Chapter Four
As expected - and requested - Quinn is the first student to arrive back at Dalton Academy after the long summer months. She usually arrives earlier than the others in her own year, anyway, her flight landing early and her drive to the campus made quickly and in private.
Of course, though, after the flight she just had, she's a little groggy and a bit snappy. She texts Tori, Martha and her mother that she's arrived when the car pulls up in front of the large main building of Dalton and the driver brings it to a stop. Quinn waits another five minutes as he climbs out, unloads her luggage and carries her items into the front courtyard.
When he opens the back door for her, she dutifully climbs out, carrying her own backpack. As expected, she made the trip in her school uniform, representing her school in all the best ways. She looks fresh and clean and determined.
It's something her Headmaster notices the moment he greets his new Head Student in the reception area of his office. Admittedly, he was a bit worried after seeing the almost meek response to her appointment at the end of the previous semester, but the girl who strides forward with her hand outstretched is an entirely different person.
Quinn greets Mr Schuester and his secretary, Ms Regina Gold, before she follows the man into his office. She suffers momentary panic when he gently closes the door, but she manages to keep it off her face.
She's fine.
William Schuester is a good man.
She hasn't met many.
"I'm sure you'd like to go up to your room and get settled in, so I'll make this quick," he says, inviting her to sit as he walks around his desk and settles into his own chair. "We just have a few things to discuss before the prefects' orientation tonight."
Quinn merely nods, absently opening her Moleskine notebook and dating the first empty page. Her handwriting is neat in the corner, and she even draws a tiny bee beneath it.
"The orientation won't take too long," he explains. "It's merely a formality, really, and Miss Pillsbury will be running it. But, before we get to that, there are a few difficult decisions to make."
She gives him her full attention.
"First, though, I would just like to congratulate you again," he says, smiling warmly. "I believe the school has chosen wisely, Miss Fabray. I have always held you in high regard, and I look forward to a smooth year."
Quinn licks her lips slowly, doing her best not to react to the words. Her first response is panic, but she manages to stamp it down. It's okay. She's okay. "Thank you, Sir, and I hope I don't disappoint in that regard."
He gives her one last, closed-lipped smile before he gets down to business. They quickly discuss the upcoming evening, the next day's expected freshman orientation and the arrival of the rest of the students the same evening. It's all a little overwhelming, but Quinn takes notes and breathes a sigh of relief when Mr Schuester slides a detailed programme across his desk.
"As you know, the elected prefects will officially begin their tenure tomorrow morning when the new students and their parents arrive," Mr Schuester says. "But, as I'm sure you also know, the complement of prefects is not full."
Quinn nods her understanding. She's known this for a while. Her election has seen to that and, if the Deputy Head Students are to come out of the pool of prefects like she did; the group would be down three of them.
That's less than ideal, given that the prefects are responsible for policing almost four hundred students. She doesn't yet know if the Deputies would come from that group, though, because Mr Schuester has given her no indication that it would even be required.
The Deputies are usually decided the moment the Head Student is.
"We are, however, afforded a truly unusual position, Miss Fabray," he says. "The demotion of Mr Adams requires an extra position be filled."
Quinn nods once more. She failed to remember that, which she doesn't think is the worst thing. Zero time spent thinking about Azimio Adams is time well spent.
"The prefects are your responsibility," he says. "You are, essentially, their keeper, which means that it's important you learn to work with the students at your disposal. I understand there has been some... strife in the halls."
Quinn raises her eyebrows in question.
"Miss Lopez is a prefect," he says calmly, and Quinn is forced to acknowledge what she's tried so hard to forget. Right. Of course.
"I can assure you, Sir, there won't be any trouble."
Even if Mr Schuester doesn't believe her, she seems to believe herself, so he lets it drop. "Duties, of course, will be assigned this evening, and you'll have to ensure everyone is happy and working."
Quinn can't help thinking that's quite a tall order when she can't even ensure she's happy, but she still jots it down. She can at least try.
It wouldn't hurt, would it?
When they get to discussing the vacant positions, Quinn tenses. "Traditionally, the runners-up to the election form the two Deputies," Mr Schuester explains, unnecessarily reminding her of what she's witnessed in the years she's been here. "Without Mr Adams, that would leave only Miss Berry to act as your Deputy."
Quinn almost chuckles to herself because, if the roles were reversed, she would positively hate that. She imagines Rachel Berry won't be a fan of it either.
"As for the second Deputy, the board and I discussed it, and we feel it will be unnecessary to hold another election. If needs be, we can appoint one from the pool of prefects if the work becomes too much for the two of you."
Quinn just nods.
"As Miss Berry was not initially elected as a prefect, it still leaves us with two empty spots to fill," he says. "Based on the votes accumulated, I've drawn up a list of potential names."
Quinn isn't surprised by the list. They seem to match the students who are on the edge of popularity in this extremely strange school, and it doesn't take them all that long to finalise the list.
"I'll pass this along to Miss Pillsbury for this evening," he says. "These students won't be arriving until tomorrow evening, though, so you're going to have to get by without them until then."
Quinn nods, a question on the tip of her tongue.
"Miss Berry was informed of her position," Mr Schuester says, as if he can read her mind. "She is expected to arrive with the rest of the prefects on this evening's Bus."
Quinn isn't sure what to do with her feelings on that particular piece of information, or even that Mr Schuester decided it was something she wanted to know at all. She's a little irritated with herself for being so transparent.
"Should I be expecting problems there as well?" he finds himself asking.
Quinn can't help her chuckle. "Oh, plenty."
"I thought as much."
"And you actually said yes?" Santana asks, incredulous.
Rachel is unfazed by her reaction. The Latina has been in a constant state of shock and disbelief ever since Rachel stepped onto the bus chartered to take the returning prefects to Dalton from the city. She even screamed what are you doing here?, which was embarrassing for both of them.
"Why would you say yes?" Santana questions, scratching the spot between her eyebrows with her forefinger.
Rachel rolls her eyes. "When your Headmaster personally calls you in the middle of your summer vacation, you usually do what he asks," she says casually. "I couldn't say no, Santana. It's a prestigious position."
Santana shakes her head. "You do know you have to work closely with Quinn, right?"
Rachel meets her gaze. "Is there something wrong with Quinn?"
"Oh, there are a lot of things wrong with Quinn," she says sarcastically. "The two of you are never going to get along, you realise that, right?"
"Why do you say that?"
Santana just chuckles dryly, leaning back in her seat. "This is definitely going to be an interesting year."
There's an undeniable buzz in the air as the prefects shuffle into the large boardroom, each of them with their own notebook and pen. It's doubtful they'll need them, though, because each seat at the table has a leadership training booklet, bottle of water, a Dalton Academy writing pad and a pen.
"I feel so special," Santana quips to Rachel as they enter behind a group of girls, all of whom the Latina does not like. At all.
"Because they're giving you stationery?"
"It has the school's coat of arms on it," she argues, pouting slightly. "It's special, and so am I."
"Keep telling yourself that," Rachel drawls, as she makes her way towards the head of the table. The Deputy's seat is beside Quinn's, though she's still not sure why, when all they're doing is learning how to... lead.
Anyway.
Santana sits in the chair beside her, and immediately starts looking through the programme. Rachel sits perfectly still, suddenly feeling nervous. She hasn't seen Quinn since the last day of school and, as much as she's tried not to think about the blonde over the summer, she has. It helps that she's not yet here, but Rachel is getting more anxious as the seconds tick by.
She's unsure which Quinn Fabray she's going to meet today, and she desperately hopes it's not the one from the Great Hall. That one was haunted by something, and Rachel doesn't want that for her.
It's five minutes later, exactly on time, that Quinn and Miss Emma Pillsbury walk into the boardroom, engaged in what looks to be an important conversation. Rachel's eyes are immediately drawn to the blonde, studying her face and body for anything. In all honesty, Rachel isn't sure what to expect, but this isn't it.
Quinn looks... tense, sure, but there's an obvious confident air about her that wasn't there the last time they spoke. It's as if she's come to accept the role she's supposed to play, and she's going to do it well. It's a relief to Rachel, of course, but there's a part of her that's still unsettled by it. Which is the real Quinn? Is either one even who the blonde truly is?
A certain hush falls over the room as Quinn and Miss Pillsbury move towards the head of the table, both of them saying polite hellos to the accumulated prefects. Rachel even gets a tight-lipped smile, which is bucketloads better than the indifference Santana receives. Rachel knows Santana acts as if it doesn't hurt her, but even Rachel can feel the chill.
When Quinn takes her seat beside Rachel, and left to Miss Pillsbury at the head of the table, she produces a notebook from somewhere. Rachel can't help staring at the printed front, engraved as it is in sea turtles and flowers that resemble gardenias. It's obviously a custom Moleskine, and Rachel wonders what other things she's going to learn about this girl during their tenure.
"All right then," Miss Pillsbury says, getting their attention. "Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Leadership Training 2011/2012." She offers them a beaming smile, and Santana scoffs at Rachel's side. "Today's programme will consist of five sessions, with a break for refreshments after the first two," she explains. "We're mainly going to deal with what leadership is, the role of teamwork, what is expected of you and your duties." She claps her hands once. "So, let's begin! Tell me, what does leadership mean to you?"
Quinn tries to pay attention. She truly does.
It's just that Rachel is sitting right beside her, her spine straight and her focus solely on Miss Pillsbury. Quinn has the almost unstoppable urge to lean into the girl and ask about her summer. She curbs that desire, squashing it down in a way she's become very good at, and forces herself to look at the redheaded teacher with the tiny voice.
Quinn, admittedly, feels a little awkward. She almost feels like a fraud, sitting up here and being looked to. She's supposed to lead these leaders, and it's terrifying.
"Be authentic," Miss Pillsbury says. "Know yourself."
Quinn scribbles down a few words in the training booklet, wondering from where she's going to manufacture the trust in herself to pull this off.
"You are the image of this school," Miss Pillsbury goes on. "Set the standard, be the example and be aware of your influence. I understand it's a lot of pressure to put on seventeen-year-olds, but I have great faith in your abilities. Stand by your own choices, and be accountable. This is a great honour, so embrace it."
Quinn is hearing the words but she's sure they aren't registering. People have said a lot of things to her in the past, and look where she is now. It doesn't feel as if anything has changed... on the inside and on the outside.
She's still alone.
When they move onto the second session - this time with an emphasis on teamwork - Santana is about ready to claw out her own eyes. She keeps sighing, and Rachel keeps having to pinch her thigh to stop her from making a spectacle of them both.
Though, even she has to admit this is all a little redundant. Nobody needs to be told: 'TEAMWORK is THE ESSENCE of LIFE.' Particularly not anyone in this room because, honestly, Santana isn't the only one who's dying of boredom.
Only Quinn seems to be taking diligent notes and, because she's curious, Rachel glances over to look at the open page of the blonde's notebook. She expects to see lines and lines of notes, but she comes across something else entirely. It takes Rachel a moment to register that Quinn is, in fact, drawing. It's not a doodle, but rather a detailed, near-perfect picture of the New York skyline.
Rachel sucks in a breath, surprised and awed.
Quinn flinches at the sound and glances to her left, but Rachel's gaze has dropped to her lap. She wrings her fingers together until she can no longer feel Quinn's gaze on her, and then looks back up at the blonde, her eyes roving over her strong profile.
This girl continually surprises her.
She's also insanely talented, if Rachel knows anything. Quinn seems to be drawing the picture from memory, which is just insane. Nobody should be able to get that much detail. Rachel could probably be looking straight at the real skyline and still not see what Quinn is depicting. Rachel desperately wants to ask her about it and, when Miss Pillsbury finally calls for their break, the words are already out of her mouth.
"I didn't know you could draw."
Quinn visibly tenses and turns her head to look at the brunette. "I think you'll find there are a lot of things you don't know about me, Berry."
Rachel swallows audibly, suddenly feeling as if she's four years old. "It's very good," she says.
Quinn falters slightly, her eyes softening. "Thank you," she says softly. Then: "you should probably get some tea and sandwiches. It looks as if Santana is waiting for you."
Before Rachel can respond, Quinn has risen to her feet and disappeared out of the boardroom. Rachel wonders which Quinn she's going to encounter when she returns. It's barely been an hour, and she's already exhausted.
Santana grumbles as she studies the table on the page before her. "I think, right now, I'm a begrudging follower," she says, eyeing the column of 'TYPE OF TEAMMATE.'
"I'd have to agree," Rachel quips, grinning at her friend.
"Well, excuse me, Miss 'Team Achiever.'"
Rachel giggles. "Oh, don't get snippy," she teases. "At least you're not a non-follower."
"The night is still young, Berry."
"You're going to be challenged in many different ways," Miss Pillsbury says, and Quinn is convinced the woman must love the sound of her own voice. "It's all about how you approach them. You attitude is very important."
Okay.
Quinn is inclined to agree with that. It's just, well, sometimes your attitude can't be helped. If you've been burned enough times, you kind of develop a knee-jerk response.
Quinn would know. It's the reason she's halfway across the state, right now, away from the lives her parents and Tori are determined to live.
A life she doesn't want for herself.
A life at all.
When they discuss the prefects' Mission Statement, Quinn doesn't look at anyone. They'll be saying the words in front of the entire school and their own parents during the induction service this coming Friday, and Quinn just knows she won't have any support in attendance. Her parents wouldn't dare make the trip, Tori is... away, and Martha is a dinosaur.
Quinn wouldn't want any of them there anyway.
"Are your parents coming to this thing?" Rachel whispers to Santana.
"Yeah, yours?"
Rachel presses her lips together. "I haven't yet decided."
If it's a cryptic response, Santana doesn't mention it. She's good at that. She's been keeping secrets about parents for a very long time.
"And, now, to the part I'm sure you've all been waiting for," Miss Pillsbury says, smiling knowingly. She's thoroughly undeterred by the lack lustre response she receives. She's had to deal with nearly everything in her years here, working as Head Counsellor and Head of Student Affairs. "We're going to discuss your class assignments and portfolios."
Rachel does perk up at the sound of that.
"All but the Head Students will be assigned a class, which will be your responsibility," the teacher explains. "You'll have to visit their homeroom at least once a week, direct them to the chapel, act as a liaison to your fellow prefects and keep them informed," she explains.
While she does that, Rachel studies Quinn again. The drawing has been abandoned in favour of the leadership training booklet, where she's taking note of which prefects are being assigned to which grades. There's a slight crease in her brow, and Rachel has to pinch herself to stop herself from reaching out to smooth it away with the pad of her thumb.
"Now, for the portfolios," Miss Pillsbury says. "These will, fortunately, be decided amongst yourselves. Some of them will require more than one prefect, and those have been noted in the table." She slowly rises to her feet. "As far as my role in tonight's proceedings goes, this is where I bid you goodnight. Quinn will take over now to discuss the portfolios and inform you on what is happening tomorrow."
Quinn, dutifully, does wait for the teacher to leave before she addresses them. She doesn't stand or move to the head of the table, which Rachel appreciates even if she has to strain her neck to face the blonde.
"I don't think it would be fair to make decisions on portfolios without having the final two prefects here," Quinn says, which receives a collective nod. "If there is a specific portfolio you're interested in, just drop me an email and I'll make note of it." She removes a printed sheet of paper from the back of her notebook. "If you could all just fill in this table while we proceed, that would be great."
Rachel receives the paper first, and automatically smiles at what Quinn is asking for: phone number, date of birth and favourite colour. She quickly fills it in and passes it on to Santana before returning her attention to the speaking blonde.
"As is tradition, the freshmen will be arriving with their parents at ten o'clock tomorrow morning," she explains. "We'll be responsible for ushering them into the Great Hall for the welcome and information session. After that, the parents will be invited to enjoy refreshments in the main courtyard, and we'll take the children on group tours around the school grounds. I've printed out maps and routes for that, each group ending in a different classroom with two prefects. It's then that we'll have the opportunity answer any of their questions, attempt to alleviate their worries and try to make them feel welcome and less uneasy and nervous about their first day of school.
"The entire thing should be over by one o'clock," she says. "We'll return the children to their parents for the final goodbye, and then help them get situated in their rooms. Miss Pillsbury and I anticipate quite a few tears."
There are a few chuckles, and Quinn smiles lightly.
"I'm sure you all remember what it was like that first night," she adds, sobering slightly. "I just need you to be on hand to offer encouraging words and, perhaps, a shoulder to cry on. Let's not forget the added chaos we're going to have to endure when the buses with the other students start rolling in at four o'clock." She runs a hand over her hair, which Santana knows is one of her nervous ticks.
Quinn doesn't have many, but the ones she does are extremely telling.
"I've drawn up the necessary schedules to deal with their arrival." At this, she hands out a sheet of paper to each of them. "We know the drill," she says. "Get them inside the Great Hall to fetch their room assignments, and then send them on their way. Caretaker Henry is going to handle getting the luggage into the front courtyard for inspection, and then it's our job to make sure everyone can find his or her pieces. I'm sure nobody wants another Sylvester incident."
There's another round of chuckling, and Rachel turns confused eyes on Santana.
"I'll tell you later," the Latina assures her.
Quinn clears her throat, her gaze lowered to the pages on the table in front of her. "This is all new to all of us," she says, almost timidly. "I can't make any promises that it's all going to be smooth sailing, but I can promise I'm going to try my level best to keep it that way. This is a thank you in advance for putting your trust in me, and I'll work hard not to let you down." Her voice drops off at the end, and she frowns slightly before dutifully schooling her features. "I think that's all for tonight. We'll meet in the foyer of the Great Hall tomorrow at nine-thirty. Thank you. Have a good night."
When Quinn gets to her feet, the other prefects begin to pack up their own things.
"Remember," Quinn adds as the first group of students is leaving. "Breakfast is at eight o'clock in the dining hall."
Rachel almost rolls her eyes. As if they don't already know. Food is important to the students of Dalton Academy, she's quickly come to learn. It's almost synonymous.
"Let's get out of here," Santana says, and Rachel is all too willing to follow.
But a voice stops them both. "Berry?"
Rachel turns to look at Quinn expectantly.
"Rachel, I mean," she says, somewhat sheepishly. "Do you think we could have a quick talk?"
Quinn is aware she hasn't spoken in exactly two minutes and fifteen seconds. Rather, she's staring hard at the cover of her notebook on the table, her eyes practically boring holes into the print.
Rachel shifts slightly, and Quinn catches the movement, forcing her to sigh.
"I want this to work," Quinn finally says.
If Rachel's surprised by her words, she doesn't show it.
"I can't even begin to imagine what this must be like for you," she says. "I think I would have told Mr Schuester no, if I were you."
"I considered it," Rachel confesses, which elicits a tiny smile from Quinn.
"Normally, there would be a second Deputy," she explains; "but I think we're both a little relieved Adams is no longer a prefect."
Rachel visibly shudders.
"Look, I'm - I'm not the easiest person to get along with," Quinn says, cringing slightly. If that isn't an understatement, then she doesn't know what is. "I'm willing to try if you are, because I want this to work." She needs this to work because, truly, she doesn't need the added stress to what is already looking to be a stressful year.
"I want this to work too, Quinn."
She breathes out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear."
Rachel smiles warmly. "It's good to see that you are, in fact, fine."
For a moment, Quinn frowns in confusion, before she remembers and actually blushes. "Oh. Right. Well, I'm sorry about that," she says. "It seems you caught me at a vulnerable moment."
"I wouldn't call it that."
"What would you call it?"
Rachel hums in thought for a moment before meeting Quinn's gaze. "I would call it a real moment." And, with that, she spins and leaves the boardroom, leaving Quinn to her own thoughts.
Vulnerable and real as they are.
"What did Quinn want?" Santana asks as soon as she spots Rachel emerge from one of the elevators on the fourth floor. "I don't see any scratches, so the claws stayed hidden, then."
Rachel scowls slightly, feeling oddly defensive of Quinn. "She just wanted to talk," she explains; "make sure we're on the same page about this whole thing?"
"Which is?"
"We want this to work."
"And, do you?"
Rachel skips a step. "What kind of question is that?"
"I mean, it wouldn't be the first coup to happen at Dalton."
Rachel gasps in surprise. "Oh my God, Santana!" she hisses; "this isn't some 'keep your friends close and enemies closer' thing." She shakes her head. "And, plus, Quinn and I aren't enemies."
"Are you sure about that?"
Rachel comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor, turning to face the Latina. "Just because you left her; doesn't mean the rest of us are going to," she says coldly, realising that she has to put a stop to this immediately. "Whatever happened between you two, that's whatever, but I won't have you twisting my intentions to fit some narrative that paints either Quinn or myself in a bad light. Do I make myself clear?"
Santana just stares at her for a long moment, her jaw slack.
"Do I?" Rachel presses.
"Crystal."
"Good," she says with a slight bounce. "Goodnight, Santana." And, with that, she spins once more and makes the short walk to her bedroom. As a senior, she now has her own bedroom, which is one of the two Deputy rooms located opposite the Head Student's room, which she's loathe to acknowledge has its own bathroom. It's the one perk she was almost desperate for but now she, once again, has to share four toilet cubicles and six showers with twenty other girls.
Between arriving at Dalton, getting her luggage up to her room and making it in time for the prefects' meeting; Rachel hasn't had much time to get settled in. Santana did help her make her bed - which was always going to be her number one priority - so she's not too stressed. She suspects it'll take some time to get everything unpacked and in their rightful places.
Rachel does scrimmage through her one suitcase for her pyjamas. After the long day of travelling, she thinks a shower is in order. It's her first night back at Dalton and, as daunting as it feels, she's glad she's here and not back in... Wallingford.
Really, if she had it her way, she would probably move her entire family out of that place. Well, in her dreams, she would, because she never would take them up on their offer. It matters very little now. What happened, happened, and Rachel has only one more year before she's off to college.
She can hold out for that long.
With the change in environment, Quinn makes sure to take the two necessary hits of her purple asthma pump before she crawls into bed. It's been a long day of travel and practiced control. She's exhausted, but sleep doesn't come easily. She twists and turns and, when her alarm eventually goes off at six o'clock, she's already awake.
Muttering under her breath, Quinn rolls out of bed and changes into her running gear. She's back at school now, which changes very little about her morning routine. Going for a run every day is one way to ensure she doesn't commit a murder.
Or, something else.
It's still dark when Quinn exits the building, a neon green hoodie on over her running top. There's a chill in the air, but she ignores it and does her stretches. When she's ready, she starts out with a jog to warm up, and gradually speeds up.
The run helps clear her head but, by the time she arrives back on the fourth floor, it's as if nothing has changed. She's feeling anxious and flighty, and maybe a lot of apprehension.
It also doesn't help that she sees Santana coming out what she knows is Rachel's bedroom. The two of them barely look at each other, which is fine, Quinn supposes. It's weird, though, because the Latina was supposed to be one of the ones who understood. Quinn realises, now, that people who stay in her life are usually paid.
But, when she thinks of Tori, she throws that theory out the window.
Nobody stays.
Breakfast is a small affair. With only the prefects in attendance, the meal goes quickly. Rachel and Santana sit together, the Latina constantly fiddling with her tie. Rachel is staring at her phone, noting the WhatsApp notification that she's been added to the group 'Prefects 2011/2012' by, well, Quinn Fabray.
Rachel didn't have her number saved in her phone until this morning and, for some reason, it feels so heavy.
"Leave it," Rachel reprimands Santana gently, swatting at her hand. "And, really, how you've gone all this time without learning to do your own tie is beyond me."
Santana rolls her eyes. "I just don't take out the knot," she explains; "but my uniform was thoroughly washed when I was home. And plus, uh, Quinn usually does it for me."
Rachel merely hums in understanding, her eyes drifting to said blonde, who's seated at another table, beside a boy named Kurt Hummel. They seem to be having a conversation about something Quinn looks truly interested in, and it's a look Rachel hasn't seen before. It's a good look on her.
Rachel clears her throat. "You're just lucky I was awake," she says. "What were you doing up so early, anyway?"
Santana isn't sure how to answer that. How does she explain to her fellow brunette that waking up early to make sure Quinn gets back from her daily run is something she's been doing at Dalton since she first learned there's a darker reason for the blonde's fondness of exercise?
"Habit," the Latina comments instead.
"How...? We were just on vacation!"
"I think I overcompensated," she says, shrugging noncommittally.
Rachel perks up. "Were you... excited?" she asks teasingly.
"Sure," Santana says, rolling her eyes. "We'll go with that."
In terms of the success and failure of Quinn's first official foray into being Head Student, she does rather well. Her detailed schedules help, and the rest of the prefects are eager to please on their first day as well.
For the tour, Quinn is paired with Kurt Hummel, who she finds is probably the only person in the world who is actively fighting against the barriers of their school uniforms. The world would definitely get a shock if ever he were given free reign to design any part of their school uniform.
It does help that he's knowledgable about all things Dalton related. She learns he's been a member of the Student Representative Committee, and she takes note of it for when they inevitably meet up on Friday to discuss their respective portfolios.
Across campus, Rachel continually has to reel in Santana Lopez because the Latina is determined to frighten the incoming freshmen with tales of haunted classrooms and teachers to avoid.
"Oh, that reminds me," Rachel says once they're leading the students back towards the courtyard to meet their parents. "You never did tell me that story about... Sylvester."
"Do you know her?" Santana asks, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the miscreants are following.
"She teaches Biology, right?"
"Scariest woman I've ever met," she says, nodding her head. "She hates when students leave their bags in the corridors, citing that it's a fire hazard, so she has a real conniption when suitcases and trunks get left out overnight. She's so crazy, Berry, she actually moves them into the teachers' lounge, so you can't get them without asking her. Sometimes, she makes you write a request letter, or even agree to sign up for Litter Duty for weeks just to get your belongings back."
"Damn."
"She's a bitch, really," she says; "which is why she's Quinn's favourite teacher."
Rachel can't stop herself from laughing at that, even though she knows she shouldn't. "Who's your favourite teacher?"
"Mullan," she answers immediately. "Physics."
"I always forget you're a gigantic nerd."
Santana rolls her eyes. "I like Physics."
"Mmhmm," Rachel hums, skipping slightly. "Gigantic nerd."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Stop trying to steal another brownie."
Santana pouts. "But they taste so good."
"I don't doubt that," Rachel says; "but you've already had four and you're going to end up spoiling your lunch."
"Whatever, Mom."
Rachel chuckles. "You really are the baby of your family, aren't you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Rachel casually rolls a shoulder. "Nothing."
"I'm on to you, Berry."
"Congratulations on a successful day," Mr Schuester says to Quinn as the two of them wave off the last of the incoming parents. "It ran smoothly, and the parents were all complimentary."
"Thank you, Sir," Quinn says, turning her body to face him. "I suspect we'll have some teething to endure but they're a good group."
"Indeed."
Quinn waits a beat before stepping back. "I should probably go and make sure the freshers are settling in all right."
He nods once, stepping back as well. "Oh, Quinn?"
"Sir?"
"Delegate," he says.
She frowns for a moment, and then nods in understanding. "Of course."
"If I have to tell one more person that, yes, they have to share a bathroom, I'm going to eat my own hair," Santana complains as she strides through Rachel's open door. "How can this be so surprising for them? It's a boarding school, not a fucking hotel."
Rachel glances up from the book she's reading. "Someone's in a mood," she says casually. "What time is Britt getting here?"
Santana's eyes snap towards her. "My mood has nothing to do with Brittany," she says hotly.
"That isn't an answer to the question I asked," Rachel says, returning her eyes to her book and resisting the urge to smile. Gosh, a flustered Santana Lopez is all kinds of hilarious.
"She's on Bus Nine, so that's around five o'clock," Santana finally says, moving to sit on the edge of Rachel's bed. "It's - I'm - " she halts, unsure what she's trying to say. "I haven't seen her all summer," she finally gets out. "What if - what if everything has changed? Or, nothing at all?"
Deciding to give her friend her full attention, Rachel closes her book and sets it aside. "Has she given you any indication that something would have changed?"
Santana sighs. "I don't know," she confesses. "It's Brittany, so how can I know?"
"It's going to be okay, you know?" she says. "It is Brittany, so of course it's going to be okay. You'll see her and everything will make sense and, before you know it, you'll be married with seven children."
Santana's eyes widen, even as she chokes on her laughter. "Seven, huh?"
"Maybe six," she concedes. "Seven seems a bit much."
"Do you want a big family?"
Rachel presses her lips together. "Definitely more than one," she eventually says. "It can get lonely."
Santana frowns. "I thought you had brothers."
"I do."
"I'm so confused."
"Wait until Britt gets here, and I promise you all the love songs in the world will start making sense once more."
Quinn's eyes are trained on the clipboard in her hands when she feels a presence on her right side. Frowning slightly, she looks up at the intruder to find Rachel looking out at the Great Hall with keen interest.
"I like the setup," the brunette says, barely looking at Quinn. "It seems to be getting them through the registration process rather quickly."
Quinn merely hums in acknowledgment.
"I suppose it also helps that the buses arrive in staggered waves," she says. "I imagine the Caretakers are happy with that."
"It's been mentioned a few times, yes."
Rachel turns to look at her, their eyes meeting. "Is there a reason we all get searched for contraband?"
The corners of Quinn's lips tilt upwards. "Oh, I don't think there's enough time in the world to tell all those stories," she says, a teasing lilt to her tone that catches them both off guard. Quinn clears her throat. "We're a high school in America. It's practically a part of the Constitution to strip search us."
"Who said anything about stripping?"
Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Who didn't?"
For the longest time, the two of them just stare at each other. Quinn can't be sure what all this is, and Rachel is equally as lost. Though, she reasons she would rather take this awkwardness than actually butting heads.
"I don't know if we'll manage to get them all signed in by the time dinner starts," a voice says, interrupting them, and Quinn turns towards Kurt as he approaches the pair.
"Hmm?"
"Is it just me or are there way more students this year?" he asks, sounding half-serious.
"It's just you," Quinn says, smiling slightly.
"They all look like little ants," Kurt says as the three of them stand on the raised balcony of the Hall. "Look at them go."
Quinn shakes her head, and Rachel giggles. It's the sound that draws Quinn's attention, and the two of them exchange another long look. There are so many silent words being exchanged because neither of them know them enough to voice them.
It's weird, Quinn thinks.
This entire thing is just weird.
"What do you know about Kurt Hummel?" Rachel finds herself asking Santana later at dinner. The excitement from seeing Brittany has worn off for Rachel, but Santana can't keep her eyes off the blonde, who is sitting next to Artie Abrams at the end of the table and discussing God knows what.
Santana drags her eyes away. "What?"
"Kurt Hummel," she says. "Is he... nice?"
Santana raises her eyebrows. "Why are we talking about Lady Hummel?"
"Lady Hummel?"
She sighs, her own eyes drifting across the dining hall to where Quinn and Kurt are, once again, sitting together. She frowns slightly because, yeah, that's an unlikely combination. "I don't know him very well," Santana finally says; "but I do know he's gay."
"Is that why you call him 'Lady Hummel?'" Rachel asks, trying and failing to keep the distaste out of her voice.
"Everybody does," Santana weakly defends.
"I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't," she says.
Santana looks at her face, noting the setting of her jaw and the harshness in her eyes. "Okay," she says, choosing not to fight this battle. There's something painfully severe in Rachel's gaze, and she's reminded again that there's so much about this little diva she doesn't know. "But... why are you asking about him?"
Rachel presses her lips together for a moment. "He - he won't hurt her, will he?"
She almost laughs out loud, but she's able to stop it when she hears the sincere concern in Rachel's voice. "No," she says seriously. "He won't hurt her."
"Good," Rachel says, absently turning her attention back to her still-untouched food. "She just seems as if she's been hurt enough."
It doesn't occur to her that she doesn't know the half of it.
Quinn Fabray: Congratulations on a job well done today! Thank you all for your hard work and patience - Mr Schuester was pleased with our performance. Remember, we're meeting during lunch on Friday in the boardroom. I'll send another message to remind you closer to the time. Keep thinking about the portfolios you want to be a part of and read through the Mission Statement a few more times before Friday's induction. Good luck for the first day back! Xx
Rachel reads the message three times, feeling a certain warmth spread across her chest. It isn't even a message to her, but to the prefect group, and she still feels a little giddy.
Gosh, she's pathetic.
A few of the other prefects start to reply to Quinn's message but Rachel isn't sure what to say.
Thank you?
You did wonderfully on your first day too?
Nothing seems right, and she's still debating the right words when there's a knock on her bedroom door.
"Come in," she calls out, still frowning at her phone.
The door opens to reveal Quinn Fabray, casually dressed in her pyjamas of blood red silk pants and a loose-fitting Snow Patrol t-shirt. She stands awkwardly in the doorway, before she slips fully inside and closes the door. She doesn't come any closer.
Rachel just stares at her. It isn't as if she hasn't seen Quinn in her sleepwear before, but she's never had it up close and in her bedroom. Rachel automatically straightens, recovering from her shock. "Quinn, hey."
Quinn leans against the door, her hands on the doorknob behind her. "Hey," she says.
"Is everything okay?"
It's a loaded question, and she doesn't comment when Quinn doesn't actually answer it. "Thank you for all your help today," she says instead. "It's not going to be easy being the only Deputy, but I think we can make it work."
"Definitely."
"Mr Schuester mentioned that I should delegate more, which is what I intend to do," she explains, unmoving from her position against the door. It's almost as if she doesn't want to get any closer. "I just worry I might delegate too much or get so far in my head that I won't see what I'm doing."
Rachel isn't sure where she's going with this, but she waits patiently.
"Which is where you come in," she says. "I - I need a favour from you."
Anything, her mind screams, but her voice says, "Sure."
"Do you think you'd be able to keep me in line?" she asks, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "Just, you know, put me in my place if I overload people or get unusually catty and snippy. It's been known to happen." She shrugs. "Before, it - it was Santana, but that's..." she trails off. "I would have asked Kurt, but he's a little soft for this kind of thing, and I think it would be strange to have someone who's not my Deputy challenging me in front of the other prefects. So, would you be able to do that for me?"
Rachel swallows audibly as she slowly rises to her feet, her phone abandoned.
"It'd really be in everyone's interest," Quinn adds, starting to ramble. "I mean, I can get a little intense sometimes, and it's all fine and dandy for just me, but now I'm supposed to be - "
"Okay," she says, cutting into Quinn's painfully adorable rant.
Quinn's eyes widen. "Okay?"
"Okay. I'll do it."
"Oh," she sounds. "That's - uh - awesome. Thank you."
"Sure."
They stand in silence for a long minute before Quinn relaxes slightly. Her gaze moves away from Rachel's face to take in the room before her. She's never been inside, and she's slightly overwhelmed by it.
"That's a lot of posters," she comments, oddly intrigued as she pushes off the door and steps further into the room. "Are you a fan of Broadway?"
Rachel watches her carefully, tracking her movement towards the wall of posters, playbills, cards and photographs. "I am, yes."
"I assume you've seen shows, then?"
"I'm a little bit obsessed, actually."
Quinn glances at her over her shoulder. "Is it a dream of yours?"
"Partly."
Quinn's brow furrows but she doesn't question her on the cryptic response. "I saw Wicked in London," she says, pointing at one of the playbills. "And The Addams' Family in New York. I don't know if that show's anything special, but I was quite young and I may or may not have fallen asleep."
Rachel giggles softly, and Quinn looks at her once more.
"My parents are fans of the opera," Quinn explains. "I suppose I am too, though the... fanciness of actually going can be off-putting."
"Does that mean you're in New York often?"
"Not recently."
"Oh."
Quinn smiles to herself, and begins her retreat. "I should let you get some sleep," she says softly. "Big day tomorrow and all."
"Yeah."
"Goodnight, Rachel."
"Goodnight, Quinn."
And then she's gone, and Rachel isn't any closer to wording her response to Quinn's initial text.