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Mercedes couldn't utter a sound. Wasn't he the one who desperately wanted her back? And now, he was turning her down. It was painful. She'd even break up with Shane because of her feelings for him. It wasn't because she'd planned to be back with him after their breakup, of course. But that was beside the point. Now, she was free. Single. She was literally waiting for Sam to knock on her door and try to win her back.

What had happened?

"You know, Rach, you didn't really have to do this for me," Quinn told Rachel, who had been unusually silent. "I'm not mad at you. It wasn't your... I mean, uh. Yeah. It wasn't your fault."

Rachel sighed heavily. "I'm sincerely sorry, Quinn. Yes, I know you're trying really, really hard to forgive me. But if I got hit by a truck and I was the one texting you, well, I wouldn't forgive you that easily. That's why I wouldn't really believe you if you said it's fine. You're in a wheelchair instead of doing your Cheerio dance moves, and you can barely walk..."

"Rachel, stop talking or I'll slap you," Quinn retorted. "Being in a wheelchair isn't bad. Really, it isn't. If I can't walk after this, I'll still be alive. I'll have the rest of my body with me. I'll be alive. And if I'll be stuck like this for my entire life, the only thing you'll need to do for me to accept your apology is to respect anyone like this. I didn't really before. But now that I'm like this, it's really hard, but really easy."

Then Rachel wheeled her forward. The lunch lady lazily plopped a big slice of cold, slightly gross piece of old lasagna from yesterday's lunch. Quinn dragged her tray down the nearest table.

"Aren't you sitting with the rest of the Glee club?" Rachel asked. "They might slushie you or something here."

"Don't worry," Quinn assured her with a naughty giggle. "After Jacob Ben Israel took a photo of me in a Cheerios uniform, the whole neighborhood thought I was head Cheerio again." Rachel flashed her a small smile. "I guess that explains why people respect you again, doesn't it?"

"'Course," she replied. "You know, it's kind of stupid how popularity, not personality, rules this school." "Tell me about it," Rachel agreed. "Good of you to realize that, considering you're Miss Popularity around here."

"See?" Quinn asked suddenly. "You can forget about my accident. Life'll never stop... unless, you know, I die. But let's pray that won't happen, of course." Then she poked her food.

"Uh, Quinn?"

Rachel and Quinn looked up. It was Sam. Quinn smiled. To her, he was absolutely cute. He always was, though. "Hey, Sam. Want to join? It's a free table. And by the way, you won't get slushied here or anything."

Sam took a seat. "So, Quinn, what's new with you? Are you seeing someone?"

Quinn and Rachel stared at each other. What an odd question. "No, Sam, I don't think she is," Rachel said, nudging her friend playfully. "I think she still has feelings for someone here though..." Quinn shot her a dagger look. "Let Quinn answer," Sam blurted out.

"No, Sam," Quinn replied calmly. "I mean... you know, after everything... but I'm not saying I'll never love again. I just need some time for myself."

"So you're not saying no?" Sam asked excitedly. He was being less than subtle.

Quinn shook her head happily, and Sam was quietly chanting, "Yes!" It was like watching a wedding proposal.

But not everyone was happy about it.

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