At first, Quinn thinks maybe she admires the girl. She can sing, after all. But really, she can't stand her. Which has to be why she can't stop thinking about her. She's like a virus. Or a poison. Or something equally as awful.
Only she's not awful. Determined, yes. Motivated, for sure. Obnoxious, sometimes. But never awful. Quinn's the one who's horrible and cruel and just plain mean for no real reason other than to keep Rachel Berry far, far away from her.
And then, it happens. This thing with the baby. Being pregnant. Out of wedlock. This is exactly why sexual immorality is bad and wrong and discouraged and not something you're supposed to do. Despite what Rachel said about hormones and teen studies and statistics. Or, god forbid, contraception.
Then again, Quinn secretly wonders if should could have avoided all of this if she hadn't opted out of sex-ed due to religious conflict. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. She knew her boundaries, she knew she was in control of Finn, she knew when to stop before it went too far. With Finn. And sober. Not with Puck. Not on a fat day.
Even so, she could ask forgiveness for this misstep, this baby. There were programs and plans and Mr. Shue's creepy wife. There were places for good girls who were in trouble.
There were also places for girls who were in other kinds of trouble. Say, for example, a girl found herself in a situation where she was having unnatural thoughts about, oh, another girl. There were places to go to fix that. Or, maybe it didn't even need to go that far. A girl could pray. For strength. For guidance. For change.
If she wanted to.
Quinn tried it at first. Praying it away. This was even before the incident with Puck. It was almost like God was punishing her for having those thoughts in the first place. Or maybe He was saving her. Giving her something else to think about. Something to roll through her mind instead of replays of that obscene dance number to that offensive and sexually suggestive 90's song.
When the praying didn't work, she began to rationalize. If God could forgive this whole pregnancy thing, He could forgive a daydream now and again, right? They weren't even dirty daydreams. Just pleasant. And maybe she thought about kissing, just a little. But that was much less than she'd already done.
If only Rachel would just stop being so nice to her. Even if she was just trying to get close to Finn. That was even better. If Rachel stole away her boyfriend, then Rachel would be inaccessible. And maybe Puck could prove himself as a good guy and take care of her and maybe the baby if she somehow ended up keeping it. Her. It was a girl baby.
What if her girl baby grew up to be like this? Not pregnant. But like... this? Scared and worried and terrified and confused. Though, Quinn wasn't so confused about what she was feeling. She just didn't know what to do with it. And all the fear was more about what her family might say or do. And the people from church. Church was her life. She loved God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit, even if she had a crappy way of showing it. Jesus wouldn't want her little baby to be scared and worried and terrified and confused. Jesus loved babies.
And Jesus loved her. Wasn't that what the gold cross on her neck was all about? Love? Ridiculous amounts of it? Then why was she so goddamn afraid of it?
When she was younger, there was a lesson about how you should never curse the Holy Spirit, because it was the worst thing you could possibly do. Unforgivable. Even worse than teen pregnancy. Even worse than having a crush on Rachel Berry. But maybe just barely. After that lesson, Quinn's mind began to reel. What if she accidentally blasphemed and didn't know it? Was thinking about it happening the same thing? For a week she was absolutely convinced she was going to hell. That God would just smite her, then and there.
But He didn't. He let her carry on with her business. Right up to this point.
After prayer and rationalization came a teeny bit of acceptance. And it came right after the Vitamin D incident. Rachel was still hyperactive. Quinn was not. Had not been. At all. Rachel rambled on about the mash-up and how great they were and how beautiful Quinn looked with her hair down and that the dress definitely suited her. Quinn couldn't stop thinking about how Rachel thought she was beautiful. She wanted to pay a compliment in return. But she didn't. She wasn't mean, though.
She saw herself becoming a better person. Because of Rachel. Specifically, Rachel's friendship. She'd extended herself to Quinn. Turned the other cheek even. Rachel would have made a good Christian if she wasn't Jewish. A better Christian than Quinn, anyway.
She went back to praying. Not about change. Just praying. Stuff between herself and God. Stuff about the baby. Stuff about trying to be better at being nice. Stuff about her parents and how to deal with them when they found out.
The funny thing about God, Quinn realized, is that He does things you don't expect.
She always thought she was doing the right thing with the Chastity Club and the Cheerios and the Christ Crusaders. Taking control and not letting people forget it. But she was always miserable. Talking to God was like leaving messages on a big celestial voice mail.
And then, when everything blew up in her face, when it all seemed hopeless, He seemed to reach right down and put things into motion. She'd never tell Rachel that she was a God-send, not to her face. That would inflate her head even more.
Rachel already had a big enough head.
She also had very kissable lips. Which Quinn discovered after she decided that, if God was going to send Rachel Berry to help her through this time in her life, He probably wouldn't mind if they made out.