A/N: My writing abilities are rusty, so this was more or less a little something to get myself back in the grind.

Rachel looked up from her spot by the wall when she heard giggling. Brittany and Santana were being led to the dance floor by two football players—Michael and Matthew, she believed were their names—and Quinn was left alone at the table.

This was it.

She handed her drink to whoever was closest—she thought it may have been that weird boy, Jacob Ben Israel—and straightened out the invisible crinkles in her dress. She took a deep breath and walked forward.

Quinn watched with a sad smile as a crowd formed around her friends and cheered their dance on. She sighed and looked around at her empty table. She did a double-take when she saw who was walking towards her and a grin formed on her lips.

Rachel's heartbeat picked up at the look on the girl's face. She couldn't believe it! Quinn was smiling at her! She quickened her pace as the table came nearer and nearer.

Quinn shyly ducked her head and looked up through her lashes. "Hi."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat.

"Hey." Finn Hudson walked around and in front of Rachel and sat next to Quinn. "So, you wanna dance?" he asked as he attempted to casually throw his arm over her shoulder.

Rachel's heart shattered. She took a deep breath to ensure she wouldn't cry and abruptly turned on her heel. She didn't think this night could get any worse.

"Hey, Berry!"

She made the mistake of looking up and her eyes widened at the cup of punch in the football player's hand. Surely he wouldn't actually throw a drink on her—

"Heads up, freak!"

She clenched her eyes shut as the red liquid flew out of the cup and onto her face.

She vaguely heard a gasp coming from the table behind her, but she wasn't sure because the students not entranced by Brittany S. Pierce's dance moves were too busy laughing loudly at her.

Rachel wiped at her eyes and slowly opened them. Tears started to mix with the red drink as she looked around in humiliation at the pointing and laughing. She bolted out of the gymnasium and towards the nearest bathroom.

She threw open the door and ran to the sink. She turned the faucet on and lowered her head to splash water on her face. She looked up at the mirror and whimpered at the sight.

The front of her dress was ruined.

She grabbed paper towels and attempted to salvage her dress. She groaned in frustration and threw the towels in the sink. She tried to calm down and regain control of her breathing. She attempted to focus on anything else. Her eyes caught sight of a hastily drawn stick figure done with sharpie on the wall next to the mirror; she tried to center on that to get her mind off of things.

Stupid dance.

Stupid Karofsky and his stupid drink.

Stupid Finn—

She slid down to the floor and cradled her head in her arms as the realization dawned on her. She bit her lip to stifle her cries.

She didn't even get to ask Quinn for one dance.

The door opened. "Rachel?"

Rachel's eyes snapped upwards and she flushed in embarrassment as the object of her affections tentatively walked in the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" Quinn rolled her eyes at herself and muttered, "What am I saying? Of course you're not okay."

Rachel quickly got back on her feet. "N-no! I am! I'm fine, Quinn! It's just a little punch. No harm done…" She trailed off at the look on the Quinn's face. She sighed in defeat and turned back at the mirror to study the damage. Her eyes started to tear up again when she mumbled, "I don't know what to do."

Quinn watched Rachel for a second before grabbing a paper towel. She wet it under the faucet and turned towards the other girl.

Rachel looked on in disbelief as Quinn attempted to save her dress. She focused on Quinn's face as she concentrated on removing the stain.

"There," Quinn murmured, "the stain's not too noticeable." She surveyed the dress. "I mean, at least you're wearing red. And now it's not so sticky anymore. You'll just have to put it in the wash as soon as you get home." She threw the paper towels into the garbage and turned back to Rachel. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Rachel blushed under Quinn's scrutiny. "Yes. I'm fine. I was just… shocked that someone would even have the audacity to throw a beverage in another person's face. Especially a person who has never done anything to them. I mean, really? What type of barbaric behavior—"

Quinn quirked her lips up and she interrupted her, "You kinda ramble."

Rachel's mouth snapped shut. "I-I'm sorry. It tends to happen when I'm nervous."

"I make you nervous?"

"W-well, you're a very pretty girl, Quinn. Your looks alone can make anyone feel inadequate."

Quinn frowned.

Rachel cautiously put her hand on the other girl's shoulder. "But… I can tell you're a lot more than your looks."

Quinn shyly looked away from the intense brown eyes and murmured a thank you.

Rachel beamed before silence took over the bathroom.

Quinn cleared her throat. "Well, I'll just be…" She nodded towards the door.

"Oh, yes! Of course. Surely your friends are wondering where you are. And I bet there are tons of boys just waiting to ask you to dance…" Rachel trailed off with a frown as Quinn walked towards the door. "Wait!"

The cheerleader turned around with an expectant look.

Rachel sputtered. "Would you… I mean. Before you go back out there, can we—What I mean to say is," she blushed and blurted out, "may I have this dance?"

Quinn tilted her head to the side.

Rachel slapped her forehead in embarrassment. "I'm sorry! It's just that—I mean, well, I've been wanting to ask you for just one dance and I totally understand if you say no and think it's a stupid idea. Actually, what am I even saying? It is a stupid idea! Forget I even said anything!"

The music from the gymnasium could be heard through the walls, and a small smile formed on Quinn's face. She chuckled and walked back towards Rachel.

Rachel watched with wide eyes as she came closer. She gulped as slender arms wrapped around her neck and "I'd love to dance with you" was whispered in her ear.

Quinn giggled at the still girl. She grabbed Rachel's hands and set them on the small of her back. She returned her own hands to their previous position and started swaying them to the music through the walls.

Rachel's cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She tightened her hold when she felt Quinn sigh in contentment.

She finally got the girl—

"Yo, Q! You in here?" Santana yelled on the other side of the door before pushing it open.

Rachel shook her head in confusion as the girl that was just in her arms now stood feet away from her.

Quinn flushed and fidgeted at the sink.

Santana raised an eyebrow at the two occupants. Brittany popped up behind her and grinned.

"What are you doing in here with Treasure Trail?" Santana asked suspiciously. "We don't associate with her kind."

At Quinn's silence, Rachel piped up, "Nothing. Quinn was washing her hands when I came in here to wipe off some punch David threw at me."

Santana's mouth twitched in amusement as she surveyed Rachel's dress. "Well," she started while she walked to the nearest mirror to ensure her hair was still in place, "think of it as an improvement for that disaster you're wearing." She eyed Rachel through the mirror in distaste before turning to Quinn, "Right, Q?"

Quinn looked up from her sudden interest in her nail polish. She bit her lip before looking between Rachel and Santana. At the expectant expression on her friend's face, she rolled her eyes and sighed, "If we're going to talk about a disaster, what do you call what you're wearing, S? I'm surprised they even let you in with how short that thing is."

Santana laughed and shoved Quinn's shoulder. "Fuck you, Fabray."

Rachel silently watched the exchange. Normally Quinn was impassive to the bullying she received. Sure, she didn't stop it from happening, but she didn't outright partake in it. Yes, there was teasing here and there these past few months of freshman year, but it almost seemed as if it were flirting in Rachel's opinion. And the fact she turned Santana's attention from her had to mean something, right?

Brittany stifled a giggle and grabbed both cheerleaders' hands. "Come on, let's go back out there! Rachel's hurting my eyes." The three girls walked out of the bathroom without a single glance back.

Rachel watched longingly as Quinn followed her friends out the door, and she silently begged her to look back and give her a sign. But when none came, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and looked in the mirror Santana had just vacated. She didn't think her dress was ugly. Her daddy may not have a keen fashion sense, but he was excited to help her find something to wear. And her papa had said she looked beautiful. Quinn didn't even seem too put out when she was helping her clean up.

She pushed away from the sink with a sigh and headed out the bathroom door. She did not understand how Quinn could go from being so warm and accommodating one second to outright ignoring her the next. Did Quinn only dance with her out of pity? It didn't seem like a pity dance with the way Quinn's grip tightened around her. If it wasn't an elaborate prank or done out of pity, then surely that must mean something. She was so confused.

She was even more confused at the sight she saw when she stopped outside the doors of the gymnasium and peered inside. She whimpered and shook her head. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

As she walked down the hallway towards the exit, Quinn was back at the dance being spun around by Finn.

"Daddy? Can you come pick me up?"

It was the start of sophomore year, and Rachel was determined. She was going to take the school by storm.

She had spent the majority of the summer perfecting her vocal skills and posting videos on Myspace. She couldn't quell her excitement when she had gotten a friend request from Quinn halfway through July. She tried not to have a spark of hope after the dance, but a tiny part of her lit up as she clicked on the "accept" button. She couldn't help it; she was curious by nature.

If only she had known that clicking that button would mean dousing that spark in a tidal wave.

She didn't know why she kept expecting SkySplitz to actually leave a descent comment on her videos; however, each time she got a new notification and a new insult, the spark that was dampened slowly but surely started to wither away until there was nothing there.

Every time Quinn uploaded a new picture with the cheer squad or made a status about hanging out with Santana, the snarkier and obsessively crueler she became towards Rachel. She was unsure why Quinn took such a dramatic turn or why she let herself become influenced by those girls, but she took it in stride. Rachel remained impassive and refused to delete the comments.

When she becomes famous and gets interviewed by Oprah Winfrey, she'll speak about the bullying and say it prepared her for the harsh world of showbiz.

At least, that's what she told herself when her cursor hovered over the "delete" button on Quinn's comment before sighing and scrolling back up the page.

Maybe it was some sick satisfaction that the most popular girl in school that she once had a crush on was constantly viewing and commenting on her videos that made her unable to delete them. After all, it had to mean something that like clockwork, Quinn would usually post a comment right after Rachel uploaded them, right? And add to it, she only seemed to specifically target her when she was with other Cheerios because there were those few times when a video would get a view, but no reply. It was during those times that Quinn would post a bulletin on Myspace about staying in for the night to complete the summer reading she had to do for an AP English class.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and come to the conclusion that Quinn Fabray was a victim of peer-pressure.

But each time it happened, Rachel had to remind herself about the dialogue she had tucked in her desk drawer for when Oprah inevitably interviewed her. Haters helped shape you, and that's all Quinn was nowadays.

She couldn't afford to think of her as anything else. She was done making excuses; she had to stop looking into hidden meanings that may or may not be there. Even if Quinn was just giving in to peer-pressure, Rachel's heart couldn't take it if she continued to make excuses for the girl.

So she walked into school the first day of sophomore year with determination. First on her agenda was to talk to Mr. Ryerson about the glee club; it was unfair that that Hank kid got all of the leads. She obviously wasn't homophobic or anything, but she read the email Mr. Ryerson sent out a week before school started with a list of songs they were going to practice. Hank was singing front and center for all of them, and what else could she do but come to the conclusion that there was something suspicious happening there? After all, this kid wasn't even that good of a singer.

A familiar giggle to Rachel's left caught her attention and she felt her stomach drop. She turned her head to the noise, and slumped at what she saw.

Quinn was leaning against a locker in her Cheerios uniform as Finn Hudson blushed. He scuffed his shoe against the floor and shrugged his shoulders. Quinn rolled her eyes and happened to land her gaze on Rachel.

They held contact for a few seconds before it was broken by Finn taking Quinn's books with his right hand and offering her his left. She glanced back at Rachel real quick before plastering on a grin and taking hold of his hand. They walked down the hall past her, and Rachel willed herself to look away from their retreating forms.

She straightened out her posture. She couldn't think about stuff like that. This was her year. She was going to take the school by storm! She took a deep breath and put on a mega-watt smile.

Only for it to be wiped off her face as a freezing and sticky substance was tossed at her.

"Welcome back, freak!" Azimio high-fived Noah Puckerman before chucking the Big Quench cup in a nearby trashcan.

Rachel rubbed at her eyes to clear her vision of the ice-cold drink and of her tears before pushing through the laughing crowd to get to the restroom.

Later on, when the bell would ring for the first class of the day and she was still rinsing off her sweater vest in the sink, she would wipe at her eyes and tell herself they were watering because of slushie residue.

And not because she happened to see a faded stick figure drawn in sharpie next to the mirror and realize she was in the very same bathroom Quinn danced with her in.