II
Quinn gets home at exactly six o'clock.
She's fully aware she's pushing it a little too far, but she's actually mad at both her parents at the moment. She fought with her father before he left on his business trip, and she's still raging about it.
The entire family knows what the fight was about - Quinn isn't shy of raising her voice to get her point across, which is something she's inherited from her father - and Quinn just wishes he would understand.
She doesn't want to go to some predetermined college and study what he's decided for her, just because he's going to be the one paying for it. She should be allowed to choose what she wants to do with the rest of her life.
This is the modern era, and he needs to realise she has her own wants and desires, and they go beyond what he's had planned since before she was born.
He expects something spectacular of his firstborn, and she's been fighting him the entire way.
Well, not the entire way.
Quinn works hard at her Academics, even if she's not as naturally intelligent as Sarah. She studies hard, and she makes good grades. Good enough to get into all the good colleges, and that's really all her father cares about, right?
But Quinn wants to act, and write, and maybe sing. She wants to spend her days reading novels and talking to playwrights and discussing the intricacies of Byron.
Is that so much to ask?
Things would be different if she were a boy. She would probably be more open to her father's wishes, and he would probably be more accepting, but she's a girl, and things are different for girls.
It's not as if she expects anything different in this society, but she just doesn't think it's fair for him to hold her college funding over her head just to get a lawyer out of her.
A lawyer out of her, and a doctor or engineer out of Sarah.
Those are his plans, and it helps that Sarah is inclined towards either of those things. Quinn thinks she could be a lawyer - it's at least centred around the Humanities - but she doesn't want to be, and it's the single thing she and her father have been clashing over.
Let's not even get started on where Quinn's going to go to college.
So, Quinn steps into the house with only minutes to spare, knowing she's spent the day with two of the people she can really be... sort of herself around.
Santana and Brittany have been her best friends since they were in Grade School, growing together through the years. They know each other's secrets, and Quinn has vented about her father countless times.
Santana is selling her dreams of New York, where she and Brittany are both headed after graduation. Somehow, Quinn will have to convince her father to accept that, but she's not holding her breath.
She'd sooner suffocate to death than change the mind of that stubborn man.
But, she loves him, and she knows he loves her. He just wants what's best for her, and she can't help wishing what he thinks is best for her is actually what she wants.
"Quinn, is that you?" Judy's voice calls out when Quinn closes the front door with an audible click.
Quinn sets her bag on the floor. "Hi, Mom," she says, following the voice through to the kitchen to find her mother busy preparing dinner.
"How was your day?" Judy asks over her shoulder.
"Fine," Quinn answers evasively. "Yours?"
"No complaints."
"Is Dad home?"
Judy turns her body to face Quinn fully. "He is," she says. "He's currently catching a nap, actually. His trip was exhausting, so I really don't need you to - "
"Right," Quinn says. "Don't pick a fight with him. Got it."
"Quinn."
"Do you need help with anything?"
Judy sighs. At what point does she just accept she's never going to win when it comes to Quinn Fabray? Because, really, for all intents and purposes, Quinn is the perfect daughter.
She's always been.
Ever since she was born, really. She wasn't unnecessarily fussy and, as she got older, she was quiet, even shy. She wasn't messy and she wasn't constantly seeking Judy's attention, which proved to be a good thing for when Sarah arrived, because that's when Judy realised just how spoiled she was with Quinn.
Quinn was capable of occupying herself, with her own toys and books, and she didn't feel the need for constant accolades and there was no 'Look, Mommy' and 'Mommy, are you looking?' No. If Quinn had something to show, she would be patient about it.
She did everything asked of her, sometimes even unprompted. The problem, Judy realised far too late, was maybe Quinn was too independent from too young an age. She liked to do things herself, yes, but she also liked to do them at her own time, which was where they started to clash.
Quinn would brush her teeth and have her bath time, but it was a fight to get her to do it when Judy told her to. Russell would just laugh, telling her to let the child be, but now he's on the receiving end of what Quinn vehemently doesn't want to do, and who's laughing now?
Certainly not Judy.
Quinn has excelled in every way. Judy put her in ballet and gymnastics, which she took to with ease. Judy sent her for piano lessons, which she seemed to enjoy. Judy encouraged her love for swimming, and Quinn performed marvellously. Judy suggested cheerleading, and Quinn grabbed at it with both hands.
All while maintaining near perfect grades and not getting into any severe trouble.
Well, there was the incident with the ATV, but they don't speak of that... mainly because it was certainly Sarah's fault, even if Quinn suffered the consequences.
As the older one.
Judy thinks she and Russell took it for granted that Quinn would continue to bend to their wishes and, when she inevitably pushed back, neither of them was prepared. Judy accepts they're definitely going at it the wrong way. The more Russell pushes for Law, the more Quinn will fight it.
The problem is, though, that Quinn's far too smart for reverse psychology to work on her, so they're going to have to come up with something different.
It's not fair on Quinn, Judy knows, because the same pressures haven't been placed on Sarah. As the older child, all of it has been distributed to Quinn. The expectations to succeed and carry the Fabray name to ultimate highs.
Law is just the start. Judy knows, if Russell had his way, he would have already laid out the political career he's already envisioned for her. Getting Quinn to want it as well is going to be difficult, and holding her college fund ransom definitely isn't playing into their hands.
She's a product of the both of them, which means she's inherited two stubborn genes. They're definitely in for an interesting year.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to settle her own mind, Judy says, "Can you start on the Greek salad, please?"
Quinn just nods, and then gets to work in silence. Making the salad is usually Sarah's job, but her sister positively hates it, so Quinn usually takes it off her hands in exchange for her chopping the more pungent vegetables.
"Quinn?" Judy suddenly says, snapping Quinn out of her thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"What do you think of Rachel?"
Quinn is suitably caught off guard by the question, and she ducks her head to hide her frown that's followed by a blush. Well, Mom, I think a hell of a lot of Rachel, but I wouldn't want to scar you.
"Uh, what do you mean?" Quinn asks, trying to buy herself some time.
"I mean, she seems nice, right? Quiet and polite. She was happy to spend her Friday evening working on homework, which is just the type of friend one needs."
Quinn realises it's a dig at her own best friend, Santana, who would probably eat nails before she did any type of schoolwork on a Friday night.
Quinn just nods. "She was nice, yeah," she agrees uncomfortably.
"Especially after your display last night."
Quinn clenches her jaw, saying nothing. She just finishes with the salad, sets the bowl on the kitchen table, and then disappears upstairs until she's called for dinner.
It's uncomfortable.
Russell doesn't bring up the massive fight he and Quinn had before he left for Cincinnati on his business trip, and Quinn doesn't bring up anything at all.
Judy and Sarah do most of the talking, most of which involves Sarah's new friend, Rachel. Quinn is caught between being relieved that they're talking about her, and wishing they would stop.
"Rachel who?" Russell asks. "Do I know the family?"
"Rachel Berry," Sarah says. "Her family just moved here from New York."
Russell raises his eyebrows. "New York, huh?"
"She says her mother grew up around Akron, so they thought Ohio was where to move to."
Russell hums. "Berry, you said?"
"Well, that's her father's name," Sarah says, her brow wrinkling. "Her parents are divorced, and she's here with her mother, stepfather and two little brothers."
"Name?"
Sarah pauses. "Pete something, I don't know his surname," she says. "I know her mother teaches at McKinley, and she goes by Corcoran."
"Corcoran," Russell ponders. "I can't say I recognise the name. Are they a good family? Good people? Religious?"
Sarah lifts her shoulders, and then drops them. "I don't know, Dad," she says. "She mentioned her mother grew up singing in church, so I imagine they follow some religion."
"Be careful," Russell says. "Those people from the big cities tend to lose their way."
Sarah laughs. "Not Rachel," she says. "You should meet her, Dad. She's probably the nicest person I've ever met."
Judy nods. "Definitely. Polite to a fault, really."
Russell looks at Quinn. "I'm sure you're going to sing her praises as well?"
Quinn can't help herself. "I heard she's a Yankees' fan."
And, Russell laughs and laughs.
At this point in her life, Quinn recognises that going to church equates to parading her in front of the other families, in order to show her off.
Quinn hates it, but she's come to accept it.
She likes church. She likes the act of worship, cultivating this relationship she has with God. She enjoys how personal it is, and she really likes the music.
What she doesn't like is what happens afterwards.
Exiting the church is something out of the Hunger Games, really. They leave as a family, greet the Reverend, and then congregate on the front lawn to mingle with all the other cookie-cutter, four-person families.
Judy is constantly on the lookout for a good Christian boy for her, and she seems to have set her eyes on William McIntosh, who has the unfortunate honour of being nicknamed Biff.
He comes from a good family, and he's expected to go to Law School as well. He's decent enough to look at, Quinn accepts, but his personality is lacking. He's also a bit of a misogynist, in that he's of the belief that he's better than her merely because of a particular, different chromosome.
So, really, he's an asshole.
But, still, Quinn accepts it when he sits next to her at the lunch table over at the McIntosh house, and she even lets him take a walk with her in their massive backyard after they've eaten pie.
It all feels like a different time, and it's as if she's putting on some kind of show for the entire world to see.
Because, all she really wants to do is... well, not this.
"So, we should go out some time," Biff says, his hands in his pockets and his gaze intense.
Quinn frowns at him. "Is that how you're actually asking me out?"
"Uh, yes."
Quinn rolls her eyes, and then skips ahead of him a few steps. "You're really going to have to work on it if you expect any decent girl to say yes to you, McIntosh."
"Does that mean you're saying no?"
Quinn winks at him. "By my calculation, you haven't even asked."
Biff looks perplexed. "I just did."
"Then, I'm saying no," she says.
"You're saying no?"
"I am."
"Huh."
Quinn shrugs. "You really need to work on how you ask girls out," she says. "Nobody's going to say yes when you do it like that."
"Are you seriously giving me advice on how to get a girl to say yes to me?"
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "You obviously need it."
"I'm a catch."
"You're an ass."
His eyes widen. "Wow, Fabray, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
She laughs, absently twirling, because she's having far too much fun messing with him. "Have you even kissed anyone who isn't your family?"
"Of course I have," he rushes to say. "I'm a catch, remember?"
"Who?"
"What?"
"Who've you kissed?"
He pauses. "Uh, Sally from the country club."
Quinn laughs out loud. "Sally Pemberton?"
"You know her?"
"I'm sure every poor soul in this Hell of a town has kissed Sally Pemberton. Doesn't count."
"What do you care, anyway?"
"I like boys with experience."
"That why you're moving around with that man whore Puckerman?"
Quinn's easy demeanour shifts immediately, and Biff stiffens at the mere idea he's brought out the infamous Head Bitch he's heard so much about.
"Say what you want about me, Biff," Quinn hisses. "But you leave my friends out of it, do you hear me? I could ruin you if I wanted to, and you really, really don't want to test me."
"Right," he says, stepping back, suddenly uncomfortable.
Quinn clears her throat. "Now, it's obvious I'm definitely not the girl for you," she says, rolling her eyes at just how much of an understatement that is. "Do you or do you not want my help actually getting yourself a date?"
"What makes you think you can help me?"
"I'm a girl," she says, scoffing at his stupidity. "I know what girls like." It's a half-truth, as far as she's concerned, and she thinks it'll be a neat exercise to... woo a girl through Biff.
"You're insane," he says.
"So, you don't want my help, then?" she asks. "Come on, you must have your eyes set on some girl."
"I asked you out."
"And, I said no," she patiently says. "Who's next?"
He gives it a bit of thought. "What about that Katherine Wilde?"
Quinn frowns slightly. "Kitty?"
"She's cute, isn't she?"
Quinn wouldn't call her that, no, because she knows what the girl is actually like and, as much of an asshole Biff is, even he doesn't deserve to be railroaded by the force that is Kitty Wilde. The girl will eat him alive. So, she says, "What about Marley Rose?"
"Who?"
She rolls her eyes, because he obviously doesn't pay as much attention to other girls as she does. It's almost funny.
Almost.
She walks up to him and links her arm with his, starting them on their way back to the main house. "Listen to me, McIntosh," she says. "You do as I say, and I'll land you the girl of your dreams."
Biff still looks uncertain, but her encouraging smile settles his apprehension. "What do I do?"
The weeks following Rachel's first visit to the Fabray home are odd ones.
Nothing about her life actually changes, but there's a certain understanding that seems to have settled over and through her.
About herself, and about where she fits into this new life her parents are determined to have her live. As if moving to a new place was magically just going to fix everything. It was naïve of them; some hopeful, last-ditch plan to ensure their daughter... isn't one of those.
As if it's some disease.
Rachel also knows that this... crush she seems to have on Quinn can end only badly. Not only is she the most popular girl in school, McKinley's Queen Bee, but she's also definitely not interested in girls.
Right?
She can't be.
It's suddenly as if Rachel sees her more often. Everywhere, really. In the corridors, in the cafeteria, in the parking lot. They even cross paths in the bathroom a handful of times, and Rachel gets a small smile out of each of those interactions.
It makes her fifteen-year-old self incredibly giddy, and it's really not helping with her stance that she needs to do everything she can to nip this in the bud.
It also really doesn't help that Rachel's - probable - best friend is now Sarah Fabray, who seems to have latched onto her for some reason. Rachel is slightly wary of it, because she knows she's predictably going to have to deal with Sarah wanting to come over to her house at some point, and she doesn't know how that's going to go down with her mother.
Shelby asks her, daily, if she's making friends, and she kind of is. It's just that she knows Shelby's really interested in the friends that are boys, and those include and are limited to Kurt Hummel and Artie Abrahams.
Not quite what Shelby had in mind, Rachel imagines, so she talks only about Sarah, Mercedes and Tina. Maybe these girls, who seem to be interested in boys, will help steer her in the correct direction, right?
Well, Sarah has definitely steered her in a very particular direction, and now she has the problem of liking Quinn Fabray with which to deal.
"So, when are you coming over again?" Sarah asks, throwing herself into her chair beside Rachel and letting out a tired sigh. "My mom's been asking about you. You're the most polite friend Quinn or I have ever had, and she thinks you're a good influence on us."
Rachel lets out a little laugh. "I'm a good influence?"
Sarah narrows her eyes. "Are you trying to say you're not a good influence?" she asks, her tone mischievous. "Because that would be news to me."
"Na ah, Sarah Fabray, we both know you're the bad influence in this friendship."
"Am I corrupting you, Rachel?"
Rachel laughs, because, God, this girl has no idea. "You wish."
Sarah sighs dramatically. "Will you just come over this weekend?" she asks. "We can work on World Geography, and don't you have that song you said you want to prepare for that audition for that, uh, club or something?"
"Glee Club, Sarah," Rachel says. "I still think you should join with me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I can't sing," Sarah says. "Quinn's the one with the voice."
Rachel does her best to ignore any news about Quinn. "Will you just try?" she asks.
"I'm not the creative one in my family," she says. "I mean, music and all that isn't really..."
"Sarah?"
"Hmm?"
"What would Quinn tell you right now?"
Sarah rolls her eyes. "She'd probably tell me to quit being a little shit and stop making excuses," she says. "I mean, whatever, right? It could be fun."
Rachel beams at her. "Of course, it will," she says. "You'll be with me."
"Yeah, yeah," Sarah grumbles. "Just don't make me start singing show tunes or something."
"I would never dream of doing such a thing."
Sarah eyes her critically. "I don't believe you."
"That's not my fault."
"God, what was my life like before I met you?"
"Pretty boring, I'd say."
Sarah shakes her head. "We're in for it with you, aren't we?"
Rachel just shrugs.
She thinks they're all in for it, really.
"Quinn?"
Said blonde turns away from her open locker to spy her sister headed her way with Rachel in tow. Her heart rate quickens slightly when Rachel smiles at her, but she manages to keep her features schooled.
"What's up, baby sister?" she asks. "Berry."
"Fabray," Rachel says, looking amused.
Sarah gets a little too close to her, as she is wont to do; her face basically a breath away from Quinn's. "We need a ride."
"Uh, no."
"Come on," Sarah says. "We have to go somewhere, and you're really the only person we trust to get us to and from our destination safely."
"I'm flattered," Quinn says, pressing a hand over her heart; "but, still no."
"You don't even know where we need to go," Sarah says, almost whining. "It's important."
Quinn sighs. "Okay, I'll bite," she says. "Where do you need to go?"
Sarah leans forward. "Marco's."
Quinn frowns. "The music shop?"
Sarah nods.
"Why?"
"For music, duh."
"I'd watch the sass if I were asking for a ride," Quinn says, and Sarah grins a little. "Why don't you just ask Mom?"
"She's busy, and we have to go today, because we need to practice for our auditions."
"Your auditions?"
"For Glee Club."
"Oh, God."
"What?"
Quinn wants to hide her head in her locker. "Sarah," she says; "can I speak to you in private?"
If Rachel feels a little burned by the request, she doesn't show it. She just says, "I'll see you in the cafeteria," to Sarah and then walks away without looking at Quinn.
The blonde tries not to feel hurt by the dismissal.
"What?" Sarah says, almost snapping. "What's wrong with Glee Club?"
"Jesus, Sarah," she mutters; "everything is wrong with Glee Club." She shakes her head. "I have a hard enough time keeping the jocks off your back without you adding another loser club to the roster."
Sarah frowns. "Excuse me?"
Quinn sighs and drops the volume of her voice. "Look, can you maybe just... reconsider? I didn't even know you liked singing."
"I don't, not really," she says; "but Rachel does, and I'm trying to be a supportive friend."
Quinn blanches, because there's really no way she can realistically protect Rachel from the Neanderthals of this school. Sarah's a Fabray, which makes her somewhat off-limits because she's Quinn's little sister, but she really doesn't help herself by being a Mathlete, a UN Debater and all those other amazing Academic things the idiots of this world feel the need to look down on.
The second Rachel joins this club, she can be guaranteed a daily slushy facial, and the idea of that makes Quinn feel sick to her stomach.
"Look, are you going to take us to Marco's or what?" Sarah asks; "because I can totally ask Puck."
"Like Hell you're asking Puck," she growls. "Whatever. Be at my car straight after school. And you better not take too long, because I have to be back for the game."
"Oh, yeah, Rachel and I are coming to watch," she says. "She's never actually been to a football game before. Can you believe that?"
Quinn feels an unexplainable jealousy that she won't be able to share that first experience with Rachel, and she shakes her head to clear it of that supremely irrational thought. Jesus.
"Okay," Quinn says. "Straight after school. Don't be late."
"I thought you said not to be late," Sarah grumbles as Quinn unlocks the trunk of her car, arriving fifteen minutes after the last bell.
"Mr Nichols wanted to talk to me," Quinn says. "And, stop leaning against my car with those jeans. You're going to mess up the paint."
Sarah tosses her school bag into the trunk, and then calls shotgun before getting into the passenger's side.
Quinn glances at Rachel, who looks a little unsure. "You weren't actually waiting long, were you?"
"No," Rachel says, carefully placing her bag beside Sarah's. "She's just being dramatic."
"It's her middle name."
"It's actually Jane, and can we please get going?" Sarah calls out.
Quinn rolls her eyes as she deposits her own bag, and then moves to the driver's side. Without giving it much thought, she opens the back door for Rachel, who immediately blushes, and then ducks into the car.
Quinn spends a moment gathering herself before she gets in as well, and starts the ignition. It's okay. It… wasn't that weird, was it?
Sarah immediately fiddles with the radio while Quinn slips on her sunglasses. This way, when she sneaks looks at Rachel through the rearview mirror, nobody will know.
That's what she thinks, at least, as she starts to back out of her parking spot, but it's as if Rachel can sense whenever she looks, because those chestnut eyes always seems to lift whenever she risks a peek.
Well.
The ride is made mostly in silence, give or take a few of Sarah's comments on the Top 40 radio station she's found. Quinn feels both unsettled and not, and she knows it has everything to do with the girl currently sitting in her backseat.
When they pull up at Marco's, Sarah barely waits for Quinn to shift into Park before she's getting out of the car.
Rachel's pace is slower, more normal, and Quinn watches them disappear into the shop with purpose. She contemplates whether or not to follow them inside, eventually deciding she'll wait at least twenty minutes before she goes in.
In the meantime, she takes out her phone and texts Santana about what the plans for the evening are. Apparently, she's planning on hitting up a college party in Columbus with Brittany and a few other cheerleaders and jocks.
Quinn doesn't think she can get away with it with her father going to be home tonight. Plus, going all the way to Columbus just to get hit on by drunk college boys doesn't really sound like a good time to her.
She could just stay home tonight, maybe get some reading done, write a little. It could be a good, relaxing evening.
That sounds more appealing to her at the moment.
Declining Santana's invitation, Quinn finally heads inside, curious about what the two girls are actually doing. She's surprised and also not to find Sarah listening to music via headphones in the corner, and Rachel carefully searching the array of sheet music.
Almost without her consent, Quinn moves towards the brunette, her heart beating a little faster. "Hey," she says, getting Rachel's attention. "Find anything?"
Rachel looks up at her, blushing slightly. "Sort of," she says. "Have you heard the song On My Own from the seminal Broadway classic, Les Mis?"
"Can't say I have," Quinn says, not actually having to think about it. "Is that what you're thinking of singing?"
"Well, it's either that or something from my extensive Barbra Streisand repertoire."
"You're a fan?"
Rachel laughs unexpectedly. "Something like that, yeah," she says. "I think I was breastfed on her music."
Quinn smiles softly, suitably charmed. "I can't say I've listened to much of her music," she admits.
"Uh huh," Rachel says, resuming her searching. "I didn't find any on your iPod."
"Oh, right," Quinn says, keeping her focus on Rachel when she really should be at least pretending to sift through the music. "What did you think about my collection of music?"
Rachel peeks at her, unsure how she's supposed to handle having Quinn's full attention this way. The girl is distractingly stunning, and Rachel's quite certain she'll never be able to get the image of Quinn Fabray in Wayfarers out of her head for as long as she lives.
"Honestly?" Rachel asks, trying to buy herself time.
Quinn nods, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Rachel's eyes drop to her mouth, and she has to pinch herself to stop making such a fool of herself. "Uh, well, there was quite a lot of Pop on there, and Rock. A lot of Indie, too." She licks her lips. "I was pleasantly surprised by the Hip Hop, to be honest," she says.
"Oh?"
"Doesn't... seem like you, really."
Quinn lets out a soft laugh. "What does seem like me?"
"The Hillsong I found on there," Rachel says. "Do you listen to a lot of Christian music?"
Quinn hesitates, and then she nods.
"Because you like the music, or because it's Christian music?"
Quinn frowns. "I don't understand," she says.
Rachel's eyes widen slightly. "Uh, never mind," she rushes to say, looking away. "I don't even know what I'm asking."
Quinn steps closer to her and drops the volume of her voice. "Hey," she murmurs. "If you're trying to ask me about my religion, you can just ask me, you know? I don't mind talking about it."
Rachel meets her gaze. "You're a Christian?"
Quinn nods. "Roman Catholic, yes," she says.
"Practicing?"
"Church every Sunday, yes," she says, almost rolling her eyes. "Bible Studies, Youth Group, the works."
Rachel regards her carefully. "You don't sound as if you enjoy any of it," she points out.
"I don't, not really," Quinn says. "I mean, I like going to church, usually, because it's supposed to be this place of worship, you know, but... it's changed, in this town."
"What do you mean?"
Quinn looks thoughtful for a moment, and Rachel realises she's about to get significant insight into the thinking of Quinn Fabray. "Sometimes, I get the feeling it's become less about God," she says, and her voice is so low that Rachel has to lean in to hear her. "It's more about people trying to best each other, somewhat. They go to church for appearances' sake, sometimes, and I hate it."
Rachel thinks she understands what Quinn is trying to say. She wants to ask more, because she hasn't really figured out what Quinn's thoughts on... homosexuality are, and she doesn't know if that's the type of question you can just ask of a stranger.
She hasn't even inquired about Sarah's feelings towards it yet, and she's almost too afraid to find out at this point. What happens then? Would she lose the closest friend she's ever had?
It isn't as if Rachel has any intention of... doing anything. Her proclivities, as it were, are the reason they had to leave New York. Her mother was convinced being in the big city was... 'Turning' her, and she needed to nip it in the bud.
She wouldn't have Rachel turning out like her father, now would she?
Rachel isn't supposed to be gay, so she's not going to be.
But, someone please have mercy, because Quinn is a stunning creature, and Rachel knows no good can come of them spending time together. It was easier to ignore her childish fascination when Quinn was just the Head Cheerleader with the cold stare who roamed the corridors, but now Quinn smiles and laughs and her hazel eyes twinkle, and Rachel is going to lose a battle that hasn't even started.
"I believe in God," Quinn says. "I have faith, and I believe in the Higher Power, but..." she trails off. "But, I guess I don't just accept everything as it's written. As it's interpreted."
Rachel thinks Quinn is trying to tell her something very important, and she's about to ask for some clarification when they're interrupted by Sarah.
"I found it," Sarah exclaims, reaching for Rachel's hand and tugging. "It's perfect."
Rachel allows herself to be dragged away, but she glances over her shoulder at Quinn, unsurprised to find the blonde still looking at her.
There's a question in her eyes, but Rachel doesn't know her nearly well enough to figure it out.
She's resolved to keep it that way.
Because, really, Rachel worries, with every second she spends with Quinn, that she's falling deeper and deeper into this hole she won't be able to climb out of, but there's really nothing to be done about it.
Quinn has her attention.
Quinn has her entire focus and, when they eventually find themselves sitting in the bleachers at the game later that evening, Sarah keeps having to nudge her to get her to pay attention to the plays on the actually field.
She has no attention to spare.
Rachel is fully aware she's been staring at Quinn for long enough to be creepy. She's trying to be subtle about it, but the girl is right there in the shortest skirt imaginable, and she's twirling and dancing and doing these jumps, and Rachel is... lost.
Wholly and completely.
Quinn has the longest legs imaginable, her muscles tensing and flexing as she moves, and it's just too much.
The halftime display has her sweating all over, and Rachel hates that she's been reduced to a typical teenage boy when it comes to ogling a particular blonde cheerleader. She's quite certain she's not the only one, as well, which makes her feel even worse.
But, the Quinn on display is cheeky and sassy and smiley, and Rachel wonders how the girl doesn't get exhausted from putting on what Rachel has come to learn is an act for extended periods of time. Rachel thinks she gets to see the real Quinn - the one who's dark and twisted - and she should be relieved Quinn even remembers how to be herself, even if she hides it.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and make the wild claim that football doesn't interest you," Sarah says when the final whistle blows and the crowd cheers. "Like, at all."
Rachel snaps to attention, dragging her eyes away from where Quinn is shouting out instructions to her Squad. "Hmm?"
"Did you even notice we actually won our first game of the season?"
"What?"
Sarah just shakes her head. "Come on," she says; "Quinn said to meet at her car."
Rachel almost wants to scream No, and then walk home herself, but that would just raise unnecessary questions she's not prepared to answer.
Quinn hasn't done anything wrong. It's not her fault Rachel is feeling these things, which is what she's had to convince herself of in the dead of night after she's attempted to cry herself to sleep following yet another non-fight with her mother.
It's exhausting.
Quinn is exhausting, especially when she does that cute little jump onto both feet when she arrives at her car's trunk, smiling widely at both fifteen-year-olds.
"Can you believe it?" Quinn asks, unlocking the car and opening her trunk. "Like, can you actually believe it? San's convinced it's going to snow in October, because we actually won. What sorcery is this?"
Sarah is clearly amused by her sister's antics. "Why are you so happy?" she asks. "You don't even care about football."
"Well, duh," Quinn says, setting her bag in the trunk. "But, I do care when they win, because, God, this is going to be the first Saturday we don't have Cheerios practice in like five million years."
"You're so dramatic," Sarah deadpans, moving to climb into the car.
"Pot, meet kettle," Quinn calls out, and then does the thing and winks at Rachel with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Heaven help her.
It's the sound of Quinn's snort that draws Rachel's attention, and she looks away from the television at the girl sitting at the opposite end of the couch.
Quinn lifts her gaze from her phone to look at her. "Santana's at a party in Columbus," she explains; "and she's sending me a complete thesis on just how important Professor McGonagall was in Harry Potter's life." She reaches across to show Rachel the screen.
Rachel leans in to read the texts that are no more than a garbled mess about love and honour and biscuits. She lets out a laugh. "I agree with her, wholeheartedly."
Quinn chuckles. "I'll be sure to let her know when she's sober and completely mortified by her behaviour."
"You sound irritated," Rachel points out, slightly curious about it.
It's just the two of them in the living room. Quinn ended up taking the two girls for pizza - which may or may not have been a tactic of avoidance with regards to her father - and they arrived home after their parents retired for the evening.
Right now, Sarah is upstairs in the shower. They all went at the same time, but Sarah is notorious for taking her sweet time, so Quinn and Rachel have been alone for all of seven minutes, and Rachel is bound to make a fool of herself.
"Not really," Quinn says. "Should I be?"
"I don't know," she responds. "I guess I just don't get why people find drunk texts annoying, to begin with." She sounds slightly exasperated. "Isn't it nice knowing you're the person they're thinking of when their brain isn't even functioning properly?"
Quinn stares at her for a moment, thinking over what she's said. "Trust you to make sense of everything," she finds herself saying.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks quickly, unsure if Quinn is actually insulting her or trying to pay her a compliment. Either one makes her slightly uncomfortable, because these are the situations she needs to avoid.
Quinn just smiles, her eyes bright, and Rachel's heart wants to take off again. "I don't mean anything by it," she assures. "You just seem like the sort of person who's got it all figured out."
Rachel has to laugh at that, because she's felt like a complete and utter mess since she first spoke to Quinn. She's completely out-of-sorts, and she's surprised by the fact she's been able to make it through the past three weeks when all she's thought about is the blonde currently eyeing her curiously.
Rachel clears her throat. "What could I possibly know?" she asks, almost innocently. "I'm only fifteen."
Quinn's face falls slightly at the unfortunate reminder of her age. What on earth is she doing? This girl is the same age as her sister, for goodness' sake. She swallows, finally coming to her senses. "Well," she says; "you still seem to have more figured out than I do, at the moment."
Rachel tilts her head to the side. "Why do you say that?"
Quinn hesitates, unsure if she should even be having this sort of conversation with a girl she barely knows. "I guess I'm just unsure about a lot of things at the moment," she says. "One could say my dreams for the rest of my life aren't necessarily lining up with the dreams my father has for me."
"Oh."
Quinn shrugs. "It's whatever," she says. "I still have a few months to figure things out. We'll see what happens."
Rachel has the sudden desire to comfort her in some way, and the lost look on Quinn's face really isn't helping. Her brow is creased, and Rachel has the near irrepressible urge to smooth it with the pad of her thumb.
Quinn always just seems so much more real in moments like these, and Rachel wishes she could always be like this.
It's a futile desire, she knows, but she's decided to want lots of things she can't have, apparently.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Quinn suddenly asks.
Rachel barely has to think about it. "An actress on Broadway."
Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Really," Rachel confirms. "I've been working since I was three years old to reach that dream, and..." she trails off. "I guess, not many people can understand what it's like to want something so desperately from such a young age, and be willing to do just about anything to make sure it happens."
"I guess not," Quinn quietly agrees. "Good for you then, Berry."
"What about you?" Rachel asks.
"What about me?"
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Quinn can't handle looking at her, so she rather focuses on her own hands when she answers. "When I was little, I wanted to be a... plant scientist." She lets out an amused breath. "That's what I used to call it, can you imagine? And then I wanted to be a doctor, because I think every kid wants to be a doctor at some point in their lives." She grins a little. "You're the exception, obviously."
Rachel smiles back at her, wondering how she's supposed to fight her feelings when Quinn is being so open with her.
"But, I guess, now I want to be a writer," Quinn admits so softly that Rachel barely hears her. "It's not some kind of secret that I write, but it's just not a feasible career for me to pursue, and I - " she stops, sighing. "I wish I was brave enough to go after it the way you are."
Rachel looks at her, serious and unassuming. "I think you'll come through when the time calls for it," she says. She would say more, but it's the moment Sarah finally shows herself, and Rachel's mouth snaps shut.
Quinn just smiles once in appreciation, and then returns her attention to her phone.
Fifteen minutes later, Quinn gets up and says she's headed to bed. She makes sure to remind Sarah to switch off all the lights before they head up, bids them both goodnight, and then disappears.
Rachel can't tell if she's relieved or disappointed.
As is usual, Rachel's eyes automatically open at six o'clock on the dot. It's not something she's entirely convinced she wants to change about herself, but she would definitely like to have her ability to return to sleep after she wakes adjusted.
Just, small mercies, please.
Sighing heavily, she rolls out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. She's careful and silent as she pads across the floor, wary of running into Quinn, as is wont to happen whenever she's in this house. And, as cute as Quinn claims her just-woke-up look is, Rachel would rather not be in that state in front of her ever again.
Well.
Not unintentionally.
Rachel brushes her teeth, washes her face and uses the toilet before she returns to the guest bedroom. She throws on one of her Argyle sweaters and then heads down the stairs.
It's still a little disconcerting moving around the Fabray home without anyone around, but she tries not to think about it too much. She heads to the kitchen to make herself some tea, and then she goes to the living room to watch television.
This is how Quinn finds her nearly an hour later, her feet tucked under her body and her chin resting on her left hand. She's completely relaxed, which is such a contrast to how she feels in her own home.
With her own family, she's constantly worried that one of them can hear what she's thinking, and then there will be some kind of fight, and then they'll move again.
She hates that her mother has made it clear to her brothers that the reason they even moved in the first place is because she did something.
They obviously don't know what, but it's definitely something.
And, frankly, Rachel would do it again.
Quinn is biting into a green apple when she enters the living room, and her eyes light up when she sees Rachel. "You're up."
"Good morning to you, too," Rachel says, unable to stop herself from smiling at her.
"Have you been up long?" Quinn asks, moving to drop her body onto the opposite end of the couch.
"Not really."
"I think you lie, Miss Berry."
Rachel just shrugs, her eyes desperate to trail along Quinn's exposed legs. She's wearing the kind of shorts that were probably designed to torture people like Rachel.
"You should probably know that Sarah's really not an early riser," Quinn says. "She's also not a night owl. She likes her sleep. You're bound to spend a lot of time alone."
"But, I'm not alone," Rachel points out.
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "You don't think I have better things to do than babysit my kid sister's friend?"
Rachel would feel affronted if Quinn weren't smiling. "Well, I don't know, Quinn, do you?" She turns her body slightly. "I mean, you're sitting here with me right now, aren't you?"
"I'm polite," she says with a shrug. "You're also in my seat."
"I don't see your name anywhere."
"Did you even look?"
"Would I even find it?"
Quinn just grins at her, and then goes for another bite of her apple. The crunch is almost deafening, but they don't look away from each other.
Rachel wonders if Quinn can sense her attraction, as if it's written all over her forehead that she thinks Quinn is the most stunning person she's ever met.
Sometimes, she gets the feeling she reeks of it; of this sin her mother is desperate to force out of her. She's supposed to hide it, she knows, but she can't stop herself from staring at Quinn. Her eyes, her nose, her lips, her ears, her hair, her neck. It's a really glorious neck.
"You would probably find Sarah's name," Quinn says. "She used to write on every surface available. A right menace, that one."
The more time Rachel spends with both Quinn and Sarah, the more insight she's being offered into the relationship between them. It's unlike anything she's experienced before, given that she's never really had friends who are girls.
In truth, she doesn't know much about the girl asleep upstairs. Sure, they're in a lot of the same classes, and, yes, they sit together in some of those classes, but there's only so much you can learn about a person just by talking to them.
Rachel returns her attention to the television, visibly amused by the antics of Tim Allen in Last Man Standing.
Still, Quinn watches her, clearly not shy about staring. She knows she should stop. It's inappropriate, wrong, even rude, but she just can't take her eyes off the brunette.
All of a sudden, she understands the ridiculous cliché.
This girl is beautiful, and the best part is she doesn't even know it.
She knows she shouldn't, but she can't help herself. "So," Quinn starts, smiling softly; "about that run?"
Rachel thinks she's prepared, but she's really not.
Going for a run with Quinn seems like a good idea right until the moment they're actually on their way, and she can hear Quinn breathing right beside her.
Rachel tries to focus on her steps and her own breathing. She tries not to look at Quinn, but the girl is like a magnet, and she finds her gaze drifting more often than not.
Quinn has perfect form as she runs, her back straight and her legs propelling her forward with simple grace. It's obvious she's been properly trained and, based on what she's heard about the cheerleading budget, it's not surprising.
Quinn runs with purpose, and it puts Rachel to shame.
Still, she manages to keep up with Quinn's somewhat blistering pace for at least three miles before she visibly starts to fade.
When Quinn notices, she slows her feet, and Rachel sends her a grateful smile, which turns out to be a mistake... because Quinn is sweaty and red and breathing heavily and looking at her with curious eyes.
So, it's almost inevitable that she trips... and would hit the ground if Quinn's left hand didn't immediately shoot out to steady her, though she doesn't make contact before Rachel can catch herself.
The would-be-fall brings them both to a stop, and they exchange a single look before they both burst out laughing. Rachel doubles over, partly because she can't breathe but mostly because she might pass out if she keeps looking at Quinn.
Because Quinn is also breathing and laughing, and her chest is heaving, and Rachel just wants to stare.
She has a feeling that might not go down well.
"You okay?" Quinn eventually asks, getting control of her laughter and breathing.
Rachel finally straightens and smiles in reassurance. "I'm fine," she says. "You're just very fast."
"Oh."
"Oh, what?"
"Nothing."
Rachel eyes her carefully. "That wasn't your fastest, was it?"
Quinn shrugs. "You sure you're okay?"
Rachel nods.
"Think you can manage to jog back?"
Rachel gets them started, and, after a few quick steps, Quinn is right beside her, looking as if she hasn't just run almost four miles already.
It's not fair.
Quinn shouldn't get to do this to her.
Still, somehow, Rachel lets her.
When they finally make it back to the house, they find Judy in the kitchen, with a man Rachel can only assume is the patriarch of the family, Russell Fabray. Judy is busy at the stove and Russell is sitting at the kitchen table with his newspaper.
"Sarah still not up?" Quinn asks, moving to kiss Russell on the cheek and stealing a piece of pineapple from his plate.
"Is that a rhetorical question?" Russell questions, looking over at Rachel. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Sir," Rachel says, nervously wringing her fingers together. She's flushed and sweaty, and this is definitely not how she wants to be introduced to Quinn and Sarah's father.
"Is this the famous Rachel I've been hearing so much about?" Russell asks his wife, smiling in Rachel's direction.
Steeling herself, Rachel steps forward and holds out her hand. "Rachel Berry, Sir," she says. "It's nice to meet you."
Russell looks slightly amused, but he shakes her hand, regardless. "You too, dear," he says. "Please call me Russell." Rachel is definitely not going to do that. "My girls seem quite taken with you; including the tall one standing over the stove."
"Russell," Judy says, laughing.
Rachel flushes even more, which she didn't even think was possible. "Oh, uh..."
Quinn laughs knowingly. "Come on, Berry," she says. "We can let him tease us later. I don't know about you, but I want to get out of these sweaty clothes."
And, Rachel is suddenly thankful for the red already in her cheeks, because the sheer thought of Quinn sans clothing sends her heart into overdrive.
Jesus.
"Yeah," Rachel says, sounding a little breathless.
Quinn starts to go.
Judy calls after her. "Wake your sister while you're up there, would you?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she calls over her shoulder, and then smiles when she locks eyes with Rachel. She gestures for them to get going, and Rachel practically skips into motion, following close behind Quinn.
Quinn walks slowly up the stairs. "So, that was my Dad," she says.
"He seems nice," Rachel says, unsure what else to say.
Quinn just hums noncommittally, and then they part ways in silence.
Rachel thinks she needs the time and space away from Quinn, just to gather her wits. She just went on a run with Quinn. She just spent close to an hour alone with Quinn, and she just about survived it.
Sort of.
Her heart is still beating a little too fast and her breathing hasn't slowed, and it has nothing to do with the physical exercise she's just participated in.
It's Quinn.
And it's a very big problem.
Rachel doesn't exactly take her time in the shower, but she also doesn't rush. She needs to give herself enough time to recover from her run with Quinn, her meeting with Russell and the general acceptance that she has a massive, disastrous, gay crush on her friend's older sister.
Oh, this is all just going to end terribly.
When Rachel is ready, she peeks into Sarah's room to check if she's up, and she's surprised to find the girl's bed empty. Little victories.
She finds Sarah downstairs, already seated at the kitchen table with Russell and Judy.
Judy smiles when she sees her. "Quinn not with you?"
Rachel shakes her head. "Want me to run up and get her?"
"Oh, no, dear, Sarah can go," Judy immediately says.
"I really don't mind; I'm already up," Rachel says, and she's already moving before Judy can argue some more. She takes the stairs two at a time, and finds herself in front of Quinn's closed bedroom door before she knows it.
She hesitates, as if steeling herself, and then lifts her hand to knock.
"Just a second," Quinn calls out from behind the door, and then opens it a moment later. She's casually rubbing behind her lower hip with one hand, and Rachel catches sight of what looks like some kind of vial on the desk behind her.
"Oh, hey," Quinn says, shifting slightly to block Rachel's view into her bedroom.
Rachel blinks, flushing slightly. "Um, breakfast is ready," she says.
"Okay, I'll be right down," Quinn says, and then immediately closes the door again.
Rachel really isn't sure what to make of the entire exchange, and she tries her best not to think about it as she heads back down the stairs to find that the family has waited for her.
It's for her, she knows, because they start to eat the moment she's settled, even though Quinn hasn't yet arrived.
It's a good thing, too, because Quinn takes another ten minutes to show herself, and she looks dressed to go out, shoes already on and everything. She slides her bag onto the counter, and then moves to take her seat at the kitchen table beside her mother.
Rachel watches her carefully, quietly amused by the way Quinn studies the offerings in front of her, as if she's trying to figure out what she can realistically get away with eating without her mother making a comment about it.
Too late.
Judy hands her a plate. "Have some bacon," she says, knowing it's one of Quinn's weaknesses. If there's one way to get her daughter to eat, it's to give her bacon.
Quinn's smile is a happy one as she dishes several rashers for herself. She hesitates before adding some scrambled eggs, and some fried tomatoes. She bypasses the toast.
Russell eventually resumes the conversation. "So, what do you lovely ladies have planned for the day?"
Sarah goes first, just having swallowed a mouthful. "Well, Rachel and I going to practice our audition songs," she says.
"Audition?"
"We're joining the Glee Club," Sarah tells him.
He looks perplexed. "What is that?"
"It's show choir, Sir," Rachel answers. "We, um, sing and dance in a large group and compete with other schools."
He seems to mull that over. "That sounds... interesting."
Quinn lets out a laugh. "Say what you're really thinking, Dad," she says, shaking her head.
Russell clears his throat. "Well, I wouldn't say it would be for me, but I'm sure you two will have lots of fun."
Quinn shoots a pointed look at Sarah, which she happily ignores. They're going to have fun, all right, getting slushied every day and dropping so low on the social hierarchy that even Quinn won't be able to save them.
It's a painful truth, but Quinn isn't going to bring it up in front of her parents.
Russell turns to her. "And you? You look as if you're headed out?"
Quinn chews slowly, and then swallows. "I'm going to Santana's house," she says. "We have some work to do, and Brittany and I are going to work out some new choreography she wants to try out for next week's game."
Some of it is a lie, but her parents don't need to know that. She's going to Santana's house only much later, and this morning is going to be spent doing some other things she knows her father won't approve of.
It's nothing particularly scandalous, but he would probably baulk at the thought of his daughter taking a boxing class. She shudders to think what he would say if he knew she also plans to spend large portions of her day at the public library, researching things she probably shouldn't.
If he's going to keep her college fund from her, then she's going to have to figure out a way to pay her own way, if it comes down to it.
"Will you be gone all day?" Judy asks.
"Yes."
Rachel feels oddly disappointed by that, but she just focuses on her breakfast, forcing herself not to look at Quinn. This is really getting out of hand.
"Will you be home for dinner?" Judy asks.
"Probably not."
Judy hums. She's not usually against Quinn not being home for meals, but she prefers it, really, because it's the only way she can be certain Quinn is actually eating.
"Curfew is still eleven-thirty," Russell says.
"No, it's not," Quinn says, barely looking up from her own plate. "Mom changed weekend curfew to midnight."
Russell raises his eyebrows. "She did? When was this?"
Judy clears her throat. "Well, she's a Senior now, Russell," she says. "It seemed fitting."
"I see."
Rachel shifts awkwardly, and Sarah shoots her a wry grin.
"Mine is still ten-thirty, Dad," Sarah says, popping a strawberry in her mouth. "You'll have me for a whole extra ninety minutes before the rage monster gets back."
"Cute," Quinn deadpans.
Sarah blows her a kiss. "Oh, come on, we all know I'm their favourite," she teases, and then seems to miss that Quinn's eyes flash with hurt and her parents both look momentarily guilty.
But, Rachel notices, and her foot automatically shifts forward until it touches Quinn's extended one, the blonde looking up in surprise. Rachel smiles softly, and Quinn hesitates before returning it, hers a little more grateful.
Well.
Every family has its problems, Rachel accepts. At least theirs doesn't involve something her mother believes is unnatural.
She thinks, at least, because Quinn does spend almost as much time looking at her as she looks at the blonde, and Rachel's not sure she's actually imagining it.