(Rachel)
You know when people talk about their marriage getting cold, or even dating? People usually relate it to a drop in sexual frequency with their respective partners to the point where it becomes a problem. I don't know if that's what happened with Papi and Dad's marriage, but I could see that even before the big fight between them, things seemed... cold. I wasn't sexually active yet, but in my own way, I could say that my relationship with Finn went cold. I no longer kissed him with the same enthusiasm, or counted the minutes to spend with him, to talk to him. I even avoided inviting him over to my house and spending an hour in my room when papi wasn't around and Santana promised not to disturb (as long as I behaved).
Quinn Fabray was to blame for all this. She kept popping into my head, disturbing my sleep and awakening things in me that I didn't understand. I tried to stay away from her, but I couldn't. It wasn't because of the classes we had together or the choir. I couldn't stay away from her because I found that Quinn was a great person to talk to, as long as I didn't talk about musicals or Broadway (I had Kurt for that). She didn't lose patience when I talked about my recent family drama, she had good music knowledge, she knew good literature (Quinn always had a book in her purse), she loved films, she knew something about sports (obviously, every cheerio needed to know), she had a good sense of the world, and she also knew how to gossip. I could, almost literally, talk anything with Quinn. That was fascinating.
It was different with Finn. If I talked about Santana, he changed the subject. He even said he was glad she wouldn't be in school anymore next school year. If I talked about Dad, he reminded me that he had lost his father much longer ago. If I talked about movies, he only knew the blockbusters, if I talked about politics, he changed the subject, if I talked about religion, he said he had none and changed the subject. He couldn't understand how I didn't know anything about football having a father who played for the Buckeyes. But I didn't like football, sorry, and no one in my house was a fanatic. Not even papi. I didn't speak the language of video games either. At most, I played Mario Bros with Santana from time to time, and those dance games. Finn didn't know how to gossip.
Quinn didn't force things, nor did she make a single comment about the times we kissed. If I brought it up, she just smiled and talked about something else. I think it was because she was still with Sam and I with Finn, and maybe she didn't believe that a relationship with a girl was something worth investing in. Especially since she was a Fabray. The question also involved me. Did I want a relationship with her? Was it worth letting myself get carried away with someone who messed with my feelings so much?
"Okay, everyone." Schuester started the meeting. "It's time to start planning our playlist for the nationals. Remembering that the competition takes place over three days, two qualifying rounds, and we need to get at least six numbers ready. Any suggestions?"
"We could do a tribute to rappers, since we'll be in New York." Artie gave his opinion and was supported by Mercedes.
"Okay, but if we do that, more than half the choir will be out of commission." Quinn teased. "Besides, every time we rap, the result is disastrous. Too white, no matter how hard Mercedes tries to bring balance."
"Hate on me was perfect!" Tina said and I didn't understand at all.
"Yeah, but…" Mercedes said with the look that certain people would not approve of. I don't know if she was talking about me or Mr. Schuester.
"We can make new songs." Finn smiled. "It worked at regionals and it can work at nationals. Those songs showed who we are."
"That's a good idea." Schuester smiled.
"I'm not sure it's quite there." Santana protested. "Rachel and Quinn spent over a week to come up with a passable song. We made five awful songs before collectively composing a cheap generic pop song extolling our loser side. That's because the jazz band guys did us the favor of coming up with an arrangement on short notice. Now you say we need six numbers? How are we going to write something decent in two weeks and still compete with other very strong teams who will perform well-known songs to win over the public and the jury?"
"Breathe, Satan, you're not Rachel!" Kurt quipped. He was back in McKinley after a brief stint in Dayton.
"Thank god, Prancy Smurf." She replied with her usual bluntness. "What I'm saying is that doing a whole setlist of original songs is risky. You say the words that come out in your heart and all the pretty metaphors you can think of. It would all go down the drain with the first person who sings anything by Beyonce or currently on Billboard."
"You're being pessimistic, as usual." Finn retorted.
"Am I? Then how about you write all six songs in a week and prove me wrong, moobs? In fact, if you have the ability to do a single one that's any good by tomorrow, I'll give you my left arm."
"I'm not playing your game."
"So you admit you can't." Santana gestured with her arms. "Is there anyone else here who can do that? Come up with six songs, arrange them and have everyone rehearse them in exactly 15 days?" No one spoke up. "That's what I thought. Once again, mr. Schuester leaves everything to the last minute to put together a setlist on the eve because we're all heart. Sorry. Not going to happen this time."
"Doesn't that mean we shouldn't try?" Tina said shyly.
"Girl Chang, if you're willing to risk a two-year job for something questionable, be my guest. But I don't know if I'll want any part of it."
"Why are you being so petty? More than your usual?" Finn squawked and I closed my eyes as I saw him get up.
"Me petty? Every time I say some truths someone accuses me of being mean. But every time an idiot like you says something well-meaning, you're treated like a hero. I'm tired of it! I'm tired of this school, I'm tired even of Mr Schuester, who is a terrible educator and can't even disguise his own preference game that stigmatizes everyone in this choir. Mercedes is the best singer, in my opinion. But in Mr. Schue's plans, she's only good for making the high notes so the performance doesn't look so bland. And you don't even know Tina exists, since she is one of the most technical singers, even though she doesn't have an interesting voice. But she is perfect for harmonizing. You, Finn, are mediocre and you don't have good technique, but you're the main male voice because you're mr. Schue darling. Even if Finn doesn't do the lead vocal, mr. Schue going to give the solo to Sam, who is also weak, instead of Artie, who despite his frog voice, is the best male vocal we have! If I'm being petty for telling the truth, then I guess I really do belong out of here!"
My sister got up and left the room. I was perplexed. Everybody was. That was the kind of attitude I would take, not her. Unlike the rest of the group, I had to take it in stride. No one but me, and maybe Brittany, knew the stress my sister was under. Things were messy at home after Stuyvesant. Santana and papi argued every day. On the one hand there was his pride at having a daughter capable of getting into the best prep schools in the country. On the other, he was wounded by losing his metaphorical wrestling match with Zaide that would cost Santana her absence from home a year earlier than it should be. My sister, on the other hand, had to defend the decision she had made, and also fight to have her letter of emancipation signed, which allowed her full autonomy in New York to resolve rental contracts and school issues. In the crossfire was me. As if my intense internal conflict wasn't enough.
What I can say is that the impact of the truths my sister spoke had an effect on the choir. The class began discussing what we should do for nationals. Most seemed willing to do at least two original songs, but we all had to agree that Santana had a point. Making "Get it Right" was a lot of work. It was hours and hours at Quinn's side to fit the words inside an imaginary melody. Brad, the pianist, came up with a very simple and trivial arrangement, not least because he is a public high school music teacher who has never made a career of it. He didn't have the ability to do anything better, or more inventive to try to improve. The jazz band was helpful, but they didn't like to be at our disposal all the time. That wouldn't do for a national event held in the Mecca of American theater. The judges were used to seeing the best plays, the best voices. We needed something more.
"What do you think, Rachel?" Finn asked, bringing me back from outer space.
"Think what?"
"We doing the ballads and the rest of the team doing the group songs?"
"I think you guys have lost your grip on reality." I snapped.
"Even you?" Finn looked at me like I had two heads.
"I even agree to do an original song, but you have to take into account that we only have 15 days to work, and as always, we only decide the repertoire a week before. We win more by individual value than by collective strength. Our choreography is always basic, except for the time Mike and Brittany danced in Valerie. I'm sorry, but my sister is actually right about that: if we do anything more elaborate in terms of choreography, we run the risk of Finn tripping over his own legs."
"That was mean, Rachy!" Brittany said almost laughing. I looked at my boyfriend and he had that surprised/offended look on his face.
"So what do you suggest?" Schuester stood expectantly.
"I don't know. I still need to think about it."
I grabbed my things and left the room. It wasn't as dramatic as my sister, but yes, Berry-Lopez style reigned. I didn't know where Santana had gone, but I chose to head to the auditorium instead. I thought better when I was up on stage. I went backstage and turned on the lights. I kept walking from one side to the other trying to put my love dramas aside to think of a solution for the choir. As the saying went: there's no point in swimming only to die on the beach.
"Is everything okay?" I sighed in dismay at the sight of Quinn. The universe wasn't helping me, when all I wanted most was less drama.
"No!" I replied dryly.
"Worried about the nationals..." She kept her distance. "We always find a solution. This time will be no different."
"You're too confident to be you, Quinn."
"I agree that this may not be the time for original songs. That means we need to find a good quality, coherent setlist. I don't think it will be that difficult to select six between now and the end of this week."
"Any songs in mind?"
"None in particular. Sam came to school listening to country, which he loves, and I can't get Ricky Nelson out of my mind. Not a good parameter." She smiled. "If it was at least John Mayer, I'd be happy."
"You like John Mayer?"
"Don't you?"
I just smiled. I didn't like it. We exchanged small smiles and glances, and I realized it was true: Quinn had the power to hypnotize with her gaze, with her well-drawn lips, her white, straight teeth. The next thing I knew, those lips were against mine. Quinn's tongue, the softness, the butterflies in my stomach, the way she held me, everything was wonderful. I wanted to lose myself there, but ironically, it made me wake up. I broke the kiss and pushed her gently.
"We have to stop this."
"Why?"
"I don't know what you want, Quinn. Ever since Dad died I've noticed how much kinder you've been to me. Suddenly you've started inducing me to cheat on my boyfriend and you're deliberately cheating on yours. I don't know what your game is, but I don't want to get into it. I shouldn't..."
"There is no game."
"It's not what it looks like, Quinn Fabray. The way things are going, it's not what it looks like! You confuse me and it's hurting me. Either tell me what your real intentions are, or stop pretending to be my friend."
I made my second dramatic exit in less than half an hour.
I found Santana sitting and basking in the meager sunshine that day. I sat next to her and we didn't say a word for a long time.
"I hate those people." She grumbled. "I'm glad I'm leaving."
"You don't. You're just over your head these days, and rightly so. Unfortunately I'm a privileged witness that everything surrounding your move to New York is not being easy."
"Yeh!" Santana looked off into nothingness again. "I thought the proposal to make original songs was silly. We won't be able to make something of quality in time. If it was one song, I suppose it would be possible, but six?"
"I think so too." Santana looked at me with a frown. "The only theme song I can think of right now is about the bows you wear after you stopped tying up your hair every day." She laughed. "Actually I can't think of anything."
"We should go to the movies."
"There's nothing interesting on that we haven't already seen."
"Then let's watch a good movie at home. I need to relax."
We watched Almost Famous.
...
"Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll!" I fired off in front of the class at an extra meeting. I got the idea while watching Almost Famous. The movie inspired me to do something along those lines.
"What?" Kurt shouted. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I've never been more lucid, Kurt. Instead of original songs, we can create theatrical performances with songs that dialogue with our generation. Sex, sensuality, the relationship with drugs and music. So we can include songs from various eras and styles within one purpose. We create a uniqueness in all our presentations."
"Wait a minute, Rachel, don't you think that's a little heavy to approach coming from 16 and 17 year olds?"
"I'm 18!" Shouted Mike and the others laughed.
"I like the idea." Noah voiced. "Considering I hate almost all the songs we put in the competitions, it would be nice to finally do something close to what I live by."
"About the supposed age censorship." Santana articulated. "It's good to keep in mind that everything can be adaptable. Children read infantilized versions of McBeth, for example."
"What's that?" Noah made a puzzled face.
"Shakespeare's cursed play." I explained for the sake of explaining, knowing Noah would still not understand. "A lot of people put it down as being a play about evil and there's a lot of mystique surrounding it... where were you in English class, by any chance?"
"Around..."
"I liked it. But it seems to complex. How are you going work this idea?" Tina questioned.
"I have my means."
"What my sister means." Santana caught the word. "That everything is adaptable to a certain audience range. You can't talk about drugs to children in the same way it's discussed among adults, but it's possible within a proper context."
"You two set this up?" Finn looked confused. "How?"
"I don't know Finnept... maybe because my sister and I talk at home!" Santana said rudely.
"Instead of creating random songs, it's possible to select a few good ones and create something different around them that goes beyond a standard choreography." I took back the floor before my sister started another big argument. "As co-captain of our Glee Club, I took it upon myself to plan with my sister a way for us to do this. We will have three days of performances, with two qualifiers and the grand final. We will divide the days into themes. Drugs, sex and rock'n'roll. Each one on one day. In order for us to be able to work well in each sector, we will divide the glee club into three groups, and each one will be responsible for the setlist of the day, the lineup of soloists and the choreography. What do you think?"
"Divide and conquer!" Mercedes approved.
The idea excited the whole choir and, at the end of the meeting, we defined the groups responsible for planning each performance session. The first two, because they were elimination rounds, required stronger groups, because if we fell in these stages, goodbye dream. Santana, Kurt, Noah, Lauren and Brittany were in charge of planning the "Drugs" segment; Artie, Mercedes, Mike and Tina were in charge of the "Sex" segment; Me, Quinn, Finn and Sam were in charge of the "Rock" segment and Mr. Schue would oversee all three groups.
I left the school excited and with a mind full to do my best. That's when I saw Sam slumped in a corner. I remembered that he was quiet the entire time at the meeting, but I attributed that to Quinn's absence at the choir meeting.
"Hi Sam." He looked at me with disinterest. "How are you?" I wanted to be friendly.
"Good..."
"Do you know why Quinn didn't come for the meeting today?"
"I don't know. I have nothing more to do with her."
"What?"
"Quinn broke up with me yesterday. She didn't even tell me a good reason. She just broke up."
