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SPOILERS: Every episode of Glee.
Who Do You Think You Are?
from the ice inside your soul
The rest of the day I walk around like a zombie. Seeing Rachel in our fourth period class makes me feel like I ate the burrito surprise during lunch. There's no escaping this feeling and I'm close to being as melodramatic as possible in thinking that death is definitely a viable option in comparison.
The hallways are clear, at the very least, as I leave mathand Rachelusing the need to see the school nurse as an excuse. I do feel sick, just not of the virus-like variety.
I want to go home. I don't want to have to go to Glee practice, or jump around with the Cheerios. I just want to drive to my house, put on some comfortable sweats, and pass out listening to Adele. No more Rachel, no more school, no more outside world. There's too much pressure and too many emotions that are getting to me right now.
Replaying what happened earlier as I reach the bathroom door, I feel the bile rising up in my throat and grab the garbage, wrenching up Sylvester's entire "health shake" that I had for lunch. Not a pretty sight. I wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand and go to the sink to gargle some water.
All I can hear is her voice, strangled, yet saying my name. Begging me to stop hurting her. That voice is so powerful. I can stop hurting her, even if it means it'll hurt me more.
And it's for the best that she's rejected me. Really, it is.
I cannot go back to high school exile. Even though this feeling definitely makes being banished from popularity seem like a small needle prick, I can't do it. It took too long to achieve my status again, and even love won't make me give that up.
Seriously, Fabray? You love Rachel Berry? I laugh at the thought, though it comes out a bit high-pitched and panicked sounding.
The silence of the empty restroom envelopes me, driving me crazy yet comforting me simultaneously, and the uneasiness of that word makes everything I'm feeling ten times worse.
You you can't be in love
Standing like a statue in the middle of the tile, I try to defy my thoughts.
"No, no, no. You're not in love with Rachel Berry." My voice echoes against the cold surfaces.
Great, I've started talking to myself.
"Of course you are, Q." Hearing that voice stops my ranting.
The stall door slams open, banging against the wall, and there's Santana Lopez, in all her uniformed glory.
"Been that way since 5th grade. Nice of you to catch up with the rest of the class."
I narrow my eyes threateningly and take a stance, trying to see if she's looking to start something.
"Santana " My voice has gone low; I can hear it. I hope it's giving off some kind of attitude so Lopez takes me seriously. "How long have you been in there?
"Oh, ease up!" She notices the anger I'm sending toward her and waves me off as if I'm some toddlerin other words, Finnthrowing a tantrum.
"It's not like you could take me anyway," says Santana, as she saunters over to the mirrors, pulling out a tiny tube of gloss.
"Santana " I feel frustration taking over every part of me.
"What are you doing in here??" Feeling flustered, annoyed, and so many other emotions of that genre, Santana's taunting tops my already horrible mood and I can hear it in my voice; the whining.
She turns to face me and gives a glare that only Santana can, smirking in her confident way, of course.
"Helpin' your ass get your head on straight and get the girl, what else?"
"I don't want"
"Oh shut up, I know you do. I know you, Q." She looks at me more sincerely, but just barely. Only in a way that I would know that she's being honest.
I sigh, feeling defeated knowing that she understands and isn't judging me.
It's not like she could, I mean, she and Brittany have been madly in love since they were four.
"Alright, fine Santana, you win. I want to 'get the girl'" I look at her, using air-quotes.
"That we both know, but she's made it abundantly clear--" looking at her, I try to use those rare moments of sincerity between the two of us, "that she does not want me to chase after her. So this conversation, this whole subject, should probably just end here, okay."
I end my statement with conclusiveness in my tone, hoping that Santana hears what I'm trying to say and drops the whole thing. I don't have the strength to fight about this anymore.
Walking away I notice her stature change and ease a little, so I try to help her understand more clearly, even with my back turned. "I need to stay away from Rachel; it's what she wants."
Nearly to the door I resign myself to the fact that this is how it's going to be when I hear a sound from behind me.
Sighing, I turn around.
"Santana," I try to even out my voice, even though I know my annoyance is clearly showing. "Are you trying to say otherwise?"
"Hell yes! That midget's been pinin' over you since before I can remember!"
"Don't call her that!"
"Oooo, did I touch a nerve?" She steps a little closer, trying to make her point with proximity. "Good. You're going to need some type of emotion to fix the shit storm you've put yourself in."
"Santana who says I should?" I fold my arms over my chest and prepare for a huge argument. Lopez rarely likes to admit she's wrong. Like, ever.
"What?" For the first time since the conversation started, Santana looks confused.
"You heard me. Who says I should?"
Santana splutters, trying to think of a witty way to spin what I've just said into a constructive, yet slightly insulting, form of inspiration.
"Berry and I getting together would kill my social status at this school." I continue, attempting to get through to her. "I can't go back to being a loser in Lima. It's too pathetic."
She looks at me, suddenly all too aware of what I'm thinking and it makes me uncomfortable to have that much of myself revealed to Santana Lopez.
"Quinn," she pauses, probably for dramatic effect.
I roll my eyes as Santana grabs my hand.
"Do you forget that I already came out to the entire school with Brittany?? What in the hell makes you think you'll lose your social status?" She gives me a look of incredulity, like I've suddenly grown two heads or something.
"Look at us, Britts and I are on top of the food chain here. Obviously being a lesbian doesn't do much. And if you think that the girl you're macking on being Rachel Berry makes things any different, well then you're just being a stuck-up bitch."
Something clicked in my head just then. Maybe my whole body clicked, I'm not sure.
Thinking about it, maybe I was being stupid. Not that I'd ever admit that to Santana, but it's not like Rachel dating Finn had hurt his status at all. And since I'm the captain of the Cheerios it should basically be the same situation, right?
"Right," I say under my breath, but I think San's heard me anyway.
"Alright Santana," I say, clearing my throat and mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to do. "Let's do it."
"That's my girl." I smile at the genuine look she gives me.
"Okay, here I go " I'm obviously hesitant and freaking out slightly, but I have to tell Rachel. It's the only way to truly get what I want, for once.
"Wait, wait, wait wait!" Santana grabs my arm and pulls me back away from the door even as I nearly open it. "Where do you think you're going??"
Quirking an eyebrow, I look at her challengingly.
"To get the girl," I say. Hmm, seems like I really can't say that without using air-quotes.
"Ha! You think Berry's just gonna take you back, open arms after all the shit you've pulled?"
"How do you know what I've"
"I don't need to know anything," she gives me a glare, "besides the basic slushee facials."
Shrugging, I look down. I had to try.
"Oh, no, no--hell no." Santana takes up her "diva" stance.
"We needs to formulate a plan."
And with that, heads together in the girls bathroom, Santana and I began our plotting.
To Be Continued
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