"Quinn," Rachel called. She elbowed her way through the crowd of students in the hallway, wincing internally at how graceless she felt. Ahead of her, the distinctive shimmer of Quinn's blonde head tilted slightly at Rachel's voice, and then shifted back as she continued silently on her way.
"Quinn," Rachel called out again, exasperation tingeing her voice. She'd been trying to find the opportunity to apologize to the blonde for three days, but Quinn was impressively adept at ducking and weaving, so to speak—especially for being pregnant. With a sigh, Rachel slowed as she watched Quinn join up with Santana, effectively protecting herself from Rachel's attempts; Santana was possibly the only glee member that Rachel was still weary of.
Regardless, Rachel still tried doggedly to talk to Quinn between classes. She finally resorted to manipulating Mr. Schuester into thinking it was a good idea for glee club to work on duets, and that it would be just brilliant if she and Quinn worked together—after all, working on a duet had allowed her shaky-but-growing friendship with Puck to form, so it very well might do the same for her and Quinn. Mr. Schue ate it up and finally, after three days of effort, Rachel found herself face to face with Quinn.
They sat in the band room, six chairs and four music stands separating them. Quinn was perched on the stool for a keyboard, absently running her fingers over the keys; Rachel fidgeted nervously with the metal edge of the music stand in front of her.
"Do you play anymore?" she said eventually, desperate to break the silence. Quinn didn't look up, though her fingers paused over the keys. "I remember you playing when were in grade school," Rachel forged on.
"Not really," Quinn said quietly. "Coach Sylvester recruited me and Brittany in seventh grade, convinced my parents that it was a good idea because I could get a scholarship to college. They ate it up, said I should focus on cheerleading, because I was more likely to get something out of it. They sold the piano so I wouldn't be tempted." She couldn't rein in the sneer in her voice at the last word.
"That's idiotic," Rachel said. "You had great potential. Your parents shouldn't have taken it away from you."
Quinn shrugged. Her fingers danced above the keys, unforgotten melodies playing out in her head.
Rachel gathered her courage, making her way around the six chairs and four music stands until she was standing on the other side of the keyboard from Quinn. She inhaled deeply, knocked out an eight-count in her head, and then exhaled.
"I want to apologize," she said bluntly. "What I said to you the other day was unfair, and uncalled for. I shouldn't have lashed out like I did, and I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings by doing so."
Quinn finally looked up. A sad half-smile quirked her lips, and she raised one eyebrow. "How many times did you practice that in the mirror?" she asked. There was no trace of mockery in her voice.
Rachel blushed, then shrugged. "Once or twice," she said evasively.
"Well, it did you good," Quinn said, her voice matter-of-fact. "Accepted."
"Oh," Rachel said. She had hardly expected it to go so easily, and found herself at a loss. "Okay then." She smoothed her hands over her sweater, just to occupy them. "I guess we should get started. Mr. Schue only gave us an hour."
"Of course," Quinn deadpanned. "Can't let down glee."
"Hey, it's your team, too," Rachel shot back.
"I know," Quinn said, her voice soft. She paused, sliding her fingers along the keys once more, and then pushed herself to her feet and made her way over to where Rachel had taken a seat. "So, Elphaba, what's the plan?"
Rachel smiled and pulled out a notebook full of sheet music, half a dozen brilliant ideas welling in her throat. She only smiled wider when Quinn rolled her eyes mockingly at the sheet music for Wicked.