Part One: it's difficult to move on (when nothing was right and nothing's wrong)

It almost feels like the years have blown past.

She's better now; she's gotten help, and dealt with her issues. Now all that's left is this last glorious summer before she goes off to college.

A significant part of this summer, she's decided, is to be devoted to drinks. Not simply the consumption that was necessary for hydration, but whatever she can find; the summer heat makes everything so much more enjoyable. Even the icebox-cold grape soda (that was theoretically banned from the house because Marley's mom was on another diet) tastes especially refreshing when she takes it out to the porch to drink.

Honestly, she only likes them because of the tickle of carbonation on her tongue rather than the sugar – and the simple fact she's now in a mental place that she can consume all that sugar without wanting to throw it up later.

Then a person jogging past takes Marley's attention completely off her soda. She doesn't realize she's been staring at the familiar-yet-unfamiliar person until the jogger seems to notice Marley, and slows to a stop in front of her yard.

"... Marley?"

"Quinn. Long time no see." She cringes internally, wishing she could take the words back the instant they leave her mouth.

Quinn, thankfully, doesn't seem to notice her awkwardness. "Hi. Wow," says Quinn. She jogs up to Marley's porch. "I didn't know you live here. I've been taking this route for the last few years."

She shrugs. "We're out a lot. Work, and school. You know."

"That explains it." Quinn swipes her hand on the side of her sweatpants, grimacing. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm all sweaty and gross."

Marley grins. "It's summer. You'd be hard-pressed to find something not sweaty and gross."

"That's true." Quinn brushes her hair out of her face. "You look well. How are you doing? You're a senior, aren't you?"

"Pretty good." It seems to Marley that Quinn doesn't remember their conversation years ago; she lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Unofficially, yes? I just graduated." Belatedly, she remembers the half-empty bottle of grape soda in her hand; Marley holds it up. "Uh, I'd offer you some but I've drunk half of this already," she says sheepishly. "I can get you a fresh one, if you'd like."

"No, thank you. It's carbonated, and that's not a good idea while exercising."

"Oh." Marley feels her face flame, to a degree that she can't reasonably blame on the summer heat.

Quinn seems to sense her embarrassment, because she adds: "Maybe later? I need to shower and change, then I can come back."

"Oh, that's not – if you had other things planned…"

"I don't have anything planned." Quinn cocks her head to the side. "Well, now I do, unless you retract your offer."

Marley grins at her. "That depends. Do you like movies?"

"If you define movies as slasher flicks, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass."

She wrinkles her nose. "I guess we agree on that. I was actually thinking Perks of Being a Wallflower?"

Quinn's smile broadens. "I'll be back in an hour."

Presumably, Quinn's hour was spent efficiently and simply. Go home, shower, get dressed, drive back to her house. Quinn is cool. Quinn looks like someone who has her life together.

Meanwhile, Marley's spent approximately fifteen minutes agonizing over her decision to invite Quinn back (especially now that she's convinced she's embarrassed herself completely), another ten minutes second-guessing her choice of movie, and thirty-five minutes prepping her living room for a casual movie-watching hanging-out with a friend – acquaintance – senior – something.

The doorbell sounds just as she tweaks the sofa cushion for the eleventh time. Marley takes a deep, steadying breath and centers herself like her therapist taught her, before she goes to answer it.

"Hi again." Quinn has on a light, summery dress in pastel blue that ends mid-thigh. She sighs as she steps into the house properly and Marley closes the door behind her. "God, it's hot."

"It is." Somehow, Marley manages to control herself long enough to nod at the sofa like a normal human being. "Make yourself comfy. Can I get you that grape soda I promised? Or would you like something else?"

Quinn's lips curl into a slow smile; it makes Marley's breath catch in her lungs. She blames the humidity. "Anything is fine, as long as it's iced."

"Got it." She reaches into the icebox – to find they're out of grape soda. Marley sighs. "Uh, we're out of soda," she calls in the direction of the living room, "is lemonade okay?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Cool. Gimme a sec… the DVD's been loaded already, you can go ahead and start the movie if you want." She reaches for the jug of lemonade that her mother just made that morning (a treat for themselves for completing an order) and fills a glass, adding ice cubes. Marley briefly contemplates adding a slice of lemon to the glass.

"Here you go."

Quinn makes a happy-sounding noise. "Thanks. It looks delicious."

"We have some canapes too, if you're hungry," adds Marley, lingering next to the sofa, prepared to dive back into the kitchen should Quinn take her up on the offer.

Quinn glances up at her. "Canapes? You have good taste," she jokes.

"Yeah, well…" She isn't sure how much she can disclose; it's ridiculous to assume that Quinn is still the Head Cheerio Quinn Fabray Kitty had so gleefully described to her. Looking at Quinn's easy smile, Marley takes a leap of faith. "My mom made too much for this luncheon we catered for last night, so we get to eat the extras."

"Oh, your mom does catering as well?"

"Yeah, since school's done for the summer. No point hanging around the cafeteria." She's being completely inane, but Marley's too invested now to backpedal. She's running on pure adrenaline from channeling Woman Fierce. "I have more time to help out, too, so she can take on larger jobs."

Quinn – who looks like she lives in the rich part of town and gets a weekly allowance that's bigger than the Roses' entire income – just smiles. "That sounds amazing. I think my mom is hosting some luncheons for her Rotary Club meetings or something this summer; I'm sure she wouldn't mind ordering stuff from your mom. She hates the hassle of cooking for a party."

Marley takes out the tray from the fridge. "Well, see if you like it and we can talk business," she says, surprising even Woman Fierce with her boldness (and the little wink thrown on at the end). She may not be certain about a lot of things, but Marley always has complete faith in her mother's cooking.

Quinn reaches for the nearest canape – smoked salmon with cream cheese on a wholewheat cracker – and pops it into her mouth. As she chews, the expression on her face grows awed.

"These are incredible," she says.

Marley grins. "I'll pass your compliments to the chef." She reaches for the remote – the DVD menu screen has been looping in the background, almost forgotten – and presses Play. The screen fades to black as the movie starts; Marley settles on the couch a friendly distance from Quinn, absently popping a canape into her mouth.

"I love this movie," goes Quinn as the opening sequence plays. She reaches for another canape from the tray.

Marley releases a sigh of relief inaudibly. "I'm glad."

There's no further conversation. Quinn looks completely engrossed in the movie; Marley's torn between paying attention to the movie, and keeping an eye on the tray and Quinn's glass. A little voice in the back of her mind tells her she's reading too much into this, that she doesn't need to be on edge for someone she barely knows, much less needs to impress, but –

She pays it no mind. There will be plenty of time to deal with that later.

Quinn stretches when the ending credits start to roll.

"That was great."

"Yeah, it gets me every time."

Quinn smiles, and inclines her head at the coffee table: "I was talking about the food, too," she adds.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"More than liked. Your mom's a fantastic cook." She pulls out her phone, and her smile drops a little. "Damn. I have to go. Sorry to run out like this."

"No problem." Quinn's already standing up, making for the door; Marley darts ahead of her so she can open it. "Thanks for stopping by."

Quinn's hazel eyes glint in the late summer sun. "I had a lot of fun today. Thanks for having me over to hang out. See you around, Marley."

"Bye."

She does this little hand wave, but Quinn's already getting into her car and misses it. The smile that's been plastered to Marley's face falters, but brightens again when Quinn waves to her as she pulls out of the driveway.

Mechanically, Marley tidies up the entire living room while her mind processes the afternoon. It seems unreal, that someone she's literally only known for a day would watch a movie with her; much less Quinn Fabray. She still has trouble reconciling the girl who was eating leftover smoked salmon canapes in her living room used to order slushie attacks on fellow students.

Eventually, she decides not to read too much into it. Quinn was being polite, and had nothing better to do on a lazy summer afternoon.

Marley is supposed to be meeting Unique for lunch at the mall (her parents are away for the next few days, so she's taking full advantage of not having to be Wade) at noon. However, she's early because she had to help her mother deliver food for another party and it didn't make sense to go home and come out again. So, she's treating herself to an iced tea from the Lima Bean and a book from home, taking full advantage of the slow afternoon.

"Marley?"

She blinks. Quinn's standing in front of her. "Hey," she says, a little awkwardly.

"It's great to see you again." She nods at the table. "Um, are you waiting for someone?"

"Unique, actually – but that not for another hour. I'm just…" Marley holds up her book. "You're welcome to come sit down, if you don't mind me ignoring you. Trying to clear my backlog before I go off to college."

"God, I know, right?" Quinn nods in thanks as she sits down, pulling a book of her own out of her bag. "I'm already a college senior and there are books from my sophomore year of high school still on my reading list. Where are you heading?"

"NYU. New York University." The news is a couple months old at this point, but Marley still feels that rush of pride and giddy excitement when she says the name.

Quinn definitely looks impressed. "Wow. That is an amazing school. Congrats. What are you thinking of majoring in?"

"I've got a full scholarship to study music production at Steinhardt," explains Marley, cheeks flushing a little. Somehow, it's a little embarrassing to tell Quinn that.

"That sounds like a great opportunity."

"Thanks." Just to fill the awkward gap, Marley asks: "Where do you go?"

"Yale," says Quinn, and Marley thinks she detects a hint of the same self-consciousness she feels. "I'm double majoring in English and business."

Marley's jaw drops. It's really not fair that someone so beautiful is just as brilliant, and she says so breathlessly before she can stop herself.

Pink tinges Quinn's cheeks. "Thanks," she says. She looks a little unsettled, such that Marley changes the subject (ungracefully) and asks about the book Quinn's reading. "Is that part of your reading list? I mean – I haven't read Joyce, but that doesn't seem like the kind of book a high school sophomore would willingly read."

Quinn's laughter, decides Marley, reminds her of a brook; bright, bubbly, and clear. "I'm not like most high school sophomores," she says, "but you're right; my roommate is an English Literature major and she wouldn't stop gushing about it to me. I promised her I'd read it on my summer break."

"Ah. That sounds cool."

"Honestly? I like yours better." Quinn nods at the battered copy of Perks of Being a Wallflower on the table in front of Marley. "Swap?"

Marley laughs. Her earlier trepidation slowly gives way to a sense of ease. "I don't think I'll do any better with yours."

"It was worth a try." She fishes her purse out as well. "I need a drink. Can I get you anything else?"

"I'm good, thanks."

Marley tries to keep her eyes on the page – she does, really. But Quinn's movements are riveting. There is grace in every movement, no matter how mundane. She finally manages to look away when Quinn collects her drink from the barista and turns to come back to their table. She slips the receipt she's using as a bookmark into the book, shutting it when Quinn sits back down.

"You don't need to do that," says Quinn, looking at the closed book. "The whole point of us being out here is to read, after all. You don't have to feel obliged to make small talk."

"I don't mind." Marley blushes a little. "Uh, I meant that we haven't really talked before, and I'd love to make small talk. If you like."

She's hopeless. Open mouth, insert foot.

Quinn looks a little flushed too – maybe – but then she smiles. "You've got a point. To be honest, I was planning on going over to your house later."

"What?"

She laughs. "It's not what you're thinking! I was in such a rush to leave the other day, I completely forgot to ask for your number. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"It's really not a problem," Marley replies, completely intrigued. "What did you want my number for?"

"I told my mom that your mom does catering," says Quinn. "She got really excited; apparently, she's throwing this summer party for her friends from church, and she wants it to be a bit classier than a usual BBQ gathering."

Marley's mouth drops open. "You didn't need to… thank you."

"I might have told her for selfish reasons. I've gotten spoilt by the food in New Haven, and the classiest thing Lima has is the Asian restaurant downtown."

"You're kidding me. How can my mom's food compare to avocado wraps?" jokes Marley.

"You'd be surprised."

They smile at each other. Marley checks the time on her phone, and her heart sinks a little. "I've got to go," she says, checking her bookmark is in place and gathering up her stuff. "Unique gets antsy if I'm late."

"Sure. Have a good day."

She has to take a few more deep breaths before she can turn around to ask: "Quinn?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you… do you have anything planned for tomorrow night?"

Quinn closes her book to give Marley her full attention. "No. Why?"

"Well, I just thought… if you like my mom's cooking that much, you could come over for dinner or something. It wouldn't be any trouble, my mom's convinced there isn't anything to eat in New York, and there's always tons of food at home. She's trying out loads of recipes for easy-to-cook food too. You'd be doing us a favor, really…"

"I'd love to," interrupts Quinn gently. "What would be a good time?"

"Seven, maybe?" Marley pulls the number out of nowhere; she wasn't expecting Quinn to take her up on the offer.

"Okay. So I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. See you." Her feet take her away on autopilot. Marley still can't believe that she's doing this much. She was definitely intimidated by Quinn Fabray as a skinny, awkward freshman in high school, but she's a high school graduate now. By right, she should be older, more mature, and definitely over the hero worship.

Someone once said high school never ends. Marley thinks she might start to understand why.

It's easy to be intimidated by Quinn, really, even if she doesn't hold any real power over Marley now. She's strikingly beautiful, with a poise that commands respect and admiration in equal amounts. She's also unfailingly polite, with a charm that makes Marley fall over herself wanting to please her.

Marley laughs a little; it certainly explains the wild stories Brittany and Tina tell her about the love triangles of the senior batch. She should hang out with them sometime.

She made arrangements to meet Unique in the food court, in front of Cinnabon (she isn't overly fond of the buns herself because her mother makes the best cinnamon rolls, but Unique swears that the frosting has crack in it and that's the only reason she needs her weekly fix). By the time she gets there, she spots her best friend already seated at their usual table.

"Hey, Marl," says Unique, throwing her arms around her. "It's a bit strange that I'm earlier than you for once."

"Don't get used to it," retorts Marley, and they grin at each other. "I see you've gotten started without me," she adds, catching sight of the cinnamon bun on the plate in front of Unique, "I wasn't that late."

Unique shoots her a look. "Yes, you were." She takes a delicate bite of her bun. "I'm expecting a full explanation."

"I was just reading and lost track of time."

"Uh-huh."

"What, don't you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. I just don't believe you're telling me the full story."

Marley groans.

"Don't knock my womanly intuition," says Unique, and laughs raucously at the look on Marley's face. "Who was it? Jake? Sam?"

"What makes you think it was a guy?"

She cackles triumphantly. "I didn't. It was a lucky guess."

Marley fishes her purse out of her bag. "Can I get lunch first before we commence the interrogation?"

"You exaggerate, but fine." Unique waves her off. "Get me a chicken wrap while you're up, thanks."

"Lazy."

"You love me."

Marley laughs, and accepts the flying kiss blown her way graciously. To save her the hassle of worrying what she's going to eat, she gets herself a burrito from the same place as Unique, and returns to their table shortly. Unique doesn't pay her back; they have a standing arrangement this summer of taking turns to treat each other.

"So, spill."

"There's really nothing to spill," says Marley, taking a bite of her food. "I was talking to Quinn, and – "

"Quinn, as in Quinn Fabray?" interrupts Unique, her eyes going wide. "Senior cheerleader and bitch extraordinaire?"

"She's a lot nicer than what Kitty says."

Unique's face instantly darkens. "I don't give a shit what Kitty says."

"Unique..."

"Marley, you're the nicest person on the planet. You could give Mother Teresa a run for her money. But you can't change my opinion of that bitch because of what she did to you."

Marley sighs. "I know. I appreciate it, but..."

"No defending her, or I walk," declared Unique. "This is a safe bitching space. And I'd love a reason to walk; I just got a new pair of killer heels."

Just like that, the tension between them dissipates. "Oooh, really? From where?"

Unique smiles slowly, like a cat that's gotten the cream. "Would you believe, Anthropologie?"

"No way."

"Yes way." Unique holds up a foot so Marley can inspect the white slingback. "Half price because it was a display item, and it's a little scuffed. A touch of wax, and you can't even see it."

Marley grins. "You're so going to knock them dead at Oberlin."

"That was never in doubt, girlfriend."

It reminds her that they'll be heading off to different places in a few short months. It must have shown on her face, because Unique reaches over to pat Marley's hand. "We'll still be best friends. There's Skype and phones and email. We're not in the Middle Ages."

"Yeah."

Unique delivers a playful slap in place of a pat; Marley yelps in surprise. "Now stop trying to distract me, and get back to it. You were talking to Quinn Fabray? What did she do? Threaten to slushie you?"

"Of course not!" says Marley indignantly. "She wanted to hire my mom to cater food for her mom's party."

"Oooh, scandalous."

Marley gives her friend a shove. "You're so full of it."

"And you, little miss Rose, are stalling. So that's it? You just talked to Quinn about your mom's catering business?"

Marley glances slyly at Unique. "We also hung out at my house last week."

Unique's mouth falls open. "And when were you planning on telling me, you bitch?"

"Now! I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

"You should've texted me the instant she left your house so I could have lived vicariously through your exploits, but I'm going to be generous and forgive you," says Unique. "So, what's going on with you and the head bitch? Are you guys friends now?"

Marley takes a thoughtful bite of her food. "I... don't know. It's a bit weird that we're even talking this much, because she's three years older and has a different group of friends. It's almost like she's my older sister or something. It's a little intimidating, honestly."

"But she's been nice to you?"

"The nicest," says Marley fervently.

"Then I say go for it." Unique slurps down the last of her soda. "You'll be in different cities come September. There's plenty more people in New York, and you won't run into her until maybe next summer? Unless one of you moves out of this hellhole." She narrows her eyes abruptly. "You sure she treats you right?"

"Yeah."

The look softens. "Okay. Y'know, you could do a lot worse that having Quinn Fabray as a friend. She has her good points. Or maybe you..." Unique drops her voice, "like like her."

Marley's face instantly flames. "Unique!" she squeaks.

"It's a possibility!" Unique defends herself. "I know we don't talk about that incident –"

"We just did."

"– semantics," says Unique airily, "but as your BFF, I reserve the right to be overly invested in your personal life. Jake and Ryder were such a let-down – but still so hot – and maybe it would do you some good to be exploring that side of you. I read somewhere that NYU has a pretty active LGBT dating scene..."

She drops her face in her hands to hide her blush. "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because you love me, and you need me to bring out the diva deep inside you."

Marley stares.

"Deep, deep, inside you," amends Unique, who then throws an arm around her, squeezing briefly. "Okay, no more teasing. High school's over and done with, and this new Quinn sounds pretty nice. You don't have anything to lose hanging out with her – as long as you don't stand me up, and you tell me every little detail about her."

"Actually…"

Unique's eyes open wide again, and she gasps. "Marley Rose! There's more?"

"She's coming to my place for dinner tomorrow night."

"You move fast."

"I resent that implication."

She goes home a little earlier than usual the next day to help her mother prepare. Millie's overjoyed more by the fact that her daughter has a friend over for dinner, and less that it's a potential customer. "You rarely bring friends home," she says excitedly. The knife in her hands expertly scores the skin of a chicken thigh. "Meetin' them in school don't count."

Marley's been charged with vegetable-chopping duty. She has her eyes focused on her work, and thus her mother doesn't see the trepidation on her face.

A place like McKinley High, where popular kids throw icy drinks at less-popular kids and the teachers don't do anything to stop it, is hardly going to be kind to a kid whose mother is the lunchlady. Only some of the Glee kids have met Marley's mother, and in passing. Ryder, in particular, stopped by to help out when he was trying to get Marley's attention (that's another thing she hates; when people use her mother to get to her). He stopped when he lost interest in her.

In hindsight, she's just invited the pinnacle of the social hierarchy to the bottom. Marley wonders if it's a bad idea. She should just call Quinn and take a raincheck; or better yet, cancel altogether.

"You got your worried face on." Millie washes her hands, wiping them on her apron, and comes over to Marley. "What's eatin' you, sweetheart?"

She makes a face. Marley knows better than to lie to her mother, but it doesn't make the truth any more palatable. "I'm having second thoughts about inviting Quinn over. It's dumb, I know."

From the way her mouth twists, her mother guesses the truth. "That girl's not in high school no more," says Millie gently, in a way that lets Marley know she's been forgiven. "You wouldn't have invited her here if you di'n't trust her. Right?"

"Right."

"And I trust your intuition, Marley. I know you'd never bring someone over that you didn't think I'd be comfy with. Us Roses stick together." Her mother bumps her elbow with her own. Marley laughs. "Anythin' else botherin' you?"

"Nope."

"Good. 'Cause those veggies ain't choppin' themselves." Millie kisses her daughter's cheek, and resumes her work; after a moment, Marley does the same.

Towards seven, Marley begs off cooking duty to go shower and find the perfect outfit for dinner. She's not about to present herself to Quinn all sweaty and smelling of celery.

At seven sharp, the doorbell rings. "Marley!" yells Millie from the kitchen.

Marley clatters down the stairs, heart in her throat, and she skids to a halt right behind the door. "It's just dinner," she recites to herself. Before she can lose her nerve again, she opens the door.

Her dinner guest is wearing a pastel yellow dress, belted at the waist, a denim jacket rolled up at the elbows, and a radiant smile. "Hi," says Quinn. "I brought wine for your mom. I hope that's okay?"

"Of course!" She steps aside so Quinn can come in, and shuts the door behind her. "You didn't have to bring anything, though. It's not like this is a date, or… y'know." Marley keeps her face still as she mentally kicks herself. "You don't need to impress my mom, she loves you already."

"But I'm your guest." Quinn seems not to notice the minor mental breakdown Marley's experiencing as she walks towards the dining room, following the enticing smells wafting from the kitchen.

By the time Marley's composed herself, she finds Quinn and her mother chatting like old friends in the kitchen. It's quite clear that Quinn is attempting to help Millie set the table, something the older woman won't have from her guest of honor. "Marley!" says her mother upon catching sight of her. "'bout time you got here. Get Miss Fabray to sit down and get her somethin' to drink." With that, she turns to Quinn, all charm again. "What d'you want, dear? We have lemonade, or some milk if you'd like."

"I'd really like to help, Mrs Rose; it's only fair, after all, since you've gone to all this trouble just for dinner." She flashes that Quinn Fabray smile; Millie smiles back, seemingly utterly charmed. Quinn takes advantage of that to whisk the serving bowl of salad towards the dining table.

Marley – who's still feeling rather weak at the knees herself from that smile – recovers enough to dash after Quinn. "Seriously, it's fine," she says, tugging the serving bowl out of Quinn's hands. It helps that she's a little taller. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Do you have more of that lemonade? It was pretty good." She lets Marley sit her down with a tall glass while Marley darts back to the kitchen to help her mother. Millie's made far too much in her zeal to entertain one of the few friends Marley's brought home over the years.

Quinn makes all the appropriately impressed sounds as dish after dish is brought to the table. "Mrs Rose, this is too much."

Millie beams. "Call me Millie, honey. An' it's fine; we don't get many dinner guests. I've been waitin' for an excuse to go all out."

Quinn eats everything on her plate, much to Marley's surprise – they did make far too much. She even manages a generous slice of pineapple upside-down cake, Millie's signature dessert. The praise doesn't stop throughout dinner, and the older woman is positively pink with pleasure from all the compliments.

Marley doesn't eat that much, her stomach still fluttering with nerves. She still can't believe that she has Quinn Fabray in her house, sitting at her table and eating dinner, talking with her mom as though she's known her for years.

Millie won't hear a word of Quinn helping with the clean-up; she shoos them both out of the kitchen and upstairs to Marley's room, "to do whatever you girls usually do".

Marley's mortified, of course; only Unique's been up here before. Jake doesn't even know where she lives. Yet Quinn stands in the middle of the room, admiring the various posters and photos adorning the walls. "You're a Marina and the Diamonds fan," she says, nodding at the poster, "awesome."

"Thanks." She motions at the bed and its assortment of patchwork blankets and pillows. "You can sit if you want." For the first time, she feels self-conscious about how shabby her bed is, and blushes.

Amusement colors Quinn's face, and she sits down primly. Crossing her feet at the ankles, she leans back on her elbows. "Well?"

Marley jolts. "Huh?"

Quinn tilts her head to the side. "Aren't you gonna sit down too? It is your bed."

"Uh, I'm fine." She finds a spot to lean against her dresser, doing her best to lean against it casually.

The amusement on Quinn's face becomes tinged with mild exasperation. "Marley," says Quinn, getting up from the bed and walking over to her; the motion startles the younger girl, who stumbles a bit. "Relax. You have got to take me down from whatever pedestal you've got me on."

Marley blushes a furious scarlet. "I, uh, don't know what you mean."

Quinn rests her fingers on the back of Marley's hand. "You're fine," she says patiently. "You don't need to try so hard to impress me."

"I-I'm not…" She gets a single arched eyebrow, and deflates. "I just… you're pretty intimidating."

"Funny," says Quinn, almost conversationally, "most people stop at the pretty part." She moves to the side so she's elbow to elbow with Marley. The younger girl sneaks a glance at Quinn, who now appears to be staring intently at the ceiling.

"... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. What are you even sorry for?" replies Quinn. She doesn't look at Marley.

"I've just… I hardly know you. All I know is whatever Kitty says, and the other seniors talk about past Glee performances." She ducks her head. "I don't understand why someone like you would want to be friends with someone like me."

When the silence stretches too long, Marley chances a look at Quinn, to find her regarding her carefully. "I've learned a lot about making friends after high school," says Quinn cryptically, "like how the best people are found in the places you don't expect them to be." After a pause, she smiles suddenly. "I think you're an interesting person to get to know, Marley. Plus, your mom makes the best rosemary chicken I've ever eaten."

A surprised laugh escapes Marley before she can respond properly.

Quinn's expression sobers, and she lightly bumps Marley with her elbow; after a while, Marley bumps back. "So," she starts tentatively, "do you wanna see my books?"

"I'd love to."

Quinn lingers on the doorstep; Marley tries not to stare at the shiny black car parked on her street. It's a far cry from the ancient Ford she shares with her mother.

Quinn adjusts her grip on the large box in her hands which contains a pineapple upside-down cake – courtesy of Millie Rose – that she was commanded to take home for Judy Fabray.

"So…"

Marley leans in the doorway, trying to look casual. "So?"

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

She thinks about the book she's about to finish, and the copy of Mr Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore she's just gotten out from the library, waiting to be cracked open. "Uh, just reading."

The corners of Quinn's lips pull up in a smile. "Perfect, so am I. Want to meet at The Lima Bean tomorrow afternoon? Unless…" The smile dips a bit. "You've got other plans?"

"I can definitely make tomorrow afternoon," Marley reassures her.

She practically bounces down the stairs the next morning, excited for the afternoon. She's supposed to be helping her mother frost chocolate cupcakes for the Millers' daughter's birthday party, so that's her morning full.

"Mornin', Marl." There are pancakes on the table – her favorite breakfast food. Millie slides the last batch onto a plate and puts that in front of Marley. "You look cheerful. Big day today?"

"Not really." After a moment's hesitation, she puts a tiny bit of butter on her pancakes; Millie scowls and adds a generous dollop. "I'm just meeting Quinn at the mall later."

"That's nice. She's a really nice girl, sweetheart; I'm glad you two are friends." Millie sips her coffee. "You went to the same high school, didn't you?"

"She was a senior in my freshman year, yeah."

"She seein' anyone?"

"Mom!"

Millie shrugs. "Gorgeous young lady like that, I'll bet she spends most of her time beatin' the boys off with a stick."

"I don't know." She's only known Quinn for all of three days, including the first conversation they had, years ago – that Quinn seems to have forgotten. Truth be told, she's glad for that; whatever they are now, Marley wants to start on a blank page. She's Marley Rose, former high school senior and soon-to-be-official NYU freshman, and not Marley, the constantly nervous and perpetually hungry sophomore.

Her mother chuckles. "Well, all in good time. I hope you'll invite her over again sometime before you girls go off to college."

Marley chews on her lower lip. She's been dreading leaving for a while now. "Sure, mom."

"That's my girl. Now eat up before that gets cold. I expect you to get seconds, 'cause we've got a lot of them cupcakes to frost."

She sighs.

Marley closes Perks of Being a Wallflower with a small sigh. She loves finishing a book; the slight discombobulation of returning to her own world, the pang of regret that it's over.

Quinn looks over at her. "Good book?"

"The best." She tucks it into her backpack. The battered pages and faded cover are a testament to how beloved the book is. "How's yours going?"

"Better than expected," says Quinn. "I didn't think it was possible, but I'm starting to get Joyce."

Marley nods. She loves reading, but she doesn't think she's into literature. It sounds too highbrow. The next book comes out of her bag. She's been looking forward to reading Mr Penumbra ever since reading a few glowing reviews online; it's the main reason she reads halfway through the first chapter before noticing Quinn's amused eyes on her.

"I've been calling your name for the past five minutes. That must be pretty riveting."

Marley's cheeks color. "I've been looking forward to reading this book for a while. The local library only has one copy, and I was on the waiting list for ages." She holds up the book so Quinn can read the back of the dust jacket. Marley doesn't just hand it over to Quinn because she's itching to get back to reading; something she fervently hopes Quinn doesn't deduce.

Quinn nods. "It looks really interesting. How is it so far?"

"It's great!"

"Sounds great. I think I should add that to my list too." She pulls out her phone to make a note.

There was a party being held at Noah Puckerman's house that Saturday, and Marley had been invited.

The trouble was, she didn't want to go. She'd been acquainted with the older Puckerman via Kitty (whose other favorite topic of conversation apart from Quinn was whatever guy she was dating), and she'd had her own on-and-off relationship with Jake Puckerman. One Puckerman boy was bad enough; when both of them banded together to throw a party, the sensible response was to hunker down and wait for the whole thing to blow over.

Unfortunately, her best friend knew her too well, and Unique had come over to her house to fish her out.

"Come on, it won't be as bad as you're probably imagining right now," she tells Marley, already tossing potential outfits onto Marley's bed. "Ryder will be there; so will Tina and Sam."

She perks up – she's missing her friends already – though tries not to let Unique see. "And what does that have to do with me going to the party?"

"You need to hang out with people your own age," says Unique, and promptly gets a pillow to the face.

"Not funny."

"I wasn't joking. Here, how about this?" She holds up a simple green top with puffed sleeves that Marley vaguely remembers was an acquisition from a flea market; one of the few pieces of clothing she owns that isn't homemade or from a thrift store. "With your black skinny jeans, if you want. I hope you don't; it's sweltering."

"I'm not that prudish," Marley defends herself.

"Girl, I never said you were." Unique tosses the top at her. "No violent objections? Put it on, then I'll help you do your hair and makeup." She pulls out a compact case packed with cosmetic products; Wade gets a generous allowance which Unique spends on pretty things.

Marley pouts. It's a low blow, but it's one of the last weapons left in her arsenal, and it happens to be particularly effective on Unique. "Do I really have to go?"

Unique sighs, mascara wand poised. "Babe, it's our last summer before we all go off on our separate ways. You to the Big Apple, me to Oberlin… this is our last chance to enjoy being us."

She rubs at her elbow awkwardly. Unique, she knows, is dying to get away from her parents – even if it's only a two-hour drive out of town – because she can leave Wade at home. She'll be a long way from everyone on the East Coast in the big city. "You're right," she concedes. "I'm sorry I'm being a wet blanket."

Unique perks up immediately. "Wonderful," she says, and points at a pair of sneakers. "Wear those if you decide on denim shorts."

Marley rolls her eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

They make it out of the house in half an hour ("Have fun, girls!" shouts Millie from the couch) and into the car for the short drive to Noah Puckerman's house. The yard's already packed with Glee kids, old and new; Marley's stomach roils uneasily.

She feels Unique's hand on hers. "We'll stick with each other, okay? Get a few drinks, talk with people we know. If you're bored out of your mind by eleven, we'll bail and go back to your place for Gossip Girl and popcorn?"

Marley smiles in spite of herself. "You say the sweetest things." She gets out of the car and follows Unique into the house – the front door isn't even closed. Her friend rings the doorbell as she enters anyway.

Noah Puckerman materializes in the hallway. "Unique! Lookin' good, babe," he slurs, wearing a T-shirt – that has the slogan 'Who's Your Daddy?' printed across the chest in neon letters – cargo shorts, and his most lecherous grin. "And 'lil Marley Rose too!" he adds, placing a hand on his heart when he catches sight of her. "I should give you a special Puckasaurus-style drink for doing us a public service, Unique. This party always needs more chicks." Leering, he leans close to kiss her cheek – hands already roving.

She shrugs off Puck's hands expertly; both girls are familiar with him because he had the habit of tagging along with Kitty, and Unique's dealt with his brand of concern plenty of times. "Hi, Puck. Hands off the goods, we're too young and too good for you; and if you or Jake dare make my girl a drink, I'll scratch your balls off." She presents an elegantly manicured hand for inspection.

He winces. "Ouch, babe. Message received." Puck mimes being shot in the chest, but hands them both wine coolers and waves in the general direction of the backyard. No one's actually in the pool yet (Marley's certain they will be eventually, once they get drunk enough). They quickly spot Ryder hanging around at the fringe.

"Looking good, 'Nique," says Ryder, kissing her cheek. "Hey, Marley."

"Hey, Ry."

Apart from him, the rest of the party seems composed of people Marley vaguely knows as being from Puck's year, though she doesn't know any of them by name. Some sport shirts with Lima and Community College printed on them that tell her they're definitely able to attend because they never left town.

"Where're the others?"

Ryder jerks his head back at the house. "Jake's in there with Puck. Something about beer pong."

"Boys," says Kitty, who has suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Her hand curls around Ryder's bicep. "Hey, Ryder. Unique. Marley."

"Kitty," says Marley curtly. Unique just nods.

Ryder seems to sense the thick tension that surrounds the three girls. "So, uh, I'm just gonna go join the guys," he says, grinning and jerking his head back at the house. "Catch up with you guys later."

"Mmhmm." Kitty doesn't even look at his rapidly retreating back. Her eyes are trained on Marley.

Then Quinn walks in, and Marley blinks rapidly. "Quinn?"

Her face clouds over, then brightens with recognition. "Marley? You didn't mention you were coming."

In the background, Kitty looks positively green with envy that Marley's on such familiar terms with her idol.

"That's because I wasn't planning on it." She shoots a dirty look Unique's way, who just shrugs. "Unique dragged me out of the house."

"Quinn!" Kitty squeals. "I didn't know you'd be here!" She not-so-subtly elbows past Marley and Unique so she can be the closest to Quinn.

Quinn laughs. "That's because I was dragged out, too." She nods over to the far end of the backyard, where a group of people are clustered; Finn stands out, figuratively and literally, talking to someone who's completely hidden from Marley's point of view. "She ditched me the moment we got here."

"She?"

"Rachel."

"Oh." It occurs to Marley then that she has yet to meet Quinn's best friend – formally, of course. All she has are anecdotes and stories (half of which she hopes aren't true). But then Kitty commandeers the conversation with an accounting of how the Cheerios have performed in that past year. Marley, recognizing the start of one of Kitty's monologues, lets Unique tug her away after a nod to Quinn.

"That was close." Unique inspects her nails. "I didn't want to have to shed blood at a nice party like this. I never thought I'd say this, but thank goodness for Quinn Fabray." She holds up her drink expectantly.

Marley sighs. "I'll drink to that," she says, tapping her wine cooler to Unique's.

"I really thought she'd be different after, y'know, but seems like you really can't change a leopard's spots."

"Whatever happened with her was a mistake." Marley frowns down at her unopened bottle.

"Oh, hey, girls." Sam – grinning, beautifully oblivious Sam – comes out of nowhere to straddle the gap between the girls' chairs. "What's wrong, Marley?"

"Too much to drink," says Unique smoothly, snagging Marley's wine cooler to hand it to him. There's a glare shot her way, but Marley accepts the reprieve gracefully.

He tuts but happily accepts the drink. "Ah. Feel better." Sam rubs her shoulder.

Sam and Unique start chatting about their post-high school plans; Sam is talking enthusiastically about joining Kurt, Rachel, Santana, and Blaine in New York.

Sam is an incredibly sweet guy. She knows from him that the Glee girls of her batch are much more tight-knit than Quinn's batch – though he has no idea just how tight-knit they really are. She glances over at Kitty – still talking to Quinn, though the older girl's face is hidden from view – and decides to go find Tina.

"Sam? Do you know if Tina's here?"

"Oh, yep. She's watching the beer pong tournament inside."

"Thanks." She stands, smiles at them – and is promptly attacked by an excited Brittany. "Marley!" she squeals. "Ryder said you were here and I almost didn't believe him because he once told me that Lord Tubbington ate my English homework when I couldn't find it, but that's just silly, 'cause cats don't eat paper. Tubbs only uses paper to write math problems on." She takes a breath, and then beams at Marley. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Hi, Brittany." She squeezes back, almost as enthusiastically. Talking to Brittany is easy as long as she doesn't try to make sense of everything that Brittany says. "How are things?"

"Excellent!" she chirps. "Now you're here, we can do that Spice Girls song."

The smile slips off Marley's face. "... What."

"Like, we wanted to do it before, but you weren't there." Too late, Brittany has a vice grip on her wrist, and is dragging her further into the backyard towards the… stage?

"Sugar and Rachel pestered Puck to set one up for all the summer parties," explains Brittany nonchalantly. Tina's already there, looking torn between misery and resignation. She offers Marley a grimace.

Their impromptu opening act is greeted with raucous cheers (more so when a very tipsy Brittany forgets the choreography and just starts twerking onstage). The other Glee kids jump at the chance to stage a medley of old performances, and Marley takes the opportunity to slip away. She makes a stop in the Puckerman kitchen to grab a drink, settling for a hard lemonade (she was originally planning on a soda, but over the summer she's developed a taste for lemonade) and wanders off in search of a quiet place to enjoy her drink.

The porch out front has an old-fashioned swing seat which reminds her of the one she has at home. It would be the perfect seat – except it's already occupied. The creak of the swing is audible from inside, someone with blonde hair seated on it.

The creaking stops. "Whoever that is, if you could kindly fuck off, that would be great," says a familiar voice.

"Oh," says Marley. "I'm sorry. I'll just go, then."

"Marley?" says a familiar voice. "No, it's okay. You can stay." There's an edge to Quinn's voice that pulls Marley closer.

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" She's tenser than a wound spring, made apprehensive by the reemergence of the bitch Quinn used to be, but still determined to be there for her friend. "Do you… wanna talk about it?"

Quinn sneers. "No, I just like sitting alone in the dark while a party's going on."

"... oh."

Quinn sighs. "Sorry," she says, the sarcasm gone from her voice. "I'm working on that."

"I'll accept your apology, if you tell me what's bothering you." Even when they're barely friends, Marley gets the sense that Quinn's a work in progress, and she's still learning that not everything's out to get her.

"Puck happened."

"Puck?" Her opinion of him plummets instantly. "Did he hurt you?"

Quinn shakes her head. "God, no. Nothing like that. As though I'd be fucking stupid enough to let that asshole near me again, after… he just said some stupid things, that's all."

Marley hands her her lemonade. Quinn takes a sip, then another.

"He asked me about my friendship with Rachel. Went about it in the completely wrong way; he was pulling this protective fellow Jew bullshit, thinking I'm only nice to her for some selfish reasons, or using her to get to Beth through Shelby."

Marley doesn't know who Beth is or get what Beth has to do with Rachel, and vaguely recalls Shelby as Ms Corcoran, the Vocal Adrenaline coach. "... okay?"

"Oh. Right, you don't know. I'm sorry." Quinn takes a hard pull of the bottle, and continues: "I went off the rails a bit at the start of senior year of high school. I'd given up my baby to Shelby Corcoran – Rachel's biological mother – and I had this crazy idea that getting her back would fix everything that went wrong in my life."

She studies Quinn's side profile carefully. It's too dark on the porch to see her expression clearly, but she knows enough about her friend to note the tension in her posture, and guess that her grip on the lemonade is white-knuckled. She wonders if Quinn would appreciate being touched in this moment.

"That was then. I dropped the idea, I got out of here, went to college… then I come back, years later, and it's as though nothing's changed." Quinn sounds bitter. "He talked to me like I hadn't spent the past three years growing up and gaining a new perspective on the world outside this small town – like he still knows me. He spent all those years stuck in here."

"Puckerman boys are tools," says Marley.

Quinn laughs. "Tool is one word for it."

Marley takes a chance. She finds Quinn's knee in the gloom, squeezing briefly. "You're right; he doesn't know you. I wish he hadn't spoken to you as though he did, though."

Quinn stays silent. Eventually, Marley feels Quinn gently prying her fingers off her knee, and holding her hand. They share the companionable silence, trading the lemonade between their free hands until it's empty.

Eventually, Quinn asks in a throaty voice: "Sorry. For just unloading like that. Were you enjoying the party?"

"Not really. Parties aren't really my thing." She'd always thrown up right before she performed any solos onstage, to the point Kitty sarcastically dubbed them her own pre-show ritual. Her nervousness was a major factor in her decision to study music production, so she'd still be involved in music, albeit behind the scenes.

In her mind, she's always equated parties to performing onstage; too many people, too much pretending to be something she's not.

"Me neither," replies Quinn. The lemonade bottle, now empty, gets put down on the wood deck. "I had to go to all the big ones, of course, but for the sake of keeping up appearances."

She nods. She's never been popular, but she understands.

"Thanks for listening. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find Rachel. No offense."

"None taken. Of course." She feels Quinn squeeze her hand, then let go. Marley stays on the swing, rocking it with the ball of her foot against the deck, listening to the sounds of the party. It's far too dark to read, but it doesn't stop Marley from wishing she'd brought a book. She can picture herself being out here on a hot summer afternoon with a good book and a pitcher of her mom's homemade fruit punch.

Her phone trills, ruining the image. Marley answers because it's Unique. "Hey Marl, where're you?"

"Out front. Why?"

"Checkin' on you. It's eleven. Do you wanna bail?" Even through the noise of the party, Marley can still hear the hopeful tone to her best friend's voice.

"Nah. I'm good. Go have fun, sweetie. I've only had one hard lemonade so far, I'm good to drive later."

"You're the best." Unique makes kissy noises over the line. "Come here so I can kiss you."

"Give me five."

With one last smacking kiss, Unique hangs up. Sighing, Marley tucks her phone back into her pocket and tips her head back against the bench. From the sound of it, the party's in full swing, and she'll need to be careful when she makes her way into the throng.

She enters the house, bottle in her hand (the empty one from earlier). Since she's agreed to drive, Marley isn't going to be drinking any more, so she fills the empty lemonade bottle with tap water; thus armed, Marley's ready. Pounding music makes her eardrums throb. She tries not to wince.

The living room furniture's been pushed to the corners of the room so there's a makeshift dance floor. She spots Kitty and Jake somewhere in the mass of bodies, but no Unique, so she moves on. Outside, there are drunk people in the pool, as predicted. A shirtless Ryder (surprisingly) is among them.

Finally, she spots her best friend in the corner of the backyard near the stage, with Sugar and Tina. "You made it!" beams Unique, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "How was the jungle?"

Marley gives her a side-eye glance. "No comment," she says, then squeals when Unique plants a messy kiss on her cheek. Her best friend musses up her hair before she can squirm free. "'Nique!" she protests, laughing.

"You love me."

"Reconsidering it."

Marley wakes up bright and early the next morning, despite the late hour which she finally got to bed. Unique's still snoring faintly beside her (she was already pushing her luck yesterday by leaving the house as Unique, so there's no way she can go home like that) which means she's on breakfast duty.

It's early enough that her mother isn't downstairs yet. Marley gets the coffee machine started, and fishes ingredients out of the fridge. The meats are first; bacon and ham sizzling in the pan as she puts together the dry ingredients for pancakes.

"Mornin', sweetheart." Millie appears in her worn-out dressing gown.

"Morning, Mom." She kisses Millie's cheek, and hands her a mug of black coffee.

"There's my good girl," says Millie, pleased. "Did you have a good time last night, sweetie? What time did y'girls get home?"

"Alright, I guess." She tips the meats onto three plates, and cracks a few eggs in; Marley sets another pan on the stove for her pancakes. "We just played Twister and watched DVDs. Unique and I came home around midnight." For all that Marley hates lying to her mother, she's learned that half-truths are better than brutal honesty; there was a game going on when a very drunk Puck had pulled the board out of his closet, and Top Gun played on loop, unwatched. She'd talked Unique out of body shots, and got them home just before one in the morning.

"Sounds fun. Nothin' else happened? Were there any cute boys there?"

"I guess? Jake and Ryder were there? I don't like either of them that anymore though," Marley adds hastily. She adds a golden-brown pancake to the platter.

"Shame. No one new catch your eye, sweetie?"

"Nope."

Millie chuckles. "Maybe that's a blessin' in disguise," she says, "seein' that you'll be out of this small town in a couple of months." And even though she's still smiling, Marley sees that smile dim a little; there's a lump in her own throat.

It's always been just the two of them for as long as she can remember. Marley knows the separation will be toughest on her mother – between classes and new friends, she won't even have time to miss home – when she's alone in the house. She's still excited for New York, of course, and Millie's practically bursting with pride; but it's hard. She puts an arm around her mother's shoulders, her head pressed to the top of Millie's.

Unique chooses that moment to come shuffling into the kitchen, barely stifling a yawn. "Just in time!" says Millie, overly bright. She breaks away from Marley, eyes shiny. "How many pancakes do you want, dear?"

They're out for ice cream because Quinn had a craving and Marley didn't have anything better to do, so they're sprawled in Quinn's car, the seats reclined nearly all the way. Quinn's place is deserted at this hour, the A/C is on full blast and so is the radio; Marley thinks this is what summer memories are made of.

"Rachel's going back to New York tomorrow."

"So soon?" It's only July, and Marley herself isn't due to travel there until the middle of August; she figures two weeks is enough time to move into her dorm, find a job, and get ready for college.

"She signed up for a summer workshop. Something about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with some of the stage's greatest luminaries." The phrasing is verbose, very unlike Quinn, so she guesses she's relating Rachel's words verbatim. "Who are we to stand in the way of stardom?"

Marley giggles.

"And you? When are you headed to the Big Apple?" Quinn sucks a stray dribble of ice cream off a knuckle.

"Mid-August," she replies. Her ice cream suddenly feels leaden in her stomach.

"Not long now."

"Nope."

Quinn finishes her ice cream and fishes in the glove compartment for a napkin. "Excited? Rachel and Kurt were practically frothing at the mouth when they were applying for NYADA."

"Yeah, definitely, but…" Marley pauses to think. "Scared too. It's the first time I'll be away from home, and my mom. I mean, I know most people worry about being on their own at college, but I'm okay with that." She snags a napkin. "It's inevitable, but that doesn't make it any easier."

Quinn nods. "I know what you mean."

"It's just been the two of us as far as I can remember, moving wherever she got a job. It's gonna be weird being on my own in a new city."

"Mmm." She tucks her trash in the side compartment of the car before turning her head in Marley's direction. "Yeah. It was just me and my mom for a while before I left for college. Frannie – my older sister – was Daddy's little girl, so she hardly ever talked to us." Quinn snorts. "I was never close to her, growing up. She's got this perfect life in Minnesota now, with her perfect husband and the dream house with its white picket fence."

"Oh." Honestly, she can't tell if Frannie is a sore point with Quinn or not. She's an only child of a single mom, and sibling relationships have always fascinated her; Sam and his kid brother and sister, Brittany and her sister. There's a genuine affection veneered over with hate.

Quinn sighs. "I didn't get along with my mom until recently. I guess I couldn't forgive my mom for her part in kicking me out. She just… she stood there, and watched my father set the timer on the microwave for me to pack my things and get out," she mimics hefting a bag over her shoulder, "and took me back after she'd kicked him out for cheating. Then it was like we were strangers co-existing in the same house."

"What changed?"

Her friend starts, and chuffs a laugh. "God, I need a cigarette for this," she says, "or a drink. It was… I nearly died in a car wreck."

Although she's had time to digest this, it still catches in Marley's throat.

"The doctors said it was touch and go for a while," continues Quinn nonchalantly, "but in the end I was fine. I had to be in a wheelchair for a while but rehab was successful. I danced at Nationals that same year."

"Oh my god." She feels a warm hand on hers, and blinks, looking up into Quinn's eyes.

"... I'm sorry." Quinn squeezes her hand. "I try and get it all out quick so I don't dwell on it too long. It is a bit much."

Marley tries to sound casual. "I'll say." She smiles quickly, in what she hopes is as reassuring as possible. "You went through a lot."

"Mmmhmm. The stuff of teenage drama." Her tone is incredibly dry.

Then a thought flits into Marley's mind. "Wait. You said Rachel's leaving tomorrow? You're not – you're hanging out with me."

Quinn laughs. "You don't have to put it that way. Also, it's not like New Haven and New York are so far away. Rachel and I have a yearly tradition of buying each other Metro passes so we can keep in touch. We have plenty of opportunities to see each other."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," Quinn gently mocks. "You'll be in New York soon as well, Little Miss NYU."

"Yeah." Her stomach feels a little uneasy at the thought.

"We'll all be in the same area – I'm in New York fairly often. Maybe we could meet up to sit in some nondescript coffee place to read and complain about life," says Quinn, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Marley considers it. She weighs the coursework and her inevitable student part-time job against all the stories she's heard about college life. "That would… that'll be nice."