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Quinn had inadvertently started a craze, all because of one less than graceful moment. Every day she passed students in the hall, their clothes soaked through with multicoloured corn syrup. The girls would pass the blonde quickly, misery present in their eyes, whilst the boys would clench their fists and tighten their jaws before ducking into the closest bathroom. As for the girl she had originally drenched by accident, Quinn had heard her name was Rachel Berry, and she was the literal poster child for what the kids had now coined – getting slushied.
It seemed that everywhere she looked there was either a jock grinning whilst stalking the halls, Big Quench held threateningly in his hand, or someone cowered against their locker scanning every direction nervously. Quinn realised she had invented a new form of high school bullying, and every so often she would feel tremendously guilty. But then that Rachel girl would shoulder past her on the way to class with such a strong air of dignity and loathing, and Quinn would feel better about smiling at an onlooker who'd snickered and admired her genius.
Joining the Cheerios and the Chastity Club had been uncomplicated, she'd taken a variety of dance classes until she was eight years old and her father decided that her eagerness would be better directed at church activities. Also, she had been studying each of the Bring It On movies almost religiously. Once Coach Sylvester had deduced Quinn could do more than a few unpractised arabesques and pirouettes, she had handed the young girl a strict dietary schedule, a uniform and the warning to be on the football field at six the next morning.
It was after her third cheerleading practise that Quinn realised that simply being a member of the team would not be enough. Though she received a small influx of adoration and catcalls in the hallways, there was still someone above her, someone she had to answer to. It was quickly determined that Quinn would need a much higher rank on the squad, the highest even, but it was completely unheard of for a freshman to receive the title of head cheerleader.
Quinn had sat in the bleachers alone, the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead drying up as the sun set beyond the field. Chrystal Sullivan, the captain of the Cheerios was obliviously gathering discarded water bottles from the ground and tossing them into a trash bag. Unbeknownst to her, as she jogged across the asphalt at the edge of the 40 yard line towards the double doors leading to the girl's locker room, she became clinched in Quinn's reticule.
She would have backed down if it hadn't been so effortless, she had spent a few days carefully plotting ways to get Chrystal to retire her captainship, dismissing juvenile ideas of peroxide shampoo and itching talc. She had decided that she needed to know her enemy, so after practice one Thursday she followed her home. What she found had been beyond surprising, and was all the ammo she knew she'd need.
The following Monday, Quinn had stormed into Coach Sylvester's office and delivered, without trepidation or hesitance, the statement that Chrystal Sullivan lived across town in Crestwood, in a mobile home. Coach Sylvester had been outraged, her strong belief being that anyone whose residence was built with less than three bedrooms must be a drug peddling, illegal immigrant.
Quinn ignored Chrystal's tears as the coach tore her birth certificate to pieces in front of the rest of the squad, demanding it must be fraudulent. She was prepared for a new captain to be elected, her brain already formulating ways to eliminate any candidate who came forward. Instead, her smug smirk betrayed her astonishment when Coach Sylvester named her, freshman Quinn Fabray as the next Cheerio captain.
Word quickly spread around the school that Chrystal Sullivan was a fleeing inhabitant of a tiny, unknown island off the coast of Mexico, and Quinn took more than a little pleasure watching as those that were once below her on the social ladder laughed whilst tossing slushies in her face.
On Wednesday, the second week of sophomore year, Quinn finally completed the last of her goals. It had taken longer than she had originally intended, for she could not have known that winning Finn Hudson's affections would be so problematic. The boy had the attention span of a newborn feral squirrel at best, and Quinn had spent the whole of freshman year trying to figure out how to become his metaphorical nut, so that he would focus on her for at least four minutes at a time.
She wondered for at least a week if she made him too nervous, due to his skittish behaviour in her presence. And then she considered for another week that he may have ADD. Why else would he seem so oblivious and impassive to her obvious flirtations?
She'd almost given up trying to charm Finn into agreeing to date her, thinking it was more tiresome than he was worth. It would have been simple for her to pick another member of the football team, but there was something special about Finn Hudson. He was the double standard of high school stereotypes, not only the quarterback and standing example of school spirit, but also a genuinely nice guy. His popularity came with ease because everybody liked him, he wasn't biased in his choice of friends and he never intentionally alienated anyone.
He was unmolded clay, ready to be massaged into any shape or form beneficial to Quinn, and after noticing once again how the other girls at McKinley fawned over him; she decided that maybe Finn was worth her effort after all.
It seemed that the only things capable of holding Finn's attention for a substantial amount of time were sports and video games. Whilst she was weighing her self-diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder, Quinn tried many things to get Finn to notice her. She baked him cupcakes lathered in green frosting, topped with chocolate covered almonds. Of course the football symbolism was completely lost on him, he'd snatched the box from her hands, ignoring her sultry appreciation of his athletic abilities and all but inhaled the tiny desserts.
She obtained his cell phone number from Santana, who had successfully landed Noah Puckerman no longer than one month into freshman year, though she grudgingly admitted it wasn't the most ideal choice. Noah had quickly been revealed as quite the womanizer, and was now known throughout the halls of McKinley High as Puck – a name which was given to him simply as shorthand for Puckerman, or his behaviour as quite the trickster, Quinn wasn't sure. Either way, Puck had his uses, and Santana wasn't above exploiting them. She'd call Finn at 7:00am sharp on Friday mornings to give him an inspirational game day pep talk before school, most of which ended with her hanging up in frustration when all she got in response to her carefully researched sentiments was grunting or snoring.
Quinn had even thought of stooping to an entire new level of low, perusing the local jewellers for the cheapest, yet most extravagant necklace she could find. She'd heard rumours about teenage boys and shiny objects.
Just when Quinn had officially run out of ideas, Brittany had nudged her in the cafeteria and effectively broken her out of her Finn induced haze. The girl who by now had become an integral part of Quinn and Santana's friendship started talking animatedly, gesturing wildly around the room. After some gentle coaxing from Quinn, Brittany who was known to easily slip from one subject to another unintentionally, stopped gushing about her most recent date with Matt and informed Quinn of the night's plans.
Brittany and Matt were going over to Puck's house after school, to hang out with him and Santana. Brittany insisted that Quinn come along, and rebuffed the blonde's claims that she would be a fifth wheel by revealing that Finn had earlier accepted the invitation to join them.
When school let out, Quinn caught a ride with Santana and they trailed Puck's truck back to his place. After a brief introduction to Puck's mom, who informed them that she was leaving for her bridge game and not to wait up, the six of them made their way up to Puck's bedroom. His room was not at all what Quinn had expected. She thought it would be hideously untidy, plates of half eaten food littering the floor and posters of naked, or at least half naked women lining the walls.
Instead it was painstakingly clean; everything seeming to have its place, and always being returned to it after use. He had a black futon bed that was in its couch position, the bedding folded and neatly stored by the side. There were two large beanbags thrown in front of the closed doors of his closet, and the beige walls were decorated with framed, neatly hung posters advertising Scarface, Gridiron Gang and interestingly; American Pie, as well as some sporting pennants and merchandise. Across the room from the futon was a large HD TV, set on top of a low wooden shelving unit which housed his Xbox and games. Either side of that were tall bookcases made from the same wood, stacked full with DVDs.
Puck gestured for them to sit, Santana and himself quickly getting comfortable on the futon love seat. Brittany sat down on one of the beanbags, giggling quietly as her body swayed around slightly before settling into the groove her weight had created. Matt reclined on the floor at her feet, which left Quinn and Finn standing awkwardly besides the remaining beanbag.
Finn had offered her the more comfortable seating option, once again proving his gentleness with a wave of his hand. She had sat down, smiling softly at the tall boy when he awkwardly lowered himself off to her side, trying to fold his legs as close to his body as possible.
They had chatted idly for a while before Puck announced that discussing school outside of school was so far beyond lame his brain was bleeding. He'd then stood and pulled a box from under his desk, opening it and throwing a few textbooks onto the ground before turning back to face his friends with a beer in one hand, and an exotic berry wine cooler in the other. Santana took the proffered drink and uncapped the lid like it was an everyday occurrence, and Quinn was shocked to see Brittany, Matt and Finn do the same once Puck had passed out more bottles.
Puck held out the alcoholic beverage to her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow and Quinn felt the overwhelming urge to decline. Though once she glanced around the room and noticed each of her friends eagerly downing the liquid as fast as they could, she supposed it was time she grew up entirely.
The wine cooler was deceiving, after her first bottle Quinn found that it just tasted like soda. So she was rather confused when four bottles down, she suddenly found everything anyone said hilarious. They spent the evening eating the pizzas they had ordered and the girls gossiped and cheered on the boys as they enthusiastically blew things up on a video game. Quinn happily high fived Finn after he expertly sniped an armed gunman who Puck had deemed near impossible to kill.
The next day Quinn had come into school with the newest Call of Duty and Madden games, unwrapped and still in their Gamestop bag. She found Finn leaning against his locker, laughing with Dave Karofsky. Walking over to him, she nonchalantly handed him the bag and watched as the confusion in his eyes gave way to delight. And just like that, Finn Hudson was hers.