(Santana)
I wish I could hide my smile. Could I still hold back from commenting but not smiling? It was an almost impossible task. Put yourself in my shoes: how not to hold back when you see the pompous Fabray Jr. walking down the halls with five pounds of makeup on her face to hide a tasty black eye? And the best part of the story is that I was the cause.
Ever since Rachel got slushied in the face, it seemed that school had decided it was okay to bully who they considered losers. Rachel started to be attacked at least twice a week. Not just her: there was the gay boy, the members of the math club (which I refused to be a part of – I preferred death), and even two of the boys who study advanced math with me. At first, I was horrified by it, and angry to see Quinn, jocks and other idiots attacking Rachel. But after two weeks of seeing these scenes almost daily, I think I got used to it. I could lash out at someone with my repertoire of insults, but I was incapable of taking part in the slushie attacks, and I even promised myself I would never use it.
It became routine in no time: Quinn threw slushie in Rachel's face and I pretended I didn't care. Until gossip started circulating that my sister would have reacted and pushed Quinn, who fell on her butt to the ground. Rachel's version: Quinn tripped over her own foot and fell on her own. I believed in my sister. Rachel was capable of fistfighting if she had to: I taught her that: my way, of course. But from that to fighting at school… no, she wouldn't be capable of that except in exceptional circumstances.
The problem is, I heard Frannie urging Quinn to retaliate with more aggression. It was at that moment that I hit the fuck you button for the first time at that school. I waited for Quinn to distance herself from the riot police protecting her and Frannie. So I "kidnapped" her and took her under the stands of the football field, because I knew the place would be empty at that time. Or at most there would be a skank or two smoking: only these girls wouldn't care about see a fight between cheerios.
"What do you think you're doing, Lopez?" Quinn snapped.
"If you lay so much as a finger on my sister, I swear I will rip you apart."
"Rachel pushed me!"
"You tripped!" I replied in the can and by the look she gave me, I saw that my sister really told the truth. "If you want to hit her, hit me first… if you can!"
Well, I've known Quinn for a few years now. I mean: we occasionally crossed paths in the city and went to the same school. It's in that sense that I knew her. She was always the epitome of the stoic person, until she got into McKinley, when she put her wings out. But I didn't remember ever seeing her with so much hate. She really went after me. So I pushed her and landed a well-placed left punch. Quinn drops to the floor and I glare at her.
"You can even carry on this heiress to the throne farce. You can even continue to be ridiculous throwing slushies in my sister's face just to make your point. But if you hit her, or if you harm her on purpose, I swear you'll get hit twice as hard."
I left Quinn on the floor.
Dad was right when she said I would always try to protect Rachel in my own way. I can't help myself because she's part of me.
That's why Quinn showed up to school today with heavy makeup on her face.
"So much makeup won't melt?" I teased as soon as she passed me in the hall at the time before second class. I couldn't hold it.
"No more than you need another life and attitude."
"Yeah, yeah."
My spirit was so light that I thought of sparing the calculus teacher's sanity. I also had a Spanish class with the worst teacher possible. Mr. Schuester barely knew the basics for him to get by in a Spanish-speaking country, let alone teach it. Incidentally, that school was a joke in terms of teaching quality. You could count five really good teachers. Everyone else was just a sad joke. The other day, I wrote a cake recipe in Spanish to answer a question on Schuester's exam: he got the question correct! That school is unbelievable. Only my soul mate could make me stay there.
At the third period, Brittany rushed to meet me when she saw me.
"Did you see, San?" She pulled me by the arm. She was distressed. There were cheerios friends of Frannie's nearby and they started to laugh out loud. I frowned at them before turning my full attention to Britt. "Rachel got a huge slushie bath! They used a bucket this time, just like in Carrie's movie! She went to the bathroom crying." I had a good feeling that Quinn wasn't going to let the punch go cheap.
"Rachel knows her way around!" I tried to hide any feelings.
"But San..."
"Rachel is smart. She'll handle her problems without our help. She'll be fine soon. What you need to do now is forget about my sister and focus on your next class!"
"And you?"
"What?"
"Are you going to class?" Brittany glared at me. She sure didn't swallow my calm. "If you said that Rachel knows how to handle her own problems and isn't going to help her, then you have to go to class, right?"
"Right! Do you want me to walk you to your class?"
"I want to walk you to yours."
Brittany was smart. She could sniff out when she thought about getting me into trouble and would do anything to make me change my mind. Over her shoulder, I saw Quinn and Frannie laughing and high-fiveing each other. Afterwards, the older Fabray crossed paths with her boyfriend and unleashed a public kiss scene worthy of a porn movie. They started walking towards us. The moment our eyes met, Frannie blinked. My blood boiled. I responded by holding up my middle finger.
"I'll walk you, Britt Britt."
"San, don't get in trouble!"
"I promise I won't."
Brittany looked me in the eyes, then gave up. We joined the pinkies and walked to her next class. Then I went into the bathroom closest the toilet's door and waited for the bell. The monitors would be concerned with making the delays reach their destinations and the exit would be unprotected. I didn't have to make any effort to hide and run towards the exit. I looked for the black 2007 Ford Fiesta with the "Queen F" license plate. Nothing cheesier and cliché. I grabbed a pen and crouched down in front of one of the wheels. I looked around to make sure no one was approaching. Everything was clean. So I unscrewed the spittoon cap and used the pen to deflate. The air came out strong.
"Hey! What are you doing?" I got such a fright that I lost my balance and fell to my side. My heart went into my mouth. I looked up and saw a chubby black girl. I wanted to scream at her to get out of there and leave me alone. Maybe threaten her if she opened her mouth. But my instinct led me in another direction: to talk.
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"Deflating a tire!" She rolled her eyes. "The question is why?"
"Well...is this your car?" I went back to concentrating on the tire valve to get that damn air out.
"No!" The girl continued to stand there.
"Then it's not your problem!"
"I don't know if anyone warned you, but this car belongs to Frannie Fabray."
"And?"
"If Frannie finds out, you're dead! Say goodbye to your uniform and everything."
"Are you her friend or something?"
"Hell no!"
"So here's the thing: you don't tell them you saw me here and you get a few extra laughs later. What do you think?"
To my surprise, the girl sat down on the ground in front of the other tire and started trying to deflate it. I saw that small marginal acts were unfamiliar to her. The chubby one fumbled and gave up. So she sat on the curb between the cars and watched me. I didn't have anything to talk to her about, on the other hand, she didn't seem like someone I would have to worry about either. I got back to concentrating on my job and soon moved on to the second tyre.
"Mercedes Jones." She introduced herself.
"Santana." I answered without looking at her.
"You're the sister of the girl Quinn stalks, aren't you?"
"Is that what people are saying?"
"It's just a rumor. But then, are you or aren't you her sister?"
"Unfortunately, I am."
"When Kurt told me, I didn't believe it. How could you be so different? I mean, you don't look much alike, except for your thinness and a few details here and there. Any of you adopted?"
"You're a pretty good observer by the way," I sneered. "There's a story that's definitely none of your business." To my surprise, Mercedes respected it and didn't insist.
Soon the second tire was on the ground. I quickly went to the other side of the vehicle. I started to unplug the valve when someone else sneaked up on me. I got scared thinking it was a guard or some snitch. It was Rachel. I had to cover my own mouth to keep from screaming or cursing loudly.
"What are you doing here?" I screamed in a whisper. But then my heart sank when I saw her with her hair wet and tied in a makeshift ponytail. Her ugly blouse and skirt were wet and her shoes were stained.
"I saw you running away and spent some time debating whether I should follow you or not. Here I am." I noticed that Mercedes was still there watching us and Rachel waved at the other girl and then turned her attention back to me. "Whose car is this and what do you think you're doing? If you get caught, you'll be suspended and our dads will kill you. You will be grounded for half a century!"
"This is the queen bee's car and it's called a counterattack."
"From Frannie?" I could tell Rachel was having second thoughts. "What if they know?"
"Only if one of us tells…" Mercedes held her hand out to Rachel. "Mercedes Jones".
"Rachel Berry-Lopez!" My sister quickly greeted her and moved on to the other tire. She began to empty it as easily as I did. Yes, she had experience in this kind of prank: I forced her to help me deflate the bike tires of some bullies and annoying girls that crossed our path. We flattened the neighbor's car tire once.
"Why are you willing to keep it a secret?" I asked Mercedes.
"My brother, Ethan, can't stand Frannie, but she's Harry's girlfriend, his best friend. Every time Frannie comes over, she says something rude to me. She's unbearable, she treats me badly, she doesn't even respect my brother. "
"Ethan Jones is the replacement quarterback, right?" I wanted to make sure.
"Yes, he is!"
"Cool! You have some immunity."
"Not so much. Having a popular brother doesn't help if people still consider you a loser."
I finished one more tire and sat there on the asphalt waiting for Rachel to finish hers. It was a matter of a minute or two and our crime was done. The car was on the ground and the Fabrays would have to be towed home. Just imagining that psychopathic Nazi freaking out in the parking lot was immensely satisfying. Couldn't wait to see it live.
"Looks like the damage is done." Mercedes smiled. "Time to get out of here."
As usual, I led the way back, making sure no one caught us. We sneaked back into the school building and into the first bathroom to wash up and also to wait for the next class change signal.
"Too bad they don't have bar soap and some sand." Rachel commented.
"What for sand?" Mercedes was intrigued.
"Wipe the grease off your hands." I completed the explanation.
"Something tells me this isn't the first time you've done this sort of thing."
"And that is none of your business!"
"Santana, here..." Rachel handed me the paper towels and finished cleaning herself, trying to get some of the sugar off her body.
"Let's go to the locker room so you can shower, Ray." I suggested. "Wear the PE T-shirt."
"But it's all sweaty." Rachel complained.
"Would you rather have that sugar stuck in your body?"
"I can help." Mercedes said.
"Don't worry. My sister will help me." Rachel nodded at Mercedes. "Thank you anyway."
The chubby girl seemed like a nice person. If I'm not mistaken, I had two or three classes with her. I wasn't used to taking good notice of others who didn't interest me. But friendship with her was unlikely. Mercedes dressed as if she wanted to be Missy Eliot's cosplay, only she was far from having any appeal or sparkle of her own. In other words: loser. We heard the bell and I was relieved to get out of that smelly bathroom.
"Friends?" Mercedes held out her hand to say goodbye.
"Partners in this crime." I returned the gesture. "That doesn't mean we'll be friends."
"It's the cheerio thing, right?" She pointed at the uniform and I just nodded. "Have a nice life!"
Rachel and I hurried to the locker room, where she took a five-minute shower before changing into her PE worn clothes and heading back to class. I met Brittany again at lunch. She was chatting with Cherrie, Amy and other newbie cheerio. It was amazing how she managed to make friends. Brittany was a very easy going person. A pity that not everyone understood the beautiful pink world she lived in. I would be less worry if there weren't so many people in this world willing to take advantage of Brittany, her talent, her innocence.
"San!" Brittany waved me over to the table. "Have you seen Rachel?" She wrinkled her forehead.
"You know…" I said more to the other cheerios than to Brittany. I couldn't trust them because I knew they were Frannie and Quinn Fabray's moles. "I don't care about that loser's problems. What I'm more interested in is Richard Mason's party this weekend!"
There would be no cheerio activity after school, so Rachel and I would ride our bikes home together. My sister, as usual, was waiting for me in the parking lot. But this time something was different. She was staring in the direction of the Fabrays' car. Frannie screamed that she was going to kill the delinquent who flattened all four of the car's tires. Colleagues nearby were running to borrow spare tires. Quinn was leaning against another car looking out at the world like she was too cool for this pandemonium. The scene was hilarious!
"Let's get out of here, Ray, before they see us."
"Can't I appreciate it some more?" It's been a long time since I've seen Rachel so happy with the result of our prank.
"We don't have the same tough face as the Comedian, who kills and laughs."
"From who?"
"Watchmen."
"The comic book by that author who wrote that porn you illegally downloaded on the internet without our parents know?" Apparently Rachel eavesdropping on one of my conversations with Brittany. And yes, Brittany and I read this pornographic comic book as educational material.
"I am a curious girl. And that is art." I took the lock and chain off my bike.
"Since when is porn art?"
"Have you ever seen porn?"
"You know I'm not! I won't waste my brain on degrading things."
"If you've never seen porn, you can't tell." Rachel made a face at me and I started to laugh. "Let's go, prude!"
We avoid going through the crossfire. Frannie was screaming and waving her arms like a hysterical madwoman. I think she was about to kneel on the floor and give a Scarlett O'Hara-style speech. She would pick up the asphalt pebbles and swear never to be deceived and humiliated again. Not to mention the death oaths.
Frankly, honey, I don't give a shit.
Rachel and I weren't the only ones who were enjoying the spectacle with a sweet taste of revenge on our lips. A little further away were Mercedes Jones and the effeminate boy who was thrown into the trash everyday by Puck and other troglodytes. Rachel waved at them and followed with a huge smile on her face.
"Is she going to tell anyone?" Rachel asked imposing her voice so I could hear her. I was a little ahead of her, too focused on the two and a half kilometers of riding that lay ahead of us to our house.
"I don't know! I don't think so."
"You who like comics so much, you should invent a secret identity for these things. It's important to leave a mark, you know? We can call it El Justo!"
"And this persona is going to mark the walls with a "z"?" That was the dumbest idea in the world.
I understand it was good prank, but my sister was overreacting. Why did she have to be so dramatic about everything? That was just another day that we did one of our actions. I mean, I did the prank and she enjoyed it. Although, if you think about it, it was the first time in a long time that I didn't have to force Rachel into my plans. Maybe we should celebrate or something. A glorious victory just for today, because I knew that tomorrow and the day after and the day after, Frannie would continue to take out her anger at me at cheerleading practice, and Quinn would throw slushies in Rachel's face. Deflated tires wouldn't change that.
"One day you will see. I'm going to be a Broadway star and these people who mistreat me today are going to fight to be my friends."
"I don't think it's the kind of friendship you'd like to have, Ray. I wouldn't want people to get close to me because I'm famous."
"Well..." She reconsidered as we got off our bikes in front of our house.
Rachel opened the garage door and we left our bikes inside. Dad was home, but Papi's car, as usual, was away. We found Dad talking to two men. He smiled when he saw us and introduced us to a couple of his gay friends who lived in Cleveland.
"Don't you remember Fred and Max?" Dad asked.
"Sorry..." I said. Rachel stayed away for obvious reasons. She didn't want to draw attention because she came back to the house in her PE uniform.
"You two were little the last time we were here..." One of Dad's friends commented and then looked at Rachel and frowned. I think he sensed that something had happened and wondered whether or not he should comment. Before he can make up his mind, I smile at the guests already pushing my sister out of the kitchen.
"If you'll excuse me, our day has been long and we need to go upstairs."
I apologized and I could see that Rachel was grateful for I having acted quickly. Dad was suspicious that something out of the ordinary was going on at school and he even asked once why Rachel went to school in one outfit and came back in another. It was a conversation that maybe we wouldn't run away from, but it wouldn't happen that day. We went upstairs and given the circumstances, I didn't even consider claiming the bathroom first. I took off my sneakers, threw myself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Half an hour later, Rachel knocked on my bedroom door.
"Santy? I can get in?"
"Yeap."
Rachel was freshly showered, smelling like roses, in her normal, clean home clothes. She sat on my bed and smiled at me in a way she rarely did these days.
"What will the plan be for tomorrow?"
"Survive another day."
"I'm serious, Santy."
"I'm too. Do you really think Bitch Fabray isn't smart enough to realize I'm the one who did the prank? It's a matter of connecting the dots. She'll make me exercise to death and put me at the bottom of the pyramid and you'll probably get another slushie in your face tomorrow."
"I think you're right."
"At least there is a silver lining to this story."
"Which is?"
"The Fabrays will understand that they aren't untouchable."
"Looking this way..."
"In my notebook, that is a winning."
"It's a very small winning."
"Who says you will be the only one?"