Title:(I Think) I'm On the Bright Side
Author: SVZ
Fandom: Glee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Around 8350.
Pairings/Characters: Background Tina/Mike. Quinndependence. Mercedes/Quinn, Tina/Quinn, and Rachel/Quinn friendships.
Warning/Spoilers: Spoilers for all of S2 and previews of S3. Very light references to body images/self-esteem problems.
Disclamer: I don't own Glee.
Summary: Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love made finding yourself look glamorous. Quinn's reality: working at an ice cream shop while customers talked trash about her behind her back, a male co-worker who won't take a hint, and jackass manager. It was definitely several steps down from vacationing in Bali.
Author's Note:This is an entirely self-indulgent Quinn Fabray character study fic that I wrote because I wanted to explore her character (her and Lucy). We kept seeing promising flashes of feminist!Quinn that just never went anywhere and I wanted to fix that. Plus, Quinndependence would be the best thing ever.

(I Think) I'm On the Bright Side

I think I'm on the bright side
Got my hair cut short, I do my class report on time
I hope I'm on the bright side
What beauty is today is a fake from what's inside
Meg & Dia– "The Last Great Star in Hollywood"

When the last of her exams were over and junior year drew to a close, Quinn realized with no small amount of discomfort that she had no summer plans - none.

Last summer had passed in a haze; Quinn felt like she could only remember bits and pieces of it. And only if she tried hard, her memories dim, but she remembered the overbearing feeling of loneliness.

Because what she did remember was unpleasant, she had little desire dwelling on the past.

Summer 2010 would always been associated with her parents' divorce and her own attempts to get herself back to where she was before.

There had been endless angry voice messages on the answering machine, uncomfortably pointed questions from her parents' lawyers, and official divorce papers that made the separation between her mom and dad official. The latter had earned the disapproval from their church and both sides of their families.

Even though everything had been inevitable, it had sucked.

Her sister was married and had been living a state away – at that point, it had been months since she had even spoken to Frannie (and Frannie never tried to contact her), she had no one to turn to.

Without a buffer, she had been the one caught in the middle of all the tension between her parents; between her mom's feeble attempts to tell her that things were going to be fine (and her dad's steadfast refusal to acknowledge her)… to say it was a stressful summer would be an understatement.

Consequently, Quinn had spent most of last summer out of the house; avoiding everyone she could. Not that many people were actively seeking her out.

Apparently, being a teen mom made her into a permanent social pariah even after Mrs. Corcoran took Beth, but she hadn't minded the temporary quiet it provided.

It had been temporary, after all.

Because if it was one thing Quinn Fabray knew how to do, it was to get the entire school back to worshiping the very ground she walked on: she had been dead-set on getting her life back come September. In order to do just that, she had to get her old position back on the squad.

That summer, most of her energy had been focused on getting herself back into shape for Cheerio try-outs in the fall. She'd ran miles every day and lifted weights (lightweights, she couldn't bulk up), counted calories, and bought as many over-the-counter stretch mark creams she could find at the corner drugstore.

She made Lucy's ghost disappear with ruthless efficiency, terrified of the day she would wake up and find Lucy staring back at her in the mirror. Same old nose, mousy hair, pounds that made her middle school years a misery.

Cheerleading had been the solution; to make sure that she wouldn't slip back to who she was and despised.

To ensure that she hadn't lost her touch, Quinn had even helped coached a preteen cheerleading camp at out of state for three weeks.

The minute that the camp coordinators had read her resume (Head Cheerleader, McKinley High's Cheerios) they had called her up and practically begged her to take the job; they even paid for her transportation to camp.

If she wanted to, Quinn supposed she could call them up again. The pay had been good (she secretly suspected that they were paying her more than really should have). Camp Cheer would gladly fire two senior coaches for her; even if she was only a high school student.

But since quitting the Cheerios, she hadn't felt like performing cheers. It didn't feel right: not when she could remember the final ultimatum that Coach Sylvester had given her back in February and Finn's self-righteous speech.

She still missed the rush of adrenaline that came with a well-executed back tuck, but the idea of standing under the hot sun and coaching small preteens on pike jumps held little appeal.

She remembered the words Coach Sylvester had said in her office ("You remind me of a young Sue Sylvester …") and how it had been a compliment back then.

She wanted nothing to be like Coach Sylvester if she could help it.

In the end, Quinn filled out all the local job applications she could find.

Then she signed up for a couple of summer classes at the local community college to pass the time.

The first couple of weeks Quinn cold-called offices and stores and got absolutely nowhere.

No one called back.

A couple of the local mom and pop store-owners (parents of students at McKinley) had took one look at her - and Quinn saw the spark of recognition in their eyes when they realized exactly who she was; their eyes flickering down to front of her stomach ever so slightly, before they told her they weren't hiring despite the fliers on the storefront that stated otherwise.

It took all her self-control to not scream at them to not judge her for one fucking mistake. They don't know her, they don't know her past, they don't how hard she had worked to become the person she was, and they don't know what one dangerously low self-esteem day had cost her – her reputation, social standing, her dad– everything.

Finally, she called Mercedes after her fourth job rejection, because Mercedes was an expert on this stuff.

The alternative was to dig around the freezer and eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food in a one person pity-fest which was infinitely more tragic, now that she didn't even have pregnancy food cravings (and another life to feed) as an excuse.

She was off the Cheerios. She had no intention of returning in the fall – not this time – but old habits die hard.

It would be so, so easy to fall back on ice cream when she wasn't spending hours every week doing conditioning, lifting weights, and memorizing advanced choreography. It would be too easy to slip back into Lucy and Quinn wasn't going let that happen, not when it had cost her so much.

She had already had years of practice locking Lucy away in order to show the world her better improvedself.

She wasn't going to risk all her hard work over stupid comments and job applications.

Mercedes was sympathetic, but she was also pragmatic about job-hunting and generous with her advice. Mercedes has held a summer job since she was fourteen and she had watched her brother go through the entire summer job/internship-hunting process every summer.

"You could always do some filing at my dad's office," Mercedes told her over the phone, after telling Quinn to try to do in-person interviews if possible, because she was good at "charming people" and showing them that she was competent. Mercedes sounded a little distracted - not that she was distant, but her attention was definitely elsewhere like she was a million miles away.

Mercedes continued, still in here not-quite-there voice, "My dad mentioned that he needed someone to schedule appointments and stuff like that. Normally I'd help out, but I'm busy this summer."

"What are you doing this summer that keeps you so busy?" Quinn's interest piqued. Mercedes hadn't mentioned anything during the last week of school when everyone went around sharing their summer plans.

She flipped through some more job applications and inwardly groaned at the one for Lowe's - who was she kidding? She needed a job, but she wasn't sure if she was that desperate: they probably wouldn't even hire her.

She knew nothing about hardware: Coach Sylvester had specifically forbidden Cheerios from taking Mr. St. Pierre's class because he was high off cold meds most of the time and she needed all her cheerleaders with all their appendages attached.

Cradling her cell between her shoulder and ear, Quinn tossed the Lowe's application into the trash and proofread her resume for Sheets N' Things; not even noticing the long silence on the other end.

When Mercedes finally answered her question - she was very vague on her summer plans. "Just stuff. Church camp, babysitting, that kind of thing. I'm busy every day, I can't just babysit my dad's patient files."

Not long after that, Mercedes said she had to go - but she made Quinn promise that they would hang out whenever they were free over the summer.

"My parents just asked about you the other day," she commented breezily, "you should come over for dinner. My dad would probably love to have you as an assistant.

"I'll look around more for some jobs. But dinner sounds great - I would love to do that sometime," Quinn replied, throat dry.

She felt her heart twist a little while Mercedes said goodbye; the fact that she hadn't seen the Jones in months weighed on her conscience.

Things had gotten crazy and rushed after giving birth to Beth, finding out her parents were separated, and moving back home - she never had a chance to tell them exactly how grateful she was that Mr. and Mrs. Jones had treated her as one of their own.

The thank you card she had sent them hadn't even come close to telling them how much it had meant to her that they took her in; Quinn was pretty sure that Hallmark didn't have anything that even came close.

But maybe if - after she got a job (because she was getting one no matter what it took) - she could treat Jones to dinner at a nice restaurant; at least it would show a small token of her appreciation for all the kindness they've shown her.

It would be something - better than a Hallmark card and months of radio silence that she didn't even know how to apologize for.

Quinn very carefully proofread her Sheets N' Things application twice and prayed that Mr. Schue's ex-wife wasn't in charge of hiring.

God, that woman hated her.

When she got called back for an in-person interview at the local ice cream store, the middle-aged manager, Jeremy, actually rolled his eyes when he read her previous job experience (Junior coach, Camp Cheer) and extracurricular activities (New Directions Glee Club, McKinley High's Cheerios, National Honor Society).

"Cheerleading." He carefully studied her for a moment. Then he muttered, "Not surprised."

Before she could say anything to that, he brusquely informed her that she would be working evening and weekend shifts.

Quinn blinked, taken aback. "I have the job?"

Jeremy snorted and handed her a pile of clothing that turned out to be the store's uniform (a red polo shirt, a white apron) and as well as a copy of the rulebook.

"It's not rocket science; you scoop ice cream," he told her, "And with a face like yours, you'll bring in customers. You start tomorrow at 10 AM for orientation. Don't be late." Jeremy looked back down at a pile of paperwork.

A clear dismissal.

Quinn clutched her uniform to her chest and wondered why she felt so ill at ease: she got the job, didn't she?

Somewhere beneath the surface, an empty space where Lucy used to inhabit, Jeremy's words called up foreign emotions that Quinn couldn't quite process.

"I got the job."

Her mother looked at her over their Thai take-out, her forehead creased. Quinn already knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth. "Quinnie, you know that you didn't have to - "

"I wanted to," Quinn interrupted, before giving her practiced answer: "It's not about the money, but that's also nice." In the past, her dad paid for everything but now she hated asking her mom for bus fare when her starting secretary salary wasn't much. "I just needed something to do this summer and this seemed like a good idea. A summer job would look good on my college application."

There was a part of her that wanted to say something about how weird the interview and how she felt like she had been unfairly judged for… something.

She wasn't sure for what, exactly.

For being a former cheerleader?

For her looks?

There had been something about Jeremy's stare and his comments that made her skin crawl.

But the moment passed. It was too late to say anything when her mom started asking her if she was going to try out for the Cheerios again in the fall.

Quinn delicately wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. "Don't think so, Mom." She tried searching for a polite way to explain how Coach Sylvester wanted her dead and all the ex-Cheerios in New Direction shipped to a North Korean prison camp after killing her chances of winning Nationals and failing. "I don't think Coach Sylvester wants me back on the squad."

Her mom just raised an eyebrow, mouth curved into a disapproving frown. "Think about it. A cheerleading scholarship might just be your ticket out of here."

There was an undercurrent of something in her voice that made Quinn nervous and maybe a little too aware of how their financial situation had changed since the divorce. They still had the house, but not much else. Half the furniture was gone and some of the rooms were barren.

College hadn't been an issue before – not when her dad was still around.

Quinn swallowed. "Right." Her mother had stopped looking at her to look at some files she brought home, but Quinn still felt the weight of her expectations and disappointment.

With a sinking heart, she wondered exactly how true those words were – her mom's side of the family hadn't been born wealthy. Her mother had got into Ohio State with a cheerleading scholarship and good grades.

But after what she did to Coach Sylvester, there was no way for Quinn to get back on the team. With her dad out of the picture, any of the really good schools (read: costly) were out of the question – her parents had dreamed that she would be the first Fabray to go to out of state, into one of those recognizable private brand name schools that gave them full bragging rights.

Her grades, her transcript full of straight A's - even her 1980 SAT score (and she had spent months studying when she was social outcast with nothing else to do) wouldn't matter if she ended up staying in Lima.

It wasn't that long ago that she told Rachel that she was going to end up staying in Lima forever, but that was before New York.

She couldn't let that happen now, not after seeing all the bright city lights and a thousand brilliant opportunities around every street corner. It didn't even have to be Lima – it just had to be out of her hometown, preferably out of Ohio. She didn't want to be a Lima loser, stuck in the same town for the rest of her sorry life.

New York was reserved for people like Rachel and Kurt – they have dreamed about making it big and built their futures around the glamour and lights.

And Quinn wasn't Rachel Berry.

She had no desire to go on Broadway or become rich or famous, even if she wouldn't mind the latter. Sure, Quinn liked being the center of positive attention as much as the next former cheerleading captain and homecoming queen nominee. She loved performing before a captive crowd, but she didn't crave it the way that Rachel did.

Rachel lived for applause and recognition.

Quinn just wanted to be accepted. (Lucy had wanted nothing more out of life than to be accepted.)

If she was to be truly honest with herself, she lacked Rachel's drive and talent for the entertainment business. A couple of years ago, she would have never admitted that – but it was true. Rachel was bursting with raw, undiscovered talent. Anyone could see that she was meant for so much more than Lima.

Maybe that was why she resented Rachel since freshman year: because everyone knew, no matter how hellish high school was for Rachel, it would all be temporary.

Rachel would make it out of Ohio; she was filled with too much raw talent and was too stubborn for it to not happen. No one in New York would care that she was obnoxious and lacked basic social cues after hearing her sing, they would have to be crazy not to let her on stage.

Everyone at McKinley High knew that some day in the future, Rachel Berry would be sitting across from David Letterman (because he was never, ever going to die) and laughingly recounting her traumatic high school experience like it didn't matter.

Quinn just wanted to make something of herself.

She just hoped that it was part of God's plan for it to happen.

Working at the ice cream shop was work.

It wasn't particularly hard. It wasn't even physically or mentally exhausting. What it was was boring, because there was a lot of downtime in the evenings and when the weather was bad.

It was raining hard outside; no one in his or her right mind would buy ice cream in this weather. For the past two hours, Quinn had wiped down every single table and restocked all the napkin dispensers. She hated being idle, but there was nothing else to do.

"You should take it easy," Eddie said, grinning at her. He had been texting his college friends for the past two hours of his shift. "Take a break. What kind of ice cream do you want?"

"Jeremy – "

"Isn't here and isn't going to notice." Eddie shrugged. "He's kind of a dick."

Quinn wasn't going to argue with that.

After a few more minutes of Eddie's coaxing, she grabbed the smallest serving cup they had just to shut him up.

Very carefully, she got one small scoop of fat-free lime sherbet.

"You know, I like girls who eat," Eddie commented, from behind the counter. She was all too aware of his eyes following her movements, but his words made her bristle.

It wasn't any of his business to judge what flavor she chose and how much ice cream she had in her plastic cup.

She raised an eyebrow. "Good news for your girlfriend then."

To her surprise, Eddie flushed and looked down. "Oh, I don't have one." He looked overly optimistic when he looked at her.

"Hmm," Quinn said drily, digging her plastic spoon into her treat. "Pity."

The lime sherbet was tart and tangy on her tongue; but it also tasted sweet.

It took her a moment to realize that it was the first real dessert since has had since joining the Cheerios – and even though she was no longer on the cheerleading squad and subjected to Coach Sylvester's Master Cleanse, the idea of getting anything that wasn't fat-free or a portion that was bigger than a child-size portion was foreign to her – as though it would turn her back to Lucy Caboosey if she wasn't careful.

"Do you want another? The Strawberry Cheesecake's pretty good."

"I'm full," Quinn told Eddie. "Really," she insisted after he looked at her doubtfully. She lifted her chin; "We're not all starving college boys with super-fast metabolisms like you."

Eddie beamed at her, as though she had paid him a compliment.

She knew that it was a little messed up that Coach Sylvester's diet meant that she already knew the exact calories and fat content of Eddie's favorite ice cream flavor. She hated herself for knowing it, but it was ingrained her brain.

The community college class she signed up for wasn't anything she expected.

She hadn't known if she was going to be overwhelmed with the workload or underwhelmed because even student at McKinley make jokes about how terrible Lima Community College was.

As it turned out, she wasn't either overwhelmed or underwhelmed - but she hadn't thought that she would be interestedin the course material. (She had signed up for the latest class she could because working evening and weekend shifts meant she slept in most days.)

The professor knew her material: she was funny, bright, and talked a mile per minute.

Quinn's hand ached by the end of her first class but she had pages upon pages of notes about the advent of the U.S. women's suffrage movement; details that she had never learned in any of one paragraph mentions in the history textbooks at McKinley.

"I can post the PowerPoint slides on Blackboard," Professor Lee said at the end of class. She caught Quinn's eye and smiled a little, "Remember your first assignment is due at the next class. Five page paper on what you think of when you hear the word 'feminism'."

"I can't believe that you're taking summer classes." Mercedes looked amused. She pointed to the French Vanilla and Quinn put two scoops into her medium cup. "You've already taken the SATs so you got the rest of us beat, shouldn't you be enjoying your summer?"

"I think I actually like my class," Quinn said, surprising herself with how true those words were.

Immediately, she hated the flash of self-consciousness that came with admitting such a thing.

It was one thing to get good grades because she was on the honor roll and it had been expected of her; it was another thing to confess that she was actively enjoying it. It made her uneasy, a little over-exposed, which was ridiculous.

It wasn't like Mercedes was going to judge her and call her a nerd – or at least, not in a malicious manner.

Quinn added, "It's interesting. The professor seems nice."

Mercedes seemed to understand that it was an awkward subject and cheerfully changed the subject, even if it was clear to Quinn that she had trouble believing that any college summer classes could be categorized as 'fun'. "If you say so – so what's with…?"

Quinn blinked. "Mercedes, you're going to have to use complete sentences. I have no idea –"

Mercedes sighed impatiently and nodded her head in Eddie's direction and Quinn was forever thankful that Eddie was too preoccupied wiping down the doors and windows with Windex to pay attention to them. "So, what's the scoop – no pun intended – on the hot college guy?"

"Not interested," Quinn replied immediately. She made a face. "He's… desperate."

"He's seriously into you. He keeps stealing looks at you." Mercedes laughed when she saw Quinn's 'do not want' expression, "Okay, okay. I'm leaving – but it's true!" She sings the last two words cheerfully.

Even as she watched Mercedes leave, Quinn could feel how Eddie's eyes were trained on her again.

She wished there was a good way to tell him to stop because it was seriously starting to annoy her.

She snapped at him later, when he asked her why she cut her hair after seeing an old photo from prom as her cell phone background wallpaper.

"Because I like it."

She had gotten that a lot since New York and it never stopped bothering her. When she came home from New York, her mom gave her a horrified look that made Quinn feel more like Lucy than she had in years.

Then her mom had told her, very carefully, that she hoped that her hair would be back to where it was before by prom; apparently girls with long hair were more likely to be nominated and win Prom Queen.

"Oh," he said, blinking. "I just thought you looked nicer with your hair long. That's all."

"I like my hair this way," Quinn repeated coldly, refilling a napkin dispenser.

She refused to give Eddie anything other than short, one or two-word answers for the rest of the closing shift for the rest of the closing shift and refused his offer to drive her home.

She'd shot him an incredulous look at the last one - she had driven herself to work. Was she supposed to leave her car in the parking lot overnight? This guy made Finn look like a genius.

God, he couldn't take a hint.

Feminism and feminist were terms that Quinn hadn't really thought about at length until she had to work on her homework assignment.

They were asked to write a reflection on their own thoughts; no consulting their textbook or readings. Professor Dudley had said that there was no 'wrong' answer, but she was more interested in the content and what they had to say.

The assignment sounded so easy when Quinn first heard it explained. It was supposed to be five pages, double-spaced, in Times New Roman and 12 point font. She had written longer papers for her AP US History class. It was supposed to be an easy first assignment.

But it was surprisingly difficult to try to articulate her exact views of what those words meant to her. Despite Professor Dudley's reassurance that there was no 'right' answer and she wanted everyone to answer honestly, Quinn was pretty sure that Professor Dudley would be offended by what she had to say on the word 'feminist' because it was so far from politically correct.

In her mind, 'feminism' and 'feminist' were two entirely different words with entirely different meanings, even though they shared the same roots.

Feminism was the belief that women are and should be treated as intellectual and social equals to men, that there should be political, social, and economic equality between men and women. That was something she believed in: women earned less than men for the same amount of work and that wasn't fair.

However, Quinn wouldn't call herself a feminist.

A feminist, according to her dad, was an unattractive angry man-hating woman. Feminists are often lesbians (not that Quinn really had a problem with that, she was sort of friends with Santana and Brittany for heaven's sake), they don't shave their pits or legs, and they disrespect and look down upon stay-at-home mothers.

A feminist had been something akin to a dirty word in the Fabray household.

I am not comfortable with using the terms 'feminism' and 'feminist', Quinn wrote in the conclusion of her paper, I think it's unnecessary to advocate for 'feminism' when the goal of feminists is to bring forth an egalitarian society. It would make much more sense for us to support egalitarianism and label ourselves egalitarians.

Hopefully, her grade wouldn't suffer.

Professor Dudley ended the lecture on the second-wave feminist movement with the words, "I have graded your papers…"

Groans were heard around the room.

Quinn felt her stomach drop a little as students went to collect their papers.

When she got her paper handed back to her, Quinn had been the last student in the room and was pleasantly surprised to see an A on the last page with her professor's comments.

"I find your comment on egalitarianism very interesting," Professor Dudley told her, smiling kindly when she noticed Quinn's relieved expression. She winked. "I did say that I wasn't going to judge my students for giving their honest opinions."

Quinn could feel her ears burning. "I know I listed a lot of negative stereotypes…"

"We'll be analyzing some of the media's portrayals of feminists next week. Don't skip, I'll be showing some YouTube clips."

"That sounds great. I've been doing some of the readings and I was wondering how some of the negative stereotypes came to be."

Professor Dudley looked at Quinn carefully, "You know, I'm teaching a class on women in the media next semester…"

"I'm actually rising senior at McKinley," Quinn replied, shaking her head. "I'm just taking this class to pass the time." She paused and added hastily, "Not that I'm not interested in the class, it's very fascinating. It makes me think –that sounds stupid, but I never really thought about institutionalized sexism before and how it affects women on a everyday level."

Professor Dudley smiled. "In that case, I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts in next week's discussion."

Quinn began to dread her Saturday shifts with Eddie, because he didn't seem to understand the meaning of the words 'not interested'. When they were working next to each other, he always stood a bit too close - invading her personal bubble until she could feel his body heat radiating off him. He continued to ask her out after every shift.

When she brought it up with Jeremy, he stared at her incredulously.

"What do you want me to do? Either you tell him off or you suck it up. You have to be used to this by now."

Quinn attempted to smile and thanked Jeremy after picking up her paycheck.

Inside, Lucy seethed and raged: it was unfair that it was up to her to stop her co-worker from making unwanted advances.

In class, when Professor Dudley talked about sexual harassment laws and court cases, Quinn took careful notes.

There were always McKinley students coming in; which wasn't a big surprise considering that there wasn't much to do in Lima and it was hot out. Sometimes classmates and students would acknowledge her and say hi, sometimes they didn't or avoided looking her in the eye, and Quinn didn't particularly care either way. Only occasionally was she actually glad to see people she knows - and most of the time, they were members from New Directions.

It was her turn to do inventory, so she hadn't paid attention to the customers when they ambled in during the late evening shift.

She had thought she had heard a couple of familiar voices, but she had been in the back room with a clipboard and pen, too busy to investigate.

The shop was empty when she was got back to the counter and Eddie acted strange - he didn't flirt like he normally would. He wouldn't meet her eyes when Quinn asked him if he wanted to take trash or mop duty.

"Um, fine, whatever you choose," he mumbled. He reached for a wet towel and turned to wipe down the already-pristine counters.

Annoyed, Quinn decided to leave him with the mopping and started to empty all the trash.

When she hoisting a trash bag into the dumpster behind the ice cream store, she recognized a bunch of Cheerios hanging around a car in the lot. It was hard not to – even in the dead of summer, they were wearing their jackets and loudly complaining about Sue's summer workout schedule.

Melanie Something from Cheerios. Rising sophomore, decent spotter (but weak knees). Sucked up to Coach Sylvester a lot during practices - Santana had said something about her wanting to become Sue's new right hand man in the fall.

Melanie or one of her friends had probably told Eddie stuff about her: Quinn was sure of it. The dread that hung in her stomach was a familiar sensation; someone else who knows too much of her life and mistakes.

Sometimes, Quinn felt like her life was built upon secrets. That it was a dam just waiting to burst. Whether it's because of Lucy Caboosey or because of Beth.

Frankly, Quinn wasn't sure if Melanie had talked about her nose job or the fact that she had gotten knocked up (or maybe even both) and she didn't care because it was pointless to speculate.

Eddie didn't know how to act around her anymore after hearing Melanie's stories. He would talk to her, talk ather, then ignore her, then try to joke with her, and then he would stop himself and avoid looking at her for the rest of their shared shift.

It was driving her crazy.

She wasn't sure if Jeremy knew about her history or if he just didn't care, but she kept waiting for him to look at her differently or fire her.

It wasn't like she didn't know what people said about her: even though she had been nominated for prom queen, she knew what students thought of Quinn Fabray.

So many of them thought she was a hypocrite for restarting the Celibacy Club and thought she had been easy for bouncing from Finn, Puck, and Sam.

Jacob "Jewfro" Ben Israel had even starting placing bets on when she was going to get knocked up again and who Beth 2.0's baby daddy would be. The last she heard, Finn had been in the lead – but that was before their break up.

It was depressing to think that even when (not if) she got out of Lima, she would have to continue carrying all her secrets.

They were her badges of shame and she was Hester Prynne and every time someone is bright enough to Google her name, they can find out about all her baby drama and her Lucy past on the back archives of Jacob's site on the first page results along with every single gymnastics and cheerleading competition she has ever won.

She hadn't regretted giving up Beth; it was the best decision she had made because she hadn't been ready to be a mother and Puck had almost named her Jackie Daniels. He would have made a terrible dad.

But she had regretted her decision to drink all those wine coolers (because of her stupid insecurities when Coach Sylvester telling her that her legs looked chunky at practice) and compromise her morals.

Now she had to live with her mistakes, but she was sosick of people judging her, of pitying and scornful looks when she was out shopping and minding her own business. During the school year, she had tolerated loud whispered rumors in the locker rooms and demeaning comments from Santana, but she had her Cheerios uniform and the glee club behind her.

During the summer, Quinn's place in the McKinley High social hierarchy didn't matter. Not when she was the employee and kids from school were the customers and they were purposely rude to her face and disclosed facts about her past to her co-workers.

Maybe she would start going by 'Lucy' again after graduation, when she's out of Lima. Reclaim her legal name.

It might be the only way for her to escape her reputation and Lima notoriety.

Quinn hadn't known that Eddie had quit to go back to school until she showed up for her evening shift one day and Mike and Tina were waiting to be trained.

"Jeremy didn't tell you?" Mike asked, correctly interpreting Quinn's expression. "He said that you were supposed to show us the ropes tonight. I have weekend shifts with you, but Tina has the week nights and she'll be staying after this is done."

"Number one thing to know about Jeremy," Quinn replied wryly, tying her work apron. "He doesn't tell anyone anything."

"He's also a prick," Tina offered, from behind the cash register. Quinn noticed that her hair had auburn highlights. "Wanna give us a run-through?"

"Aren't you two working as camp counselors?"

Tina and Mike looked at each other guiltily.

There was a long, awkward silence.

"Um, we may have been fired due to 'unprofessional' conduct," Tina said sheepishly. "I accidentally kissed Mike when we were on the clock. Someone's parents saw and got offended so the camp asked us to resign."

Quinn grinned, already feeling her spirits lift at the thought of working with Mike and Tina. She couldn't even herself to be mad at Jeremy for not informing her about training.

Seeing her friends' faces, hearing them laugh and joke was infinitely preferable to having Eddie stumble around her.

No more unbearably long, uncomfortable work shifts.

Quinn looked forward to her shifts with Tina.

Not that Mike Chang wasn't one of the sweetest guys on the planet.

He was undoubtedly one of the nicest guys Quinn had ever met and she secretly wondered how he managed to fly under the radar at McKinley.

Sometimes Quinn sometimes wished she had chosen the football player in the #22 jersey instead of volleying between Sam and Finn, but the fact was that outside of glee she and Mike didn't have a lot in common.

Most of their shifts were spent in comfortable silence while Mike fiddled with the radio and charmed older ladies and small children into buying their daily specials.

But with Tina, Quinn could talk about her anything from her classes, her mom, college, and shallow stuff like boys without feeling like she was being judged. If she tried doing that with Brittany or Santana, Brittany would say something weird and Santana would just tell her to grow some balls.

Not to mention, Mercedes was surprisingly scarce this summer.

("It's from faking a stutter and being shy for so many years," Tina told her with a self-deprecating smile when Quinn commented on her listening skills, "I'm a good at keeping quiet and paying attention.")

Quinn had been recounting the incident with one of the meathead hockey players who had come in during her Saturday shift with Mike.

"He was asking us if we were open for business and after Mike pointed out that the sign said we were open, he turned to me and pointed to my crotch and asked me if I was open for business."

"Jerk!" Tina looked around to make sure that the shop was empty; it was. She swore, fuming. "He was a jackass."

"Your boyfriend may or may not have kicked him out of the store," Quinn told her. "He has a chivalry streak a mile wide."

"That was uncalled for." Tina grabbed a rag and wiped down a counter. "Ugh, Alex is such a sexist pig. He was the one who started up that rumor about that freshman in May because she wanted to go to prom, but didn't want to sleep with him."

"My professor would probably tear him a new one," Quinn replied, sighing. She was actually disappointed that she turned in her last paper for the class the day before because Professor Dudley had given her a new perspective on a lot of issues and made her re-evaluate her position on the terms 'feminism' and 'feminist' after knowing the history. "She's like, an ardent feminist. Not the radical kind though." She paused, "Not that there's anything wrong with the radical feminists either, because the media has gotten them all wrong…"

Tina laughed. "Look at you, Quinn Fabray: expert of feminism." Her tone was teasing, "Are you going to start a feminism or women's rights club now that the Celibacy Club is officially dead?"'

Rolling her eyes, Quinn rinsed the old ice cream scoopers at the sink. "Shut up, you're just annoyed because Rachel and I tried to recruit you and Mike and you two avoided us for a week."

"We spent a lot of time in broom closets that week." Tina sounded smug. "It was time well-spent."

"TMI."

Tina shot her a sweet smile. "Seriously though, now that you're off the Cheerios… maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. It'll look good on your college résumé."

Quinn sighed. "It would…" She had seriously considered it before, not just for college application padding, but because she needed something to do other than glee club which was the Finn and Rachel show. "But I don't think anyone else would join."

"I would." Tina blinked, frowning at Quinn's skeptical expression. "What, I would! I'm staying after school practically every day anyway. Glee, Asian-American Club, Brainiacs... there's no reason for me not to." She reached for a medium cup and got herself a scoop of strawberry and vanilla.

Quinn looked at the clock; with a half hour to closing, it was doubtful that anyone was going to come in. She got herself a small cup and got herself a scoop of strawberry. "I might try. It would be nice if we could discuss and stop slut shaming. It's everywhere."

Tina wrinkled her nose. "God, yes please." She smiled, "Sorry, I know this is probably rude because you were the president of the Celibacy Club and all – "

Quinn shook her head. "No, it's okay. I've heard a lot of stuff said about me."

For a moment, Tina didn't say anything. She appeared to be mulling over Quinn's words. "Do you want to sleep over at my house tonight? We could, I don't know, order a pizza and watch some movies to celebrate you being done with your summer class."

Tina sounded a little hesitant. Quinn supposed that it was because they never hung out outside of glee or work and she was afraid that Quinn would say no.

Obviously, Tina wasn't acquainted with Quinn's non-existent summer social calendar.

She shot Tina reassuring smile, feeling more like Lucy than Quinn at the moment. "That sounds fun. I'll just text my mom to let her know."

Somehow, Tina managed to convince Quinn that the best way to piss off Jeremy was to let her dye her hair.

Pink.

"The employee handbook says nothing about hair color in the dress code," Tina reassured her, "I checked. The only reason why I haven't streaked mine blue this summer is because the parents of the kids at the camp are pretty conservative." At least that explained why her hair was different.

"If you say so." The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of firing her. Quinn grimaced when Tina started applying Manic Panic to her hair - the cream was cold. Last time, she had simply used hair mascara for their Lady Gaga week. "What do you think about our chances of starting a feminism club at McKinley?"

"We'll have to come up with a name and convince Figgins, but we already have three members."

"Three?"

Even though she couldn't see her, Quinn detected laughter in Tina's voice. "You forget that Rachel Berry joins every single club at school."

"… I guess I could live with that." Quinn sighed. "Ugh, I hate Jeremy. The things I do just to aggravate him."

"Mike and I had a joint-interview because he thought we were related," Tina told her, her plastic gloves made loud crinkling sounds. "I'm pretty sure he decided to hire us because we were Asian. He said something about Asians being hard workers."

"Is it bad that I kind of want that jerk to try to fire me?" Quinn wondered out loud. When Tina started laughing, Quinn raised her voice, "I'm serious. When he hired me, he said that I would sell ice cream because of my face."

Tina paused from applying dye to her hair. "Oh."

"He made my skin crawl." Quinn shuddered. "He's such a sleaze. One time, he told me that I should consider wearing shorts to work as long as they're khakis because it would attract more guys to come in. That's border-line sexual harassment."

There was a short pause, before Tina said, a little slowly: "I bet you've never been told that you're not pretty enough for someone."

"What?" Quinn almost got dye in her hair by trying to crane her head to look at Tina.

"Don't get me wrong," Tina said quickly, walking around so Quinn could see her expression. "I know about what happened before you transferred… but you look like this now. Complete strangers think that you look like a storybook princess. And that's what counts."

"I don't understand. Mike loves you – "

"I know," Tina said firmly. "I love him too. But I know that his parents and some of his relatives think that he's too good-looking for me and I got jealous of Brittany because I thought that he would like someone who was prettier." Her voice was quiet. "It was stupid but the media tells us a lot of things about how we should look like."

"I'm going to start a feminism club," Quinn decided, a lump in her throat. She could feel Lucy approve. There was something in Tina's voice that reminded her too much of Rachel from prom night and it was ridiculous, Tina was pretty just the way she was. "We could talk about stuff like this."

"Good."

"Tina?" Quinn asked, after she had rinsed off the dye and had gotten a good look at her new pink hair. "Do you think I could borrow some clothes from you? I want to see Jeremy's reaction when I stop by with my paycheck next week."

Intrigued, Tina handed Quinn a towel for her hair. "What do you have in mind?"

It had been satisfying to see Jeremy's face when she walked in to get her paycheck.

It had been even more satisfying telling him that nothing in the employee handbook said she couldn't dye her hair 'an unnatural color' and informing him that she was giving him her two week's notice because school was starting up again soon.

Inside, Lucy cheered for that fact that she stood up for herself and had put her boss in his place.

Quinn had never felt lighter than when she walked back to her car with the envelope containing her paycheck in her purse.

It felt just good as when she was the flyer on the Cheerios; the rush of adrenaline and the feeling of accomplishment in her veins.

Her mom hadn't been too thrilled either, but Quinn assured her it was a 'social experiment'.

In a way, she was telling the truth: it was fascinating to see how some people hadn't recognized her when she was out or if they did, they were too busy gawking at her hair and bondage-style black cargo pants to talk trash about Beth or about her nose.

If they wanted to stare and whisper about her; she'll have them do it on her terms.

"I kind of like my hair this way," Quinn confessed, next time she was on shift with Tina. She liked the contrast between the pink and the blonde in her hair. "Do you mind if I keep that shirt and your fake nose ring?" At Tina's curious look, she added, "I think I may keep this up for the first day of school."

"Be my guest," Tina told her, amused. "Let me know how well your mom takes the fake nose ring when she's already worried about your prom queen chances with short hair."

If Quinn were to be truly honest with herself; cutting her hair had been a symbolic gesture to demonstrate that her stint as Head Cheerio at McKinley was over.

It had nothing to do with Finn.

(Okay, maybe a little.)

At any other school, cheerleaders with short hair could wear headbands or just pin everything back, but Coach Sylvester liked the uniform look of tight ponytails on all her Cheerios. Even without all the bad blood between the two of them; Coach Sylvester would never make an exception and Quinn had no reason to try out for the team again, no matter how much she missed the red and white uniforms.

So, Quinn supposed her hair cut was also a physical reminder that her true loyalties lie with New Directions.

And with her hair now dyed pink, there was no way that Coach Sylvester would ever let her anywhere near the Cheerios try-outs.

This new look was going to keep her honest.

She wasn't going to keep making the same mistake over again, not with guys, not with the Cheerios and Sue.

She/Lucy were better than that.

Predictably, there was a myriad of reactions from everyone on the first day of school.

Tina and Mike had already been used to it (although Mike and Tina frowned when they saw her with a cigarette, Quinn figured that she might as well go all out with her new image) but everyone else had been unprepared.

Last she heard, Jacob was telling everyone that she had spent the summer working as a truck driver and her fake Ryan Seacrest tattoo was real.

Somehow, she had expected Rachel to corner her at her locker before lunch.

Quinn waited. "Are you going to give me a pep talk? Something about beauty and how I'm so 'above this'?" she asked, arching an eyebrow when Rachel didn't say anything.

"No," Rachel said slowly, "But I did want to tell you that I have a great idea for a poster for your club. Tina told me about your idea during homeroom and I know you're trying to find a way to pitch the idea to Principal Figgins. " Rachel looked at her hopefully.

Quinn closed her locker. "Tell me about it on our way to the cafeteria." She pretended she didn't see the relieved smile that flashed across Rachel's expression. Instead, she let Rachel talk her ear off as if they've been friends for years.

Lucy was glad that she had finally been able to let go of petty differences; Quinn smiled, showing her teeth at anyone who dared look at her and Rachel twice.

She strode through the halls with her head held up high.