Title: Catalyst
Author: neveraworsename
Rating: M
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Summary: Quinn tried not to feel hurt, because after all it was her own fault. She couldn't have it all, not even both of them; the boyfriend and the girl with the stunning smile that had gotten her pregnant. G!Peen, AU S1, Quinn-centric
Disclaimer: Glee is the sole property of Fox, Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuck. I am using them for entertainment purposes and do not have any rights to them.
Chapter 5 –
Quinn shouldn't have been hungry, but ate her fill and then some of pancakes and bacon, mostly to avoid Santana's eyes. Santana had been looking at her suspiciously ever since she'd shaken her head when she first looked at her. Mrs. Pierce made sure they were well-situated before going downstairs, snagging something that looked suspiciously like a bong as she went. Brittany and her little sister and brother, Friedrich and Hare respectively, ate most of what she didn't. Santana picked at her single pancake and shoved at her hash browns, eating about half. Santana had always been a small eater but it was becoming more apparent that she was actively avoiding eating. Coach Sylvester did have them weighed every three days but a pancake wouldn't kill her.
"S'no' good?" Friedrich asked Santana, most of her eggs in her mouth. Missing her two front teeth from falling off the jungle gym last week, she had a pronounced lisp, even without the food. Her big blue eyes were very innocent so Santana shook her head and ate another bite. Satisfied, the seven-year-old turned back to her meal, although it was mostly swiped clean. The eleven-year-old boy's however, was practically flooded with syrup. He seemed to delight in pretending to drown his food, complete with sound effects before eating it. Brittany was almost as bad, talking to it in high-pitched voices.
After breakfast, Brittany normally took Hare to his peewee baseball practice and Friedrich to her soccer practice before going for a run. In order for her to stay on Cheerios and motocross, she took her siblings everywhere they needed since putting her in the kitchen or the laundry room to do other chores was a disaster waiting to happen. Today, Quinn rode with them home. Her car still wasn't there, so she let herself in. She changed into pajamas and then took the little plastic bag out. She untied it, laid the plastic strips on her desk, and stared. Less than fifty dollars, and her whole life was ruined. Finn's life, too; she hadn't even thought about him, not since she'd first done the deed and when Google told her she was pregnant.
She closed her eyes and said, softly, under her breath, "Shit." They'd had chances of getting out, and now they were ruined. No one had a baby in Lima and got out, not unless they were shipped off somewhere, to another little town, or had a shotgun wedding to someone in the military. Even when you gave the baby up, it followed you, branding you with stretch marks and an empty heart, destined to live and die in Lima.
School was less than productive, after the revelation. She just kept thinking about the little embryo inside her. It hadn't ruined her, that wasn't its fault that she wasn't smart enough to not be drunk around a bunch of guys, mainly Puck. Quinn touched her stomach, sometimes, but there wasn't much to feel. That didn't stop her dreams, though.
The first one was that Saturday. She'd gone to sleep early, after prayers. She appeared in her room, but she knew she was asleep, so she didn't panic, just moved to the bathroom, letting the dream do as it would. Quinn pulled her shirt off and looked down at her abs, hard and defined. Slowly, so slowly, the lines disappeared and her stomach began to distend into this huge balloon before the rest of her did as well. She was floating, head bumping against the ceiling.
She floated along, seemingly invisible, through the walls and out onto the street. She had just started to recognize the neighborhood when she appeared inside of Rachel's bedroom. The brunette was asleep, clinging to a knitted blanket, black with bright gold and icy blue stars in the fabric. There was something weird about her though, that Quinn couldn't define. Her mouth was a little plump, her lashes looked paler. She kept looking, just with her eyes, and just when she'd thought she'd found it, in the junction of her thighs, hidden by flannel pajamas, she was suddenly awake again, staring at the ceiling.
Still, at least during school, she could keep busy. With all honors classes, her homework load was ridiculous. Luckily, Finn was struggling in his normal classes and two honors leaving Quinn alone for the most part. He only really noticed when someone pointed out that they hadn't been seen together in a while. She was just starting to wish she'd picked someone slightly more observant before the party, but now she was fine with it. She'd end up ruining his life soon enough.
Everything seemed fine until Mr. Schuester decided to replace Mr. Ryerson. Mr. Ryerson being fired was perfectly fine; the guy was creepy and a real pervert, not just gay like Mr. Fieldson, who was cool. Somehow, Mr. Schuester had talked Finn into going into it and everyone was calling him gay.
Then it turned out he wasn't being gay, just an idiot. The worst part was that Finn didn't wait until they were alone to be idiotic; he'd had to do it in front of the entire school. The song itself was hilarious and funny, really well choreographed, but he was seductively dancing with Rachel. Anyone else and she might have forgiven it, made him grovel for a while then let it go. But not Rachel; never Rachel.
She had to infiltrate them and keep them away from each other. It wouldn't do for her to be pregnant and for her boyfriend to cheat on her. Luckily, Ms. Sylvester came through for her. Well, not her, exactly, closer to keeping the Cheerios from being usurped but it was a positive affect for her.
She, Brittany and Santana joined the Glee club. The main thing they had to do was break them up and crush Rachel Berry's spirit. Personally, Quinn didn't think that was possible. None of the frozen drinks or names or drawings or rumors had bothered Rachel at all and she doubted taking a few of her solos here and there would affect her either.
The thing was that no one had predicted just how damn awkward it would be. The Glee club was united by chaos. They fought, bickered, and did much more talking than singing. Even the Asian chick and the kid in the wheelchair (Arly? Harley?) put their two cents in and Mr. Schue was a horrible coordinator. Ms. Sylvester would never have allowed such strife, if she had to beat it out of them. More than that, she and Rachel had a lot of history, most of it bad. Rachel could barely look her in the eye most of the time and issued a formal apology after practice one day.
She was putting 'The Old Man and the Sea' away when Rachel cleared her throat. The room was empty, even of the piano guy, and she said, not looking at Quinn, "I wish to extend my apologies to you about our sordid affair a week and a half ago. I was overly aggressive and I'm unsure why I engaged you in such. However, I would like to say, if you are in agreement, that our coupling was not horrendous and that if you ever wish to engage in activities such as that again, you know where to find me."
Quinn stood stock-still until Rachel left and then sat abruptly in a chair, lapsing into almost hysterical laughter before she headed to her car and drove home. She worked on homework until it was time for dinner and as soon as she was finished, turned back to finish her geometry homework, the last assignment for the day. Her cellphone's text ringer started and she pulled it out to look at who it was. She bit her lip, seeing it was Finn. She flipped the lock upwards and, without looking at the words, slid it so that the red delete option appeared, and pressed it.
About ten minutes later a new one was sent, also from Finn. She ignored it and turned to her literature textbook to get ahead of the class. Quinn was only on the second page of the reading she'd selected when her phone chirped again. She turned it off and tossed it on her bed. After she finished the reading, she packed her things away and headed to the bathroom for her shower. She was drying her hair when she figured it was okay to turn her phone back on. The Sprint screen showed seven voicemails, thirty-two texts and twelve missed calls from Finn. One text was from Brittany, who appeared to have been sexting Santana, and one was from Rachel. Well, three were from Rachel, but it was really one split by the limited amount of characters.
Hello, Quinn. This is Rachel. I thought that it would be appropriate to text you that I would like to invite you as well as the other Glee club members, of course, to a picnic in order to promote a sense of wellbeing in our very conflicted club. The picnic's tentative date is this Saturday, the nineteenth. Please text back with your reply.
For a moment she hesitated. There was absolutely no need for her to go unless she was going to make fun of the poor thing. However, this could be an opportunity to get closer to Rachel, even if it was with other people. In the end, she decided to ignore it. If Berry didn't understand by now that it wasn't going to be that simple, then she was either an idiot or determined. Considering she was with Finn, she ought to know what stupid looked like.
She shifted uncomfortably in her bed, thinking about Rachel and Finn, about her baby, Brittany, Santana, and Glee. The other members, all four of them, were severely distrustful of them, so splitting them up would be hard. They needed someone to break their spirits, someone professional, not just some girls. Slowly, she reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts for Santana.
U wanna do what u do best? She sent.
The reply was almost instantaneous. who am I fucking up?
Mouthbreathers. Fast.
I gots u.
The next day Santana showed her an e-mail from some guy called Dakota something, Stanley or Riley; who cared as long as he got results. "He's the best," Santana explained. "Won a bunch of trophies, we could sell this to them easy."
She shook her head, "Not them, just Treasure Trail. They do what she says, no matter how much they complain."
Santana frowned a little, "That is sort of weird. I mean, if I hated someone as much as they claim Man Hands, I'd have been out of that club faster than you can say 'cunt.'"
She laughed at the look on Quinn's face, "Well, faster than I can say it, virgen de Guadalupe."
Quinn rolled her eyes, "You aren't Mexican; you're Puerto Rican."
Santana grinned, "Bet the blanquitos don't know that."
Quinn nearly said something but then straightened when she saw Rachel. She and Santana looked at one another and nodded, each walking to either side of Rachel. She'd originally intended to be intimidating, but Rachel's eyes, sad and wide but trusting, pierced her. Something had told her to text Rachel. She caught Santana's eye and gestured for her to leave. Santana raised an eyebrow, unmoving, so Quinn did it again, harsher and jerkier, an unmistakable leave. The other girl rolled her eyes again but left, handing the paper to Quinn.
"C'mon," She mumbled to Rachel and headed towards the physics class. Mr. Green usually left around this time for lunch, but he never locked his door. She turned the light on and sat on top of one of the desks. Rachel sat across from her. They were quiet before Rachel said, "You didn't text back." She didn't sound accusing, just resigned and sad as if it were an everyday occurrence. For her, it probably was.
Quinn almost winced, thinking about how she'd known that would come back and bite her in the ass. Instead she said, "I didn't get it, my phone is off."
Rachel's eyes brightened until they were nearly a molten color, "Then you'll come?"
Her voice was very hopeful, so hopeful that Quinn couldn't crush it, "Sure. Just, um, give me your address and cell or whatever. I'll call you on my house phone later."
Berry had already torn a strip of paper off and written it in her loopy scrawl. Quinn quickly did the math and realized that the address was different from the house that she'd seen before, further out of town and on the other side of Quinn's house. This meant that at the beginning of the year, at that party where she'd gotten pregnant, Rachel had gone at least ten blocks out of her way in order to take her home, and it was not the convenience Quinn had originally thought.
At the bottom, past the cell phone and home number and address, was written, "Ask for Spencer."
Quinn frowned, "Who is Spencer?"
Rachel's cheeks turned pink, "It's my legal name. I have had Rachel written down as my preferred name since third grade, but Abba-Leh doesn't want me changing it until I am eighteen and can make an informed decision and he refuses to acknowledge my preferred name as well."
Abba-Leh? What in the world did that mean? And Spencer Berry sounded pretty weird, like a guy's name. Then again, her name was Quinn. They sounded like a couple of boys, with names like that. Quinn and Spencer; it didn't flow as well as Rachel and Quinn.
At seeing Quinn's confused face, Rachel clarified, "It's Hebrew for dad. Well, Abba is father and leh is added for affection, so something like daddy or papa. We've started infusing Hebrew into my everyday vocabulary for my summer trip to Israel to visit my grandparents."
Quinn shifted from foot to foot. Was it okay to make small talk now? Rachel looked poised to ramble so she asked, "Do you go every year?"
The brunette shook her head, "No. The trip is too expensive, and normally we visit Papa's family in California for the majority of the summer, so this will be my first time in Israel since I was very young."
Rachel looked hesitant after revealing so much, so Quinn said, "Nice. The furthest I've ever been from Lima was Pennsylvania to visit my aunt. All I really remember is that bell and how it smelled bad." Say what you wanted about Lima, it had very little pollution or smog.
Rachel beamed but confessed, "I don't remember much of Israel. Just that it was crowded and busy and lots of men wore yarmulkes. I remember the Wall, a little. I pulled one out, but it was written in Hebrew so I put it back."
There wasn't much to say. "Cool," Quinn replied. She'd have to look up Judaism if Rachel was going to just keep casually inserting them like they didn't live in Lima, OH. Rachel glanced at her watch, a delicate thing, and frowned, "I apologize for running this conversation short, Quinn, but I agreed to have lunch with Finn since he gave me your number. He was very upset that you didn't respond last night, so I'll tell him your phone was off."
Her stomach ached, not just from not eating, but with the knowledge that Finn was moving in on Rachel. Not that there was much to move on to; she and Rachel were barely civil most of the time, and neither of them was gay. Well, she wasn't gay and she was fairly certain that gay people didn't actually raise gay kids and that was just her daddy being a bigot and a Republican. Besides, Rachel was likely to be someone not worried about labels or bodies and was concerned with the mental and the soul. Which really begged the question why she was interested in Finn since he couldn't count past fourteen (she'd seen him try and it was pathetic) and he was possibly more self-centered than she was.
She was brought out of her thoughts by a small hand on her cheek. Rachel's soft hand felt warm and gentle against her; she resisted the urge to turn her head and kiss her palm, or to tell her that Man Hands was an absolute lie. Rachel peered up at her, looking concerned, before saying, "Are you okay? You look pale."
Quinn mustered up a smile, "Not all of us have year-round tans, Berry. How do you do it, anyways?"
Rachel looked slightly confused, and then returned the expression, "It's my natural color. My Abba-Leh isn't that dark, so I suppose my surrogate mother passed it on." Her mouth tapered off into a concerned line, "But are you honestly okay? I can take you to the nurse and cancel with Finn."
She opened her mouth to say no, she was fine, but what came out was, "Please? My stomach hurts."
Rachel took her hand tenderly, the left one, branding it again, "Of course." The nurse's office was near Miss Pillsbury's room and they could see her talking to Joey Marsh, trying to hand him a pamphlet; his red eyes followed them for a few feet before drifting off to a corner. The nurse took one glance at Quinn and said, "Grab a bed, dear, you look tired. I'll send your friend to get your classwork after you fall asleep."
Quinn was glad she didn't have to ask for Rachel to stay. That would veer past potential friendship and into crush territory pretty quickly. The brunette, rather than the nurse, fussed over her, settling the blanket on her, fluffing her pillow, and giving her a bottle of water since nurses weren't allowed to give them drugs. She would probably have done more but Quinn took her hand in one of hers, so she sat and watched her. It should have felt creepy, but there was no malicious intent or the cold look she'd seen before. Just as she was drifting off Rachel looked behind her and then kissed her forehead, cheeks, fluttering eyelids, a soft, barely there press to her lips and then, finally, her palm.
Rachel pressed her nose against her hand gently, across the longest line. Quinn could feel her breath against the skin of her palm and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was alone. She rolled onto her side but heard the sound of crumbling paper. She searched on the side of the bed and found a stack of homework assignments and a small note folded origami style into a star. She was reluctant, but unfolded the paper to read the note.
"Quinn,
Thought you could use the extra rest. I've taken the liberty of collecting your homework assignments and notes for the day. If you need anything once school is over before this Saturday, you have my number and Finn said he would also be available.
- Rachel B. Berry "
Quinn smiled and sat up to reach for her book bag. She placed the papers in a folder and struggled to make the paper into the star that Rachel had but found she couldn't, so she folded it into a square and placed it in the front pocket of her book bag, where she kept her phone. She pulled the phone out to program Rachel's number in it, but it showed the number under the name Spencer B. Quinn's smile stretched more and she placed it back in the pocket. Her watch told her it was just past one and she had one more class to get through. The nurse gave her a pass and she ducked into the math class. Mr. Gilbert gave her a suspicious look but she took her seat and finished the lesson.
In the last fifteen minutes of school, once most of the chaos had set in, she grabbed a phone off a table from some stupid kid and sent Rachel a text.
How would you feel if I could help you win Sectionals?
The text was almost instantaneous.
That would be lovely. May I ask why you would inquire such, stranger?
Quinn bit her lip and thought before sending another text off.
Don't worry about that. Just contact Dakota Stanley
Rachel didn't text back but Quinn knew she'd sown the seeds of discord. She tossed the phone back on the kid's desk and decided to wait until Friday's practice rather than bothering anything. She was feeling satisfied for most of the day and well into the night, until she had a bout of morning sickness at three in the morning that Thursday. Her father walked by but only said, "Keep it down, Quinn. I'm glad you're taking the initiative on your weight but I've got a meeting tomorrow and I need to be on top of my game."
Her voice was croaky when she replied, "Right, I'm sorry."
She thrust her head over the toilet and vomited again, so hard her stomach clenched tight.
He closed the door.
When sunrise came she looked paler than normal and she was tired. She just barely kept at the front of the pack during morning practice and Santana had smacked her on the back of the head more than once to tell her she was slowing down and that she needed to speed up. Her head hurt by the end of practice but her day started to look up when she found a Nutri-Grain bar and an individual box of vanilla Silk soymilk in her locker on the way to first period. Not a large amount of people knew that she preferred soymilk to regular milk although she wasn't lactose intolerant, and as it was more expensive, it was a rare treat when the cafeteria had it.
Quinn ate them before first period and was immediately greeted by an enthusiastic Rachel waving to her in their English class. Luckily, Rachel kept pretty quiet, only answering some of the questions and not adding her own facts and anecdotes as she normally did. Even her voice, normally projected for maximum value with minimum effort, was quieter. Did she know Quinn wasn't feeling up to par today?
Quinn smiled at her when class ended and Rachel beamed back at her. If a room was dark enough, she was fairly certain that Rachel's smile would be more than enough light. Now that she thought of it, Rachel's teeth had been straight even in elementary school and felt a little jealous. That jealousy slunk away when she saw Finn's tall form and hurried onto her third period. There was no way she could deal with him today when she felt so vulnerable. Maybe in fifth she could do better.
Luckily, she didn't have to. Mr. Fieldson separated them because there was a group assignment and he didn't want couples working together. Instead, she was paired with the black kid who used to go to her church. There was very little she remembered about him other than that and his name started with an 'M.' He was very quiet, though, and they worked together in silence. He nodded at her when they left, but that was the only acknowledgement that she received. She went to the nurses' for lunch when she saw Finn ask Santana something and took a power nap.
Seventh period was much different. Puck leered at her when he wasn't flirting with the teacher and listening to him speak made her stomach ache. That was half of her baby's genes? She'd be lucky if it didn't come out macking on the nurse. Practice after school was a little harder than before. She was better rested but her balance felt off and she nearly fell twice. She'd had to add an extra flip to make sure it went unnoticed. Ms. Sylvester then added that to the routine and they went through the entire thing four more times before she let them go home. They had to be back on the field by seven for the game, so this wasn't much of a break.
She called Rachel just as she'd told her on the house phone before dinner, when she normally took her nap. The voice that answered was gruff and short, with a faintly accented, "Hello?"
Quinn licked her lips. Rachel must have left her cellphone somewhere. "Um, hi. Is R-"
She paused, thinking of what Rachel had herself listed under, "Is Spencer there?"
"Please wait," he muttered. Heavy boot steps echoed all the way through the phone and she heard the knocking of a door, "Spencer?" Everything else was, while not indistinguishable, in another language. Another voice, familiar and pitched higher responded. All she understood was abba-leh. She heard a door close before Rachel said, "Hello?" She sounded impersonal but not cold.
"Hey, it's, um, it's me." She then hastily added, "Quinn, I mean Quinn."
"Oh, hello Quinn," Rachel said. Her voice was much warmer and friendlier now. It made Quinn wonder how she could switch it up so quickly. She could only really maintain pissed, angry, irritated, dutiful, and apathetic for longer than five minutes. "How has your day been so far?"
"It's been nice," She replied. "I found a Nutri-Grain bar and some soymilk in my locker, though. Would you happen to know anything about it?"
"Guilty. I've seen you drink them at lunch and everyone likes Nutri-Grain. I figured I couldn't go wrong."
Quinn smiled at her thoughtfulness, "Thanks. It really came in handy; I didn't eat breakfast this morning."
She could hear the indignity in her tone, "Quinn! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and sets the tone for the rest of the day. I know for a fact that Ms. Sylvester has the cheerleading squad out there from very early and the necessary vitamins and nutrients that can be found in something as simple as a banana can stop you from becoming undernourished and eventually sick."
"Sorry, guess I'll have to eat more often." Then she thought about her father closing the door that morning on her becoming ill and said, "My parents think I'm gaining too much weight, though."
Rachel's voice was softer, when she next spoke, "Your weight is fine, Quinn. If anything, I'm certain you could do with a little extra gain. There's nothing wrong with being healthy, but if you're so concerned, I can assure you that you'll still be the prettiest girl I've ever met."
Quinn opened her mouth to say, "So are you." To say, "I've liked you since I was in the fourth grade." To murmur, "I think you are absolutely perfect." Even to blurt out, "I'm pregnant and I'm panicking and I have no clue about what to do."
None of that happened.
But what did happen was that she burst into tears. Rachel spoke to her gently, the little sounds people always made. When she was a little quieter, Rachel said, "Would you like for me to go to your house?"
Quinn sniffled, "No. I'll just see you on Saturday."
"Are you certain?" Rachel asked. "I know it may seem like an outdated mode of transportation but I can be there within twenty minutes on my bicycle."
Quinn gave a watery smile, "I'm sure. On Saturday, promise."
"Well, then. I suppose you don't want to talk about English class either?"
She chuckled, "No, maybe I can call you tomorrow, if you're up for it."
"Talking to a beautiful girl on the phone? Always."
Her smile was sudden and bright, and she wished Rachel was there to see it so she could say, "This is what you do to me with just a simple sentence." She wished Rachel was there to press her hand against her chest and say, "This is where you should be."
What she did say was, "Bye, Rachel."
"Shalom, Quinn."
Dinner was quiet, as it always was, and she kept thinking of Rachel willing to bike across town for her. Was Finn even willing to stop playing video games? As much as he tried to talk to her on the phone and at school, he'd never come to her house and asked to talk to her or left a note in her locker.
She was still thinking about that, what lengths either of them would go through for her, before she went to the game. Finn didn't even wave on the field as they were annihilated by the other team. The Cheerios demolished the other cheerleaders, but of course only their parents noticed. She didn't have the balloon dream that night, but a vastly shorter and upbeat dream. She was giving the baby a bath, smoothing down the soft white-blond hair, when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She looked back to see Rachel's hair, the soft curls she'd seen in elementary school, and felt a mouth against the nape of her neck. Quinn woke up with no recollection, just a content feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Friday was a little easier. Her only real problems were her fourth period, where Finn kept trying to look at her biology test and sixth, where Rachel was given a swirlie and had to run without a shirt since Ms. Sylvester wouldn't let her run with a wet shirt or get another one. Quinn tried not to notice how all of her was the same golden tan.
The Dakota Stanley plan didn't work out as well as anticipated. He'd insulted the original five kids and Finn, but she hadn't counted on Finn growing a backbone. Her hands fisted at her sides when he talked back. If anyone had ever insulted her, including some of his football buddies, he never did anything beyond giving an uncomfortable smile or a, "Dude, quit." Here he'd hardly ever spoken to Rachel but then he talked back to an older man. The only thing that saved him was that Rachel didn't give him her glow-in-the-dark grin, but a rather subdued smile, as if to say, "Idiot, you realize your girlfriend is there, right?" Obviously not.
Rachel called her that night, around the same time they'd talked the night before. She made sure to keep the portable house phone in her room just in case. She didn't want her parents to find out they were talking; they'd probably drag her to get an exorcism. She was only half joking - her mother had been raised Catholic and believed in holy water like it was the tears of Jesus himself.
The conversation was a little longer and they did actually talk about their English work.
"I just feel as if we're progressing very slowly," Rachel complained. "I read The Scarlet Letter in the seventh grade. I'm very unsure of what if any more knowledge can be gleaned from it, if any, especially with a teacher that rarely gives an alternative outlook on anything I say."
Quinn laughed, "Is that why you're always talking? I just thought you liked the sound of your own voice."
"Harhar. Contrary to popular belief, I do not speak merely to hear my own voice. If you will recall, I rarely spoke at all in elementary school."
The blonde smiled fondly at the memory of the girl Rachel had been. She still remembered the soft-looking curls, long legs, and the big eyes that she'd mostly been.
Quinn leaned back on her bed, getting more comfortable, before she asked, "Why was that? I mean, you went from not saying anything to not stopping."
There was a humming sound as Rachel thought. "I don't know," She finally admitted. "I suppose it was because when I was younger I was always picked on and everything I said was taken out of context. And in middle school I tried to be more social but everyone still picked on me so instead I was just polite and quiet. When high school came, being polite didn't help me at all so I decided that it was fine to voice my opinions."
There was a rueful chuckle, "Do you know I've only ever had two friends besides you? And that was for less than a year."
Guilt smacked her in the chest. She could have helped Rachel. She'd have been her friend. Her voice was so low she was surprised that the receiver picked up on it, "I'm sorry."
Rachel made a small sound. She wasn't sure if it was a sigh or something else, "For what?"
"For everything," She whispered. "I'm sorry for not staying as your friend; for not being nice to you in freshman year; for never sticking up for you."
She heard static as the phone shifted before hearing Rachel's voice again, "That's not your fault Quinn. Our paths were set long before you were mean to me, before we were even born. That's like apologizing for the moon being silver or the Sun being bright."
"I'd apologize for that too, if you wanted me to."
Rachel was quiet.
"Rachel?"
"I'm here. I just need a moment."
She could hear Rachel's breathing before she said, "I'm sorry I kissed Finn."
Her mouth went dry. Her eyes were dry, too, and she rubbed them before licking her lips. Her voice was a croak, "What?"
"Before you joined Glee, we kissed. I'm sorry I never told you."
She curled onto her side, phone pressed harshly to her ear. Her chest hurt; it felt like an overinflated balloon, about to pop. Or like the day after Puck's party, when it felt like heartburn and heartache. Her breathing felt funny but she still asked, "Why?"
"Why what? That I never told you or that I did it?"
"Why did you kiss?"
"I don't know either. That's what you do in the movies, isn't it? You meet a boy and he's nice to you but he already has someone so you pine until the two of you kiss and it's all sparks and rainbows. And then you get together, and everything's fine."
The words were out of her mouth before she could think, "Was it worth it?"
Rachel's voice was honest, so honest she could almost feel it, could almost see it gleaming in her dark eyes, like the day they kissed, "No. It wasn't worth a fraction of your sadness right now."
"How can you tell I'm sad?" Quinn asked. She didn't know if sadness felt like her insides were ice and everything was numb. She wanted a blanket, one with stars, like in her dream. Would that make her warm?
"I can hear you sniffling."
Quinn rubbed her eyes. Sure enough, there was liquid there. No wonder her chest hurt. "Oh."
"I wish I was there so I could hug you," Rachel said.
Quinn was honest, "I wish you were here so I could punch you and push you out my window."
"I'd let you. Then I'd get up, go back into your room and hug you again."
She hung up.
She ignored the phone when Rachel called back and didn't answer her phone calls that day or Sunday. An eye for an eye. A heart break for a heart break.
The next Monday, there was a box of Silk soymilk, a teddy bear with a topaz argyle sweater with a star stitched onto it and a red bowtie, and two Nutri-Grain bars in her locker. One was strawberry flavored and the other was apple. Next to the bear was a note, folded into a heart.
She was about to touch it when she heard Finn call, "Quinn? There you are."
Quinn slammed her locker shut and walked away. It was too much, way too much too soon. She didn't have time, or a lie or anything but the pain in her chest. He followed with his long stride and caught her shoulder, "Why have you been avoiding me? What's wrong?"
She was crying again, she could already tell. She opened her mouth to say that she knew about him and Rachel. What came out was, "I'm pregnant."
He stood stock-still, face blank before devastation spread across it. Ground zero all over again. Finn knew what it meant. Everyone knew what a high school pregnancy meant.
He pointed to himself, "Is-is it mine?"
This part she knew, "Of course it is, silly. Who else's would it be?"
"But-but," He sputtered. "We never-"
She interrupted him, glancing around. No one was looking at them, thank God. There was no need for everyone to know that her boyfriend had the mind of a seven-year-old.
"Last month? The hot tub?"
He protested, "But we had our bathing suits on."
And you came before I was in your pants, she thought dryly, forget the bathing suit. "Ask Jeeves said it's the perfect temperature. Something about the heat makes them swim faster or something."
His mouth formed an 'o.' Surely he knew she was lying. Surely he was going to call her out on her bullshit and demand the truth.
"So a month?" He finally asked. Finn hadn't caught on. God really was looking out for her. She nodded and pressed her face against his chest. He smelled like boy, grass and Axe. Her nose wrinkled and she turned her face so she could smell fresh air. "I really thought I had a shot of getting out of here," She whispered. He kissed the top of her head.
Quinn didn't have a chance to go back to her locker before the end of Cheerio's practice. Everything was still there. She devoured the bars, cursing Sue Sylvester's Master Cleanse diet, and drank her milk quickly. The note read,
"Dear Quinn,
I'm sorry for hurting you. As a token of my apology, you may now have Theodore Berry. He's been my companion since I was five.
- Rachel B. Berry "
She bit her lip and ripped the note up until she couldn't anymore. She took the bear and meant to throw him in the trash but couldn't. She put him back in her locker and headed home. Quinn felt listless and cold. She pulled on a sweater and a pair of sweat pants but still didn't feel warm. She went to bed right after dinner and didn't dream or wake up during the night.
She was in third period before she realized why Rachel had named the bear Theodore and couldn't stop herself from smiling. The smile disappeared before the end of lunch, when Puck ran after her and said, "So who's the daddy?"
Quinn's face became colder as she said, "What are you talking about?"
"Finn's my boy," he smirked. "I think I'd know if you two had sex."
"You make it a habit of sleeping with your boy's girlfriend?"
He frowned, "What're you talking about? I didn't fuck you."
She paled so quickly he stepped forwards to help hold her up. She pushed his arms away and croaked, "What?"
"I didn't fuck you. I was with Tracy Gollight that night. Took her anal cherry. I just drank with you."
He looked at her face, really looked at her face and his own softened, "You really don't remember who you were with that night?"
She shook her head, lips pressed tight to keep from crying.
He rubbed his Mohawk, "Damn, Quinn. Shit. Um, I'd ask Berry. I think she was there." He gave her another pitying look, patted her shoulder awkwardly, and then left.
She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Did everything lead back to Rachel?
The halls were still crowded but she heard the clack of Mary Jane's across linoleum floor as if they were gun shots, before Rachel inquired, "Quinn? May I speak with you privately?"
She rubbed her eyes harder, "Just spit it out here. No one's paying us any attention."
"I was with you that night," Rachel said. Quinn lowered her hands and glared at her darkly. Rachel met her eyes head on. There was no deceit in her eyes, just that frankness and brightness, as if there was too much of her for her skin.
"You may have been with me that night," She replied, "But there's no way this is your problem."
Rachel took her hand in one of her own. Her hands were soft and a little moist. They were smaller than Quinn's, but still a little large for her body, and they held her tightly. That didn't make any sense. Was she nervous?
The brunette looked at her hand. "Yes, it is. I was with you that night; more so, I was the only one with you that night."
Her voice was choked, "That's impossible. I'm pregnant, Rachel, not gay."
Rachel tugged her through the halls until they were in the clinic. The nurse wasn't there. Rachel pushed her to sit on a bed. Rachel's fingers were fumbling when she unbuttoned and unzipped her deliciously short skirt and pushed until they were around her knees. Quinn felt her ears and face flush, "Rachel, what are you-"
Her breath caught. Nestled between Rachel's thighs lay a penis.