Heading over to the Cheerio booth, Rachel had two goals in mind: 1, to interrogate whoever was selling the product in an attempt to figure out who planted the note and 2, to buy an actual stick of chapstick. Her lips would soon be suffering if she didn't and she refused to even consider the fact that part of her worry was because apparently someone was looking.
Ignoring those thoughts in the back of her head, Rachel looked ahead as the booth came into view and sighed in relief. It appeared as though the same people were working as when she had bought the original tube. She recognized Santana and Brittany, but the other brunette was nameless to her. While Rachel thought that her name might be Alex, she couldn't say for sure. The Cheerios were not a topic she and Quinn discussed very often.
When she had been in class, she'd spent most of her thoughts on how to approach the group. She had a few scenarios in her head but, by the time she reached the front of the small line, she found her courage was distinctly lacking. It wasn't that she was scared of Santana, per se. Quinn had pointed out many a time that the Latina was harmless. Rachel just preferred to be cautious.
"You just gonna stand there, Hobs?" Santana looked less than impressed and Rachel felt what little determination she'd built up begin to dwindle. Shifting on her feet in an attempt to reinforce some of her motivation, Rachel cleared her throat and looked back at the intimidating Cheerio.
"Well, Santana, I actually came here as an unsatisfied customer." She hated that there was one thing she absolutely couldn't control when she was nervous—her rambling. It was fortunate that everyone already thought she talked a lot, so she thought maybe Santana wouldn't notice. "You see, earlier I purchased this tube of chapstick due to the decreasing temperatures outside. I find chapped lips seem to mesh with singing and, though I've been drinking plenty of water, it never hurts to be extra prepared."
Rachel reached into the back pocket in her jeans and retrieved the tiny bottle. Taking off the cap, she showed the bored-looking girl the hollowness. "However, when I went to use it, I found it was empty. Thus, I am here to seek reimbursement."
"It was completely empty?" Santana asked in reply, confusing Rachel. It was weird, the way the other girl had emphasized the word "completely." There was just enough vocal play on the word that Rachel thought she might know more, but not enough to say for certain. One thin eyebrow was raised and Rachel wondered if all of the Cheerios had perfected the art—because Quinn certainly had, too.
Rachel stumbled over her words. "Well, I guess…" She tried to find something in Santana's features that would tell her what the right answer was. She wasn't sure whether to lie but her decision was made at Santana's complete neutrality. Something about the way Santana seemed too nonchalant about the whole ordeal stuck out to Rachel and the singer instantly became suspicious of the girl in front of her. It seemed that the Cheerio might know something, or that she at least knew more than Rachel thought she did. She resolved that lying would not get her anywhere, so she instead decided to play clueless. "There was this piece of paper in there, but I have no idea what it was for."
Rachel had prepared for two outcomes: Santana would either react strongly to her words or let them breeze past her. The Latina did neither and Rachel found herself wondering just how good of an actress the other girl was.
"Did the paper say anything?" she asked. "I bet there were instructions for how to dress in the morning, seeing as you could use a little help in that department." Dark eyes raked down Rachel's outfit and she blushed. Her choice in clothes last year had been…questionable. But she really couldn't be blamed, seeing as she was too afraid to buy nicer clothes when they'd likely just get stained with Red Dye #40.
"I resent that—my style of fashion has improved greatly from last year."
Santana shrugged and Rachel stomped her foot, unable to control her growing irritation with the Cheerio.
"Can you just give me the chapstick?"
Santana stared at her for a second before smirking and reaching back to grab a stick.
"Looks like the little kitten is finally learning she has claws." She laughed as Rachel swiped the tube from the air after she tossed it to her. The shorter brunette huffed as she turned on her heel and performed a mini storm-out.
It wasn't until Rachel was halfway to her next class that she realized Santana had successfully prevented her interrogation; she hadn't received even the slightest clue about her mystery man.
By the time lunchtime hit, Rachel had no intentions of going to eat with her friends. What she really needed was just some alone time and she was determined to get it. As her schedule would permit, it seemed the only time she had available was now, so she grabbed her lunch from her locker and headed to the auditorium.
There was something about being alone on the stage that left Rachel feeling both comforted and lonesome all at once. Back when she was still being bullied, she'd often find solace under the many lights—it was almost ironic that her hiding space literally put her in the spot light. For some reason, it seemed that her tormentors had never bothered to check the auditorium. Rachel was more than fine having a sanctuary.
She placed her lunch down on the wooden floor before sitting next to it with crossed legs. Though she definitely planned on eating her meal—skipping it would be much too unhealthy—she found she didn't really have an appetite. Rather, her thoughts were eating away at her.
It was burdensome, all of these worries that picked random opportunities to gnaw away at her. It was as if every time she managed to put those thoughts about the notes in the back of her mind, they'd find a way back to the front. It was infuriating, really.
She supposed the notes were romantic, in a way. Yet, seeing as she could literally see no one as an option, they were starting to bug her. Why did the mystery guy have to be so mysterious? And why hadn't she met him or talked to him before? And, if he was supposedly in love with her, why didn't he just ask her out?
Was it because of her old reputation?
She waved the thought away the moment after she thought it. Quinn and Noah had done everything in their power to prevent her freshman year from coming back to haunt her. She hated it, but part of Rachel wished they could take the memories, too. She remembered telling Quinn it was just more fodder for her future autobiography, and an example of how she overcame a hard trial of her life.
She also remembered going home in tears nearly every day.
Which was probably a huge reason this whole note situation was bothering her. If it wasn't having been deemed a loser her freshman year, then what was it? What could possibly be keeping the boy away?
Rachel vaguely wondered if maybe the idea was for him to reveal himself with the last note. She paused her thinking process, deciding to imagine that situation, as it seemed to be a pretty good scenario. The notes were always left somewhere that related to the words, but maybe he'd be holding the last one. Or, maybe there would be a note that said "Turn around," and she would, and he would be right there.
Then it hit Rachel—what if she wasn't attracted to him? What if it was a boy that had made fun of her? She thought she might actually die if it was someone like Karofsky.
That would be horrid. Then again, she figured that everyone was worth a shot. Especially someone who had set everything up. The set-up was not so easily arranged and, though it annoyed the diva on occasion, she could appreciate how elaborate it all was. She just really hated surprises.
Rachel sighed, her head resting on her left fist. Though it was completely unsanitary, her right hand was drawing shapes on the stage floor. Looking at the clock, she realized a little over fifteen minutes had passed and she really needed to start eating her lunch.
Not actually making a move to bring her bag in front of her, Rachel wondered what her father had made that day. She had been running late and hadn't had time to pack it herself, so her daddy had kindly offered. The only downside was that he wasn't the best with food—that was her dad's job. Still, it was lunch and she'd love him no matter what. Unless his food killed her, then she'd haunt him.
Just as she reached for the brown bag, Rachel caught the flash of light from the back of the room. Her back straightened, wary of whoever had just entered. She was usually the only one to enter the auditorium, so anyone else was almost considered an intruder in her book. However, as the door closed, she relaxed—the familiar head of blonde headed in her direction was easily recognizable. Lunch bag in hand, she started pulling out her meal as Quinn made her way down.
Once the Cheerio came to a stop at the base of the stage, she silently rested her arms on the stage floor and her chin on the tops of her hands. Rachel watched as her friend looked down, almost as if nervous, before she looked back up.
"Hey," she greeted, and Rachel wished she could turn the lights down a bit because they suddenly felt a little too bright, a little too warm. Everyone always joked about how she liked to be the center of attention but, with just her and Quinn in the room, is was more uncomfortable than anything else.
"Hello, Quinn. What brings you here?" Rachel was confused because Quinn hardly ever came to the auditorium for lunch. The blonde always said she liked the continuous buzz in the cafeteria, and how it would never be silent. They both tended to overthink a lot, and Rachel always thought it was funny that they seemed to need opposite environments for when they did.
"Well, my best friend decided to go AWOL during lunch, so I figured I'd better go check to see that she's still alive," Quinn said as she gave the smaller girl a pointed look.
A small wave of guilt washed over the shorter girl as she realized that she hadn't really informed anyone that she would be missing lunch. Her table had probably wondered what had happened to her, seeing as she always announced when she would be skipping lunch to practice instead.
"Yes, well, I wasn't quite up to dealing with our peers today. I think I just wanted some peace to think for a little bit."
It was a risk, telling Quinn she just wanted to think. There was the chance that Quinn would want to know what was bothering her, and Rachel still felt hesitant about telling her friend about the notes. Even though she hated lying, she felt it was a little too late at this point to tell Quinn without hurting her even more than she would by not telling her at all. Besides, Rachel doubted anything would come of the letter anyway.
"Oh." Quinn straightened. "Did you want me to leave?" She already looked ready to take off by the time Rachel caught up to the implication. There was a slight frown on her forehead and Rachel wondered if Quinn was trying to figure out if she'd done something wrong. The shorter girl felt like an idiot, having phrased it the way she did.
"What? No, of course not," she exclaimed, not realizing how loud it would sound in the echo. She cleared her throat, blush adorning her features; the lights really were hot. She had done her thinking and, had Quinn arrived a few minutes earlier, Rachel didn't know what her answer would've been. But as she was, the brunette was more than happy to spend her lunch with just her friend. "Are you going to come up here or not?"
Quinn's shoulders visibly relaxed and Rachel felt a smile take place at her friend's actions. She was confused when Quinn took a few steps back and, for a brief second, she thought her friend had chosen to leave. Before she could truly question it, the other girl ran the few steps forward and hoisted herself over the stage. Rachel wondered if she would be able to do the same thing and promised to try next time—with Quinn spotting her of course. She didn't want to fall and break her talent, after all.
"I thought you'd never ask," Quinn said as she sat across from Rachel and stole a celery stick. The glare Rachel sent in response proved ineffective as the blonde only ended up grabbing another one.
"If you keep stealing my food, I might just wish I hadn't." Rachel said it jokingly as she reached back into her bag, but she wavered as Quinn responded. Whatever her friend had replied back with was lost to the singer as all of her focus was on the small piece of paper she saw at the bottom.
#6 She's a vegan
"Rachel?" She heard, hoping it was the first time Quinn had said her name.
Refraining from visibly shaking off her shock, the brunette looked over at her friend with as much nonchalance as she could manage. She'd managed to avoid telling Quinn thus far and, for the first time, she thought her mystery man had the worst timing.
"How can I help you?" the brunette asked, trying to play it off as a joke.
It really freaked Rachel out that someone had gotten into her lunch bag. The bag had been in her locker the entire day, which meant that—not only had this guy found his way into her car—he'd also gotten into her locker. Her locker that was equipped with a combination lock.
Her suspicions of someone helping him suddenly found their way to the forefront of Rachel's mind. Only a few people knew her combo—Quinn, Noah, and Kurt. Kurt didn't even go to their school anymore, so he was out of the question. Noah had seemed genuinely surprised and hesitant at the notes, so Rachel mentally crossed him off as well.
That left the girl across from her. The girl who looked as if she didn't know how to respond. Rachel celebrated her small mental victory of knocking the Queen off her game before realizing that the blonde was potentially part of the whole scheme.
"Is there a spider in your bag or something?" Quinn asked. "You looked panicked for a second." Did Quinn know? If Rachel was right, then Quinn would've been the one to put the note there.
Rachel laughed for two reasons: one being that she would've been way more dramatic had there been a spider in her bag, and two being that she was playing off of Quinn's apparent cluelessness.
"There's just a note in my bag, from my father. I forgot he still does that sometimes."
The Cheerio's eyebrows came together in confusion as she took another bite of celery that wasn't hers. "Then why did you look so freaked out?" Rachel hesitated. She really had no proof that it was Quinn who had planted the note. In fact, she had more than enough proof to detest the fact.
First, Quinn would have told Noah because she knew her two best friends refused to let her date anyone they didn't jointly approve of. Seeing as Noah had seemed clueless, Rachel was led to believe that Noah had been told nothing. And that had to mean that there was nothing to be told. Second, Quinn's involvement would mean the blonde knew the person; if Quinn knew the person, then it was likely that Rachel did, too. And Rachel had already crossed off most of the people she knew. She still had a small hope for it to be Jesse. Third…well, there was no third.
But, as Rachel looked into her best friend's eyes, she couldn't find a real reason to believe she had anything to do with the notes. Or maybe she just didn't want to believe it. Because believing it would mean that Quinn could, and did, lie to her. She chose to ignore the thoughts of hypocrisy in her head that told her she was capable of lying to her friend just the same.
"Well, before I realized it was my father's handwriting, I considered all of the possibilities. What if the note was from a murderer? Or a stalker?" Rachel's eyes widened as the latter option was actually a possibility. If Quinn really wasn't involved, then it was likely that someone knew way too much information about her. She decided to backtrack to give herself some piece of mind. "Or Santana with her words of wisdom?"
Quinn laughed and Rachel fought herself over whether to feel good or bad about the lie. In the end, it wasn't hurting Quinn, but it was hurting their friendship.
"I highly doubt Santana would ever leave a note in your lunch. I'm pretty sure she has an irrational fear of vegan food."
Rachel huffed. "That girl eats Sue Sylvester's Cheerio diet and she's afraid of vegetables?"
Quinn's shoulders lifted before promptly falling back down. "I never said she made sense."
"You must think you're so clever, Lopez." Hand on her hip, Rachel's posture held all of the confidence that the girl herself didn't.
After lunch with Quinn, the brunette had gone about her day as usual with only one disturbance. During her last class of the day before Glee, she'd finally decided to use the chapstick she'd purchased. Luckily, there had been actual chapstick in it this time. It wasn't until she uncapped and applied it that Rachel was aware of what the Latina had done.
Santana looked away from her conversation with Brittany with an amused smile on her face, one that quickly faded as she stared down the girl in front of her. Instead, a smirk graced the girl's features. For a moment, Rachel second-guessed her decision to confront the Latina before Quinn had arrived. "I don't think it, dwarf, I know it."
Rachel felt her nostrils flare, though she wasn't sure if her irritation was at the nickname or the cocky attitude. She really wasn't that short of stature, seeing as Santana was only a few inches taller.
She decided it was definitely the attitude.
The nicknames she was used to, but it wasn't often that she would converse with the Latina, so the upfront attitude was new to her. Yet, Rachel found she had interacted with the other girl more times in the last two weeks than she had all last year.
"Very Berry? Please, a five year old could be as clever."
"What's Rachel talking about, San?" Rachel watched as Brittany touched her hand to Santana's shoulder and her eyebrows furrowed. She was curious if Brittany was always that touchy with the other girl. Then again, she remembered that Brittany was a very physical person, and Rachel had been hug-attacked on more than one occasion.
It was hard to keep up an attitude with Brittany in the conversation, so Rachel sighed and resigned to her fate. She should never have given it an attempt in the first place.
"Berry was just thanking me for the chapstick I gave her earlier, B." The darker Cheerio gave Rachel a pointed look, not that she needed to seeing as everyone and their mother knew not to mess with Brittany.
"Did you give her the Very Berry like I told you to?" Brittany asked, and Rachel cringed.
"Yeah, B. She loves it, right Hobbit?"
The diva was about to respond when, just in time, Mr. Shuester entered the room and announced the start of the day's meeting. She gave the blonde Cheerio a genuine smile, ignored Satan, and headed over to her seat mildly perturbed that Quinn was still absent. Of course, the blonde chose that moment to enter the room, a light sheen of sweat coating her skin.
Rachel merely gave the blonde a questioning look as she sat down, waiting for an explanation.
"Sue," Quinn stated, not choosing to elaborate much to Rachel's disappointment. The brunette gave her friend the benefit of the doubt, figuring she would just tell her about it later.
It turned out that Coach Sylvester had ordered Quinn to move all of the Cheerio trophies from the glass cabinet in her room to a new glass cabinet—that the coach had demanded Figgins order—in a hallway at the opposite end of the school. Sue had then timed her, only to decide that the student body was unworthy of seeing the trophies of the Cheerios' excellence. Quinn was then expected to move them all back…in half the time.
Rachel had absolutely no idea how the woman had found her way into the education system—she was a legitimate psychopath.
She also had no idea why Quinn was targeted, until the blonde informed her they were going to the mall after school.
"But you have Cheerios practice!" If Sue had made Quinn run pointless errands for no reason, Rachel could only imagine what she would do if Quinn skipped. She didn't even have to imagine, technically, seeing as she'd heard stories about other girls who had skipped. The brunette shuddered, recalling stories of PTSD and mangled limbs. She didn't necessarily believe the latter rumors, but she was too afraid not to.
"Have you even been listening to me?" Quinn asked, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading towards the exit. Rachel immediately pushed off of the locker she was leaning on and followed. "I just explained that I got out of it."
Rachel hummed in response, connecting the punishment to the ability to miss practice. Her mind had been cloudy for most of the day.
As they both headed to the blonde's car, Rachel realized something.
"Is that why you offered to drive me today?" That would mean that Quinn had planned this all day, and it wasn't some spontaneous trip.
Rachel might not have thought anything much of the situation if her friend hadn't mhmm'd as an answer and avoided her gaze. She realized she did have a third reason to believe Quinn had nothing to do with the notes: the blonde was horrid at lying to her and hiding things.
"Quinn," she stated, waiting for the other girl to meet her gaze.
Her friend stayed uncharacteristically strong for the duration of the trip, managing to avoid looking at Rachel even when she turned the radio to some weird techno station. The brunette huffed—Quinn hated techno.
Once the car was parked outside of the mall and Quinn had the key in her hands, and hand on the door, the blonde finally looked over.
"Are you coming?"
Rachel just stared at her in disbelief. The blonde was most definitely up to something, that much was obvious. She wouldn't have kept the reason for their unplanned trip a secret otherwise.
"What do you have planned?" The brunette crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her chin up—she would not be fooled by her friend's pout that was sure to come. She wouldn't.
"Rach," Quinn whined, but the brunette heard the play in it. "Can't you just trust me?"
Rachel refused to give in to the tone, instead choosing to watch the outside world. Snow still had yet to fall, but the wind was picking up and a few trees were being blown every which way. A group of girls was running from the parking lot, and the brunette noticed the coats and scarves most of them were wearing.
Mentally cursing at herself, Rachel realized she'd left her sweater in her locker at school. She must have been too distracted with Quinn's story to notice the chill outside when they had left.
With a sigh, Rachel looked over at the blonde and prepared herself. Just as she thought, the expression on Quinn's face was ridiculous.
"It's cold outside."
"Well," Quinn drawled. "It's a good thing the mall is inside then, huh?"
"You made me forget my sweater." Rachel stuck her lower lip out, determined to get at least a little pity if she was being forced into whatever debacle Quinn had decided on. She doubted it was anything too awful, but part of her feared she'd end up in the movie theater seeing the latest horror flick. Again.
Quinn had a knack for being the worst best friend in the world, sometimes.
As if having predicted this outcome, the blonde reached into her back seat and handed Rachel a random hoodie. Eyeing it, the singer noticed the Cheerios logo on it and rolled her eyes. Quinn knew it was her favorite hoodie—she'd threatened to steal it on more than one occasion. After all, the Cheerios spared no expense when it came to merchandise…and it was possibly the softest hoodie Rachel had ever worn in her entire life.
"Oh, look at you being all cute with your attempt to butter me up with your Cheerios hoodie." Rachel noted her friend's slight blush at the words and figured it was over being caught. "Well, Quinn Fabray, I am not the kind of girl to be swayed by nice things."
Quinn narrowed her eyes, sighed, and stepped out of the car.
"I never said you were. However, if you're not coming, I'll just shop by myself," she said. The door closed and Rachel scoffed.
There was no way Quinn would just leave Rachel in the car, so the brunette decided to call her bluff. Quinn knew she hated being alone in parking lots—it only led to kidnappers and murderers and terrible endings.
Sure, the blonde constantly mocked her overactive imagination, but she knew that Rachel couldn't help it. Surely, she wouldn't abandon her.
Rachel watched as the other girl kept walking, never looking back. Her blonde hair was flying in every direction with the wind and it would have been funny if the sun hadn't chosen that moment to rest behind a cloud. The wind passing by the windows suddenly sounded more sinister than refreshing. Quickly, she decided it wasn't worth the risk and she shoved the sweater over her head as she scrambled out of the car, calling after her friend.
"You will not leave me here to die, Quinn Fabray!" It was even colder outside than she thought it would be, and she blamed it on the sudden shade. The wind was strong enough that she felt her steps were uneven and she found herself happy to be heading towards the mall—at least it would be warm.
"You didn't even last a whole minute!" the other girl called over her shoulder. Rachel forced herself to give Quinn that one, seeing as it was true, and decided she would only sulk for a few minutes once they were inside.
Just as she was about to catch up, she stuck her hands in the pocket of the hoodie to keep them warm. Something tickled the back of her hand and she maneuvered her hand to grab it, pulling it out so she could hand whatever it was to Quinn. She looked down at it just as she was about to grab her friend's attention and her voice stuck in her throat.
#7 Her hugs are better than any sweater.
The blonde continued walking, oblivious to the fact that Rachel was no longer following. Rachel, on the other hand, stared ahead and really started to wonder what the hell was going on.