HUNGRY EYES !
chapter two | all hail vocal adrenaline
( 1x11 — hairography )
warning: first depiction of an eating disorder
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DESPITE NOT BEING IN THE CLUB, Evie hoped—for the New Directions' sake—that Mr. Schuester would come to his senses and realize they didn't need Hairography to distract from how good their voices actually were.

Sitting in the back of the choir room—positioned behind the students of Haverbrook School for the Deaf—was enough to convince her of that.

The performance she helped choreograph had been fine, she supposed. But if there was one thing it proved, it was that the New Directions had zero business trying to sell a routine with dance alone.

And judging by the unimpressed expressions on the Haverbrook kids' faces and the aggressively judgmental sign language?

They were thinking the exact same thing.

Evie had only stuck around out of politeness—it would've been weird to just ditch after spending multiple hours helping them the other day. But now, as she watched them fumble their way through a wig-heavy disaster, she was kind of glad she stayed. After a long day of school and early morning Cheerios practice, Evie could use a bit of comedic relief.

Either way, the worst part (or arguably the best part, since it was the whole point) was that Hairography was doing exactly what it was supposed to—distract.

But that wasn't strategy.

Honestly, it was a shitty one.

And Evie would be damned if that got them anywhere near placing at Sectionals. Not when they had voices like this.

She might have had personal qualms with certain members (namely Mercedes, given their recent one-sided beef, if you could call it that), but that didn't change the fact that the girl's voice alone could carry them into competition placements. And yet, for some incomprehensible reason, Mr. Schuester was determined to bury that under excessive head flips.

It made literally no sense.

Evie was just about ready to mentally file the whole afternoon under wasted time (time that could've been spent reaching her six pirouette goal, by the way)— when the students of Haverbrook started their own performance.

Maybe the Berry girl was just an emotional person (she definitely was). Or maybe it was the contrast—the difference between trying so hard to impress with flashiness versus something that just felt effortless. Regardless, it hit her right in the soft spot she may or may not have had for Glee.

It wasn't even Haverbrook's singing that initially got to her. Although the performance was heartwarming— their sign language falling to place with the words they spoke, and John Lennon's piano chords adding to the effect, it was actually the New Directions that suddenly put Evie in her feelings.

It was the way—without hesitation—the entire Glee Club got up to join in. No second-guessing, no hesitating, just seamlessly blending their voices, mirroring the signs, making it feel easy. This was the kind of thing that would take them further than any gimmick ever could, and Evie didn't even try to bite back her smile as she watched it unfold.

For all the insanity that came with Glee Club—every questionable decision, every ridiculous plan—there was something real buried underneath it all. And the rest of McKinley? They would never know because they didn't care to learn.

And that was probably also why the raven-haired girl suddenly felt a little guilty—because, for all the time she'd spent knowing the Glee Club wasn't just some weird social experiment, she had never actually stood up for them. (Granted, she hadn't actively hounded them either, but still.)

Why couldn't they have just been bad? That would make Evie feel a lot better about trying to not enjoy herself.

A gentle tug on her hand pulled Evie from her thoughts. She turned to find Quinn, smiling softly, palm extended in invitation. Evie then realized she was the only one still sitting, looking quite antisocial in a room full of singing teenagers.

"Come on, Eves," the Fabray girl urged, barely raising her voice over the singing.

Evie hesitated. She opened her mouth to say something—but then shook her head. "It's okay, I couldn't—"

She was promptly cut off, by her sister, of all people. Which, honestly? Might have been the biggest shock of the night.

Evie barely had time to process it before Rachel beamed at her, eyes bright with something almost conspiratorial. "Evie, come," she grinned, waving her over.

The Berry girl assumed it must have been the emotional moment temporarily overriding her usual territorial instincts, because there was no way Rachel was suddenly okay with her sister being around the Glee Club. (Evie made a mental note not to get used to it.)

The twins shared a lot of things: makeup, the occasional piece of clothing, even music taste for the most part. But Glee and Cheerios were two things that separated the girls entirely different from one another. One was Rachel's, one was Evie's, and that was that.

Still, Evie let herself be pulled into the group, seamlessly slipping between Quinn and Matti as they followed along with the song.

The blondes had become increasingly close ever since Quinn got kicked off the Cheerios and committed to Glee, and with the pregnancy situation escalating, they had only solidified their friendship. The three had already sorta been close when Evie forced the group together freshman year, but there was definitely a sudden spark. Evie made another mental note to ask one of them about it later.

Anyways, despite all her internal protests, Evie actually found herself enjoying the performance. And she was only getting semi-emotional as she tried to keep up with her new hard of hearing friend (Imagine was such an evil song to do this to).

She had spent so much time keeping a careful distance from this club—from this part of Rachel's world— that she even began to convince herself she didn't like performances. But standing here, surrounded by voices blending together (her own included), hands moving in tandem with the students from Haverbrook...

It was pure. Simple. Surprisingly effortless, really. Evie couldn't help but to feel like she belonged, even if only for a second.

Though just as quickly as the feeling settled, something else pulled Evie out of it. She noticed the way Rachel's eyes kept flickering toward Finn, subtle but expectant—like she was waiting for him to notice her.

But he never did.

His attention wasn't anywhere near Rachel.

Or even Quinn, for that matter—who Finn was still happily, publicly dating, despite the mortifying fact that he was not the father of her unborn child. (A fact that Evie very much knew, even if the boy still didn't.)

No, his eyes were on Evie.

And the brunette did everything in her power not to look back. But when she did—just for a second—his ears tinged pink, his hands faltered in their movements, and then he quickly looked away.

Oh, great.

By the time the final note rang through the choir room, the Haverbrook kids were beaming—some clapping, some signing their applause—and Mr. Schuester was definitely trying not to cry. (Not that Evie could judge. She was potentially the biggest crybaby she'd ever met.)

Scattered cheers and quiet conversations picked up between the students, filling the room with the soft hum of post-performance energy as the New Directions thanked their visitors.

Evie felt a nudge against her arm and turned to find Quinn watching her, something unreadable in her expression.

"What?" the Berry girl asked, tilting her head.

The blonde just shook her head, lips curving into a far too knowing smile. "Nothing. Just nice to see you in here, that's all."

Evie gave a quick, sheepish smile but covered it with an eye roll. "Yeah, well... don't get used to it."

"Sure," Quinn mused with a shrug as she gently rested a hand on her baby bump, clearly not believing her.

Before the brunette could attempt to argue, another voice cut in—this time from behind her.

"You know, technically, you're already doing everything a Glee Club member does," Matti pointed out, appearing at her side with a gentle grin. "You hang out with us, you helped with choreography, you just performed—"

"That wasn't performing," Evie argued, scrunching her nose as she shook her dark ponytail. "That was peer pressure." She smirked. "And a sweet thing to do."

Matti hummed. "Sure, but I didn't have to bribe you to get you to come up and sing with us."

"I think you're being a little dramatic."

Quinn, Matti, and Kurt—who was across the room— all exchanged a look. A very specific, very telling look.

Evie blinked, glancing between them.

Then, when she finally caught onto their thought process, she groaned. "Absolutely not," the Berry girl said immediately, pointing at them. "Nuh uh. No."

Evie dramatically waved them off. "You guys are so annoying." She turned to leave, picking her things up from off the piano, but before she could take a single step out the door, a playful voice called out.

"Be sure to let us know when your audition is," Kurt chimed after her with a wink.

Evie spun back around with a glare. "I—what? That's not—"

But her protests were drowned out by the sound of the choir room doors swinging shut behind her.

⋆. ݁⭒

Evie stood on the scale, back straight, arms loose at her sides, biting the inside of her cheek as she forced herself not to look at the number.

Because it didn't matter—Cheerios were used to this. It had become a subconscious system, something none of the girls even questioned anymore. And, if she was going to be launched fifteen feet into the air by a pack of male cheerleaders, it only made sense to fall into routine, too.

It shouldn't have mattered, anyway.

Even so, as the scale beeped and Sue Sylvester scribbled something onto her clipboard, Evie felt that familiar flicker of relief—like an exhale she hadn't realized she was holding.

The air felt a little thinner. Her heart rate slowed just a bit.

She had dropped.

Evie didn't know by how much (she never let herself look—to save herself from the fear of being disappointed), but she knew.

It was the comforting feeling of her uniform fitting looser, her limbs feeling sharper, and the fact that Sue hadn't said anything—meaning she was still safe.

Another day, another Weigh-In Wednesday survived.

The Berry girl could've sworn she even caught the tiniest flicker of approval in Sue's expression, and honestly? That was enough to fill her confidence for the rest of the day.

"Good, Eve," Sue finally praised, not even looking up. "Sit."

Evie stepped off the scale and took her usual seat across from Sue's desk, legs crossing automatically, fingers tucking neatly under her thighs.

Despite the rush of relief, she still refused to think about the number. She had more important things to focus on—like figuring out why she was even here. Evie hoped, for her sake, that Sue was just about to subject her to another new basket toss that required her to contort mid-air, though, knowing her luck— that likely wasn't the case.

The silence stretched.

Sue was doing that thing—the deliberate, agonizing pause where she stacked papers, shuffled files, adjusted the blinds, did everything except speak first. It was practically a talent at this point with how often the cheer coach managed to do it so effortlessly.

With that in mind, Evie didn't take the bait.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sue looked up, sharp gaze locking onto her. "Do you know what I hate, Eve?"

Evie blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "A lot of things, Coach," she answered with a hint of a smile.

Sue didn't react, which probably wasn't a good sign. Usually, Evie was one of the only people who could crack (at the very least) a small smirk out of the coach, so the fact that she was sitting there, completely poker-faced, was more than a little worrisome.

"I hate betrayal," Sue said.

Oh.

So that's what this was about.

"And lately," she continued, lacing her fingers together, "I've noticed you've been spending a lot of time around the Muppets."

The Berry girl barely resisted the urge to sigh. One thing about Sue Sylvester was that she did not enjoy sharing her Cheerios. Even with the few rare girls that either did an extracurricular outside of the group (namely Evie, who obviously danced outside of cheering) or were on the women's soccer team, it wasn't often the cheerleaders had enough time for anything else anyway so it didn't matter much.

Sue's hatred for the Glee Club was something else entirely. The girls on the soccer team got away with it because at the very least it was still a sport, but if Coach Sylvester caught one of her Cheerios dabbling in the arts, it was over.

That was exactly why Evie was honestly sure she was about to get her ass beat. Not only was she getting involved with the arts recently, but she spent a few good hours helping them.

"Now, I don't blame you entirely," Sue went on, almost sympathetically. "You're a Berry. You can't help the genetic urge to burst into song and prance around like you're in a low-budget Broadway production." The wrinkles on her forehead became more pronounced, a clear hint of disgust in her voice.

Wisely, Evie didn't react beyond raising a single eyebrow.

She was already preparing herself for whatever ridiculous punishment Sue was about to throw at her. If she knew anything from past experiences—ones where she had been forced to run an inhuman number of laps and, for some unknown reason, smell her own armpits twice (not that it was a huge number of times, but odd that it had happened twice)—this probably wasn't going to be good.

"But," Sue carried on, leaning back in her chair, "you're not like your sister. You're charming. You have influence. And unlike most of the sheep in this school, you have a brain."

Evie gave her coach a blank stare.

This was definitely new— Sue Sylvester did not hand out compliments. Ever. And honestly? Hearing one now made Evie feel like the world was ending, and she just hadn't gotten the memo yet.

"With Quinn out of commission playing the new Virgin Mary," Sue rambled, "the head Cheerio position is... in flux."

Evie stiffened slightly. If this was going where she thought it was going, she was about to enter a whole new world of terror.

"I need someone who can lead this team," Coach Sylvester continued, watching the teenager carefully. "Someone who understands how to maintain social dominance while keeping things running smoothly."

The brunette swallowed, almost afraid to even ask the question. "Wait—are you saying you want me to be head Cheerio?"

Sue smirked faintly. "Not so fast, Strawberry Shortcake." She tapped her fingers together, eyes gleaming through her reading glasses. "I'm saying the position is yours to earn."

Evie's stomach twisted, and she wasn't exactly sure why—though there were a few good giveaways.

The first? Quinn Fabray. She should be the one sitting in this chair. Evie had been right there last week, comforting her through the fallout of losing her spot, and now she was supposed to take it? It felt wrong—malicious, even.

The second? This wasn't just any position. There were other girls—Evie's friends, like Santana—who wanted this spot, maybe even more than she did. Taking it felt incredibly unfair.

And the third? Sue Sylvester never just gave anything. There were always strings attached.

"Okay..." Evie started cautiously, carefully weighing her pros and cons. "What do I need to do?" Obviously, the pros ultimately won.

Sue's smirk widened. "The catch is simple: you keep your eyes and ears open. You're already hanging around those Glee Club misfits, so I want you to gather any information that might be... useful to me."

The coach got up, moving toward her filing cabinet—which, instead of containing actual files, was meticulously organized with protein powders and shake supplements.

"Things like their setlists, anyone who is falling apart emotionally—anything I should know about." She dumped a scoop of powder into her shaker, added water, then continued talking like this wasn't the most psychotic job offer of all time.

There it was— the catch. Really, Evie should've seen this coming.

Sue Sylvester's hatred for the Glee Club (or, more specifically, William Schuester) could only be equated to the number of times Wile E. Coyote has tried and failed to kill the Road Runner—she would do literally anything to take them down.

And Evie—who had actual relationships with half of the New Directions—was apparently the perfect muse.

"So... you want me to spy on them?" Evie tilted her head.

"I want you to observe," Sue corrected, tone almost casual. "Destroy their friendships, for all I care. Just get them to trust you and keep me informed. And if you do well, the head Cheerio position is yours. Top of the social ladder. My right-hand man. What do you say?"

The Berry girl hadn't realized she was biting the inside of her cheek so hard until she tasted metal.

There should have been so many reasons to say no. Like, for example, the sheer possibility of getting her first-ever slushie facial (which, honestly, should've been reason enough), or the fact that she'd be lurking behind her friends' backs just like Santana and Brittany had been doing for months.

But there were also many reasons (albeit selfish ones) to say yes.

If Evie took the position, she'd finally get the praise she had been working toward since freshman year. Not to mention the sheer amount of power that came with it.

And speaking of power—Quinn really was gone. The squad had been left without a leader. There was a vacuum.

Evie was sure that if she didn't take the spot, someone else would. Someone worse. And if she was the one in charge? At least she could control things. Keep the girls in check. Keep herself safe (see, selfish, but if that's what she had to tell herself to not feel guilty, she'd do it).

But most of all? She would be on top.

And besides...

Evie had already won today. Her stomach was empty, her limbs were light, and a deliberate, red scolding 'X' hadn't been scratched next to her name.

She could do this.

"Alright," Evie said, slow but sure. "I'll do it. But nothing too shady... my sister is still in that club," she reasoned.

Sue smiled. It was not reassuring. "Good. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." The coach stood, extending a hand across the desk. "Prove yourself, Eve, and the crown is yours."

Evie hesitated for half a second, then reached out, shaking Sue's hand.

And that was that.

As she left the office, her mind was already compartmentalizing. She had agreed to keep Sue off her back, sure, but she wasn't about to betray the Glee Club—at least, not really.

The Glee Club might have been McKinley's kryptonite, but she had friends who loved it. And that was enough for her to at least not want to destroy it like everyone else did.

Evie hoped to God that if she played her cards right—maybe, just maybe—everyone could stay happy, though that was more than likely wishful thinking.

⋆. ݁⭒

"This is insane."

Matti whispered it under her breath as they stepped through the oversized, glass-paneled entrance of Carmel High, her bright blue eyes darting around the spotless corridor like they had just entered enemy territory (which, technically, they had).

"We shouldn't be here," she added quickly, gripping the strap of the purse she made like it was a lifeline.

To be fair, the Hummel girl wasn't entirely wrong—Evie also had no idea what the hell four teenagers were doing thirty minutes outside of Lima, sneaking around a high school that was easily three times the size of McKinley.

Though Kurt had insisted on scoping out the competition (because, apparently, like Evie, the Hairography disaster had traumatized him), arguing that there were better placed to take inspiration from. But there had been a few logistical issues with possible contenders to drag along:

For starters, he clearly couldn't take Matti alone. For as big as a sweetheart at Matilda Hummel was, her crippling anxiety affected the vibe like a virus. When she was five, the blonde skipped kindergarten to join Kurt in the first grade because she was having a breakdown at the thought of attending school alone.

Letting Rachel tag along was a definite no. Sure, she was probably most influenced person about show choir, or stage presence in general (second to Kurt), but she had a terrible way of never being able to stop talking. And for essentially a recon mission, that wasn't the greatest idea.

Otherwise, quite literally no one else in Glee cared enough to come.

So now, here they were—Kurt and Matilda Hummel, dragging along a Berry who wasn't even in the club (Evie), and a bored blonde who was here purely for alibi purposes (Quinn).

"Relax," Kurt hushed, striding ahead with a confidence that was deeply unearned. "We blend in."

Evie blinked at him. "You're wearing a fur-trimmed trench coat and sunglasses indoors."

"It's called assimilation, Evie. Look it up," Kurt said matter-of-factly, shaking his head like it should've been obvious. "You have to be the rich kid to blend in."

Evie stared at him for a long second, then slowly turned to Quinn. "Can I leave?"

"What? No," Quinn answered immediately, scrunching her nose. "If I have to be here, you have to be here."

The Berry girl sighed, already regretting everything. Between this and her deal with Sue Sylvester, it was starting to feel like spying was just her new reality. And if Harriet the Spy taught her anything, it was that lurking around and collecting information about everyone had its consequences.

"Okay, but seriously, what is this place?" Quinn muttered as they walked down the pristine, overly polished hallways.

The entire school smelled clean, which shouldn't have been possible (this was still Ohio, after all). The floors were gleaming marble, the ceilings were high and dramatic, and—Evie swore to God—she was fairly certain the air was lightly scented with vanilla bean and a touch of superiority.

"A high school, duh," Evie said sarcastically, because, obviously, it was more than that.

"No. McKinley is a high school," Quinn corrected, voice dripping with judgment. "This is a Grammy Awards venue."

"I don't trust it," Matti muttered, still scanning the halls like she expected to be caught at any moment. Quinn, noticing her distress, reached out and gently grabbed her forearm. Matti smiled slightly at the small reassurance.

"What do you think is going to happen, Matti?" Evie sighed. "You think they have, like... show choir security?"

"It's Carmel High," Matti hissed. "You don't know what they're capable of."

"She's right," Kurt said gravely. "These people don't mess around. Their quarterly funding is higher than our entire school budget."

Evie's eyebrows shot up. "Quarterly?"

Wow, these pretentious assholes.

"Quarterly," Kurt confirmed with a sharp nod. "And apparently," he continued, voice lowering conspiratorially, "their director puts Black Widow venom into their water for increased hyperactivity."

Evie snorted way too loud, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth. "You can't be serious," she whispered, still stifling laughter.

Kurt, entirely unfazed, just kept walking. "Don't underestimate them," he warned. "They're like Nazis."

By the time they reached the auditorium doors, he placed a dramatic hand on the handle, then slowly—deliberately—pulled it open.

"Let's see what they got."

⋆. ݁⭒

The four of them slipped inside without a sound, the three girls filing in single file behind Kurt, fingers interlocked as they took seats in the very back row. Evie may have joked before, but really—was this actually legal?

And at first glance, she was able to clock two things.

One: Carmel High's auditorium was absolutely ridiculous.

The velvet seats alone looked like they cost more than McKinley's entire arts program— which was probably true considering all of the money poured into the Cheerios, but Evie wasn't one to complain (especially when she got to experience the Cheerios budget firsthand). The stage lights were blinding, shining down on the performers like this was the damn Super Bowl.

Two: Kurt and his so-called recon team were about to march straight back to McKinley and report that they were, in fact, completely screwed.

Because even though Vocal Adrenaline hadn't even started yet, just watching them line up on stage was terrifying.

It wasn't even just the sheer number of them (seriously though, why were there so many?). It was the way they moved—sharp, synchronized, so well-rehearsed it was almost robotic.

Evie was living the dancer's dream in real time—she couldn't take her eyes off their pointed toes and perfectly executed practice lifts—but instead of performing (like she would rather be), she was about to witness a mass murder.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Yeah, you guys are so screwed."

"Evie," Matti hissed, elbowing her.

"What?" She gestured at the stage, her tone obvious and dragged on. "Don't get me wrong, you guys are great, but they haven't even started, and I already know they could wipe the floor with you."

Evie didn't even try to keep her voice down. Maybe Rachel wouldn't have been a so bad first choice.

But truth be told, the raven-haired girl was so glad she wasn't in the club yet. At least she'd be spared the secondhand embarrassment her three companions were about to experience.

Kurt made a dramatic sound of deep offense, already gearing up for a rebuttal when the music cut him off. The bass spilled out of the speakers, shaking the entire auditorium.

The Berry girl wasn't sure what was considered bold for a show choir since she was hardly acquainted, but even she had to admit she was impressed when the first beats of Crazy Train blasted through the auditorium. To her, show choir gave the vibe of songs from musicals or pop songs, not 80's era heavy metal.

She couldn't say she didn't enjoy it thought as pairs of dancers waltzed across the stage, seamlessly singing background harmonies. Evie learned forward to check and make sure Matti was still breathing, and further, if Kurt was in tears yet.

"We suck," Kurt pouted, taking off his sunglasses like the gig was up.

Evie snorted, letting her attention fall back into the masterpiece in front of her. That was, until the lead singer (or at least, that's who Evie assumed he was) stepped forward, exuding effortless, unfair levels of confidence.

And then—

Curly, undeniably attractive brunette hair. A ridiculously good voice. Bright, strikingly familiar eyes. Stage presence of a superstar.

Just like that—

Evie's stomach dropped straight to the floor. Her hands clenched the armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

This had to be a joke. A sick, twisted, universe-level joke. Evie had no choice but to assume this was God getting back at her for whatever bad decision she'd made recently.

Because what in the actual fuck was her summer fling doing here, and why was he on stage, singing lead for her rival school's show choir? The show choir she was literally being forced to join?

Like, sure, maybe it hadn't come up—flings weren't exactly built on deep, meaningful conversations (even though they definitely had a few). But this? This was ridiculous.

But here she was. Or here they were, really.

Nevertheless, Jesse St. James—the guy who had spent a whole month tangled up with her last summer, the guy who had kissed her breathless on the hood of his car, the guy who she absolutely was not supposed to ever see again—was currently leading the most terrifying show choir in the country.

Evie swallowed hard, willing herself to look anywhere but at him—except it was too late. As if the audible noise that escaped her mouth was anything else but obvious, because Jesse's gaze snapped to hers, mid-performance.

And for a split second, she saw it. It was clear— the exact same shock she was feeling was written on his painfully beautiful face.

Perfect, way to go, dumbass. You caught his attention, Evie internally cussed herself out.

Though, to his credit, Jesse barely faltered (while Evie was over here experiencing a full existential crisis, and he was just casually nailing his choreo like nothing happened, definitely not a show-off at all). His focus immediately shifted back to the routine, his voice still strong and his confidence barely wavered.

The partner Jesse danced with, who also exerted the same amount of ego, seemed to have noticed the interaction, too, because Evie could have sworn she saw the beautiful dark-skinned girl laugh.

The brunette sucked in a breath, eyes snapping away from
him, jaw locked. No. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not doing this.

To top it off, just as she felt nothing could get worse, Evie could feel Quinn watching her.

"Evie," the blonde murmured, leaning closer and face etched with concern. "Are you okay? Why do you look like you're about to throw up?"

"I don't," Evie said immediately. Which, in hindsight, was a terrible way to sound normal and unsuspicious.

Quinn blinked. "You definitely do."

Evie kept her eyes trained dead ahead, refusing to acknowledge the existence of Jesse St. James, or the fact that he was currently on stage, performing flawlessly, commanding the entire room.

Like he always did. Ugh, the man that he was. Evie needed to get out of there immediately before she found herself (regrettably) staring at him longer.

"Eves," Quinn pressed, voice dipping lower. "Do you know him?"

The Berry girl scoffed, still not looking at her. "I don't."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"No, I'm not," Evie shot back too fast.

The Fabray gave her a look. A torturous, pressing, she knew exactly what she was doing, look. "Evangeline."

Evie exhaled sharply, finally turning her head just enough to hiss, "Would you drop it?"

Quinn's lips parted slightly, about to argue, but she promptly snapped her lips shut after her questions were indefinitely answered.

Jesse made direct eye contact.

Evie took her statement back of things getting worse, because nothing was as bad before as it was now. The St. James boy smirked. It was small— nearly undetectable, but absolutely purposeful.

The raven-haired girl nearly blacked out. Her stomach flipped, her hands clenched even tighter, and she could actually feel her soul trying to leave her body.

Because Jesse's smirk?

It was not an innocent, casual 'hey, small world!' kind of smirk. That was a taunting, 'oh-I-am-going-to-have-so-much-fun-with-this,' signature Jesse St. James smirk.

Truly, Evie could actually kill him.

Of course Jesse—the absolute menace—only escalated the entire situation. Because instead of ignoring her like a normal person, he tilted his head just slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise, like:

Oh? You? Here? Watching me? How interesting.

Evie hated him. Absolutely despised him.

Ultimately, and the finality of the worst parts, was that Quinn hadn't let it slide. The second the Berry girl had started acting weird, she made an effort to pay extra attention to whatever was going on.

And because she, too, was a menace—she gasped dramatically. "Oh my God, you don't just know him," the blonde paused in realization. "You really know him," she said, dragging out the really for maximum effect.

Evie groaned, grabbing Quinn's wrist and yanking her up (gently, she was a mother after all). "Okay!" The Berry announced in a loud whisper that was sudden, and way too cheerfully. "We're leaving now."

Matti blinked, startled. Apparently, the Hummel siblings had been completely oblivious this entire time (whether that was good or bad for Evie, she wasn't sure).

"What? We just got here."

"Yep! And now we're going!" Evie grabbed Matti's wrist, yanking her up, too. "Kurt, move."

"Evie, do you know how—"

"Do you want to live?"

Kurt immediately stood up. "Ooo-kay."

With that, Evie practically dragged all three of them out of the auditorium, moving so fast and so aggressively that Jesse wouldn't even have time to think about tracking her down after his rehearsal.

Because this?

This was not happening.

Not today. Not ever.

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DEE SPEAKS !

evie when she's like 3 seconds away from killing quinn lol
also her when she's trying so hard to hate the glee club even tho everyone knows but her

also i really am excited to show evie's arc with her eating and how it affects her and her relationships and her mental image. i'm trying to write this with grace because i know how easily things like this can get romanticized or are over all just not treated with care so i definitely want to get the the point across that if anything is ever inaccurate or doesn't seem to feel right, please let me know.

anyways, i hope that wasn't too bad! i thought this chapter was kinda funny but i don't know if i do dramatic well so it may have been total shite

also you get your first sliver of a jesse interaction yayyy! and he's such a little shit wbk

thoughts? opinions? favorite colors?

from the trenches,
dee 😋