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"I told you guys."
Santana rolls her eyes. "Will you shut up?" The thirteen teens were making their way from the auditorium after witnessing Jesse betray the New Directions and very publicly break up with Rachel.
"It's a Carmel High tradition. They psych out the competition a few weeks before the big show." Artie explains as Cynthia and others walk along with him. "They call it 'funkification,' meaning they show us what they've got and we spiral into a deep, black funk."
"Yeah, we used to do the same thing to other football teams. Try to get inside their heads; pull little pranks to intimidate them."
"The difference was, our football team sucked." Puck counters Finn. "Those guys are golden."
"Keep your heads up, guys." Kurt encourages everyone, forcing a smile on his face. "It's gonna take more than that to get us into a funk."
"Cyn!" Everyone stopped walking, a silent gasp falling from Cynthia's lips. By now, the hallway was empty, with the last students ducking into their classrooms. Cynthia's breath hitched harshly at her throat as she slowly turned around, and the other's slowly following suit while exchanging looks of concern and confusion. The sight of Maya in her blue VA jacket and her performance dress caused the girl's heart to pound loudly, her surroundings blurring. The two girls stared at each other for what felt like a long time, tears pooling in their eyes. She looked different. Still beautiful. But, had circumstances been different, there would be no hesitation in Cynthia speaking out or running into her arms.
Wanting to break the silence, Maya goes to walk towards the girl, but another voice from the corner stops her while simultaneously sending a dark, cold shiver down her back, the hair on her neck standing up.
She was instantly transported back to the last few months of her freshman year—the months where most of her classes were taken after school privately to avoid as much interaction with the student body. Spending lunch and study hall in the girls bathroom stall. Every day started with a slur or some mean word spray painted on her locker. Anthony, Jesse, and Maya, along with the rest of her old vocal adrenaline peers, ignoring her into oblivion, but not before Anthony greeted her snarkly every morning.
Cynthia instantly recognized the boy, and so did the rest of the group, who were able to put two and two together. Cynthia stared, her eyes widening, her breathing becoming visibly shorter and quicker, almost on the verge of a panic attack. Cynthia felt a hand slip into her right side and another in the crook of her elbow, recognizing Quinn's perfume instantly, causing her heart to calm down slightly. Anthony, throwing an arm around Maya, finally faced his old friend, a smirk forming on his face and his eyes falling between her and Quinn.
"Hey! It's the little queer stalker."
"Anthony, let's just go." Maya tries to pull the boy away but fails miserably as he detaches himself from her side, making his way closer to Cynthia. Behind the pair, Tina, Mercedes, and Kurt slowly pushed the four football jocks to the back, acting as a barrier in case one of them decided to jump the asshole.
