Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

A/N: This is set some time in the near future. (January or February.) Enjoy!



I hadn't expected life to turn out this way. Shivering on the steps of my high school at midnight on a Saturday was never part of my plan. But neither was any of this – sleeping with Puck, getting pregnant at sixteen, having to choose between my boyfriend and my baby's father – none of this was planned. Nevertheless, I was here now. I couldn't manage staying at Finn's house for another second, so I had simply walked out.

Everything about that house was suffocating: the sad, tired way Mrs. Hudson looked at me when she thought I wouldn't notice; the painfully awkward silence that draped over the room whenever the subject of the baby came up; the rush of embarrassment whenever the Hudsons paid for my meals or maternity clothes. It was all too much. I hated depending on Finn for basic necessities like a hot meal and a bed. I hated dragging him – still a virgin – through this mess into fatherhood, paying for a mistake he never made. Whenever I thought about it, my throat constricted and pressure built up behind my eyes. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I packed a few clothes into a duffle bag and left.

At first, I just wanted to walk. The streets were dimly lit with flickering lights, just bright enough to make out street signs through the darkness. I wandered for close to an hour. I might have been walking in circles, but I was too bitter to care – I was going to be stuck in Lima forever, I might as well start now. Eventually, I recognized the looming shape of McKinley High School in front of me. Grateful to see a familiar sight, I immediately sat down on the front steps. I was alone, with nowhere to go.

It's starting to snow now. Thin white flakes drift downwards from the gloomy sky. I shiver in the thin letter jacket Finn gave me. It's the only coat big enough to fit across my stomach and I'm in no position to refuse, even if I do have to roll the sleeves up twice. I pull my duffel bag under the overhang of the school's roof and sit on it, trying to keep warm. Obviously, I can't sit here forever. If I sleep in the snow, I could literally freeze to death. The baby could die. Can fetuses get frostbite? I don't want to find out.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and begin scrolling through my contacts. Brittany was the first one in my phonebook. She was a Cheerio – I couldn't call her. Daddy was my next contact. I paused, my finger thumb hovering over the call button. No, I told myself sternly. He kicked me out. I don't need his help. Finn was next, and there was no way I could call him after sneaking out of his house in the middle of the night. I continued scrolling through the list of names, names of my so-called "friends." Puck... Rachel... Santana... Rachel was probably getting her regimented ten hours of beauty sleep or practicing facial expressions in front of a mirror or imagining herself as Maria in West Side Story. I don't even want to think about what Puck and Santana are up to. There's only one more name in my contacts – Schue. Mr. Schue had given us his cell phone number before Sectionals so we could call him in case of an emergency.

"Call me whenever you need help," he had said.

Homeless, pregnant, nowhere to go – I think this counts as an emergency. I wouldn't normally consider calling Mr. Schue for help, especially at this hour, but I had nobody else to turn to. Without giving myself a chance to lose my nerve, I wiped away a single tear and pressed the call button.

The phone rang six times, each trill drilling fear into my stomach. What if he didn't pick up? My heart thumped, beating against where Finn's name was embroidered in white script on his jacket. On the sixth ring, the sound tripped and Mr. Schue's voice pounded into my ear.

"Hello?" he answered groggily.

I took a deep breath, elbows propped on my knees. Frozen.

"Hello?" he repeated, a note of annoyance lingering in his voice. "Anyone there?"

This was my chance. My only chance.

"Mr. Schue, it's Quinn," I said softly.

There was a short pause.

"Quinn Fabray," I clarified. "From Glee."

"Quinn, it's past midnight. What's wrong?" he asked, his voice rising in alarm.

"I... I think I need a ride," I ventured.

I didn't have a plan. There's no script for this, the way there is in Glee. In Glee, everything is written out nicely and everyone has a copy of the script – everyone is on the same page. Life isn't like that. We're all reading from different scripts and all the melodies clash.

"A ride," he repeated. "Are you okay?"

I hesitate. "No. I'm not okay. I'm not staying with Finn anymore. I can't go home, either. I just need somewhere to stay until I figure this all out," I admit.

Mr. Schue is silent on the other end of the phone. It occurs to me that I just asked to stay with him. If he thinks I'm acting out of line, he doesn't mention it.

"Where are you?" he asks. "I'm coming to get you right now."


A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated. :)