Notes: This is an Alternate Universe (AU) fanfiction. The point of divergence is the reasoning behind Quinn's decision to leave her identity of 'Lucy' behind and transfer schools, drastically altering her physical appearance in the process. In Glee-Canon, she gets a nose-job and goes to cheerleading camp. In this story, well, she does none of that. I suppose you could say that the point of divergence is much earlier, beginning with Judy and Russell Fabray being rather more liberal than their canon-counterparts, but in terms of decisions made by characters, we'll go with changing schools. Characters from canon other than Quinn will appear. Note also that my grasp of canon ends about halfway through season three, although due to the AU nature of this work, that shouldn't be an issue.

Chapter 1

"Quinn, darling, it's time to wake up! You don't want to be late for move in, do you?"

You smile. Your mother, bless her soul, didn't even stutter over the new name. Your sister still resolutely refers to you as "Lucy" although she's grudgingly had to drop the "Caboosey" part of that unfortunate moniker. Jogging is painful, but not nearly as bad as anorexia, and the abs are just a nice little bonus.

You're out of bed quickly (for once) and have your teeth brushed, hair combed, contact lenses in, clothing on, and breakfast eaten in no time flat. Your dad chuckles. "Someone's in a hurry to get to school," he says.

"It's the first day," you explain. "I have to scope out the good rooms. I read online that I should avoid the rooms with carpeting. Apparently they retain stains better or something."

He tuts. "Well, I want to finish the paper before I drive you over, so take your time there, tiger. Maybe we'll do fashionably late. Besides, carpet is nicer on the toes."

You groan.

Your sister scowls (Frannie never was a morning person) and snaps, "Freak, I'm trying to eat."

You ignore her. It's easy to do; you've had practice. You've spent the last six months ignoring cruel words from those around you and God knows how long before that ignoring yourself. You decide to drink some orange juice instead of responding, cool sugar instead of fiery retorts. It's something your therapist taught you, to balance hot feelings with cold, cold feelings with hot, and you're not unconvinced that she's a waste of your parents money. Still, it's something to do other than lashing out.

Breakfast is a tense sort of quiet. Your mother doesn't break it, but you can see her opening her mouth every once in a while, about to say something, before catching herself and closing it. You feel guiltily appreciative of that fact. You love your mother but you hate small talk and today, of all days, what is there to say? Yesterday, you were Lucy Fabray, and you hated yourself, but today you are Quinn, and how you feel about that remains to be seen.

Your father finally puts down his paper and glances at his watch. "Oh, is that the time? Why didn't anyone say anything? We're going to be late for L- Quinn's move in!"

You wouldn't have laughed at the joke even if he hadn't slipped. You make it a point not to encourage his sense of humor. Your mother, however, titters obligingly and walks you to the door. She wants to hug you, you can tell, and part of you feels bad that she doesn't feel like she can. You drop your bags and sigh before turning and delicately, awkwardly, putting your arms around her. She, apparently, didn't get the memo though, and engulfs you in arms, tears, and all of the words that she wanted to say during breakfast but held in.

It's a few awkward seconds before she catches herself and releases you, simultaneously pleased at the rare contact and guilty for having made you uncomfortable. She's teary, though, and you wonder, for the first time, if this is the right choice, if boarding school is really the answer to your problems.

Your father seems to know what you're thinking. Russell gently lets you know that "There's still time to back out, kiddo. We can move, find a new school for you. Your sister might squall a bit, but we're your family, that's what we do," and you've never loved him as much as you do in that moment.

You shake your head, though. "I'm fine, dad," you tell him. It's not true, not completely, and he knows that, but he nods. "This is something I have to do," you say, and he seems to know what you mean because he just grabs your suitcase and throws it in into the trunk.

The ride is quiet, and for the first time, you wish it wasn't. If things go well, you won't see your parents again until Thanksgiving, and you've never been away from home for that long. The imminent separation is claustrophobic and you find yourself wishing your father would give you one last scrap to hold on to, but he's quiet, and you're quiet, and your last moments with him, right up until he hands you your suitcase and (quietly) says, "Well, good luck, son," are quiet.

You are Quinn Fabray and today is your first day at Dalton Academy. You take a deep breath, make sure that your new dress shirt is tucked into the grey uniform slacks (thankful that your breasts aren't excessive because fuck, can you imagine having to wear a binder underneath your undershirt, dress shirt, and blazer in the late summer heat?) and, pulling your single suitcase behind you, walk through the double doors of the school.