Initiation
"Get to it, Berry," Quinn said.
"Guys! This isn't okay! Please don't make me do this!"
"You're the one who came to us, Berry," Santana said. "You begged to be off the loser list—this is your initiation. The price you paid for that uniform. So go!"
"I don't want to go to prison for misuse of vegetables!"
Santana snorted and Quinn had to stifle a laugh.
"Seriously? That's what you think they'd charge you with?" the blonde asked. "Not criminal mischief or vandalism, oh no! They'd go straight for misuse of vegetables."
"That's not funny and not helping!" Rachel hissed. "I'm destined for bright lights, the stage, applause! I can't have this tarnish my record."
Santana looked at her for a long moment. "Fine, Berry. I'll give you a choice then. This, or you can sleep with me and Q."
Rachel stared at them for what seemed like an hour. She took in Santana's smirk, and the slightly evil glee in Quinn's eyes. "Forget it," she said, dropping the vegetables.
"What?"
"No. I'll stay on the loser list, if this is what being popular takes. Because you know something? I would've. I would've gone against everything I've planned and decided for myself and slept with the two of you. Feel free to use that against me next week at school. I know you will anyway. I would've enjoyed feeling wanted, and loved, even if it was brief. Even if I knew you'd just kick me out like trash after it was over. And if I stay here any longer, I won't be able to say no. I'll know I don't want it, and you'll know too, but it'll happen. So I'm going home."
"Rachel—"
"Don't, Quinn. Goodbye."