Author's Note: It's here. The one I'm guessing many of you have been waiting for. The last chapter. BRITTANY. Yes, Brittany, bitches. And I may have given a warning before to expect horrible, horrible writing when we came to this chapter, but actually, I had a stroke of genius (or at least I hope it's genius) and it's no longer horrible. I won't say anymore than that right now, so just read on. I may have to edit this later, but since it's midnight and I'm tired and it's almost Christmas, I'm posting it as it is and then getting my ass in bed.

So... Brittany S. Pierce laments her "confusion" of music and ducks.

BRITTANY

"It's a male duck."

I know what a ballad is. I always have known. A ballad is a narrative verse set to music. In other words, it's a musical story.

Does this surprise you? Do you really think I'm actually as stupid as everyone believes? I'm not. Not at all.

Recipes don't confuse me. Actually, I'm quite good at deciphering them.

I never dated a seven year old. I might not be eighteen, but I'm still pretty sure that's still pedophilia.

I know how to turn a computer on. I'm typing this, aren't I?

I know I'm not more talented than the rest of glee club. My ears work, I hear Rachel when she sings.

I know Santa doesn't exist. In fact, I'm one of those kids who never believed he did.

No, this isn't Santana trying to prank you. I, Brittany S. Pierce, am a certified genius. There are papers to prove it if you don't believe me. You see, before I moved to Lima, I was that girl who is too smart for their own good. My grades were perfect. But I had no friends. Everyone always felt inferior around me, even when I tried not to be superior. And I hated it. I know there's those other genius kids out there who don't mind being friendless, that feel as if friends are only a liability when it comes to ruling the world someday. But I wasn't one of them. I'm a social person, and adults were the only ones who ever liked me. Unfortunately, I craved the company of my peers, not of stuffy teachers trying to prepare me to better the world with my intelligence.

Because I could, if I wanted to. But I don't. I just wanted to be normal. However, it seemed pretty clear that's what I was going to end up doing with my life.

But then, the summer after eighth grade, my parents died.

No one in Lima knows this, not even Santana, who sometimes I think suspects I'm not really stupid. No one knows that the people I live with now are only adoptive parents. Adoptive parents, who only want me to be happy, unlike my real parents. So once I figured out that they would let me be whoever I want to be, I knew it was time to change. I spent the rest of that summer practicing my ditz act and working out so I could join the Cheerios. The first time I met the sixteen year old boy who lived next door, I had my first kiss and then proceeded to lose my virginity within the hour.

It was perfect. I knew what it took to be popular in high school. Or at least, I knew what it took at the high school I had was meant to attend my before my biological parent's deaths. There, you couldn't be any more intelligent that the norm at all. You had to be an athlete of some sort. And the final step to popularity: sleep around. Or a be a slut, if you'd like to look at it in less eloquent terminology.

At McKinley it's different. Although the act I have created did certainly make me popular, I didn't need to be so extreme. Sure, Cheerios was a given, but I could have settled with pretending to only be slightly smarter than average. Also, I don't need to be a slut here. But it's too late to turn back now.

I hate getting C's and D's and F's on my report cards, when I know I could be getting all A+'s. I hate guys looking at me, knowing that more likely than not, I'll sleep with them if they ask. I don't hate Cheerios, but that's mostly because of Santana. Cheerios is really the only positive thing I have gotten out of this whole act. Well, kind of positive. Anything that involves Sue Sylvester cannot be accurately described as a good thing.

So what does any of this have to do with my "confusion" of ballads and male ducks? When I said that, it was then that it became too late to turn back if I wanted to. During freshman year, I flew mostly under the radar. I kept the ditziness to a minimum. No one ever thought I was smart, but no one ever thought I was retarded either. Despite being best friends with Quinn and Santana, I wasn't that popular for a Cheerio. Regardless, I was still far more popular than I had ever been in what I like to think of as "my old life." And the taste of popularity I had made me greedy. I knew if I said something completely and utterly retarded, people would notice me more, which would eventually lead to a higher level of popularity. Obviously, there's probably better ways I could have gone about attaining this, but creativity has never been my strong point, even though I'm a genius. So when Mr. Schue asked what a ballad was, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. And no one has looked at me the same since.

At first, I loved it. Everything went as planned. I continued saying stupid things, and people indeed noticed me more often. I became more popular, and I started sleeping around even more. Back then, all I really thought about was popularity and sex, so it was all good.

But then I fell in love with Santana. I'm not sure when it happened. All I know is that we went into glee club sophomore year as best friends with benefits and came out of it that year in love. Or at least, I did. I know Santana's not in love with me, even though she thinks I'm oblivious to this.

I know she's in love with Quinn. I see the way Santana watches her when she thinks no one else is looking. It's the same way I used to look at her, whether people were watching or not. (I also may have hacked San's computer to check her own paper, and it indeed confirmed that she loves Q). But I knew anyway. I'm much more observant that people give me credit for.

So I also know that Quinn is still in love with Finn. And that Finn is in love with Santana, who, as already established, is in love with Quinn. Such a juicy love triangle no one knows exists but me.

To add to that confusion, I can tell Mike and Puck are also in love with Quinn. Tina is in love with Mike, although that's kind of obvious. Artie is still hopelessly in love with Tina. Sam isn't in love with Quinn, despite the promise ring he gave her, and in fact I'm fairly sure he's bisexual. I don't know this for sure, but I'm also convinced Rachel still loves Jesse.

And of course, last but not least, I'm in love with Artie. Yeah, I actually am. Everyone thinks I'm just using him, and at first I was, but now I actually love him, even though it's oh so obvious to me he still wants Tina.

But what about Santana?, you ask. Didn't I just say I was in love with her?

Exactly. I was. Until she me apart, when she said it to my face that she's not in love with me. Of course I already knew that, but it finally hearing the words was the last straw. I moved on from the hopeless dream that one day she may love me. I can tell she's tried, but she can't bring herself to forget about Quinn.

So what does any of the glee club's secret passions have anything to do with lying about my intelligence? It was when I fell in love with Santana that I realized I didn't want the image I had cultivated for myself anymore. Before I realized she loves Quinn, I though Santana was all I needed. The constant airhead remarks (because seriously, thinking of those takes a lot more brainpower than you would think) and the constant sex finally got to me. I realized that although being popular had been awesome, I missed being smart. Santana would have appreciated me just the way I was if I was truthful to her. She's far more loyal than people think.

But it's too late now. I can't take any of it back. I'm stuck with being the ditzy blonde Cheerio for the rest of my life.

I let the craving for popularity get the better of me, and now I'm screwed.

Well. That didn't end exactly how I wanted it to, but I still like this a whole lot more than the last few chapters I've written. Which is good, because this is officially the end of this story. For now, at least. I'm considering writing an aftermath of these lies, perhaps where Sue steals the papers and spreads the content around, but for now, I'm done. So leave this on story alert, because if I ever write that I'll be sure to attach a new chapter with a note alerting people of that being published. I think (I think) story alert still works even if a story is marked complete.

So... one last time. Love? Hate? In between? Whatever you feel, leave me a review! It's too late to think of another clever way to pawn for reviews, so please, just do it.

And now I bid you adieu, my lovely readers. Thanks for anyone who has stuck with this! All the reviews, favorites, and story alerts mean more to me than I can really say.