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SPOILERS: Every episode of Glee.
Who Do You Think You Are?
By gidge
Part 5
Walking into school the next day, head held high but wary of slushees and rousing chants of "lesbian! lesbian!", I find it surprisingly quiet. Everyone is keeping to their own lockers as I make my way to mine.
Sorting through books, I find the ones I need. Maybe I should go to the glee room, try to practice some things before homeroom.
I decide this is the best course of action and head there, minding the people in the hallways and especially looking out for the Neanderthal, David Karofsky.
Getting closer, I hear music coming from the room. Wondering who would possibly be in there this early—it's probably Mr. Schue trying to rap again—I instantly cringe and turn the corner.
Peeking through the door, I see that it's not my glee coach at all, but Santana, singing Fleetwood Mac's Songbird to…to Brittany.
Wow. That's one of the most heartfelt things I've ever seen.
"And the songbirds
keep singing,
like they know the score…
And I love you, I love you, I love you,
like never before…"
Seeing it's a private moment, I back up out of the doorway. Heading instead toward the auditorium, I decide I could get some reading done. There's still ten minutes left before the beginning of classes and I do not feel like spending time with anyone in this school, anyway.
Well, that's not true either. I can think of one person I definitely want to spend more time with…No! No more pining for a lost cause.
Deciding that Quinn Fabray isn't worth the effort was hard to do, but after last night the realization that she would never reciprocate me hit hard. I laid in bed after I got home, crying, but thinking.
Steeling myself, I made a declaration to leave her alone, just as she wants. No more being kind to someone who could hurt me so easily, so badly. I can't take chances anymore, not when graduation's so close and I can finally leave here for New York. Life will be better then.
Berating myself and wiping the tears out of my eyes, I make my way through the halls. Turning the corner, someone runs into me and knocks my books everywhere.
The jock barely glances back. Seeing it's me, a look of disdain crosses his face. "Dyke," he says, spitting at me as I lean down to pick up my things.
Instantly, tears threaten to spill yet again. Not because of the abuse. That I'm used to, it's more the word used.
Great. I hope he thought of that all by himself and it wasn't orchestrated by a certain blonde bitch cheerleader…
Feeling anger build up toward Quinn for what seems like the millionth time today, I slam my books together and pick them up, continuing toward the auditorium.
Looking up, I see exactly the person I want to avoid leaning dangerously close to Finn Hudson at his locker. Quinn was running her index finger along the length of his chest, batting those perfect—stupid—eyelashes to coax a reaction from Finn.
Poor, easy, gullible Finn. Ugh, who cares? His brain capacity is the size of a pea, anyway.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
Thinking, I take a moment to make a list of attributes I dislike about Finn Hudson.
He never seems to want me—or anyone, really—unless someone else does…his thoughts are always about video games or food…his taste in music is atrocious…he forgot my birthday…he never seems to listen when I talk, never…Whenever I have an idea, he only likes it if everyone else does first…he's really only nice when he wants something…
What a dick.
Admitting that Finn was rather dim-witted shakes me from my stand-still in the middle of the—why is there no one here?—hallway, and begin my trek to the auditorium once more.
Glancing at them as I pass by, I see Finn lean down and kiss Quinn. She returns the embrace as I turn away as fast as possible, speeding up to almost running before launching myself into the bathroom on the corner. It's always deserted. I would go there every day to change out of my slushee-ridden clothes and clean myself up.
Now it is my sanctuary again as I feel the tears falling and my back slide down the length of the wall next to the door.
I know I shouldn't get this upset, but given the amount of emotions I've had to experience the past few days, I feel validated in my pathetic sobbing body nearly lying on the floor of the girls bathroom ten minutes before homeroom.
Hearing footsteps approach, I panic, run into a stall, and slam the door behind me as I hear the main door being opened.
"Rachel?"
My heart leaps to my throat. What is sh--?
"Rachel, are you in here?"
I see Quinn's feet make their way further into the room and stop right in front of the stall I'm currently hiding in.
"Open the door, Berry. I know you're in there."
Sitting on the tank of the toilet, I rest my feet on the edges of the seat and vow never to open that stall door until she is long gone.
"Go away, Quinn." I can hear the sternness coming through in my tone even though my voice is coated with the after effects of crying. Wiping my face, I stare determinedly at the door as though she can see through it.
In an even, unemotional voice, Quinn commands for the door to be opened once more. It sounds like her icy bitch tone is gone, though. Weird.
"No, Quinn. Go away." I hug myself tightly and sit, feeling like the lamest person in existence at the moment.
Five minutes of this and she'll get bored. Don't understand why she's in here in the first place…It's not like anyone would believe me if I told them we made out. Yeah, right. They'd see me as more of a freak.
"You don't have to worry about me outing you, Quinn." I say, listening for changes in her footsteps to indicate that she's moving to leave. "I wouldn't do that to someone. Not even you," I add the last part, just to let off some anger toward her for what she's put me through the last week.
Suddenly, I see both of her feet disappear and instead, hands and knees are touching the tile.
"I hope you're decent in there," she says, her voice muffled through the door. I see a blonde ponytail dance into view.
Apparently she's not above crawling underneath the stall to torture me. Lovely.