(Quinn)
Contrary to public opinion, Rachel wasn't a bad person, dazzled or a completely selfish diva. She was unfocused. I believed that Rachel's actions were the result of being a very lonely person. The semester at McKinley had barely begun and she was pacing the halls like a silly cockroach. She circulated between one club and another. Worst of all, they were all just loser meetings. In class, she tried to look like the most capable student in the class, but early tests showed her to be a B-grader with occasional A grades. I don't know what she was trying to prove by doing so many things at once, as if she didn't have enough activities already. Her tacky and old-fashioned clothes fell on the radar of all the girls, not just the popular ones, who couldn't get enough of making mean comments. Even I didn't shy away from making jokes, because, to be honest, Rachel made such an impossible task to ignore her.
Another day, Rachel put on a necklace of fake pearls, the big ones that go around twice, along with huge earrings, a plaid skirt, shoes with ankle socks, and an owl sweater. Nothing against the owl sweater, which could be cute if she wore at least regular jeans. Even I, who had never been a fashionista, and Frannie called me a country-girl style, couldn't help but make a nasty comment.
"My God, it looks like a circus attraction at the zoo!" I vented unintentionally to Frannie and her friends, who laughed out loud. I swear to God the comment came from my bewilderment.
I don't know what problem Santana has with Rachel for not saying a word about it. Okay, Santana was now a cheerio, just like me, and theoretically she would no longer be allowed to have social interactions with losers, as our informal and oral laws said. But weren't they sisters? I know they arrived and left school together every single day, but in the time between one thing and another, they didn't even speak with each other. I imagine that the relationship between them inside their house must be worse than any other that I knew.
Look, my family is no better. I'm talking about a sister who treats me like a vassal, a mother who's been drinking a lot, a father whose motto was "do what I say, and if you don't do it, I'll introduce you to the educator." The educator was a leather-wrapped plank that burned to the soul when it came in contact with the skin.
Sometimes I thought Rachel was supposed to be a cheerio. Coach Sylvester made us wear uniforms that she called every day uniform for the sake of territory and status. We had a special uniform for championships and important performances, day-to-day uniform and training clothes. For me it was a good way to save my clothes, which in the end represented savings. It was a bit like wearing a private school uniform, but within a public school environment. In Rachel's case, wearing a uniform would be the solution to her lapse in fashion sense. On the other hand, it had to be realistic: she would never make the squad. In addition to not having the profile or interest, Frannie would try to veto her, as she almost managed to do in Santana's case. It's just that Lopez number 1 did one of the best auditions among newcomers.
Despite everything, I admired Rachel. She was just a 14-year-old girl, still clumsy, but full of plans and certainties. How many people in that school could say the same? I couldn't do the simple exercise of imagining myself next month or making plans for six months from now. I believe Rachel's determination intimidated people, and that was one more element of treating her like she was a freak. And so was the height. Rachel was the perfect embodiment of the short skinny girl that no one took seriously. Santana wasn't much taller than her sister, although she was just as skinny. But no one bothered her: Santana had a serious tendency towards juvenile delinquency. My house, my dad's car and my tree knows that.
It was impressive how the red and white uniform acted as a protective shield at that school. Brittany was a good example. She was a peculiar person with a learning disability, and attended an elective tutoring class known as the "retarded class", as the cheerios and many of the athletes, especially the football players, called it. But nobody bullied Brittany: one reason was to avoid Santana's wrath, and the other because she was the most talented cheerio of the squad. What I'm saying is, if she wasn't cheerio, even Santana's wrath wouldn't save her.
Brittany made me think that this intelligence thing was very relative. For example: I was a good student, with an A grades, but I didn't particularly excel at anything. Brittany struggled with a lot of things, except body control: she picked up choreography in a flash, danced with unparalleled naturalness, and still had the patience to teach everything better than Frannie would ever teach other girls. If that's not a kind of intelligence, then I don't know what is.
"I still don't understand how Coach allowed that stupid girl to be part of our squad." Frannie was sitting on the bed while I helped her paint her nails. This was one of the few activities we used to naturally do together, like sisters. The other was cooking pasta. Frannie didn't like Brittany because she didn't give a shit about my sister.
"Brittany is a great dancer! It would be a waste if she were left out."
Frannie gave me a weird look, like she always did when I disagreed with her. Then she nodded with some disdain.
"You always look at things from all angles, isn't that right Lucy Quinn? That's a good cheerio captain trait. I'm sure you'll replace me very well." She said it like it was the greatest of compliments.
"It's not just Brittany. There are a lot of interesting people at school. Rachel Berry-Lopez, for example..."
"Stop right there, young lady!" Frannie raised her voice, which startled me. "There are people who are worth it, people who can be put to good use, and people who should be ignored. I even consider Santana to be someone who can be put to good use, but her sister is an alien! It should be a case for school pest control."
Rachel had never been a topic between us and, honestly, I didn't expect this reaction. Frannie was a pragmatic person in her goals, but she didn't realize that Dad's prejudices were so ingrained inside her persona. She stood there staring at me, silently asking for an explanation.
"I...I...Rachel...well...I-think-she's-sort of nice!" I said in one breath.
"Are you kidding?" Fannie even stopped doing her nails.
"Am I?"
"Sis..." Frannie placed her nail polish on top of the nightstand and turned her attention exclusively to me. "When I say the Berry-Lopezes aren't worth it, I don't mean what Dad says about those gays. It's not my problem. They're not worth it because they don't shine. Santana is so desperate to protect Brittany Gump, which if I told her to eat shit to stay on the team, I'm pretty sure she would. So people like that are great to use. But that other midget? She's no good for anything. She's just a bug to be avoided and, if possible, crushed."
"How can you think like that, Frannie? That sounds too cruel even for me!"
"It's just that you're still getting used to that jungle, sis. High school is about the law of the fittest. We are the hunters, Rachel is the prey."
"What if one day prey conquers the top of the food chain?"
"That's why we must act to put these people in their place. Any hesitation and that's it: rebellion and chaos. If the losers come to power, they have the potential to be more bloodthirsty than we are. They're like communists, you know? Who want to take power for the people, but after they take power, they enslave the people themselves in an even more cruel way."
"What an exaggeration!"
"Tell that to the Cubans. Better… tell that to the Poles. Watch and learn, little sister."
...
Frannie and I arrived at school at six in the morning because of cheerio's physical condition practice. Sylvester wanted the physical part to be improved and we only had time during the early morning. It was torture. The girls arrived looking sleepy. Brittany was wearing the cotton fitness shirt inside out and Amy couldn't stop yawning. The run was still lazy, but everyone woke up in earnest when the coach arrived with the megaphone ordering us to do barbells and sit-ups with weights around our ankles. Six months of this and I would have a six pack.
Going to the shower after such a marathon was a relief. I put on my clean uniform and felt weirdly good. I started to walk at the halls and wasn't even paying attention to the growing movement of students. I waved automatically as Finn Hudson walked past me and greeted me. He was with Puck and their Asian friend. Finn Hudson was a guy just accepted onto the football team. He was handsome and some girls sighed over him. Puck was a sophomore who fucked any girl, but he supposedly had a preference for seniors and older women. He always smiled and winked at my sister, while she always rolled her eyes.
"Did you know he's into you?" Amy whispered in my ear.
"Who?" I asked.
"Hudson!"
"I am not interested."
"What a surprise!" Amy rolled her eyes. "You're never interested in anyone."
Meanwhile, Frannie approached with a devilish smile on her face. She approached me and handed me a pint glass of slushie.
"Ready to do whatever it takes to stay at the top of the food chain?" She said.
"What?"
"That's for you." She handed me the slushie.
"I don't want all this sugar right now, thank you."
Frannie placed her palm against the locker to get me to pay attention.
"Do whatever it takes, Quinnie. Your target is right there." She pointed at Rachel, who was absently organizing something in her closet.
"Frances..." I was startled and afraid.
"Do you want to rule this school or not?" I nodded, still uncertain. "Then start by eliminating your own weaknesses!"
"I could get in trouble if I throw that at her."
"I guarantee you won't. Figgins won't want to miss out on donating to this school. Do it, Quinnie. It's high time you unleashed your Fabray side and became a legend."
I took a deep breath and picked up the slushie cup. I didn't want to, but I was a Fabray and we did whatever it took. For what, I wasn't sure. I straightened my back and lifted my nose. I put a hand on my waist and began to walk through the corridors with the eyes of a hawk in search of prey. It was strange to attract everyone's attention just by the way I walked, but the feeling that power caused could be quite intoxicating and addictive. Some were in awe, others intimidated. Not bad...
My prey was kneeling on top of a pillow (seriously) to access her locker, and was completely unaware of what was going on. That's when I intentionally bumped into her, spilling some slushie onto the floor.
"Oh damn!" I raged. "Why do you have to stand by the wayside and get in the way of others?"
Rachel looked at me strangely. Until then, I had never spoken to her like that.
"Maybe if you watched where you were going." She answered confidently.
"What?"
"Just be more careful, okay?"
"Are you suggesting that I should walk around looking down on the floor, like you?"
"I am not..."
That's when I threw almost half a liter of sugar, ice and syrup in her face. The impact was brutal. Rachel froze, her mouth open, as if she didn't understand. In fact, the world stopped around me. I could see the other students in slow motion, I think I heard Santana's voice farther down the hall. I was sure of nothing. Only I was almost panicking myself. I needed to get out of there.
"This is so you don't get in my way, RuPaul."
I turned my back and walked quickly, leaving a bunch of puzzled faces behind. I wouldn't have the courage to turn around and check the damage. I threw the cup in the trash and walked into an empty classroom so I could breathe. I almost panicked. What I had just done was grotesque and gratuitous. Rachel has never done anything mean to me. She always tried to be kind and thoughtful despite our parents' history of fighting. I wanted to cry with so much embarrassment.
I needed to splash water on my face, but I couldn't run to the bathroom, because the closest one would be occupied by her and I couldn't bear to face her so soon. Not with my mask out of place. The solution was to take a deep breath and shake my hands vigorously to relax.
"I won't panic. I won't panic!" I spoke out loud to myself.
I controlled some of my emotions and left the room. I was still under the gaze of other students. Some were afraid... afraid of me. So, is this power?
"RuPaul?" Frannie surprised me the next time with a smile on her face. The other cheerios smiled at me.
"You know... there's that VH1 show and her parents..."
"That was great, little sister. Let's celebrate!"
...
(Santana)
Predictably, I knew I was going to hate being a cheerio. But as I also predicted, the uniform protected me and Brittany. Being under Sue Sylvester's care was like belonging to an elite force inside a barracks of idiots. Ordinary students didn't have the heart to mess with us such was the ingrained McKinley's culture of letter coat supremacy. I loved the feeling. The downside was waking up at five-thirty in the morning and being in that hole at six sharp to do sit-ups. It was the kind of situation that could turn me homicidal.
"I'm feeling weird, San. I think it's the natural medicine my mother is giving me." Brittany had her training shirt on inside out. Only her to make me smile at that time.
"Or maybe it's because you haven't woken up yet."
"Could be? This doesn't seem like a dream to me."
"You're right. It's too painful to be one."
I don't know how I managed all the exercises. The zombie state of mine helped. At least the first period was Calculus, a sign that I could sleep the whole class and the teacher would still thank me. Like a zombie, I walked the halls without paying attention to other people. Brittany stopped to chat with a girl with Down syndrome and I walked on.
It was when I saw the scene that made me wake up. Saw that bitch Fabray Jr. throwing a liquid in my sister's face. I spent that first month of school doing a pretty good job of ignoring Rachel. So much so that most people didn't even know we were related, let alone sisters. It helped a lot that we were different physically. However, as much as I had an agenda at that school, Rachel was my sister, she was my blood, I shared the womb with her for months. I was shocked when I saw the scene.
"You slut..." I yelled from down the hall, ready to run after Quinn and give her a few smacks.
Suddenly, I felt two pairs of arms pushing me against the lockers. I was so blind with rage that I didn't even notice that they were two of Frannie Fabray's henchmen. They pushed me into the nearest bathroom and I fell on my ass, but I got up quickly, waiting for the fight. I could even get hit, but it would also do a good amount of damage to their faces.
"You better stay calm right there, Lopez!" Frannie said in an authoritative tone. "If you lay a finger on my sister, say goodbye to the cheerios and prepare for the hell I'm going to make of your life and that stupid little girlfriend of yours. What I'm going to do to your girlfriend is twice as bad as what my sister did to your sister now. Understood?"
"Screw you, Fabray. I'll talk to Figgins and Sylvester."
"Really? My church sponsors the cheer squad and my dad gives a very nice donation to this school every year. Who do you think will get hurt? Me or you? Besides, you'd still be branded as a snitch. And everybody knows what happens to people like that."
For a moment, I swear I thought about hitting the famous fuck-you button and digging my nails into her face, just for a taste of revenge. The problem is, I knew Frannie was a tyrant who carried out threats. If I wanted to protect my sister, Brittany would suffer the consequences. What a shitty position Frannie put me in.
"Okay..." I said softly.
"I didn't listen you." She said mockingly.
"Okay, Frannie, I swear I won't lay a finger on your precious little sister and I'll be a good girl."
She just smiled and walked out of the bathroom along with the other girls. I wanted to kick the bathroom trash can. I wanted to kick anything that wouldn't break my foot. Instead, I splashed water on my face. On the way out of the bathroom, I saw Rachel approaching to wash up. What is impressive is that even though she was attacked, she was still completely alone, with no one to give her any moral support. There I was, ashamed for having put my tail between my legs... That's why I turned to the other side just so I wouldn't cross paths with her.
I spent the rest of the day ashamed of myself. It was horrible to be uncomfortable in my own skin. I decided to skip the afternoon practice. I would puke if I stayed close to Frannie, obeyed her commands and still smiled. I said goodbye to Brittany. I asked her to let the coach and captain know that I wasn't feeling well. I found my sister in the place where she always waited for Dad after school, when she asked him to pick us up because it was raining or too cold. Without saying a word, I stayed beside her. She didn't speak to me either.
"What happened to your outfit? It's all stained." Dad asked as soon as we got in the car.
"I spilled juice in an accident."
I was surprised that Rachel didn't tell the truth. If she had, I'm sure Dad would have gotten out of the car right away, he would have gone straight to the principal's office and asked for an explanation. I could even imagine Papi and Mr. Fabray being called upon at school. My life would become hell afterwards, but I would never say to my sister not to defend herself. I was even curious to know why she didn't.
When we got home, I went straight up to my room and the first thing I did was take that damn uniform off.
Then I heard knocking on the door.
"Santana?" It was Rachel. It was taking too long...
"What do you want?"
"Can I stay there for a while?"
"You know better! My room is allergic to you."
"Santy!" My sister's voice was more emotional, full of appeal.
I opened the door and had to put on my tough mask so I wouldn't cry or kick something. Rachel was downcast and had tears in her eyes. It was obvious that this humiliation would affect her far more than she could have imagined. I started to feel like the most selfish of human beings because I thought I was bad. I turned my back on her and went back to lying on my bed. So I knocked twice on the mattress for her to lie down next to me.
"Close the door!" I ordered and Rachel complied before joining me.
We lay there in silence, lying side by side staring at the ceiling. Rachel needed some time to take it all in and so did I. Until she turned on her side, with her face turned away from me, and it was my cue to settle back, putting my arm around her waist, being the big spoon. It was comfortable to lie cuddling with my sister. It was like a human pillow: no room for any kind of contradictory feelings, desires and complications.
"Do you think Quinn will do that again?" Rachel spoke after a few more minutes of silence.
"I think so!"
"And you're not going to help me?"
"No, because Frannie threatened me if I hit Quinn."
"I don't want you to hit Quinn, Santy. I do not condone violence."
"Well, I can't protect you, Ray, whether you used my fists or not. But you can still protect yourself. Why didn't you report Fabray to Figgins? Why didn't you tell Dad the truth?"
"I don't want to look like a poor little crybaby. It was going to make my life at that school worse." Rachel turned to face me. "Why do things have to be this way?"
"It's the rules of the game. Ray, listen to me: Mckinley is going to be hell for both of us. But you have an advantage: you know you're going to get out of this hole in town and you're going to triumph in New York. I know that because you're the star of this damn family. You're the most talented person in that school. The kids get angry at your determination. They feel inferior, intimidated. That's why they'll attack you and You're going to get insulted like Quinn Fabray did today. But you're going to hold your head up and you're going to get over it. You're a Berry-Lopez and you're tough."
"How can you be like that?"
"Like what?"
"Being so bad and so nice at the same time?"
"I don't know... You piss me off, but you're still my little sister."
"You and your 29 minutes apart." Rachel rolled her eyes.
"They make all the difference!"
Rachel smiled weakly and brought her face closer to give me a peck on the lips. It's been a while since we've shown this gesture of affection to each other.
"Sometimes I hate you...but I love you, Santy."
"The reciprocal is true."
Rachel snuggled into my arms. She would end up sleeping in my room. I didn't care if we were apart and not talking to each other at school. I needed her with me at that moment because I wanted some comfort too. Bullying came in many forms, it was perpetuated in the culture. It was as if it were a primitive human reaction to dominate or eliminate the other. It was very uncivilized, as Obi-Wan would say. But Rachel and I would have to go through this jungle, each in our own way. This was scary, but I needed to pick my head up and face life. Uncle Pedro said that difficult times produced strong people, but easy times produced weak people. Well, I would be a strong person and start playing my own game.