Don't You Desert Me Now 1/2
Title: Don't You Desert Me Now
Chapter: 1/2
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Something pushes Rachel over the edge.
Word Count: 13,700
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: For this prompt, left at the drabble meme. It ended up a little longer than your average drabble. By about 13,000 words. Oops?
Frankly, she's used to being ignored. For a full year and a half, people have been talking over her and treating her like her knowledgeable and well thought out opinions mean absolutely nothing and don't count for anything. She's used to that.
The blatant disrespect is new. Instead of people just talking over her, they've actually started telling her to shut up. She hates that phrase, finds it completely unnecessary; there are ways to ask someone to be quiet without being so rude.
They don't seem to realize that they need her more than she needs them. She's got voice lessons and acting classes and community theater. Her talent wouldn't fall to the wayside if there were no glee club. She might miss it, true (though that may not even be true anymore) but she doesn't need it. They need her. They can't win without her. The sad thing is, they haven't realized it and probably won't. She's the backbone, and the only person who's ever realized that is no longer speaking to her, after their rough breakup. She thinks he should get over it since it happened months ago, but apparently he's no more mature than anyone else.
So she has no friends, hardly any acquaintances.
She thinks that if she left tomorrow, they probably wouldn't even care. She's too stubborn for that, so she shows up to rehearsal every day, ready to work.
Besides, there's a smug, stubborn part of her that likes outsinging them all on a daily basis.
... ... ...
She knows the jocks have crossed a line when she's doused in coffee one morning. It's not scalding hot, but it's not a pleasant feeling. Everyone in the hall laughs at her, and even the one boy she thinks will show her some compassion right now, doesn't.
She watches Finn walk in the other direction and tries very hard not to cry. Crying will just make everything worse, all of it, and she thinks she might break completely if that happens.
... ... ...
He saw those douches throw coffee at her. That's fucking low. Cold is one thing; you get a chill and the shock, but it doesn't actually hurt. Hot is fucking dangerous, and even he'd never do that shit. So he found them after, in the bathroom, and told them that if they ever pulled that on anyone again, he was going to take shit into his own hands. He likes to keep his threats vague and make people guess their fate. More fun for him that way.
When he passes Rachel in the hall, she still smells like coffee and he notices she hasn't changed. He's pretty sure that's his fault, too, because ever since the slushie crap stopped, she probably hasn't been keeping a change of clothes at school.
He tosses her a plain white tee shirt from his locker and doesn't say anything to her.
She hands it back, says thank you for offering, but she'll be fine. He's a little confused as he watches her go, holding her books tightly to her chest. Someone bumps into her and she doesn't even chew them out. He thinks there's something serious going on with her.
Maybe it's just 'cause they're both in glee club or whatever, but there's a little part of him that's actually, like, concerned about her.
... ... ...
The final straw is when Mr. Schuester removes her from a number altogether. He doesn't just take away her solo (he does that, too, but it wouldn't bother her so much, since he does that so often she almost expects it) or stick her to the back of choreography. He removes her from the song. He tells her it'll be a good rest for her, and that he wants to try Mercedes on lead 'for once'.
He almost had her convinced, up until 'for once'.
"I'm sorry," she interrupts. "For once?"
"Here we go," Mercedes says, rolling her eyes dramatically and clicking her tongue.
Rachel doesn't care. She is not about to argue with that girl over anything. She's had enough of that since glee club started. She doesn't even bother looking at her as she speaks.
"You know, I've put up with a lot from this group. I've dealt with your lack of dedication and closed-mindedness, and I've generally done it with a smile, because despite what you all want to believe, I actually liked being part of a group. I haven't been unreasonable in wanting what I've wanted, and to be honest, you're all delusional if you think the entire reason there still even is a glee club is because of me." She turns to Mr. Schuester again, because seeing scared looks or more eye rolling doesn't appeal to her right now. "I'm sorry you feel the need to sacrifice us all and our performances for the sake of feeding an ego that's already out of control. And that's coming from me."
"Rachel, this isn't about you," Mr. Schuester says diplomatically.
She'd love to believe him. She really would.
"I'm sorry, but it's always been about me. This whole club has been about me, in some way or another, since it started. You all either hate me and talk behind my back, or you're begging me to help you work on things and come to your rescue. And still, you've never just admitted that you need me."
"That's not even true," Finn says. It's the first thing he's said to her in weeks. The last time he spoke to her, he wanted to borrow a pencil. She puts her hand on her hip and looks at him.
Something inside her snaps. He was her one true friend, her one ally for so long, and she never really wanted to believe they weren't still somehow going to work it out. Him taking the others' side and saying that just confirms that she is completely, entirely, 100 per cent alone.
And frankly, she's pissed about it.
She marches over to her seat and grabs her folder containing all the notes they'll need to improve on their performances to even dream of winning Regionals. There's no way they're getting her input if they don't want her, too.
"I wish you all the luck in the world trying to win with 11 members. You're going to need it," she says bitterly over her shoulder as she heads for the door.
It may be her best storm out yet.
It's also the only one she cries after. She's sitting in her car in the cold and realizing she's just quit the one thing she had left that made her happy at that school at all.
She wonders if it's too late to transfer to Carmel to finish out the year.
... ... ...
So yeah, her fucking bailing really sucks, and he's pretty sure he's the only one who knows it. That's 'cause despite the fact that he knows he's, like, awesome, he knows that the group fucking sucks without her. They learned that last year when she got sick and they could barely make it through one song without completely falling apart. That's bad news, considering Regionals are in two months.
They're totally fucked.
The really messed up thing is that he's actually kind of proud of her or whatever. He's been waiting for the day she snapped and told everyone to go fuck themselves, and it was pretty awesome that he got to witness it. Schue practically makes it his job to make her miserable, and Puck's surprised she put up with it for as long as she did. If he was in her shoes, he probably would have left after a week in glee club, based on the way those idiots treat her.
She's not exactly badass, but at least she's not a pushover anymore. There's something really awesome about that.
... ... ...
School the next day is even worse than usual. It's not like they ever did anything for her before, but now she knows that even if something does happen and one of the jocks assaults her with some kind of beverage, she really doesn't have anyone to turn to. She's completely alone. She has no friends, no 'frienemies'. She has no boyfriend and nowhere to eat her lunch in peace, since she's sure the choir room has been deemed off limits to her by her former 'teammates.'
So she walks the halls alone, which is nothing new at all, but at lunch, she can't even sit at the glee table and pretend they all like one another, that they all like her. She finds a quiet table in the corner, far away from everyone and tries not to notice the way they all look at her and start talking, snickering and no doubt making fun of her.
She has not deluded herself into thinking they'd actually miss her, not yet. (Not until they come in last at Regionals.) It shouldn't surprise her that they're actually being mean.
She glances around the cafeteria. She sees the glee/jock table. It's an interesting one, just few over from the glee table. Sometimes they all sit together. Today, Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Matt and Noah are all together, and Finn is with the others. The fact that he's laughing, too, hurts her heart more than it should. She should know by now that he really doesn't care about her at all.
She catches Santana's eye across the room and the girl very nearly smiles, but then Noah has his arm around her and he's almost got her in a headlock, so she looks away. Rachel doesn't know what any of that is all about.
She doesn't care. She doesn't need them. They were never her friends and they never will be.
She finishes her salad and drops off her tray, and she spends the rest of her lunch break in the library, counting down the minutes until she can go home.
... ... ...
So glee totally blows.
None of them will actually come out and say it, but they're absolutely as fucked as Rachel said they'd be without her. Seriously, they can't do this without her. He and Santana seem to be the only ones who know it, but even she doesn't really care, just wants to be wherever Britt is. He figures that makes sense, since he joined for Q in the first place. Whatever.
The whole problem he has is that he hates being part of a losing team. He gets enough of that shit playing football. And at least with football, he still looks cool doing it. Singing and dancing is one thing. Singing and dancing and sucking is totally another.
He tries not to say too much, though, just goes about singing his part and tries not to laugh too hard every time Kurt pooches a note or Mercedes has trouble with choreography Rachel knew like the back of her hand.
Fucked as it is, he totally envies her being able to just walk out like that.
... ... ...
She starts keeping extra clothes in her locker again out of necessity. She's probably the only person who's more of a loser after quitting glee club than she ever was as a member. She almost, almost goes back after the sting of a lemon-lime slushie burns her eyes, but she won't give them the satisfaction.
It's malicious and most definitely not healthy, but she wants to watch them crash and burn, which she knows they'll do in spectacular fashion. She may actually laugh about it. Yes. Yes, she thinks she will.
When she walks out after school one day and her car is covered in a mixture of slushies, toilet paper, and eggs, she seriously considers homeschooling.
Her fathers tell her it's too late in the semester for that and look at her all worriedly when she sighs and grinds her teeth like she always does when she's trying not to cry.
"What's wrong, sweetie? You've always loved school."
"I don't anymore," she snaps. "I hate it. Everyone hates me. I have no friends, and now that I'm not in glee club..."
"You're not in glee club?" Daddy asks, confused.
She shakes her head and wipes angrily at her cheeks. "I quit."
He doesn't ask why, and she thinks she loves him even more for that. He's known all along how those people treat her. Dad is the one who tells her to be strong and ride it out. Daddy doesn't want her to ever have to deal with those types of people. Between the two of them, they'd given her motivation to stay as long as she did. Now, though, she's just too far gone; too much has been said and done and she's over it.
"Okay," he says quietly. "What about all the other clubs."
"I didn't join this year so I could focus on glee," she whispers pathetically. She hates that she gave so much of her time and dedication to a group of people who wouldn't throw water on her if she was on fire. "I just hate school."
"It'll get better, honey," he promises, kissing the top of her head. She knows it's no true. He might not, but she does. "Just finish out the year and if you're still unhappy, we'll look into other schools."
She nods and tries to smile, wipes her cheeks, and knows how good she has it at home. She doesn't know anyone else whose parents would make that kind of promise. So at least she has that to be thankful for.
... ... ...
The day he walks into practice and Kurt and Mercedes are fucking squealing together over singing a duet that was always, always Rachel's song is the day he basically loses it.
He sits there for a few minutes and thinks it over, what he's about to do. And by 'thinks it over', he means he sits there and tries to come up with a way to give them the finger while telling them all how much they blow. He could do it, sure, but he's going for dramatics. He learned shit from Rachel, apparently. Yeah, she's obnoxious and pushy, but she's got more fucking talent than any of these losers will ever dream of having.
Mr. Schue walks into the room and Puck walks out.
He hears Finn and Schue calling after him, but he doesn't turn around, doesn't stop to explain himself or anything. He just leaves.
Fuck them.
He's not quitting because of Rachel, not really. He's just not about to go down with a sinking ship. He's like one of those dudes on the Titanic who hopped in the first fuckin' life boat and pushed a bunch of chicks and kids out of the way. Except, you know, not that much of a douche 'cause there's not actually lives at stake here.
The really fucked up thing is that it feels good, walking away from the bullshit. He can see why Rachel never looked back either.
... ... ...
She's more than a little surprised to see Noah walking towards his truck when she's cleaning off her car. Today's assault included wet crepe paper, so at least it's somewhat easier to clean, even if the dye is marking her silver paint and she'll have to go to the carwash immediately.
He's supposed to be in glee rehearsal.
"What are you doing?" she calls to him across the parking lot.
"Going home. The hell happened?" He walks over and sees the pile of red, white, black and gold streamers sitting behind her bumper. "Who did this?"
"Does it matter?" she asks, laughing bitterly. "This is nothing compared to what I usually get. And really, I'd rather they decorate my car than throw things in my face." He kicks at the pile with his toe. "Why aren't you in rehearsal?"
"Quit."
"What?"
He shrugs. "It's all bullshit anyway. I can play guitar and sing in my bedroom without having to deal with those fuckers."
She really should not smile, but she finds she can't help it. "That was part of my rationale, too."
"Yeah, you kind of fucked us when you left," he says. It's not an accusation, and she doesn't hear it as one. "They're idiots, though. They totally think they're still gonna win."
She smiles a little, raises her brow and looks at him darkly. "Not with 10 members, they aren't."
He grins at her, pulls a piece of paper off her car. "You're kind of a bitch."
She shrugs her shoulder and looks downward. "It's not like they don't deserve it, right?"
"They deserve a shitload worse than what you're giving." He laughs a little and she bites her bottom lip. She should not be attracted to him. The fact that he's the only person in a week and a half who's said anything to her other than derogatory remarks is probably playing into that. "Sucks that everyone's picking on you."
"Says the boy who put the target on my back the second day of freshman year," she says bitterly.
"Yeah. Fuck," he mumbles. He's already apologized and she doesn't really expect him to do it again.
"I'm just sick of this entire place. I'm sick of everyone treating me like some kind of sub-par human being when I didn't do anything wrong to any of them!" she says angrily. He nods, but she doesn't think he really gets it. "They're all losers. I'm the one who's getting out of here, glee club or no glee club. Actually, I'm better off without those...those...bitches. I can just focus on me and not worry about what they're saying."
He looks uncomfortable. And maybe a little proud of her for cursing. "Right on."
"Everyone in this school will live to regret the day they harassed me and said horrible things. When I'm famous, I'll call each and every one of them out by name and list the reasons why they're terrible," she says, and she doesn't know where this is coming from, any of it, or why she's saying it to him. It feels good, though, venting and making these threats that'll probably never be followed through upon.
Not that she won't be famous. Of course she will be.
"Am I on that list?" he asks teasingly.
She smiles a little. "Not at the moment, no." She sighs and shakes her head. "I'm sorry for telling you all that. I'm sure you think I'm insane or something."
"Already did." He winks when she rolls her eyes. "'S'cool, though. You're kinda hot when you're all pissy." She tries in vain to keep herself from blushing. "Hey, get a note to leave at lunch tomorrow, 'kay?"
He starts walking away and laughs at the confused look on her face. "Why?" she calls after him.
"We'll get the fuck away from here," he says, walking backwards and pulling his keys from his pocket.
She doesn't know where they'll go or what they'll do. She nods anyway and finds herself smiling when he salutes her from behind the wheel of his truck as he pulls away.
... ... ...
So look, he doesn't really know why he basically invited her out with him, but she really did look hot when she was ranting like a crazy person and totally acting like she's a bajillion times better than all those glee fuckers. True fact? She actually is better than all of them. And he thinks it's fucking hilarious when she says shit like that and tells it like it is. It's awesome that she knows herself so well, okay? He can relate to that.
Also? Something he's learned over the course of a little over a year, is that it's always better to be on her side than on the side of whoever she's fighting.
... ... ...
She's unnaturally nervous as she sits in the front seat of his truck. It's new. Last year, he was driving his mother's sedan around. She knows he bought this 10 year old Chevy at the end of the summer after working two jobs and saving his pennies. She says she admires his dedication and his work ethic, and he tells her, "Whatever. It's a piece of shit and it sucks oil like a two dollar whore, but she gets me around, you know?"
So no, that doesn't do anything to calm her nerves. He's tragically nonchalant about the whole thing, when she knows they haven't been alone together anywhere since they 'dated'. Although, that's a rather generous term for their farce of a relationship. They basically holed up in her bedroom and had some kind of unspoken contest to see how much they could kiss before her fathers came home and he had to leave.
(A lot, for the record.)
So she doesn't exactly know how to be alone with him and just sit here and not do or say anything.
"Why did you really quit glee?" she asks seriously.
"Told you."
"No, I mean really."
He glances at her. "I told you," he repeats. "Besides, you've started some kind of war or whatever, and you're like...you're the guy who's team you always wanna be on, you know?"
"Not exactly," she says. "I'm a girl, and I'm fairly certain that sentence makes no sense whatsoever."
He rolls his eyes, but laughs softly and sets his hand on the gear shift. "I'd rather fight with you than against you," he clarifies.
Oh. Well, that actually happens to make a lot of sense.
And it's nice to have someone choose to be on her side for once.
"Especially against those fuckers," he adds, and she laughs so loudly it startles her (it's been a while since she laughed) and she covers her mouth with her hand.
They go to McDonald's, which completely disgusts her at first. It turns out to not be all bad; she orders a salad and a bottle of water and she doesn't have to worry too much about the food she's consuming. He, on the other hand, orders two (two!) Bic Macs, super-sized fries, and a massive Coke. The fact that after he's done eating (how he finishes before she does is a feat of the human gastrointestinal system, she's sure) he orders an apple pie and a dish of ice cream and proceeds to dip the pie into the dish and eat it.
"That's the grossest thing I've ever seen," she remarks, pushing her tray away when she's done.
He shrugs. "I need lotsa calories."
She looks at him disbelievingly. "Why is that?" she asks.
"I work out a lot. Like, every day. Plus football and basketball. I'd pass out if I didn't eat so much," he explains. She thinks that's an exaggeration, but she supposes it makes sense. "So." He leans forward on the table and folds his arms one over the other. "How're we gonna make those assholes our bitches?"
This outing seems to make a lot more sense now that there's actually an agenda. For some reason, it makes her far more comfortable about the whole thing.
"I wasn't aware that was the objective."
He leans back in his chair again, grins smugly, and she knows that expression could very well get her into a world of trouble.
... ... ...
The first thing he does is make sure none of the fucking stupid jocks do anything to her. Look, he doesn't like, go up to them and tell them to lay off, or make any kind of big deal about her at all.
He does what any evil genius worth his salt would do.
He just puts the focus on someone else.
Like, say, that Jacob kid who's always looking at Rachel and walking around with a binder in front of his junk. Two birds with one stone. He just goes to Jacob and gives all the dirt he has on the jocks he can assume are bugging Rachel (and a few who just generally piss him off). That info goes up on Jacob's blog about two minutes later. Then Puck heads down the hall to the jocks and mentions seeing some things on Jacob's blog that they probably don't want on there. Like Karofsky only has one nut 'cause he hit himself with a skateboard wiping out and...well, he only has one nut. And Adam Sandford got crabs from some skank he fucked from West Lima last semester. And Anderson still shares a room with his little sister.
So yeah, Jacob and his little band of geeks are basically targets one through eight or whatever, and Rachel can walk down the hall without worrying about anyone fucking up her shit.
He's basically a genius.
They don't hang out or anything, but he doesn't straight up ignore her, either. Everyone's just as pissed at him as they are at her. Maybe more. Finn's not talking to him and Quinn's bitching at him every fucking 30 seconds about quitting. He doesn't really give a shit, because both of them have fucked him over just as much as he's fucked them over. They're all square now, and he doesn't have to listen to a damn word they say. Sometimes he and Rachel sit next to one another in class, and sometimes they hang in the library at lunch. He sits with her once in the cafeteria. Just for a few seconds, but he makes fun of her for eating fuckin' dandelion leaves and shit, steals one of her special vegan cookies (those things are good, too) and gets up to head over to where some of the better football dudes are sitting. No one gives him a hard time about it, 'cause he can do whatever the fuck he wants and they know it's none of their business.
"What're you up to this weekend?" he asks her one day as they head to the parking lot. It's a Friday afternoon and they both have a free period. Well, she has a free period and he's just skipping Chem, but whatever. They're both leaving.
She shrugs her shoulder and digs her keys out of her purse. "I don't know. Nothing, really. I have dance tomorrow, but that's about it." She looks at him from the corner of his eye like she suspects he's up to something. "Why?" she asks lowly.
He'd laugh if it wasn't so ridiculous that she still doesn't really trust him.
"Just making conversation."
She stops walking and puts her hands on her hips. It'd be more effective if she wasn't carrying two backpacks and a purse. "Look, if you're planning on ridiculing..."
"I'm not planning anything!" he says defensively. "Jesus. It was just a fuckin' question. I thought maybe you'd come to the game tonight, but fuck. Forget it. You'll probably just bitch at me from the stands or something."
That seems to get her attention. She moves her hands and looks down, toying with the pink sparkly 'R' on her key ring. "Oh," she says quietly. "Okay."
She starts walking again, and he rolls his eyes as he goes after her again. "So are you gonna come?"
She laughs out loud and gives him a doubtful look. "I don't exactly belong at a basketball game, Noah. And besides, my boycotting of all things McKinley certainly applies to athletics. I will not sit in the stands and watch as my ass of an ex-boyfriend attempts to lead a truly atrocious team to an unlikely victory." She looks at him quickly again. "No offense."
He laughs a little and holds up his hands. "I get it. But hey, just don't cheer for him." She raises her brow like she knows exactly what he's going to say. "Cheer for me."
"As tempting as it is to sit in a gym full of people who hate me, I'll take a pass on this one. Thank you anyway."
Alright, so he can't really blame her, and he doesn't really care one way or another if she actually goes to the game. It just kinda sucks that she's always saying that everyone hates her. He doesn't hate her. He might be the only one, but it's gotta count for something, right?
"Well, you wanna hook up after?" he asks. She's unlocking her car and she freezes, turns to look at him. Shit. "I didn't mean hook up, hook up. I meant, like, get fuckin'...ice cream or something."
"I'm vegan, Noah," she tells him for the hundredth time. "No dairy products."
"Dude, you're missing the fucking point."
"I'm not a dude." She's laughing, but really, he doesn't need a reminder of that particular fact. He notices it on the regular. "And...if you want to, you could come over after the game."
"Your dads gonna be home?" he asks. He never officially met them. He just waved one morning last year when he was 'dating' Rachel and he picked her up for school. She nods. Fuck. "Oh."
"Why are teenaged boys always intimidated by fathers?"
"'Cause fathers know what teenaged boys are into. Even gay fathers know that shit. And you got two of 'em." He holds two fingers up for emphasis and she laughs, tossing her things into the back seat. "But whatever. If you're convinced they won't, like, kill me or something..."
"I think they'll just be happy I have a friend coming over," she says, laughing a little. He doesn't think that shit's all that funny. He shoots her a look to tell her so. "They worry. Since I quit glee, I haven't exactly been...social."
He smiles and taps her gently on the chin with his fist. "Well, we'll social it up tonight. I'll text you after we lose."
He starts walking away, and he's smiling, 'cause he can hear her laughing, and he kinda likes that sound.
... ... ...
She finishes all her homework for the weekend before dinner on Friday night, just like she does every week. After she's finished eating and helping her fathers clean the kitchen, she heads back to her room and starts tidying up. She's generally neat, but she puts things away that she doesn't want him to see, like her teddy bear from when she was a baby and her Elphaba Barbie. (Limited edition collector's item, thank you very much.) She's never let anyone see those items, and while she's sure that whatever comments Noah came up with would be at least mildly entertaining, she wants to spare herself the ridicule.
She's a bit on edge, though, and she knows she's just overthinking everything he said this afternoon. It's just that when he was talking about her fathers being there, he made mention of 'what teenaged boys are into', so she's been questioning whether or not he wants those things with her, or just in general. She hasn't decided yet which she'd rather have be the case. On one hand, it's always nice to be desired. On the other hand, she really doesn't have time or energy or, frankly, the emotional strength to have a boyfriend right now. She's a little lost (she thinks he knows that) and she doesn't want to latch onto the one person paying any attention to her, just because there's no one else around. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. And knowing her, she'd stupidly fall in love with him or something ridiculous like that, and then she'd get her heart broken. She'd like to avoid that if at all possible.
She doesn't bother changing out of what she wore to school, because she doesn't want to seem eager or expectant. Besides, she loves this skirt, and her cardigan is warm and comfortable. Her house is on the cool side, since Daddy likes to light the fireplace in the living room and use that as a heat source. It doesn't do much for the rest of the house the rest of the time.
Anyway.
She's conservatively dressed and ready, even though she has absolutely no idea what they're going to do once he arrives.
The bell rings sometime after 9:00, and she hears him making small talk with her fathers, telling them about the loss and how he lead the team in scoring but couldn't catch up to the other team. She can tell he's nervous, too. It makes her feel better to know she's not alone in that.
She hears him coming up the stairs and vaguely wonders why she didn't go down to greet him at the door. Not that he has any manners to speak of or will think there's anything wrong with any of this.
She has no idea how to stand. It sounds silly, maybe, but she doesn't want to look too excited, but she doesn't want to make it look like she's completely nonchalant about this whole thing. It's stupid. She's had boys in her bedroom before. She's had him in her bedroom before.
"Hey," he says, walking in and flopping down on her bed. "We lost. A-fucking-gain. I swear, I should just quit sports all together."
His hands are behind his head and his tee shirt has ridden up a bit. She thinks it would be a shame if he was any less athletic than he is.
"Well, I'm sure you tried your hardest," she says. She sits down next to him and he looks over at her.
"Yeah. I did. Everyone else blows." She giggles despite herself. She really hates that kind of language, but somehow it works on him. It's as though he'd be unrecognizable if he didn't speak like that. "What'd you do?"
"Homework," she says with a shrug. He looks at her like she's crazy. "I like to get it done immediately so I have the whole weekend free."
"You would."
"What's that supposed to mean?" She doesn't mean to sound defensive, she just does. She's so used to everyone picking everything she does apart that she sometimes cant' tell when someone just says something to say it.
"Means you'd do that," he says easily. "I'm not making fun of you or anything, so save the hissy fit for someone else."
"I'm sorry," she says, turning to him a little more. She pulls her legs up and folds them, careful to make sure her skirt is dipping between her legs to cover her. She almost blushes when he turns on his side and she realizes his face is right...Well, it's a good thing she's careful with her skirt. "I'm just getting used to this."
"Used to what?"
"To having a friend," she says quietly.
He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Damn, Rach, why you gotta do that?" he asks, almost laughing.
"I'm just being honest," she says, shrugging her shoulder. She's thought about what he said the other day. She does want to, as he says, make them her bitches, whatever that entails. "I just want...I want them all to pay, you know?"
He kinks his brow. "What're you thinkin'?"
She laughs. "I don't mean whatever delinquent acts you have in mind. I just want them to regret it, you know? Treating me so badly for so long."
"They're already fucked for performing."
"I know." She sighs and shakes her head. "To be honest, I'd love nothing more than to join Vocal Adrenaline or something and just...outperform all of them. If I won a national title without them, they'd have to admit I'm better than them."
"Well, shit, Rach, they already know that," he insists. She doesn't know how he came to that conclusion, but she's never come to the same one. "They treat you like shit because you're fucking awesome. They know you're gonna fuckin'...go out there and do it, and they'll be in, like, hairdresser school or some shit. They're jealous assholes, all of them."
She bites her lip and tries really hard not to smile as widely as she wants to. But really, it's been a long time since anyone but her fathers sang her praises. The fact that this is coming from this boy, this attractive boy who seems to be the only one who cares about her whatsoever, is making her feel...well, really good. It's been so long since she felt really good that she has no idea how to handle it.
"You think I'm awesome?" she asks quietly.
He rolls his eyes again, purses his lips and looks at her like she's stupid for not just knowing.
It's incredibly girly and very dangerous and most likely the worst possible thing to think, but she really, really likes that he does know.
...Part II...