(Quinn)

I spent a good deal of time watching Rachel, when no one else was looking, to spot the little diva's recurring quirks. I noticed that some of them spoke a lot about the state of her mind. When Rachel was about to do something, she would stare at the target and bite the cap of her pen. If she didn't have one then she would bite the corner of her bottom lip. When she was sad and melancholy, she wore dark colored pants or dresses. The normal state was with the awful skirts and blouses I had no idea where she bought them. That's why everyone thought she could only steal those things from her grandmother's wardrobe. Or she was a customer at a really bad thrift store.

There was a new expression that Rachel had started doing over the past few weeks: a frown accompanied by an unbelievably puppy-dog look. She had a passionate face, and to identify that one, you don't even need to know a person well. Rachel directed that look at Finn Hudson.

Who was Finn Hudson?

Well, he was the third quarterback on the high school's football team. In fact, he was a good-looking guy, tall, but he was a complete idiot who had the same attractive power as a cockroach, in my humble opinion. Finn only spoke nonsense, and it was quite possible that he had never read a book without illustrations in his life. Most likely, his notion of politics came from the Captain America comics. I knew he was raised by his widowed mother, and that his father died in the line of duty. Being the son of a veteran hero made him have a few points on the popularity pyramid.

I would talk to him to try to be polite and tolerant of a guy who was naturally popular and in "my" crowd. After all, Finn was one of the few kids who didn't give me cheap, nasty pick-up lines, and for that I gave him some credit. Long story short: Finn was an unintelligent jock, but he was a good guy.

If any other girl looked at him, I wouldn't give a damn. But when I realized that Rachel Berry-Lopez, the girl I was forced to torture almost every day, was the one pining after him, it infuriated me. It took me a while to admit to myself that I was jealous of her, and that's why I started to have suppressed anger at the dumb giant. Rachel would never look at her biggest tormentor at school the same way. Even a nerd like Finn would realize sooner or later that there was an adorable girl madly in love watching him from the corners. What if he wants her? Thinking about it gave me heartburn and a headache.

It was terrible to study with Rachel being forced to torture her when, in fact, all I wanted was to be able to talk normally with her, to be her friend. Honestly, I was confused by it all. I know I shouldn't care because sooner or later Rachel would have boyfriends at school, even with all her unpopularity. Because she was a pretty girl! But seeing her in love with Finn Hudson caused me a strange feeling, a tightness in my chest, an annoyance that I couldn't say why.

Maybe I should get a boyfriend and start thinking about someone other than Rachel Berry-Lopez. The problem was that I couldn't find myself attracted to boys. Yes, I found some of them very handsome, as I found some girls beautiful. Frannie's friends, for example, had attractive breasts. Unintentionally, my eyes dropped down to see the valley between the two mounds crammed into tight T-shirts. I didn't think Brittany was a pretty girl, on the other hand, she had great legs and a gorgeous body for a 16 year old. Santana was beautiful and had a wonderful skin tone. I'd see her naked sometimes in the locker room after practice, and she was pretty cute down there too. But that was normal, right? Straight girls were always complimenting their friends' breasts. Right? It was just that I didn't feel the slightest desire to be with boys, and I also refused to think further about the strange attraction I felt for the female body. Because I'm not gay. I can't be gay. Maybe I'm like those people who aren't interested in sex.

In the cafeteria, I continued to watch Rachel looking all smitten with Finn Hudson. I wanted to ignore it and move on, but I couldn't. All I wanted was for her to stay the hell away from that idiot. That's why I decided to act: after all, I was a Fabray and I had a sister-tutor who taught me very well in the Machiavellian arts. Let's face it, Frannie was a sociopath, just like my father, and because of that, Frannie was excellent at the manipulation and bitching game. If I hated the prospect of seeing Rachel with Finn Hudson so much, then I decided I was going to stay with him, despite every opinion I had about that asshole. That way I would have a popular boyfriend who was also a nice guy, and no one would be questioning my lack of interest in the male sex.

It wouldn't be difficult because Finn Hudson was also interested in me. I just need to snap my fingers. Who knows, maybe dating him might even put an end to my confusion, and free me from the agony of liking a certain irritating girl. The onslaught would be worth it: I would be at peace with my family and myself.

"Do you have a problem Quinnie?" Frannie snapped her fingers in front of my face, snapping me back to reality. I was in the cafeteria with my sister, Harry and Ethan and a few more cheerios. Rachel was alone at a table looking at Finn Hudson, who was talking with Puck, Mike and Matt.

"RuPaul is looking at my boyfriend too much." I said in an angry tone. I could barely hide my jealousy. Luckily Frannie thought it was for Finn.

"You and the giant Hudson?" She didn't look so sure, but she smiled mischievously. "What a fate! Couldn't it be another girl eyeing your man?"

"Fate doesn't help".

"Go to the fight and mark your territory. Don't give soup to chance. Give it to him if you have to."

"Give it to him?" My stomach twisted. "Are you suggesting that I should have sex with Finn just to eliminate the competition? Especially an almost insignificant one like Lopez number two?"

"You're going to have to do it someday. You don't want to die a virgin, do you?" Frannie smirked. "Anyway, if you're not ready yet, there are other ways to keep a guy on your toes without having to have sex with him. I can suggest some educational videos for you."

"I bet so…" I muttered under my breath.

"What did you say?" Frannie said in an adversarial tone.

"I bet you do, and I can imagine those methods, but you'll give me some hints later." I forced a sly smile.

"Now get off this chair and go get your man!"

Like the predator I was becoming, I fixed my eyes on my prey and lunged for her. Rachel was finishing her salad when I surprised her with a punch next to the meal tray. She was startled, but quickly regained her composure when she saw me.

"You're looking at something forbidden, Thing!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Quinn." Rachel didn't play my poor game. The more I lashed out at her with Slushies and insults, the more she learned to hold her head high and hit back with pointed comments. It was annoying and…attractive.

"Don't play dumb! Stay away from my boyfriend or you'll be sorry."

"Don't accuse me of something I didn't do. I was here quietly at my table, with my lunch. I didn't mess with you or anyone else. What right do you have to come here and take my peace for nothing? Or are you bored, Quinn Fabray? Sorry, but I'm not willing to be your entertainment for today." Rachel was getting up and I was there disconcerted. "If you'll excuse me, stay with your paranoia and I'll move on with my life!"

"You're going to regret what you said, RuPaul!" I screamed as soon as I got it together, I went after her and pulled her by the arm. The tray fell with the movement. I brought my face closer and was inches from hers. I acted with hate and passion at the same time. Everything was confusing. I was furious with her, and at the same time that it made me aroused. "If you don't disappear for the rest of the day, be prepared to get your payback."

"Bring it on. I didn't get slushied in the face today. I miss that!"

That wry, confident smile killed me. My ears warmed up, as did the rest of my body. I was on the verge of losing control and kissing her in the middle of everyone. But I released her and turned away. I needed to get the hell out of there, splash cold water on my face. My god... I really thought about kissing Rachel Berry-Lopez! I almost panicked.

The acrimonious confrontation in the cafeteria provoked small comments among the students. It must have been an amusing scene for everyone else. Incidentally, it was the function of the eternal war between the popular and the losers: to entertain the crowd that found itself between the two poles. I couldn't show shame or dejection, so I turned my nose up, walked like a queen and avoided crossing paths with Rachel as much as possible. I was successful that day. Or almost. Fate always prepares surprises.

...

I arrived a little early for the choreography rehearsal that was always held in the afternoons. I changed into my practice uniform and did a light jog around the court just to warm up a bit before stretching. The girls arrived on schedule, including Frannie.

"Come on lazy, I want to see some sweat." Coach was yelling into the megaphone.

Brittany was stretching. Her flexibility was absurd and enviable, apart from her physical strength. Among a group of girls with great and in fit bodies, Brittany's was the most beautiful and harmonious one. Santana was skinny yet strong; Frannie wasn't strong, but she was well coordinated; I had thick legs and a big ass for a white girl: a holdover from my years as a chubby kid, and my tendency to pack on fat in those parts.

"Want some help with your arms?" Brittany offered and I accepted.

I found it odd because she was there helping me and not Santana. Then I saw the person in question approaching. Santana was frighteningly pale. It felt like she was going to fall off at any moment. I mean, everyone at school knew that Santana Berry-Lopez had been fucked by Andy, and everyone started making theories about her being so depressed around school in the days that followed. I myself felt disgusted just remembering some of them. There were people saying that she was pregnant. What I sensed was that something had gone terribly wrong, and I felt sorry for her, because I knew Andy was a dick.

"Santana?" I frowned. "You don't look good to me..."

"It's not..." The speech was cut off by a scream. She hugged her abdomen, leaned forward and lost strength in her legs. She first dropped to her knees in front of us, then fell to her side. Brittany tried to trim her in the process. It was useless.

"What's going on here?" The coach pushed her way through the girls who were huddled in a circle. "Lopez..." she knelt beside the girl. "What it was?"

"Pain!"

Coach Sylvester studied her some more. She then lifted Santana up and placed her in her arms. I was worried. How could a person feel such severe pain that they couldn't walk? Wasn't her father a doctor? Couldn't he have anticipated this? Coach led the way out of the gym with Santana in her arms. Sue Sylvester was a legendary manipulative bitch, but she had to give it a go: the coach cared about the team.

"Will you take her to the infirmary?" Brittany chased after. I went along.

"No… to the hospital! Frannie… you lead the practice."

Brittany was stunned, not knowing what to do. I was also confused and surprised. I had never seen someone get sick in front of me like that. Anyway, I tried to help my colleague cheerio even though I wasn't close to her.

"Britt!" I tried to convey calm. "Do you know what was happening to Santana to make her sick like that?"

"Well... her and Andy..." she looked very confused. "Was it because of that?"

"Nobody gets sick like that for being a slut!" Frannie answered from behind us. I should have realized that she was around the whole time.

"She is not a slut!" Brittany responded so aggressively that I was taken aback. It was the first time I saw her get angry like that.

"Don't you know? Andy said she liked it so much, she started having sex to everyone at school."

I don't know how Brittany controlled herself. Hatred was at her forefront, that if it hadn't been for me holding her, Frannie would have been punched. But Brittany has always been the team's pacifist. She stopped resisting and simply turned her back on my sister and started walking off the court.

"Where do you think you are going?" Frannie screamed.

"It's none of your business, bitch!" Brittany yelled back.

"Brittany!" I held her hand as gently as I could. "Where are you going?"

"Rachy. She needs to take me to the hospital."

Yes, there was Rachel. Santana was rushed to the hospital while Rachel was still wandering around the school without knowing anything. Brittany might be very determined, but she was still Brittany, who could get confused easily.

"Do you have Rachel's cell phone?"

"No, only mine!" She replied in distress.

"I mean, her cell phone number."

"Yes, but I don't know it by heart. It's recorded on my cell phone..."

"Where is your cell phone?"

"At home, I guess..."

"Do you know if Rachel is here at school today?"

"I... I... she was going to come back today with San, I think..."

"So is Rachel at school now?"

"Yes, I think so."

"We have to warn her, Britt."

I held her hand firmly and we walked towards the gym exit.

"If you abandon this practice, you don't have to come back tomorrow."

"What!" I raged.

"I said..." Frannie crossed her arms. "If you two ditch practice, you won't have to come back! You will be out of the squadron."

"You can't be serious, Frances Clarie Fabray!" My sister hated it when I called her by her full name, especially in front of strangers. Because that's how we knew when our father was going to call us into the office to have ten paddled.

"Try it, Lucy Quinn Fabray." She cashed in the same coin.

My blood bubbled. Nobody called me Lucy in front of other people, especially people who knew me. Nobody! Calling me Lucy had the same effect as calling Marty McFly a coward. I looked at my sister and narrowed my eyes. In addition to being heartlessly heartless to others, she still wanted a fight with me? Well, she would have one. Frannie had no idea who she was dealing with. I wasn't a little lamb.

I turned my back and pulled Brittany out of the gym: there was an emergency going on that was above me and Frannie at that moment. Rachel needed to be warned.

Brittany and I decided to take our chances and find Rachel in the music room. Odd that Rachel wasn't there trying to reach new ones with the help of the piano. We went to the library next. It was a relief to find her doing her homework. We ran up to her and provoked an unusual reaction. As soon as she saw us, she jumped to her feet, fully armed.

"Rachel!" I raised my arm in a sign of calm and peace. "I didn't come here to fight, okay! It's about your sister."

"What happened to Santana?" Her state changed from alert to pure concern. "Did she get sick? I knew she was going to be sick… she wasn't feeling well today, and I told her to stay home."

"Didn't your doctor father recommend that?" I questioned.

"My doctor father has been in Boston for a week to learn a surgical technique with one of those ultra-technological devices..."

"Oh... well... Santana got sick and coach Sylvester took her to the hospital." I explained.

"What?" Interesting how people acted differently when faced with the confirmation of something they already suspected. Rachel looked like she was going to panic. She took out her cell phone with trembling hands and called someone. She wasn't successful. She tried again. Finally, she typed a text message, grabbed her things, and hurried out of the library.

"Where are you going?" I yelled running after her.

"Why are you interested, Fabray?" She aggressively responded.

"Rachel!" I grabbed her arm for the second time in a single day. "I'm not here to fight you. I want to help you. Brittany is your sister's best friend. Don't you think she would like to go with you?" I saw that Rachel seemed to consider my words.

"I'm going to the hospital. My bike is outside. Twenty minutes and I'll be there."

"Or in less than 10 minutes if we go by car. Let's go!"

"I didn't know you had a driver's license."

"I haven't yet. I only turn 16 in July. But my dad already taught me how to drive. I'm even good behind the wheel."

"But..." I felt Rachel hesitate.

"Do you want to go to the hospital or not?" I challenged.

"Let's go!"

I opened Frannie's locker. I took the car keys from her wallet. I didn't even have the curiosity to know if my sister was screaming with the other poor women or not. I passed the girls and we started for the parking lot. Since the episode with the tires deflated by a joker, I was relieved whenever I found the car with no breakdowns. Rachel got into the backseat, and Brittany took the seat next to mine.

"I can't talk to Daddy!" I heard Rachel rant in frustration. "I texted papi just now."

"Papi?"

"My doctor father."

"Oh."

I tried to drive as carefully as possible to avoid police intervention. Luckily, we weren't stopped by any cops and arrived safely at the hospital's parking lot. Rachel barely waited for me to park and ran into the hospital, where her doctor father worked. My father was always bad-mouthing the biggest hospital in Lima just because the head surgeon was the big gay Latino. Those are two things my father hated: Latinos and gays.

Brittany ran after Rachel. I didn't have the same need to run, because since I wasn't part of the family, nobody would give me information. I walked to the ER and kindly asked the Front desk receptionist to let me know if Santana Berry-Lopez was at that hospital. It almost certainly was, because it was the closest to the school, and because her father worked there.

"Santana? Yes, she is being attended to." Front desk receptionist reported. "Rachel just passed by and ran to the ER. You can go there."

I was amazed at the Front desk receptionist's intimacy with the girls. He indicated the direction and I nodded gratefully. When I got to the indicated room, I saw Rachel arguing with someone from the hospital, while Brittany witnessed everything next to her. Coach Sylvester watched from a little further away.

"Surprise to see you here, Q." She touched my shoulder.

"I brought Rachel here…and Brittany."

"Frannie allowed it?"

"No. She kicked me and Brittany out of cheerios because we ditched practice."

"Really?"

"Yes, she did it." And I glared at the coach. "You won't allow it, right?"

"I don't know, Q. She's your captain and you really shouldn't have ditched the practice."

"But..."

"Santana is not your friend as far as I know, and Frannie is the person in charge when I'm away. Unless you can show me a very strong reason why Frannie shouldn't be no longer the person for this job, I will respect that decision."

Sue Sylvester went back to watching Rachel and Brittany, who ran into another room: one we didn't have access to because we weren't family. I looked sideways at the coach. The situation was tense, but her hint about commanding the cheerios didn't go unnoticed.

"Do you know what Santana has?" I asked almost casually.

"I've seen people with pain like the ones she presented. It appears to be a case of acute appendicitis. I think she will have to have a surgery."

"Is this… is this a risky surgery?"

"If she doesn't, she dies. But it's a simple procedure overall."

"Oh!"

"Don't worry. If so, Santana will be fine. It's a shame that we won't be able to count on her for the championship, because of the recovery time."

"Coach..."

"Yes, what?"

"I left Frannie on foot, and I don't have a driver's license."

Sylvester looked at me as if she'd been taken aback and let out a laugh that drew the attention of those around her. It really seemed like a ready-made joke.