hey hey hey! i'm back with a new story! don't worry. this will end with a happy ending. they will gallop off into the future on a unicorn with rainbows and candies. i promise. however, i have to warn you all this will be a student/teacher relationship so read at your own risk.

also, i wanna thank my beta, Stephanie, for being so kind and patient with me!

now, read, ponder and enjoy.

Quinn sat at her desk, face half buried in her hand. An essay on what she loved the most and why. It was both an easy and difficult topic for her to embark on. At this moment, it was English she loved the most, but somewhere deep down inside, she knew better. Inside, something was roaring at her, screaming that she loved something else much more. She closed her eyes and buried the roar.

There was a quiet knock at her bedroom door, announcing her sister Frannie, as she opened the door and walked in. Frannie was the perfect girl. Well, she was the perfect girl after what Quinn had done five years ago. Her father had still not forgiven her for it. From that day forward, her parents poured their hopes onto her older sister. She had always wondered why they had expected so much from her, but not from her sister.

Was it because they loved Frannie too much to put her under that pressure? Or was it because they loved Quinn so much they wanted her to achieve greatness? She never was completely sure and she never dared to ask.

Quinn swiveled her chair around to face Frannie who had taken the liberty to sit on her bed without her permission. Not that Quinn would forbid her anyway. Frannie had always told her that she liked Quinn's room more than her own.

"It's more…alive," Frannie had told her.

Frannie forced a smile and Quinn could immediately see that it wasn't genuine. "What's up?" she asked.

"Mr. Ryerson died this afternoon."

Quinn frowned at the sudden news. "What happened?"

"They said it was a heart attack. His house maid gave him mouth-to-mouth." Quinn grimaced. She had learned mouth-to-mouth when she trained with the Red Cross. Not a pretty experience. Frannie smiled wider at the grimace. "The EMTs said it was a lost cause."

Quinn glanced at the clock on her bedside table and looked back at her sister. They waited a long moment for the call.

"Girls! Dinner!"

"He wasn't even that old."

Wasn't. That was the thing about Russell Fabray. He reacted to friends and relatives' deaths like they happened daily. He was the same five years ago. Quinn was kidding herself if she thought that it would have changed by now.

"She was ancient," Quinn commented. She sat at the dining table, next to her grandfather and across from her sister. Russell was sitting at the head of the table. Judy slapped the steak on top of the cutting board at the counter. Their housekeeper, Mercedes, was off today.

"Quinn's right. He was at the age when he could go at any second," Fred, her grandfather, cut in. Quinn flashed him a thankful smile. He winked back at her.

Fred took a sip of his wine while Judy whacked the steak with a mallet and Quinn felt the in and out of her own breath. Ever since the news, Quinn had been more aware of her lungs and heart and everything that kept her body going.

"Well, it's too soon," Russell said. Quinn resisted wincing at her father's insensitivity. He unlocked his phone and checked his calendar. He looked back up at his younger daughter and waved the phone around, as though she could see the calendar displayed on the tiny screen from where she sat. "Two months. He had to die two months before the showcase!"

The winter showcase at the symphony hall. Her sister's last performance before she went to college.

"Frannie will be ready. She's always been ready, Dad," Quinn said

"Of course she's ready now, but she won't be ready two months from now without no one on her. How do you think I'm gonna find someone at this time of the year? With winter break and everything," her father ranted.

Quinn fingered the napkin in front of her and listened to the steak sizzling in the pan at the stove. She hung on for approximately two seconds before the faintest of smiles appeared on her lips. It was also a joke for her to expect her mother to come to Frannie's defense. Fred nudged her discreetly with his elbow. He knew what she was up to, he always did.

"Russell, it's a showcase." Fred took another sip. "Not a competition. Frannie will do fine."

Fred must have forgotten that the word "fine" did not exist in their family vocabulary. If you were a Fabray and you were supposed to be an expert in something, you better do it way better than fine. Fine was synonymous with mediocre. Of course, Fred wouldn't remember that because he wasn't actually a Fabray. He was her mother's father, after all.

"Even if it's just a showcase," Russell mocked with a pointed look at her grandfather, "Frannie needs to pull off her best performance since it's her last one. God knows who else would be able to go up on stage and perform again." That last sentence was meant for Quinn. Quinn knew it. She chose not to say a word. "I'll start looking tomorrow. There has to be someone."

Quinn sighed and couldn't believe she was going to say what she was going to say. "Maybe Frannie needs a break. Some people do, you know. They take breaks. I've heard that she's been doing well so far."

Not that she'd know. She hadn't heard someone play in five years.

Russell shot her a look and pursed his lips. "Quinn, I'm sorry, but you're not actually the first person I'd turn to for advice on this matter."

Oh great, check it out; yet another indirectly negative message meant just for her. Was it remind-Quinn-of-her-failure day? She didn't remember receiving that memo, or she would have prepared herself. She should have learned to just shut up by now.

"Russell…" Quinn waited for her mother to continue; perhaps even mount a minor defense in her honor. But it was just that. Nothing more. Of course.

"Do you want me to set the table, Mom?" Frannie asked, already standing up. Quinn knew she was just trying to diffuse the tension.

Quinn sighed and pushed herself to stand. She didn't want to sit there and let her father send her messages any longer. "I'll help," she muttered.

They laid out everything on the table religiously. Spoons. Forks. Knives. Wineglasses for the adults. Normal glasses for the children. Plates. No dessert dinnerware at all. Generally, Quinn wouldn't have minded. It was a routine her father had set long ago and it was her job to follow it. It would be nice though, if occasionally, her family could be one of those order-in-pizza-day families because the children deserved it or the mother was too lazy to cook. But no, nope. Steaks for everyone.

Quinn helped her mother lay some of the food on the table in a neat row, and then stood behind to her sister as she waited for her mother. She laid her chin on Frannie's shoulder and smiled when she smiled.

"Funny. I'm taller than you," she croaked. "And you're 18."

Frannie laughed soundlessly. Quinn always wondered how she did that. "You're too good, Quinn," Frannie said quietly.

Quinn kissed her sister's cheek in gratitude. "Are you sad that Mr. Ryerson died?"

Frannie shrugged the shoulder opposite the one Quinn was resting on. "I don't know," she whispered. "Are you?"

Quinn didn't know Mr. Ryerson that well. Every time he came to their house, he would go straight to the piano room. A room that Quinn never went near. "Kinda reminds me of Grammy," Quinn whispered, lowering her head so her eyes would be covered by Frannie's shoulder.

That was enough to end their little conversation. Suddenly, Judy was calling out to help lay out the rest of the food and sit at the table. Quinn watched Frannie very properly put the napkin on her lap and make sure her elbows were off the table. She was always so well mannered. So proper. So Fabray. All her life, Quinn had never known Frannie to go through the rebellious phase most teens went through. Quinn had hers five years ago. Frannie was always just the good girl. The golden one.

Every day, Quinn would wish that Frannie would just be a normal teenager. Her teenage years were coming to an end. She deserved to at least be allowed to make inappropriate jokes, or hang out with friends, or just laugh for ridiculous reasons at least once in her life.

In their house, childhood, like grief, was an episode merely tolerated. It was viewed as an inconvenience and an obstacle to the real work of life: proving to the world and to yourself that you weren't just an organism made of particles taking up unnecessary space.

So Frannie was stuck here. In this house. With that piano and an overbearing father breathing down her neck. Quinn remembered when she was the one who was stuck. She wasn't sure she would ever want that again, and she certainly never thought that it would now be Frannie's turn

The arrangement was odd, and felt a bit backwards to her. It was supposed to the older sibling messing up and then the younger one would bear the pressure of not making the same mistakes. But her father was rigid; her mother was a Stepford wife. Her grandfather couldn't do anything. Her grandmother died.

She flapped her napkin out dramatically, just to make her sister smile.

Maybe it was a good thing she was such a perfect kid. It left her free to screw things up for both of them.

And lord knows how much she'd messed up.

Frannie never came into her room early in the morning. Today she did. Which meant she overslept again. Quinn leaped out of bed and took a really quick shower. Her sister was on her bed waiting as she came out and walked into the closet.

"What kind of day is it today?" she called from the closet as she stared at her clothes.

Frannie hummed. "Go with grey. Take an umbrella on your way out."

Quinn hummed in return and pulled on a grey blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned, matched with a pair of pale blue skinny jeans. She ran out of the closet, shoved everything on her desk into her backpack, kissed Frannie hurriedly on the cheek and rushed downstairs.

She went into the kitchen and saw a salad plate with a BLT sitting on the counter. Her housekeeper clicked her tongue at her and tapped the counter repeatedly. She grinned gratefully at her. The bread hung off her teeth as she gave Mercedes a thumb's up and then rushed out to the front door where her father was waiting for her.

"I'm not even going to say it," Russell said, his voice thick with annoyance as he opened the door, throwing Quinn her set of keys.

"You could've just gone yourself. I don't mind driving out alone," Quinn said.

"I like going out with you together," he answered.

It was sort of heartwarming to Quinn that he still waited to leave with her, just to keep up with this tradition. When she had first gotten her driving license, she asked him if they could drive out together so he could watch over her until they went their separate ways. He had agreed, and they continued as the years passed.

"I don't wanna make you late for work!" Quinn exclaimed. Her car beeped when she pressed the button on the key fob.

Russell gave her a look over the top of his car and then shook his head. "Just drive, Quinn."

Quinn stayed behind him as they headed out to the streets. When they were about to turn to their respective directions, Russell raised up a hand so she could see it from behind. She raised her own – he always said he could see it but she wasn't too sure – and then she turned right after he drove straight ahead.

She didn't care that she was already two minutes late. She couldn't function without caffeine in her system. She pulled up outside of Lima Bean and came out three minutes later sipping from a Venti Americano, and then she broke just about every traffic law, making it to her school in five minutes.

She skipped out and almost forgot to lock her car before running in. The hallways were empty and she groaned in frustration. Her running steps echoed in the hallways as she ran to her first class of the day which she was already ten minutes late to, English. Hopefully, Miss Avery would understand. Quinn was the teacher's pet after all.

There had been a random Tuesday, and Miss Avery had been droning on about some obscure Dylan Thomas poem that no one comprehended. Quinn had made a comment that she couldn't remember now if she had tried, but it seemed to make Miss Avery happy. At the end of the class, Miss Avery gifted her a personal copy of the Thomas book.

"In thanks for saving this hour from total pointlessness," she'd said.

She started hanging around her room whenever she didn't feel like having lunch or when she had a free period. They would sometimes talk about poems, books, or anything else that was on their minds. Other times, they would just sit in their own corners and doing their own things.

They were friends.

She opened the door as slowly as she could; wishing so hard that the damn door would do her a favor and not creak this time.

Please, please, please, please, she mouthed and managed to slip through the space she had made. She grinned triumphantly and gave the door quiet thanks. Luckily for her, Miss Avery had her back to Quinn, allowing her to successfully slip into her seat without making so much of a noise.

"Miss Fabray," Miss Avery said with her back to her. Quinn's eyes widened. Shit. "Nice of you to finally make an appearance. Should I feel honored?"

The rest of the class snickered at her. Quinn sighed and shrugged. "Maybe."

Miss Avery turned around then and strode towards Quinn, stopping abruptly in front of her desk. "Maybe?" she asked, both eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Miss Avery was very young for a teacher. Quinn wasn't exactly sure how old, but figured it couldn't be much more than twenty-seven. Quinn had come to the realization that English was her current favorite class because she had a crush on Miss Avery. It wasn't that big of a surprise because Quinn had experienced similar cases before.

Older. But not too old. Attractive. Gender didn't matter – which was also one of the reasons she was the family screw up.

The blonde smiled innocently at the teacher. "Well, I overslept because I stayed up late to complete the essay you assigned to us." She pulled the papers from her backpack and handed them to Miss Avery. "There, all done."

Miss Avery flipped through the essay, scanning the words before her eyes returned to Quinn. Quinn did not relent. Miss Avery finally sighed and shook her head, but Quinn's grin grew wider because she could see a hint of smile tugging on the corners of Miss Avery's lips.

"I do hope that you won't repeat this again in the near future, Miss Fabray," Miss Avery quipped as she walked towards her desk at the front of the classroom.

Quinn couldn't help but stare at Miss Avery's curvy bottom. She cleared her throat and nodded. "I'll try my best, Miss Avery."

Damn, her ass was something.

Miss Avery asked her to stay after the bell rang. When everybody was out of the class, she beckoned Quinn to her big desk at the front. She looked at Quinn with concern.

"Quinn," she addressed Quinn. "Is there a problem at home?"

Quinn blinked and she cleared her throat. "Nothing. I just…my sister's piano tutor passed away last night and it got a bit messy because there's this showcase at the end of next month and…you know," she drifted off with a sigh. "I'm sorry for being late. I'll work on it."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss," Miss Avery then said. "I'm letting you off the hook this time, Quinn. But I really hope there's no next time."

"I'll work on it," Quinn said again.

Miss Avery smiled. "I'll write you a pass for your next class." See, one of the many reasons she liked Miss Avery. She could be quite forgiving. Or maybe it was just for Quinn.

"Thanks."

When Quinn was on her way out, Miss Avery stopped her again. "The piano thing," she began with hesitance, as though she were walking into a minefield. "Didn't you play piano before?"

Quinn was surprised that she didn't faint or do anything drastic at the mention of her past. Her awful, family-image ruining past. She merely smiled with a shrug. "I don't do that anymore.

Quinn sat at lunch with her regular group of friends, consisting of her best of best friends, Santana Lopez, her girlfriend, Brittany Pierce, and the resident bad boy of the school, Noah Puckerman. They met each other in preschool and had been friends ever since.

Sometimes, Puck's best friend, the quarterback of the school's football team, Finn Hudson would join them. The only reason he would join them was because he was trying to court Quinn. It wasn't working really well in his case. He wasn't stupid, but he wasn't smart either. He was just dim in some departments and Quinn just couldn't get into him. He could be kind of endearing at times and Quinn would sometimes enjoy talking with him.

Today, Finn was already at their table when she arrived. His face lit up like a puppy with a bone. Quinn grinned at him, sitting across from him and next to Santana, who was sharing a bag of Dorito's with Brittany.

Quinn didn't have many friends. She had tons of numbers saved in her phone but most of them were merely acquaintances. Some of them would text her to ask about homework or invite her to parties and that was that. They didn't talk about boys or life or anything special.

This group of people was special to her. She could talk about almost anything with them, except one particular thing. And they knew that they should never bring it up unless she did it herself.

"Mr Ryerson died," was the first thing she said once she sat down. She pinched open the edge of her milk carton and drank from it. They looked at her in curiosity and shock. "Said it was a stroke or something."

"So what's going to happen to Frannie's showcase?" Santana asked.

"My father's looking for a new tutor," Quinn answered. "I believe Frannie's going to make it anyway with or without a tutor. She's amazing already." Quinn looked at Santana to see that she was going to say something but Quinn's raised eyebrow stopped her. "I know she'll be amazing."

The subject was quickly dropped and they moved on to other subjects. Brittany's cat was sick. Santana's father got a promotion at the hospital. Puck's pool cleaning business was going well. Finn found a job at Breadstix. Quinn hoped he wouldn't say anything stupid to the customers while he was there.

After school, Quinn drove to Lima Bean and picked up an apple pie and coffee. She drove back to school and went to Miss Avery's classroom. She wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't there. She was probably somewhere chaperoning club activities. She put the apple pie and coffee on the desk and scribbled a note.

Good afternoon. Sorry that I was late today again. I'll bet you this pie that I'm on time tomorrow.

She considered drawing a winky face but took a moment to consider her mediocre drawing skills. With her luck it would probably turn out looking like a face suffering from a heart attack. She instead capped her pen and stuck the note to the pie and left.

Crushing on a teacher. Kind of pathetic.

It was a pretty good day so far.

Until it wasn't.

Quinn couldn't hear her father's knock. She had her headphones in and the volume was turned up pretty loud. Avicii's Wake Me Up was blasting in her ears when she saw her phone light up next to her pile of homework. It was her dad.

She didn't bother to answer. She paused the music and unhooked her headphones. She opened the door to see Russell glaring at her with his phone to his ear. She tried to smile at him apologetically but he didn't respond. He just strode in without invitation at all. Rude. And very him.

His tie was loose. His dress shirt's sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. It was obvious he didn't have a very good day at work. She told herself to try to not piss him off any more than she had today. He stood akimbo while she slipped back onto her bed.

"What's up?" she asked warily.

"Tell me what's it like to have a stroke."

She blinked at him rapidly and then released a soft laugh. "What?" He raised an eyebrow at her. Yep, she totally inherited it from him. "Dad, I don't know what a heart attack feels like, because if I did, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

He closed his eyes and expelled a harsh breath. "I'm asking you because you took some EMT classes with that friend of yours during summer break. Is it really not possible to save someone from a stroke?"

"I don't know. I just took a few and most of them involved minor cases. But some strokes are…salvageable, I guess." Quinn winced at her wording. But her father was making her nervous. "I don't really know."

"Why didn't anyone call us right away?" his father muttered.

Like you called me about grandma? Quinn didn't say that out loud but she was still angry at her parents and her grandfather about what happened. She clenched her jaw and shuffled on her bed to keep her temper at bay. She didn't bother answering him because that question wasn't intended for her. It was rhetorical.

A moment passed and Quinn saw something flashed through his eyes. "You can't call Will," she snapped. He looked at her in surprise. "I don't care who you find, but William Schuester is untouchable."

William Schuester – or Will – was her Mr Ryerson. Only less robotic and not sour or scary. He was a mentor as well as a teacher; like a cool uncle. A cool uncle Quinn had no doubt she had disappointed.

"Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?" Russell snapped in return.

"Dad," Quinn whispered in disbelief. Russell glared at her while Quinn just stared. She wouldn't dare glare at her own father. "You can't call Will." Her voice was quivering.

"We'll get somebody," Russell finally said, the edge in his voice almost gone. He stopped to touch her head on his way out. "You should dry your hair before you go to sleep."

"I like it natural."

"It's look so much be-"

"I like it natural," Quinn stressed. She jerked her head away and shifted back a foot or two.

Russell gazed at her for awhile. Quinn didn't know what lurked in his eyes – her eyes – but she could very well feel the sadness and disappointment emanating from him. She heard him bade a soft goodnight before closing the door behind him.

Quinn looked up and saw the photo of her playing on a dimly lit stage hanging by the door. It was the Loretta Himmelman International in which she placed seventh. It was a prideful achievement for a ten-year-old kid. She wasn't even sure if she was a kid at that age. All she remembered was how tired and old she felt. Her mind was probably more than a thousand years old by now.

That whole week, though, had been a dream. They had gone to Salt Lake City and stayed at this classy hotel – her grandfather, her mother, Frannie and Quinn. Her father was in Beijing at the time. They had egg rolls and waffles for breakfast. They drank hot chocolate. Maybe it was the friend she had made there, Katie. Or maybe it was the lack of her father's anxiety over every trivial detail. Maybe it was her adoration for the piece she was to play. The Rhapsody in B Minor. Her mother wanted her to play something showier. Her father had almost fired Will Schuester for it. She and Will wanted to show everyone that she could pull off being expressive as well as technical.

That week had felt like the last time she had been truly happy. She placed seventh. Her father was proud but his anxiety grew; his need to win at everything expanded. He applied pressure on both her and Will. She placed top three in all the competitions she participated in since then. But the sense of accomplishment was gone when she landed her fifth championship.

It kept on until her grandmother died. She was twelve.

Quinn tore her eyes away from the photo and focused on completing her homework for the next half hour before packing up her backpack. She turned off the lights and laid on the floor next to her bed. It was her and her grandmother's thing. Laying on the floor at night and staring up at the ceiling and listening to the other making up ridiculous stories and just be there by each other's side.

She drifted off to sleep.

"Lucy Q, you are gonna be the most beautiful and talented pianist in the future. Just remember what Grammy always tell you: don't hear; feel."

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