Apex Predator

Math

I hate math. Always have and always will. Like why do we need to know how to multiply or find a percentage or add? Isn't that what a calculator's for? Anyway, the reason I'm talking about math is because I was in math class when this part of the story took place.

I sat about four desks away from Quinn Fabray. I remember because I used to spend all my time in that class staring at the back of her head, wondering what she was thinking. That day she came in as usual. She had shoved a couple of kids into the lockers on her way down the hall, made someone move from the desk beside her because she smelt, and asked the guy behind her to lend her a pencil four times, subsequently snapping each one in half and giving it back. That was all just a normal day for queen Quinn.

I was doing my usual work, staring at the back of Quinn's head instead of solving the algebra problems we had been given (What? I find it strangely satisfying to watch her do the work!), when I noticed something unusual. Quinn was sat up straight, staring at the wall ahead of her. She never did that. She kept her head down and got on with the work, only raising her head to roll her eyes or give out a cold stare. I watched as she quietly and calmly raised her hand. The teacher looked up from her desk.

'Yes Quinn?'

'Erm Miss can I go to the toilet?'

'Yes, ok then.'

She left the classroom and before I knew it I was up on my feet.

'Santana Lopez, where on earth do you think you're going?'

I didn't listen. Where was she going? I followed her down the hall and pushed the bathroom door open, closing it as quietly as possible. The stall at the end had its door closed and I could hear her sniffling. The sniffles quickly turned into sobs. I punched the air. I was right all along; Quinn Fabray did have emotions! I had heard Quinn cry. It felt like I'd just seen Santa or something.

Quinn started throwing up. I felt bad all of a sudden. I wondered what was making her so unhappy. I just wanted to take it all away from her. I wanted to go in there and hold her hair, tell her everything's gonna be ok or something cheesy like that. But if she knew I was here she'd go mad.

I stood still while Quinn continued to cry and throw up. As her sobs got fewer and quieter, I thought it was best to leave. She deserved some privacy. But I just couldn't stop thinking about what I'd heard. Was she Ok?