A/N: Your typical 'Rachel isn't what she seems' story that I can't avoid.

There might be a few mistakes in there. Not that perfect

Rachel wanted nothing more than to eat lunch in peace. But of course, her peace of mind was disturbed by three lumbering, brain-dead jocks who thought it would be a good idea to pour two large slushies over her head. With a piece of lettuce, a carrot, and a tomato speared on her fork, halfway to her mouth, Rachel closed her eyes on instinct as the liquid dripped down her face, neck, and under her sweater. There was laughter, as usual, and there was scrambling by the other Glee members to get as far away from her as possible.

Using her hands to clear her vision, Rachel counted down from ten and stood up slowly. She walked out of the cafeteria, her steps matching the chorus of teasing and jeering coming from every corner of the room, and she kept counting as she made her way to her locker. She'd made it to fifty by the time she'd calmed down enough to focus on what she needed to grab.

Strong hands swatted hers away, and Rachel relaxed.

"Come on. I know somewhere we can go without drawing too much attention."

She nodded, the coldness of the drinks numbing her lips and cheeks, and she let Sam guide her. They walked in the opposite direction of the main bathroom, and when she saw the main offices come into view, albeit a bit blurry, she sighed.

"Don't be like that. There's only one bathroom you can change without worrying about someone coming in and making things worse."

"I hate coming to her like this. She has enough to deal with, pretending as if it does not bother her, but I cannot possibly be helping by showing up and dripping ice all over the place."

Sam squeezed her shoulder as he knocked on the door, and when they got confirmation to come in, Rachel grudgingly followed him inside. There was a sharp exhale, and Rachel waited for the explosion that never happened.

After a moment of tense silence, there was a soft mutter of, "The bathroom's all yours, Ace."

Rachel glanced up, seeing the resignation on her Godmother's face, and smiled weakly. "Thanks," she said.

"No problem. You can hang out in the back room until it's time for Glee."

Rachel shook her head and took the bag from Sam. "No, I would rather not hide. You both know that is a last-ditch resort for me," she said.

"But-

"But nothing," Rachel cut in smoothly, patting Sam on the arm. "You should go back," she said to him.

"Why?"

"I am sure someone saw you get up. I prefer to avoid the rumors if you do not mind."

"You know that shit doesn't matter to me."

"Yes, well, it matters to your girlfriend." She saw him flinch, and Rachel gave him a gentle push towards the exit. "Go on. I will be fine. I always am," she said.

"Lies."

"Wishful thinking."

"Rach-

"Sam, honestly. This is not the first time it has happened, and it will not be the last. Quinn is exceptionally diligent in making sure I go through at least three outfits a day, many of which have to be thrown out."

"But you throw them out anyway," he pointed out.

"Do you think the kids in this school are smart enough to come up with another reason as to why I wear new sweaters every day other than the fact I get slushies poured down my shirt just for breathing?" she asked wryly.

Sam stuck out his tongue and Rachel made a face at him, removing her sweater without a second thought. Sam's seen her naked at least fourteen different times on fourteen separate occasions and considering they practically grew up in the same house; it was not uncommon for them to change in front of one another. She tossed it in the trash, mourning another five dollars wasted, and saw Sam hovering by the door. Her Godmother got up and unlocked the back room for her, and Rachel smiled at her best friend.

"Seriously, the longer you stay in here, the worse it will be for us both. Just go back to the cafeteria before someone comes looking for you."

"Fine, fine, I'm going, but you better be in Schue's class."

"I would never miss Spanish," she said softly, keeping her head down so she wouldn't see the knowing smirk etched on Sam's face.

"Course not. I'll see you later, Ace."

She nodded, waving him off, and when the door closed behind him, Rachel felt her Godmother come up behind her.

"I will be right outside if you need anything else, alright?"

"Yes, thank you. I will not be that long."

"I still don't understand why you keep up the act around Sam and me."

Rachel grinned and said, "Because if I slip up one time, I will slip up another. It keeps me on my toes, though I am tired of using the long way to get to a point."

"I would imagine so. Now move it. Lunch is almost over, and I don't want you super late to class."

"Yes, ma'am."

Rachel hurried into the spare room behind her Godmother's office and closed the door. She placed her bag on the sink counter and turned on the shower. Humming to herself, Rachel shifted through her gym bag. Knowing there were only two periods left, Rachel pulled out an owl sweater and skirt combination she found at the thrift store.

"Least these are a normal shade of pink," she muttered.

Rachel ran the water for the shower, stripped off the rest of her clothes, and once it got hot, she stepped inside. Putting a shower in the back office was not the original plan, but they figured someone would need it at some point. Unfortunately, they didn't anticipate Rachel needing to use it because the head cheerleader was a self-righteous bitch whose favorite method of torture was a generic Icee. Taking a deep breath, Rachel resumed her counting. She continued to calm her breathing and center herself as she washed the sticky substance off her skin and face.

With the strong possibility that there would be another slushy bath, Rachel took advantage of the shower. She wouldn't be able to do it a second time and figured she'd better make the most of it. If experience taught her anything, Quinn would do another one just after the end of classes, and Rachel would have no choice but to attend Glee in her gym stuff and covered in dried slushy.

Luckily for her, despite everything, she remembered to grab the right set of clothes. Lord knows how the club would've reacted to her showing up in her preferred workout gear. Sam would've had himself a ball, but the others? Not so much.

There was a knock on the door, and Rachel poked her head out to hear her Godmother tell her to wrap it up. Quickly washing the soap out of her hair, Rachel snatched one of the spare towels off the rack and wrapped it around her head. She stepped out of the shower and searched through the bottom of the bag for her underwear. She was halfway dressed when there was another knock, and the door opened.

"Ace?"

She looked at her Godmother, and said, "I know, I know, I will probably be a little behind."

"No, it's not that. Your, um, your father called."

Rachel sighed. "Let me guess: there is a major problem at some location in some city that would require him to be away for an extended period?"

"He says he's going to try and make it back for the party, but that we shouldn't postpone it."

Rachel's grip on the counter tightened, but she kept her composure since she wasn't alone. "Okay," she said.

"Ace-

"I need to finish getting dressed," Rachel said, mentally wincing when her voice cracked.

Her Godmother frowned, but ducked out and closed the door behind her. Without thinking, Rachel punched the mirror, watching her reflection crack and distort. The pain in her hand did nothing to soothe her anger, and after making sure she didn't slice through a nerve, Rachel opened the cabinet door to get the first-aid kit. She picked out the small pieces of glass first and then poured alcohol over her knuckles. Confident that was the best she could do until she got home, Rachel wrapped gauze around it and used a safety pin to hold it together. Then she slid on her clothes and grabbed her bag. She was at least five minutes later for class, and when she walked out of the office, her Godmother had a pass for her on the desk.

"That's the fourth mirror this month."

"Then you should buy stronger glass," Rachel murmured.

Her Godmother snorted. "Or you should learn to control your anger better. The counting and deep breaths aren't helping."

Rachel rolled her eyes and was on her way out of the door when her Godmother called her name.

"What now?" she groaned.

"Towel."

"Oh." Rachel snatched the towel off her head and tossed it to Sue. "Thanks," she said.

"Get out of my office."

Rachel pursed her lips at the tone but knew she deserved it. She looked out, making sure there weren't any Cheerios around, and quickly exited the office. She had a five-minute window to get to her locker and Spanish before Mister Schue marked her absent, and she did not need another tardy on her record.

All Rachel wanted to do was have a drama-free day. She'd gotten too comfortable over the summer, enjoying having her father home and Sam not being distracted by short skirts and disgustingly pretty green eyes. Then again, he was a guy, and Rachel couldn't find too much fault in it. She was distracted by short skirts and beautiful brown eyes herself. Brown eyes that held so many secrets Rachel got dizzy just thinking about it. She snapped out of her daydream and dropped her bag off in her locker before jogging to Spanish. Rachel made it before Schue locked the door, and slid in apologetically. She gave him the pass, and he looked at it oddly.

"You got a pass from Coach Sue?" he asked.

Rachel frowned. "I dripped slushy on her tracksuit, and she spent the last fifteen minutes yelling at me," she lied.

"Oh. Okay, well, sit down and get started."

Rachel nodded and rolled her eyes when she turned her back on him. She sat down next to Brittany, and the blonde pointed to the bandage.

"You broke a mirror again?" she whispered.

"Maybe."

"You really need to go to anger management. This can't be healthy."

Rachel snorted. Brittany was the last person to talk about anger management. She looked at the blonde, saw the amusement dancing in her eyes, and she said, "I'll go when you go."

"I'll have to check my schedule."

"You do that."

Brittany grinned and passed Rachel the assignment for the day. They spent the rest of the class in silence and when they finished Rachel and Brittany huddled together and laughed at memories from the summer. While they were distracted with one another, Rachel barely registered the eyes boring into the side of her face.

But someone else did.

Sam smirked and made a mental note to tell the dynamic duo they're closeness grated the nerves of their resident Latina, and then, he would sit back and watch the fireworks.