Walking into school feels different this year. Before, she always felt like the HBIC, making everyone part ways for her as she walked down the hallway. No one dared to say anything or even look her in the eyes—they were too afraid.
But this year could be different. This time, she could be openly mocked. She could have fingers pointing in her direction as snickers are heard echoing through the hallway. She's vulnerable.
So, as she walks through the school entrance, clutching her new textbooks in her arms, she tries to keep the scowl in place and maintain her confidence. If she still holds herself to a high standard, maybe the rest of the school will, too?
She sees students lining the hallways, most busy opening their lockers, but a few watching her intently as she passes. Almost like they're waiting for her to crack again.
Not this year, she thinks.
She maintains her bravado until she reaches her locker, letting out a sigh of relief that she wasn't greeted with a slushie facial on her way. She puts in the familiar locker combination and organizes her books inside.
She examines herself in the small mirror hanging inside to make sure her appearance is in order. She has to look the part if she hopes to keep her spot at the top of the McKinley High social ladder.
"Santana!" She hears her name being called from down the hall, her eyes rolling at the recognizable voice.
She turns to her left to see Quinn bounding down the hallway towards her. Of course, the students cower in her presence like they always have…Santana'd be lying if she said she wasn't just a little envious of it.
Or a lot envious of it.
Quinn's the co-captain of the Cheerios—the school's star cheerleading team—alongside Santana. They've been joined at the hip since freshman tryouts, and everyone knows them as the school's power duo.
Even though they're supposedly best friends, Santana would never say she was as close to Quinn as everyone thought—and she's sure Quinn would say the same. However, both girls know that they're more powerful together.
Sure, individually, they're pretty enough and have enough attitude to be plenty popular on their own…but together, they are almost unstoppable. So, they choose to keep up the act for the sake of popularity.
"Hey, Quinn," Santana greets. She ensures to keep her voice still despite the nerves coursing through her veins at the start of this new year.
"So…Puck's having his back-to-school party tonight. You coming?" Quinn asks, getting straight to the point when she reaches Santana's locker.
Santana uses every ounce of willpower to refrain from rolling her eyes. Instead, she continues to hold a straight face while Quinn looks at her expectantly.
To be honest, she really doesn't want to go to Puck's party tonight. In fact, she could probably think of a million things she'd rather do instead. Spending the night in a house full of loud music and sweaty bodies doesn't sound too appealing.
"I don't know," she says, turning back to her locker to fish out supplies for her first class.
Quinn's jaw goes slack as she stares daggers into the side of Santana's head. "What do you mean you don't know?" she asks, her voice filled with snark. "When I asked, I wasn't really asking…it was more of me telling you that we're going to go."
"And what if I don't want to." Santana raises her eyebrow, challenging the blonde standing next to her.
Quinn lets out a bitter chuckle. "It's not like you have a choice."
"You heard what I said, Quinn." Santana slings her backpack over her shoulder, slamming her locker shut, and starts walking down the hall toward her first period.
She can hear the blonde scoff behind her, followed by heavy footsteps practically chasing her down the hall.
"Do you not realize the impact that'll have?" Quinn asks, talking to the back of Santana's head. "You really think skipping the party's going to help your already tarnished reputation? You should be glad you're still invited!"
Santana stops dead in her tracks, forcing the blonde to slightly collide with her body at the sudden change in position. She can feel the red, hot anger rising slowly through her body—making her head feel hot, and her fingers shake—as she turns around to face Quinn. Her eyes are narrowed, showing every ounce of fury in her stare.
"If I were you, I'd watch what you say next very carefully." Her voice is low, obviously intimidating Quinn—if her visible swallow is any indication. "Besides, my reputation's been through more makeovers than Berry's wardrobe, so I'm not worried about that," she lies. "You just want me to go because we're friends—or we pretend to be—so don't act like you're doing me any favors."
Santana cocks her head to the side in finality as Quinn furrows her brows, trying to regain her sass. She shakes her head with a huff before shoving past Santana and sashaying down the hallway.
Santana takes a deep breath to calm down…she doesn't want to walk into first period shaking with irritation.
Honestly, where does Quinn get the audacity? She knows what Santana went through last year. It almost makes Santana regret the agreement she made with her at the start of their high school careers. Maybe if she avoided this situation with Quinn, she could've made some real friends. But unfortunately, she has to persevere through her decisions, no matter how much she wishes she could change them.
She has the rest of the school year ahead of her—and she isn't expecting it to be easy or pleasant—but she just has to push through. She only has one year left until she can get the hell out of this town.
/
So far, the school day's gone by without any problems. She doesn't feel as confident in herself as she used to, but her outward appearance seems to be fooling everyone enough to believe she is.
Walking to lunch, she passes by the glee kids all huddled around a locker, probably gossiping about the newest Broadway drama in New York.
I never got their obsession with that city.
When she approaches, they take notice of her presence almost immediately. She notices how they all seem to shrink in on themselves, insecure, and prepare for whatever vicious words she's going to be hurdling towards them today.
And, yes, part of her wants to keep up with torturing them—only because it's one of her duties as the bitchy cheerleader—but the better part of herself decides not to. She remembers how it felt to be at the bottom…even if it was just for a day.
So, despite the little devil on her shoulder telling her to, she just looks down at the ground, not acknowledging their presence, and walks past them.
She can feel the quizzical stares on the back of her head, but it honestly makes her feel better than slashing them down would. She picks her head back up and continues walking to the lunchroom like nothing ever happened.
But right as she gets to the entrance, she hears the loud splatter of ice and syrup hitting the floor. For a second, she clenches her eyes, like she's the one to get hit.
After a moment, she peeks her left eye open and peers down the hall. She sees every member of the glee group drenched in red and blue slush. They're all wiping their eyes and gasping for air, shocked by the chill now running down their spine.
Santana's eyes soften despite how hard she tries to keep them stoic. Granted, she may have treated them like shit…but she never slushied them.
She never slushied anyone. Even before getting hit with one last year, she's always known throwing an ice-cold drink at someone's face is never right or fair.
Part of her wants to go over and ask if they're okay, but the high-fiving jocks standing ten feet away from them stop her. Karofsky and Azimio's taunting could probably be heard from outside of the building.
"Don't you Broadway freaks have somewhere to be? Just looking at you losers is hurting my eyes." Karofsky laughs and fist-bumps Azimio as they walk away toward the cafeteria.
Quickly, before they notice she's watching the exchange, she darts off towards the adjacent bathroom. She doesn't really want to go in the lunchroom anymore…she doesn't feel safe. Knowing the first slushie of the year—that she's seen, at least—happened so early doesn't settle her nerves.
Quinn's probably gonna be pissed that she's not there sitting at the Cheerios table, but she can suck it up.
Santana leans against the sink, observing her knuckles as they grip the porcelain, and plans to wait out in here until the end of lunch. She wasn't too hungry anyway. As she stares at the slight dripping of water from the faucet, she can't help but feel ashamed.
Am I being a coward?
She ponders the question for a moment, thinking about what the old Santana would do. There's no doubt that she would march her ass in that cafeteria, like she owns the place, and sit down with her "friends" at their usual table. She would laugh and make fun of the geeks of the school, try to trip JBI as he walked past with his camera buddy, and eye-flirt with one of the jocks sitting at the table next to them.
But…the old Santana isn't here anymore.
Everything's changed. She's no longer the head bitch of McKinley. Kids don't fear her as she walks down the hallway…or at least as much as they used to. She's still a Cheerio, but no one sees her as the same Santana.
She'll have to adjust to the new Santana, this new year, and all the new obstacles she'll have to go through. But it's the first day…no one said she had to get acclimated right away. She can take her time, right?
But how long will it take?
She's brought out of her thoughts by the bathroom door opening, followed by three girls and one guy walking in. She glances in the mirror and makes eye contact with them.
It's the glee kids.
They freeze still near the entrance, all drenched in blue and red syrup and staring at Santana in shock.
She looks back at herself in the mirror, wondering if she should break down and help them—since she knows they really didn't deserve it—or put her signature snarl on and walk out.
And for a second…she almost caves.
She almost wets paper towels and hands them to the innocent people standing there, staring at her. But she doesn't…and part of herself hates her for it. She already ignored them once today…she can't do it twice in the span of five minutes. It'll cause more suspicion and rumors. She's already on thin ice with the study body…she can't take any more hits.
She lets out a groan and rolls her eyes as she makes a usual snarky comment. "Well, well, look what misfits walked through the door today. Did you freaks get lost on your way to the circus?" She motions to their tye-dye, slushie-soaked clothes as she ushers past them and walks out of the bathroom.
Once she gets in the hallway, she immediately feels bad about what she said.
I've never felt bad about saying things to people…
She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts, and opts to go ahead to her last class.
Her last period is Spanish with Mr. Schuester, unfortunately, so his classroom door should already be open. He's usually in the guidance office flirting it up with Miss Pillsbury anyway, so she'll have some time to herself for the remainder of lunch.
As she walks to her locker to grab her Spanish book—not that she needs it—her attention is caught by something in the art room.
Or rather someone.
There's a blonde sitting at an easel, painting brush strokes over a canvas, with her attention locked on it. There's a slight furrow in her brow, and her tongue is poking ever so slightly out the corner of her mouth in focus.
Santana stands there, looking through the small window in the door, watching the girl paint stroke after stroke. She can't see the painting, but she finds herself extremely curious about what it looks like.
After a few moments, the blonde stops painting and leans back in her chair. She tilts her head to the side, admiring her work as a small smile graces her lips. She sets the pallet of colors and her brush down beside her, and as she looks up, she catches Santana's eye in the doorway.
The blonde gives Santana a shy smile and a tiny wave, effectively causing a blush to creep up the back of Santana's neck. She blinks a few times and jolts back into action as she quickly moves away from the art room.
What the hell was I doing? God, she must think I'm some type of creep or something.
She's watching her feet take step after step down the tiled floor as she continues walking down the hall. Luckily, she has the school memorized like the back of her hand, so she doesn't have to look up to find the classroom.
She makes quick work of grabbing her materials from her locker and walking to the Spanish room. When she enters and sees she's the only one there, a breath of relief escapes through her lips.
She plops down in her usual seat and lays her head on the desk. And, despite her efforts to not let her interaction with the blonde consume her thoughts, she finds herself wrapped up in them anyway.
/
"Santana?"
She's woken by a hand on her shoulder, slightly shaking her back and forth. She picks her head up off the desk and blinks her eyes a few times, ridding the blurriness from them.
She looks up to see Will Schuester standing above her, a soft smile on his face. She guesses she dozed off while waiting for lunch to end and class to begin.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
Santana nods her head, assuring the man she's fine, and sits back in her chair to stretch out her back. "Sorry…I guess I fell asleep for a minute."
"Are you tired? Are you getting enough sleep at night?" He takes a seat in front of her, turning the chair around so they're face-to-face.
His eyes show worry and sympathy, and Santana hates that. She appreciates when people care, but she doesn't need anyone looking out for her…she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
"Yes, Mr. Schue," she drawls out. "I was just bored waiting for lunch to end." She raises her shoulder in a half-shrug before bending down to grab her materials for class.
Since he's back in his classroom, Santana assumes there's only a few more minutes until the bell rings.
"Alright, just checking." He smiles. "But how come you aren't sitting in the cafeteria?"
She pauses for a second in order to formulate a lie to tell him. She's obviously not gonna tell the truth and make herself even more vulnerable. Besides, Schuester and his big puppy dog eyes are going to want to talk about it, and Santana doesn't do that.
She doesn't talk about feelings.
"I was in the cafeteria. I just left early," she lies, refusing to make eye contact as she sets a notebook on her desk.
He lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head. "I know you weren't in there, Santana. Miss Pillsbury and I came to speak with you, and you were nowhere to be found."
She furrows her brows and looks up at the man. "Why were you looking for me?" She hopes that he doesn't say something about last year.
"Miss Pillsbury needed to speak with you about your academics. I was on my way to her office when I caught her in the hallway."
Go fucking figure.
Santana internally rolls her eyes—aside from the fact that they're so obviously crushing on each other—that she'll now have the guidance counselor breathing down her neck.
Just one more thing she has to avoid in this godforsaken school.
"What's wrong with my academics?" she asks, trying to get the information from him so she doesn't need to schedule an appointment with Miss Pillsbury. She knows that if she makes an appointment, it'll segway from talking about her grades to talking about her emotional state…and that's not happening.
"It's not my place to say." He gives her a sympathetic smile. "But I'll call her down and you can chat with her during class. I know you don't learn anything in here anyways," he says, standing up with a wink.
"Wait." She holds her hand up to stop him. He looks back at her expectantly, but she can't seem to find an excuse that'll stop him from making the phone call. "Nevermind," she sighs, defeated, as she crosses her arms over her chest.
She watches as he picks up the phone and talks into the speaker, sounding smitten. She's never been this aggravated with their love before, but now, she just wants to wipe the enamored gaze off his face.
/
"So, Santana," Miss Pillsbury greets with a smile as she pumps hand sanitizer into her hand three times. "Thank you for coming to talk to me."
Miss Pillsbury has a bright smile on her face, one that Santana doesn't have the capability of returning as she sits in a chair opposite her desk.
"Well, I didn't really have a choice," she says, watching as the guidance counselor starts to count how many times she rubs her hands together.
"That's okay." She waves dismissively, not bothered by Santana's comment. "I wanted to speak with you about your grades."
Santana nods, looking expectantly at the woman.
"Last year was…a bit rough," Miss Pillsbury says with a sad smile. "But—"
"Look, I'm really appreciative of you trying to help and everything," Santana interrupts, sitting up in her chair, "but I would really rather not talk about last year. It came and went, and I'd just like to keep it in the past."
Miss Pillsbury raises her hands in defense and shakes her head slightly, showing she understands. "We don't have to talk about last year if you don't want to, Santana."
"Thank you," Santana sighs in relief as she relaxes in her seat again. "So, my grades?"
"Yes." The guidance counselor nods, causing her neat red hair to bounce on her shoulders. "Last year—with everything that happened," she speaks carefully, "your GPA took a serious hit."
Santana furrows her brows in confusion as she listens to Miss Pillsbury. She knows her grades weren't the best they could be, but she still passed her junior year.
What is she talking about?
"Well, I'm afraid you've fallen behind in the necessary credits needed to graduate high school," she explains.
Santana shoots straight up in her chair, confused and in shock. There's no way she doesn't have enough credits. She passed all her classes last year…right?
"That doesn't make any sense…I passed last year. I moved from a junior to a senior," she points out with a shake of her head.
"Yes, but that was on a technicality," Miss Pillsbury states. When she sees the crease in Santana's brow get deeper, she continues. "You scored high enough on your SAT to satisfy the English requirement that allows you to move on to the next grade. However, you did not pass your English class, therefore making you one credit shy for graduation."
"I-is there any way I can make that up?" Santana stammers out, really hoping there are other options available. The last thing she wants is to have to go home and explain to her parents that she's not going to graduate on time.
Miss Pillsbury smiles, and Santana instantly relaxes. There would obviously be some type of redemption, right?
I'll do it, she tells herself. No matter what it is.
"You can join the glee club." Miss Pillsbury grins and holds her hands out to the side, thinking of this as an exciting opportunity.
Santana's face immediately falls. Her spot at the top of the McKinley High food chain was already in jeopardy, but now…she doesn't stand a chance at keeping her position.
Her reign at McKinley will be over the second she steps foot in that choir room.
"I-I can't join the glee club!" she says exasperatedly. "Do you know how fragile my image is at this school right now? Joining the glee club's just going to make it ten times worse!"
"Well, Santana." Miss Pillsbury folds her arms on top of her desk and leans forward. "You have to ask yourself what's more important here…graduating or being popular."
Santana swallows. She knows the woman has a point, but does she not see how much harder this could make Santana's life?
"Why is the glee club even an option?" she asks, curious as to how that's her only shot at grade redemption.
"Because, technically, it's a class. They occasionally meet during the school day during a free period and complete assignments weekly," she says simply. "Besides, I think it'd be good for you to expand a little…join some extracurriculars."
"I'm on the Cheerios," Santana deadpans.
"Yes, well, I meant extracurriculars that aren't under the tyranny of Sue Sylvester," the guidance counselor responds, an obvious edge to her voice at the mention of Coach Sue.
Santana stays quiet for a moment, letting the information sink in. When she realizes this isn't a dream and she has to join the glee club, she sinks down in her chair in defeat.
"There's no other way around this?" she attempts one last time.
Miss Pillsbury shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Santana. You'll get a credit for being a part of glee, so it's the only way to make up the last one needed before graduation."
Santana sighs, dreading the year ahead even more so now.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Miss Pillsbury tries to cheer her up.
It doesn't work.
"When's the first meeting?" she asks.
Miss Pillsbury looks at the clock behind Santana before replying. "Half an hour," she says chirpily. "They're meeting after school today since it's the first day."
Santana stands from her seat and slings her backpack over her shoulder. She doesn't have Cheerios practice today since Coach Sue made them come in at an ungodly hour for drills this morning, so she has no choice but to attend.
"Thanks, Miss Pillsbury," she says sadly as she grabs the door handle, swinging the door open and stepping into the hallway.
It's evident in her tone that she isn't the least bit grateful, but she has to be polite.
Since there are only fifteen minutes left of class, she heads to her locker instead of returning to the Spanish classroom. When she reaches it, she hangs her backpack on the hook inside and stares at her reflection in the small mirror again.
This year's already turned to shit, and it's barely even started yet.
I hope you enjoy the new story! The next chapter should be up fairly soon, so be on the lookout!
Reviews are greatly appreciated, if you feel inclined to do so!
:) - denelle_lee
