Chapter Two – Sketchy Starts

Rachel, after their disastrous first face-to-face meeting, endeavored to put Quinn out of her mind. Not immediately and not quite effectively, but she was doing her best. While she still noticed a fair bit of Quinn's actions, she was fairly certain that no one, including Quinn, could tell and she figured that this was probably for the best.

When she had first noticed Quinn's interest in her, she had tried not to assume the exact nature of said interest. After all, everyone knows what happens when people assume. So, in an effort to cover all her bases, Rachel indulged in some low level espionage and some light background research – all in a decidedly un-creepy manner of course, she wasn't Jacob Ben Isreal. It's just that, aside from the various judges and audiences she had spent her childhood performing brilliantly in front of, most people did not pay that much attention to her, especially not attention that looked to be benign.

According to her completely not creepy and totally necessary research, Quinn really was the prototypical American dream girl. She appeared to inherit her knock-them-dead, good looks from her mother (Judy Fabray, housewife and mother in her low forties of a waspish nature who had been head cheerleader and prom queen in her youth), but was not a vapid, dumb blond in the slightest. Quinn seemed to be typical type-A personality (most likely due to a mix of nature and nurture from her dad, Russell Fabray, who was a pitcher in high school and remained an active member of the town) who got straight As and managed two Christian-themed extracurricular activities and participated in the Sue Sylvester watched and supported Junior Cheerios. Most people liked her well enough and certainly respected her, but many did warn about getting on her bad side because she might ruin your life.

Basically, she seemed relatable and understandable to Rachel (who might also be type-A personality who has no qualms about stepping on others to get what she wants), but also not someone who would put up with the singer. Rachel did not delude herself. While she might not be thrown in dumpsters, she didn't really have any friends and she knew it was because her mix of enthusiasm and ruthlessness made her decidedly difficult to like. The only people who seemed to not mind her were very easygoing people who generally found her amusing at best. Then again, most of the type-A people she met were her competition and, thus, "the enemy."

Yet, Quinn hadn't been glaring at her or sneering with disdain. It was never a set look really. Sometimes, Rachel thought it was curiosity. Other times, it seemed like her face was glowing with delight. Rachel's favorite was when it wasn't quite delight, but this soft expression with a small smile and bright eyes. A few times, though, it was this curious mix that Rachel couldn't adequately describe, which was annoying. It looked like Quinn was trying to keep hold of her mask, so it looked impassive for the most part, but her eyes tightened and her face seemed a bit stiff. It was intense, as if Quinn was trying to look through her or something, but also a bit frustrating because of Rachel's inability to properly read it. It made her feel weird, though.

But, after looking through all the gathered data on Quinn, she had still decided to greet Quinn. It wasn't due to the looks she gave or the early data, because that was all inconclusive to her cause, but when she looked a bit closer (not stalking!). Like how in History class – one of the few they didn't share – Quinn completed all the extra credit assignments even though she had a high A in the class. How she had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Franklin after Art one day – a class they did share – after they had discussed photography, and left ten minutes later with materials they hadn't been given in class. The fact that she had given Santana – her frienemy – the last cupcake during lunch when she had been staring at them the entire time she was in line. [Rachel would never know that Sue Sylvester had a secret weigh-in prepared for the Junior Cheerios that would go a long way to discovering a future line up, or that Quinn Fabray had used her own non-creepy espionage skills to discover this.]

Despite these factors that had been the primary reason for shifting their dynamic and going out of her way to extend a greeting, she had been shot down. Not so much by Quinn, but a verbal harassment by Santana – which probably meant worse things in her future – and silence from the girl in question was just as discouraging. So Rachel was committed to ignoring Quinn from this point forward. If her start is a little shaky, then that just means she has to put extra special effort into it. Because, despite what she interpreted before, Quinn might have been staring in disgust. Maybe that intense, indecipherable look just meant that she was barely holding herself back from violence. She didn't thinks so, but her skills at reading people were limited and one of the few things she did not have much faith in. Rachel will be the first to admit that she is sometimes confused in her social interactions.

While she could certainly be clever and was generally able to manipulate a situation to her advantage, it was usually by taking advantage of the rules and logistics of a situation. If she thought one of the judges in a competition would bring her down due to a self-righteous prejudice against, say, her two gay dads, she would find a loop-hole in his contract or examine his personal activities to disqualify him. She wouldn't make up lies or anything, just use the truth to her advantage. But she is hapless at emotionally manipulating people. She has found that, for whatever reason, people never really act the way she expects them too, and, once again, this had happened. She had honestly thought that Quinn would be dying to meet her and was maybe, secretly, a little shy…well, maybe not shy per say, but hidden and closed off to an extent that Rachel would have to make the first move in what she had assumed would be a loving and lifelong friendship. Since she was not just wrong, but humiliatingly wrong, it was best to just pull herself out of the situation and keep her eyes averted.

Unfortunately, this idea that she could just stop taking notice of Quinn and her stares was quite false. Maybe it was the intensity that they still held for the most part, maybe it was their continued frequency, or maybe it was just that, despite her disbelief, she really did want Quinn's interest to be a positive thing, but she still took notice of Quinn's actions in relationship to her. Now though, instead of meeting her eyes with a smile, Rachel observed subtly and acted ignorant. And that is how she noticed it one day.

It was art class and they were working with clay. Rachel actually had little interest in most traditional forms of art. While she could appreciate a gorgeous sculpture or painting and found some of the history behind it lovely, it definitely was not where her interest lay (which was, of course, on the stage and with the music). Nevertheless, there are many creative outlets and, during her reconnaissance, she had decided that Quinn's may lie somewhere in this room. Maybe not clay though, because Quinn was currently rolling her eyes at something a dopey looking boy was saying to her as she repeatedly smashed her mound of clay violently against the table. Mr. Franklin had not explained anything to them, just handing them precut rectangles of clay with the direction of "going wild" whatever that meant.

"It's an exercise in creativity and resourcefulness. I'll look over everyone's work and let you know what you did wrong and what you did right, but the most important thing is that you get a feel for the clay, so have at it," he said with a carefree grin and leaving them to their work as he sat at his desk. In Rachel's opinion, it was a lackluster effort on his part and a failure of the school system. If she was going to have to waste her time in this class futzing around with paints and clays and other such messy mediums instead being able to take another music class – or even a free period which she could spend further perfecting her various talents – then at the very least, Mr. Franklin should give them detailed and exact instructions on how to perform in the class. Nevertheless, the Rachel Berry method says 100%, therefore she would put 100% into this "going wild."

As she was "going wild" by creating a perfect replica of Elphaba's broom – the epitome of going wild really - (and it was not lopsided or misshapen!) she did notice that Quinn had once again let her eyes drift in Rachel's direction. The dopey boy she had been speaking to was currently engaged in what appeared to be a clay fight with another boy so she was free to work on her clay in piece. She appeared to just be playing with, though. She had apparently turned it into a sphere already and was mostly just running her fingers over it gently, occasionally adding water, but mostly staring with a far off look in her eye. She actually appeared to be daydreaming, so maybe it really wasn't about her this time.

To test her theory, Rachel dropped her clay broom on the floor and quickly dropped to pick it up, quickly rolling the piece back together. She decided to go with pot instead – not because her broom looked like snake that swallowed a rat as Noah Puckerman had implied a moment ago – and glanced over at Quinn who now appeared to be working very diligently on her clay sphere. It was all a little confusing, but Rachel put it to the back of her mind and got to work on her pot as there wasn't much time left and she had no idea was she was doing, which was a rarity she might add.

She did notice, though, when the teacher – though Rachel (privately) hesitates to call him as such until he starts to actually teach – goes around to look at what the students created. She is glaring at her indented blob when she hears him speak to Quinn, though it's hard to hear over the commotion of the other students anxious to leave. It is a good thing Quinn somehow ended up sitting one row over, so she can listen in without exposing herself.

"Wow, is this your first time working with clay?" he asks, holding her piece in his hands at an angle Rachel can't see.

"Yeah, I wasn't really, I mean, I don't know any techniques or anything. I was just…whatever the clay version of doodling is," she states, a little uncharacteristically flustered.

"No, it's really good, especially for your first time," he is quick to compliment, but Rachel is sure he actually means it. She really wishes she could see whatever it was Quinn made. "Is it supposed to be anyone in particular?"

"No! Umm, I mean, it's just… random. Just trying to get a feel for the clay if we're going to be working on it a lot," Quinn states, her features becoming stiff and cold.

"Oh, well, we won't be doing much with the clay, actually. We have a very limited supply and don't have the budget for any real equipment, so we just try to let you guys see if it's any interest for you to pursue further later. We even have to try to reuse the clay if you can believe that, so if you can add this to the pile at the front before you leave? But it is really good. Next week, though, we start on our section on drawing and what that leads to and that will take most of the time." He hands her piece back and goes to look at Noah Puckerman's clay representation of the female anatomy, but Rachel is unable to see what Quinn created before she smashes it into a ball and stomps out of the room, not without a quick glance at Rachel.

While Quinn had participated and, apparently showed talent with the clay, – though she had made fairly nondescript bowls the rest of the week – she hadn't truly shown much enthusiasm. When they began the section on drawing, far more prolonged than the rest of what they studied as it was the cheapest section, Quinn became much more engaged, although she hid it well. They began on the next Monday, once again starting the unit by "fooling around" to get a feel for it, which was somewhat ridiculous since it was drawing and, if you looked in the various notebooks and boy's bathroom stalls, the students in this room already had decent experience. Quinn kept a slightly bored expression on her face, but collected the cheap paper and began searching for "any object in the room that inspires you to put pencil to paper."

Rachel, seated just to Quinn's left across the aisle, turned slightly so that she was half-facing Quinn and scanned the room for an object. Before she found an object that sufficiently started her creative motor, though, she found herself watching as Noah turned around in seat to talk to Quinn.

"So, Sexy," he began, a lewd smirk that was unbefitting for a proper Jewish boy tugging at his lips, "how about you lie across this table and shed some of those layers so I can get properly inspired?" Of course Noah Puckerman, who had gone to the same Temple as her but much less consistently, would immediately start on the nearest "hot chick." They hadn't gone to the same school, Rachel didn't know if he had gone to Quinn's or not, but there was only one Temple in the community, so they had seen each other growing up.

They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, and Rachel was pretty sure that the Puckerman family only went to Temple as much as they did because it was so close to their house – a decent distance from Rachel's – but Rachel had seen him right after his dad had left the family. It was when they first started going to Temple for a while and Noah's mother had sent him off to be with the other kids, few as they were. During this time, his mother seemed like she didn't know what to do and was hoping to get some solace from the community she hadn't seen in a while, solace they were glad to give, but Noah just seemed broken. He was already using the Puck nickname, she knew because another kid that apparently lived close by called him that once, but his mother introduced him as Noah, and he didn't seem to care enough to correct them. Rachel tried to be kind and supportive in Temple, but Noah mostly shrugged it all off and generally seemed to start getting angrier. Eventually, they stopped showing up as much, coming inconsistently at best. But he was apparently just as rowdy and disrespectful, shoving kids in the hallway and talking back to teachers.

"I'm sure that my body inspires you, Puckerman, but it would take a lot of alcohol to get me to even hang out around you, much less strip. Besides, I'm pretty sure that's not what Franklin meant," Quinn practically snarled, a tone of voice that Rachel had yet to hear.

Noah turned to the teacher and waved him down, "Yo, teach, you said anything that gets are juices flowing, right? Even a person?"

Mr. Franklin gave a non-committal hand wave and focused on another student, the standard response for teachers at this school when dealing with Noah.

"So that's a yes from him, Babe. What do you say me and you get inspired together?" he continued, leaning close to Quinn with an admittedly seductive grin.

"Back off, turn around, and don't talk to me for the rest of the period. And if you want to move somewhere else altogether, I would love the chance to breathe without choking on the Axe you apparently drenched yourself in instead of taking a shower," Quinn snapped, before looking determined at her paper and beginning a sketch. Noah dropped the smirk and turned back around to his own paper, grumbling the entire time. If Rachel knew him at all, though – and she sorta did – Quinn's rejection would just incite him to go to greater lengths. He always seemed to want what he couldn't have, hence the reason he was constantly in trouble with people of authority.

Seeing everyone else working, Rachel stayed facing her half-tilting direction towards Quinn and Noah and began to sketch the back of Noah's head – Because This Class Was A Joke! She tried to ignore the occasional prickling as Quinn glanced at her every so often and set to making the perfect mohawk – from the back.

The rest of the class passed quickly and soon the students who had finished started to get antsy and talkative. Still Quinn stayed quiet and absorbed in her work all the way to the end of class when Mr. Franklin let them go, asking them to leave their pieces in a pile in the front of the classroom. Rachel hurried after Quinn who nonchalantly dropped hers in the pile and left the room without a backwards glance. Rachel looked down to see what the other girl had drawn and was puzzled at what she saw.

It was a very pretty drawing, full of detail, but Rachel highly doubted that Quinn had seen that item in the classroom. It was an old-fashioned carousel, magnificently done, with curtains on both sides framing it. She left the room confused and it wasn't until she made it to the bathroom and looked in the mirror that the puzzle pieces clicked. She stared at the mirror then glanced down at the carousel horse portrayed on her sweater with her dark hair flowing down on each side.

"Huh…"