“She followed me around everywhere and stuff. At first I was all, ‘Ew. A kid.’ But then I was all, ‘I can make her do my bidding.’ ” Santana tousled her dark hair and blew a kiss at the crowd outside. “I’ve always wanted a tiny person pet.”
“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s child abuse.” Rachel hoped this story had a point. Listening to Santana was exhausting. But Kurt was rapt with attention.
“Is it? Whatever. Anyway, this kid Megan was always begging me to sing with her. She wanted the two of us to do a song about angels for her dad. I think it was about her dead mom or something. So I felt bad and did it and…”
“And then he turned out to be Peter Smithson, the famous record producer,” Kurt finished. “People are calling him the next David Foster.”
Rachel knew who he was. She’d read that Smithson had been responsible for fourteen number-one singles in the past year alone. Talk about luck.
“Even though my debut album, Saint Santana, just dropped and I’m planning a national tour, I had to make a little time to come back and steal your thunder. I just couldn’t resist!” Santana patted Rachel on the head. “Isn’t it cute that the fans call me Saint Santana? Peter thinks it’s because of all the charity work I do. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out sooner, but karma, like, totally works.”
Rachel was horrified. Santana was the last person on Earth who should be exalted for her attitude toward others. That was like praising Sue Sylvester for her fashion sense. It was absurd and unacceptable.
“This was fun, guys! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go brag about my newfound fame and fortune to anyone who will listen.” Santana strutted to the door.
Before leaving, she mouthed “call me” to Kurt as she held an invisible phone to her ear. She then yelled out, “Later, bitches!” much to the shock of Mrs. Goodrich, who’d fallen asleep at her desk. Mornings weren’t really her thing.
Rachel felt sick as she watched the students swarming Santana, asking for autographs and pictures. They looked way more excited than when they’d seen Rachel. This was a disaster.
“You knew about this?” Rachel shot at Kurt. He’d seemed a little too calm about the whole situation.
“Well, I do read the blogs, yes,” Kurt answered. “There were some rumors of a surprise Santana Lopez appearance. But honestly, I thought she’d be way too busy to bother! She must really want to show you up.”
Like that was any consolation. Whose side was he on anyway?
The happy, determined feeling Rachel had woken up with was quickly dissolving into misery. How had Santana managed to achieve everything that Rachel had worked her entire life for so fast? Karma was definitely not the greater force at work here. If it were, Santana would be getting ready to start a lifelong job at the Lima Freeze, not attending awards shows and glitzy music-industry parties. The cherry on top of this icy news was that the media were portraying Santana as a saint! Peter Smithson had probably coined the term himself as part of his grand plan to make her a star.
Kurt could see how upset Rachel was. “Don’t worry, Rach. People totally just think she’s Jennifer Lopez’s little sister. That’s why her album is doing so well on the charts.” It was nice of him to try to console Rachel. “If it makes you feel any better, she’s totally going to have to get butt implants if she wants to keep up the Lopez theory.”
It was all so ridiculous that Rachel had to laugh. The two of them were no longer students at McKinley High, yet here they were again, competing for the spotlight. Nothing ever changed.
“Forget about Santana,” Kurt said, standing up and reaching out to her. “Now, let’s go get your famous besties and put on a real Broadway-quality show.”
“Yes, let’s.” Rachel still hadn’t confronted Kurt about selling her out to Puck. She was waiting for the right time. Trouble was, there was never really a great opportunity to accuse someone of stabbing you in the back, especially when you needed them. She’d deal with that later. For now, she had to focus on winning. Because whether or not anyone else knew it, the rally had just become a competition. And Scary Berry didn’t lose. Especially not to anyone named Saint Santana. It was on.
fourteen
McKinley High gymnasium, before the rally, Thursday afternoon
All afternoon, throngs of people had been arriving at the school to stake out seats for the big show. Because none of the previous years’ rallies had ever been a community event, there was no precedent for what to do with all the extra bodies. The majority of the attendees were people who had caught yesterday’s edition of “Sue’s Corner.” Many were hoping to witness some sort of live Rachel Berry breakdown.
By noon, the gym was already packed to its full capacity, and the students hadn’t even been let out of their classes yet. Prinicipal Figgins had to call in the help of the boys’ varsity basketball team to scour the school for extra folding chairs. It didn’t help much. Usually whenever they were given a group task, three of them tried while the rest kept busy giving each other atomic wedgies.
If the local fire marshal were to drop in to the gym for a random inspection, he would definitely not approve. But with any luck, the only disaster that would befall the crowd at McKinley was the upcoming interpretative song-and-dance performance by Brittany Pierce’s bizarre Glee Club, New New Directions. They were an odd bunch. Not that anyone was thinking about them at the present moment.
A tidal wave of excitement had taken over the gym. One of the moms from the Cheerios Booster Club had announced to her friends that her daughter had seen Santana Lopez by the foreign language wing. The news spread like brushfire through the bleachers. Soon, everyone was buzzing about the possibility of a Rachel Berry/Santana Lopez sing-off.
Back in the choir room, the acts were warming up. A makeshift dressing room had been created using a hodgepodge design of ropes and curtains. It looked more like a child’s pillow fort than a greenroom fit for world-famous celebrities. But it was all the school had to offer.
The kids from New New Directions were busy getting into their weird-looking costumes. Rachel couldn’t figure out what they were supposed to be. Eggplants? Barney the Friendly Dinosaur? The getups involved foam structures over glittery purple spandex bodysuits. If you squinted a little, they kind of resembled giant starfish.
“I wish I could pull off leggings,” Brittany lamented, pinching the spandex with her fingers. Even though Brittany had chosen the outfits herself, she was having issues. “No, seriously. How do I get these off?”
When they first arrived, Brittany had proudly shown both Santana and Rachel to their own separate corners of the room. They each had a mirror propped up against the wall and a little stool. Rachel recognized them as the same ones used for school pictures every year. It was fancy digs.
“Sorry, Rachel. I’d stay, but I have to go get in a quick make-out session before we go onstage. It relaxes me,” Brittany said as she closed Rachel’s curtain, which was actually a William McKinley High fleece blanket clothespinned to a piece of twine. “Unless you want to come, too?” she said, peeping her blond head back in. Brittany didn’t want to be rude.
“Um, no, thanks,” Rachel said. “I have to warm up my vocal cords.”
“Your loss, I’m… awesome.” Brittany shrugged and walked away. Rachel wouldn’t be surprised if she was headed toward Santana’s area to accomplish her goal. The two of them had always been… close.
Rachel took in her reflection in the mirror. She looked absolutely amazing. She wore the sequined dress that she’d picked on the plane. Before Kurt had gone off to pick up Meredith and Carmine, he had helped her choose the perfect gold eye shadow to match. Combined with the wing-tip liquid liner she’d perfected, it made her eyes look big and bright. Her shiny, dark tresses were blown out to perfection, and her skin glowed. Absolutely gorgeous.
So why was she feeling so upset? She was about to go onstage (well, on court) and perform for hundreds of adoring fans. They’d shown up just to see her. It was everything she’d ev
er wanted. It didn’t really matter that Santana had it, too. The two of them were about as similar as a parachute and a chicken taco.
Just as an athlete must stretch before a big game or race, it was important for a singer to ease into her routine. Rachel began humming. It was her favorite way to get started. She started to go into a series of elaborate noises. Brrrrrr! she trilled.
But as great as the little dressing room was, it wasn’t soundproof. A group of Glee kids began to laugh at some unknown joke. Rachel could barely think in there with all the preshow activity, let alone get in a good warm-up. She had to get out of there. Fast.
She ran out into the hallway.
There was a janitor’s closet nearby where she might be able to snag a few quiet moments to herself before it was time to go on. Rachel looked down at the ground as she ran. It was a vain attempt at remaining anonymous to the stragglers heading toward the gym, as well as at keeping her balance in her strappy gold stilettos. She pivoted on the ball of her foot to turn the corner. Smack!
All of a sudden, Rachel found herself cradled in Finn’s strong arms.
“Rachel,” he said, holding her up. Her name on his lips sounded like butter. And being in his arms again was starting to make her melt. My goodness, his biceps had gotten big.
“Finn! Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just, uh… um…” Her brain began to resemble the static on the old television set she and her dads used to keep in the basement.
Finn smiled warmly. “You weren’t trying to leave again, were you? We just got you back.” His eyes sparkled. “Are you okay?”
Rachel realized she had just been staring at him and not saying anything.
“Oh, uh, yes! I’m great! Why wouldn’t I be?” She laughed nervously. Rachel couldn’t remember why they’d ever broken up. She couldn’t even remember how they’d broken up. Her heart sped up, and she started to break into a sweat. Good thing she’d just put on her extra-strength deodorant. She was also really glad that if she had to have an awkward meeting with an ex-boyfriend, this is what she was wearing while doing it. She couldn’t have planned a better reunion outfit. Well, she actually had only sort of planned it. Or rather, Kurt had.
“Well, you look great. I’m so happy for you! I mean… Broadway—wow! If anyone could do it, Rachel, it’s you.”
Finn was being so nice. He was always so nice.
There was a pureness in him that so many boys lacked. Santana had once called it his “Finnocence.” Rachel wouldn’t dare give her the satisfaction of telling her so, but she’d thought it was clever at the time.
“Thanks. You seem like you’re doing well, too,” Rachel said, steadying herself against a set of lockers. Ever since she had seen him with Quinn the other day, she hadn’t been able to shake the image from her mind. Especially that forehead kiss.
Finn ran his fingers through his hair. It was one of his flirting moves. “Yeah. Pretty much!” He laughed, but there was a nervous quality to it.
Maybe he still liked her a little! Rachel’s sweaty palms were proof that feelings didn’t just completely go away.
“What have you been up to this year?” Rachel knew she should be warming up her voice instead of conversing with Finn, but she didn’t want this to end.
“Well, I’ve been busy. You know, senior year and all that. And I’ve got Youth Group. After I worked with those awesome kids all summer at Mr. Schuester’s camp, I felt so good. I wanted to do more good stuff. So Quinn signed me up at her church. It’s awesome.”
Finn had a limited vocabulary, but he meant well.
“Hey, you should come!”
Rachel laughed uncomfortably. “Ah, no, thanks…. I’m Jewish, remember?” Finn had forgotten a major detail about her. Like she was some stranger. Ouch.
“Oh, right… of course you are.” Finn looked embarrassed. “Well, if you wanted, you could still come and help teach some of the kids a song. I bet they would love it. A big star singing with them! They’d think it was awesome.”
Rachel wanted to change the subject. She tore her eyes away from his face and let them drift to the large cross and the loopy quinn tattoos on his forearm. Seeing the ink on his skin made her feel queasy. “Tattoos, huh? That’s pretty permanent, Finn.”
“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?” Finn didn’t seem like he thought it was all that crazy. She’d never seen him look so secure. “Quinn and I are really happy now. I think we just both needed a little time apart to grow up.”
Rachel nodded in mock agreement.
“Well, you’d better get back to your warm-up,” Finn said. “Good luck out there! Can’t wait.” He squeezed her arm reassuringly and took off toward the gym. He had only taken a few steps when he turned around and looked back at her. “Hey, Rachel?”
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. Was he about to tell her he was still madly in love with her? She took a deep breath. “Yes?”
Finn’s words spilled out fast. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for trying to pressure you into changing your plans last summer. You were right after all. Everything has turned out exactly how it should.”
Rachel wasn’t really so sure about that anymore, but she didn’t protest.
“I know we didn’t leave things on the best note, but I hope we can be friends,” Finn continued. “Maybe I’ll see you later….” Then he continued on his merry way down to the gym.
Friends, huh? I really screwed that one up, Rachel thought. She didn’t even feel like warming up now.
Luckily, salvation came in the form of Kurt Hummel. He walked in, leading Meredith Stewart and Carmine Bennett. They looked fantastic for having just gotten off a plane. Their outfits were variations of Rachel’s own gold frock, employing both sequins and their own personal styles. Meredith wore a frilly gold skirt and white tank cinched together with a wide, black leather belt. Her black high heels elongated her supermodel legs. She was like a sexy giraffe. Carmine’s skinny black tie, designer jeans, and gold wing-tipped shoes made him look like Michael Bublé. Mr. Schuester probably would have seriously coveted the look. Together, the three of them were going to make quite the trio. Kurt had style down to a science.
Rachel was starstruck for a brief moment as the three of them approached her. Then she remembered they were supposed to be her new best friends. Her costars on Broadway. How exciting! She felt like she was meeting them again for the first time.
Rachel couldn’t form words. They all stood in a moment of awkward silence as Rachel mulled everything over.
Kurt tried to get her to say something. “Judy? Liza?” He poked her. “Patti LuPone?”
Rachel shook herself out of the trance. “Oh, sorry. Hi!”
Meredith spoke fast and furiously. “Okay, Rach, puh-lease tell me you did not call us all the way out here to the boonies to help you fulfill some desperate childish need to prove your success to a bunch of midwestern high school students and soccer moms because none of them ever believed in you before.” Her tone was not friendly. But she had hit the nail right on the head.
“Of course not,” Rachel shot back.
Carmine yawned. “Is this about an ex-boyfriend? Want me to beat him up? Want me to kiss you in front of him?” He stretched lazily. “When can we go home? I miss New York. This place smells like fried food and unrealized dreams.”
For someone so good-looking, he was quite annoying to have around. It’d be better if he didn’t talk.
After glancing at his surroundings, Carmine pulled out his cell phone and started texting someone. Approximately three seconds later, Meredith’s phone buzzed. She read the text and cackled. Then they both looked at Rachel and burst into a fit of giggles again.
“Riiiight?” Carmine said, glancing from Meredith to Rachel.
“Oh my God, so right,” Meredith agreed, trying to contain herself.
Rachel didn’t understand the private joke, but she was pretty sure it was about her. Well, at least they were having fun. They both looked really out of place standing in the hallway at McKinley High
, even though they couldn’t be much older than she was. Very hip and urban. Not at all Ohio. This is what people probably saw when they looked at her and Kurt now.
Kurt butted in. “You guys really need to go finish getting ready.”
Kurt was right—they were running out of time before the show was going to start. Rachel interrupted their text-fest.
“Yeah. Thanks for coming, you guys. It was really nice of you to make the trip. I really appreciate it a lot!” Rachel said sweetly. Meredith and Carmine looked at her like she had two heads.
“Who are you, and what have you gone and done with Rachel Scary?” Carmine said, playing with Rachel’s hair. “You are trying to be nice, and it’s really cute.”
“Looks like little Dorothy is back in Kansas!” Meredith howled. “There’s no place like home, right? You are definitely weird here, Rach. Let’s go do this thing and get back to the city.”
“Dressing room is that way,” Kurt said, pointing them down the hall toward the choir room. “Don’t get anything on your clothes! And if you see someone with a slushie, run!” Meredith and Carmine strutted off toward the dressing room, arm in arm. The two of them reminded Rachel of the way Brittany and Santana used to act with each other. “You should probably go with them. Make sure they don’t terrorize any children or break anything.”
Rachel turned to leave. Then she realized this was the perfect opportunity to confront Kurt.
“Wait—” Rachel said, looking him in the eyes. He looked so innocent. Maybe she was wrong…. No, her instincts hadn’t failed her so far. “I have something I want to get off my chest before I go out there.”
Kurt raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Oh?”
“Yes.” Rachel stuck her nose up in the air and looked away dramatically. She looked like she was about to deliver a Shakespearean monologue. “I know what you’ve been doing behind my back.” A moment passed. It was always better to add in strategic pauses when interrogating a criminal. She’d learned that tidbit from watching Law & Order reruns when she was home sick with laryngitis. A well-placed moment of silence often had the power to bring about a confession.
Summer Break Page 13