Quinn wakes up to the sound of her stomach gurgling. She isn't really sure why until she smells the air.
It's the last day of her junior year, and someone is ... making pancakes?
The light from the window is dim for an almost-summer day, but it's enough to look around her room. She can see her suitcase from the trip, still at the foot of her bed, and her alarm clock is just about to go off. She considers just waiting it out, lying in bed and counting down until that annoying beep repeats itself over and over. But she has to get out of bed sometime, and that food actually smells edible, so. She stretches her legs out, and pulls herself up to a new day.
That quiet buzz that keeps vibrating through her is already starting when sleepiness shakes itself off. She stares out the window at the sky and tries to breathe through it. It doesn't work.
Today is going to be a good day. She decides. Tomorrow is tomorrow. But today, I'm going to be happy. (If she says it enough, maybe she'll believe it.)
She hears a voice echoing through the house. "Honey! I'm making breakfast, it'll be done after you take your shower."
How her mother always knows when she wakes up, she'll never know. But that's good. Breakfast with Mom. That's something happy Quinn would do.
"Okay, Mom." She half-yells back. It's still so weird for her to be allowed to yell in this house. For so long, everyone walked around with a complete shield up and only talked when they absolutely had to. Back then, Mom would have just quietly knocked on the door and poked her head in to check in. The idea that her mother would ever yell out would be the craziest thing in the world to Quinn freshman year. (She wonders how long this new Mom will last.)
Before getting out of bed, she leans over and grabs her iPod. She has a few albums that she's listening to exclusively right now, but she's not really in the mood for Bon Iver or the Violent Femmes. She scrolls through some of her new stuff and sees Bloc Party's A Weekend in the City and almost smiles, before queueing up "Song For Clay". It's just enough drum and guitar to get herself psyched up to get through her morning routine.
And so, she gets up. And in between the spins and the circles and taking steps to the beat, she temporarily puts on her frames and grabs her things for the day. It's pretty standard stuff, except for when she dries off after her shower. Quinn grabs a fresh towel, for the smell. It's a small thing, but... she needs it. Today is the last day she'll be seeing anyone besides her mom for a while, and she needs all the extra boost of strength she can get. And if that means getting a clean towel for the smell or dancing in her room, then so be it.
The idea of going to see everyone at that school, in that club, Sam? She needs to be on her A-game. She is going into that room with a smile that she means at least fifty percent, even if it means pretending the entire weekend didn't happen. The one thing she has going for her is that everyone at that school is just as determined to have the last day be somewhat pleasant, even if it means being completely deluded. But she has to be happy. For at least one more day.
She can hear her mom walking around the kitchen when she's finally ready and halfway down the stairs. The food smells better the closer she gets, but it also puts her on edge. Her mother's idea of cooking ever since she hit puberty was an apple and the idea of a juice cleanse. Just thinking about it makes her eyes drift down and scan her curves for any imperfections. She swallows.
Quinn Fabray must be happy today. Even if it means avoiding breakfast with Mom.
(The air smells... delicious, but not worth the risk.)
She manages to slip out the front door without even saying goodbye.
Honestly, she has no idea why school even happens today. It's a Monday, and all of the finals were taken last week and grades were submitted then too.
But the option of staying home is nonexistent, especially when her mother is waiting to... it's not an option. So she goes to her classes. First, English. Then History. Now, AP Chem. Quinn sits down at her table while Mr. Paolini sets up the outdated television to watch a movie with the class. It's a VCR and he's known for actually showing movies relevant to the class subject, so she's not too optimistic about whatever it is he plans on letting them watch.
A few minutes later, and Santana is slipping into the seat next to her with some sort of doll.
"Do you think this voodoo doll looks enough like Sir Mixs-A-Lot to work?"
Where does she get her insults from, Wikipedia random search?
"Who?"
Santana sighs. "Berry, obviously. Who else?" She points to the heinous plaid skirt the doll is sporting.
"You're psychotic."
"You'd know, wouldn't you?"
If someone could remove the stick out of Santana's ass, it'd be much appreciated. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Santana grins. "I mean, you'd know more than anyone how Berry Bonds likes to mess with people's heads, wouldn't you?"
"Just... shut up." She half-whispers as the teacher switches the lights off. She smiles as menacingly as possible, and it gives her a Cheerios flashback.
"Fine, fine." Santana surrenders, and puts her hands up in the air. "Whatever. She's harmless mostly, especially when she has that tacky chain around her neck."
Quinn doesn't take the bait.
"Please, like you haven't noticed Finnocence hiding away in the library right now. How much do you wanna bet that they're going to be bumping uglies and branding her with some ridiculous cliche of a necklace before the month is over?"
Okay, that's it. "Look, I'm not in the mood, okay?" It's supposed to be a good day, dammit. She glares at Santana, her body enveloping that Captain attitude for a brief moment to suit her needs. "So either stop talking and leave? Or go get laid. Really, I don't care which; but this in-between where you act like a total bitch to me for no reason is getting predictable."
Santana rolls her eyes. "There's plenty of reason. It's fun, there's one." She puts her forefinger up to count. "And two, it's none of your business who I do or don't let into my chamber of secrets. Unless you're offering?" She practically whispers it, and her eyes dart around because paranoia, but the idea of messing with Quinn's head was probably too tempting and worth the risk.
"In your dreams."
"In yours."
"More like my nightmares."
Santana grins, and her eyes scan Quinn up and down. "Wanky." Quinn glares at her, and she relents. "If you insist." She looks back in front of the class, and Quinn sighs in relief as the movie starts. She has no idea what the movie is about, but she doesn't care.
They're silent for the rest of the hour. (If you ignore the fact that Santana is staring at her for a good ten minutes after that conversation.)
Her phone buzzes for the third time that day, just before lunch, and she ignores it. She already knows who it is. (Mom can wait.)
The cafeteria is practically buzzing with excitement. It's only two hours until the end of the day. She never really got the excitement most years. Lima was just as boring when school wasn't in session as it is when it is. The only thing that makes it bearable is when it manages to be hot enough to go to the community pool. That, and the cool ACed movie complex. Other than that? Same as usual.
But she is balancing this strange in between right now. Part of her wants this day to end, because days at McKinley High feel like a lifetime. But she knows what happens when she leaves, and where she's going. So, it's hard to get excited for anything.
(She wasn't excited in New York, either. Maybe she's just hard to please.)
The line for school lunch isn't that bad, so she takes her place and walks through with the rest of her class. She grabs what she needs, and then pays a ridiculous amount of money for food that definitely doesn't cost that much in the real world.
Her eyes glance over to two tables. One, surrounded by Cheerios and athletes and the rich kids from her block. She can still see the head girl spot that she took, the best one in the room. Now, some other blonde-haired Cheerio takes the spot. She's nowhere near the kind of power level that Quinn managed to achieve, but it doesn't matter. Someone had to slip into the power vaccuum, and now-
The second table. Rachel, frowning into her vegan lunch because Finn is nowhere to be found. Mercedes and Kurt, gossiping about the people around them when Tina looks on with a quiet smile and Mike next to her, talking to the other guys. And the empty seat - right in between Sam and Rachel.
She swallows, and her stomach (heart?) gives a sharp pain that feels like it's reaching up her esophagus and through her throat.
She runs to the closest trash can and dry heaves.
And already, she can feel the eyes and the whispers and-
She eats lunch hidden away in a hallway alcove. It's easier this way.
The day is almost over, and all she can think about is her mother. It's not consistent, it flits through her thoughts little by little until she's consumed by it. Only then does she completely throw out any thought of this morning and concentrate on whatever unimportant class game her teacher throws at her.
The grades for the year have already been submitted, so no one is even listening to the teacher really in other other classes. (Thankfully, her last class's teacher cares almost as little as they do, so everyone is just doing whatever they want). Some of the students didn't even bother to show up in their own class. Students are floating in between rooms and leaving and coming as they please.
(She'd do the same, but sticking to her schedule is keeping her sane right now.
She still has fleeting thoughts where she comes home and all of her things are in the front lawn.)
Quinn needs a distraction, and now. But she doesn't recognize anyone in this last class, and she's not walking up to a stranger just because she's-
"Excuse me, Mrs. Larson, have you seen Finn Hudson? I... I have a message for him from the office."
Rachel always did have interesting timing. "Rachel."
The teacher looks back down, invested more in her crossword puzzle than whatever anyone in class asks her. Rachel finally notices Quinn, and eyes slightly wary, she walks over to the girl's desk. She's wearing a pink dress with a white sweater, and her hair is curled in a way that's-
"You look nice. Your clothes and everything."
"Um, what?" Rachel's nose scrunches in confusion, before she shakes her head to clear it and continues. "Have you- have you seen- I mean, this might be extremely inappropriate to ask you given our relationship-yours and mine, I mean, and yours and-the entire dynamic really-"
"Finn's in the library."
Rachel stops. "Oh. Right... of course." She turns away and almost starts to walk out, but turns back around again. "I didn't see you at lunch. Are you ..."
"I'm fine." She bites out with a smile. Quinn wipes her mouth without even thinking about it.
"No, I don't think you are."
She stiffens. "It's really none of your business."
Rachel takes a step closer, and sits in one of the empty desks next to her. "If we're doing the business thing, I can always chalk it up to being Glee captain, but that's not really important, is it? I just..."
"Just because I complimented you doesn't mean something's wrong with me. If it makes you leave, I'll take it back."
"Don't be silly." Rachel presses her dress skirt down, which makes no sense whatsoever as it's completely fine,"I'm just concerned."
"Well, don't be. Just... go to the library and give Finn a pep talk or whatever. You're a lot better at him like this than I use- just go." She already said too much. Rachel had a way of dragging things out of her, sentences that needed to be stopped before they were finished. It's true though. Rachel could handle a sulky Finn a lot better than she could. Her tolerance level for him was practically nonexistent. Probably because Rachel cared more than she did. Or maybe just because she was used to giving pep talks to herself after Quinn systematically ruined her reputation.
For some reason, she gets the sudden thought that maybe Rachel will stay, talk to her. Give her a pep talk. But that's... that's ridiculous. And wrong. Rachel stands back up. "Fine. But... you're wrong about me and Finn. I'm not... it's not what you think."
Quinn smiles grimly. "Rachel? It's always what I think." She doesn't let herself think too hard about how true that is. "Just..." Just don't get back with him. Just work on your dreams like you always said you would, so at least something in my life stays constant. Just stop getting weak like I am. She makes herself smile. "Just do the right thing." Not that it matters. Since when does Rachel ever listen to her advice? Or listen to her at all? It always seems to be the other way around, doesn't it?
The brunette frowns, and leaves just as quickly as she came just before the final bell rings.
She has about five minutes before the Glee club starts, and nothing to do to kill the time. There's no way she wants to go into the choir room any earlier than she has to, but she doesn't exactly have enough time to actually do anything. Maybe this extra time was meant to talk more with Rachel, but she left.
Quinn has no idea why she just tried to be the bigger person, but she has a feeling the emotional "maturity" will disappear the second she leaves campus.
Everyone in the hall around her is being predictably teenager about the whole day, now. It makes her feel... old. All she can do is briskly walk past girls hugging in tears and guys throwing all of their school assignments in the trash with a vicious sort of happiness. She's almost at her locker to do something similar when she sees two familiar faces leaning against them. At first, she thinks that Santana's waiting for her. She still has that stupid voodoo doll in her hands. But then she remembers that Brittany's her locker neighbor and why would she even think for a second it would be anything else? Those two... no. Be happy. She closes her eyes in the middle of the dense hallway, and spreads her face wide. She doesn't think about her mom or Rachel or anyone else. She finds her bearing, and then opens her eyes.
"Well... what about you and I?"
She stays back, and watches them. Santana looks so nervous, but Brittany is smiling at her and saying words of love so loud she can hear it from here. And not from her voice, although she probably is. From the movements of her hands, and the way they wrap around each other and sink into comfort. Santana's face looks so heartbroken, but hopefully Santana will realize what everyone else who matters already has soon enough.
(Sometimes, she's so jealous of the potential happiness they're hoarding it makes her hate them. But her heart also feels fit to burst.)
They looks so comfortable together. The only thing keeping them apart is this place, and that'll stop being such a loud problem in less than an hour. Her heart pangs at the sight of them holding each other like life rafts. She hopes that Lima doesn't ruin them. Happiness doesn't... it's not a guarantee, and she doesn't want them to waste the time they have left together before something inevitably pulls them apart. She waits anxiously for some sort of sign, and it's enough to see them link pinkies and walk to the choir room down the hall.
Quinn smiles a little more honestly at that. Her stuff can wait. She follows them hopefully.
Almost everyone is already in the choir room. Even Mr. Schue is sitting in the corner at the piano with Brad, writing something down.
She walks towards the corner of the room, near Sam and Puck. Sam's eyes are steadfast in ignoring her like they've been in any classes they shared today, and Puck is the same because. Well.
"We're waiting for Rachel and Finn. They should be here soon." Puck finally answers her unsaid question.
Oh. Right. Of course.
"Thanks." She replies. "... hey, Sam."
He nods at her absentmindedly, and Puck rolls his eyes and turns around to talk to Lauren behind them.
"Sam? I'm... I'm sor-"
She can't help but reach her arm out, and he takes a familiar step back to distance himself. "Don't, Quinn. Don't lie, okay? Just... it's -let's just forget about it."
So that's how it feels. She doesn't like it so much on this end either. "I'm not lying." She is sorry. Knowing why she did it and knowing she probably would do the same thing over again doesn't change the fact that she doesn't like the idea of Sam hurt.
He finally looks at her, and his sad smile looks so familiar that for a second she almost feels- "Sure."
Finally, she hears a noise behind her and sees Finn and Rachel walk in, hand in hand. Smiles. Time to shake it off.
She plays hostess perfectly, waving them in with a smile. You'd never know that today was nothing she wanted.
She's been lying on her back in silence for about an hour when she hears a knock on the door.
"Quinn, could you come downstairs? Dinner is ready."
... crap. She had been too busy all day trying to not think about anything that would make her ruin her good mood and now it was coming back to bite her at the worst time. Quinn looks up and sees her mother standing there, arms slightly crossed with an indecipherable look on her face. Is she mad? She balances the line so well, and Quinn could never really get a good hold on her mom's facial expressions.
"Brittany invited me over for dinner, I'm leaving in a few minutes. There's a Glee club meeting after." It's a bold-face lie, a horrible one, but one she hopes works.
"Too bad. Tell her you'll come over after. That Glee club had you all weekend, they can wait."
She had to try. "Okay."
A few minutes later, and she's cautiously walking into the dining room. It's just as imposing as it always is, but - wait. The lights are dimmed, and the fancy table cloth has been replaced by something warm and - is that actual food? With carbs? The sight of pasta makes her mouth water, the only thing she had to eat all day was that apple she got from the cafeteria for breakfast and school lunch which doesn't scream satisfying. But her mother's idea of a full meal is a salad and a Chardonnay.
Something's up.
"Sit, sit."
Something's definitely up.
But the food looks good and she doesn't actually have plans after this. So, she sits down hesitantly. Thankfully, the table's extending middle had been taken out when it became a two-person house so she wasn't on the complete other side of the room. But still. This isn't normal. Not even slightly.
They quietly say grace, hands clasped together, and then Quinn looks up. She's not in the mood for whatever this is.
Her mother starts to eat but, after a second, she puts it down - waiting, it seems, for her. Quinn sighs, and starts eating too.
The silence is almost deafening. No noise is being made except for the sound of silverware on plates, and the sound of Quinn's nails anxiously hitting the table.
She makes it about two minutes.
"So?"
Mrs. Fabray chuts lightly. "Don't talk with food in your mouth, I shouldn't have to remind you."
She frowns slightly and swallows her bite before continuing. "So..."
"So what, dear? " Her mother replies. "Are you enjoying your food? I found the recipe on the internet. I made some adjustments, but I think it's interesting."
She ignores the question. "What's..."
"What's what?"
Up? "Did you need to talk to me about something?" The dinner, the avoiding talking about what happened this morning. That fake smile.
Mrs. Fabray puts her utensils down, and looks at her daughter. A shiver goes up Quinn's spine, because why? Why did she actually ask her? She could have just gone through the entire meal in silence and slipped out before her mother had even noticed what was happening. Again. Now, she was actually being looked at and she doesn't have any idea what she's supposed to do next. Neither one of them knows how to handle a Fabray who says what they're thinking. It's all about moves and counter moves. Insinuations and bargaining. Ignoring and avoiding. Or, when push comes to shove, lying with such a convincing smile it's easy to pretend.
But no. Because last night's note was the third time this month that her mom wasn't home without an explanation, and if ... she would rather know then be surprised if one day she walks home and he is sitting on the couch like no time has passed. That's why she let herself press for more. Because she can't handle the alternative.
"Just say it. Don't bribe me with food and ... I'm not-" I'm not him.
Her hands start to shake until her mother reaches over and holds them lightly. "Okay. Okay." She clears her throat. "I wanted to do this a different way, but this is a hard conversation and I-" She frowns. "This isn't something I should be having to tell you, but after everything that happened last year-"
Oh. Her face flushes, and it clicks. Of course. She didn't even think of what would happen to her when-
"Just say it. Stop- you're choosing finally, aren't you? You're... you're choosing him?"
That buzzing noise in her heart finally eases, and she knows what she's been waiting for. All along, it's been this. How ridiculously naive.
Her mother's hand clenches around her fork, and that familiar gesture is what she keeps her eyes on when she tries to maintain composure.
"Quinn- let me talk, please. I have to explain myself, I don't think you're understa-"
No, she understood perfectly. All she does is understand. "You don't have to say anything else." How long had she been waiting to tell her this? Quinn had been avoided for weeks. Were they seeing each other when she was in New York? When she was being broken up with in a funeral home parking lot? When she fell apart for the hundredth time in a McKinley High bathroom? "It's... just give me a second." She just needed one second, to get her breathing back under control. Damn, she'd been doing so good but here were the tears again. Weak.
Her mother replied, "Quinn, I don't underst- oh, honey. Honey, no."
Her face looks so confused that Quinn almost believes it. But then she remembers that she made the exact same face when she pretended that she didn't know all along that Quinn was pregnant and alone and scared. Weeks of watching her mother's eyes trace her flat abs like she was expecting it to pop out at any moment. That her daughter who finally was worth something was all along just as much of a failure as both of her parents always thought.
She was lying then, and she's lying now.
"I have to-I have to go. I... I can't be here when he is." She hadn't seen him in a year, not counting the dreams, and she has no idea what she would say if she saw him before she wrapped her head around it. Would she cry? Yell? She would be lucky if he didn't kick her out agai-
She stands up abruptly. She thought she was ready for this, she had been trying to mentally prepare herself for weeks, but it was different imagining it and-
The sharp edges of the table almost cut into her hands when she jerks up, putting all of her body weight on them to stay standing. She can't resist, and looks up at her mother who's just sitting there in silence. Folding in her herself. Like she used to do with him.
"I'm going to Brittany's." She doesn't deserve even that much, but ... well, it's the only friend she can think of right now that has the space and also would be able to tell with some degree of accuracy that now wasn't the time to play therapist with the school case.
It doesn't feel nearly as satisfying as she thought it would when she slams the door in her mother's face the way Sam did her's last night.
Here's the next chapter! I don't know how long I'll be able to keep up this updating time speed, but I'm just going to roll with it in the meantime. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and the other people who didn't review but did check the story out. :)