Santana approached Quinn with her queen bitch smirk firmly in place, looking at her junior year yearbook picture in the girl’s locker with a sense of pride and arrogance.
“Hey there, Fabray,” Santana said sweetly, raising her eyebrows. “Interesting choice of decoration. You know, it’s strange, because I could’ve sworn you broke up with me before the semester began and yet, there I am, sitting so proudly in your locker amongst all your emo shit.”
“Drop it, Satan,” Quinn snapped, running a hand through her pink hair and pointedly not looking at her.
“Is that your way of letting me know that you worship me? We all know you converted to a satanist, Q, it’s no secret.” Quinn didn’t respond and Santana took a step closer, a predatory gleam in her eye. “And you know what else isn’t a secret? How badly you still want me.”
“Is this your way of asking me out again?” Quinn demanded, clenching her jaw as she grabbed her books from her locker and slammed the door shut.
“No. You had your chance and you blew it. Besides, as hot as it is to see you smoking, I really don’t dig the whole living-in-a-dumpster look you’ve got going on. And you smell like dog shit. This is just my way of letting you know that I know. You’re into me and you’re just too scared to admit it.”
“Whatever, Lopez. Why don’t you go hang off of Britt like a lost puppy? It’s the only thing you’re really any good at, after all.”
“Funny you mention Britt, actually, because once I’m done here, I’m going to the janitor’s closet with our pretty little blonde friend for a hook-up. How does that makes you feel, Fabray?”
“It’s none of my business who you fuck, Santana. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to ditch.”
Quinn pushed past Santana and strode away without a word, leaving a very smug head cheerleader against the lockers. She tightened her ponytail and cocked her head to watch Quinn leave.
That punk-ass bitch would be hers again in no time.