The grassy part of the playground has always been her favorite. She'd always run around, twirl like a ballerina just like she's been taught in dance school, and sing about how 'The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Music'. Though you'd often see her playing by herself since "the other kids don't like playing with me her because she uses words they can't understand and she's too small for them; they're big kids so they say they do really cool big-kid stuff that she can't," she tells her daddy one day, when he picks her up from kindergarten. Daddy just smiles warmly at her, with all the love only a parent can give, and gently explains, "Cupcake, you're too cool for them. They can't sing Barbra and any Broadway song like you do." She thinks her singing isn't on Barbra's level yet, but she returns her daddy's smile as bright as she could and allows herself to be tucked safely in her daddy's arms. She has the best parents in the world.

"We you soo much… We've always wanted a child, and we're so lucky to have you. You know why?" dad asked one night.

"Why?" she whispered quietly, as if her daddies are telling her a secret.

"Because you turned out to be better than the daughter of our dreams, cupcake…" daddy winked.

She smiles like she's never smiled before, while quietly disagreeing in her head. No, dads. You are better than the best parents in the whole world.

Another dinner party to sit through, another night to watch her mom and dad drown themselves in alcohol, another night where she must sit stiff (properly like a lady, her mom always reminds her) and wear the itchy dress with a big bow. She always hated bows, always hated sitting 'properly', but she hates seeing her parents drink until they get red in the face so much more. She loves her mom and dad very much, more than her Carebears even, but she doesn't like seeing them like that most of the time. She tries not to wrinkle her nose and mouth yuck when the parties finish, she's already in her Braveheart pjs, and mommy and daddy are on the couch unconscious, reeking of scotch. But the good thing about these dinner parties is that she always gets to play with all the other girls in her room, even if she thinks they're all just there for her toys and not really her.

"Sweetheart, you always be a good girl, okay? Always be polite and do what mommy and daddy say, okay? We know what's best for you, and you know God rewards obedient children." Her mother pushes her hair behind her ears and cups her face.

"Yes, mommy." She smiles.

Her father puts a hand on her small shoulder and bends down to kiss her forehead. "You know, Quinnie? All of daddy's friends are impressed with how well-mannered you were, last night! Daddy and mommy are so proud of you. You are the perfect, daughter!"

She smiles. Maybe dinner parties aren't so bad after all. In dinner parties, she gets to show how well-behaved she is. Mommy and daddy love her when she behaves well.

She hums a made-up tune while watching a pretty blonde girl walk to the swings. She's never seen any other kid play alone other than her. The girl's not small, like her, and very quiet unlike her, so she wonders why the girl's at the swings alone. She untangles her small legs from under her and walks to the girl.

"Are also you fond of reading dictionaries and thesauruses?" She asks from behind the girl.

The girl jumps, surprised by the voice, and whips her head to face the source. She ends up staring open-mouthed at a girl who she thinks might be younger than her, with big warm brown eyes.

"You see, I have a penchant for reading and using the new words I encounter in the books I read in conversations with my peers, but they seem to be clueless as to what I am trying to say because I guess not all kids read Oxford or Webster. They refuse to associate with a 'freak' thus me spending my time in the park by myself. Could that be the cause as to why you're alone also?"

The blonde girl blinks. Once. Twice... "Umm… No, I don't read dictionaries."

She waits for the girl to say more, after all, she answered only one of her questions. The girl must've realized she was waiting so added, "… but I have read lots of story books."

"Well, my daddies always say that knowledge is power and encourage me to be a wide-reader so they've bought me several kinds of books to enjoy. Though, my personal favorites are the biographies because knowing that the events really did happen in the real world makes one feel hopeful and optimistic, seeing that real people have beaten life's trials and tribulations."

The girl blinks again, trying to process what she's said it seems. But even before the blonde has the chance to formulate a reply, she remembers that they haven't introduced themselves yet.

"Oh! I have yet to introduce myself, excuse my rudeness. My name is Rachel Barbra Berry." She cracks a mega-watt grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The girl smiled back and stuck her hand out. "Quinn."

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble about how different the homes Rachel and Quinn grew up in, but I'm planning on writing a few more chapters and making this a story. Maybe if I get reviews I will. *wink wink*