Hello again everybody! I just wanted to take a minute to thank you all for every review/follow/read. It means a lot I really appreciate it.
Quick heads up, I will be on vacation until the 23rd so that's why I pumped the first couple of chapters out quickly cause it will be a couple of days before the next ones up.
Thanks again. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 3:
"Remember, if you see clumping in your palate that means that the antibodies that you are adding to your blood sample are reacting to the antigens on your blood cells and you possess that particular blood type. No clumping indicates that you do not possess the antigens and therefore, you do not have that blood type. If you do not see clumping in either blood type that means you are type O."
The next day in biology class, Rachel is zoning in and out, hardly paying attention as her teacher explains the ins and outs of a lab exercise on blood-typing that they are doing to conclude their unit on genetics.
Instead, the majority of her focus is concentrated on Quinn.
The blonde had sat next to her this morning pretending that nothing was different between the two of them, but Rachel notices that she is sitting just a little too stiffly at her desk for it to be believable that she thinks that everything is just fine.
Rachel knows that Quinn hadn't been the culprit who humiliated her and physically assaulted her in the cafeteria yesterday, but it was one of Quinn's new friends who did, and the blonde hadn't exactly done anything to try to stop it. In Rachel's eyes, that made her just as accountable.
On the table in front of the lab partners are all the materials they will need for today's lab. Included among them are small needles they will use to prick each other's fingers to determine their blood types.
Rachel stares at the needle with a small sense of satisfaction. Quinn may not have been responsible for what happened yesterday, but Rachel can think of a million other infractions to hold over the blonde's head.
Quite frankly, Quinn has been a pain in her ass lately, so Rachel is looking forward to an opportunity to stab her even if it is only in the finger with a tiny needle.
"Ow! What the hell Berry?"
Quinn reels when Rachel finally gets her opportunity and capitalizes on it. She plunges the needle as hard as she can into the middle finger of Quinn's right hand. It feels better than even Rachel thought it would and afterwards, the brunette just shrugs like it had been an accident even though they both know better.
"Sorry," Rachel apologizes emptily.
Quinn glares at her for a moment but even she knows she probably deserved that, so she says nothing as she squeezes her pricked finger, pooling the droplets of blood into the tiny plastic reservoirs in front of her before adding the antibodies that will reveal her blood type like some kind of magic trick.
"Nothing is happening," Quinn sighs after a moment. "What does this even mean?"
"Were you even paying the slightest bit of attention when Mrs. Hunt was explaining the assignment?" Rachel asks, peering over Quinn's shoulder to observe the stagnant puddles of blood for herself.
Admittedly, Rachel herself had been daydreaming throughout the majority of the lecture, but she was at least focused enough to be able to read the instructions on the handout and figure it out for herself.
"Of course not," Quinn groans like this should be obvious and Rachel rolls her eyes so hard that it gives her a headache.
"You're hopeless," she tells the blonde, flipping through her papers so that she might be able to interpret Quinn's results for her.
"Just tell me what it means, Berry!" Quinn snaps at her partner, ignoring their neighbors sitting in the desks around them who shoot them glances that tell Quinn and Rachel that they are wondering if it is possible for the girls to do anything without it ending in an argument.
"It means your blood type is O negative," Rachel bites back at Quinn, throwing the papers at her so that the blonde might interpret the proof for herself.
"Boring," Quinn mutters. "Typical. Okay, it's your turn now."
Quinn reaches across the table and grabs a clean needle. She points it at Rachel like a weapon, but the brunette retreats.
"There is no way I'm letting you stab me with that thing. Hand it over, Quinn. I can do it myself."
"Like hell you can," Quinn argues, grabbing Rachel's wrist and forcing her hand in front of her. "You almost pushed that stupid needle through my damn finger before, Berry. This is revenge."
"And they call me the drama queen," Rachel mutters but her sarcasm turns into a shriek of pain as Quinn depresses the needle deep into her finger with a sharp pinch.
"Ouch!" Rachel shouts, pulling her bleeding hand out of Quinn's grip to hold tight against her chest. "There's no way I did it that hard for you!"
Rachel looks down to survey the damage Quinn has done. Despite the pain, her finger is leaking only a few drops of blood. Rachel knows that she will have to move quickly or else risk Quinn having to prick her again and she certainly isn't about to do that.
"Drama queen…" Rachel hears Quinn mock her as she loads her own reservoir with her blood sample and diligently begins mixing it with the antibodies just as Quinn had done before her.
Both Rachel and Quinn watch as clumps start to appear immediately in all three of Rachel's samples.
"Why is yours so much more interesting than mine?" Quinn asks dejectedly.
"Because I'm AB+ apparently," Rachel answers. "My blood reacts with all of the antibodies. You're O-. Your blood doesn't react with any of them."
"Mine was boring," Quinn sighs, sinking down into her chair.
"Well, you can blame your parents for that," Rachel shoots back.
"Just another thing to add to the list, I guess," Quinn rolls her eyes in a gesture that Rachel returns almost naturally at this point.
"How about we just don't talk and finish our lab so we can get out of here," Rachel suggests.
"Fine by me," Quinn mutters as she slides her worksheet in front of her in order to begin to tackle the questions in the back. "First question: what is your blood type? Answer. The world's most boring one."
Quinn scribbles in her answer with sloppy handwriting. Rachel glances over her shoulder. For a moment, she's afraid that Quinn is actually going to write most boring but is satisfied when she sees that the blonde actually provides the correct response.
"Question two," Rachel chimes aloud when she is finished writing down her own answer. "What does your blood type indicate about your parents' possible blood types?"
"That my parents suck and couldn't even manage to give me good DNA?" Quinn asks.
"It means that your parents can be pretty much anything," Rachel tells her. Quinn only laughs.
"You're giving them too much credit."
"I'm talking about their blood type," Rachel corrects. "The O gene is recessive. So is a negative Rh factor. That means that they can either be O- like you or they can have one copy of the dominant allele that is expressed and one copy of the recessive one that isn't but was still able to be passed down to you."
"Thanks Einstein," Quinn mutters but Rachel notices that she still writes down her answer almost verbatim.
"Einstein was a physicist," Rachel corrects. "This is biology class."
"Whatever," Quinn rolls her eyes. "What does yours mean?"
Rachel hesitates and looks back down at her blood smear. Normally, she wouldn't think twice about a technical question regarding her parentage but with Shelby so near the idea of it makes her a little uneasy.
"It means that one of my parents has to be either A or AB and the other has to be either B or AB. At least one of them has to be Rh positive." Rachel answers, forcing herself to put aside her insecurities for the sake of an A on the assignment.
"You're better at this than me," Quinn sighs. If she had noticed Rachel's sudden discomfort, she doesn't mention it. "Can you just do mine for me?"
"Of course not," Rachel scoffs at the mere idea.
"You're the worst Berry," Quinn argues. "You do know that right?"
"And I liked you a lot better when you weren't showing up to class, Fabray," Rachel retorts.
"At least I keep things interesting," Quinn shrugs and at this, Rachel actually manages a small smile, forcing a joke.
"Says the girl with the world's most boring blood type."
Rachel works through lunch to finish her lab assignment in the library. Once again, she finds herself utilizing homework as an excuse to keep her distance from not only Finn, but from Quinn and her band of Skanks as well.
Rachel is trying to lay low if only to avoid another incident with them like the one she had suffered through yesterday. She had finished all her lab questions some time ago, but still finds herself staring at the piece of paper, buying her time.
That second question is popping out at her again, mocking her.
What does your blood type indicate about your parents' possible blood types?
Rachel wishes that it could tell her everything. She wishes that it was as simple as a high school biology project to prick her finger and be able to determine why she hadn't been good enough for Shelby, why she still wasn't, and why she most likely never would be.
Rachel is thinking about Shelby so much today that it seems almost obvious when the woman appears in her French class last period as a substitute.
Rachel hasn't seen Shelby at all since that first day of school aside from a couple of quick passes in the hallway.
She knew that logically, as a substitute teacher in her high school, it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed in this manner but still, Rachel finds it ironic that it has to be today of all days.
Luckily, Shelby doesn't speak a word of French, which means that all she does in the class is shut the lights off and let the students watch a movie.
Halfway through the period, Rachel finds herself wishing that she had the distraction of an actual lesson. She finds it difficult to stop her mind from wandering when she has nothing else to pay attention to.
"Rachel!"
The girl blinks and when she comes to, she realizes that Shelby is hovering above her, staring into her expressionless eyes with a look of utmost concern.
"Are you okay?" the older woman asks nervously as Rachel blinks up at her.
With a sharp inhale, Rachel forces herself back into focus.
The classroom lights are back on now. The television that had been playing a movie last Rachel remembers is off and the classroom is empty save for her and Shelby. The bell must have rung without Rachel even hearing it. The girl wonders if she had fallen asleep but she doesn't remember doing that either and she hates that Shelby's presence has her questioning everything.
"Um… yeah. I'm fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do… whatever that was." Rachel scrambles, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment of having been caught in such a precarious position by Shelby.
Rachel gathers up her belongings quickly, rushing to shove them inside of her backpack so that she can leave with at least some of her dignity intact. Shelby, however, has other plans.
"Rachel, wait."
The young girl forces herself to pause and look up. Shelby looks just as flustered as she feels. It comes with a sense of satisfaction that Shelby seems to get just as nervous in front of Rachel as Rachel gets in front of her.
"You… you seem a little off today," Shelby finally tells the girl. "I wasn't sure if something was wrong or if… if you were just upset that you had me as a substitute. I just wanted you to know that I had no idea you were in this class. I would have turned down the offer if I did."
"I appreciate the concern, Ms. Corcoran but it's not necessary. You don't have to worry about me." Rachel keeps her voice clipped and professional despite how desperately she wants to scream. In the end, her self-control seems to be more satisfying because the hurt look that Shelby gives her in response to her tightly polished script feels even better than yelling would have.
"You know Rachel, you can call me Shelby when we're not in class," the woman swallows, extending the offer hesitantly.
"We are in class," Rachel points out and Shelby sighs.
"You know what I mean."
Rachel scowls for a moment, considering the woman. "Thank you, Ms. Corcoran, but I'm not looking for any special treatment. Not from you and not from anybody else."
Shelby sighs and glances down at the floor with a nod of her head that indicates that she has heard her estranged daughter loud and clear.
"For the record Rachel, I would do this for any one of my students if I caught them zoning out in class," Shelby insists but realizes that it is the wrong thing to say the second that Rachel's face falls.
The smaller girl doesn't understand why it is so hard for Shelby to recognize that she is not like any of her other students. She certainly doesn't want any preferential treatment, but she doesn't understand why Shelby has to constantly pretend like she means nothing to her, either.
The concept doesn't seem so hard, and Rachel wonders how Shelby has been an adoptive mother for over a year now yet still have absolutely no idea how to act in front of her own flesh and blood.
"I'm sorry," Shelby scrambles to correct her insensitivity, cursing her seeming inability to do anything right whenever Rachel is in her vicinity. "That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant," Rachel tells her coolly. "Now, if you don't have anything else for me, I have a lot of homework to do tonight."
Rachel grabs her backpack, stuffed to capacity with none of its usual organization and slings it over her shoulder. She wants to slip quietly out of this classroom before things between her and Shelby can get even more awkward.
"I'm just worried about you Rachel, that's all," Shelby calls after the girl.
"Don't lose sleep over it," Rachel mutters, never slowing down. The last thing she needs right now is Shelby's concern of all people's. "I'm fine."
Shelby frowns, her arms crossed tight over her chest as she studies Rachel carefully.
The girl looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes and her face is paler than usual. That would be all the stress. Shelby cringes, unable to help but to feel a sense of responsibility.
Rachel feels Shelby's intense gaze on her, and despite her mind telling her to get the hell out of here, her feet skid to a stop, suddenly frozen. Being under this much scrutiny is starting to make her brain spin. The organ has already been working overtime. This certainly is not helping.
"If you wanna talk…" Shelby offers airily. Her tone is persistent, but soft. It doesn't escape Rachel that this is the most naturally the woman has ever spoken to her.
The idea of getting an air of maternity from Shelby practically forces Rachel's eyes up to meet her mother's.
Shelby's eyes are greener than hers, Rachel notices for the first time. It is probably the most dramatic difference between their physical appearance. Otherwise, they seem nearly indistinguishable.
"It's nothing," Rachel finally says, forcing her eyes away from Shelby's and onto the floor. She knows that she cannot afford to be sitting here making physical comparisons between her and Shelby. Doing so would only lead to more heartbreak.
"If it's nothing then why won't you answer me?" Shelby is being uncharacteristically pushy. A part of Rachel enjoys pretending that Shelby actually cares. A stronger part of her wishes she would stop.
"That's not fair," Rachel accuses. The older woman retreats, recognizing her mistake and nods her head softly, backtracking.
"You're right, I'm sorry," Shelby apologizes. "I just... This doesn't seem like you, that's all."
"How would you know?" Rachel accuses, trying and failing not to make her voice waiver. "You don't know me."
Shelby frowns but nods again. That is a fair point for Rachel to make, as much as it might hurt. Despite their biological connection, they don't know each other. They don't know each other at all.
"I guess that I'm just feeling sort of responsible for the way that you're feeling right now," Shelby admits.
Rachel swallows, but doesn't say anything, imploring her mother to continue. An apology is all she ever really wanted from Shelby. She wonders if she is finally going to get just that.
"I keep thinking about your Sectionals performance your sophomore year," the woman continues. "You had every card stacked against you and still, you shined. Every time I see you now, you look a little bit duller and I'm afraid that I have something to do with that."
Rachel glances up at her mother. Her honesty is a breath of fresh air despite the context.
"It's been a week and you've hardly even looked at me," Rachel feeds off her mother's insecurities and admits to her own. She feels tears start to swell underneath her eyes. The harder she tries to convince herself not to cry, the harder they threaten, and Rachel can't help but wonder how weak Shelby probably thinks she is.
"You told me that you wanted your space."
"I didn't mean it!" Rachel erupts. Even she seems surprised by her outburst. "What I wanted was for you to be able to see the truth like mothers are supposed to do! I wanted you to reach out to me, to tell me that you actually give a damn about me. I wanted you to tell me that you didn't just come back here because somebody offered you some money, just like I wanted you to tell me that that's not the reason that you decided to even have me in the first place!"
Shelby sighs and looks down at the floor. She takes her time, sinking into one of the empty desks.
Rachel hesitates but ultimately decides to follow the woman, falling into the chair one row in front of her and two seats to the left.
It does not go unnoticed by either one of them that this is the exact arrangement they had sat in when they had first met inside of that dark auditorium at Carmel High School.
"I guess that I'm bad at this," Shelby breathes after a long time. "But for the record, Rachel, I do give a damn about you. I always have. That and a whole lot more."
Rachel hangs her head to her chest, staring down at her lap, suddenly embarrassed by her temper.
"I wanted to be a mother so badly," Shelby continues after a moment. "My parents, they weren't great. They gave me everything that I wanted but they never had the emotional capacity for parenthood. I thought that if I had a child of my own, I would be able to break that cycle. So much for that, huh?"
Rachel takes a deep breath. The subsequent silence is starting to make her uncomfortable. She doesn't know what to say. She wonders if Shelby is looking for comfort, but quickly remembers that that is not her job and moves on.
"I heard that you let Puck and Quinn see Beth."
"I extended the offer," Shelby confirms. "Quinn hasn't seen her yet. She's not ready. But giving them that opportunity was part of the reason that I decided to come back to Lima. Things like this take time. They take patience."
"I thought that the only reason you came back to Lima was because you were getting paid," Rachel glances over her shoulder towards Shelby, echoing the excuse the woman had given her when she had confronted her on the first day of school.
Shelby nods tensely, indicating to Rachel that she understands that the girl is giving her one more chance and one more chance only to get her explanation right.
"The money was nice," Shelby admits with a shrug. "But what was even nicer was having that opportunity to reach out to Puck and Quinn. And to you. Rachel, you have to know that I came back here for you too."
"Could have fooled me," Rachel sighs, turning back to face front as she sinks further into her seat.
"Al Motta called me in the middle of the afternoon the Sunday before the first day of school," Shelby continues, ignoring Rachel's quip. "I drove here all the way from New York. I had to make sure that I would make it before the first bell rang the next day. I didn't even pack anything aside from Beth's diaper bag and a duffel full of clothes. I've been living in a hotel since I got here. I figured that with the money Mr. Motta offered me, I could afford to hire somebody to pack all of my things in New York and bring them here to Lima for me." Shelby smirks and laughs gently to herself, looking down at her hands. "Do you know how long the drive between New York and Lima is, Rachel?" Shelby asks after a moment of silence.
"Nine hours and twenty-three minutes," Rachel answers without pause. She has looked it up a million times before. Shelby smiles and nods as though she had been expecting nothing less than that exact answer from Rachel.
"I drove all night. The entire time, all I could think about was what I could possibly say to you to make up for everything I did." Shelby pauses, shaking her head slowly. "Nine hours and twenty-three minutes and I didn't come up with a damn thing."
Rachel tightens her lips together and presses them closed. She doesn't know what to say to Shelby but that hardly seems to matter because now that the woman has started talking, she seems to be easing into the words she has been looking for this entire time.
"There are so many things that I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid that you wouldn't understand. I was afraid that I would only make you angrier. I've already hurt you so much. I didn't want to hurt you even more. That's why I reached out to Quinn first. I could identify with Quinn. I knew exactly what she was going through. It's the same thing that happened to me after I had you. I knew what she wanted to hear. When I saw you… well, I realized that I had no idea. All I saw was the pain that I had caused you and that made me want to crawl in a ball and hide. It still does. I don't like not having control over a situation. Unfortunately, it took me a long time to realize that this isn't about me. It's about you, and I couldn't do what I did to you again."
Rachel risks looking over her shoulder at Shelby.
The woman is not looking at her. Instead, she looks straight ahead, focusing on the whiteboard in front of the classroom with glossy eyes.
Rachel doesn't say anything because she wants Shelby to keep going. This is the most honest that her mother has ever been with her, and despite the pain in her eyes, it feels good to finally hear the truth.
"I walked into this school on that first day figuring I would be able to just wing a conversation when we inevitably saw each other. I had so many things planned to say, but then you were the one who came to me and you had fire in your eyes, kid."
Shelby smirks at the memory, but her eyes remain sad.
"I'm still angry," the younger girl admits.
Shelby nods as though she had been expecting this much. The woman has left a lifetime of wounds implanted inside of Rachel's heart. Neither of them are expecting a single conversation in the back of an empty French classroom to change that.
"You have every right to be," Shelby nods. "But you're not yelling at me this time, so I am going to consider that an improvement."
Shelby cocks an eyebrow, looking for a confirmation that Rachel gives to her in the form of a shallow nod.
"Does this mean we can stop pretending that there isn't any connection between us now?" Rachel asks after a moment.
Shelby pauses, thinking about her answer. "That's up to you and your fathers."
Rachel raises an eyebrow. "Why them?"
"They're your parents, Rachel," Shelby sighs. "And I undermined their authority once before. I want to get things between us right this time. That means doing it the right way."
Rachel nods, appreciative of the gesture.
"I'll talk to them," she promises.
Shelby smiles at Rachel and this time, there is no hint of the sadness that Rachel had seen last time.
Rachel nods, but she senses this conversation ending so she stands up from her desk, this time without the urgency of escape that she had displayed before.
The girl moves slowly, draping her backpack over her shoulders. Shelby does not try to stop her as she silently makes her way towards the door.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," Rachel calls to Shelby from the doorway.
"I'll see you tomorrow," the older woman reciprocates with a satisfied nod.
Rachel pushes the classroom door open. The hallways are crowded with students gathering their belongings and chatting with friends as they decompress after the end of yet another school day.
Rachel hesitates. Not quite ready to join them, she turns back towards Shelby.
"Shelby?" Rachel calls to the woman from the doorway.
Shelby glances up at Rachel. She looks relieved to hear her first name coming out of her daughter's mouth and not the formidable Ms. Corcoran that Rachel had been using to hint that there would never be room for them to formulate any level of a personal relationship.
"Can I ask you something?"
Shelby nods. "Sure."
"What's your blood type?" Rachel asks with a smirk.
She knows that it is a bizarre question, but she's had that stupid lab report on her mind all day wondering whether or not she would ever have the opportunity to get close enough with Shelby to know something so personal. What might sound like an outrageous question to Shelby is the symbolic stepping-stone that Rachel had been referring to when she indicated that she would like to take things slow.
"What?" Shelby asks, raising a confused, yet humored eyebrow.
"I have to do this lab report for my biology class," Rachel explains. Shelby just shrugs her shoulders, not thinking anything more of it.
"I'm A-," she answers her daughter who nods appreciatively.
"Thanks," Rachel smirks before turning out of the classroom into the crowded hallway with the thought in her mind that maybe Shelby being here wouldn't be as bad as she had previously expected.
What does your blood type indicate about your parents' possible blood types?
Rachel stares at the question on her biology assignment and reads it over and over and over again. She knows exactly what keeps attracting her to it.
According to the laws of genetics, which Rachel has been meticulously studying for the past two weeks, if Shelby's blood type is really A- then that meant that whoever her biological father is would have to be either AB+ or B+.
Last week, her biology teacher had mentioned that these two blood types were among the rarest in the United States. Chances are that only one of her fathers would possess it.
This is all the information that Rachel needs to finally figure out who her biological father is.
Rachel has been going back and forth between asking them all night. She knew how much it meant to them that they never knew which one of them actually fathered Rachel. And they were already devastated by Shelby's return. If they knew that Rachel was considering approaching the truth about her paternity, it would ruin them.
It's not that Rachel believes that the knowledge would make her feel any differently towards her fathers. Rachel loves the both of them equally. No high school biology lab would ever change that.
Rachel thinks that her fathers would understand this, but they're always telling her how special not knowing made their family and the timing was just all wrong for her to admit to them now that she has always held a morbid curiosity about where she came from.
"Rachel?"
Her Daddy LeRoy knocks on her partially ajar bedroom door and Rachel slams her biology textbook closed like she is afraid that he is going to see her reading the chapter on genetics and immediately realize that she is not studying, but hatching a plan to figure out the identity of her biological father.
She watches her father raise a curious eyebrow at her. She has been acting strange since she came home from school today.
"What are you doing up here?" he asks her, stepping further into her bright yellow bedroom. Rachel sits a little bit straighter inside of her desk chair and tries her hardest to look innocent.
"Just finishing up some homework, Daddy," she tells him, offering up the most convincing smile that she can muster.
"Well, dinner is ready downstairs," he informs her softly. "How about you take a break from all of that homework and come downstairs to eat. Even Barbra ate dinner between rehearsals, Rach."
"Okay Daddy," Rachel forces another smile and pulls herself reluctantly up from her desk so that she can follow her father down the stairs and into the dining room where her Daddy Hiram is just placing the last of the serving dishes out onto the table.
Rachel sits down in her usual chair, scanning her fathers closely. She is looking for any signs of familiarity, trying to make assumptions about their features compared to her own so that she would not be surprised when she finally did uncover the truth.
This is not the first time that she has done this but tonight, everything feels different.
"You seem distracted tonight, Star."
Rachel looks up at the sound of her father Hiram's voice. She must have been dozing off into outer space some time because both of her fathers are almost completely finished with their meals. Meanwhile, she has barely touched her own plate.
"Anything interesting?" he prompts through a bite of food and Rachel has to swallow the lump that has formed in her throat. She feels her heart start to flutter inside of her chest. She realizes that if she is going to ask them, it has to be now.
"Actually, I was thinking about my newest AP Biology assignment. I'm working on a paper about the frequencies of blood types in the United States. We're all going to collect information about the blood types of people we know and then compare the data to see if they match the population frequency."
Rachel hates how easily she is able to lie to her parents and wonders if maybe she is spending a little too much time with Quinn lately. But she needs to lie to them. The truth would only hurt them.
That is what she tells herself, anyway.
"So," Rachel asks, holding her breath. "Do you both know your blood type?"
Biology class is the last place that Rachel wants to be the next morning, but her muscles move independently from anything that her brain is telling her, and she makes it to class anyway.
She sits down in her usual spot next to Quinn. The blonde is already staring at her like she can tell that something is wrong. Rachel has a look on her face like she has seen a ghost.
She feels like she had.
"You don't have to look so happy to see me," Quinn tells Rachel. It is her way of asking the brunette what's wrong.
Quinn stares at the girl, waiting for her to retort with something obnoxiously typical of Rachel Berry, but that never comes.
"Are you giving me the silent treatment now?" Quinn asks. "Is this about the Skanks? Shelby? Do you want me to apologize? I apologize."
"It's not about the Skanks," Rachel finally breathes but her voice is distant, and it bites hard. "It is about Shelby, though."
"Of course it is," Quinn breathes. She looks distressed by Rachel's distance, especially when it boils down to the mutual thorn in their side: Shelby. "So, what'd she do this time?"
Rachel grinds her teeth hard. She doesn't want to talk about Shelby. That woman had fooled her yesterday, not for the first time but certainly for the last.
She had lied to Rachel about wanting to be honest with her yesterday. What she had found out from her fathers last night had proved that much.
The worst part is that Shelby isn't the only one lying.
Rachel turns to glance up at Quinn. The blonde is staring at her with that same deep, hazel expression that she had noticed on that very first day of school in the back of the auditorium after she had confronted Shelby the first time.
Quinn is the only other person on this planet who can understand what she is feeling. She is the only other person who knows what it feels like to be this hurt by Shelby Corcoran.
"I talked to her yesterday," Rachel admits. "Her blood type is A-."
"You guys had a weird conversation," Quinn raises an eyebrow.
"My dads never really told me much about how I was born," Rachel continues, ignoring Quinn. "The only thing they ever told me was that they put an ad out in the newspaper for a surrogate and Shelby responded. They said they used at-home remedies to get Shelby pregnant with me."
Quinn raises a confused and slightly grossed-out eyebrow.
"Sounds very technical," she quips, but she sounds interested despite this.
"The point is that they always told me that nobody knew which one of them is my biological father. Everything was supposed to have happened at random."
Rachel closes her eyes and tries to control her breathing as it grows irregular in her distress. She knows that she should not be taking this much merit into a conclusion formulated from a high school biology project but the information she had received yesterday was only the tip of the iceberg. Her fathers and Shelby are covering up a secret regarding her parentage, and she needs to find out what that secret is.
"Then, I couldn't get that stupid lab we did yesterday out of my head and when I asked Shelby, she told me that her blood type was A-. That meant that whoever my dad was had to be either B+ or AB+ for me to be AB+. So, I asked them last night. I figured it would be a subtle way for me to find out who was my real father. I told them that it was for a biology paper on the frequency of blood types."
"You lied to them?" Quinn asks. Her voice does not sound accusing, only surprised.
"They're the ones who have been lying to me," Rachel hisses.
"What do you mean?" Quinn swallows. Rachel only glares at the blonde, shaking her head slowly.
"They're both O-," Rachel breathes. "Neither one of them is my biological father."