She wasn't always fat. It started in her last years of elementary school; she started to get chubby as she hit puberty. Suddenly, there were rolls where she once was svelte; she got breasts and bigger thighs and boys started looking at her differently. When you're ten, extra attention is upsetting. Mercedes Jones always had a healthy relationship with food, but when your friends won't talk to you and boys follow you home from school, it's easier to take the ice cream from the fridge and hide in your room. Mercedes once spent an entire evening locked in her room eating ice cream before she realized that her dad would find out at her next check up if she didn't brush her teeth, like, now.

It didn't make a difference, though; her parents never found out, and they never said anything about the weight slowly making itself apparent on their daughter's frame.

She sort of wished they'd say something, maybe once; show as much concern for her body as they showed for her teeth.

It didn't matter. She went into sophomore year a size 16, a proud black woman, and someone who knew her style more than Kurt Hummel gave her credit for.

It didn't matter until she realized that you can only hide behind food for so long before it starts being your enemy instead of your friend.

//~//

Quinn Fabray never had to worry about her weight – her mother worried for her.

"Quinnie, you need to watch how many carbs you're eating today. You really don't need that extra dinner roll." Her mother would sit at the table, doling out portions as stingily as Russell doled out pocket money. "You don't want to end up chubby. Chubby girls never get boyfriends."

Quinn, age 7, didn't know why anyone would want a boyfriend, but she learned fast from a young age to just keep the peace. "Okay, Mommy."

It became apparent later on that her mother's dinner policing was training for Sue Sylvester's all-out fanaticism. Quinn spent hours in the bathroom after one of Sue's special "shakes", running from both ends and feeling like she wanted to die.

There was a small sense of triumph when she stepped on the scale that afternoon, recognizing that the two pounds she lost was probably water weight (but not caring); she started to crave Sue's smiles and congratulations.

And for one moment, it felt like that's all she needed – the encouragement to strive harder, to try longer . . . to burn one more calorie, lose one more pound, even though she'd dropped from a six to a four and her knees started to shake in the mornings.

It was confidence she was buying, she thought. Every nutrient sacrificed bought one more ounce of confidence. The ability to hold up her head even when she hated herself. That rough, sneering tone of voice when she really wanted to put an arm around the girl she was teasing, lean her blonde head against hers, and cry with her.

Life is hard enough, but Quinn became embittered and hardened.

That was okay until she realized that when she had no more friends and no more popularity, she had no more confidence, either.

//~//

They were friends in primary school. The blonde girl and the beautiful African-American child with the sparkling dark eyes used to share peanut butter sandwiches salted with sand from under the swings and princess stories at recess time.

Mercedes held Quinn's hand during story time when Quinn was scared of the big bad wolf. Quinn helped Mercedes up after a bigger boy pushed her into a mud puddle, and gave her her last pair of dry mittens when Mercedes' were soaked with mud.

It was a childhood that knew no class lines or popularity. It was just two little girls playing dolls in the sunlight, sharing funny stories and laughter.

Quinn watched Mercedes eating food she was never allowed to have – white bread and jelly, chips and chocolate bars on holidays, soda from the can when Quinn, even at special occasions, was only allowed diet soda watered down in a glass.

Mercedes watched Quinn's tiny body in her flowing long dresses never grow any bigger; her long legs twinkling under the bell of her skirt, and she watched the teachers speak sweeter to this dainty Dresden doll of a little girl. Soon it became apparent that Quinn was who everyone wanted to be friends with.

Quinn didn't mean to drop Mercedes, really; it just sort of happened. One day they stopped eating lunch together – the next day, they stopped playing together at recess. By the time the end of primary school rolled around, they weren't speaking at all.

Mercedes went into junior high knowing who she wanted to be. She honed her singing skills, she got straight As, and she ignored the jibes from the more popular girls about her sense of style and the music she listened to.

Quinn became one of the more popular girls by clinging tightly to the small foothold her perfect body afforded her.

Mercedes ignored Quinn, but Quinn made Mercedes her personal scapegoat. Somehow, she never could pierce the girl's armour, which made her all that determined to try, between her hungry stomach growling and the horrible thoughts she had about cutting off parts of her body to be thinner.

Mercedes never showed Quinn how her sneers hurt her, but she turned to food the way Quinn turned away from it – with loathing and self-disgust.

//~//

It wasn't surprising when Quinn turned up in Glee; her boyfriend joined and she had to keep that annoying Rachel Berry out of his pants. It was, however, surprising to Quinn that Mercedes turned up in the Cheerios, even after she'd been kicked off the squad.

Now Quinn was protecting more than just herself. This tiny girl growing inside her mattered, somehow, more than her own feelings and thoughts had ever mattered. She ate full meals. She began to fill out, her cheeks softening, her body rounding slightly, healthily.

Mercedes began to lose weight. Her face got hollows in the cheeks; her eyes lost their sparkle, and when she finally fainted outside the cafeteria doors, Quinn hurried to the nurse's office to see her former friend.

The confident girl before her – the girl who had true confidence – now had tears on her cheeks, and shaky hands, and Quinn reached out before she could stop herself.

"I know what it's like."

Mercedes' disbelieving face didn't stop her, though it probably should have. Quinn told her, honestly; Mercedes listened, honestly.

Quinn's hug was gentle – Mercedes held herself back until she realized that she wasn't winning by denying Quinn her forgiveness.

The words "you" and "suck", thought Quinn, would never come out of her mouth again.

//~//

It didn't end happily. It never does. Quinn created the Glist; Mercedes continued with the Cheerios. They ignored each other in the halls and refused to speak to each other at Glee rehearsal.

But Quinn started leaving granola bars in Mercedes' locker slats, and Mercedes looked towards Quinn whenever she passed her in the hall. When someone purposely knocked Quinn out of the way, Mercedes made sure he was elbow-checked into the nearest bank of lockers.

Quinn's eyes locked with Mercedes, and she smiled, a different smile than the snooty one she'd been practicing for so long.

For a split second, they were the girls in the emerald field at recess again.

It's not too late – is it?