My name is Quinn Fabray. Have you ever heard that name before? If you have, I guess that means you once lived in the hopeless abyss we all call Lima, Ohio. Or maybe you still live there? It's possible. It's also possible that there are many, many other Quinn Fabrays in the world…but I don't like to think that. I like to picture myself as unique. Different. Special.

It's not that I'm conceited – that's just the way I was raised to believe in myself. Not by my mother's hand, but rather under the tutelage of a certain McKinley High teacher named Mr. William Schuester. I was a part of the glee club, along with many other shining lives Mr. Schuester helped to shape – but that's part of another story. One that's written by far more hands than just mine. The fable I give you today is my special story.

It's also a story about a girl. Two girls, actually. And it's also a tale about love.

Years ago, I was a student of Yale. My best friend at the time was educating herself at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. She was called Rachel Berry, and she was my shining golden star. She was happy and bubbly and obnoxious and nice, and she was the prettiest hidden diamond of all of Lima, Ohio. We had gone to McKinley together, sang in the glee club side by side, and once we had been bitter rivals. It's a strange feeling, to hate someone's guts but love everything about them at the same time. It sometimes leads you to treat someone with such a despicable amount of disrespect that you learn to hate yourself as well. To be fair to my old self, I had several reasons to 'hate' Rachel Berry.

In high school, I had the dreamy quarterback boyfriend who would, in time, become the love of Rachel Berry's life. I had the thin, pressured, bottled-blonde cheerleader look, while Rachel Berry walked the hallways in her adorable animal sweaters and bright, sparkling eyes full of hope and optimism. I had the unwanted baby in my stomach, while Rachel Berry stole my boyfriend away and grew and grew into the star that she was destined to be. For a while, I was sure I'd never make it out of that small town, dead or alive. But for some reason, this girl who should have hated me as much as I hated and loved her decided to help me. She helped me see the error of my ways, and I realised what sort of a friendship I had been missing out on. The only thing you should plausibly hate about Rachel is that she sometimes talks too much until her toenails reach the back of her throat. Otherwise, she has the gentlest, warmest heart of anyone I have ever known.

Of anyone I ever will know, actually.

Once we both left Lima behind, we visited each other frequently. I remember I used to rush home after every weekend and squibble down our shenanigans in this little pink notebook my mother had gotten me for some Christmas long ago. I used to keep pictures of us as my phone background, and whenever I had to change it, I would transfer them to my laptop and save them in hidden folders. I felt like Rachel Berry was my dirty little secret. I wanted to keep her just for me, to exhaust her of every drop of her sunshine until it filled me up and overflowed onto my outsides; until she saw that I could be as golden as her, and she could love me too. That's why I so keenly remember the Saturday a year or so into our respective studies when she told me about her new boyfriend.

We were walking down the street licking at cones fresh from Big Dip when she suddenly clutched at my arm, her face overtaken with a bright inner glow. She had seemed distracted our whole visit, much to my silent disappointment, and I thought rather smugly that I was finally going to learn why. It was nice, knowing that Rachel Berry felt that she could tell me anything and everything.

"Quinn," she said a little dazedly, "can you keep a secret?"

"Can I?" I drawled. "I think I had the most practice in secret-keeping within our whole group…but what is it, Rachel? Spit it out."

There was an uncertain flicker in her eyes that I caught as soon as it appeared, and one eyebrow stretched up my forehead.

"Who do you think I'm going to tell? My mum?" I joked. The humorous quip hit its spot and she instantly relaxed and laughed.

"No…well…I don't know. But you have to keep it a secret, alright? Just between you and me?"

"You have my word," I said a little exasperatedly. Her hand was still on my arm, almost linked around it, and my heart sighed. If only she knew…

"I have a new boyfriend," she leaned in close to hiss. A corner of my mouth twitched rather viciously, but fortunately it was the side turned away from her.

"A boyfriend?" I repeated rather blankly. "Rachel, aren't you a little…busy for that?"

NYADA was working towards a recital in September, and I had been practically babbling about it to my friends at Yale, wanting them to witness the glory that was Rachel Berry up close and personal. I felt savagely betrayed for no reason at all, as if she had forgotten to tell me the recital had been cancelled or something. Evidently Rachel herself sensed that something was up, since my reply hadn't been the level of happy she'd expected.

"Busy?" she echoed, a little puzzled. "I mean…I am working hard for the recital, you know that…but is anyone ever really too busy for a – for a little romance?"

Oh joy, I thought dully. I hadn't seen this side of Rachel since she had tried to marry Finn Hudson upon graduation.

"I just think that you should focus on your dreams and ambitions first," I drew out evenly. "You know how distracting boys can get, Rachel – and I don't want you going through what I went through."

"You haven't even asked what he's like," my friend whined, the icecream dripping down the cone as she held it unheedingly. "He would never distract me from my dreams. He supports me so much!"

"And what about Finn?" I retorted freezingly. "Weren't you two supposed to find your way back to each other?"

Hurt pooled out over her face and I hated myself for it. I turned, haphazardly holding my own cone from dripping into my hair, and fastened my hand around one of Rachel's. Looking dead into her eyes, I said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm happy for you – I really am."

But I wasn't. When I took the train back to my dorm, it took everything I had not to start crying. As it was, my eyes turned a little pink anyway, and people glanced at me uncomfortably, like I was about to suddenly stand up and vent out all my woes to them. When I went to bed that night, I was horribly bitter and even considered deleting all the pictures I had of Rachel and I. I'm glad I didn't go through with that. That would've made me hate myself even more.

In time, I learnt a lot about this guy Rachel was seeing. His name was Daniel. He was a couple of years older than her. He evidently looked like Emile Hirsch. He could sing like Adam Pascal. He had the charm of an American Puss in Boots. He was just as talented as she was. I unconsciously lined this all up with my attributes. Quinn didn't sound as dashing as Daniel. What if Rachel liked her beaus older? Someone had once told me I looked like Rosie O'Donnell from the View. I was hardly the best singer. The only charm I had was pretty fake. I was nowhere near as talented as Rachel Berry.

Let's face it – in comparison to Daniel the Perfect, I was a complete loser.

I could've done a variety of things to ruin this budding relationship. I could've written to Finn Hudson, her old high school sweetheart serving in the military, and worked with him to bring her back into his arms, and maybe closer to mine. I could've met Daniel the Perfect one on one and told him to back off. Maybe lied about her a bit. Maybe I could've lied about him to Rachel. I was capable of all those things, and even more so of carrying them through without a conscience. But the whole point of my beautiful friendship with Rachel Berry was that she would always expect more of me than I did of myself. I couldn't let her down like that. If I was going to do anything, I was going to do it honourably.

So, like a pathetic white knight from a long-forgotten fairytale, I hitched up my mare, drew out my lance, and erupted forth to win the affections of the bright gold star of Lima, Ohio.

My beautiful, beautiful,

winsome and wonderful

Rachel Barbra Berry.