Part Seven – Age 16 – Quinn

Fall, Junior year

Quinn stared into her own hollow eyes in the bathroom mirror as she carefully applied her lipstick.  Satisfied, she blotted, gave herself a once-over.  Hair, check.  Wear it up, Quinn dear.  You're sixteen now: a woman, not a schoolgirl.  Outfit, check.  Always keep your clothing neat, feminine.  Female Fabs are like arm-candy, darling, you want to give my son something to be proud of!  Makeup, check.  Cosmetics are important.  With the right makeup, a woman can give off any impression she likes.  Wear it as your mask.  Proper Fabs are not meant to appear too emotional.  Some days, Quinn wished she could banish Mrs. Anderson's voice from her head.  Other days it was welcome, a comfort even.  Those were the days she most wanted to hide.

She grabbed her bag, made to leave the girls' room when the door suddenly swung open, Rachel Berry bursting in like a hurricane.  Quinn barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.  “Quinn!” Rachel exclaimed excitedly, coming too-close, right up under Quinn's chin.  “Thank God, I thought I saw you come in here!  The girls are about to start rehearsal for our number this week, did you forget?”

Quinn took a step back, smiled fakely.  “I'm sorry, I have other plans.”

Rachel looked dumbfounded.  “But—I told you on Monday and reminded you yesterday!  We picked a time when everyone was free!”

“I was free, but Blaine made plans for us to get together with Kurt and Finn this afternoon.  You know how it is.”  Quinn shrugged.  Of course Rachel didn't know how it is.  She was a Nat, and the girl couldn't see past her own big-headedness.

“Blaine would understand.  This is… this is important, Quinn.  If you don't join us we can't cover all the parts for my backup!”

“I'm sorry, Rachel,” Quinn said as sweetly as she could manage.  “I'm going to be late, if you'll excuse me.”

“But—“

“I'll see you tomorrow at practice.”

Rachel's arms crossed as Quinn turned away, and she could hear her huff and stomp her feet.  Always the diva.  “There's a reason why Blaine always wants to hang out with them, you know!  Everybody else sees it, and you're in denial if you haven't yet!”

Quinn ignored her, took a deep breath when the door swung shut behind her and then hurried down the hall, wanting to get as far away as possible before Rachel finished her fit and followed her out.

Blaine had said he would be waiting by Kurt's Navigator; they had plans to drive together to the local theater.  The movie they were seeing this time sounded promising, though Quinn thought that Finn would probably hate it.  Finn always hated the movies Blaine and Kurt chose, but he never put up much of a fuss.  He was a bit dull, but overall Quinn thought that Finn was a pretty good Fab.  Anyone could see that he was devoted to Kurt, however little they had in common, and—plainly put—Finn knew his place.  A Fab that knew his place was something Quinn had been brought up to respect.

Quinn knew her place, too.  Blaine valued her, listened to her opinions, and Quinn never took that for granted.  She had seen enough of the world now to know that the way she was treated wasn't the norm, and the norm… well, the norm wasn't very good.

So when Blaine wanted to go to the movies with Kurt—and Blaine often wanted to go to the movies with Kurt—Quinn didn't protest, didn't complain or offer to mention it if she had plans.  Besides, she enjoyed these double dates.  For some reason Blaine was always more attentive to her around Kurt: holding her hand, getting the doors, his fingers brushing the small of her back, guiding her in a crowd.  Blaine was a tactile person with pretty much everybody, Quinn included, but the extra attention always made her feel happy, special.

He hadn't always been so outgoing.  A year at Dalton had changed him.  Blaine had made friends there, found people he truly trusted, who saw something in him that wasn't a dollar sign or a prestigious last name.  It probably hadn't hurt that every Dalton boy had those things in common. 

Blaine had been happy at Dalton—lead singer of the Warblers—and he'd given it up for her.  Willingly and at a cost, without even being asked.

As she approached the car, Blaine straightened from where he'd been leaning close to Kurt's ear, offering her a broad smile, taking her hand to tug her close and kiss her cheek.  Quinn beamed.  Finn said, “hey, Quinn,” and Kurt gave a little wave, and she smiled at them, too.

“You ready to go?” Blaine asked.  “The movie starts in fifteen minutes.”

Quinn nodded, sliding into the back seat next to Blaine, not even minding when Finn and Kurt began to affectionately bicker over the radio station.

*******

The movie was even better than Quinn had expected.  Blaine's knuckles brushed hers as they reached into the popcorn, and Blaine's hand settled on her knee.  Quinn turned to smile at him when he did it, only to see Kurt and Finn kissing softly just beyond Blaine's head.  Quinn wished Blaine would kiss her, too.  He didn't do it often, and when he did it was usually a perfunctory peck.  Blaine always claimed he wanted to wait for them to be older, was afraid of them getting too carried away, and Quinn really wanted to believe him.  Unfortunately, she had spoken with too many other Fabs, all testifying that their Nats exercised no such restraint.

Kurt and Finn broke apart soon after, and Blaine squeezed her knee, beaming at her in that way he had, and Quinn felt her heart soar in her chest, turned back to the movie and tried to lose herself in the story.  After a while it worked.

When the show was over they decided to go to dinner.  Kurt vetoed Breadstix, much to Finn's dismay, so they drove to the local Sonic instead.  Watching Finn down three double-burgers, Quinn decided he must not mind so much after all.

It was happenstance—a completely insignificant moment.  Kurt was eating his chicken with his fork, staring at Finn in mild disgust and there was… ketchup, of all things, all over his mouth.  And Quinn could see clearly when it became too much, when Kurt couldn't take it anymore.  He huffed, dipping a clean napkin in his water cup and reaching up; he cupped Finn's face, muttered, “look at you, such a slob,” started cleaning him and it was so oddly domestic, so intimate, and Blaine… Blaine reached for her hand, even though she was using it to eat her fries.  Quinn looked over at him with a smile on her face, to show him what they share, yes, we share it too.

Only Blaine wasn't looking at her, not at all.  He was gazing at Kurt with something like… sorrow?  Envy?  Longing? 

And Quinn, who never felt, who never showed feeling, never focused on anything in this world except for Blaine, being perfect for Blaine… she could feel it now, her heart breaking in two.  She could feel it with all the intensity of a building crumbling, a forest felling, Atlantis being swallowed up by the Ocean.

It had taken her years, but now with one look she had finally figured it out.

*******

That night Blaine hesitated before they parted ways for their own rooms, hugging her close, asking are you alright with eyes that bled sincerity and read too much.  Quinn nodded, tightening her arms around him, and then… she let him go.

Quinn went into the bathroom, stood in front of the mirror, thought back on the day, to before, to how different everything felt only hours ago, standing in the restroom at McKinley High.  She washed her face—washed off her mask—with water as freezing as ice.  She let down her hair and changed her clothes, forgoing the pretty nightgowns Blaine's parents were kind enough to buy her in favor of an old t-shirt she'd stolen from Blaine months ago.

She tried to sleep, and she told herself:

Quinn, he loves you.  That boy loves you.  Maybe not that way.  Maybe not like that, but… look at everything you've had together.  Look at how long you've been together.  He dotes on you.  He treats you like a human being.  He fought his parents for you, for the right to attend public school, for the right to give up Dalton and his friends and his happiness there so he could spend all day with you.  You're his best friend.  You're the most important person in his life.

Except, a tiny, deceitful, hateful little voice echoed in her head.  Except maybe you're not, anymore.

*******

The next day Quinn walked into school on Blaine's arm, a perfect caricature, the prettiest doll.  Blaine pulled her along to Kurt's locker, and as they approached Quinn turned to look at Blaine, thought: I'd do anything for you, for you to be happy.

Kurt greeted Blaine first, started talking excitedly about their plans for the weekend, for shopping with Mercedes.  Blaine turned to Quinn with a look that said “you'll come too, right?” and Quinn nodded, tightened her grip on his arm.

It was then that Kurt finally paused to consider her, offering a cheerful, “Good morning, Quinn.  I love that dress!”

Quinn smiled and thanked him and it hardly even hurt; it was hardly even fake.

A woman can give off any impression she likes.

And a Fab could too.