany and I sometimes… sometimes we kiss."
"Have you ever kissed boys or other girls?" My father remained cautious.
"I've kissed two boys, but I've never kissed any girl besides Brittany. Well, assuming Rachel's pecks don't count."
"No... they don't count." My father was thoughtful and hugged me from the side. "Let's work hypothetically. If I allow you to go to McKinley High with Brittany, how will it be with your sister?"
"She's going to study at Carmel like she always wanted!"
"How will she be without her protector? I know you also protect her from bullying at school. Your way, but you protect your sister. How will it be for Rachel? Because we know that your sister has a very... quirky and difficult personality."
"Rachel knows how to deal with stuffs."
"Do you think so? In the same way that you don't want to be separated from your best friend, we don't want you to be separated from your sister."
"We are already separated. We're not Siamese, right? And we will still live under the same roof."
"You always downplay issues with Rachel, don't you? Your sister has socialization difficulties and you can't imagine how much of an important reference you are for her. It's a safe haven. Without you as a reference, she would suffer much more."
"Dad, Rachel and I..."
"You are partners and accomplices, Santana. You always were, however much Brittany was there. You may have relationship problems right now because of these teen dramas, but you will always look out for each other. Each in its own way. Don't you think you'll miss your sister at school? And who will protect Rachel in Carmel? She need's you."
"Then enroll Rachel at McKinley. She can continue to take singing lessons, compete in those amateur pageants, and stay in amateur theater. Whatnot. It's possible to make your own agenda even in a limited space. I'm sure if you say the right words, Rachel will take it all as an irresistible challenge."
"Are you really sure you wants to give up a great school to follow your best friend into something dodgy even if it means dragging your sister there? Think of your responsibility, Santana!"
"I feel it's the right thing to do, Daddy."
"I'm going to talk to Juan and then we'll have a family meeting before we drop the hammer. I am aware of your position and respect it. But we still haven't heard from Rachel. I also need to know what Juan thinks of this whole story."
"And what do you think?"
"Your attitude is noble, Santana. But unintelligent."
"Sometimes we need to make mistakes. That's what you always say."
"But my role is also to make sure you avoid many of them. We'll discuss this later, sweetie. In family."
"Promise?"
"Did I ever miss a word?"
Never. Dad was giving my plan a real chance. I never thought it would be easy, but it was possible to end this match at McKinley High.