Author's note: reviews won't usually be this quick...you guys are lucky I happened to already have most of this written. Yea. Thanks for reviews I've gotten so far!
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When Rachel and Quinn entered seventh grade, an eighth grade boy named Tucker Prince told Rachel he liked her. He was dorky but cute, not quite as committed to school as her but President of the Drama Club, and therefore when he asked her to be his girlfriend she said yes. His popularity level was slightly higher than hers, and so when they became an item, Rachel's popularity went from less than low to just low. It was a strange improvement, and Quinn wasn't sure how she felt about it.
Well, that was a lie. She knew how she felt about it. She HATED it. Not that Rachel was slightly more poplar (all that really meant was that Quinn didn't have to sneakily threaten people who picked on Rachel behind her back quite as much), but she hated Tucker.
His face was too big, his eyes were too green, and he always wore the same stupid pair of black converse every day. Quinn would never mention the fact that she had bought the exact same pair the week before, but promptly thrown them into the depths of her closet after realizing she and Rachel's boyfriend matched.
They matched. What kind of sick joke was that?
Or, whatever. It's not like Quinn cared or anything.
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When Quinn became the only seventh grader in the history of the middle school to become the captain of the cheerleading squad, strange things started happening to Tucker Prince.
On the Tuesday of Rachel and Tucker's one week anniversary (Rachel had made gold star bracelets for them to wear for the day), Tucker was minding his own business on the way to class when he found himself unceremoniously dumped into a nearby trashcan by three of the eighth grade football players. They said his sweater was threat to the school's mental and physical health.
For their one month anniversary, Tucker bought Rachel a hand designed mug that said "I love my boyfriend" with a picture of his beaming face on the side. Two days later it had mysteriously vanished from her locker, and although she'd never admit it, Rachel was mildly relieved. Not that she hadn't loved the mug. It was a very thoughtful gift, of course. Just a little bit…well, let's put it this way. The only person's face she thought should be plastered on dinnerware was her own - when she was a Broadway star, of course.
After three months, Tucker was used to bringing a change of clothes to school in case he was in the vicinity of trashcans, toilets or lunch trays and football players simultaneously. Strangely enough he still hadn't hit the label "outcast" yet due to his pull with the Drama Club and his MILDY (Quinn relented to herself while glaring at him during math class) charming personality. Damn him and his perfect hair.
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Rachel came home after theatre practice on a Monday to find Quinn sitting primly on her bed. She was in her Cheerios uniform, her face still flushed from practice. Rachel came to an abrupt halt, almost running into the door frame in surprise. Once she'd caught her breath she entered her room, flattening her skirt nervously as she went.
"Hello, Quinn," she said quietly, going to set her bag down at her desk.
"Stop seeing Tucker."
Rachel spun around, startled once again.
"What?"
"Stop seeing him," Quinn repeated, but this time instead of demanding it, to Rachel it sounded more like she was pleading. Her Quinn was back.
"Why?" Rachel asked softly.
"I don't like him," Quinn muttered, avoiding Rachel's eyes. "He's weird."
"He's not weird, Quinn, he's a perfect gentleman. I enjoy spending time with him, and contrary to popular belief your opinion isn't going to just change that," Rachel sniffed, sitting down in her own chair. She wrinkled her nose slightly. "Although I don't understand why he keeps ending up in trashcans."
At this point Quinn looked up, ignoring Rachel's last comment. "But I'm you're best friend."
"My secret best friend," Rachel whispered, but Quinn heard her before Rachel raised her voice again. "At least Tucker isn't afraid to talk to me in front of the rest of the world. He isn't afraid to let everyone know that he cares about me."
Quinn knew it was true, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
"I still care," she said softly, glancing at Rachel before looking away again. Rachel felt the familiar nauseating feeling she got every time Quinn looked at her like that starting to creep up. She tried to push it away. Tucker. Tucker cared about her.
When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn stood up in a huff.
"Ever since you started dating him, it's like I don't matter anymore!" she growled, starting to pace angrily next to Rachel's bed.
"That's ridiculous," Rachel shot back before she could stop herself.
Quinn stopped short. "What?"
"Nothing."
"What'd you say, Berry," Quinn demanded, and suddenly Rachel broke.
"You always matter, Quinn! And I wouldn't be afraid to show it, but ever since we've been six it's like I'm your dirty little secret!" she spat, out of nowhere suddenly close to tears. Suddenly she was back at recess, behind the school on the blacktop. All she wanted was to feel Quinn's arms around her. She wanted to feel safe. Loved. She wanted to kiss Quinn again like that day in the third grade.
Rachel shook her head violently at the thought. No, she couldn't want that.
"Shut up!" Quinn shouted.
"Why? So you can make fun of me more? So you can laugh at me and be popular while everyone thinks I'm nothing? So you can have boys all over you but I can't?" Rachel cried.
"Because I love you!" Quinn burst out, and then promptly slapped her hands over her mouth. She couldn't believe she'd just said that. This was not how this was supposed to go.
Rachel's mouth snapped shut, and once again all she could do was stare.
After what seemed like an eternity, Rachel blinked.
"Quinn…" she started, but Quinn's hand flew out.
"Break up with him," she said, her voice so calm it was eerie, "or I'll never speak to you again."
There was silence for what seemed like hours. Quinn couldn't breathe. If she moved a muscle, she would fall apart. When she heard Rachel finally move to stand, she willed herself to look up.
"No."
And Quinn walked out. She walked out without looking back, without letting a single one of the tears in her eyes fall; without kissing the girl she'd been in love with since she knew what the word meant.
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