The small part of Quinn that's managed to remain a rational person despite everything that's happened in the last six or seven years knows she's overreacting. That Brittany's decision to start this club with Rachel, and Santana's decision to get involved with it and lie to her about it, aren't personal.

But the rest of her thinks it all just cuts a little too closely to the bone.

And sure, Quinn knows that it wouldn't be unrealistic to suspect that there are at least a dozen gay kids at McKinley, but up until now, who is and who isn't gay hasn't been a real issue among the student body. There are way too many other, less uncomfortable ways for them to wage their petty little class warfare on one another.

But this club is going to change all of that. People are going to start looking at each other with brand new suspicion, asking questions and taking sides, and Quinn's not ready for that. She's just not ready.

That night, she runs farther than she ever has before, until every intake of breath makes her feel like she's drawing shrapnel into her lungs, until the taste of blood is thick in her mouth, until the muscles in her legs are burning and the bones are practically throbbing under the strain. And still she climbs into bed wide awake and terrified.

A few hours later, at the end of that morning's Cheerios' practice, she lines up the girls and gives the speech she wrote herself in the wee small hours of the morning.

"It's come to my attention that certain students at this school intend to start some sort of homosexual pride club." She's saying it with as much disdain as she can, and hating herself more and more with each word. "This club is nothing but a distraction, and I expect that none of you will become involved with it. Therefore, from now on, Cheerios will be run under a strict Don't Ask/Don't Tell policy, and any member of this squad found to be in support of this gay group will be removed from the squad permanently."

There's no reaction from the squad other than a few eye rolls and a light layer of nervous laughter. It's all Quinn can do not to look Santana in the eye as she walks away.

But still, she isn't mollified. She wants answers. So she decides to talk to Brittany alone. For one thing, she knows Brittany doesn't really know how to lie. And on top of that, she's sort of banking on Brittany's sweet nature to keep her own temper in check.

It's a bad bet, though, because the second she has Brittany cornered, Quinn blows apart in a firestorm of rage, shouting at Brittany with clenched fists about what a bad idea this whole Unicorn Club is, and how all it's going to do is make everyone at this ridiculous school hate each other more than they already do.

"I mean, really, Brittany, how stupid can you be?"

The moment she hears herself say it, she knows she's made a grievous error. Brittany's bottom lip begins to quiver, and she runs off, crying.

For the rest of the day, Quinn can't stop shaking, and when the final bell rings, she's never been more grateful to be heading toward her car, toward home.

But then her shoulder connects violently with the metal of the row of lockers to her right, and she crumples to the floor in a pathetic heap. She tries pushing herself up, but a blinding pain cuts through her right shoulder, and she sinks back down again in agony. When she reopens her eyes, Santana is crouched in front of her, her furious face mere inches from her own.

"I don't know what you were thinking, Q," Santana says, calmly but angrily. "I mean, did you really think you could talk to Brittany like that, and try to get us kicked off Cheerios, and there wouldn't be any consequences?"

Quinn opens her mouth to respond, but the pain in her arm overwhelms her ability to speak. She takes a deep gulp of cold air into her lungs and closes her eyes again.

"And the best part is, you're a complete hypocrite!" Santana continues. "You've got everyone convinced that you're some perfect, untouchable ice queen. But you know what? It's time for a wake up call, Fabray, for you and for the rest of the morons at this pathetic school. So here's what's going to happen. The way I see it, you've got two pretty big secrets you've been holding onto since you got here, and it's time for at least one of them to come out, don't you think?"

Quinn's eyes, which had been shut fast against the dizzying nausea of her pain and panic, snap open at Santana's choice of phrase. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

"So, which girl do you want me to tell them about, Q? I'll let you pick," Santana says, standing over her now with a smug grin of satisfaction. "Lucy or Rachel?"

It's everything Quinn can do not to vomit on the spot. Between the pain radiating out from her shoulder, and the shock of hearing her twin secrets so casually called out in public, her heart feels like it has plummeted down into her churning stomach.

It's not a fair choice, though she supposes it's not designed to be one. She's going to die either way; Santana's just giving her a choice of poison.

Her vanity is tugging her desperately away from choosing the Lucy route. The thought of everyone seeing the thing she used to be, that rounded, shameful body she used to inhabit...

But then she thinks of Rachel.

There's less than a ghost of a chance of anything ever happening between them, but whatever wisp exists would turn to dust if Rachel found out the truth of how Quinn really feels about her like this. And when she thinks of it that way, the choice is almost laughably simple.

"Go ahead and show them Lucy," she rasps out through the lump in her throat. She means to sound defiant, but instead she just sounds resigned.

Santana's gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Quinn behind to assess the damage.