"Those girls have you on a pedestal. Don't ruin that."
Sue observed silently as her former Head Cheerleader paced around her office, adorned with photos capturing triumphant moments of cheerleading glory and shelves proudly displaying the gleaming trophies the squad had amassed over the years.
As Sabrina's gaze lingered on the snapshots of smiling cheerleaders frozen in time, her disapproval and discontent simmered palpably.
"I never cared about people's opinions," she finally broke the tense silence, her voice a mix of frustration and incredulity, "I could care less about some fifteen-year-old girl's opinion." She continued, her tone carrying the weight of disdain. "Fifteen-year-old girls who, by the way, are part of the Cheerios and who have fun ordering other students to be slushied and dumpster dived. What, and I can't stress this enough, the actual fuck."
The cheer coach in her signature tracksuit, sighed audibly accustomed to Sabrina's forthrightness. "Without proof, I can't do anything and you know it," she replied, her tone edged with a weary resignation.
"That's a shitty excuse, Sue." The former cheerleader shot back, her frustration escalating. She slammed her hands on the desk in front of her, the echo of the impact reverberating in the room. "You know damn well that's a I was a student here, a complaint was enough for what had happened to be investigated." She shot a disdainful glance at the photographs on the wall, as if challenging the nostalgia that surrounded them. "When I was Head Cheerleader here, neither the Cheerios nor the football players used their popularity to humiliate others publicly. What the hell happened here, huh?"
The coach rose from her chair, the creaking sound breaking the stillness of the room. Sue massaged her temples, feeling the weight of the accusations against her new protege. "Fabray happened, okay?" But she…She's a good girl, Sabrina."
"Well, your good girl had Isaac slushied this morning by one of her lackeys, you know? If you wanted your new Head Cheerio to be a huge bitch and a bully, you've achieved it. Congratulations."
The younger blonde's demeanor exuded an unmistakable blend of contempt and bitterness, each word dripping with a disdainful elegance that seemed at odds with her usual polite nature. Throughout her years at McKinley, Sabrina had been the epitome of a courteous and diligent student, earning a reputation as a kind and approachable girl.
Even as a cheerleader, she managed to transcend stereotypes, forming genuine connections with everyone—a quality that undoubtedly contributed to her widespread popularity. However, when provoked, her normally sweet disposition gave way to a viperous tongue that sliced through the air like a razor, it was this rare display of verbal ferocity that had initially drawn Sue's attention.
A resounding knock echoed through the room, abruptly diverting their attention. The atmosphere shifted as Quinn, Santana, and Brittany made their entrance, crossing the threshold with a hint of uncertainty. Seating themselves in the chairs positioned before Sue's desk, they awaited further instructions.
A sly smirk played on Sabrina's lips as she checked the time on her wristwatch, her demeanor exuding a sense of calculated amusement. Leaning casually against the desk, her back facing Sue, she acknowledged the trio, "Ladies, just in time." Her tone held a subtle note of superiority. "I'm waiting for someone to bring me something, and then we can start. Make yourselves comfortable."
The trio exchanged uneasy glances, their discomfort magnified by their coach's deliberate disregard. The air hung with an expectant tension as they fidgeted, uncertain of how to navigate the unfamiliar terrain. A second set of knocks reverberated, breaking the silence and prompting Sabrina to stride purposefully toward the door.
She swung it open, revealing the person who had interrupted their moment—Puck. "Thanks, Puck. You're a sweetheart."
"Puck?" Santana mouthed silently at her captain, her eyes widening with disbelief. Quinn, equally puzzled, observed the unfolding scene. Sabrina took possession of whatever Puck had brought and as she closed the door, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. With a casual yet deliberate approach, she exposed the concealed treasure the mohawked boy had bestowed upon her—a slushy. Bringing the cup to her lips, she took a leisurely sip from the Big Gulp.
"This is good; we didn't have slushies like these back in the day. Your advancements in some areas, and regressions in others, truly fascinate me, ladies" The words dripped with false sympathy, her voice adopting a saccharine sweetness that seemed almost too deliberate.
A moment of awkward tension lingered in the air, thickening as the former cheerleader continued her observation. "Anyway, let's get to the point. Miss Fabray. I understand you're the new Head Cheerio, right?"
"I,uh…Yes."
"You like the position, don't you? You enjoy the lingering gazes in the hallways, the recognition that follows you like a shadow," A predatory smile curled Sabrina's lips as she continued her interrogation, her tone dripping with insinuation. She leaned in, narrowing the distance between them, fixing her penetrating gaze on the new appointed captain. Her questions, like poisoned darts, found their mark, penetrating Quinn's composure.
"Look, it's Quinn Fabray, future Prom Queen. You like that, don't you? People bowing down to you, kissing the ground you walk on?
Caught off guard, Quinn struggled to find her words. Her gaze darted nervously between Sabrina and her friends, Santana and Brittany. "What's this all about?" she managed to interject, attempting to regain control of the conversation as a faint frown marred her features.
"This is me showing you that if you want to be a huge bitch, I can be an even bigger one," the blonde woman declared, brown eyes, once laced with false sympathy, now bore into Quinn with an intensity that mirrored the weight of her words."I used to be the Head Bitch In Charge, Quinn. I know what this is all about. So, welcome to the bottom of McKinley's social hierarchy. You asked for it."
Sabrina's gaze shifted to her former coach, who, with a resigned sigh, rose from her chair and handed the trio a sheet of paper.
"No, uh. I'm not joining this group of losers. No me gusta."
"I think I haven't made myself clear, this is not a suggestion, Miss Lopez." A cruel laughter escaped Sabrina, echoing in the room as she watched the cheerleader's faces fall. The air crackled with tension as the former cheerleader reveled in her newfound authority. "Mr. Schue will be happy to know that today he's gained five new members willing to give their all for his glee club. I can't wait to see you all compete in Regionals. I'll even buy front-row seats."
Quinn's frown deepened as she scrutinized the sheet of paper, then shifted her gaze to Sue with an expression of disbelief. "Wait, aren't you going to say anything, Coach? You hate Mr. Schue and the Glee club."
"I have another question." Amid the tension, Brittany, ever the curious one, interjected "There are only three of us, and you mentioned 'five new members.' Who are the other two?"
"Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman. Imagine my surprise and concern when my daughter calls me, telling me that my son has been bathed from head to toe with slushies, much like this one here. All because he got between those Neanderthals and a boy they were planning to throw into a dumpster. So, I gave the boys two options: either their mothers found out about the incident through a complaint from me, or they joined the glee club. You can imagine which option they chose."
"And what is our fault in this?" the Latina questioned, her voice laced with skepticism as she raised an eyebrow.
"Actually, you have Finn to thank for that. He was quite explicit when Puck disclosed that they were merely following orders from the Unholy Trinity. Who commands is as guilty as who executes the command, don't you agree?"
The former cheerleader's brown eyes bore into each member of the Unholy Trinity, her demeanor unyielding. "If you don't sign that paper," she continued, her voice holding a veiled threat, "I plan to file a complaint. I will uncover every student you have tormented in this high school, and then you will find yourselves in serious trouble. Am I clear?"
Sabrina's confident stance and unwavering gaze left no room for negotiation."So, what do you say, ladies? Are you ready to dance and sing to your heart's content?"
A low growl rumbled under Santana's breath as she begrudgingly scribbled her signature on the sheet, "It's not like you're giving us another choice," she muttered, a hint of defiance lingering in her words. "Can we go now?"
The woman nodded and the trio swiftly rose from their seats, a collective eagerness to leave the office palpable. As they approached the door, Quinn hesitated, her curiosity overpowering her.
"Your son. Who is he? There's no one enrolled at McKinley this year named Taylor."
Sabrina carefully observed the blonde cheerleader that held his son's attention. "So she pays attention," she mused silently, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. "Maybe I underestimated her."
"You know him. It's Isaac."
Recognition flashed across Quinn's face, her features softening briefly before an unexpected emotion took hold. The green eyes that met Sabrina's held not just recognition but also a flicker of guilt, regret, and an unmistakable undercurrent of pain.
"It goes without saying that I hope not to see you, your two friends, your boyfriend, or his friend near my children. Especially around Isaac."
"Dang, Kurt," Mercedes marveled, her gaze lingering on the elegant lines of the Mercedes coupe as she emerged with graceful poise. The sunlit afternoon played on the vehicle's glossy surface, accentuating its flawless design. "This car is fly."
"My dad surprised me with this beauty for my sweet 16, right after I promised to retire those knee-length, form-fitting sweaters. What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Kurt declared proudly, a contented smile curving on his lips. The car's alarm chirped, confirming its secured state.
"Are we even sure they're rehearsing today?" Quinn eyed the imposing entrance of Carmel High with skepticism.
"Vocal Adrenaline rehearses every day from 2:30 until midnight," Rachel chimed in, her excitement infectious as she approached the imposing entrance.
Mercedes fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, her eyes darting nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings of the parking lot."I'm just so nervous these Vocal Adrenaline kids. What if they laugh at us? They're so effortlessly cool and popular, and here we are looking like we just hopped off the short bus."
The air was filled with the distant hum of an approaching engine, an unmistakable sound that put the group on alert. As they turned to see the source of the noise, a sleek black Audi glided smoothly into the parking space in front of the door. The engine purred to a stop, and the door swung open, revealing a fairly tall boy clad in a black leather jacket and stylish green cargo pants. Completing his ensemble was a blue cap perched casually on his head and a pair of gray headphones that clung to his ears. He walked with an air of nonchalance, fingers absentmindedly tapping on his cellphone screen as he strolled in the same direction as the group.
"Okay, hottie alert," Mercedes exclaimed, her eyes fixed on the newcomer.
"It's Isaac," Kurt mentioned, taking the lead as he moved ahead of the group. With purpose, he approached the boy, calling out, "ISAAC!"
The boy swiveled around at the sound of his name. He smoothly removed his headphones, revealing a grin that stretched from ear to ear as soon as he spotted Kurt. With open arms, he greeted his friend, "Hey, what are you doing here? Isn't this a little far from McKinley?" he added, genuine curiosity danced in his eyes.
"We're on the lookout for Dakota Stanley."
Rachel, brimming with an infectious enthusiasm that seemed to radiate from her, took a step forward, her eyes filled with determination. Her words tumbled out in a rush, a cascade of eagerness that momentarily overwhelmed the curly-haired teenager.
"Why in the world would you want to hire that monster?" Isaac asked with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, an arm casually draped around Kurt's shoulders. "Hey, guys." He said acknowledging the rest of the group.
"We need a choreographer," Mercedes interjected. "We want to compete at Sectionals, but our choreography is terrible. We've heard that Dakota is the best show choir choreographer in the Midwest."
"Guys, are you aware that Dakota charges $8,000 per number, plus a $10,000 bonus if you place in the top three? That's like a lot of money,"
Rachel's expression shifted from excitement to horror at the staggering cost laid out before them. Her face contorted into a mask of disbelief as she grappled with the financial reality. "How on earth are we going to come up with $8,000?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening.
"You could always organize a car wash. I'll rally the boys, and we'll gladly lend a hand if it means hiring Dakota," Isaac declared, exuding enthusiasm, as he glanced at Quinn and Santana. A subtle wink followed, eliciting a blush from the duo. "I'm pretty sure I can sweet-talk my Aunt Sue into getting McKinley's stunning cheerleaders on board as well."
A puzzled expression crossed his face as he noticed the stunned reactions. "Um, did I say something wrong? What's the matter?"
It was Santana who couldn't contain her shock, her exclamation slicing through the air, reverberating across the parking lot. "COACH SYLVESTER IS YOUR AUNT?" The incredulity in her tone was unmistakable. "SUE SYLVESTER, THE TRACKSUIT-WEARING DEVIL, IS YOUR FREAKING AUNT?"
"She's not my aunt in the biological sense, but we've known each other since I was little, so we just call her aunt. My mother was McKinley's Head Cheerleader back in the day, and she and Sue are very close friends."
"Hold on, what did you say your last name was?" Rachel interjected with curiosity, her brown eyes sparkling with intrigue.
Isaacrubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Shit, I haven't introduced myself. It's just that since I already know Santana, Quinn, and Kurt, I forgot," he apologized, cheeks tinged with a blush that added a charming vulnerability to his demeanor. "Isaac Hargrave, at your disposal, ladies."
"Mercedes Jones," the dark-skinned girl introduced herself.
"Rachel Barbara Berry," the Jewish girl chimed in, her eyes widening with recognition. "Wait, your mother is Sophia Collins, right? She was nominated for a Grammy for 'Song of the Year' for her song 'Saturday I'm In Love' from her only album '22'."
Quinn hissed. "Oh my god, Berry. Stalker, much?"
"Um, yeah," The boy confirmed shortly. Regaining his composure, he turned his attention to Kurt. "Anyway, Kurt, I hate to cut this short, but I've got to run. I'll catch you this Sunday, right? We're having Mom's famous lasagna, and then Ash and Dad can help you with your football thing. I'd lend a hand, but I'm more of an ice hockey guy, you know."
Isaac leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of Kurt's head. With a confident yet easy going demeanor, he addressed the rest of the group. bidding farewell to the rest. "See you guys. If you need anything from me, just talk to Kurt. He'll shoot me a text with the details. Bye."
"Isn't he so cute?" Kurt mused wistfully, his eyes lingering on the retreating figure of his friend. "And his fashion sense? I find myself yearning to possess that effortless style."
"He's like a golden retriever in person," Mercedes added, her raised eyebrows reflecting a pleasant surprise. "Does he have a girlfriend? He has to. He's a catch."
"He doesn't. Although, there's a girl he seems to fancy. But beyond that, I'm in the dark."
"And on top of that, he sings," Rachel chimed in, excitement bubbling as she eagerly pulled out her cell phone to showcase a video. "He has a lot of followers. Look."
"Okay, Rachel. Relax," Kurt interjected, a slight frown forming on his face as he recalled the recent encounter. "What was going through your mind when you asked him about his mother? I'll tell you, nothing. That was insensitive of you."
"What? Why?"
"Isaac lost his memory after his parents' accident. There are things he still doesn't remember about them, and although Isaac doesn't say it out loud, it's frustrating and sad not to remember details of your own parents."
"Wait, Hummel, "Quinn interjected, her voice rising in pitch as she fought back tears, "When you say he lost his memory, to what extent are we talking?"
"Sabrina, Isaac's godmother, or well, his mother, told me that Isaac lost all his memory after the accident. He didn't remember anything, and to this day, he continues to see his therapist because he still has some minor gaps. But now he's fine. Why?"
The sudden revelation hit her like a tidal wave. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and a rush of emotions surged within her. Isaac didn't remember her. It wasn't because he was pretending or because he didn't recognize her after her blonde dye and weight loss.
He had completely lost his memory.
She felt a lump forming in her throat, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. She had been harboring resentment toward the boy she once loved for the past four years, believing he had chosen to abandon Fairbrook and their friendship. Now, the truth was laid bare – Isaac hadn't returned because he didn't remember, not because he had willingly abandoned her.
Somewhere in Isaac's mind Lucy existed and Quinn wasn't sure if she was ready for him to remember her.