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Rachel is leaning against the wall in the greenroom, her green face-paint drying.
Quinn stands on the other side of the room, using a hand mirror to touch up her hair. Rachel may or may not be staring, but her eyes dart away as soon as she thinks she might have been spotted. They haven’t spoken outside of rehearsal for nearly a week. No conversation, no contact, no blithely thrown barbs in the hallways, it feels… strange.
She watches as Mister Schue walks up to Quinn and places an encouraging hand on her shoulder. He then turns to the room, a smile to match his hand. “Okay, guys,” she says, his voice confident. “It’s showtime. I know this is your first performance for this kind of audience, but really…” he trails off, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “I don’t have much else to say. You’ve heard it all. I’m proud of how you’ve all pulled through these last few weeks. You’re all going to crush it tonight, and then it’s on to sectionals. And that’s just the beginning.” He claps his hands together. “Alright everyone. Break a leg.”
Rachel takes a breath.
“Mister Schuester!”
Will Schuester sighed and turned to face her, trying and failing to keep a resigned look from his features. “Yes, Rachel?”
“I’d like a word about the casting for the musical,” she said.
Mister Schue frowned. “You got the role you asked for, didn’t you? The lead role.”
“Well, yes, of course, but I had some thoughts on those you’ve cast opposite me. I mean, Noah as Fiyero? Finn is a much more experienced performer—”
“Yeah,” Santana interrupted from the back row, looking up from her nail-filing exercise, her patented look of vague disinterest fixed on her face, “but his ridiculous mohawk kinda makes him look like a scarecrow.”
“Hey,” Puck defended, actually sounding offended on the behalf of his (admittedly juvenile) hairstyle.
Rachel looked at Santana. “You know that Fiyero is the scarecrow?” she asked incredulously.
Santana just rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Rachel decided to let it go and turned back to their teacher. “Anyway, as I was saying, I had some concerns about the casting. And, unfortunately, I have to say that your casting of Noah as Fiyero is a secondary concern. I’m worried about your choice of Quinn for Glinda. I simply don’t think she has the vocal range necessary for the part, and I truthfully don’t know if I can work with somebody that… volatile.” She knew it wasn’t a particularly nice thing to say about her teammates in front of them, but sometimes publicly shaming Mister Schuester was the only way to get things done. “I think Mercedes would be a much better fit,” Rachel finished.
“Oh, nuh uh,” Mercedes interjected. “You are not gonna start defending me now, just ‘cause you don’t want to get along with Quinn. I don’t want Glinda. I wanted Elphaba, but you got that, as usual, so now I wanna sit back and watch this drama.”
“You think I wanted to work with you?” Quinn asked Rachel, speaking up for the first time. “I was hoping it would be Mercedes.”
Rachel turned to her. “And why wouldn’t you want to work with me? I’m an excellent scene partner.”
“Maybe because you’re kind of insufferable,” Santana drawled.
“It’s no secret we don’t get along, Rachel,” Quinn reasoned. “I’ve been a bitch to you all year, and you keep trying to steal my boyfriend.”
“Alright!” Mister Schuester said. “That’s enough sniping. My casting decisions are final. Rachel, Quinn, you’re just going to have to learn to get along. Maybe working on this together will be good for you,” he offered with what he probably thought was an encouraging smile.
Santana rolled her eyes again. “Gross.”
Rachel decided to be professional. She wasn’t going to give Quinn the satisfaction. “Fine. Regardless of my reservations, I’ll give this performance my all as always.” She flashed a show-smile at her teammates.
Quinn pursed her lips and breathed out through her nose. “Sure. I guess we can try.”
Mister Schue’s smile widened. “Great! I think this is going to be really great, you guys.”
Finn raised his hand. “Who the hell is Boq?”
The next afternoon, Rachel caught Quinn as she was getting things out of her locker at the end of her day, Santana and Brittany standing behind her.
“Quinn! Do you have a moment?”
Quinn turned to her, looking irritated. “What do you want, Berry?”
Rachel swallowed. “Well, I was hoping we could get together to rehearse soon. We are the two lead characters, after all, and I think it would be prudent for us to put in some extra rehearsal hours, one-on-one.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“She said no, Dwarf,” Santana bit out.
“I’m not talking to you, Santana,” Rachel told her shortly.
“Do I look like I give a crap?”
Rachel and Quinn both ignored her. Quinn looked at Rachel and said, “Look. We have to work together. Fine. I know neither of us want to, but fine. But if you seriously think I want to do extra rehearsals with you, you’re in for a surprise.”
Rachel placed her hands on her hips. “I’d really like to give this performance my all. As I’m sure you know, there wasn’t a musical last year, and so this is the first chance the students and parents of McKinley are going to have to really see me shine, you see?”
“Listen, Berry, you’re just going to have to do your extra rehearsals by yourself, okay? I’m busy with Cheerios.”
“Really, Quinn? Do you need every night per week to learn how to do a backflip?”
“Cheerleading is about a lot more than that,” Quinn snorted.
“Well, yes, but does it really need as much of your time as a musical?”
Quinn took a step towards her. Her chest was heaving and her eyebrows were drawn down. “Look. I know you’re convinced you’re the next Judy Garland or whatever, but unlike your starry-eyed, dream-girl delusions, I’m actually going to make something of myself outside this town, and cheerleading is my ticket out. I am not about to let your childish roleplay get in the way of that.”
Brittany leaned over to whisper in Santana’s ear. “I thought you said roleplay was something you should do with someone you like.”
Rachel was momentarily thrown by that comment, but she refocussed on Quinn. She blinked a couple of times, trying to fight back the tears she could feel prickling at backs of her eyes. “I think you’d enjoy it if you gave it a chance.” It was a risky strategy, trying to appeal to Quinn’s elusive better nature, but it was all she had left.
Quinn just rolled her eyes. “I doubt it, but anyway, that’s not really the point.”
“Why did you even audition if you hate acting so much?” Rachel asked.
“I told you, I wanted to work with Mercedes.”
“You must’ve known that Mister Schuester might choose me.”
Quinn leaned in. “Maybe I just like annoying you,” she said, under her breath.
Rachel took a step back. She knew that she was ceding some ground, but she was suddenly quite uncomfortable with the whole situation. Still, she couldn’t let Quinn know she’d gotten to her, so she threw her hair back over one shoulder. “Fine. Well, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to rehearse in glee club. I’ll just have to rest assured that, due to my willingness to commit to this part, I will outshine all of you, in Wicked and in life.”
“Ugh,” Santana interrupted. “Really?”
Rachel gave her a curt nod. “Absolutely.”
Quinn snorted. “Whatever. Come on, girls. Coach wants to see us.”
She can see Quinn, standing in her gorgeous pink gown, in the other wing of the stage. Her performance really has shaped up wonderfully, even if they're probably never going to talk to each other ever again.
Mercedes finishes her part of the song, and Rachel takes a deep breath and steps onto the stage to make her debut.
“Did that really just happen?” she sing-songs. “Have I actually understood? This weird quirk I’ve tried to suppress and hide is a talent that could…” She glances over at Quinn, over Mercedes’ shoulder, who looks like she’s fighting the beginnings of a smile. She shakes off her lingering curiosity and carries on with the song. “…Help me meet the Wizard? If I make good?”
She tears her gaze from Quinn and looks out into her audience, taking another slow, deliberate breath. “So I’ll make good.” She steps forward, tips her head upwards slightly, and launches into the body of the song.
When I meet the Wizard,
Once I prove my worth,
And then I meet the Wizard,
What I've waited for since, since birth.
And with all his Wizard wisdom,
By my looks, he won't be blinded,
Do you think the Wizard is dumb?
Or like Munchkins so small-minded?
No, he'll say to me I see who you truly are,
A girl on whom I can rely.
And that's how we'll begin:
The Wizard and I!
A girl on whom I can rely, Rachel thinks to herself. So much for that.
Normally, Rachel either ate in the choir room by herself or outside on the stands with Kurt. They weren’t… friends, exactly, but there was a quiet alliance there. She wanted to run lines with him today – he was playing the Wizard – but he’d apparently decided to spend his lunch break working on some Beyoncé number with Tina – in the choir room! – and it was pouring rain outside, so she decided to brave the lunch hall.
She had to do a double take when she got there, though, because Quinn was sitting at a smaller table, away from the usual cheerleaders’ table. By herself.
It only took her a moment to decide. She steeled herself and walked over to Quinn’s table.
“Hello, Quinn,” she greeted.
Quinn’s eyes snapped to hers. They were glistening with… something. “Leave me alone, Rachel.”
Rachel swallowed. “Quinn? Why are you over here by yourself?”
“I said, leave me alone,” Quinn gritted out through her teeth.
“Well,” Rachel said. “I’m going to sit here. This is a free country, after all. But if you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to.”
Quinn just rolled her eyes and looked back down at her sandwich.
Rachel was almost done with her pasta salad when she looked back over at Quinn. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Quinn glared at her. “I said, no.”
“Why aren’t you sitting with the other cheerleaders?”
“Well, like you said, Berry, it’s a free country. Now leave… me… alone!” She had that flushed, chest-heaving look again.
Rachel rolled her own eyes. “I think you should start taking this play seriously, Quinn. It might help you learn how to express yourself in a… healthier way.”
Quinn fixed her with a glare. “Like you care about me. You just need me for your play.”
Rachel chanced a smile. “Well, it can’t hurt.” And maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but part of her thought Quinn’s glare lost just a bit of its intensity. “Did you have an argument with Santana? Or with… with Finn?”
And now the glare was back, full throttle. “Oh, I see. You’re just fishing for information on Finn. My boyfriend. Again.”
Rachel held up her hands in surrender. “I’m not, I promise you. I’m just trying to offer my help.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” Quinn said. “So you might as well give up.”
“I’m very persistent, Quinn,” Rachel told her, probably needlessly.
“I’ve noticed,” Quinn remarked dryly.
“Did you just want some peace and quiet, maybe?”
“Yes,” Quinn said quickly, “now go away.”
Rachel continued, undeterred. “No, normally when you want time by yourself you’re reading a book, it can’t be that.”
“It very much can.”
“And you’re not studying either, so…” An idea dawned on her. “You wanted me to sit with you, didn’t you?”
Quinn just mostly looked amused at this point. “How do you figure? You don’t normally eat in here.”
Huh. “Well, maybe you bribed Kurt and Tina into using the choir room.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you want to read lines with me but you’re too proud to admit it,” she concluded, “especially in front of your cheerleader friends, so you had to engineer a scenario in which we could be alone together in a manner that would seem accidental.”
The amusement was pretty total, now. “Or, I wanted a moment to myself, to think, and you walked in and sat down because you’re the only person in the school who for some reason isn’t scared of me.”
Rachel took a second to digest that. Just a second, though. “What did you want to think about?”
That glare was back. “I know you like the sound of your own voice, Berry, but normally thinking doesn’t also involve talking.”
Rachel was pretty much done with her food, so she made to put away her Tupperware. “Well, I hope arguing with me has taken your mind off of whatever’s bothering you. I’m sure you get something out of antagonising me.” She stood up and walked away.
Rachel has always felt that What Is This Feeling? sums up her relationship with Quinn quite well: that hostility, that underlying curiosity and mild obsession, that magnetic sense of something.
It’s their first duet in the show, and even though they haven’t properly spoken in a while, their rehearsals have been going well, and she feels ready for the song, and everything that is to follow.
They stand side by side, facing the audience but with their heads pointed at each other. Their voices are slightly robotic as they begin the song in sync. “There’s been some confusion over rooming here at Shiz…”
Rachel looks out to the crowd, raising the tone of her voice and putting on a resigned smile. “But of course, I’ll care for Nessa,” she sings.
Quinn exaggerates a roll of her eyes while delivering her line. “But of course, I’ll rise above it!”
They look back to each other, just a glance, before looking back to their audience. “For I know that's how you'd want me to respond, yes. There's been some confusion for you see my roommate is...”
Rachel trails off, letting Quinn sing her solo lines.
“Unusually and exceedingly peculiar, and altogether quite impossible to describe...”
Rachel has to suppress a smile of amusement at Quinn’s affect, and it occurs to her for the first time that Quinn really was the perfect casting for this part. She draws her mouth into a straight line and tilts her head to the side. “Blonde,” she interjects shortly, drawing a light chuckle from the audience.
The two of them turn to face each other fully, and Rachel feels herself slipping into the kind of oppositional chemistry that had defined their relationship until a few weeks ago. It feels natural, and easy, if not all that enjoyable.
Quinn starts. “What is this feeling, so sudden and new?”
Rachel answers. “I felt the moment I laid eyes on you?” She suddenly feels thirteen again, seeing Quinn Fabray for the first time, and feeling so small, so singled out, even before the other girl opened her mouth, insulted her outfit and laughed as a couple of football players tossed slushies over her.
Quinn presses an open hand to her own chest, her eyes comedically wide. “My pulse is rushing!”
Rachel tosses her head back and forth a few times. “My head is reeling!”
Quinn slaps her hands to her cheeks. “My face is flushing!”
They both spin quickly to face the audience to sing the chorus together.
What is this feeling?
Fervid as a flame, does it have a name?
Yes. Loathing!
Unadulterated loathing!
“For your face!” Quinn gasps.
“Your voice!” Rachel responds, voice equally manic.
Quinn throws her hands into the air in exasperation. “Your clothing!”
As they build to the first crescendo, they sing in unison.
Let's just say—I loathe it all!
Every little trait however small,
Makes my very flesh begin to crawl,
With simple utter loathing!
There's a strange exhilaration,
In such total detestation.
It's so pure, so strong!
Though I do admit, it came on fast,
Still I do believe that it can last,
And I will be loathing, loathing you my whole life long!
The song is exaggerated and ridiculous, of course, but that’s not entirely out of character for their characters – or for themselves and their relationship. The barely disguised innuendo is also not lost on Rachel (or at least half of the internet, if her research is to be believed).
Like she says, it’s kind of the perfect song for them.
The rain had eased up a bit by the time the school day and glee club had ended. It was still drizzling, though, so Rachel made to get across the parking lot towards her car as quickly as possible. Right before she got there, she spotted Quinn. Alone, again. She was leaned against the hood of her car, scowling at her phone. She had on her Cheerios coat, shielding her from the worst of the weather.
“Quinn.”
Quinn looked up with a roll of her eyes. “I’m still not doing extra rehearsals. Go home, Rachel.”
“You called me Rachel,” Rachel pointed out. “At lunch, too.”
Quinn shrugged. “So?”
“You never call me Rachel. It’s always Berry, or something… less savoury. And, we had fun, rehearsing in glee today. I thought we could reopen the conversation.”
“How about no. I didn’t even really do much in glee. It was you and Puck, and Finn and Tina.”
Well, okay, maybe that was mostly true, but… “Okay, then, so you admit you need more practice?”
Quinn chuckled. “I’m good, thanks.”
Rachel risked an eyeroll of her own. “Okay, Quinn. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have morning glee, remember.”
“Yes, Rachel, I have memorised my schedule now that we’re three months into the school year.”
Rachel chewed her lip. “Right. Okay. Well, yes. Tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Berry,” Quinn said, emphasising her name.
“Goodnight, Quinn.” Rachel walked over to her car and unlocked the door. She sat down, turned the key in the ignition, and… nothing. “Shit,” she muttered. She tried again. Still nothing. “Ugh.”
She pulled out her phone and pulled up Kurt’s contact.
He picked up after two rings. “Hello?”
“Kurt, it’s Rachel.”
“Yes, I did save your number, believe it or not.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, which was apparently a thing she did now. “My car broke down, I’m stuck at school.”
“I’m already at home, Rachel.”
“No, I know, I just. Do you think your dad could come look at it for me?” she asked.
“Sorry,” Kurt said on an exhale. “He’s out of town until tomorrow. Fishing trip in Michigan.” He paused. “Do you want me to come pick you up? I know your dads are working late.”
She frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Every time we have lunch together is basically just you talking at me,” he commented, his voice dry and distantly amused. “I do listen. Occasionally. I know they don’t get home until seven.”
“… Right.” She sighed. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp rapping on her window. She turned to see Quinn, looking amused. “Kurt, can you hold on a second?”
An exasperated sigh came down the phone. “Sure.”
She put her phone down on the passenger seat and wound down her window. “Quinn. Did you change your mind?”
Quinn looked at her in disbelief for just a second – it was a look she was familiar with – and shook her head. “Is everything okay?”
Rachel slumped. “My car won’t start, and Mister Hummel can’t come look at it until tomorrow, and my dads are working late. I was just on the phone with Kurt, seeing if he could give me a ride.”
Quinn nodded. “Hmm. Well, how about I give you a ride? Since I already have my car right here.”
“Really?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure your house is on my way home, so,” Quinn said with a shrug.
Rachel considered, briefly, that her offer might be some kind of trick, but… “If you’re sure, that would be much appreciated. Let me just tell Kurt.”
She did just that, and then got out of her car. She had to suppress a smile when Quinn held open her own car’s passenger-side door for her.
Quinn climbed into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. They sat in (mostly) comfortable silence for a moment, Rachel just watching how carefully Quinn drove her car. Eventually, she asked, “What were you frowning at? On your phone?”
Quinn rolled her eyes again. “None of your business, Berry. I’m doing you a favour, that doesn’t make us best friends.” She took a breath. “Where’s your house, again?”
Rachel swallowed. “Birch Hill Road, thank you.”
“That’s on the east side of town, right?” Quinn checked.
Rachel could have sworn that Quinn had said her house was on her own way home, but still. Maybe she just wanted to be sure. “Yes.”
Another silence. This one was a little more awkward.
Growing sick of the quiet, Rachel asked, “May I put on some music? I presume you have an aux in here.”
Quinn scoffed. “Really? I don’t really think you and I have much in common, musically, Berry.”
“Well, I thought we could listen to some of our duet pieces for Wicked.”
“Fine,” Quinn bit out. “But no singing along.”
“But that could be most beneficial, your car looks like it has excellent acoustics, and—”
“I said no, Berry,” Quinn interrupted. “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
Rachel rolled her own eyes. “Okay, fine. I know just where we can start.”
Popular is kind of a unique song in the show, because it’s effectively a solo that Glinda sings at Elphaba, as the most peculiar kind of serenade.
Rachel is sitting on her little wooden chair as Quinn floats around her like a fairy godmother, starting the song. “Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I…” she trills, glancing out to the audience. “And let’s face it, who isn’t less fortunate than I?” she asks with an exaggerated wink. The crowd chuckles.
My tender heart tends to start to bleed,
And when someone needs a makeover,
I simply have to take over!
I know, I know exactly what they need!
It’s such a funny song, and Rachel is struck again that, even though Quinn isn’t exactly known for her sense of humour (and Rachel refuses to count her petty insults as jokes, cleverly conceived as they might sometimes be), she’s crushing the humorous elements of this roll. Her tone, her facial expressions, just the right amount of audience engagement… it’s all pretty much perfect.
And even in your case,
Though it's the toughest case I've yet to face,
Don't worry, I'm determined to succeed!
Follow my lead,
And yes indeed, you will be…
Popular!
You're gonna be popular!
I'll teach you the proper poise,
When you talk to boys,
Little ways to flirt and flounce,
Ooh!
I'll show you what shoes to wear!
How to fix your hair!
Everything that really counts to be…
Popular!
I'll help you be popular!
You'll hang with the right cohorts,
You'll be good at sports,
Know the slang you've got to know,
So let's start,
'Cause you've got an awfully long way to go!
The audience is laughing fully now, and Rachel once again considers the mildly alarming number of parallels between her increasingly complicated relationship with Quinn and the increasingly complicated relationship between Elphaba and Glinda.
She just hopes she doesn’t end up having to fake her own death too.
“Are you sure you won’t come inside?”
They were sitting in Quinn’s car, on Rachel’s driveway. They’d been there for a minute. Rachel really didn’t want to point out the fact that they’d both ended up singing along to Popular, even though Quinn had mostly sung under her breath, fighting a small smile the whole way. Oh, well. It was mostly a Glinda solo, Rachel knew, so Quinn could very well practice that particular song by herself.
Quinn licked her lips. “I could use a glass of water, actually.”
Rachel grinned. “Excellent.”
She let them into the house. She caught Quinn smiling slightly at the range of photographs of a young Rachel decorating the foyer, but chose not to comment on it.
She poured Quinn her water, and one for herself as well. She leaned lightly against the countertop, longing for the icebreaking music of their car ride there.
“Thank you,” Quinn said quietly.
Rachel smiled. “You’re welcome. You did me a real favour, Quinn, and I always repay my debts.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Berry.”
Rachel nibbled her lower lip for just a second, hesitating. “Of course, one glass of water is hardly equal to you driving out of your way to help me get home,” she said, quietly and lilting with a slight curiosity – the kind that would hopefully provoke Quinn into a response without being strong enough to scare her into shutting down and throwing up those walls of hers.
Quinn frowned. She opened her mouth as though she was about to dismiss the allegation, but then closed it again and sighed through a slight, resigned smile. “How did you know?”
Rachel smiled a little wider. “You said I was on your way home, but you kept asking me for directions on the way here. So why did you do it?”
Quinn arched an eyebrow. This was more familiar territory. “What, you don’t believe I was just being nice?”
“Not really.”
Quinn choked out a surprised laugh, poorly attempting to hide it with a cough. “Damn, Berry. That was harsh.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. She raised a hand, intending to reach out and touch Quinn’s arm through her coat, but the other girl flinched, ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably. “Quinn,” she said softly. “Why don’t you want to go home?”
Quinn returned the eyeroll. “I really was just being nice, Rachel. It does happen from time to time.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Rachel insisted. “Not to me.”
“Thank you for the water,” Quinn said. She sighed. “I should go.”
Rachel lowered her arm, fiddling with her hands. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want. We could… hang out, for a little while.”
“Rachel, it’s you and me. We don’t hang out.”
“But we could,” Rachel said, trying not to sound too eager.
Quinn sucked on her lower lip for just a second. “What would we even do?” She breathed out sharply through her nose. “And don’t suggest rehearsal.”
Rachel gave her a half-smile for that. “How did you know?” she teased.
“I don’t know if you know this, Berry, but you’re a little predictable.”
“It’s important.”
“Sure.” Quinn shrugged. She walked towards the living room, kicking off her tennis shoes as she went. “I presume you have cable?”
Rachel chuckled, slightly bewildered at the sudden shift in demeanour, and the casual way in which Quinn had removed her shoes. She followed the other girl through.
Rachel poked Quinn in the shoulder. “Quinn,” she whispered.
It was just after nine o’clock. Quinn had fallen asleep without saying a word halfway into the movie, and she’d just looked so… peaceful that Rachel had decided to let her rest.
Quinn murmured, which made Rachel smile.
“Quinn, wake up.”
Quinn’s eyes flickered open. When she registered Rachel leaning over her, she awakened fully and jolted upright. She groaned. “Where am I?”
“At my house,” Rachel told her with a chuckle. “You fell asleep in front of the television.”
Quinn blinked a few times, as though to clear her sleep-fogged mind. “What time is it?”
Rachel double-checked her watch. “Twenty-one oh seven.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows, and then mild alarm settled on her features. “As in nine PM?”
“Yep,” Rachel confirmed. “My dads said you can stay the night if you’d like. Your car is here anyway.”
Quinn groaned again, getting to her feet. “No, I should go.” She exhaled. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep for so long.” The statement was accusatory, but it wasn’t especially angry. It wasn’t even said as though it was for Rachel’s ears.
“I know,” Rachel conceded. “I know, I just…” she trailed off.
“Why didn’t you?”
Rachel shrugged. “You looked like you could use the rest. I know how hard you work, with glee and cheerleading and all of those extra classes you take that you’d rather the other popular kids not know about.”
“Right,” Quinn snorted. “Well, I can sleep at home.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you out.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Sure, okay.”
They walked to the front door and Rachel opened it. “Thank you for driving me home, Quinn.”
“Don’t let me sleep so long next time,” Quinn said. “Call that my reward.”
“Next time?”
Another eyeroll. “Goodnight, Berry.”
“Goodnight, Quinn.”
I’m Not That Girl is Rachel’s next big solo in the show, and it’s always been one of her favourites from the Wicked soundtrack. It’s a simple, tragic, romantic ballad, an expression of heartbroken jealousy that Rachel had often found herself applying to her doomed crush on Finn at the beginning of the semester.
They’ve set up the scene simply, just Rachel as Elphaba standing centre-stage under a single spotlight.
Hands touch, eyes meet,
Sudden silence, sudden heat,
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl,
He could be that boy,
But I'm not that girl.
She’s never really thought before about the ambiguity of those lyrics, one of the subtextual reasons for the incompatibility of the doomed romance at the heart of the song.
Don't dream too far,
Don't lose sight of who you are,
Don't remember that rush of joy,
He could be that boy,
I'm not that girl.
Rachel is all too familiar with the dampening effect that heartbreak can have on dreaming, the hopelessness of an unrequited crush, and all of the messy, complicated emotions that come with being a teenager in love.
Every so often we long to steal,
To the land of what-might-have-been,
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel,
When reality sets back in.
And now, for some reason, she’s just thinking about Quinn, and how lovely it had felt to—
Blithe smile, lithe limb,
She who's winsome, she wins him,
Gold hair with a gentle curl,
That's the girl he chose,
And Heaven knows,
I'm not that girl.
Okay, that verse is just so blatantly gay, it’s ridiculous, and—
Don't wish, don't start,
Wishing only wounds the heart,
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl,
There's a girl I know,
He loves her so.
She’s not even acting as a single tear slips down her cheek, thinking of how hurt she was when Quinn—
Shit.
I’m not that girl.
Quinn wasn’t in school the next day, or the day after that. Rachel asked Mister Schuester, but he hadn’t heard anything, and neither had Miss Pillsbury (and if her suspicions about the two of them were correct, it was unlikely one of them knew something about a student that the other didn’t). She’d tried to get the truth out of Principal Figgins, but he’d refused to tell her anything. Rachel should probably have been more concerned that their inept principal had better privacy standards than the literal guidance counsellor, but she had other things to worry about for the time being.
The show was coming together, for the most part, but Mister Schue had told her that unless Quinn was back in school the following week, they’d have to either recast her or postpone the show. Mercedes was still refusing to fill in as Glinda, and none of the other girls in the club were familiar enough with the music to switch in at such a late date (or claimed not to, in Santana’s case), which left Rachel with just one choice: to try and find Quinn.
She tried to find Sue Sylvester, but the woman’s office was empty and the only thing she found in the Cheerios locker room was Brittany and Santana showering together. The parking lot was also missing Quinn’s car, obviously, along with Sue’s Le Car. Rachel’s car, however, was as good as new, so she got behind the wheel and set off.
And when she got home, Quinn Fabray was waiting on her doorstep with no makeup on, sweats in place of her usual cheerleading costume, and the remnants of tears in her eyes.
“What?” Kurt’s voice was pitchy and shocked, pretty much as Rachel had expected. She rolled her eyes. (She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.)
“Are you really going to make me repeat myself, Kurt? It was quite the saga.”
She could almost picture the look of disbelieving exasperation that accompanied the sigh that echoed down the line. “Just the ending,” Kurt said, though Rachel was sure that he would love nothing more than to hear the whole dramatic tale from the top.
“Quinn was kicked out by her father,” she told him. “She won’t tell me why, but there are only a few things I could think of.”
“And so… you’ve decided that she’s a lesbian,” Kurt drawled. His inflection wasn’t questioning, but Rachel could tell he didn’t find the idea to be all that believable.
Rachel huffed. “There are only so many things it could be. And she’s obviously not pregnant.”
“And why don’t you just ask her?” Kurt asked, his voice adopting that vaguely condescending tone with which adults often address small children.
“I did,” she informed him.
“Good God, Rachel,” he exclaimed. “Why?”
She frowned. “You literally just told me I should.”
“Because I didn’t think you actually would!”
“Are you trying to reverse psychology me, Kurt?” she challenged.
“Yes,” he admitted easily. “Obviously.” He sighed. “What did she say, anyway? When you asked if she was kicked out for being gay?”
Rachel sighed then, too. “She just arched her eyebrow and told me there was no reason for her to have told her parents about that.”
“True enough,” Kurt said neutrally.
Rachel’s frown returned. “Whose side are you on, here, Kurt?”
“I’m just here for the gossip, Rachel, you know I don’t particularly like either of you.”
“Well,” Rachel said, lips tight, “thank you, Kurt. You’ve been a great help.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and Rachel almost hung up. Then, Kurt said, “On the off chance that your insane theory is accurate… don’t push too hard. I don’t particularly like her, but I do know what it’s like to be closeted and terrified. Just… help her with the here and now. See where things go.” He paused again. “Who knows?” He sounded almost… intrigued. “Maybe you’ll get a real friend out of this.”
Rachel snorted lightly. “Alternatively, you could just admit that you and I are friends.”
“God, no,” Kurt rushed out. He sighed. “Look, Rachel, just be careful, okay?”
“Thank you, Kurt,” Rachel repeated quietly, sincerely this time.
He chuckled. “My pleasure.”
“Goodnight,” she said.
Another light laugh. “Goodnight, Miss Berry. And good luck.”
As soon as the call disconnected, there was a quiet knock at Rachel’s bedroom door. It was considerably softer than the knocks usually employed by either of her dads, so she called out, “Come in, Quinn.”
Quinn opened the door and slipped inside, closing it gently behind her. She’s changed into the pyjamas that Rachel had given her. (Even though Quinn was a few inches taller, they had roughly the same length legs, and the shirt was loose enough that none of her midriff was exposed.) “I just wanted to say thank you,” Quinn said, more open and unsure than Rachel had even seen her – even earlier, when she’d found her on the doorstep.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Rachel insisted. “I am curious, though,” she continued, patting her bed beside her, inviting Quinn to sit down. “Why did you choose me? You do have proper friends.” She was thinking of Kurt as she said it, his inquisitively amused intonation ringing in the back of his head.
Quinn joined her on the bed. “Do I?” she asked after a moment. “Santana only hangs out with me because we’re in the same social caste, and Brittany only likes me because Santana does. The other girls on the Cheerios… they’re just scared of me. Which is, y’know, fine. It’s the closest to respect you can get in High School. But it doesn’t mean they’re going to be there for me in a crisis.”
Rachel mulled over that deeply sad statement for a while. “But you thought I would be?”
Quinn laughed. Her laugh was… beautiful, even as it covered heartache. “Believe it or not, Berry, I have noticed how absurdly nice you are, even to people who really don’t deserve it.” She smiled sadly. “I know I wouldn’t be nearly as kind to you if the situations were reversed.”
“I know,” Rachel said. “But that really doesn’t matter. You were a human being in need, and I was able to help you.”
Quinn frowned. “So… it wasn’t anything to do with me, personally?” she asked. “I was just a charity case?”
Rachel resisted the urge to affectionately roll her eyes at Quinn’s almost-endearing insecurity. She got the sense that that wouldn’t be the most appreciated response in the current moment. Instead, she reached out carefully, gently placing her hand over Quinn’s. She wanted to squeeze it in reassurance, but she resisted that desire, too. “No, Quinn. I wanted to help you.” She looked at the ground. “Maybe there was part of me that wanted to prove something. That even you, I wouldn’t turn away from in their time of need.”
Of course, the pair of them had exchanged barbs countless times, and Quinn had tortured Rachel for years, but here, for the first time, Quinn seemed almost taken aback by Rachel’s unusually bare response. “Like I said,” Quinn responded quietly, “I wouldn’t have been nearly as kind.”
Rachel did squeeze her hand, then. “What happened, Quinn?”
Quinn pulled back. “I…” She looked away. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Rachel pursed her lips. “Okay. I, um, I don’t want to push.”
That earned her a nod. “Thank you.”
“But—”
“Rachel,” Quinn warned, though she seemed to be suppressing a small, incredulous chuckle.
Rachel cracked a grin. “Sorry. You can take your time.” She licked her lips nervously. “My own curiosity gets the best of me, sometimes.”
Quinn arched her eyebrow. “We can talk about it,” she said, uncertain but steady. “Just… not tonight.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, nodding, surer this time.
Quinn tossed her hair – tied back in a loose ponytail, hanging lower than the mandated Cheerios high pony – over her shoulder, reminding Rachel a little of herself. “I’ll be okay,” she said, almost to herself. “I need to sleep, and reset. I’ll be okay.”
“You will be,” Rachel agreed, mildly awed at Quinn’s resilience. She watched as the other girl got to her feet and made to leave the room.
“Goodnight, Rachel.”
Rachel smiled. “Goodnight, Quinn.”
This is it. The signature. The showpiece. Her best chance to make her case to be the lead soloist at Sectionals. And she can hardly even think about it.
“Elphaba!” Quinn snaps, her eyebrows drawn down in mock-fury, and why is she so darn cute when she does that? “Why couldn’t you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle?” She rolls her eyes. “I hope you’re happy! I hope you’re happy now! I hope you’re happy now you’ve hurt your cause forever, I hope you think you’re clever!” She seems so frustrated, and it’s the exact same tone with which she always yells at Rachel during their arguments, and so Rachel channels that indignation too.
“I hope you’re happy!” she echoes. “I hope you’re happy too! I hope you’re proud how you would grovel in submission to feed your own ambition!
They meet each other’s eyes, and, God, there’s so much swirling emotion there. They sing-song in harmony, “So though I can’t imagine how… I hope you’re happy right now…” Rachel smiles sadly, and she almost thinks she sees a flicker of contrition pass across Quinn’s features.
“Elphie, listen to me,” Quinn pleads. “Just say you’re sorry!”
As if resolving arguments is ever that easy, Rachel thinks ruefully.
Quinn starts singing.
You can still be with The Wizard,
What you've worked and waited for,
You can have all you ever wanted…
Rachel isn’t even sure what that is anymore. “I know,” she admits. “But I don’t want it… No! I can’t want it anymore…”
She takes a step towards the front of the stage, feeling the heat of the spotlight flooding down on her.
Something has changed within me,
Something is not the same,
I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.
Too late for second-guessing,
Too late to go back to sleep,
It's time to trust my instincts,
Close my eyes and leap.
Something has changed. Something big. So life-alteringly, incomprehensibly large she doesn’t even know how to begin processing it.
She takes a breath. Closes her eyes. And leaps.
Life – and Wicked rehearsals – went on. Quinn settled in with Rachel and her fathers. They ate breakfast together every morning that Quinn didn’t have Cheerios, after Quinn jogged and Rachel spent an hour working out in her room. On those non-cheerleading days, Quinn drove them to school again. It was almost like they were real friends.
Things at school were… weird. It wasn’t like Quinn openly acknowledged their détente in the corridors and classrooms of McKinley, but she wasn’t actively hostile anymore.
Santana was another question. And after she led a slushy-ing against Rachel for the third time just since she joined glee, Rachel caught Quinn in the choir-room before practice for a little chat.
“Quinn.”
Quinn turned to her. She looked wary at first, but her eyes widened when she saw the slushy stains on Rachel’s blouse, the plastering of her sink-washed hair to her scalp. “Rachel. What happened?”
“Your best friend happened.”
Quinn frowned. “Santana?”
“Yes.”
Quinn looked away uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Rachel asked, trying to contain her anger. Deep down, she knew Quinn wasn’t responsible, and yet… “What’s the point of being captain if you can’t control a rogue lieutenant?”
Quinn stepped back, just once, surprised. “Rachel,” she said, “this isn’t an army. I don’t think there’s anyone who can control Santana. Not me, not Coach. Maybe not even Brittany.”
“Do you know that? Have you even tried?”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “You think I like this, Rachel? You think I like having her undermine me at every turn?” She looked down. “God, if she knew…”
“Knew what?” Rachel asked, her natural curiosity overriding her anger for just a moment.
Quinn snapped back to her. “It’s none of your business, Rachel. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” She sighed. “It’s not that I’m not grateful. I just… I still value my privacy.” She snorted self-deprecatingly. “Can we get back to Santana?”
Rachel was a little shocked, though not entirely surprised, that Quinn would rather carry on being berated for allowing her friend to be a bully than address her personal problems. She smiled, most of her anger fading. “It’s not about a quid pro quo, Quinn. I’m not going to kick you out. I’d just appreciate a little reciprocal effort.”
“I don’t know if I can, Rachel,” was all Quinn said in response.
“Well, like I said: have you even tried?”
“I can’t,” Quinn insisted. “The rules have changed, Rachel. I’ve lost just about everything. I know you think your glee club friends like gossip, and maybe you’re right, but nobody does slander like she does. If she figures out what’s going on with me, if I give her any reason to doubt me for even a second… I could lose everything else.”
Rachel sort of understood, then, for the first time, why Quinn had been so, so secretive. Why she didn’t trust anyone.
“You can trust me, Quinn.”
Quinn smiled sadly. “I want to, Rachel. I just don’t know if I can.” Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but Quinn raised her hand. “I know. It’s not your fault. You’ve been nothing but generous to me these last few weeks, and I’ll always appreciate it. But I can’t keep taking advantage of someone when I can’t give them anything in return.” She paused. “I’ll move out tomorrow.”
Rachel’s jaw almost dropped. “Quinn, I’m frustrated, I’m not kicking you out.”
“Always about you, huh?” Quinn teased, her voice light and melancholy. “I know you’re not,” she continued, sobering. “I just can’t feel like I’m leaching anymore.”
“You’re not,” Rachel insisted.
Quinn shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I still feel like I am.”
Something dawned on Rachel then. “I won’t push you to explain anymore.”
“It’s not that,” Quinn said on a chuckle. “I’m more than capable of rebuffing your unstoppable curiosity. I’m finally being honest with you about something, Rachel. Just take it and be happy.”
The door opened and Kurt and Mercedes walked in. Tina followed them, pushing Artie ahead of her.
“Quinn,” Rachel tried, one last time.
Quinn met her gaze. “Leave it,” she hissed. “Not here.”
Rachel nodded reluctantly, moving to her seat on the front row as Mister Schue entered the room.
Rachel is standing in the wings, watching Quinn about to sing her reprise of I’m Not That Girl.
Her voice is soft and sad, her eyes large, her face plaintive and open.
Don't wish, don't start,
Wishing only wounds the heart.
There's a girl I know,
I love her so.
It takes Rachel a second to clock the slight change in lyrics, and by the time she does, Quinn is glancing over at her, wearing a tremulous, apologetic smile, and Rachel’s heart flips in her chest.
“I’m not that girl,” Rachel whispers to herself as Quinn sings the line into her mic.
Quinn, predictably, kept to her word. She ate dinner with Rachel and her dads that evening, contributing politely to the conversation as usual. After the four of them had finished their meals, Quinn informed the Misters Berry of her decision, in a tone that made it quite clear that she wouldn’t respond to any attempt to change her mind. When Rachel’s daddy asked her imploringly where she was planning on going, she mentioned a friend noncommittally, and kept Rachel quiet with a pointed glare.
The next day was a Saturday, and Quinn came to tell Rachel that she was leaving at around ten o’clock. Their show was due to open the following Thursday, and Rachel was sitting on her bed, going over her lines.
A soft knock on her bedroom door alerted Rachel to Quinn’s presence. “Come in,” she said, just loud enough that she knew Quinn would here.
Quinn slipped into the room. She had her boots on, and her winter coat. Her Cheerios duffel was resting over one shoulder. “Thank you, Rachel,” she murmured.
Rachel ran her tongue over lips, tamping down on the urge to protest. She nodded. “You’re welcome, Quinn.” She hesitated. “Will I see you in school on Monday?”
Quinn shrugged. “Of course you will.” She offered a tight smile. “We have a show to put on, after all.”
Rachel couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”
“I always cared about it,” Quinn said. “I wouldn’t have auditioned if I didn’t.”
Rachel blinked.
“See you on Monday,” was all Quinn said before turning to leave. A second passed. Two. And then—
“Quinn,” Rachel called out, jumping to her feet, following after her friend.
Quinn was so graceful, so damn quick, that Rachel didn’t catch up with her until they were out of the front door and striding across the driveway.
The second Rachel placed her hand on Quinn’s shoulder, the other girl span around. There were the beginnings of tears prickling in her eyes. “Leave it, Rachel. You don’t want any part of this, trust me.”
“Quinn,” Rachel begged. “Let me help you, please. Just—”
Quinn grabbed Rachel’s other shoulder and pushed. Rachel stumbled backwards a couple of steps, the connection between them breaking. “Why don’t you give up?” Quinn asked her.
Rachel could feel tears building up in her own eyes. She didn’t even know why she cared so much. “Please, Quinn, just tell me what’s going on.”
“We’re not friends, Rachel,” Quinn shouted. Her face betrayed the fact that she didn’t believe it, but Rachel still felt it like a punch in the gut. “I can’t trust you.”
“You have to trust someone,” Rachel insisted, but she knew she’d lost the argument.
“But only when I want to,” Quinn responded, her voice firm. “And if you can’t respect my boundaries, then it can’t be you.” She turned and carried on towards the street. “See you on Monday, Berry.”
And, somehow, that Berry hurt most of all.
Secretly, For Good has always been Rachel’s favourite Wicked song. She just loves its overtures to the power of friendship to change a person’s life, and now… it might mean even more to her. She’s been turning Quinn’s lyrical adjustment over in her mind, and this connection between them… it feels like it’s thawing into something new and different and maybe even kind of wonderful.
They’re sitting in their chairs, hands lightly held between them. “I’m limited,” Rachel begins. She looks down bashfully at her own lap. “Just look at me.” She looks back up, meeting Quinn’s eyes and wondering if she, too, is feeling the boundaries breaking down. “I’m limited. And just look at you, you can do all I couldn’t do, Glinda… So now it’s up to you.” She tries to make clear with her eyes just how much she means those words, though she isn’t quite sure how well she pulls it off. She is, as usual, resisting the profound urge to get swept up in the romanticism of it all.
Quinn smiles, biting her lip, before turning to the audience to sing her verse of the song.
I've heard it said,
That people come into our lives for a reason,
Bringing something we must learn.
And we are led to those,
Who help us most to grow if we let them.
And we help them in return.
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true,
But I know I'm who I am today,
Because I knew you.
Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun,
Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood.
Who can say if I've been changed for the better,
But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good.
She just sounds so heartfelt, so heartbroken, so sincere. Rachel feels herself tearing up, and she tries to wipe her eyes as discreetly as she prepares to sing her verse. She isn’t even sure where the two of them end and their characters begin, anymore, and whether or not that’s a good thing.
Rachel is supposed to sing her verse to the audience, too, but she decides to make a last-minute change, hoping nobody will mind too much when this goes where she’s hoping it will. Very, very occasionally, something is more important than the show going on.
It well may be,
That we will never meet again in this lifetime.
So, let me say before we part:
So much of me,
Is made of what I learned from you.
You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart.
And now whatever way our stories end,
I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend.
Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea.
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird in a distant wood.
Who can say if I've been changed for the better,
But because I knew you...
Quinn’s facing her, and her eyes are also now brimming with tears. “Because I knew you,” she whispers.
“I have been changed for good,” they harmonise. They stand, facing each other, their hands still loosely linked.
Rachel continues singing.
And just to clear the air,
I ask forgiveness,
For the things I've done,
You blame me for.
She knows she does have some of the blame for the way things went between them, knows she shouldn’t have pushed so hard to get Quinn to open up to her, so she hopes that Quinn knows just how much she means the words she’s singing.
“But then I guess we know there’s blame to share,” Quinn returns, and her face is just… so beautiful, so full of meaning. They have a lot they need to talk about, of course, but right here, in this moment… it’s perfect.
Almost on instinct, they turn back to their adoring public, one pair of hands clasped tightly between them. “And none of it seems to matter anymore.”
“Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun,” Quinn sings.
“Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea,” Rachel sings back, throwing a look in Quinn’s direction.
“Like a stream that meets a boulder,” Quinn continues, returning the look, “halfway through the wood.”
Rachel winks subtly (she thinks) and looks back to the audience to sing her line. “Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood.”
She turns back to face Quinn, hoping the other girl will follow her cue. She does.
They continue singing together. “Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? I do believe I have been changed for the better.”
They’re so close now, and maybe some things do work out, occasionally. Close your eyes and leap, Rachel thinks to herself.
Quinn smiles shyly. “And because I knew you…”
“Because I knew you…” Rachel sings, unable to keep the awe and excitement out of her voice.
They end the song together, feeling each other’s breath on their faces. “Because I knew you… I have been changed for good.”
As the song ends, something snaps into place. Snug and warm, as though it was always supposed to.
Quinn nods her consent, not even glancing out into the audience.
Rachel closes the distance, pressing their lips together softly. The crowd gasps, and then awws. And then cheers, as they break apart. They’re standing in each other’s arms, and Quinn is blushing prettily.
“For good,” Rachel whispers.
The End