"Are you done with that?"
Santana's attention is brought to her left side with a constant poking on her left shoulder. "What?" she bites, glaring.
Puckerman points to her half-eaten sandwich on the table, licking his lips in clear anticipation, waiting for her to answer him. She sighs and waves her hand dismissively, letting him have it, deciding it'd be a good way to keep him out of her hair for a while.
"What were you saying?" she asks Tina, who was interrupted mid-sentence by Puck's antics.
"I was just talking about The Muckraker. The first month of the new semester isn't even over yet, and copies are flying off the shelves."
"Damn," she leans back in her seat, "there's already that much gossip?"
Tina rolls her eyes and packs away the remaining pieces of her lunch. "You know that's not what the newspaper's for, Santana," she scolds. "We don't gossip—we deliver news to students about events happening in the community."
"Oh, yeah, 'cause Danny Armstead's disaster of a science project was a community event," Santana snorts.
Tina folds her hands atop each other on the table, holding her chin high. "Hey, students needed to know which hallways to avoid to prevent future breathing problems." Santana rolls her eyes affectionately, shaking her head in amusement. "But, right now, everyone's fretting over The Axel."
Santana sits up and snaps her head to look at Tina. "The Axel?" she asks, eyes wide in alarm. "What about The Axel?"
Tina looks at her as if she's grown another head, furrowing her brows in apprehension. "What do you mean?" she asks, leaning back slightly in her chair, away from Santana.
"The Axel. What about The Axel?" Santana repeats, still on edge.
Tina turns her head slightly to look at the rest of the table, seeing everyone else immersed in their own conversations, unaware of Santana's questioning behavior. "It's coming to Columbus…" she says, trailing off uncertainly.
"What?!" Santana shouts, standing up abruptly, garnering the attention of most people in their proximity.
Tina grabs her shoulder and yanks her back down, staring at her quizzically. "Did you not know?" she asks. When Santana shakes her head, her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. "It's been announced for like three months…how have you not heard about it?"
Santana shrugs, shaking her head, flustered. "Do you know anything else? When is it? Do we qualify?" Santana reaches forward to pat Tina's hand repeatedly in excitement.
"God, calm down," Tina chuckles, grabbing Santana's hand to still her movements. "It's in three months."
Santana pulls out her phone quickly, typing the date into her calendar. "Great. That gives me enough time to get used to the new bike and prepare to kick some ass at the competition."
Tina smirks at her friend, letting her do whatever she needs to do to get the excitement out of her system. Santana types the competition into her search browser, wanting to save the flyer to her gallery to show to her mother when she gets home.
But, remembering her mother, Santana stills her fingers on the keyboard, her shoulders deflating in defeat. There's no way her mother's gonna let her compete in a competition this big—and away from home at that—without her—
"Santana?" She snaps out of her thoughts as Tina calls her name, looking at her with her eyes narrowed in worry. "What's wrong? Your attitude just totally shifted."
Santana stares back down at her phone for a moment more, looking at the bright green flyer that just popped up. "It's nothing," she replies, turning the phone screen off before stuffing it back in her pocket. She gathers her trash together, standing from the table. "I'll see you later," she says, trying to give Tina a genuine smile, but Tina knows her well enough to see it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
She opens her mouth to say something, but Santana turns and walks away before she gets a chance.
/
When she gets home, Santana frees herself from her school clothes, changing into pajama shorts and a comfortable tee, before heading downstairs for an afternoon snack. She has a little bit of homework she has to do but can't find the motivation to sit down and do it.
As she searches the pantry, her thoughts keep flickering back to The Axel. She wants to race so bad…and she knows her friends expect her to. But there's just no way she can convince her mother to let her compete.
Maribel's been extremely protective of Santana and her sport for as long as she can remember. The only reason she ever let Santana compete in motocross was because she knew Santana's father was an avid lover of the sport. But now, it's just them—and Maribel won't let Santana do anything she deems too dangerous.
Going to the track is fine. Going on leisurely rides is fine. But, when it comes to competitions, the environment completely changes. Things become high stakes; there's adrenaline rushing through every racer. They're all there to win, and Santana's seen some racers do less than sportsmanlike things to get to the top.
After finishing her snack, she plops down on the couch and wallows in the soft cushions below her back. She stares up at the ceiling contemplatively, silently considering her chances of convincing her mother to let her compete. It's only a few minutes before she gets discouraged, knowing good and well there's very little she can do to change her mother's mind.
She reaches over to grab the remote off the coffee table, content with watching whatever's playing on the Disney channel to take her mind off the subject. The more she thinks about it, the more discouraged she's gonna get.
And this is her senior year…it shouldn't be filled with disappointment. She's just going to find the joy where she can. Whether that be an old Disney show, simply spending time with her friends, or even just practicing on the track for no rhyme or reason, she'll do what she needs to do to keep her spirits up.
She's woken a few hours later by soft fingers moving up and down her cheeks. She squints up, trying her best to block out the light, at her mother as she looks down at Santana with a soft, loving smile.
"Hey," Maribel whispers. "Dinner's ready if you're hungry."
Santana nods, raising her hand to wipe the sleep out of her eyes as she stifles a yawn. "How long have you been home?" She slowly moves into a sitting position, using her arms as a brace behind her.
"Maybe an hour," Maribel replies, now moving her hand to tame Santana's hair, which is frizzed out from how she was lying. "I made spaghetti."
"Thanks," Santana smiles. She looks down at her lap to see the couch's throw blanket carefully draped over her legs. Her mother must've covered her up when she got home. She fiddles with its frayed edges for a moment as they sit in silence. "I'll be there in a minute."
Maribel kisses her forehead quickly before standing, leaving Santana alone in the room. Santana lays back down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as she just begins to smell the garlic and tomato wafting in from the kitchen. Her stomach starts to growl at the smell, and she realizes that she really hasn't eaten much all day.
Reluctantly, she stands from the couch and folds the blanket previously covering her. She places it on the back of the couch, fluffing the pillows she was lying on, before trudging to the kitchen.
When she gets to the kitchen, she sees her mother leaning over the kitchen island, glasses on and newspaper in hand. She's staring intently at whatever she's reading, and Santana pauses in the doorway so as not to disturb her.
Maribel stays in the same position for a few moments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and continues reading. Santana leans against the threshold, making her presence known but not announcing it. She's giving her mother all the time she needs since she seems engrossed in whatever's on the paper.
Maribel eventually sets the paper down, startled when she sees Santana silently standing in the doorway. "Goodness, Santana," she says, placing her hand over her heart dramatically. "You scared me."
"Sorry," she mutters, pushing herself off the wall to walk further into the kitchen. She wordlessly moves to grab two plates and cups from the cupboard, sliding one to her mother as she passes the island.
After preparing her plate and drink, she moves to the small table in the corner of the kitchen, watching as her mother busies herself in doing the same. Santana swirls her fork around in the pasta, not bringing it to her mouth but just twirling the food around and around.
"Don't play with your food, Santana," Maribel scolds, sitting in the chair opposite her. "Diego does it enough…don't be a bad example."
Santana rolls her eyes at the mention of her younger cousin, internally groaning at the thought of his family visiting this weekend. "He's not even here," she argues.
Maribel looks at her pointedly, raising her eyebrows in warning. "Don't make it a habit," she says, sprinkling salt and pepper on top of her food.
Santana looks down at her plate, defeated, and rests her head in her hand sitting atop the table. She can see her mother eating out of the corner of her eye, and she's curious about what could've been in the paper that kept her attention for so long. But asking her could lead to two very different circumstances—she could either answer Santana truthfully or scold her for being nosey.
She's done the latter plenty throughout Santana's life.
But, deciding to just go for it, Santana takes a sip of water and clears her throat before calling, "Mami?" When Maribel glances up at Santana, showing she's listening, Santana continues. "Can I ask you something?"
Santana tenses as her mother closes her eyes and stills her movements, staying completely still as she lets out a long sigh. When she reopens them, she gives Santana a small smile, but Santana doesn't know if she should be reassured or not. "Of course, Mija."
"Um," Santana starts, nervously fiddling with the fork in her hand, "what, uh, what were you reading earlier?"
Maribel tilts her head to the side and pinches her brows in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asks, looking directly at Santana.
Santana can feel her stomach bottom out as nerves flood her system. "The newspaper," she answers.
Maribel's face softens, and she nods in realization. She picks up her napkin from the table and wipes her face before wrinkling it between her hands and playing with the corners. "There's this…" she trails off, shrugging her shoulders as she keeps her gaze down at the crinkled napkin, "competition…coming to Columbus in May." She tosses the napkin aside and folds her hands on the table, finally looking up at Santana with her lips pulled thin, a small smile in place.
Santana purses her lips and mutters a small "Oh" in response, not really knowing what else to say. So, her mother knows about the competition…and she was reading intently about it. Santana tries not to read too much into it, but her new rapid heartbeat is hard to ignore.
"But you're already aware of it, aren't you?" she asks.
Santana remains staring at her for a moment longer, only remembering to blink when she starts to feel a slight burn in her eyes, and nods her head slowly. "Um…can I —?" she trails off, waving her hand. She knows Maribel understands what she's asking.
Maribel sighs and glances at Santana once more before gathering her dinner utensils and standing from the table. "Are you finished?" she asks, pointing to Santana's plate. When Santana doesn't respond, instead narrowing her eyes at her mother, Maribel just turns and wordlessly walks away.