Chapter Four: Perfect
It was her first day at William McKinley High School and Quinn had gotten up extra early that morning to make sure her appearance was pristine. She brushed her honey blonde hair until it shone like glass and then she tied it back into an immaculate ponytail, taking great care to ensure that not a single strand was out of place. The Proactiv her dermatologist had prescribed had done wonders for her acne, and her skin was flawless as she applied just a little blush and lip gloss, then curled her eyelashes and added a coat of mascara. Her new contact lenses helped a lot - she could actually see what she was doing. She inspected her nose carefully and critically to ensure that any trace of the bruises resulting from her rhinoplasty that summer were healed. There'd been no way she was starting high school anything less than perfect. Middle school had been hell, but Quinn was determined she was going to rule the halls of McKinley High. Everyone would know her name - boys would want to date her, and girls would want to be her.
She had her pick of dresses from her new size two wardrobe (having finally reached her goal weight at the start of the summer), and for her first day of high school she'd chosen a pale yellow tea dress with a lace trim, and a pretty white cardigan. She teamed it with a pair of gold ballet pumps, knowing that she was a little tall for her age and not wanting to accentuate anything that would make her seem different in a bad way - she knew only too well how cruel kids could be if they sensed even a single flaw.
"But you're not Lucy Caboosey any more," she told her reflection in the mirror, as she affixed her new diamond earrings to her earlobes and fastened her gold cross around her slender neck. "You're Quinn Fabray now, and you're going to be on top. You're going to get on the cheerleading squad, and you're going to date a boy on the football team, and you're going to be prom queen. You're going to be perfect." She was a little nervous that classes had already been underway for a week, but she had been adamant that she wouldn't start school until her nose was completely healed, and that had taken a little longer than expected. Her mom had called the school and told them she had the flu and they'd told her to take all the time she needed.
She was still scared that a lot of the other kids would've gone to the same elementary and middle schools and allegiances would already have been formed, but she'd watched from the outside long enough to know that confidence was the key. If you held your head high and acted like you were in control, then people would flock to you like moths to a flame. No one would ever know the miserable friendless little girl she used to be. That was the one saving grace of being a transfer student - the ability to make a fresh start - and Quinn had no intention of wasting the opportunity. Now if only she truly felt confident... then it would have been easy. Tryouts for cheerleading were taking place that afternoon so Quinn had run out of time. She couldn't hide out at home any longer. It was opening night and the curtain was about to rise. She had to make this work.
She needn't have worried. Her classmates were intrigued by their new pretty, blonde, softly spoken classmate with the perfect nose and dazzling smile - the three years of orthodontic work having finally paid off - and they accepted her without question. She sat with a couple of the football players at lunch and she quickly came to realize that her mom had been right when she'd told her that boys were easy to control. A smile and a light hand on the impossibly huge, dark haired boy's forearm as she gazed at him coquettishly from beneath her eyelashes was all it took before he was offering to pay for her lunch, and when she had 'accidentally' brushed up against the boy with the stupid mohawk in the queue, he'd been falling over himself to carry her tray. For the first time in her fourteen years, Quinn felt a sense of power... and she liked it a lot.
As she stood in the gym surrounded by her competition for the cheerleading squad after her first day of classes, Quinn appraised each of the other girls critically. Her mom always looked for flaws in others, and she was always ready to exploit any weaknesses she found. If Quinn wanted to be number one, she knew she'd have to learn to do the same. One girl was a little chubby, another seemed hopelessly uncoordinated as she walked - Quinn had no idea how she would make it through a complicated gymnastic routine. The curly haired girl was wearing a shirt with a garish picture of a kitten, and looked nervous enough to throw up any second. There was a red head who was tugging at her gym shorts, trying to cover the cellulite on her thighs, and two blonde girls were desperately trying to learn the tryout routine in a corner of the gym - one of them kept stepping left when she should be going right, and her friend was getting more and more exasperated.
Then, there were the current Cheerios. Immaculate, graceful, beautiful girls who moved fluidly and elegantly across the floor as they practised. The coach was making them all try out again too. It seemed no one was assured a spot on the squad. Quinn wanted to be one of them, in their pristine red, black, and white uniforms more than she'd ever wanted anything else in her whole life.
The first girl was called to the front to try out and Quinn watched curiously as the girl went through a series of flips, jumps, and complicated footwork, her Cheerios skirt flaring as she twirled. When she finished she looked expectantly at the coach, who was looking bored as she lifted a megaphone to her mouth.
"I've seen toddlers dance better!" yelled the coach and Quinn tried not to flinch at the harshness of her tone. "That's three minutes of my life I'll never get back." The cheerleader's lip trembled as she tried to fight back tears. Quinn instantly knew that the girl had made a fatal mistake by showing her weakness. "You think this is hard?" bellowed the coach through her megaphone. "I'm living with chronic fatigue syndrome - that's hard."
The girl ran off to be consoled by her friends but Quinn didn't feel the slightest bit sorry for her. She'd probably spent her summer at the mall with her friends eating junk food and going to the movies, whilst Quinn had been home practising every day until her muscles had ached and eating nothing but lettuce leaves and carrot sticks. She detested the carrot sticks most of all, and the day she'd finally reached her goal weight, she'd promised herself that she'd never eat another carrot ever again.
Over the next hour, the large crowd of girls were whittled down until there were only a handful left. Quinn had noticed that the coach never gave any words of praise, and most of the girls had been on the receiving end of at least one acerbic barb. When the coach found nothing to criticize, she would simply purse her lips and remain silent. None of the new girls had been that lucky, however, and three of the current Cheerios had also been torn to shreds.
"Santana Lopez," drawled Coach Sylvester into her megaphone, and Quinn watched as a stunning Latina sashayed her way to the front of the room. Her body language quite clearly stated an I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude and Quinn had never seen anyone with so much self-confidence. She suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach and she wriggled uncomfortably in her seat on the bleachers. The way Santana moved was fascinating, almost feline-like, and Quinn knew instinctively that this girl would be true competition. She sat up straighter to ensure she wouldn't miss a second of the brunette's tryout. As Santana began her routine, Quinn found her eyes drawn to the Latina's lithe, shapely figure and she was surprised when her pulse began to quicken and her palms grew clammy. Santana was more than good, she was amazing... and the way she moved was intoxicating.
Feeling her cheeks flush, Quinn began to panic internally, wondering why Santana was having such an effect on her. It was jealousy, that had to be it, she thought... but she'd been jealous many times before and it had never manifested in such an intensely physiological way. Then, Santana finished with a cartwheel, and without waiting for the coach's critique, she glided off and straight into the arms of a waiting blonde girl who squealed and hugged her excitedly. Quinn felt an irrational flood of anger as she watched the tall blonde embrace Santana. Her face burned, and her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the bleachers. Her breathing was shallow and irregular... Now this was jealousy, she realized, but then a new, horrifying thought hit her. She was jealous, but not because of how good Santana's routine had been (she knew hers would be better) - she was jealous because she wanted to be the one Santana was hugging. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have the brunette in her arms, their bodies pressed intimately against each other. When the blonde girl planted a chaste, congratulatory kiss on Santana's lips, Quinn imagined she was in her place, and a rush of electricity shot through her whole body.
That single thought was more terrifying than anything Quinn had ever experienced. This was not her plan. She couldn't be attracted to another girl, not even for a second. She was going to be prom queen and head cheerleader and make her parents proud of her. She was going to be perfect - there was no other choice for her - she'd worked too hard already.
And so, Quinn forced those feelings deep down inside and locked them away where they couldn't hurt her. She got up when her name was called and performed her routine with her whole heart and soul, and she was sure she spotted a tiny smile play at Coach Sylvester's lips as the austere woman waved her off at the end of the tryout. By the time the list of successful girls was posted at the end of the week and Quinn read her name right above Santana's, she'd almost convinced herself that her attraction to the brunette was nothing more than recognizing and appreciating a potential rival for the coveted number one position... Almost.
Quinn finished relaying her story to her stunned fiancée with a wry smile.
"So I guess you could say it was love at first sight," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. Her voice was hoarse from so much talking, but she was glad she'd finally told Santana the true extent of her feelings. "I didn't want to admit it, and it wasn't until Mr Schue's wedding that I was willing to say screw it and just go for what I wanted, but it was always there deep down... sometimes very deep down," she added, thinking of all the times she'd wanted to kill Santana during high school. She'd loved her, but she'd hated her too back then. "We were both pretty screwed up, huh?"
Santana chuckled. "We were," she agreed. "But you're mine now, Lucy Q, and I'm never going to let you go." She took Quinn's hand and kissed her ring finger, right above the spot where her engagement diamond sparkled. Quinn smiled contentedly and burrowed into Santana's shoulder.
"Good," she said with a yawn, her voice muffled by Santana's hair, "because it's taken us way too long to get here, and I don't want us to waste another minute." She closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax, safe and warm in her fiancee's arms.
A loud, discordant beeping drew her out of her comfortable haze as her alarm clock rudely announced that it was time to get up. Without moving from Santana's embrace, Quinn reached blindly behind herself to shut it off, succeeding on her third attempt.
"I guess I could afford to miss a day of classes," she mused sleepily, feeling Santana's body shake with silent laughter, "and one more day of missed classes probably won't do you any more harm either." Santana laughed out loud at the last comment.
"Go to sleep, Q," she murmured, and this time Quinn happily complied.