Claire examined Rachel's write-up of her dance background (or, to be more accurate, her entire performing arts background), and glanced up at the petite girl. "You pretty much dropped dance last year, save for," - she consulted the sheet - "Jazz/Modern. Any particular reason?"

They were seated together, facing each other, on one of the wooden benches that lined one of the walls in the NYADA dance studio Claire instructed Rachel to meet her in. Rachel had told Claire about the feedback from her previous audition that she lacked fluidity of movement, which Claire agreed with, and they were now discussing Rachel's background in dance. So far Claire had been fairly impressed, since not a lot of people took a dance class every year when it wasn't the future career they wanted to pursue. That is, until the questionable matter of Rachel only sticking to one dance class and her voice lessons last year.

"I was busy with show choir. And with school, and the school musical, and applying to college, dance kind of had to take a back seat to voice lessons." Rachel admitted.

Claire lifted an eyebrow, interested. "Where else did you apply?"

Okay. Maybe not so much with the 'applying to college'. Rachel smiled weakly. "I was not as eagerly accepted into NYADA as I had anticipated."

Claire looked confused.

"I choked." Rachel amended.

"I'm sorry?"

"I choked my audition. And I spent pretty much all my free time afterwards in an attempt to remedy that problem." Rachel explained.

Claire stared at her for a moment, before turning back to the sheet in her hands. She looked back up at Rachel, shaking her head. "Try that again."

"Excuse me?"

Claire pointed at Rachel's write-up. "You've been performing since the age of... Oh: you won your first contest at three months. And you've been in voice and dance lessons pretty much since then, and you're telling me you choked on your NYADA audition?" She interrogated. "Rachel Berry. Either you're lying to me, or last year sucked for you in ways that are beyond my comprehension but could explain why, even with your background, you somehow can't get over the fact that you actually won last December's showcase."

Well. When someone put it in those terms, she didn't really know how to explain what happened last year.

She tried not to think about it too much, the events of the previous year. Somehow, between declaring on the Gershwin stage that she was going to focus on her future and career and ending up brokenhearted and saying goodbye to her high school glee club on a train platform before heading to New York, she had lost sight of what Broadway meant to her and allowed her life to go off the rails. She had clung desperately to Finn, repeatedly broken her flawless attendance record, got suspended and subsequently lost the lead to their Sectionals performance, allowed others (Blaine) to upstage her in the Glee Club she had built from almost nothing, and almost bound herself to the small town mentality of Lima, Ohio.

Pretty much all but lost her close relationship with Jesse. Almost lost her friendships with Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and even Puck. Almost lost Quinn.

Almost lost New York, and Broadway.

She really didn't like thinking about last year.

"I don't know what to tell you," Rachel said instead, feigning an ambivalence she most certainly did not feel.

Claire looked at her for one long studying minute, as if discerning the truth behind that statement, before she turned back to Rachel's write-up. "So is there any particular dance you want to focus on?"

"No, just a general marked improvement." Rachel admitted, relieved that the questioning of her recent past was over. "I don't know if you noticed, during class..."

"You count steps." Claire finished for her. She nodded. "Very obvious counting, actually. And you do a weird hop/skip step when changing directions during freestyle. It's very distracting."

Rachel frowned. Did she?

"You also need to change dance partners." Claire advised her. "I don't know how you ended up with him..."

"Kyle." Rachel supplied the name of her dance partner.

"...But the two of you aren't working. He's half a step slower than he should be and you need someone who can lead properly. I can help you work on the solo stuff, but in class you need to help yourself. Choose a better partner."

Rachel's was aghast. "I can't do that!"

Claire looked puzzled at the objection. "There's a whole class of guys to choose from. Actually, the redhead in your class who could work well with him. Ask her if she wants to trade partners."

"But it'll hurt his feelings!"

Claire was now officially confused. "And?"

"That's mean!" Rachel cried.

"Not if it's helping all four of you in the long run," Claire pointed out. "Rachel Berry, when your grades come in and the two of you get piled with demerits because of all the technical flaws, he's not going to care whether or not you stayed with him to spare him his feelings. In fact, I guarantee you one day you'll get told to change partners and if you're lucky you won't get a shit ton of criticism to go with that instruction. If you're very lucky, redhead and her dance partner wouldn't have improved their rhythm in that time. Besides, nobody's going to want to trade partners that late in the term. Spare yourself the drama, tell your dance partner it's not working out."

"We can improve!" Rachel said defensively.

Claire shook her head, annoyed that the girl who had done her best to convince her to provide dance lessons was now protesting her advice. "I'm not telling you this to create a training montage in your head, Berry. He sucks. And in the meantime, you're sucking alongside him. You can improve." She lifted the write-up. "This tells me you're better than what I saw in your class. You could do better. His learning curve will take a little longer. Switch partners. Sing him Kumbaya while you do it, if it will make you feel better. Just do it."

"But-"

"Favor bank!" Claire snapped, shutting Rachel up cold, and left the two of them in silence.

Rachel sat, stunned at the sharp tone of Claire's voice. It was so reminiscent of all those years of Quinn and even Santana sidling up to her while she was doing innocuous tasks like changing her books at her locker and being verbally berated at for some random thing Rachel could only guess at and cower under their sharp and cutting statements. The difference is that unlike then, Rachel knew the verbal lashing she had just received wasn't just because of some imagined slight she had done: She had asked Claire for help, and Claire was trying to, just not in a way Rachel liked.

Not that any of her past instructors had been particularly gentle in their teaching. Not Madame Vivienne and her demand for perfect pitch. Not any of her dance teachers and their disdain that while she didn't lack the figure they would have wanted for their class, she had the form and determination.

In fact, when she thought about it, Madame Vivienne had only become enamored with her voice when Rachel got older, after that heart arrhythmia during Rachel's junior year had forced her to be more calm and less severe in their lessons.

Schuester.

Rachel realized with a start: her refusal to take instruction without having to question it stemmed from years under William Schuester, her Glee Club advisor. He had questioned her at every turn, refused to utilize her (superior) song selections, demoted her from lead in the guise of giving everyone a turn (and yet had consistently insisted for Finn to be the male lead on all songs), and even refused to acknowledge - even reverse - decisions she made for the betterment of the Glee Club even though she was team captain. He had helped demoralize her, had sat back while others in the club attacked her (if only just verbally), and had even gone so far as to infer that she was not the superior talent in that group.

She had so gotten used to doubting the intelligence behind her Glee Club instructor's decisions and actions that she had applied that same doubt to others. She no longer recognized constructive criticism and only saw that she was being questioned, being challenged, and that her feelings were not the important thing on the road to improvement of her skills.

As she had with Cassandra July. And Jesse. And now Claire, whom she had specifically approached because Claire was the best in the school.

Tears of shame (that she was so blindly defensive) and humiliation (that she was so emotionally beaten down that she didn't know how to take criticism anymore) blurred Rachel's vision as she lowered her head, keeping her gaze locked on her hands.

"I'm sorry." Rachel whispered, knowing that if she said it any louder her voice would crack (and she couldn't have that).

Claire sighed. She hated it when people cried. She'd seen it too often when she had been a ringer for various ballet recitals, depriving so many girls her age the chance to become the lead (the star), and had often heard the hushed whispers and shuddering breaths of those girls when they realized they wouldn't get the chance to shine. She hadn't much liked being a ringer, either, but when you were the most talented dancer in the entire state, and ballet and dance schools wanted to have their schools publicized and noticed, it was best to bring in a ringer for the big recital. With a voice tinged with exasperation and devoid of any major concern, Claire uttered, "Berry, don't cry."

"I j-just..."

"Just change partners." Claire declared, a little impatiently, wanting to get Rachel's crying session over and done with. "It's not a big thing. Take control of your life, and all that stuff."

"I d-did-didn't mean to..." Rachel took a deep breath.

Oh God. Claire sighed, hearing the shudder in that intake. Was it possible to get Post-Traumatic Stress from the tears of sad girls? She hoped not, and she especially hoped Rachel Berry developed a thicker skin soon, because she had only learned from the most demanding of ballet teachers, and didn't know how to teach in any other way. She liked Rachel enough, but she wasn't going to coddle the girl: They weren't even friends.

Claire sighed, and decided to talk about something random, hoping it would stop the crying. "How was your weekend?"

Oh she did not see the increase in waterworks coming. Nor did Claire anticipate the blubbering gibberish that followed.

"I have no idea what you just said."

Rachel looked up, paused briefly to frown when she realized Claire wasn't holding out a tissue or kerchief or anything to help her wipe away her tears, and brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. "I can't look at Brody."

"I know," Claire agreed genially. "He's like the Jude Law robot in that weird robot movie. How is that movie supposed to pass for existentialism, I don't know."

Rachel stared at her, wondering what the hell the dancer was talking about, before she continued, "I keep thinking of someone else."

Claire wondered if her wish to brush up on her various dancing techniques via instruction was worth the drama of being around Rachel Berry. She considered what the girl had said, and wondered, "Did you sleep with someone else?"

"What? No!" Rachel shrieked in protest.

"Then what's the problem?" Claire asked, confused.

"It's like emotional cheating!" Rachel exclaimed.

"But it's a casual relationship, I don't understand..." Claire let her voice drift off, not knowing quite how to describe or begin to approach Rachel's emotional state, as well as seeing Rachel's puzzled expression.

"How did you know that?" Rachel asked, her tears subsiding as she voiced her confusion.

"What?"

"That Brody and I have an open relationship." Rachel elaborated.

"Other than the fact that he tells every girl he knows that you two aren't serious?" Claire queried. He really did, and it was nauseating to watch girls giggle and relish the attention. It had been nauseating when she had only known him in passing and mainly by name and reputation, but now that she knew Rachel, it had become a reason for a very thorough disdain.

Rachel frowned at the confirmation that Brody was flirting with other girls. She had agreed to the "open relationship", sure, but that had been abstract. Yes, she had technically asked Jesse for a date, but that was different. She didn't know exactly how, but it had to be.

"I told you he's a tool." Claire reminded.

"He's not like that." Rachel protested weakly.

Claire smiled wryly. "He really is."

"His girlfriend hurt him badly." Rachel argued, defending the boy she was dating. Just like she always did. "He's sweet, and nice. He was a friend when I didn't have anyone else."

"Did he also say he's willing to just be your friend and zero in for a kiss five seconds later?" Claire put forth.

Rachel's silence was enough of an affirmative answer.

Claire sighed. She was socially inept, but she wasn't totally soulless. "Look. I'm not saying he's not a nice guy. Compared to some other guys I've met, Brody Weston's not that bad. But you have to admit that someone who pulls the shit he does can't be that good a guy."

Rachel glanced away, and again felt that flashback of high school, when everyone in Glee revealed that they knew about Finn having lost his virginity to Santana while she had been lied to and kept in the dark. She had felt like an idiot then, and she felt like an idiot now.

"You should have stayed in the dorms," Claire said quietly. "A lot of girls could have warned you."

"I just don't understand why I keep ending up with..." Rachel didn't know how to finish that sentence. Finn tended to be insensitive (most of the time). Jesse had broken an egg on her head. Brody apparently enjoyed the "casual relationship" thing freely. Noah Puckerman had been relatively nice to her even after they had dated, but he was also the guy who had fed Quinn enough wine coolers to get her drunk so he could have sex with her and did it without protection.

Yeah. Not the best track record.

"Did you..." Rachel began hesitantly.

Claire tilted her head to the side questioningly.

"You and Brody-?"

Claire recoiled, revolted. "God, no. He's too Ken Doll-like for my taste. Too corn-fed. No."

"So... that whole thing, that he does: That's why you hate him?" Rachel asked.

Claire paused thoughtfully, considering. "Well, that's part of it. I really just hated him on sight. I've met too many guys like him, and they're never really worth knowing. Then I heard the stories, and Ms. July started sleeping with him... He never really did anything to make himself worth knowing."

"So he's been sleeping with Cassie July for a while?" Rachel asked.

"She usually waits until they're not in her class anymore, and it's one of NYADA's worst kept secrets, but rumor has it they started hooking up late last school year."

Honestly. Rachel hated last year.

Claire glanced at the clock on the wall, and sighed in relief. Time flies when you're talking to someone you don't mind about someone you loathe. "Well, time's up. We'll start with ballet next time. We've agreed, Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

Rachel had really hoped Thursdays or Fridays wouldn't have been an option, since those were days Jesse was free at an earlier hour, but she really needed to improve her dancing. "Yes. Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Claire stood up, and picked up her bag, before pausing and turning back to Rachel. "Can I ask you a question?"

Rachel nodded.

"Why do you carry your entire home and kitchen sink with you?" Claire asked, motioning to Rachel's large bag. "You're tiny, and that's dangerous."

"Oh," Rachel smiled faintly. "Our apartment's an hour away by subway. I have to bring everything I might need for the day."

"Weston won't let you keep your stuff in his dorm?" Claire asked.

"I don't feel comfortable." Rachel admitted.

Claire frowned. "But you sleep with him."

"Yes."

Claire was certain Rachel Berry had caused her fair share of headaches and migraines in the past. Instead of asking for clarification, she inquired, "You know that you can rent a locker in the the student center, right?"

What, now?

Off Rachel's confused look, Claire explained. "The Student Center has a bank of lockers in the back. You have to bring your own lock, but you can rent those things for the semester. They're like twenty bucks. The room smells a little, but that's got to be better than lugging everything around."

Rachel nodded dumbly. Why hadn't she known this? "I'll look into it."

"If there aren't any available, tell me. I can find someone who's willing to offload their locker."

"Thank you."

Claire nodded, and left the room.

Not soon after Kurt entered the room. "Did I just see Claire Beaumont leave this room?"

Rachel nodded.

Kurt peered back out the door, Rachel supposed so that he could check that it had really been the reputable dancer. He turned back to Rachel. "Am I to understand you were just in this classroom with Claire Beaumont?"

Rachel smiled at his fangirling. "I've asked her to help me with my dancing."

Kurt nodded eagerly, before he slowed and noted, "you didn't ask Brody?"

"Claire's the best, Kurt. I want to to learn from the best."

"Okay..." Kurt drawled, before he focused on why he had tracked down Rachel. "We need to talk."

"We see each other all the time at home." Rachel reminded.

"Santana's there. I figure you would rather just talk to me without Santana." Kurt sat down and leaned forward eagerly. "So? Tell me."

Rachel laughed, confused. "Tell you what, Kurt?"

"Who gave you the flowers?"

Rachel inwardly groaned. Right. Her other dilemma. Or, to be honest, the source of her Brody-related dilemma. She looked at Kurt's bright-eyed, gossip-queen-of-McKinley face, and sighed.

Kurt squealed a little, anticipating juicy gossip. He and Mercedes can speculate for hours on Skype on this. And he could gloat to Santana. Win-win.

"Hey Rachel."

They both turned to see Brody at the doorway.

He grinned at them, oblivious to the mental processes happening within the Kurt and Rachel. "Ready to go?"

Kurt wanted to kick him. Brody Weston could probably take him in a fight - easily - but he had been so close! And people wondered how he could dislike Brody.

Rachel grabbed Kurt's hand with her left hand while she hoisted her bag to her right shoulder, and pulled him towards the door. It wasn't the brave thing to do, but in this case she would happily take the opportunity not to deal with the revelation regarding Brody and explaining to Kurt where she got the roses.

She hated to admit it, but sometimes cowardice had its merits.