At the Crossroads
11.
You managed to scare everyone into silence by getting Puck to hang Jacob Ben Israel by his underwear to his open locker. Everyone knows Quinn Fabray got very drunk at Puck's Halloween party, but no one has really figured out why. You're content with this because you're busy trying to ignore the actual reasons you drank yourself into a stupor that had you hugging Santana, Brittany, and Santana's toilet at the end of the night.
You're back on track, but Cheerios practice is taking a toll on you. You take a seat on the locker room bench, having taken your time to shower so the other girls would be done before you. You're in your underwear, wincing as you poke at your red knees. You take a deep breath and bend both knees up. They practically creek, and if they didn't ache so much, you would laugh at how pathetic you must look.
You sigh and consider Coach Sylvester's earlier ultimatum. You pull the towel from your hair and run your fingers through your damp locks, huffing a bit as you recall Coach telling you, Brittany, and Santana that your time with glee is up—"We have a trophy to take home, and they can't go to Sectionals without you. Time to leave them high and dry, ladies."
Santana and Brittany went to tell Mr. Schuester during homeroom, and you would follow up during lunch. You knew there would come a time when you would have to choose, but you ignored the possibility that you would want both worlds.
You realize you're staring into space when the locker room door bursts open and in storms an all-too energetic and frustrated looking Rachel Berry.
"Berry, do you know what the hell privacy is?!" you shout, covering yourself with your towel.
"Do you know what loyalty is?!" she yells back. You see her eyes scan your body for a half a second before she looks up at the ceiling, "I had to address this betrayal immediately."
"Could you have done it when I had clothes on, you perv?"
"No, because this is all part of my gay agenda, Quinn," she says sardonically, still looking at the ceiling. "If you could get over yourself for one second, I'd like to address the fact that I knew you would do this, and it was so freaking stupid of me to think that we could depend on you."
You stand up, breathing evenly to prevent yourself from wincing. You slip into your Cheerios skirt and top as Rachel rattles off famous feuds in musicals.
"—and that still doesn't even amount to what you've done."
"I'm dressed," you say, "and I don't know what you want me to say. Sorry?"
Rachel looks at you and puts her hands on her hips. "That would be a nice start."
"Fine. I'm sorry I'm choosing a winning team over glee," you say, deadpanning.
"You are infuriating, Quinn Fabray."
You smirk, but you give yourself away when you sit down to put on your shoes.
"Are you okay?" Rachel asks, her tone entirely different.
"I'm fine," you say, sitting still for a moment.
"You should go to the nurse," Rachel says, taking a couple careful steps toward you.
You laugh dryly, "It's fine."
"Obviously not. The amount of running Coach Sylvester has you all doing on top of your regular practices is not good for your joints. It can put a lot of strain—"
"Listen, Dr. Oz," you say, "I don't need your life advice."
Rachel seems to wilt slightly before falling into place beside you on the bench.
"Please," she says, "be a part of this." She looks at you, and you wonder how long you've gone avoiding her eyes. "I need… we need you to be at Sectionals. We could scramble for place-holders, but you three are our only hope at placing for Regionals."
You take some leggings out from your bag before pulling them on. "I can't just pass up my job as captain and deny the Cheerios another win to maybe take home some stupid show choir trophy."
"I know you know it's more than that."
"It's a dream, Rachel," you say, "It's exactly what it is."
She stands abruptly and clears her throat. "Fine. Run yourself into the ground on behalf of Coach Sylvester," she says in an apathetic tone, "but if you care about yourself, you'd ice your knees and stretch your calves and tone your quads more to prevent more strain on your knees. But you know everything, so you probably don't need to hear that. And if you care about yourself and others enough, you'd come back to glee."
You don't watch her leave—only listen to the door closing behind her. You're unsure when closed doors became associated with Rachel, but you're sure that you're the one who put the walls up in the first place.
"Make your choice, ladies."
You don't hide your glare because you can hardly believe that this McKinley feud has reached this point. Coach Sylvester is standing in front of you with her arms crossed, looking as domineering as ever, seemingly ducking under the roof of the bus. You shouldn't have even got on the bus as soon as Coach Sylvester announced moments before that the surprise finale of their act would involve shooting Brittany out of a cannon. Instead, it took you two blocks of a bus ride from the school before you jumped to your feet and told the driver to stop.
"I don't want to be a part of the worst cheerleading performance ever," Santana chimes in from behind you.
"I really…" Brittany starts, but pauses under Coach's glare, "I sort of think I might get hurt," she continues in a quiet voice, "if I get shot out of a cannon."
"She'll die if you put her in a cannon," you say clearly in as strong a voice as you can muster.
"It's approved of in thirteen third-world countries!"
"I'm pretty sure that a lack of weapons regulations in several countries hardly counts as 'approval,'" you say, crossing your own arms and standing tall.
"You three are Cheerios, not singing, dancing, mini-Will Schuesters," she says in a menacing tone. "It's either the Ohio Cheerleading Invitational, or your little glee club's Sectionals competition."
"Do you hear yourself?" Santana spits back, hugging a frightened looking Brittany. "You're willing to possibly blow apart a cheerleader—a human being—for another trophy that doesn't even affect our qualification for Nationals!"
"Shut it, Richie Ricardo!" Coach fires back.
"Racist," Santana mutters.
Coach Sylvester steps to the side between two seats and motions for you three to pass. You look at her warily before walking by. As the bus driver opens the doors, Coach Sylvester calls after you, "I expect your uniforms on my desk tomorrow morning."
You don't look back at her, and instead you decide to lift your chin and lead the brisk jog back to the school grounds.
You tell Brittany not to cry repeatedly as she blames herself in Santana's car.
"We weren't going to let you die for Cheerios," you say, clutching the handle and triple-checking that the door is locked as the engine switches gears and Santana passes several cars on the highway.
"Start getting changed," Santana says from the driver's seat, beeping at a car straggling along in the left lane.
"Why did you have our dresses in here?" you ask, reaching toward the back and pulling them from the trunk.
"I may have been hoping to grace locals with my talents at singing and dancing… and my great ass," Santana says.
You let out a small laugh, "I'm glad you're such an attention whore."
"Shut up, Fabray."
You only smile and hand Brittany her dress before awkwardly maneuvering yourself to get out of your Cheerios uniform and into your sequined dress.
You actually laugh when the group pulls you, Santana, and Brittany into a hug. Santana mutters something about them being "slobbery puppies that better not pee on her leg." Even though you see her standing off to the side, she gives you a small smile, and you let yourself smile back.
Rachel has the big opening solo, of course, and you stand in the wings of the stage when the curtains close in front of the show choir ahead of New Directions. You see Finn and Rachel standing on the other side, and they're talking as Finn takes her by the shoulders, saying something that makes Rachel smile up at him.
The announcer encourages a small applause from the audience for the previous glee club, and right before announcing the New Directions, you watch Finn lean down and kiss Rachel's cheek. She smiles up at him before looking to the stage and stepping out into the spotlight—the very place Rachel belongs.
You didn't forget how incredible Rachel is on stage, but her solo—her voice and passion in the bright light—reminded you how talented she really is, what she truly deserves in this lifetime.
The solo turns into a duet, and Finn steps out. They meet in the middle, holding hands.
"Don't tell me you want him back," Santana whispers from behind you.
You scoff, turning to face Santana and get ready behind the curtain. "I'm just making sure they don't screw up."
She rolls her eyes. "Berry wouldn't let that happen."
You see Finn give Rachel a hug before heading to the boys' dressing room. You wait a moment before following her in. The door sounds too loud when it closes behind you and you realize that it's just the two of you in there. (The other girls went to the bathroom to wash their faces of the heavy makeup.)
You don't say anything as you walk to your corner, facing the mirror so your back is to Rachel. You hear her unzip her dress, standing in her own area of the room. When you catch her movement in your mirror, you pause for a moment, watching her slip free from the garish dress so she's left in a strapless bra and underwear. You notice the dimples of her lower back, her shoulder blades, and when you catch yourself admiring her ass and the exposed skin peeking out from the bottom of her panties, you focus your attention back to your outfit.
You step into your skirt and reach for your shirt, but you notice Rachel in the mirror, looking at your back and opening her mouth as if to say something. Instead, she turns back around and begins to gather her things.
"You were really great out there," you say.
Rachel turns to you, her expression showing her surprise.
"Thanks," she says, chancing a modest grin.
You find yourself briefly enchanted by the small curve of her lips, and she scans your face, as if trying to determine any ulterior motive. Her hair is tousled from dancing and her cheeks are still a shade of light pink, and you're glad your gulp is inaudible when you admit to yourself that she looks… sexy. Rachel Berry. Sexy. Standing there in an oversized sweater and jeans.
"I mean, it's the least you can do since now I have to depend on glee to take home a Nationals' trophy."
"What do you mean?"
"Sylvester kicked us off the team," you say. "We mostly just came because we didn't want Brittany to die… It's a long story. Just… let's win it all, okay?"
Rachel is about to say something when Tina and Mercedes enter, laughing loudly. You pretend not to notice the smile she gives you, and instead you bite back your own as you pack your things.
"I mean, it's the least you can do since now I have to depend on glee to take home a Nationals' trophy."
"What do you mean?"
"Sylvester kicked us off the team," you say. "We mostly just came because we didn't want Brittany to die… It's a long story. Just… let's win it all, okay?"
Rachel is about to say something when Tina and Mercedes enter, laughing loudly. You pretend not to notice the smile she gives you, and instead you bite back your own as you pack your things.