A/N: This is a different take on Quinn than I've done previously. It's not what it might sound like at first, hence the T rating. Enjoy.
Sandi had been looking at Quinn for the last 30 seconds, her left eyebrow rising steadily.
Something was different about the vapid, fashion-crazed redhead. Her carefully manicured and polished fingernails drummed impatiently on her desk. Her eyes darted between the wall clock and the pink doodles she made on her paper. Her legs rubbed together unceasingly. Was she itchy? Uncomfortable? Approaching a 'certain time'? (Probably not, as Sandi wasn't there yet herself.) Her best friend was acting, for lack of a better word, weird.
"Gee, Ka-WINN," she began unctuously. "Are you-"
"What?" Quinn snapped at her.
Sandi was so surprised by the interruption, she forgot what she was going to say. "Um...uh..."
"Okay, fine. Leave me alone," Quinn crossed her arms and stared fixedly into space. Sandi sent her a few worried looks, but was quiet for the rest of the final period.
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief when the bell finally rang, stuffing her books and accessories into her pack so quickly that Sandi barely had time to ask her about the after-school Fashion Club meeting.
"I can't make it," she said sharply. Without any further explanation she waltzed out, leaving Stacy and Tiffany stumped-not that such a thing was hard to accomplish.
She got out of the building before the three J's could even meet her at the exit, walking briskly down the sidewalk toward home. Today was one of those days she always hoped for: Mom and Dad were working late, and Daria was busy with Jane, instead of sitting around the house like always. Quinn had some alone time at last, and she wasn't going to waste a minute.
She made it into the house without incident and breathed a sigh of relief. With the door locked solidly behind her, she peeked inside each room just to make sure she was the only one there. Next she drew all the blinds and stood in the middle of the family room, stifling a giggle of nervous excitement.
Her shoes came first. A good outfit started from the ground up, and one couldn't go wrong with fine, full-grain Italian leather-but now it was just in the way. She kicked the shoes aside impatiently. Two white socks followed them seconds later. Quinn grabbed the collar of her 100% cotton pink shirt and lifted it gently over her head, revealing an expanse of creamy white skin. The yellow butterfly was gone, but not the ones in her stomach. Her hands shook ever so slightly as she set it on the carpet.
I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought to herself. No matter how many times she did it, it was always that way.
The soft, snug designer flare jeans were next. She pushed them down most of the way and stepped out of them, folding them neatly on the floor. Take care of your clothes, was one of her cardinal rules-even when you were escaping from them.
Only two things left to go. Quinn's heart hammered in her chest and she looked around again, needlessly, to make sure no one could see her from outside. If someone saw her doing this and it got around school, she'd never live it down. But it was worth the risk to do it just once in a while. Just once in a while, not hurting anybody, getting back in touch with who-and what-she really was.
She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra (Victoria's Secret, of course).
I've been waiting so long...
"Go Quinny! It's your birthday! Go Quinny! It's your birthday!" the youngest Morgendorffer chanted as she scampered wildly through the house.
It wasn't really her birthday. But she was still (un)dressed for the occasion.
She stopped in front of her bedroom mirror. "You're so beautiful, Quinn," she giggled to her nude reflection, all smooth curves and perfect skin, moving in effortless poise. Or was the reflection talking to her? "I TOLD you it doesn't matter what you wear!"
And some days, it really didn't.