Predator

Chapter Eleven

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Sectionals turned out to be a disastrous victory.

First of all, Finn did not take the news lightly. The day after he found out, he attacked Puck on first sight and promptly quit Glee Club. Apparently Mercedes told all of the others. They had known long before he did, and when he found this out, he cursed us all to hell and stormed out of the room. I don't blame him, though.

So his absence left us one member short for competition requirements. We compensated by convincing the biggest embarrassment to my Jewish faith, Jacob Ben Israel, to be an extra 'sway-in-the-back-and-don't-sing' performer. To which I had to spend the entire bus ride having him pester me about pregnancy details, as he happens to be the school's in-formal gossip and blogger.

Then, as if I couldn't be any more stressed, we discovered that our setlist was leaked by none other than Sue Sylvester, surprise-surprise. The two other choirs decided to, in fact, use that to their advantage and each performed a song that we were going to do. We performed last, so if we did them we'd appear to be copying. So we had to start completely from scratch, an hour before we were due to perform.

But just as things looked like it was all over, Finn showed up out of nowhere, with a song idea too. I guess the adrenaline helped us to create the choreography in a flash, but we still needed a new solo. I assumed it would go to Mercedes, as she was going to do it anyway, but then she freaked out and said that she couldn't perform on-the-fly. So they turned to me.

I didn't want to sing a solo. I've stopped practicing since October and I still can't find the passion I've always had for singing. But they all insisted that I was the only one who could do it, and I can't keep letting them down. So I agreed. And there's only one song in my repertoire that doesn't require practice. I've had it memorized since I could only babble it and I could sing it backwards if I tried.

Don't Rain On My Parade- Barbra Streisand, my idol, and from my favorite movie of all time, Funny Girl. It's kind of symbolic, for more than one reason. I tried to channel all of my hurt into it while I sang; maybe that's why I did it so well. As everyone came out onto the stage to do our next number, I could see the shock and excitement in their faces.

So despite all of the obstacles thrown at us, we ending up winning. We won our very first competition; why am I sitting here feeling so numb?

I'm currently riding the bus back home to Lima. It's dark out, it's cold because it's about thirty degrees and there's no heating, and I couldn't be any more uncomfortable. Especially since Mr. Schuester is sitting in the seat across the aisle from me.

I deliberately chose a seat in the very back because I figured he'd sit in the front, but I guess the universe is out to get me once again. I'd feel less vulnerable if I had Quinn to sit next to, but she went home with Mercedes. In fact, I'd even feel less vulnerable if this bus had more people on it. It's only me, him, Tina, Puck, and stupid Jacob Ben Israel. Everyone else had a ride.

I pretend to be focused on peeling away my nail polish, because I know that he's watching me. I guess I'm used to this by now, and I don't really give a damn. Look all you want, asshole. You won't get a rise out of me.

I sneak a glance at him every once in awhile, discreetly. There's still a trace of a smile on his lips; his face glows with what I think is either joy, relief, or pride. Maybe all three. Winning this competition has really made him happy, I wish it would do the same for me. Don't I deserve to be happy more than him?

I look over again and we make eye contact. Shit! I avert mine quickly, and can only hope that he doesn't see my surely reddened face in this dim light. I hear him clear his throat. And then I hear him get up from the seat.