"Everything hurts and I'm dying," Roderick was saying, out of breath as he collapsed in a heap on the gym mats near Spencer, who gave him a withering look but then turned it into something like a smile instead. These two had come a long way from when they'd first joined the club. In the beginning, Spencer and Roderick constantly went to war, clashing over their various personality conflicts. Spencer the no-nonsense jock and Roderick the sensitive musician.

"Water makes you weak," Spencer took what would have sounded like a mean jab at Roderick, had he not said this while passing him his water bottle. Roderick promptly guzzled all that he had left.

"Okay, guys, I know I'm usually a drill sergeant," Matt said, turning to face the three red-faced, sweating guys who had just danced two incredibly fast, intricate song-and-dance routines over and over again. (The third song, their ballad, was simple enough not to require complex choreography.) "But I'm gonna suggest we call it quits at this point. We don't want to risk any injuries before next week. Can't have someone hobbling onstage on crutches."

"Again," Alistair added, with a cheeky grin directed at Spencer, as he retied his shaggy red hair into a low ponytail. He couldn't resist bringing up what had happened when Spencer had injured his foot in dance rehearsals and had to use crutches for Sectionals. Lauren remembered that part of the train-wreck that was their Sectionals performance, saved only by her brother taking everyone to church.

"I don't get why you didn't just use a wheelchair," Artie chimed in, from where he sat holding a clipboard and making detailed notes, which he'd reviewed with the guys after each run through. "Much less distracting."

"We figured he'd roll right off the stage," Roderick piped up, never one to let Spencer off the hook for anything. Roderick gave him a playful shove but didn't look mad. It wasn't often that Roderick could say he outpaced someone in a physical activity like dancing, but of the three guys, Spencer was definitely the most clumsy and awkward on the dance floor. And yet even he had shown great improvement under Matt's leadership.

"Looking good, guys." Madison McCarthy surprised them all by appearing in the doorway of the school gymnasium just then, followed by Mason and Jane.

"How'd you get in here on a Saturday?" Roderick wanted to know, recovering enough to get to his feet and make his way over to his girlfriend. They'd reached a comfortable point in their relationship by now, where he didn't care that much if he was all sweaty and gross in her presence, nor did this even phase her.

"Coach made us all keys, in case we needed to schedule extra practices for ourselves on the weekend," Madison explained, as Lauren shook her head at the sheer insanity that was the Cheerio cult. Wearing the uniforms every single day at school, the girls never taking their hair out of the stupid tight ponytails with the singular ringlets, walking in groups down the hallways for the purpose of establishing their supremacy. It was insanity.

"We've come to celebrate your birthday, dude," Mason interjected, with a nod towards Roderick. "Madison told us it's tomorrow. We want to take you to lunch, our treat. So, where are we going?"

Roderick looked around and smiled at the attention, not bothered by it or embarrassed, like the old Roderick would have been. "Well, I guess I've worked off enough calories today to enjoy a little pizza..."

Roderick, ever since he had started Booty Camp, had been dropping some weight, too. He'd still always be a big guy, but now his pants required belting or they'd fall off and his shirts looked baggy. Madison was going to need to take him shopping soon. He hadn't been dieting nearly as strictly as Lauren had, but she'd noticed him being a little more careful lately.

"Pizza?" That got the attention of the four-year-old on the bleachers, who looked up from her coloring book. Mariah pleaded with Matt, with her eyes and a pouty lip. "Can we go too, Daddy?"

Everyone was pretty chill about Matt typically having his four-year-old tagging along, but Lauren knew sometimes he felt weird about being the "old" guy with a kid, hanging out with all the teenagers. Although ever since Lauren had admonished him not long ago, telling him he needed to get over that, Matt seemed a lot more at ease about bringing his daughter along.

"Of course, sweetheart," Matt said, as he helped her collect her crayons and snap them back into an old baby wipes container, putting them in a tattered camouflage backpack that Lauren knew was, at one time, his man diaper bag.

What Lauren didn't count on was Artie texting anyone and everyone he could think of on the way from the school to Bella Notta's Pizza (Roderick's favorite). Lauren had no objection to Kitty showing up (even though she'd once called her brother "the fat kid"), but when Puckerman strolled in, followed closely by Joe Hart, she shot Artie an are-you-kidding-me look down the long table.

To make things even more interesting, the guys sat on either side of Matt, across from Lauren, who was seated with Mariah on her right and Roderick on her left. She was now looking at the three of them, all together, the most attractive collection of men she'd ever beheld. (Yes, even Puck. She couldn't deny she was still attracted to him physically.) They could've be a boy band. She caught side of Artie smirking at her where he sat at the other end of the table, failing to hide the fact that he was pretty amused by what he'd done.

"Lookin' good, Zizes," Puck drawled, staring at her, clearly impressed by what he saw.

She hadn't seen Puckerman since the party at Kitty's house, so of course, he was gonna be surprised to see that twenty more pounds were gone now. She'd really been on a roll lately. Not that she wasn't proud of her progress and all, but lately, it seemed to be the entire reason for her current sense of self-worth. That, and dating a fine man like Matt Rutherford. She wished she had something else to be proud of in life, like maybe college wrestling or the fact that she attended an Ivy League school.

"Thanks." She didn't exactly know how to react, with her boyfriend present, to the compliment from her ex. Luckily, the waitress showed up pretty quickly to take orders for the big group that filled up the biggest table in the place.

They worked out an order for several pies to split among the entire table, with various toppings agreed upon by all. Lauren got a chicken Caesar salad with the dressing on the side. Matt, in a subtle show of solidarity, ordered the same thing for himself.

"You must be the choreographer boyfriend," Joe said to Matt, after the orders had been taken. "Pleased to meet you. I'm an alumni of New Directions. The name's Joe."

"Nice to meet you, Joe," said Matt, shaking hands cordially with the guy presently seated on his right. "I'm Matt. And this is my daughter, Mariah." Mariah flashed a grin from across the table, always pleased to be included. "I'm an alumni of New Directions, too. Just their first year. Then I dropped out to take care of this little munchkin sitting across from me."

"For clarification, he means her," Lauren joked, as she placed her hands on Mariah's shoulders, getting a laugh out of the three guys. "Also, he got his GED, that's not really dropping out."

Lauren said that last part, because she thought it was time that Matt give himself some credit and stopped presenting his past like it was something he ought to be ashamed of. That didn't go unnoticed by Matt, who shot her a grateful grin in return.

Lauren wondered briefly if this was what it was like to be the pretty girl in high school. Surrounded by three guys giving you attention and not sure what to do with all of it. And... and a four year old, asking you to color with her on the kids' menu. Okay, so, it wasn't exactly the high school pretty girl experience, but it did amount to the most male attention she could ever remember receiving in her whole life. It was Roderick's party, but it kind of felt like hers.

That all changed once the food arrived.

So, admittedly, pizza was her biggest weakness and guilty pleasure food. This very pizza place was where she'd been for many of her birthdays as well. So, when the pies arrived, it was kind of hard to dig into her salad and even harder to make herself use as little of the dressing as possible, in order to add flavor but go easy on the carbs and the sugar. It was all for the sake of her revenge body, as the tabloids called it.

She could feel Puck staring at her as she ate. She ignored it as best she could, because confronting him with a snarky word would only confuse Matt, alarm Joe, and make Puckerman think he'd won.

She was doing okay until they got down to the last few slices of pizza. No one was eating them, and man, it was hard to watch the last few slices of her favorite pizza go to waste. She waited and still no one made a grab for it. Finally, after a long struggle with herself, Lauren carefully selected the smallest slice before she could talk herself out it. She set it on the little plate, beside the remains of her salad, and stared at it for a minute. She felt someone's eyes on her. When she looked up, she spotted Puck looking at her again. He gestured, as if to urge her to go ahead. She hated him so much sometimes. He was the one who had once made her feel so bad about her body in the first place. She averted her gaze, picked up the slice, and took a bite. Then another. Then another. Before she knew it, she'd eaten the first piece of pizza that she'd touched in months.

She felt like shit.

No one else paid her any attention as she ate her single slice of pizza. Roderick was laughing along with Jane at a story that Madison and Mason were telling, twin-style, as they kept interrupting each other to tell it. On the opposite end of the story, Artie was deep in a private conversation with Kitty, as though they were the only two at the table. And Joe had found some kind of common ground with Matt, as they chattered on about something she hadn't paid any attention to. She was too busy being worried about one tiny slice of pizza and the effect that tended to have on her ass.

As soon as everyone had finished the pizza, it was time to bring out the cake. As they sang 'Happy Birthday,' Roderick's face blinked on and off like a stoplight. He was overcome with embarrassment over all the attention, but in a good way. As he blew out his eighteen candles and exchanged a long kiss with Madison, Lauren couldn't remember ever seeing him happier than he was right now. But as the slices of Madison's homemade cake started going around the table, Lauren then stood up and excused herself. All she could think about now was the pizza. There was no way she was having that cake, too.

The bathroom was one of those small, unisex restrooms in the far back corner of the restaurant, around the corner and down a short hallway. She stepped inside and stared at the toilet bowl for just a moment, wheels turning in her mind. She could just sort of just... get rid of it, just this once, and then she could stop thinking about the greasy slice of pizza that was presently threatening all the hard work she'd done. She stooped over and just the smell of toilet water was enough to make her gag. But when she heard the retching sound echo off the walls of the narrow room, she stopped just short of going through with it. The sound brought her right back to reality. She straightened up to her full height again and stepped back a few paces as the horror of what she'd nearly done set in.

As she stepped out of the restroom and into the small hallway, her path was blocked by none other than Noah Puckerman. By the look on his face, he'd heard her and he'd guessed exactly what she'd run off to do. She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back a little more forcefully than necessary. A quick look at his face told her he was angry.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Without missing a beat, she answered, "Fabray-ing."

"Is this how you've been losing so much weight?" he asked incredulously, his eyes widening as he thought he'd figured something out.

"No." She jerked her wrist out of his grip and glared at him. "I've been working out at the gym and eating right. I didn't do that, okay? I just... I just thought about doing it. Okay? Please believe me, it's the truth."

"Please don't ever think about doing it again."

She'd never had anything resembling a serious conversation with Puckerman. His jaw was set firmly and he showed no signs of joking around. She didn't even know how to do this dance with him. Without a word, she just gave him a slow nod. And then a weird thing happened.

"Are you crying?"

"No, my contacts are drying up," she lied.

She pushed past him one more time, and this time he let her go. By the time she reached the table, there was no evidence that she'd been tearing up left on her face. She rejoined their obnoxiously loud party in silence. After a few minutes, Puck returned, stilling eyeing her with trepidation. She hoped he'd keep what he thought he'd overheard happening to himself.

"You okay?" Matt held out a slice of cake, which she promptly pushed back towards him, shaking her head.

"Fine," she lied.