Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters. I do, however, own the wonderful Maria Arioso.
A/N: Hey all, sorry it took me a while to update. I've had lots of things going on. I've done many Jazz performances over the last month or so, so it was hard to find time to pen things down… Then a former member of the group passed away last week, so I couldn't write anything. He was such a sweet man and it was truly a crime that he had to be taken from us so early in his life.
Thanks to EriiTurd, HighwayMagickUnicorn, writing is love, faberrydragon, d80p, yuncloud, Avarenda, ch3lsk0, redashford, DAgron01, RUlov3r, Ienne4Puck, Directions, Lexi-Nicole21, Liz, shoestring potato, aquarius127, Doctor Brittana Banana Who, Bleach-Glee-Lover, thatissodawn, Music and Reading Lover, yoshi426, MsChloeMa, Princesakarlita411, KW Jordan, broadwaybound2016, Chloe, BleachedBlondeDork, AsGayAsQueerios, Bypasser, gleefulness, Lauren, fatedcircle26, smartblond317, kagekamay, G6-flying, Lucy Caboosy, Nightlancer600, Kell1310, Buffy-Obssessed, Keepergurl10, Athyna DaughterofPosiedon, karlymorrig, HuGyWuGy, auntie-tana-lopez, gleesi, 98forever, maxsgirl452, WittyNinja, xom, Naya-HeYa-Achell-Di, Carol aka-neko, and Alerted for their amazing support. Without all of you amazing people and your lovely comments, I would not be able to continue writing. Love you guys.
If you'd like to get some updates about me, link to my Tumblr is on my homepage. I'd love to hear your comments as well, so I'd appreciate a review :) Or maybe you'd just like to talk? Either way, I'd be glad to hear from you.
Chapter 11: Preparation
New Directions' lack of initiative shocked Rachel.
They had less than two weeks until Sectionals. Less than two weeks to prepare a set list, arrange choreography, and order a Cardiff bus to take to take the venue. Less than two weeks till whatever Judges the Ohio Show Choir Committee assigned to listen to the competition passed down judgment and the fate of Glee Club at McKinley was decided.
They had less than two weeks before competition and a set list was not decided.
They discussed the performance at least once a week when Mr. Schue passed out his 'assignment' ("whatever songs we use this week will be up for consideration to perform for Sectionals"—Rachel laughed internally each time he repeated that empty promise). But despite the discussion, little work went into actually putting songs to paper.
In fact, there seemed little point to Glee Club. Rehearsal was disgustingly formulaic, and not in the positive, instructive way that Rachel's Chamber Singer Instructor ran his classes.
Mr. Schue would write some sort of ridiculous, feel good phrase on the board and demanded that everyone prepare songs according to said theme. A good portion of the club would cheer whilst the other half would diss the idea (Rachel acquired a special fondness for Santana's rather cut and dry humor). Someone in the club would threaten to defect from New Directions because of Schue's lack of initiative while the rest of the club—with the exception of a very amused Rachel and Santana—would attempt to keep said member from leaving. By the end of the week, said person would miraculously learn their lesson, a group number would be performed, and everyone would kiss and make up.
Rinse and repeat.
It was an endless cycle. A boring cycle that made Rachel want to tear her hair out, as she repeatedly told an Maria during their now near daily Facetime sessions.
She loved Glee Club. She loved everyone in it—even Kurt and Mercedes, though they made her want to tear her hair out with their Diva-like tendencies (they were still bitter about the number of solos Mr. Schue forked over to an equally frustrated Rachel).
Rachel could lose herself in music and dance, forget the fact that she hadn't gotten anywhere with her Fathers' separation, forget about the messy and confusing Quinn Fabray situation, forget about the fact that she missed San Diego so much her heart throbbed.
New Directions needed to win. It needed to continue on for the rest of the year. Rachel couldn't find any other means of escaping the pain of her nightmares or the stinging cocktail of homesickness and confusion. She was so passionate about Glee that she hated to think of a day when she didn't spend two hours each day in the choir room.
She couldn't bear to see New Directions end.
"Is it always like this?" Rachel inquired, lifting an eyebrow as a previously furious Finn (who for the third time that month thought of quitting Glee Club to maintain his 'popularity') made up with a weepy Mr. Schue.
"Like what?" Tina hummed, dark eyes darting over to meet her exasperated friend's brown orbs.
"Does this… touchy… feely… make up, break up stuff always happen?" Rachel frowned as Mr. Schue started on a rant about 'fitting in' and 'maintaining status yet being able to enjoy oneself' in school.
"Mmmm," a black, polished nail tapped against nude colored lips. "…I've never really thought of it before. But now that you mention it, I think it does."
"Crap," Rachel breathed, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. "How could you have tolerated this for so long? …How do you ever get anything done?"
"I'm… not really sure," Tina responded, shrugging her shoulders. "But last year, it was about the same. We chose the set list about a week before Sectionals and Regionals. We won Sectionals with a makeshift set list and Regionals… well, you know what happened there."
Rachel frowned. New Directions had lost. And though it pained Rachel to think it, New Directions had lost for good reason.
The Journey Medley's shoddy choreography didn't hold a candle to the dazzling precision with which Vocal Adrenaline—last year's winner—had performed their rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. Simple hand gestures and organized lines up and down risers wouldn't suffice while Vocal Adrenaline pulled aerial stunts, flips, and all the like. Aural Intensity, second place, had synchronized tango included in their set, for crying out loud.
Then there had been song choice errors and vocal issues. Quinn's soft, smoky voice wasn't suited for a song that required a powerful female lead like 'Faithfully.' Finn's awkward tenor overpowered the fragility of her voice as he alternated between sharp and flat, making Rachel cringe. 'Lovin', Touchin' Squeezin'/Anyway You Want It' had been marginally good, though the choreography needed some 'oomph.' 'Don't Stop Believin'' had been the best (Santana and Noah's pairing brought out the best in the group), though the performance had not been as memorable as the two other groups'.
If they wanted a ghost of a chance at winning, rehearsal couldn't be put off any longer. If the Hipsters, Aural Intensity, or The Dalton Academy Warblers were a fraction as good as Vocal Adrenaline, New Directions needed to use all the time available to improve its chances.
Rachel's eyes flickered up toward Mr. Schue as he dismissed his protégé to the risers.
Something had to be done.
"Alright guys," he picked up a black Expo marker, turning toward the whiteboard placed at the front of the room. "Let's talk about this week's theme. 'Boys vs.-."
Rachel lifted her hand into the air. "Mr. Schue?"
The teacher's hand froze in its sloppy scrawl. He capped the marker and pivoted on his heel, facing his student. "Yes, Rachel?"
"There's two weeks till Sectionals and we don't have a set list yet. Don't you think…" Rachel straightened. "Don't you think we should start practicing?"
"We will, Rachel," Schue nodded. "But we need to gather some songs, first. That's what these lessons are for-."
"We've had three lessons and twelve songs every lesson," Rachel interjected. "We have enough songs to decide from. We need to start practicing or else we're going to lose."
Schue's mouth firmed into a stern line. "Rachel-."
"Is right."
Rachel's shoulders stiffened. Reddish brown eyes darted over to the source of the objection.
Quinn, hazel orbs a dark, burnished gold, sat rigidly in her chair, muscles coiled as she glared challengingly at Schue.
"What?" the Glee coach's head shook in disbelief.
Quinn sat up in her chair, squaring her shoulders. "Rachel's right, Mr. Schue. We've had several weeks of practice. If we don't win this year, Glee Club's over. We don't have any redos like last year. I guarantee that Coach Sylvester isn't going to be as generous as she was last year."
"She sure as hell isn't going to be," Santana laughed, slouching against her chair. "She regrets having to share the budget with us. Other day she was goin' on about how couldn't get enough fuel for her hovercraft because of 'the mouth breathers.' She ain'ts gonna be nice this year."
"We have one chance. One chance or this," Quinn motioned around the room, "is gone for good."
She lowered her voice. "And I think I speak for all of us when I say… we don't want this to end."
Each person in the room nodded in agreement.
"Glee's the only thing worth looking forward to," Mercedes looked about the room. "I mean, face it. If we didn't have Glee in common, would any of us talk to each other?"
"I wouldn't," Noah admitted shamelessly. He threw up his hands as the. "What? I used to get so many sexts before I joined this club. Now I'm just a hot, bad ass Jew with an empty inbox. It's not cool to sit through Schindler's List without my sexy texts to keep the tears out."
"In your dreams, Puckerman," Santana smirked. "When I was yo' girl, the only thing I saw on that cell phone were the sexts I sent you and the texts froms yo' Mama."
"That's a l-."
"That lovely subject aside," Rachel interrupted, clearing her throat. "Don't we all want New Directions to last?"
She looked about the room. "We're all from different ends of the social spectrum… we're all different, and maybe we don't get along that well. But aren't we family?"
Tina nodded approvingly as her friend continued on. "We may not all be friends, but we're united behind Glee because we all love to perform. That's something we all have in common… Everyone may not understand us, but we understand each other because we live to perform. We love connecting. Being part of something."
Rachel looked down upon her folded hands. "If we don't start now, we won't have a chance… We'll just drift through the school alone. This is our chance to do something wonderful during our High School career."
Brown eyes flickered upward. "Being part of something special makes you special. Do you want to be something special?"
A chorus of agreement echoed throughout the choir room.
Mr. Schue sighed, chuckling and shaking his head. "Alright, let's pull together and win this."
"That's a lovely train of thought, Mr. Schue," Mercedes interjected. "But we won't be able to make a dent on anyone if we don't have any songs to perform. What can we do?"
"Make up a set list, Wheezy," Santana threw over her shoulder, before turning back to face the front, arm raised. "And I suggest we go with someone everyone loves. My girl Adele."
"Kiss?" Finn suggested lamely.
"Lady Gaga, Celine Dion, or Patti Lupone," Kurt said excitedly.
Noah shrugged when all eyes turned on him. "Don't look at me. I'm just here to look badass and give a good rep. to all hot Jews everywhere."
"I've got an idea."
Eleven sets of eyes turned to lock with clear brown.
"Great," Santana rolled her eyes. "The midget has an idea."
"Santana," Quinn intoned warningly, eyes flashing.
"She didn't mean it in a negative way, Q," Brittany grabbed Quinn's arm, smiling obliviously at her sour companion. "She thinks it's totally awesome that Rachel's getting involved." The corners of her lips quirked up a bit more as she faced an amused Rachel. "We're going to kick ass because of Rach's awesome dwarf powers."
Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion. "Uhm… thanks, Britt…?"
"You're welcome!" Brittany chirruped in response.
The guitarist stood up, turning to face the rest of New Directions. "Is it alright if I share my suggestion?"
"It's not going to be some choral atrocity, is it?" Kurt inquired, lifting a finely manicured brow.
"Kurt, in the short time that you've 'known' me," Rachel crossed her arms. "Has anything I've ever performed been remotely choral?"
"Well-."
"You can't count our performance of Seasons of Love," Rachel crossed her arms. "That was a performance you fully supported."
Kurt sputtered, jaw working as he searched his mind for some sort of offense. Unable to find one, he threw a pout on, slumping in his chair.
Rachel smirked. About time he started respecting her ideas as well as her performance. While the 'Don't Rain on My Parade' routine had been enough to shut Kurt and Mercedes up about her solos, it didn't seem to be enough to shut up their opinions regarding Rachel's song choices.
Quinn seemed to share similar amusement, a single blonde brow quirking as a wry grin threatened the crease of her lips.
"Alright," Rachel flipped the cover of her messenger bag open, pulling out a thick stack of sheet music. "While these songs may not appeal to the entire group, I think we can present a strong showing with a set list like this one."
"Spring Awakening," she began, pressing sheets into people's hands, "is a new age musical. It's got rock, romance, and a little bit of a provocative edge to it."
"I wrote a medley. Solos are already written out for certain people, but if you guys'd like to audition for solos, we can do that." Rachel strode to the front of the room. She motioned to the white board. "Mr. Schue, could I…?"
"Yes, of course!" he replied enthusiastically, flipping through the score sheet.
Taking up a red Expo marker, she began to write upon the board. "The first song's 'Mama Who Bore Me.' It's a bit of a slow song, but it'll pick up partway and all the girls will join in. It'll segue into 'My Junk,' which I hoped the lovely Tina Cohen Chang would take up as a solo."
Tina smiled in response, nodding as Rachel continued. "After 'My Junk' we'll go into 'The Bitch of Living' featuring Noah Puckerman as the lead male and all the other men as minor characters, then we'll all go into 'Totally Fucked.'"
Rachel capped the marker, throwing it down before pivoting on her heel, hands on her hips. "The set meets all the basic requirements for Sectionals and we can do some pretty solid visuals choreographed by the wonderful Ms. Brittany S. Pierce… if she'll accept…?"
Brittany clapped happily, jumping to her feet and grabbing Rachel in a hug. "Yes! Yes!"
Rachel chuckled, reciprocating. "Thank you, Brittany."
The guitarist turned her head, looking about the room at her peers. "…Does anyone have any objections…?"
"Yeah, I do," Mercedes quipped, drawing all eyes to her stubborn countenance. "What are the rest of us supposed to do, if we don't have a solo? Just stand in the back and look pretty?"
Rachel frowned. "This set requires hard work on both sides, Mercedes. You won't have time to look pretty, even if you are playing second fiddle. There's not a person left on stage who'll be stand still, if we do our jobs right."
"I still don't like it," she scowled. "I am Beyoncé, not some backup singer."
Rachel sighed. She knew it would be difficult for Mercedes to accept the sololess slot she'd given her. She'd known it the moment she'd come up with the idea to use Spring Awakening songs.
Mercedes' voice was powerful. It could soar above the blaring brass of the R&B tunes Mr. Schue occasionally allowed them to perform. The richness of it could send some healthy shivers down an audience's spine if used at the right moment.
But it wasn't right for Spring Awakening, at least, not the set that Rachel had in mind.
And Rachel knew the score of solos in the room. During last year's sets, Tina, Artie, and the other members of New Directions went unappreciated by Mr. Schue. Quinn and Finn had been the glue ('very, very cheap, glue,' Rachel mused as she observed Finn stumble up the risers in the Journey set for the fifth time, one night) that tied the club together.
Mercedes had gotten a bit of recognition in Somebody to Love and a little in some portions of the lists. But the others like Puck, Artie, and Tina had gone without recognition.
Tina needed a solo to display that smile inducing voice of hers. Puck had to charm the audience with the smoky, rocker's edge so perfect for Moritz.
Rachel tried to give Artie a part in the set, since he helped her write out the sheets. But the boy simply smiled, pointing down at the music with a funny little smile.
"This is my contribution," he'd said, grin widening. "And it's a hell of a contribution. We're definitely going to stick it to the rival show choirs… Thanks for letting me be part of it."
All players were on the field in this set list, even as a background singer.
The set list was a work of the real voice of Glee Club. The neglected and the lonely, banning together to create something beautiful and unique.
It was perfect.
She wouldn't let Mercedes or anyone else take that work away from them.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the blazing, steely edge of Quinn's voice rose in defense.
"Beyoncé had to start somewhere, Mercedes," hazel orbs smoldered an intense gold. "Don't start this right now. You and I both know this is the only chance we have."
Mercedes shut her jaw, clenching it and glaring daggers into Rachel's calm eyes. For several moments, the two women maintained the intense connection, one set of dark orbs bearing resentment while the other remained a still, calm chocolate.
Rachel would not budge. She would defend the set list. She'd mock up as many demos as it took to convince Mercedes that they were on to something great.
Small hands balled into fists. Her Fathers, despite how hypocritical they'd been the last several years, always taught her to stand up for what was right.
It was one of the few lessons they still held sacred.
During Rachel's elementary school years, the impressionable kids were just as venomous as their judgmental parents. Rachel came home the first few weeks of kindergarten with sand in her hair, scrapes on her legs, sniffling over her classmates' cruel words.
Leroy and Hiram would not stand to see their only daughter exposed to hate at such a young age. They phoned the school and threatened them with the ACLU if the children would not show Rachel the same respect as any other child.
The end result had been a fairly isolated, albeit happy school environment for their now wary young daughter.
In San Diego, when Proposition 8's supporters showed up on the doorstep of her father's practice, he'd shoved them off the premises, spouting curses that might've made Maria red around the cheeks.
"You don't take shit from anyone, Rachel," he told her after he slammed the door, straightening his glasses across his nose, face reddened in anger. "'Don't judge a man till you've walked two moons in his moccasins.'"
And she didn't take it from anyone. In Lima, she took the punishment silently and turned a cheek toward those who struck her. She didn't believe in making others suffer as she had. She could not cause pain.
But after several years of bearing the blows, San Diego changed her. If someone struck her, she struck back with equal force. No one learned that touching her was prohibited. Not unless she showed them.
Mercedes' shoulders slumped and defiance left her features. She shook her head, slouching into her chair, throwing up her hands. "I guess I don't have any choice but to listen, do I?"
Again, her gaze turned upon Rachel. "I'll cooperate with you. But you better not just be jokin' about how good this set list is. If I'm going to be in the background, I better look good."
Rachel lifted an eyebrow. "If I didn't think everyone'd look good, do you honestly think I'd be pitching the idea, Mercedes?"
"Well…"
"No, I wouldn't," Rachel snapped, before pushing the last of the sheet music into Mercedes' hand. "You need to trust me. We're going to dominate. We just need more practice."
Rachel anticipated the difficulties that New Directions would undoubtedly face during their rehearsal of the set list. A majority of the people in the club weren't as gifted with choreography as Brittany and Mike, nor did everyone know how to hit a note as perfectly as Rachel did. But she knew that all the Glee Club needed was a bit of practice.
She'd seen potential in every person through that lone Journey Medley performance. It brought out the strengths and weaknesses of everyone in the group. Rachel would not have bothered introducing the Spring Awakening performance if she hadn't had faith in her teammates.
She had faith that a few practices would be enough to set them on the pathway to success. Be enough to bring out the best in everyone.
It turned out she'd been rather gullible.
After only thirty minutes of rehearsal, a majority of the Glee Club lay strewn across the floor, winded and exhausted. The only people who stood unaffected by the complex choreography were Rachel, the Cheerios, Mike, and Artie (for obvious reasons).
Finn turned into a battering ram during 'The Bitch of Living.' During the jump from his 'desk' to his knees, he fell forward, sending Puck's face smashing into the ground. In 'Totally Fucked' he, somehow, managed to destroy the diagonals by tripping over his feet and slamming into Quinn, thereby downing a majority of the team.
Mercedes wasn't faring well at all. She stood winded after 'My Junk' and clumsily stumbled through 'Totally Fucked.' As a result, her voice lost power, and the support of the song crumbled like a stale cookie. The delicate chord structure became a cacophony of unsightly notes and the overall effect of the set was lost.
Kurt fared no better. He complained loudly about the amount of oil his skin absorbed during practice and even threatened to boycott the whole set if he didn't have a chance to use some oil absorbent paper on his skin.
The group began to form smaller factions—those who supported the set list, and those against. The Cheerios, Rachel, Tina, Mike, and Artie supported the endeavor wholeheartedly. They had put in a majority of the work to make the choreography and music a reality.
To the others—Finn, Noah, Kurt, and Mercedes—the entire project was bogus. They practiced, they sang, and they pretended to trust Rachel's judgment. But they did not put their heart into it and respect what their team members poured their hearts into.
To make things absolutely worse, Matt, their twelfth member, moved away two days after the start of rehearsals. He was apologetic and claimed that he begged his parents to wait a week or so longer.
But Rachel could see the relief in his eyes as he gave his final farewell.
The whole thing was a disaster. She told Maria so each day in their now daily Facetime conversations.
Her friend was sympathetic to the situation. Told Rachel to make them "fucking listen to you, no matter what the cost, smurf."
But the guitarist couldn't make them want to perform. She couldn't force them to work together if they didn't have the desire to.
"Why even try?" Rachel murmured to herself three days after her initial suggestion, legs dangling over the stage in the auditorium, sweat glistening on her forehead as she stared out into the darkness.
Rehearsal had, again, been unsuccessful. Mercedes, as usual, put up a fight.
"We haven't gotten anywhere with this set list, Mr. Schue," she'd said, pulling herself up from the ground after a particularly grueling wipe out. "At this rate, we're not going to be ready for Sectionals. Shouldn't we reach for something a little more realistic?"
Rachel scoffed. Something more realistic? Something that involved pacing up and down the bleachers with Mercedes undoubtedly the center of attention? Performing a set list that hadn't been compiled through the joint efforts of a majority of the Glee Club?
No. She wouldn't allow it.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
A familiar chill crept up the column of Rachel's back. A pale arm shifted into view, soft, emerald tinted eyes sparkling mischievously in the stage's bright lights.
Rachel turned slightly, the corners of her lips quirking upward as Quinn Fabray settled herself an arm's length away.
'Just what I need,' Rachel mused, 'more confusion and stress.'
Quinn remained an enigma to Rachel.
The 'good luck' kisses on her cheek left Rachel a bit wary.
According to a majority of reports from the Glee Club, as far as Rachel knew, Quinn was not the sort of girl who sat around exchanging gossip and initiating physical contact with her girl friends.
Rachel, herself, had never been much of a physical person. She hated hugging, air kisses, and/or literal kisses to the cheek. Sure, while she'd dated, she exchanged kisses with her boyfriends (she enjoyed them), but the concept of friend contact—without giving something to that person in return—was foreign to Rachel.
She and Maria had never hugged each other much. They preferred a sort of emotional closeness rather than exchanging hugs. The closest they had ever gotten to any sort of physical contact had been Maria's 'experimental' kiss (the Irish girl had gotten drunk at a party and voiced her desire to find out 'what girls' lips were like' before planting a rather violent kiss on Rachel's lips) and the occasional embrace after one of Rachel's nightmares.
Rachel could tolerate it. But she never expected it from Quinn Fabray, supposed Ice Queen of McKinley High.
Then again, there were many things that others told her to expect of Quinn. So far, all those things proved to be wrong.
She had to accept that rules didn't apply.
At least, not in their odd friendship.
"Just feeling a little frustrated," Rachel answered slowly.
"Any reason why?" Quinn inquired innocently.
Rachel smirked. "Well, it might have to do with… I don't know… a girl in my Glee Club. Blonde hair? She's been doing so terribly in rehearsal, and it's just been a pain to watch…"
A blonde brow rose in response. "Painful?"
"Yes," Rachel answered, mock seriousness wrought about her features. "She stumbles and struggles through the whole thing. And ugh, don't forget that tremulous alto of hers… it ruins the balance of the song."
"Rachel Berry!" Quinn exclaimed, crossing her arms. "How dare you imply that Brittany's doing poorly in Glee!"
Rachel's smirk widened. "No, no! Brittany's doing perfectly well. I was thinking someone with darker eyes… you know, sort of hazel?"
Said eyes narrowed. "Berry…"
The singer chuckled. "How dare I imply that you're doing poorly in Glee?"
Quinn scowled. "At least I'm not making people fall over like a stack of dominoes left and right."
"Throwing daggers at Finn?" Rachel put a hand to her heart. "Why, I never! Good Catholic girls are not supposed to verbally assault the innocent."
"Good Catholic girls don't get pregnant either," Quinn countered. Hazel eyes darted to amused browns. "But seriously… are you alright, Rach?"
Rachel's smile faded from her lips as she looked up at the dark ceiling. "I'm… I'm frustrated."
"With?" Quinn prodded.
"With…" Rachel sighed. "With the way everything's turning out. I thought we'd be able to do this. I know we can do this. But it's not working out."
"The set list?"
"The set list, the missing member," the guitarist threw her hands up in resignation. "Nothing's going our way."
Quinn merely smiled. "Everything will be alright, Rachel. We've been through worse. Everything usually works out in the end around here."
Rachel threw a curious glance over to Quinn. "You're oddly calm…"
"I have experience," Rachel's companion said wryly before a slight crease to the corner of red lips overtook her features. "And… I might have already solved one of our problems."
Rachel turned to face Quinn, surprise etched across her face. "What?"
"You know the new boy?" Quinn questioned. "Tall, blonde? New Quarterback?"
"Sam Evans?" Rachel said, brow furrowing. She'd seen him in English Lang the other day, writing in some strange, weird language and talking Avatar with several science geeks. "Yeah."
"Turns out… he can sing," Quinn leaned back on the palms of her hands. "I heard him inside the boys' bathroom on my way to Chemistry."
"Anddd…?"
"And," Quinn turned her head. "I might have convinced him to join Glee Club."
"Oh," Rachel blinked before nodding. "That's… that's great." She paused. "…What's the catch?"
No boy in his right mind would join Glee unless there was something in it for him. At her old school, the only reason that there were any males in Chamber Singers was due to the group's reputation. Even then, a majority of the boys dated the choir girls who dragged their boyfriends into the program.
Quinn managed to get a boy to join. And it was the new Quarterback. There had to be a catch.
The cheerleader's reddened cheeks told a great deal. "I-I…"
"Date?" Rachel guessed. "Kiss?" She smirked saucily. "Something else?"
"None of those!" Alabaster skin turned a darker crimson. "…But you can say that I did flirt a little bit."
"Miss Fabray," Rachel gasped mockingly. "Using your good looks to meet your needs? How could you exploit that poor boy?"
"It's not my fault boys think with their hormones instead of their heads," Quinn murmured, crossing her arms. Greenish eyes dulled. "…Good looks don't bring you everything, Rachel."
There came a change in the light atmosphere. The air seemed to fill with tension as the Cheerleader's shoulders slumped and lids closed over hazel eyes.
"You okay?" Rachel asked softly.
Quinn nodded. "I… I am. It's just…"
The words were lost on her tongue. The two of them lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, fighting the words struggling to make their way up their throats.
Brown eyes glanced over to observe vulnerable features. Rachel swallowed heavily, gathering her thoughts before parting her lips to speak.
A small, dainty hand came to rest on Quinn's shoulder as the singer offered her friend a smile. "You're a pretty girl, Quinn …Probably one of the prettiest girls I've ever known."
The corners of Rachel's upturned lips softened. "…But… I hope you know you're a lot more than that."
Quinn's breathing hitched as long, gold lashes parted to reveal nostalgia inducing jade once more.
Rachel swallowed dryly as those intense orbs studied her face intently, sending a shock of trembling down her spine.
She could feel Quinn's breath against her cheek as the girl neared her, quakes intensifying with each passing moment. A pale hand came to rest on Rachel's arm, drawing idle shapes on a tanned forearm.
The Cheerleader inhaled shudderingly, licking dry lips as her voice rang out hoarsely throughout the auditorium. "Rachel… I…"
"Rachel, Quinn!"
The warmth on Rachel's arm faded into nonexistence. Quinn snapped away from a bewildered singer, straightening her hair with trembling hands as she pulled herself up and faced a confused looking Finn.
"What is it, Finn?" Quinn's voice took on a razor-sharp edge as she turned, scowling at the lanky boy near the stage exit whilst placing her hands on her hips.
Finn cowered beneath the girl's cold voice. "U-um… M-Mr. S-Schue wants to have a t-talk in th-the choir r-room."
"You couldn't have just-."
"Thank you, Finn," Rachel's voice cut smoothly through the dialogue. The guitarist had, once more, hidden her emotions behind that unrecognizable smile she'd practiced for so many a year. She threw her steady gaze toward Quinn. "Let's get back, yeah?"
A brief flash of surprise (and… hurt?) crossed Quinn's features before they melded back into the annoyed, cold mask from before. She gave Rachel a curt nod before pivoting on her heel and storming her way past Finn, throwing the poor boy a glare for good measure.
Rachel threw the boy another show smile. "I'll be there in a moment, go ahead and go on without me."
As soon as she was sure Finn was out of sight, Rachel's smile dropped and quaking hands went to her sweat brow.
"Oh fuck," she murmured, eyes wide.
What was that?
She did not need this. Not now.
"Oh fuck!" she groaned, leaning against a nearby wall.
Maybe Maria had a point after all.
Maybe Quinn Fabray did want in her pants.
Rachel felt numb, staring blankly into space while Mr. Schue ranted on about some topic or another in front of the Glee Club, writing furiously on the board complete with animated hand gestures.
She couldn't hear Mercedes throwing verbal daggers at her. Couldn't hear Santana's sarcastic comments regarding Finn's puffy pastry nipples (or some other form of Finn abuse).
Rachel could only feel the dryness of her throat, the rather frantic pumping of her heart, and the strange buzz in her ears.
She couldn't get the auditorium out of her mind. The closeness, the vulnerability. Everything.
It was a little more than Rachel could stomach at the moment.
Rachel came to Lima to put the pieces of her broken family's separation together then get the hell out of Ohio and back to the sunny, balmy weather of California. Get in, get out, go back to living her life finally close the unhappy chapter of her life, wrap it in a box, and file it away for the rest of her life.
But things were becoming complicated.
Quinn Fabray was quickly proving to be an unknown variable in Rachel's flawless equation, and it proved more maddening than possible.
The kisses on the cheek… the car… the coffee trip… the moment in the auditorium.
All of them factored up to produce an answer Rachel was not quite ready to accept.
She'd always been brilliant at denying the obvious. Rachel had gone several years of her life denying the fact that Jacob Ben Israel from her second grade class had an unhealthy obsession with her because Rachel only wanted to see the best in people.
In third grade, she'd finally admitted that one when she caught him spying on her from the jungle gym through the bulky rims of his glasses.
But this answer? Oh no, Rachel would not admit that Quinn most likely felt… something beyond friendship for her. She couldn't handle this.
But everything added up.
It prompted a rather rude awakening. Made her more aware of her surroundings.
Namely the fact that Rachel could now feel Quinn's less than subtle stare locked on her from the back of the risers.
It made things rather… uncomfortable.
"…Don't you think, Rachel?"
Brown eyes snapped up from the ground. "Uhm… what?"
Mr. Schue frowned. "I asked if you thought it'd be alright to eliminate the chair jump in The Bitch of Living."
Rachel shook her head, swallowing dryly before parting her lips to reply.
"I don't think you can do that, Boss." A smooth, melodious voice cut through Rachel's reply.
Rachel froze, surprise freezing each and every one of her synapses.
Only one person sounded like that…
"Get rid of the chair jump and you destroy the continuity of the rest of the set," boots clattered against the slushy stained file of the room. "I say you leave everything as is and make these morons step up to the plate."
Bright blue eyes twinkled mischievously as they met a pair of horrified chocolate brown eyes. A heavily ringed hand came to rest on a cocked hip as the stranger quirked the corner of a full, pierced lip.
"Who the hellz are you?" Santana questioned bluntly from her spot at the back of the choir room, dark eyes narrowing.
"Me?" A familiar, shit-eating smirk took residence on that pierced lip.
Maria Arioso grinned as she stepped further into the room, chuckling at the puzzled Glee Clubbers.
"Why, I'm Maria fucking Arioso," she provided, reveling in the shocked features of each person in the room. "You'd better remember it, because for the next two weeks...?"
An evil glint took residence in Maria's blue eyes. "For the next two weeks, I'm going to be your worst goddamned nightmare."
To J-
Who always wore a kind smile on his face and could never say an unkind thing to
anyone. You made each person feel so loved and special. Thank you for the
the kindness you showed me and giving me a love of music that I might never have
had without having met you.
This chapter is for you.
Rest in peace.