Quinn

I shoved my fingertips into my eyes, trying desperately not to cry. I couldn't remember a more painful first day of school. Life had actually been easier when I was pregnant. At least being pregnant had given me something to look forward to. Now I had lost everything.

I, Quinn Fabray, was no longer a Cheerio, and not for lack of trying. It was just evil for Coach Sylvester to hold tryouts the week before we went back to school so that she could put the list up on our first day. I wasn't sure if I would be reinstated as the captain, but I'd been certain that I was going to make the squad. Turned out, I was wrong on both accounts.

"Coach!" I stormed into her office, clad my uniform, and put my hands on my hips. She looked up from writing in her journal (which I only know about after stealing it once) to study me, peering critically over her glasses. Removing them slowly, she pursed her lips.

"Q," she acknowledged me with a nod. "I've been expecting you."

"I'm back down to my pre-pregnancy weight," I began, approaching her desk and barely resisting the urge to slam it with my fist. "I gave my baby up for adoption. I'll quit the stupid glee club if that's what you really want from me. Just put me back on the squad."

"Ah, Q…" She rested back in her chair, smiling calmly at me, only making me angrier. "I wish I had that on tape. You'd give up your precious little glee club just to be a Cheerio once again. Will Schuester's greasy hair would curl if he - oh wait, that's right…"

I bit my lip and looked at my shoes.

"Fact is," she went on. "Having the baby seems to have affected your form, Q. When you fumbled the landing on your double back handspring, back tuck during tryouts, that sealed the deal for me. What's done is done. You didn't make the cut."

I balled my hands into fists and let out a scream in frustration. I wanted nothing more than to leap across her desk and strangle her. This had nothing to do with my abilities! She was getting even with me for everything - for getting pregnant, for joining glee club, for having the nerve to stand up to her.

"Becky Jackson can't do those stunts, yet you let her be on the team," I pointed out, with as much restraint as I could muster.

But Coach Sylvester fixed me with a cold stare, letting me know I had just crossed the line with that comment. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I turned to leave. What was the point? There was no way she was letting me back on that squad."

"Oh, and Q?"

I looked over my shoulder, wondering what she could possibly say to me now. Going to taunt me about having a baby at sixteen? Wasn't ruining my life and throwing me off the Cheerios enough?

"Get that uniform dry cleaned and returned to me by tomorrow."

And with a cry of anguish, I hurried out of there as fast as I could, leaving all my dignity behind in her office. I ran blindly down the halls, which were thankfully empty. I had lost everything.

You may think that I was overreacting, that losing Cheerios isn't losing everything. But it isn't just Cheerios. I lost my boyfriend, my social status, and my daddy all in one year. My parents had just finalized their divorce, sealing the deal that I was truly a divorce kid. The hardest part was that I knew I was responsible for all of it. When I told my parents I was pregnant, my dad immediately kicked me out, but my mom hadn't wanted to go along with it. I was certain that this had been the final nail in the coffin of their failed marriage. Me.

The worst part was losing her. I missed my baby girl.

The tears fell quickly as I ran. I had intended to make it to my car so that I could cry there, away from prying eyes as I always did. I could only hope that Terri Schuester wouldn't be waiting to ambush me this time. But I didn't make it to my car because I nearly toppled over a person who only came up to my waist.

Artie put out his hands to catch me before I landed in his lap. We both began apologizing, even though neither of us was at fault for turning the corner of the hall at the very same time. When I straightened up, I saw that he had gotten a good luck at my face and could see that I had been crying.

"I heard you broke up with Puck."

"I heard that Tina broke up with you."

We both stood, or rather I stood, there awkwardly for a few seconds, neither of us knowing what to say after that. It wasn't as though I often sought out Artie for deep, intimate conversation. And yet, he had caught me at my most vulnerable. Finally, Artie was the first to speak.

"I came to get a look at the New Directions sign up sheet," he said, and I mentally thanked him for not mentioning the tears in my eyes. He pointed and I realized that were standing right by the bulletin board. I had to look away. The Cheerios list was posted on that board.

He seemed to realize what I couldn't bring myself to look at. "Oh," he said, without meeting my eyes. "I'm really sorry, Quinn."

"Yeah, well," I swiped angrily at my cheek, annoyed that I had let myself openly cry over it. "Coach Sylvester says my tumbling wasn't up to par, but I'm not that stupid. I know I ruined the reputation of the Cheerios by getting pregnant."

"I'm sorry," he said, and I felt ridiculous, telling my problems to the kid in the wheelchair, the kid that was, oddly enough, not doing his usual impression of Steve Urkel with his wardrobe. He actually looked kind of stylish, but I couldn't be bothered to mention that.

"And, yes, I did break up with Puck," I went on, figuring it didn't matter any more. Artie had shown up at the wrong time, and now he would have to hear all of it. "And I'm the mean, heartless one because he told me he loved me. But I can't do it. I don't want to be with the guy who got me pregnant. I'm just not that into him."

Artie avoided my eyes and played with those yellow and black gloves. I knew he had to wear those things, although they looked slightly more appropriate with his black shirt than they had with those boring, white dress shirts. I sighed impatiently, wishing that the geek would say something.

"Would you like me to write your name on the list for glee?" I finally asked, knowing full well that he couldn't reach the list from where he sat.

He didn't answer right away. And then, meeting my eyes, he shook his head slowly. "I can't do it," he said, almost in a whisper. "I can't watch Tina and Mike every day. I was lucky enough not to have them in my classes. If I bail out of glee this year, I might be able to avoid them altogether."

"Well, bailing on glee doesn't sound like a bad idea to me," I said, putting my hands on my hips and looking at the sign up sheet. There were people I wanted to avoid as well. Every single member of New Directions had already put their names on the list, save for Artie and myself. There were a couple of new names on the list, too. Some guy named Sam and some girl named Charice.

"You want to bail out, too?" Artie asked, looking at me, incredulously. "Quinn, if you didn't make Cheerios, glee is all you've got. Hate to point that out, but… yeah."

"You have the sensitivity of a blunt axe, Wheels."

He shrugged. "I try." Artie was kind of cute when he wasn't all buttoned up and formal. This slouchy, emo boy look was kind of becoming on him. But no sense in telling him that, it would just make him conceited. And I was sick of talking to conceited boys.

"I saw the way you looked at them," I finally said, thinking back to that dance and Artie's face when Tina and Mike waltzed right in front of him. Maybe it was the hormones, but it kind of broke my heart. He knew I had noticed because of the way I'd touched his shoulder. "It's killing you, isn't it?"

Another shrug. "If I were a better boyfriend, I could have changed things," he said, looking as though it cost him a lot to admit this. "But I wasn't, and so it is what it is. I had my chance with Tina, and now Mike gets to have her. I'll be fine as long as I'm not forced to watch."

I looked at that list again. There was no way in hell I could stand to be in the same room with Puck and Santana and Finn and Rachel. I thought of the happy couples, still innocently enjoying their teen romances, tragically unaware of real consequences like an unplanned pregnancy. Or how about a messy divorce? Being pregnant had aged me. I was wise beyond my years.

Beside that list was another list. As I studied it, my face suddenly broke out into a grin. Little Shop of Horrors. The theatre department was doing my favorite show. When I was fourteen, we took a family vacation to New York City. I wanted to see something on Broadway and Daddy insisted this show was the one to see. I was skeptical. I wanted to see something like Phantom of the Opera or Chicago, but it was Daddy's birthday so we went to the one he had chosen. It turned out to be an amazing show, hilarious and heartwarming, complete with a big giant plant in the finale.

I wrote down both of our names to audition.

"QUINN!" Artie's eyes bulged out of his skull. "I don't want to be in a musical. Are you insane?" With a roll of his eyes, he took off down the hallway. But he didn't understand. I had to make him see it my way. I took off running after him, reaching out to grab his wheelchair by the handles. But Artie had put a kink in my plan. I now had to get in front of him to stop him.

"Why doesn't your wheelchair have handles anymore?"

He blinked in confusion, possibly offended by the way I'd just jumped in front of him, grabbing him by the knees. But he said nothing of it and answered my question instead.

"I got a new one this summer," he said, with a shrug. "I didn't want handles anymore."

"Oh." It seemed like a stupid choice. What if he got tired? There wasn't a good way for someone else to push him now. "Well, uh, neat. Listen, you have to do this musical with me. You have to. You are Seymour Krelborn. And I happen to think I'd make a pretty great Audrey."

Artie scowled. "I don't appreciate the comparison, Quinn," he said. "Seymour's a super nerd. I've… changed."

"Please do this with me, Artie!" I didn't know why, but I felt the need to beg him. I just needed a push from someone to step out of my comfort zone for this, and besides, he really would look the part when he was back in his suspenders and bow ties.

Artie didn't answer right away, but I could tell the idea was starting to appeal to him. Surely, he had to see this as an appropriate replacement for glee club. On one of the many occasions that Man Hands had quit, she'd opted to audition for the musical, too. Finally, he sighed, as though it were painful to admit that it could actually be a good idea.

"Alright, I'm in."