Most of Quinn's afternoon classes were spent trying to come up with a plan for operation Berry Begone. She was on her way to Glee when a binder sailed past her, exploding against a locker and showering the hall with paper.
Sounds like someone's still upset about losing nationals...
She glanced over her shoulder, suspicions confirmed. Coach Sylvester was angrily flinging the contents of an innocent student's locker onto the ground. A concerned member of the faculty briefly stretched out a hand, as though to calm the enraged woman and stop her rampage, but quickly retracted their arm and ducked into a classroom after watching her wrench a young man by the collar and stuff him into girls' bathroom. Quinn stared a moment too long and accidentally made eye contact with her former mentor.
"You!" Sue bellowed.
She winced and turned around fully. "Yes, Coach?"
In traversing the twenty feet between them, Coach Sylvester managed to knock down two bystanders and tear up a terrified freshman's homework assignment. "Nobody walks away from Sue Sylvester. You and your little scab-eating Glee pals better start sleeping with one eye open, Fabray. Fair warning, I was just on my way to see Principal Figgins about having your little back-up band expelled for an unauthorized jam session I had the privilege of busting."
"I don't understand," Quinn said slowly.
Sue flared her nostrils, "I always knew what that jazz band really was—an opium den. Good luck finding anything instrumental to cover up that tragic cacophony you call singing." Feeling her taunt needed no further explanation, she shouldered the blonde and carried on terrorizing the student body.
Oh my goodness, that woman is insane. Quinn shook her head and continued her trek to the choir room. I can't believe I used to take orders from her.
She spotted Mr. Schuester up ahead and called out to him.
"Mr. Schue!"
He turned around searching for the source of his name. His eyes fell on Quinn and he smiled, "Hey, Quinn. Ready for Glee?"
She nodded, "Yeah. I thought maybe I should warn you," his face fell and his eyebrows pinched together, "Coach Sylvester just said something about going to see Principal Figgins... ."
That's it! I know how to get Rachel kicked off the team. All I have to do is-
Mr. Schue turned his head slightly, "Did she say what about?"
"What? Oh. Um, yes! Sorry. She said something about catching the jazz band with drugs. You should probably head her off, she's trying to make it so we don't have any music, I guess."
"Dang it," he said softly. He glanced off in the distance and then back at Quinn, "I better take care of this. Get the kids started without me. Have them do warm-ups, maybe some runs. I will be back as soon as I can." He left without waiting for confirmation.
When she arrived at the door to the choir room, she paused and looked in through the small window. Rachel was talking animatedly to Mike and Tina, who were listening with polite, slightly uncomfortable smiles.
I've got you cornered, Berry.
Smirking, she slipped into the room.
A gentle knock sounded on Principal Figgins' door. He looked at it warily. Relief flooded him when he saw it was just a student and not a return visit from Sue.
"Come in!"
Quinn entered and sat down, "Hello Principal Figgins, I was hoping to talk with you about the football team."
"Wasn't that game fantastic? We made $717.85 off the concessions alone!" he said, smiling broadly.
She quirked an eyebrow, "Uh, that sounds … good?"
Nodding enthusiastically, he pulled a small pad of paper forward, "And, if you include the ticket sales, our prof-"
"Actually, sir, I have a concern over one of the players." He appeared a little dejected at not being able to share his financial excitement with someone, but waved for her to continue. "You see, Coach Beiste has recently made Rachel Berry, a girl, the quarterback."
"I see," he cupped his chin. "That's very uncommon, isn't it? We could us that to promote the games, increase attendance."
She interrupted his train of thought, "Aren't you concerned about lawsuits?"
This got his attention. "Pardon?"
Going in for the kill...
"What will the school do when she's injured? Believe me, she will get hurt. The girl is very petite. Can the school afford the lawsuits her parents are sure to bring? What happens if she suffers a serious injury, say, to the spinal chord?" Quinn flashes back briefly to her earlier conversation with Rachel, "Or if she ends up comatose? Can you afford to pay for her to be on life support for the next sixty years? Principal Figgins, I think it's for the good of the school that you intervene here."
Legal action, bad publicity and loss of money. If this were a game of darts, I would have sunk all three shots right in the bull's-eye just now.
Figgins's eyes were wide and he was anxiously twirling a pen. "Goodness gracious, young lady. You are correct! I need to speak with Shannon right now, excuse me." He shot out of his chair and the office.
I'm a genius.
She smiled to herself all the way home.
"You seem to be in a cheery mood. Good day at school?" Judy asked before taking a bite of green beans.
Quinn looked up from her plate, "What do you mean?"
"Well, you were humming earlier and you seem, I don't know, relaxed."
"Oh," she shrugged, "school was pretty good, I guess." There weren't really words to express her joy over crushing Rachel's success and maneuvering herself one step closer to prom queen. So she filled her mouth with mashed potato instead of elaborating.
"I see," the older woman took a sip of water. Making conversation with teenagers can be a chore, and she knows it, so she doesn't let her daughter's terseness deter her. "How's Sam doing?"
Quinn's nose wrinkled in thought. How is he doing? I don't even ask him anymore. He really deserves a more attentive girlfriend. I'll almost be doing him a favor when I break up with him. The reflection on their relationship makes her frown. Her eyes dart over to her mother, still waiting patiently for an answer.
"He's fine."
Judy raises an eyebrow, a genetic gift of incredulity inherited by all women in their family. "Uh huh." She watches as her daughter picks up the pace eating her dinner, assuming correctly that it's in an effort to talk less and be excused from the table all the sooner. "Sweetie, can I ask you something?"
Quinn freezes and quietly offers up, "Sure, Mom."
"Are you happy?"
It was the kind of question Quinn would have automatically lied about a year ago and definitely not something her parents would have asked her with any kind of sincerity. Her hands retreat to her lap, where she nervously pulls at the hem of her napkin.
How do I even answer that?
Judy's expression turns earnest, "Quinnie, I know life at your age can be...stressful." Quinn stiffened, her face forming a scowl. "Really, it can be stressful at any age, but youth is a particularly confusing time. I just want to make sure that you're-"
"Not having sex with my boyfriend?" the younger girl crossed her arms, defenses up.
Her mother shook her head, "That is not what I was going to say. This family is terrible at communication."
"And that's my fault?"
"Quinn, stop it," she shot her daughter a warning look. "Please listen to me." Quinn raised her chin, but stayed quiet as asked. "Your father and I are to blame for that. Both of us. All I'm trying to say is that you can talk to me. About anything. Good things and bad things. I want to know what's going on in your life and not just so I can brag about you at the country club." Quinn's eyes soften at this. "I'm still going to brag about you," Judy smiled, "But I want to know because I care about you. Do you understand?"
Quinn nodded.
Her mother sighs, "Far too much time has been spent in this house ignoring feelings and I want that to end."
A small silence follows. Quinn considers her mother's words and comes to a decision.
"I quit the Cheerios to be in Glee club."
The incident from last week had still be weighing on her mind, so Judy snaps up the subject immediately, "Why not do both?"
The scowl is back on, but this time it's for someone else. "Coach Sylvester hates Glee club. She told us we had to pick one or the other. At first, I thought I wanted to be a Cheerio. I know I want to be a Cheerio, but... ."
"But you wanted to be in Glee club more?"
"I can't explain it. I'm sorry."
Judy shook her head gently and extended her hand across the dining table, which Quinn took. "If it makes you happy, then I want you to do it. Nothing more need be said. You made the right choice, sweetie." She squeezed her daughter's hand and released it. "Now get going on those green beans, don't think I didn't notice you haven't touched them yet."
Quinn grinned at her mom and shoved a forkful of the veggies into her mouth, putting on her most intense fake grimace.
I can't believe how easy that was. Quit the Cheerios? Eat some green beans. Divorce rules.
It was a beautiful Wednesday morning. After the conversation with her mom and a good night's sleep paired with her nemesis' inevitable downfall, it didn't seem like anything could ruin her day. She passed the school's administrative offices and saw, as if on cue, Rachel being ushered along by Principal Figgins.
Is it sick to hum "Don't Rain on My Parade?" Poor Berry, she'll probably be crushed. Too bad I have class, otherwise I could stand around and wait for her to commit one of her infamous storm-outs. I always have to bite my tongue when she stamps her feet. Like anyone could take her seriously? It makes her look-
"Cute."
Quinn startled, "What?"
Brittany smiled at her, "Your headband. It's really cute. Where did you get it?"
"Oh," she reached up absentmindedly, "Mom found it for me at that vintage place on Main Street."
"Cool, that's where I got my hat!" the taller girl points to her fur-lined, earflap hat.
Quinn gives the hat a once-over and chuckles, "Very stylish, Brit."
"Getting to wear our regular clothes is my favorite part about not being a Cheerio." Brittany pauses, face turning serious. "Well, I guess my favorite-favorite part is being in Glee, but not wearing the uniform every day is my second favorite."
Patting her friend's arm, she says, "Me, too. Wanna walk to class?"
"Yeah!"
Quinn listens idly while Brittany talks more about clothes, but her mind continues to drift back to Rachel in the principal's office. It doesn't occur to her that the focus of her plan is Finn and yet she hasn't given him a thought since lunch the day before.
Between classes, Quinn sees a heated exchange going on between Finn and Rachel by the diva's locker.
This must be it. She smiles, feeling victorious. Berry is probably freaking out right now about no longer being the quarterback. I bet Finn is getting an earful.
Finn throws his hands up defensively as Rachel agitatedly emphasizes whatever point she happens to be making by repeatedly jabbing her finger into her palm. Quinn's smile grows.
How were they ever a couple? It's like oil and water. I guess Finn would be the oil, since he's the thick one. Wait, what's that?
Rachel shoves a small green box into Finn's stomach before slamming her locker shut and walking away. She breezes right past Quinn, clearly still livid, but doesn't make eye contact.
Wow, she is really pissed.
Turning around, she sees the brunette disappear into a restroom.
Hmm. I could be a few minutes late to history. It would totally be worth it to watch Berry break down.
She clicks her own locker shut and heads toward the bathroom. When she steps inside, she immediately sees Rachel at the far sink, splashing water on her face. Pulling a paper towel from the dispenser, she pats her face dry and turns to look at Quinn.
No tears?
"Can I help you with something, Quinn?"
Oops, stared too long.
"No," Quinn turns to the first sink and makes to wash her hands.
"You really came in here just to wash your hands?"
"What does it look like, Berry?"
Rachel wads up the paper towel and walks it over to the trash can. She turns to face Quinn again, hands on her hips, "Contrary to what you may think, I am not dumb. You clearly followed me in here. What do you want?"
I really did not think this through. If I come right out and ask about football, she's going to know it was me that went to Figgins.
"Fine," she shakes the water from her hands and hastily snaps off a towel to dry them. "I saw you arguing with Finn and wanted to know what happened."
The other girl eyes her warily, "While I did, in fact, have an altercation with Finn, I don't see how that's any of your business."
"This is high school, everybody is in everybody's business."
"It wasn't about you, if that's why you're asking."
Quinn puts on her most innocent expression, "Oh? What was it about?"
"If you must know, Finn was patronizing me."
That...doesn't sound like it has anything to do with being cut from the football team.
"Patronizing you?"
The smaller girl lets out a huff and folds her arms across her chest. "He said he wanted to apologize for the other day at football practice. He was doing an adequate job before he unceremoniously shoved his foot so far into his mouth I'm surprised he didn't wretch as a result."
Quinn barked out a laugh before she could stop herself, covering her mouth immediately afterward. She cleared her throat, "How did he do that?"
"He told me he shouldn't have gotten so mad over my playing in the Lima Bowl because the football part 'doesn't really mean anything' since it's a school spirit competition."
Well, that's kind of accurate. Lima Bowl was a longstanding rivalry game between the McKinley Titans and the Elida Bulldogs. It's an end-of-season football game, held the first Friday before Valentine's Day, where the school with the best demonstration of spirit and most exciting half-time show won the right to hold the trophy—a goofy looking cup of fake beans spray-painted with gold chrome. Both school's took it very seriously. It's a tradition, after all. Still, he shouldn't have implied Rachel was only good enough to play in a goof-game.
"When I told him I had every intention of continuing on the team next season he laughed at me. He thought I was kidding. I am a very dedicated person, something which he simply does not understand. I would not have asked to join the team if I didn't want to see it all the way through."
She's talking like she's still on the team.
Quinn pressed, "And then what happened?"
"He 'whatevered' my sentiment and tried to give me a necklace. Apparently, he bought it for me before we broke up and only now thought to give it to me. When I told him I didn't think I could accept it, he accused me of being arrogant and difficult. Can you believe that?"
Her good mood was leaking out her ears. "I can't believe it," she said weakly.
"I know! Then he told me I should just accept his apology and get over it. And I told him I would accept his apology when he recognized me as a valid member of the football team and that's when he told me 'girls shouldn't play football.'"
"He didn't."
"He did! Well, I was so mad, I can't quite remember all the things I told him, but I gave him a piece of my mind and gave him back his ridiculous necklace. Between him and Principal Figgins, my goodness!"
Quinn's eyes refocused, "What happened with Principal Figgins?"
"He tried to tell me I was some sort of insurance risk and that I wasn't allowed to play football. And I told him that under Title IX, if there's no athletic team equivalent for female students, McKinley is required by law to allow me to play on the boys' team and that he'd hear from my fathers if he tried to remove me. What is it with people? Women can do anything that men can do! After this morning, I am more determined than ever to be the best quarterback this school has ever seen."
Oh, dear God.
Rachel was riled up again, breathing heavily. Quinn was silent, struck dumb by the apparent total backfire of her plan. A few moments passed between them and Rachel finally glanced at her watch.
"Well, we should be in class. Thank you for listening, Quinn. I know you don't approve of my being on the team, but I think if you consider what's at stake in so far as standing up for equality, you might feel differently. Now, if you'll excuse me." Rachel walked out, leaving Quinn to stare blankly into the mirror.
"I was just doing what you told me!"
"Oh really? Did I tell you to insult Berry and make an ass of yourself?"
Quinn had Finn backed up against a dead end of bookshelves in the library. His eyes kept darting around, trying and failing to find an escape route.
"You said to get back on Coach Beiste's good side. She told me the first step was to man-up and apologize to Rach, which I did."
"So I heard. Tell me, Finn, how exactly did belittling and dismissing Rachel play into your concept of 'apology?'"
"I didn't-"
"Quiet!"
The pair of them whipped around to see the stern-faced librarian, finger pressed against her lips in admonishment.
Finn started again, whispering, "I didn't do that. At least I didn't mean to. You say meaner stuff to her all the time."
"That's different."
"I-"
"Look, just... " Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just try not to upset her again. I'll have to think of something else."
"Maybe it's not such a big deal. I don't care if I play in the Lima Bowl and I know Coach will put me back on when summer practice starts."
"That's not the point."
Finn scrunched his eyebrows, "It isn't? I thought you were helping me because... Quinn? Hey, Quinn?"
She was already walking away.
Think, think, think. There's got to be a way to keep her out of that game on Friday.
Quinn was laying on the floor of her room, staring at the ceiling, hands resting on her stomach. Her index finger tapped out an anxious rhythm while she pondered her situation.
Maybe if I told her there was an open-call audition for an Off-Broadway play that night... .
Her musings were interrupted by her phone going off. Groaning, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and pulled the cell off her desk. Sam was calling.
"Hey, Sam."
"Hey, babe, you wanna come over and watch a movie?"
"Actually, I'm kind of busy. Homework."
"Really?"
Quinn cringed, "Yeah, sorry. Maybe tomorrow?"
He sighed heavily, "Mandatory practice, can't miss it."
Such is the definition of 'mandatory,' Sam.
"That sucks, we can... " her eyebrows crept up a little, "Wait, did you say mandatory?"
"Yep. Practice the day before a game is always mandatory, otherwise you get benched. Coach's rule."
"That's really... " Wonderful. "...awful. How about we go out after the game Friday?"
"Okay, cool. Good luck with that homework, see you tomorrow."
"Mm hmm, bye."
Quinn was beaming.
She felt a little guilty. Brittany was a sweet girl and it wasn't really fair to suck her into Quinn's private campaign to become prom queen. But after the Finn fiasco, she knew she needed to step up her game.
It's a good plan, she thought to herself. And I can trust Brittany. All we have to do is keep Berry from reaching practice this afternoon. No practice, no game. No game, no QB-status. The hard part is already done, really. Stealing those maintenance keys this morning was tricky stuff.
"Do you want me to explain it again?"
Brittany bit her lip and nodded.
"Okay. After Glee, you ask Rachel to help you find your math book."
"Right."
"And then have her follow you to the custodian's closet next to the art room."
"I've been in there before."
One of Quinn's eyebrows peaked, but she continued. "You ask her to look inside because-"
"Because I'm afraid of the dark and can't go in alone."
"Exactly right, Brit. And then?"
"Then I lock her in and call you."
"Perfect," Quinn smiled at the taller girl.
Brittany frowned a little. "Why are we doing this again?"
"Well, it's a joke." Brittany didn't semm convinced. "Look at it this way, if you heard a really funny story, who would you tell it to?"
"My cat?"
"... And?"
"San?"
"...Anybody else?"
"My friends?"
"Yes! Rachel is our friend and we don't want her to feel left out. Get it?"
Her face was the picture of consternation. "She's not gonna be mad at me, is she?"
"Of course not!" God looks after fools and children, right? "She'll think it's really funny." I am probably going to Hell for this, but at least I'll be wearing a tiara while I'm there. She pressed a small brass-colored key into Brittany's palm and strode away.
The rest of her day had passed agonizingly slowly. The minute hands on every clock in the building seemed to be purposefully dragging. At one point during math, Quinn swore she watched the second hand jump backward two notches before moving forward again. Finally, finally the last bell rang. She made meaningful eye contact with Brittany who saluted, Subtle, Brit, and then she made herself scarce.
Quinn sat in the library, checking her cell phone every few moments. It was almost 3:30 and she still hadn't heard from Brittany. Then, she got a text.
→dont b mad at me k?
She stared down at the screen, dread trickling into her chest.
←Where are you?
→the closet like u said
←Stay put, I'll be right there.
Quinn was moving so fast she slid a little as she came to a halt by the closet door. Brittany was nowhere to be seen. Tentatively, she tried the handle on the door. Locked.
Maybe she pulled it off after all.
Her phone lit up, Brittany's name flashing on the display.
"Where are you?" she whispered into the receiver.
"In the closet."
Quinn's eyes slowly shifted to the door. "Is Berry in there with you?"
A pause, "No."
"The door is locked."
"Yeah, I think it does that on its own."
Her eyelids fluttered shut, "Do you still have the key I gave you?"
"Yeah! I didn't lose it."
Pressing her palm against her forehead, eyes open once more, "Slide it under the door, okay?"
"Okay!" The key shot out from the crack. Quinn bent down to pick it up and unlocked the door. Brittany stepped out. "Hey."
Quinn shut her phone. "Brittany, what happened?"
Still talking into her phone, the taller girl mumbled, "I got confused."
"Where's Berry?"
"She helped me look for a little while, but then she said she had to go to practice." Quinn pressed her lips together, waiting. "And then, I thought, somebody had to be in the closet for the joke to still work. But I forgot I had the key. Then I called you and you let me out. I did okay?"
Quinn reached forward, took Brittany's phone and shut it. "You did great, thanks, B."
"Yay!" Brittany hugged Quinn, took back her phone, and walked away.
Why? Why is this my life?