(Rachel)
The nationals were held over three days, when 15 teams from across the country would compete for the prize money. The first stage, held on Thursday, was the technical competition. The judges looked at unity, posture, harmony of voices. It wasn't good business to do an entire song solo, because the ensemble counted more points in this part than individuality. From there, five groups go home. On Friday things get more complicated because artistic value comes into play, but with still a big focus on technique. Imagine putting on a show like the regionals knowing that it is only elimination? There are ten groups in this phase, so that only five are left in the grand final.
Saturday is the day of the show. The house is packed, the audience is hungry for entertainment. In addition to oozing talent, the finalist choirs need to communicate well, emote, win over the audience that directly influences the opinion of the celebrity judges. That's the point here, because technically all five of the remaining teams match up: they are already the best in the country. There is more at stake. Scouts from the theater and music industry watch the competition. They look for the best soloists, the most interesting people, the best performers to be in off-off-Broadway shows, which serve to test a certain concept for a bigger show with more production budget. Music industry scouts are on the lookout for new pop music talent, someone who has a good voice, beauty and attitude.
In short: it was my first big chance.
It was also the last big performance of the current New Directions group. Noah, Mike, and Lauren were graduating that summer. Mike had been accepted to OSU and was going to major in civil engineering or something, Lauren was going to try her luck at Community College, and Noah was going to survive somehow. There was Brittany: her father had moved to Los Angeles, and she and her sister and mother were packed to move as soon as the school year was over. Mr. Pierce was a journalist and a cartoonist. As a journalist he was the editor-in-chief of the city newspaper Lima Post. As a cartoonist, he did work for The New Yorker and even published a very nice independent ghaphic novel chronicling the war in Afghanistan. The Los Angeles Times called him to coordinate the art desk. It was Mr. Pierce's first opportunity at a major newspaper and a respectable salary. He couldn't pass up the opportunity. There was still Santana who was going to Stuyvesant. My sister would be living in New York first than I.
I considered this a melancholy end for the current choir team. Next school year, we would have to start working hard again to reconstitute the group with the minimum of 12. It would be all different, another dynamic, since there would be five new members. Even for that, the nationals were crucial for the future of New Directions.
A favorable factor about our strategy was that Vocal Adrenalina won the last national championship with thematic presentations. They did a repertoire all about current English female composers, and the final number was with "Rehab" and "Mercy" by Amy Winehouse and Duffy. We planned three separate acts: drugs, sex and rock'n'roll. Of course, we had a plan "B" up our sleeve in case we couldn't put the first one into practice, it's a precaution we took after we learned our lesson in our first competition.
"Will this crazy idea of yours work out?"
"It's a calculated risk, Quinn. But we need to differentiate ourselves from other choirs in some way. This is a very competitive environment, and I consider the possibility of more rigorous positions regarding creativity because this is Broadway land and one of the places with the best professionals..."
"Okay, okay... I get it!" Quinn rolled her eyes and then smiled. "You've said that a million times."
I was more and more bewitched by that smile and those eyes. When I heard that she broke up with Sam because of me, to show that she was no longer willing to play games of seduction, I thought the world would end, or that she could only be making fun of me in a very perverse plan. Quinn said she would give me space for the sake of the nationals. That was important so I could concentrate on the performances. We rehearsed every day for two hours. I was pleased to see that everyone took it with the utmost professionalism, despite my sister's dog-like humor. But when it came time to board the bus, knowing that Finn had two seats because of his long legs, Quinn didn't hesitate to travel next to me.
Sam was in the next armchair across the aisle with Noah. He looked over from time to time. Sam hadn't gotten over breaking up with Quinn, whereas I was secretly happy that they had. Despite everything, I didn't like seeing them together anymore. I admit I was jealous. In the armchair in front of Sam was Santana. She chose to be alone, not that anyone but me wanted to risk trying to survive the acrimony. Brittany stood next to Artie. Even though they had officially broken up, they were still very close friends. Tina and Mike, Mercedes and Kurt, Lauren, Professor Schuester and Brad were scattered around the bus. And there were the boys from the jazz band along with the two boys who would be manning the light tables for our performances.
"My father was looking at a studio for Santana to live in." I said. Even though they were fighting a lot, he still wanted to help her. Besides, Papi was horrified to see her living in the house of an old sexual predator, in his view. He'd rather pay the rent on a small apartment for my sister.
"What?"
"Santana. She's going to live alone in New York. Have you thought about it? Papi is looking at an apartment near Stuyvesant, so she can ride her bike to school or walk."
"It's going to be weird not seeing Santana next school year."
"Santana's going to live in New York first before I do. That's weird!"
"Sometimes I get the feeling that you're going to end up in NYC sooner than you think. Especially now that Santana is going to Manhattan to study." Quinn turned her face to the window and frowned.
"Would you miss me?" I teased.
"You?" She raised one eyebrow.
"Honestly, I'd take great offense to you missing Santana and not me. Just like me who was your greatest adversary at school."
"You? My great adversary? Dream on Lopez 2. You were my favorite target. Lopez 1 was my big opponent... she still is."
"Quinn, are you going to deny that I was your primary role model while you were developing your artistic skills?"
"What?"
"All the pornographies you 'posted' in the bathroom and the collection of caricatures of me you have in a certain notebook. Plus, I stole almost every boyfriend you had at school: Finn, Noah. And don't forget I gave you a discreet push to get with Sam. Be real, I was the most remarkable person in your school life."
"Don't talk like that!" She frowned again.
"Like what?"
"Like you're saying goodbye to me."
Quinn looked back at the window and this time ignored me for a long time. The bus was quiet at that moment and I attribute it to tiredness from the long trip. Sam kept looking over. Quinn never commented a comma about her relationship with Sam. She had always been very private in that sense. But a good observer could tell (and I was one) that things had changed between them since the regionals. By coincidence (or not), the same day she kissed me for the first time. The camera became a frequent companion to Quinn. I was impressed when I saw her photos on facebook from regionals and our trip to Lake Erie. All artistic, with interesting control of light. She also writes very well, a skill that was also unknown to me. Before, I wouldn't have been surprised to see Quinn dressed in a well-cut, killer suit working at a big law firm. My vision changed. The image became one of a beautiful woman traveling the world, dressed in a press vest, exposing injustices through the lens of a camera.
"I'll get some water. Want anything from the cooler?" Sam offered, already humping Noah's legs.
"No, thanks!" Quinn didn't even take her eyes off the window, and I confess that gestures like that were capable of making my blood freeze. She's the kind of person who naturally intimidates.
Sam made his way to the front of the bus, where Professor Schuester, Brad, Lauren and Finn were. It was curious that Finn didn't come up to us once. He was either asleep or too entertained with his handheld video game. Finn annoyed me when it came to video games. He acted like a big boy at times and might have preferred the infernal game to being with me. Unless our action involved lying on the bed with me, on top of him preferably, moving in such a way as to create friction on the parts that interested him.
"NYC in sight." Mr. Schuester shouted and the whole bus celebrated, except Quinn who seemed oblivious.
"Aren't you excited?" I frowned and she finally turned her face toward me.
"Why would I be?"
"I would be just because it's New York and I've been in the city this year. We still have the nationals to compete in. Isn't that something to get excited about, or at least to look forward to?"
"Maybe." And she ignored me almost completely.
Almost. Although her face turned back to the window, I felt her arm moving against mine until she finally held my hand and intertwined our fingers. I felt more shivers run down my spine and butterflies flutter inside my stomach. I was still fighting the idea that I was falling in love with Quinn Fabray.
We braved heavy traffic to get to our accommodation in Harlem. The student hostel was a four-story building, and nice inside. It charged a daily rate of 15 dollars and allowed guests to stay up to 15 days max. On the first floor there was the reception, the kitchen/dining room, and the common lounge with television and games tables. There was a pub in the basement, but people under 18 weren't allowed in. The cheapest rooms were on the second floor. All had their own bathroom. The more expensive and larger rooms, at 30 dollars a day, with beds instead of bunk beds, were on the third floor. The fourth floor was where the hostel owners lived and there was an exclusive access. I imagined that the apartment must be huge. There was also the terrace with some little tables with parasols, sun loungers. It was where the guests used to look at the city, smoke and other things.
It's a good thing we left Lima with everything booked, because the hostel was at full capacity. In addition to the usual people from other countries taking advantage of cities around the world traveling on a budget, an opposing choir from North Carolina was also staying there. We tried to be friendly as we crossed paths with them in the hallways on the second floor. The reception was not the same. We grabbed our stuff and settled in where we were entitled. I was happy to see that the rooms were large and clean with three bunk beds and individual lockers with locks. The house rules didn't allow mixed rooms. A couple, for example, had to pay for a room on the third floor. It was a policy adopted to prevent the hostel from turning into a cheap motel. In our room, on the first bunk on the left, closest to the window, were Quinn and Tina. Santana and I shared the right bunk immediately next to it. Mercedes and Brittany took the left bunk closest to the bathroom door. Lauren rented her own room.
"How odd about that other choir." Tina smiled as she tidied the sheet on the top bunk.
"I had a feeling that redhead's head was going to explode when they found out we were opponents." Mercedes commented.
"Maybe they were planning on doing extra rehearsals and we messed up the plans." At least that's how I interpreted the other choir's reaction.
"We could try spying." Mercedes mused.
"How childish of you." Santana grumbled as she lay down on the top bunk.
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Lopez 1?" Quinn teased.
"Interested to know which side of the bed I sleep on, Fabray?"
"It's the left one." Brittany replied.
"Hey, Quinn and Santana." Mercedes chimed in. "Give it a rest, okay? It's like Mr. Schue said: This is team time. No fighting!"
"There's a really good coffee shop nearby." Tina changed the subject. "I saw it on Google Maps. Anyone up for it?"
"Decaf for Santana!"
"Quinn!" Now it was my turn to rant.
"Like you're not going to have one just like it, Lopez 2." Quinn grinned.
"I agree." Mercedes patted Quinn's shoulders. "Give the Lopez girls caffeine, and as a result we'd have a Taz-Rachel-Mania talking through her elbows and a Dr. Santana House. No one would survive to nationals."
"Thanks for the share, Mercedes, but know that I have very healthy lifestyle habits, plus my own regular vitamins that prevent harm. In other words, I neither need nor enjoy making use of certain stimulant drinks... humf..." Quinn grabbed me from behind to cover my mouth using excessive energy.
"Get your paws off her, tubbers." Santana was up off the bed and jumping off the bunk in two seconds. The next, it was Brittany holding her by the waist.
"This is getting out of hand here." Tina reached over to restrain Santana.
"It was just a joke." Quinn released me. "I wouldn't hurt Rachel. For Christ's sake, what's your problem?"
"Las chicas están con razón. Usted está sobrepasando los limites." I held Santana by the shoulders and was careful to speak in Spanish because I know the other girls had a hard time understanding it.
"You can let go of me, okay?" Santana said to Brittany. I used the moment to grab Santana's hand and pulled her out of the room. My sister still had the spite to push Quinn on the way.
"We need to talk now!"
We were new arrivals at the hostel and the common room was full at that hour. I pulled Santana towards the terrace which we accessed by internal stairs (there was also the external fire one). I thought correctly. The terrace was empty. It wasn't much and the sun loungers were much older and dirtier than they looked in the photos. I felt disgusted by them because all those movies with couples having sex on the terraces like that came to mind. In doubt, I preferred to stand with my arms crossed. Santana was standing with her back to me, looking at a landscape that wasn't much of a landscape at all. It overlooked a cement court in a small square with some kids playing street basketball.
"Your scolding has crossed the line." She continued to stand, staring at the horizon with the thought that seemed far away. "I'm aware that you're stressed, but our friends have nothing to do with it. Brittany isn't to blame for her choice, and neither is our father... nor Dad's death."
"Ray, do me a favor? Let me breathe for two seconds? In five minutes I promise I'll come down and talk to you, okay? I swear to you. But just let me stay here a little bit away from the others. It's not easy being in New York knowing that in a few weeks I'll be alone here in this world." She sat down on one of the disgusting sun loungers. I wanted to stop her from doing that, but... well, she had already sat down anyway.
"Five minutes!"
I walked down the stairs leading to the roof and was intending to go to my room, when Brittany approached me halfway down. Her expression was one of sadness.
"It's my fault." She spoke looking between her fingers, as if she had broken the vase in the house and hidden the shards in the bottom of a drawer for no one to see.
"What are you talking about?"
"San is angry and it's my fault. I'm moving to Los Angeles and that's why she's so angry. Now she's going to have to move to this city too, when what she really wanted was to stay with you, your father and me. If I stayed in Lima, San would stay too, but I can't. My mother enrolled me in a new school and in a dance company in Los Angeles, where I'll be able to do everything better. It's what I like to do, Rach. My dancing is the only chance I have to be someone with my own identity. It hurts a lot to know that it hurts Santana".
Brittany was partly right. She was one of the reasons for Santana's upset, but never the main one. God forgive me, but I began to feel very angry with Zaide for all the pressure he put on my sister's shoulders to take over the factories and all the other businesses he built. And I'm mad with dad to, because respecting one last wish of his, to see her in a really strong school. She's just afraid with all the changes. I'd like to do something, but the truth is that I can't just make Santana give up studying in a place that exists for people like her. Mckinley is a shit school, it's not fair.
"She's up on the roof." I said to Britt. "Here's what you do: go up there and talk to her. Santana always feels better when you explain yourself and you make up. Don't you think it's time to move past all that?" By "making up" I mean "having a quickie". My thoughts turned again to the lounger and my stomach did a little flip.
"Do you think she'll forgive me and be okay with everyone?"
"I'm sure! Santana can't resist your sweet lady kisses."
"Neither can I resist hers. Thank you Rachy." We hugged briefly and Brittany made her way to upstairs.
Throughout the halls, the tension between New Directions and the North Carolina choir was real. If it wasn't, mr. Schuester wouldn't be doing any moral lessons to the boys. I wasn't interested in the discussions and was thankful that the door to the girls' room was before the throng of people.
"Your conversation with Santana was quick." Quinn was the only one in the room. She was lying on her back on her bed listening to music on her cell phone.
"Where are the girls?"
"They left to go to that café. They said they'd bring it for us and assured us that for you and Santana it would be decaffeinated."
"Whatever." I sat up in my bed. "I'm sorry about Santana's attitude. The fight, the push, everything. She... we're not going through a very good phase at home and my sister tends to take it out on the first thing that moves. It's usually me, but this time it's taken on a bigger proportion."
"I accept your apology on one condition."
"What?"
"Kiss me!" My heart skipped a beat.
"What?" I was surprised and excited at the same time by Quinn's sudden attitude.
"You heard me. I want an apology kiss from you."
"You, Quinn Fabray, want to kiss me?"
"You talk like we haven't done this before. But yes, I do!"
I moved closer and leaned in. I kissed her lips lightly.
"Satisfied?"
"It was... interesting. But I know you can do better." Quinn looked me in the eye, challenging me. This made me particularly motivated.
I held out my hand for her to get up too and pulled her against my body. Then she slipped one of her hands behind my neck and our lips met. It wasn't long before our tongues did too. I think I went into a trance. It was always good to be like this with Quinn, and I confess I was missing those lips. She did her part in showing how serious she was about fighting for me. She broke up with Sam that same day she kissed me in the auditorium. As much as I wanted her too, there was my fling with Finn. That related to another flaw of mine: I had a hard time letting go of what I had won. I'd go into a tailspin at the thought of giving up Finn, who'd made me invest so much to be with him, in favor of this crazy crush on Quinn.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this again." She whispered in my ear. "Having to be close to you, singing with you, having to respect your space and seeing you with that asshole. That's torture, Rach."
"Yeah?" I was still reeling from the sensation of the kiss.
"Yeah! I want you Rachel Berry-Lopez." She kissed my lips once more. "I broke up with Sam to show you that I was free for you and only you." Came the smile that was killing me. "I'm told New York buildings often have interesting roofs."
"Yes... NO!" The word rooftop snapped me back to reality and Quinn frowned. "I mean, we can't go to the rooftop or anywhere else, Quinn. Santana and Britt are upstairs making up. And god knows how critical that is not only to the quality of my home life but also to the competition tomorrow. Besides, I'm still with Finn."
"Still? You mean tomorrow you might not be anymore?"
The door suddenly opened and we immediately moved away in a fantastic reaction time that deserved to be measured. Kurt came into our room wanting to gossip. Apparently Blaine was in town to honor him. Quinn lay back on her bed and went back to reading, ignoring Kurt's presence. As my friend excitedly talked about the presence of the first boyfriend he'd ever had, and how romantic that was, I kept thinking about my own romances. My relationship with Finn had become familiar and comfortable. I looked at Quinn and pondered what this closeness of ours meant: newness, excitement, and uncertainty. The both ways were attractive, each with their own characteristics. And the competition would begin the next day. Something told me my life would be even more messed up than it already was. Would we survive nationals?
