Author: RedYellow11 PM
Quinn's life is starting to look up, but one morning, she wakes up and everyone and everything in her life is completely different, making her question if she was ever truly happy. Faberry. Spoilers through New York. Rating may go up.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Quinn F. & Rachel B. - Chapters: 3 - Words: 9,975 - Reviews: 65 - Favs: 86 - Follows: 207 - Updated: 07-15-11 - Published: 05-27-11 - id: 7026563
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I've wanted to do a story like this for a while. I finally got a solid enough idea, so I started writing.
A/N 2: For everyone reading my other stories, they're still my top priorities. This has just been added to my update rotation.
There were a lot of things in my life that weren't perfect. I'd gotten pregnant at sixteen, my father had disowned me, I'd been kicked off of the Cheerios, and the boy that I thought I would marry ended up falling in love with a dwarf . My life had it's share of rough patches.
Still, things were starting to look up. I was dating Sam, which was a boost to my popularity. Sure he was only second string, and we didn't really have much going on in the way of attraction, but it was better than being alone. Plus, I was back on the Cheerios and at the top of the pyramid (even though I had to stab Santana in the back to get there...oh, well. Casualties of war), and the glee club won sectionals, led in by a duet by Sam and me. To top it all off, not only had I taken Rachel's spotlight in the competition, her relationship with Finn had completely fallen apart. My life was on the upswing, and without Finn, Rachel would start being tormented even more than she already was. All was right with the world once again.
When I saw Rachel get slushied two days before Christmas break, I laughed with everyone else. She ran off to the bathroom, and I followed her, planning on twisting the knife a little bit. When I saw her gripping the edge of the sink and bawling her eyes out, I faltered a little.
"Why do they hate me?" she said to herself in the mirror. "I haven't done anything wrong. I try to be good to people. I try to be nice. Why don't they like me?"
"Because you're obnoxious," I said, and she spun around. She wiped away a few tears and some slushie off of her face. "You talk too much, you throw a fit whenever anyone else gets a solo, you plot and scheme to make sure no one else gets any of the attention you think you deserve, and, to top it all off, you're a boyfriend stealer."
Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find words. I felt a little satisfaction at the fact that I'd made Rachel Berry speechless...even if it was only for a moment.
"Did you follow me in here just to make me feel worse?" she asked. "Isn't it enough that you started all this torture in the first place?" I had. Freshman year, I'd seen Rachel standing by her locker, minding her own business, and I'd grabbed a slushie from a passerby and thrown it in her face, calling her Manhands as I'd walked away. "I know that we have some issues between us because of Finn, but this started way before that. You've hated me since the moment you met me, and I just want to know why."
I didn't really know what to say. It's true; I'd always felt this urge to make sure that Rachel was at the bottom of the heap. I didn't want anyone to think that she was pretty or special in any way, but now that I thought about it, I didn't really know why. I'd always blamed it on her trying to take everything from me, but she hadn't been doing anything to me that first day.
I just shrugged. "Do I really need a reason?"
I saw fresh tears well up in her eyes. "No...no I suppose you don't." The way she said it...she sounded so broken...I felt the need to apologize. It didn't make any sense, so I pushed it down and walked out of the bathroom without another word. For the rest of the day, I couldn't help feeling guilty. Rachel really hadn't done anything wrong. People hated her because she was different and they were jealous of her. Sure, she ran her mouth a lot, but that's no reason for someone to be actively singled out as much as she has.
Instead of being mature and dealing with my new found guilt, I ignored it, spend the rest of my day with Sam (I let him get a little further than usual,but he still wasn't anywhere near third base. Hell, he was barely on second), then went to bed and hoped that all these feelings would pass in the morning.
My next morning started with me rolling out of bed onto my floor.
"Damn it!" I yelled at I landed hard on my arm. I could already tell today wasn't going to be a good day. I got off the floor and went to my closet to lay out my Cheerios uniform before I jumped in the shower...except my uniform wasn't there. I looked around my room for a good ten minutes before giving up. I decided to call Santana and ask if I could borrow one of hers. Even if we weren't exactly friendly at the moment, she was well aware of the punishment that would happen to us if we didn't all have our uniforms.
I called her cell phone a few times, but she didn't answer. I started to panic. I thought about calling Brittany, but then I remembered that she only had one uniform (she said the others were stolen by uniform gnomes, who were cousins of the underpants gnomes...a glare from Santana told me to not question it any further). I decided to try Santana's house number. I wasn't quite sure I remembered it, but I tried it anyway.
"Hello?" a voice on the other end said after a few rings.
"Mrs. Lopez?" I asked.
"This is she."
I sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God. This is Quinn Fabray. Is Santana home? It's a bit of an emergency."
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. I thought the call had been disconnected, but finally, Mrs. Lopez said, "You think that's funny? Don't call here ever again." With that, she hung up the phone. I closed my phone, confused about what had just happened.
"I guess that was the wrong number," I said to myself. I didn't know that there were other Lopez's in our area code, but I just brushed it off and went into my bathroom to take a shower. The water had a calming effect on me. That is, until I went to wash my hair. When I went to put the shampoo on my head, I felt like there was something missing...about six inches of something missing. I jumped out of the shower and looked at myself in the mirror.
"Where...what..." I couldn't form a complete thought. My hair was gone. Sure, I wasn't bald or anything, but it was still horrifying. I wanted to scream or cry or something, but I just focused on not hyperventilating. I dried the little bit of hair left, threw on some random clothes, then ran downstairs, hoping to catch my mom and ask her if she'd seen Santana at all last night. This had to be her pulling a prank on me or something. Sure, she'd done a really good job, but it was still my hair! She had no right!
I heard my mom downstairs in the kitchen. "Mom!" I yelled, but when I came around the corner, she wasn't the one standing there.
It was my dad.
"Quinn," he said with a smile. "Good morning."
"What're you doing here?" I almost spat out. He sighed.
"I really do hope that you forgive me someday," he said, and I scoffed.
"Why should I ever forgive you? After everything you did to mom and me-"
"I know," he said. "I've worked through a lot of that with your mother, and I'd like to work it out with you, too," he said. "Only when you're ready, though. I know these things take time. Well, I made breakfast if you want anything. It's fruit salad. I know how you are about your weight and everything, even though I think you're just fine as it is, and-"
"I'm...I'm going to school now," I said, grabbing my stuff and walking out the door. Since when had my parents been speaking to each other? Since when had my dad ever tried to earn anyone's forgiveness? That wasn't the Russel Fabray way. No, Russel Fabray was never wrong, and he spent his life passing judgment on others. I could feel a headache coming on, and I hoped seeing Sam would make things a little better. When I got into the building, I couldn't find Sam, but Santana was standing near my locker. I decided to give her a piece of my mind.
"Hey, bitch," she said as I walked closer. "How'd last night go?"
"What the hell did you do to my hair?" I said.
"What, you don't like it?" she asked. "You were raving about it yesterday."
"Don't be cute," I snapped out. "It's...it's...short!"
"Well, yeah, I cut it a little shorter than usual, but only, like, a fraction of an inch. Isn't that what you asked for?"
"What?" I asked, confused, then I looked down at what she was wearing. I felt a little relieved that she wasn't wearing her uniform. "Did Coach call a no-uniforms day or something? She must be getting laid or something."
Santana just looked at me confused. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I just...to tell you the truth, no. I've had a really weird morning," I said. "I tried to call you this morning, but you weren't answering your cell, so I tried the house number, and I think I got it wrong."
"I didn't even know you knew the house number," Santana said. "I don't even remember it. I forgot we even had a house phone."
I shrugged. "I never use mine, either. Anyway, I could've sworn I got it right, but I asked for Mrs. Lopez, and she said it was her, but when I asked for you, she freaked out."
"Wait, did you call my parents' number?" I nodded, and her eyes went wide. "Do you have some sort of death wish? They hate us, remember?"
"Since when?" I asked, but Brittany walked up before Santana could answer.
"Hey, Quinn," she said with a wave. "Hey, baby."
"Hello, beautiful," Santana said before pulling Brittany into a kiss. My eyes about bugged out of my head. Sure, I knew they were hooking up, but this was the middle of the hallway, and they hadn't flagged down any boys beforehand. Besides, them making out was more of a party trick then an everyday attention seeker.
"What're you guys doing?" I finally asked. "People can see you!" They pulled apart.
"So?" Santana said, pulling Brittany back in. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't notice me put my stuff in my locker and walk away. So what did that mean? Were they official now or something? They looked so...happy. Last I'd heard, Santana was trying to win Finn over now that he and Rachel were through. Maybe Brittany and Santana had talked things out? Although Santana wasn't my favorite person in the world, I couldn't help but feel happy for them. I'd had a feeling for a while that they were in love. It was nice that they'd figured all that out.
I just needed to figure out why I felt so out of the loop on everything. Was I really so wrapped up in myself that I hadn't noticed all these little developments until today? It was certainly possible. I decided that I needed to find Sam. He would know how to make me feel better. When I finally saw him by his locker, I was a little confused. His hair looked a little longer than I remembered. Maybe I was more self-centered than I'd thought I was. I made a note to myself to be more observant, then walked up to him.
"Hey, Quinn," he said with a huge smile as I walked towards him. He grabbed me into a hug when I was close enough. This was nice. This was familiar. I pulled away after a few seconds and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Watch it, now, don't wanna make anyone jealous."
I smiled at him. "They should be jealous. We're the two best looking people at this school."
"Well, we're definitely up there," he said, goofy grin still in place. "Hey, are we still on for this weekend?"
I nodded, even though I didn't really remember making plans with him. "Refresh my memory; what're we doing again?"
"You're kidding, right?" he asked, with his eyebrow raised. "You've been looking forward to this for, like, a month." I racked my brain, trying to remember anything, but I was coming up blank.
"Sorry, babe. I've got nothing," I finally said.
"Babe? That's...weird. Anyway, the new Call of Duty comes out tomorrow, and Puckerman pre-ordered it. You, me, Puck, and Santana were gonna hang out all weekend playing while the girls cheer us on, remember?"
"I...what?" Nothing that just came out of his mouth made any sense.
"Oh, don't tell me you're bailing. You're our captain! Well, technically, Puck's our captain, but you're the one that keeps him and Santana from doing stupid stuff because they're cocky." He laughed a little. "Remember that one time they-"
"Sam!" I yelled, getting his attention. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I was hoping that we could just spend the weekend together. Just the two of us." I trailed my hand up and down his arm. He looked a little panicked for a second before he finally relaxed and smiled.
"Okay, I get it now," he said, and I smiled, glad that I'd finally gotten through his bleached-blonde head. "Puckerman put you up to this, right? He's always trying to mess with my head right before a tourney. It's like we're not on the same team. You had me for a second."
"What's going on?" Mercedes asked, looking at my hand on Sam's arm.
"Oh, nothing," Sam said, stepping away from me and putting his arm around her. "Puck asked Quinn to hit on me to freak me out before this weekend." Mercedes looked between the two of us a few times before bursting out laughing.
"Oh, wow," Mercedes said. "Girl, you had me worried that you'd changed teams again for a second. I should've known you wouldn't do me like that." I just stood there, not saying a word. What was I supposed to say? My boyfriend had his arm draped around another girl like it was the most natural thing in the world. I didn't even know that Sam and Mercedes had ever spoken.
"I have to...bathroom," I said, hurrying away. Nothing was making sense. My dad was back? Brittany and Santana were a couple? Sam and Mercedes were hooking up behind my back...and now decided it was alright to rub it in my face? My hair was gone? I played Call of Duty? Nothing was adding up, no matter how hard I tried.
"Maybe someone drugged me," I said out loud to myself. "That...that has to be it."
"Quinn?" I heard someone say as they walked into the bathroom. I looked through the mirror, and there was the last person that I wanted to see at the moment.
"Great," I said under my breath. "Just what I needed."
"Are you alright?" she asked me, walking closer and putting a hand on my cheek. My first instinct was to swat it away, but it was oddly calming, so I let it stay. "Santana said you were acting weird."
"I'm not acting weird," I said, leaning a little into her hand against my will (it just felt too good). "The rest of the world is acting weird."
"This isn't about...this isn't about yesterday, is it?" she asked. I figured she was talking about our fight...or whatever it was.
"That didn't mean anything," I said. "Just forget it happened."
Rachel snatched her hand away. "What...what are you saying."
"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt you yesterday-"
"You didn't," she said in a hurry. "You were very gentle."
What the hell was that supposed to mean? I decided to ignore it and just move on.
"Anyway, I'd just like it if we could move on," I said. "I don't...I don't like seeing you like that."
Rachel recoiled and took a few steps away from me. I was trying to apologize, and she was freaking out. What was I saying wrong?
"You didn't...you didn't seem to mind how I looked so much last night," she said with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry if I don't meet your standards. I would've worked to make myself look better, but you've always told me I was beautiful, so I thought you liked how I looked. Did I look...fat or something?" She crossed her arms over her stomach. "Artie once told me that when I bend over I have fat rolls. I know my body isn't in shape like yours, but I try."
"Wait, what? You're not fat."
"Then was it my breasts?" she said, and I couldn't help but look at her chest.
"No, you're chest is fine," I said, having a surprising amount of difficulty looking away. "What does this have to do with yesterday?"
"You...you said it didn't mean anything. You said I didn't look good. We...we made love for the first time, and it was amazing for me, and I thought it was for you as well, but it seems that you weren't as satisfied. I'm sorry. I'll...I'll do everything I can to make sure that next time things are better."
My mouth had gone completely dry. Rachel...Rachel was saying that we'd slept together?
"Okay, what the fucking hell is going on!" I yelled and she flinched. "We didn't do anything like that last night!"
Tears were pouring down her face at this point. "Did we go too fast? Is that why you're denying it? I thought...I thought that since you told me you loved me, and you were the one to start it...I should've known that you were just trying to do what I wanted-"
"Stop!" I yelled again. "I don't love you!"
Rachel looked like I'd stabbed her in the chest. "Quinn, I know that you're panicking about last night, but please, don't do this. Don't deny me all together."
"Rachel, I don't know what goes on in that sick, twisted head of yours, but I don't love you. I never loved you, so just leave me the fuck alone!"
She looked at me for a second before running out of the bathroom, struggling for breath between sobs. I hadn't meant to hurt her like that. I'd actually wanted to make amends for the moment when she'd walked in the bathroom, but she just kept saying things that didn't make sense. Just like everyone else. I pulled out my phone and decided to have my mom come pick me up. Something was definitely wrong, and I just wanted to lie down and sleep for a few hours...or days. It's when I looked at the date on my phone that things got even weirder.
Right there, on the front of my phone, clear as day, it said: April 13, 2012.
I stared at my phone for a few minutes before I passed out.