It's athletics training day, so Rachel had to get up earlier. She was already accustomed with the routine: waking up an hour earlier than normal, putting on her training uniform, changing clothes in her backpack, and go to school. Athletics was far from as enthralling as the music, but Rachel had to admit that her body began to ask for training after she got used to it. Not to mention that her abs started to show, which she liked a lot. Perhaps it was the endorphin produced and released by the body that helps in the sense of well-being. Upon arriving at the school, she entered the locker room just to leave her belongings.
Athletes from other teams and cheerleaders were also there sharing the space, but the interesting thing was that the members of a team didn't usually talk to the girls of other teams. Rachel was more sociable with the girls in athletics, especially Doris Mallick, who was the other girl in the pole vault and who used to be the starter in school competitions. The fact was that Doris liked Rachel because she was younger and knew that Rachel had no chance of overcoming her. Rachel, for her part, was more than happy to compete as number two at the school. The only competition Rachel made a point of winning was in the choir.
"It's freezing outside." Santana came into the locker room complaining when Rachel was about to leave.
"It's fall, Santana. It's not that cold yet." Rachel replied.
"Now you're a walking calendar, dwarf?"
Rachel sighed. She turned her back and left the locker room. Even before she could reach the field, she felt a hand gripping her arm. Santana pulled her into a more reserved space, looking first at the environment to make sure there was no one approaching.
"Something wrong?" Rachel was worried.
"It will depend on how you are going to face this favour."
"Depends on the kind of favour."
"It's an order... and at the same time it's a favour." Santana looked around again to make sure they were alone. "I'm going to need to drop out at lunch break and I won't be back until Sunday. These are orders that I must fulfil."
"Something serious, if I may ask?"
"Not that serious... the point is I need you to do me a great favour while I'm gone: I need you to take Quinn to my house and keep an eye on her. You can host her in my brother's room, no problem. My parents will be home and they don't know her personally, so I also need you to make the introductions."
"Quinn? Quinn Fabray?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure? Don't you mean Quinn Montgomery?
"Who's Quinn Montgomery?"
"Mocha's barista."
"Oh really? Is that hot girl named Quinn, too?"
"Santana!" Rachel blushed and the leader smiled.
"Rachel, the mission is Quinn Fabray, okay?"
"I'll know what's going on?" Rachel folded her arms. "At least as far as Quinn is concerned?"
"Whatever you want to ask is going to have to be directly to her. That's if Quinn wants to have some decent dialogue with you."
"Come on, Santana! Be reasonable."
"I'm reasonable."
"That task won't be easy. Quinn hates me!" Rachel sighed already waiting for the kicking festival she would receive. That was when she had a devilish idea and smiled. "I know this is an order, but you also said it's a favour. Well, for the favour part can I make a request?" So she made a square in the air with her fingers. Then, with one hand, she simulated something resembling a curved roof. Santana rolled her eyes.
"Done! But don't abuse it. "
Rachel smiled in the best of ways.
"OK! Tell Quinn Fabray, I'll wait for her after Glee."
Santana rolled her eyes once more and Rachel was definitely on the training ground. In the distance, she saw Santana approach Quinn Fabray and talk about something. Whatever it was, it seemed serious. Her curiosity cost her concentration to execute the techniques the coach taught. When Rachel watched the sport casually at the Olympics, she never imagined it was so complicated.
After the practice, as she walked through the hallways, Rachel felt that the looks on her were more accusing since the joke with Kurt about her supposed sexual life. She found the hypocrisy of her colleagues interesting. She came to be seen as a slut because she supposedly experimented with her boyfriend. It didn't matter if a good chunk of the girls in the school were sexually active and had few inhibitions. Kurt came to be seen as a weak and an idiot, because he supposedly agreed to share his girlfriend with Sam. It didn't matter if so many secretly cheated there. And Sam came to be seen as a pure and simple profiteer. But what about a guy like Puck? He was the ultimate manwhore. And Finn? Suddenly he was the man because he broke up with the slut rich Quinn Fabray. That school was stupidly sexist and false moralist.
Who was afraid of Quinn Fabray?
Rachel wasn't. Now she had to face the girl as a mission. Honestly, Rachel liked none of it.
Who could trust Quinn Fabray?
…
Quinn was impatient. Rachel hadn't been able to set a radio station she liked for a while, and the jolt of sound made her nervous. The anxiety to solve her private dramas was enormous, as was her need to feel secure. Then there was the captain of the Glee Club, the bossy girl who couldn't decide for a simple and ridiculous song. Quinn wanted to scream, to put out all the fury she felt inside her.
"Would you please choose a song? Any of them! I don't care."
She felt Rachel's eyes on her. Not every makeup could hide the swelling and purple around her eyes. Rachel wanted to ask about it, but the mixture of politeness and fear prevented her. Lucky for Quinn, who wasn't in the mood for explanations. She just wanted a bed and some rest after the scenes she faced the night before. Peace and silence were her greatest desires.
"Don't you have any MP3s? I'm sure your bad selection would still be better than the poverty of these radios." Rachel said.
"I don't see anything wrong with the radio stations!" Quinn wanted to scream. "I don't carry MP3 shit inside the car."
"I don't think you ever listened to the radio, so... turn the next right..." Rachel tuned into the new ballad of the moment. "Too bad I forgot my MP3s at home. I hardly go out without them." Quinn wasn't interested at all. At least she was relieved by the tuned radio.
For the rest of the way, Rachel only opened her mouth to indicate directions until she reached a residential street of modest homes in the working-class neighbourhood. That particular street was known to reside several immigrant families, as were the Lopez's. Most of them were in the second or third generation, but they still managed to preserve language and customs.
"It's the two-story blue house." Rachel pointed.
The Lopez house was very different from the Puckerman's one. It was more colourful, with the room full of ornaments and little things. There were also larger fences and a small garden, as well as a cherry tree in front of the house. In the Lopez house, for example, the green area was limited to a sparse lawn. For Quinn, however, it was like she was in another world, another country. She was a girl from the noble sector of the city, the daughter of a well-known politician who only studied in a public school because it was a practice for parliamentarians to enrol their children in these institutions to give the impression that the education system was of good quality. This wasn't true because students like Quinn, Karofsky and Brittany had private classes and were treated differently. These students, kids of politicians or people with influence, were on the honour roll and had a university degree seat: a privilege that ordinary students like Rachel would have to try twice as much, perhaps triple, to achieve.
"You better wait here for me here as I open the gate." Rachel got out of the car and ran through the drizzling rain.
Quinn was impressed by that girl knowing secrets of the house, for example: where was the extra key. Rachel jumped over the fence skilfully (she'd done it a few times), walked around the house, and took the copy of the key from an old pot of laundry soap in the backyard locker in which the Lopez set up the laundry once that those houses in the neighbourhood had no basement. She unlocked the kitchen door, took the bundle of keys. She wasn't sure which was the one that opened the lock of the gate that gave access to the yard. She tried four before finding the prize. Rachel took the chain, opened the gate, and allowed Quinn to drive into the laundry room, which also served as a garage. She locked up again before running back into the yard to get her own things. Her clothes and hair were well moistened at the moment. Quinn opened the trunk to carry her own luggage into the house.
"There are more clothes than you need to spend a weekend," Rachel commented, then regretted it. Quinn took a deep breath, looking like someone who was holding on desperately not to cry. Rachel held the keys in the right place and helped her colleague carry the suitcase upstairs.
"You should know that by now, but Santana is the youngest daughter of three." Rachel turned on the light before opening the dusty curtains of the cosy little room.
"I know almost nothing about her family. Santana was practically my bodyguard at school, but she never really revealed much about her life. All I know is that her parents don't have much money and that she lives in this neighbourhood. Well... obvious since we are here."
"Okay... this was Carlos's room, which is the oldest. He's married and lives in Adrian, if I'm not mistaken. He already has a son! But Santana's parents have preserved the room for when Carlos's family arrives for a visit."
"Who's the other brother?" Quinn sat on the bed and it didn't look too bad, despite the mattress being old.
"The middle one is Juliet. She's in college for the full scholarship program, which is very difficult to get a place through this resource... last year of Architecture, I guess." Rachel looked disdainful.
"Don't seem like you're a fan of her."
"If you think Santana is mean, near Juli, she's a novice apprentice."
"I can't imagine."
"Think about this: if you're staying in Carlos's old room with an extra ladder full of dust, when you could have a cleaner room, there's a good reason."
"I see..." Quinn noticed the room, the blue curtains, the dusty collection of model airplanes at the top of the shelf. In the small wardrobe that would not fit a third of her clothes. It was a typical boy's room. Her room couldn't even compare in size. But it was fine. She promised herself not to complain. No one can complain about cleaning the buoy when it's drowning, and Santana's gestures pretty much saved Quinn's life.
"Do you want a snack? I can prepare something to eat. I'm hungry myself."
"Okay." Quinn wasn't hungry. The snack was only a reason for Rachel to disappear and she could be alone to compose herself.
Rachel went to the small kitchen. She knows that house well enough to know where things were and to be free to catch them. She picked up the bread in the refrigerator, jellies (and Rachel secretly thanked Juan Lopez for the healthy addiction, since Anna rarely bought it), made pop lemonade and ate a banana while she was fixing the meal. Quinn arrived with her face still closed, a counterpoint to the light features of Rachel.
"I don't know what you like, but we have bread, jelly and cream cheese. I made pop lemonade... it was the most neutral juice I ever found in the freezer." Quinn shook her head and laughed in disbelief. "What's it?"
"Who would have thought that you, Rachel Berry, were Santana Lopez close friend? Sorry, but this is still hard to believe."
"There are many things you don't know." Rachel began to pour herself into silence.
Quinn rummaged in her pants pocket and placed a button on the counter in front of Rachel.
"Lost another sweater button?"
"No... this one is different." Rachel knew that button model with the scrape just fine. The colour was blue, but under the circumstances, that didn't surprise her. "Santana said you understood the meaning."
"And what do you know about it?" Rachel was cautious.
Quinn wasn't willing to go into an information game. She was mentally tired and didn't want to risk ruining the chance with the only person who held out her hands at the worst moment.
"I know it's an invitation. It wasn't clear, but I presume I must be in a sort of probation phase before Santana can tell me about some things. She assured me that I would never be helpless again... I must say it was more convincing than I could imagine."
"She is right."
"Are you close because of that?"
"You're right again." Rachel took a sip of the juice. "At least in part. Regardless of these buttons, Santana and the Lopez are like my family. More than the Puckerman's."
"Then why do you live with Puck's family?"
"Because it was the family the government sent me after I got under state custody when my parents were killed." Rachel avoided looking at Quinn at that moment. As much as she knew the girl had nothing to do with it, it didn't change the fact that Quinn's father was the author of the law that sentenced homosexual couples to death.
"Since when does this happen? You, Santana... the Lopez's?" Rachel silenced and concentrated on her own snack. "Can't you tell me anything else?" Quinn gained more silence.
"Why are you here?" Rachel asked after a few minutes of discomfort. "I mean; I know San well enough to know she wouldn't put you in this house without a fair reason. Does it have something to do with your black eye?"
"I'd say you're right... at least in part."
"There are rumours in school that you have an affair with an older man."
"Well... tell me your theory and I'll tell you it's far or near of the truth." Quinn folded her arms.
"My theory is that your father is not a loving guy. Or maybe he's inappropriately loving." Rachel didn't want to face her colleague for this insinuation.
"Your theory isn't wrong... just as rumours always have a basis of truth."
"Oh!" Rachel was angry with the revelation. "So your father... touches you?"
"You can say that... he especially touches me with his heavy hand against my face."
"Did he… he…"
"Raped me? That's a thing I don't want to talk about."
Russell almost raped Quinn once. In an occasion of extreme drunkenness, Russell screamed at his daughter, slapped her, then pinned her against the wall and rubbed himself against her body and grasping her breasts. All Quinn felt was panic and terror. She felt Russell's hard penis brush against her body, hear her father call her the worst names. Quinn begged him not to. She screamed that she was his daughter over and over again. That's when Russell stepped back and left her room. That night, Quinn ran into the bathroom, locked herself in there and cried till sleep in the tub. She started to sleep with her bedroom door locked since then. That happened two nights before Quinn slapped Rachel at the locker room and Santana interfered. Russell was a politician in crisis, who was losing his power of influence more and more every year. That was his biggest excuse to drink and change, and Quinn almost paid the worst price.
"He doesn't have the right." Rachel was horrified.
"Are you surprised? He is the man who signed your parents' death sentence."
"Theorizing is one thing... knowing part of the truth is completely different. I'm so sorry, Quinn. I'm sorry!" Quinn wiped away discreet tears that stubbornly sprouted and ruined the sparse makeup, despite her firm, impassive face. Rachel, for her part, didn't know how to act. She didn't know if she could hug her, or simply stay there. Prudence advised Rachel to keep her distance. "Your father is the reason to you come here with that big luggage?"
"I refused to do my father a favour. So I got this black eye and walked away. I slept in my car last night and today Santana offered me a roof."
"Oh!" Rachel was stunned. "Did she give you this button today?"
"No. She invited me a week ago."
"I'm confused… when did she…"
"Remember that day in the lockers room a month ago? When I… I hit you?" Rachel nodded. "Santana got into my car, threw the reality into my face and promised to help me."
"Throw reality in the face of others? That's her specialty... fortunately, helping is also part of the package."
"I'm grateful she did it. I was so hopeless that day… She promised that I wouldn't have to do favours to my father anymore but that had a price. She tested me a few times and I think I passed. A week ago, Santana showed me a document and this blue button and give a choice. I took it."
"A document?"
"Copies of some documents that make sure my father won't bother me." Quinn frowned. "By the way, do you have any idea how Santana got it?"
"Santana has a lot of business that doesn't concern me."
"Well... what I know is that it worked. My father stepped back and said that he would leave me alone. But not before he got me this black eye and a threat that if I open my mouth about the documents, I may consider myself a corpse with a right day to fall."
"Do you think he would be able to?"
"I won't pay to see. Santana gave me some solutions and I just pray to God that she's right."
Quinn and Rachel ate in the kitchen in silence. The biggest noise was outside. The neighbour was fighting with a child, probably her son who had done something wrong. Or maybe the kid didn't do anything at all and the woman would only be discounting her own frustrations. Quinn and Rachel washed and put away the dishes, and again they didn't know how to act between them. Rachel had an idea to improve the environment and called Quinn up the stairs. They entered Santana's room and the diva picked up a key that fitted behind a caricature.
"Apparently, you know where all the keys are." Quinn raised an eyebrow.
"This is the most desired key." Rachel smiled and went to a medium-sized chest that stood in the corner of the room beside the window. She opened it and her eyes lit up literally. "Santana has the best private collection of vinyl records I've ever seen. Only classics."
"It looks pretty good..." Quinn picked up The Supremes Sings Holland-Dozier-Holland, 1967 album. "I don't know any of these..." She commented softly. "Sounds like East thing."
"You're not wrong."
Quinn picked up the vinyl and went to the stereo. She didn't even believe Santana still had such a device in the room. She herself, with all the money, had not. Quinn was embarrassed to realize that she didn't know how the stereo worked. Rachel helped her.
"Which track?"
"Any of them."
She smiled as she listened to the guitar in the midst of the good squeak characteristic of that type of media. "Set me free, why don't cha babe/ get out my life, why don't cha babe/ cause you don't really Love me/ you Just keep me hangin'on/ you don't really need me/ but you keep me hangin'on/ why do you keep a coming around/ playing with my heart?/ why don't you get out of my life/ and let me make a new start?/ let me get over you/ the way you've gotten over me". Rachel smiled and offered her hand. She pulled Quinn up and they started dancing to the music. And several other Supremes, Jackson Five, Steve Wonder, The Four Tops songs. It was like an exorcism session. A release. Santana's room had sound insulation and this allowed the girls to listen to the music as loud as the volume could take. All the neighbour would hear would be a muffled sound, impossible to identify.
There, in the middle of the dance, it was as if something had clicked between them. Quinn allowed her to feel some joy in Rachel's company. It was just a spark of happiness, but Quinn had almost forgotten how much the feeling of allowing herself was so good. When she left her house, she felt the spark of hope. As she danced with Rachel, she felt the heat. Quinn felt a little peace and found it too good to be true to the point of fearing that it was all a dream.
Rachel, for her part, was in awe of her colleague. She had never seen a Quinn Fabray so vulnerable and so light. It was beautiful.
Covers and records began to spread over Santana's bed as the girls explored the collection, sang the songs (in Rachel's case) and danced. Exploring those treasures was the prize that Rachel asked Santana to escort Quinn. She'd only seen the collection once. Santana was very jealous of her vinyl records. The leader maintained with great care and hardly allowed people to look at a distance of at least two meters. Of course if they scratched or if the phonograph broke, Rachel could order her own coffin. This part became very clear during the recommendations before the location of the key was revealed.
"Rachel?" The girls, already tired and lying on the carpet, were startled by the thick voice of the tall man with the Latin features. He was a very handsome.
"Hi, Mr. Lopez." Rachel ran to lower the volume. Quinn put her hands back and lowered her head. "Sorry, we didn't hear you come... "
"Hum..." He walked into the room and began to see the records. "I don't know what you did or told Santana to let you explore her collection, but good Lord... now I can finally take a look at these records." The man smiled and turned to the blonde girl he already had sometimes seen photos of the local newspaper's social columns. "You must be Quinn Fabray." He reached out to greet her. "Santana said you'd spend a few days with us."
"Yes, sir!" Quinn greeted him. "That's... if you will, of course ..."
"Rachel, have you shown Carlos's room yet?"
"Yes, Mr. Lopez."
"That must be a terror of dust." He sat on the bed and picked up a Marvin Gaye record. "Jesus, I love this one! I like it so much that I would be caught happy just by holding it. Santana has a contact on the black exchange... she doesn't give me details, but that's where she gets those oddities."
"And are you ok with that?" Quinn was shocked.
"Not really. I worry and I don't encourage her. But it's better to know than to be taken by surprise. And it's just records..." Rachel nodded in agreement, even though Juan was deluding himself: he didn't know anything. He had no idea how enormous the buttons were. He didn't even know of the existence of this secret society. The man got up from the bed and composed himself. "When Maribel arrives, I'm sure she'll be happy to provide new sheets and clean blankets. It's just that San took us by surprise... and she still had this travel with her boyfriend. The prosecutor's son, right?" He asked for confirmation from Rachel, who nodded.
The prosecutor's son in question was Blaine, Santana's official beard and vice versa, since the day of Kurt's rescue.
"Rachel, are you going to sleep here too?"
"It's not in my plans, Mr. Lopez. My mission was to introduce Quinn to you and Maribel." Santana's mother hated be called mrs. Lopez.
"But do you have plans tonight?"
"Not exactly..."
"So stay. Let's order pizzas and play Monopoly. It wouldn't be the first time you'd borrow some San's pyjamas. "
"It would be nice." Rachel smiled and the man left the room. "Juan loves Monopoly and all kinds of board games." Rachel smiled uncomfortably. "You don't need to play if you don't want to..."
"I think it would be... interesting. Although I don't know how to play properly..."
"Come on?!"
"My father isn't the type to sit on the rug to play board games with his kids, Rachel." Quinn said with a lament in her voice. "I don't know if you noticed, but I don't have much friends either. Not real ones as you and Santana are, apparently."
"In this case, it would be healthy if you lived the experience despite your 18-year-old."
Maribel arrived. She was a tired and not so thrilled when she was introduced to Quinn, but she liked Rachel's company. She thought it was a rare good friendship that her daughter cultivated. The four of them ate pizza talking about routine matters. Juan hated the newscaster Maribel thought was very elegant. They showed an up-to-date picture of their grandson, Carlos' son, to the girls and told them about the little boy's exploits. Stories augmented by grandparents' charm. They asked questions about her daughter at school in the hope that Rachel or Quinn might hand over some malpractice. Rachel was more than trained not to get her tongue in her teeth and Quinn had nothing bad to say about Santana, other than the famous bitch attitude.
They played Monopoly, which Quinn liked. It was different to sit at the table with a friend and an adult where no one discuss without serious consequences. In that case, Juan's revenge for the fights was to make a tough negotiation that could lead the other to bankruptcy. Who would have thought a doctor in the public health system could be a tough negotiator? Maribel was the first to fail, followed by Rachel. They both left Quinn and Juan building empires and trying to bankrupt each other. They climbed onto the mezzanine and cleaned the bed for Quinn, then stood on the couch watching a movie. Maribel asked several questions about the new guest, as Santana had foreseen, and Rachel kept the script in saying that the girl was facing some problems, but that Santana could explain better later. Plus, she assured Maribel that Quinn posed no risk to the family. In those days of hardened government, Maribel's concern wasn't for nothing.
Early in the night, Rachel organized the albums in the trunk and was about to get ready to sleep in the leader's room when Quinn came in already bathed.
"Will you still be around tomorrow?"
"No, I won't. I'm leaving after breakfast. But don't worry. Maribel won't be mean to you, and Mr. Lopez apparently liked you. He's very respectful too, I can assure you. It's not the first time I spent a weekend here without Santana around. But if you want some advice, don't watch football with Mr. Lopez if he stay home tomorrow. Make an excuse and go do something else... stay with Maribel if you have to."
"He is a fanatic?"
"Yes, he is."
"Do you really spend a lot of time here, or am I wrong?"
"Yes and no. It's not that I spend a lot of time with the Lopez's, but they've known me for almost seven years."
"Does Puck know about your friendship with her?"
"No, he doesn't. It's not that Anna or he cared about where I am. As long as I don't bring problems into the house. Anna just wants to get the state allowance for giving me a roof. Puck only thinks about his own penis. Natalie is just a child."
"How come you and Santana just started talking to each other at school?"
"It's complicated to explain."
"Does it have to do with the buttons?"
"Yes and it's complicated."
"This is frustrating. Why can't you tell me anything consistent about the buttons?"
"Because as long as you don't have your own buttons, Quinn Fabray, you're not really one of us."