Hey guys! Thanks for all of the lovely comments and reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. I'm very excited about this story, so expect chapters to come every other day or so. As long as I have interest (for motivation), I'll be inspired and make sure to keep them coming. Thanks for reading :)
"I see that we have a mother in our midst."
Quinn heard the lazy drawl as she crossed the football field toward the silver bleaches. The bleachers shone bright white in the sun, blinding her vision. As she shaded her eyes, Quinn could make out the familiar shape of Coach Sylvester perched on one of the lower rows of bleachers. Red and white track suit, yellow and red megaphone raised to the sky, she was exactly how Quinn remembered her.
Quinn let the insult slide off of her like rainwater. Whatever Coach Sylvester thought of her no longer mattered. She was trying out for the Cheerios again, and she would make it. No one could stop her.
Tossing her ponytail in what she hoped was an intimidating way, Quinn shook her head slightly and jogged up to Santana and Brittany. The duo were warming up, equipped with water bottles and latex bands. Brittany rested her leg on Santana's shoulder, reaching out and gripping her toes. Santana was fooling around with the latex band, wrapping it around her fingers and pulling to stretch out her arms. Quinn placed her own water bottle on the bleachers, making a move to join them. However, Santana tossed her a dirty look and nodded to Brittany, "Come on Britt, let's hang with the other Cheerios."
"She thinks you're trying to steal her Cheerios Captain spot!" Brittany called over her shoulder as she was dragged towards the other half of the field, hand in hand with Santana. Quinn had completely forgot about Santana being the Cheerios Captain. Of course, it was expected that Santana would get nervous about Quinn trying out again. It was all stressful for Santana, but Quinn was going to get the position. There was nothing to worry about.
"All girls here for the female Cheerios tryouts please drag your lazy ass over here so we can start already."
The message crackled through the megaphone as Coach Sylvester spoke at an unnecessary and obnoxious level of volume. The girls made their way over to the lanky blond woman, some dressed in ripped shorts and off the shoulder tops, and some Cheerios, flaunting the tight uniforms that were already in their possession. Quinn bit her lip, trying not to feel intimidated by all of the Cheerios trying out again. Santana and Brittany were among them, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Quinn stepped beside Brittany, as she felt Santana's burning gaze on her back. She tried to remain positive, but butterflies erupted in her stomach.
What if she didn't make it?
Quinn tried to brush the idea out of her head. Coach Sylvester knew her, and she knew how hard Quinn worked as a Cheerio. She had been the captain and she had rocked it. Of course she would make it, Q had always been the star of the Cheerios, and that star Cheerio still lived inside of her. Quinn lifted her head high, and attempted a smile at Coach Sylvester as she explained the process of the tryouts in her monotone drawl.
"I want you girls to start off by cartwheeling. I know it's easy, but I want you to cartwheel across the entire football field. No questions, just do it. Line up one by one on the left side." Raising her megaphone to her pale lips, her grey eyes observing her candidates, she barked, "LETS GO!"
One by one, the girls crossed the field. Some cartwheels were shaky, involving the girls collapsing on the matted grass, and some were perfect, the girls turning like a pinwheel, over and over again.
Brittany and Santana stood in front of Quinn. She watched as Brittany turned perfectly across the field, her long, slender legs twirling as she smiled and supported herself strongly on her arms. Santana beamed at her, and Quinn felt a spark of jealousy at their relationship. They appeared as just friends, but Quinn had a slim feeling that they weren't.
Santana cartwheeled neatly in front of her, and in the blink of an eye, she had crossed the field and it was Quinn's turn. Quinn smiled sweetly up at Coach Sylvester who was observing from an upper bleacher, and began to cartwheel. The first few went smoothly, as Quinn easily kicked her feet into the air and pressed her hands into the firm soil. With the feeling of spinning in space, she realized just how long it had been since she cartwheeled. She hadn't even practiced doing anything for the tryouts.
Quinn felt herself turning faster and faster, her cartwheels picking up speed. The entire world was a blur, green, blue, the yellow of the fading sun, all colors were melting like candles in heat, and Quinn's stomach turned dramatically. Her hands slipped suddenly, completely losing grip of the blades of grass between her fingers. She found herself slamming into the land, the entire side of her body making intense contact with the ground.
Quinn lay there. The side of her body was throbbing horribly, and she felt wet tears building up in her eyes. Pressing her hands to her face, she gulped in the chilly, fall air. She could hear people moving around her, the soft voice of Brittany, the sharp sneer of Santana.
Footsteps pattered around her like raindrops on a windowsill.
The bell rang.
"Finally." Rachel muttered under her breath, seizing her bag and hurriedly slinging it over her shoulder. She pulled her long brown hair to the side, maneuvering her way through the throng of students trying to press their ways out of the classroom. She had forgotten her sneakers in the girl's locker room from gym earlier this morning. Losing anything for Rachel was a rarity, and she was relieved that she had remembered.
Shoving the giant blue doors of the girl's locker room open, Rachel dashed over to locker 143. It sat in the corner, a bit isolated from the rest of the lockers, the last on its row. Rachel liked using it because it meant that she didn't need to socialize with anyone else changing, and that she could quickly put on her clothes and run to the next class. Rachel Berry was always on time.
Placing her bag gently on the bench, Rachel flipped the locker door open promptly. She expected her sneakers to be there, laid neatly in the back of the locker, just where she had left them. This wasn't the case.
A yellow and white bag sat in the center of the locker, adorned with a lovely pattern of painted daisies. It was unzipped, the contents exposed to the dull light of the dim locker room. Rachel knew she recognized the bag, and she frowned, reaching forward to examine the tag on the zipper of the bag. She turned it over. It was shaped like a daisy, and it had a name printed on it in a graceful cursive.
Quinn Fabray.
Rachel's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly shoved the bag back in its place and slammed the locker door shut. The crack of metal on metal echoed through the empty room, and Rachel shut her eyes closed, breathing hard.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Forget that.
Rachel silently swung the locker door open. She stopped for a moment, drinking in the contents of the bag with her eyes. It looked like mostly clothes, neatly stacked in piles. Rachel recognized Quinn's outfit from Glee club earlier that day, along with her phone and her textbooks. An unfamiliar object caught her eye, shiny, standing out, yet somewhat invisible in the dark light of the locker. She reached forward, grabbing the object in her hand and lifting it up to examine it. The familiar thin shape, the warm temperature that displayed that it had been held many times before...it was Santana's tape recorder.
Rachel's stomach dropped as the events of the morning all came back to her. Santana's snicker, Brittany's plea, the cool tears dripping down Rachel's cheeks, the embarrassment, the confusion. Had Quinn heard the recording?
Rachel felt the world spinning around her. She fell onto a nearby bench, pressing her back against the wall, the recorder slipping out of her hands and slamming into the floor. She took shaky breaths, shaking her head slowly. She wouldn't let herself worry about Quinn and the recording. She hadn't heard it yet…had she? She had been missing in history too, what was that about?
Everything was a mystery, and Rachel demanded organization in her life. She needed the answers. She needed to talk to Santana and Brittany.
Seizing the recorder from the ground, Rachel sprinted out the door of the locker room, running as fast as she possibly could towards the football field. She expected that Cheerios practice was going on as it usually did every other day or so after school. She rounded the corner of the hallway, and ran smack into an approaching figure.
"Rachel, what are you doing here?"
The concerned voice of Mr. Schuester reached her ears, as she picked herself up from the ground, blushing bright red. "I had to get something." She muttered, before smiling as confidently as she could muster up at the teacher, "See you later Mr. Schue! Have a nice day!"
As Rachel bustled towards the doors to the field, she noticed the familiar shapes of Santana and Brittany as well as a few other Cheerios kneeling over a shape on the ground, smack in the center of the giant field. Rachel squinted her eyes, walking up to the glass door and pressing her forehead against it, trying to decipher what was happening without adding to the scene. Her finger bumped against the "Play" button on the recorder absentmindedly, as her eyes soaked in what was going on.
"I am Quinn Fabray, and I am in love with Rachel Berry."
Rachel was barely listening, trying to figure out why all the girls standing on the field had quickly assembled a crowd. A few girls stepped aside, and Rachel watched in horror as Brittany and Santana lifted a crumpled blond figure off the ground and draped her over Brittany's shoulder. The short blond hair, the princess like features, the heart shaped face, the small, sweet lips. Her heart sunk deep into her chest, and she slowly lifted up the recorder, again pressing the play button tentatively with her thumb.
"I am Quinn Fabray, and I am in love with Rachel Berry."
Tears blurred her vision. Rachel slowly stepped back, her fingers trembling as they traced the shape of the recorder. She watched, terrified, as Brittany, with help from Santana and a few of the other Cheerios, carried Quinn off the field. The remaining girls stood awkwardly on the field, watching as Coach Sylvester made her way down the bleachers to instruct them.
Rachel spun on her heel and dashed down the hall. Tears mottled her vision, and she tried to steer herself as she ran, but it was becoming harder and harder to see. She was overwhelmed by emotion.
Quinn loved her, Quinn was hurt, Quinn, Quinn, Quinn.
Collapsing onto the ground, Rachel leaned against the wall in the empty hallway to catch her breath. Gripping the recorder to her chest, she heaved a shaky sigh. She didn't know what to do or what to think.
She left her shoes in locker 143.
Coach Sylvester watched with narrowed eyes as Quinn Fabray cartwheeled across the field. She was the same girl, under all of those stretch marks and traumas that had happened in the past year or so. Quinn's legs were still straight, her arms still strong. She was still very flexible, despite the fat she gained to hold her baby. Her cartwheels were still the same, confident, precise, fast moving.
Coach Sylvester needed a true leader to captain her team, and Santana just wasn't enough. Sure she was determined, brave, daring, and organized. She kept the team under control. However, nothing could ever top the grace and the confidence that Quinn showed while handling the team, and Sue Sylvester would admit, she missed Q.
Then there was the sound of a body smacking into land, and Coach Sylvester's thoughts flew out the window.