AN: Long time no update, huh? Well, I've been writing a few chapters here and there and I mostly didn't feel like updating until I got a clear idea of what I really wanted to do with this story. I'll be updating a few more chapters as a little holiday present. Meanwhile, enjoy. Hope everyone's been indulging in a little holiday cheer.

It's a shame you don't know

What you're running from

Would your bones have to break

And your lights turn off?

(Your Biggest Mistake; Ellie Goulding)

Chapter Four

There are rumors flying around the halls of William McKinley about every single member of New Directions. The first day Quinn attended class as a junior a year ago, she's already heard practically four different versions of stories about Rachel Berry's beauty regimen. Or Kurt Hummel's uniquely hand tailored pairs of pants. Or even the razors that her roommate supposedly hides under her hundred-thousand-dollar-maintained hair.

Of course the most popular rumors are the easiest to go about. Those that are not quite as easily denied because the people being talked about don't deem them important enough to be given any kind of attention to. These rumors mostly talk about how wealthy each member is, their fashion sense, the places they've traveled to, the supposed universities or colleges or conservatories they'd be attending after high school.

Then there are the more scandalous stories. The ones about their sordid love affairs within the choir, and their affairs with so-called "outsiders" from the somewhat incestuous circle. There are varying stories describing the club's on-and-off relationships (Rachel and Finn, Mercedes and Sam), the friends with benefits agreements (Puck with any girl willing to open her legs, really), the love triangles (Artie and Tina and Mike until Artie moved on to Brittany, pretty much encroaching upon Santana's 'territory'), or even the more stable and boring couples (Tina and Mike, when Artie finally left them alone). There's the story about how Kurt used to have the hugest crush on Finn when they were both freshmen until a year later, a boy by the name of Blaine Anderson enrolled and practically stole his heart, along with the respect of the other members of New Directions as its newest tenor. And how about those stories going around about Rachel's love affair with the recently graduated Jesse St. James, and Finn's chair-kicking fits of jealousy? Quinn has heard at least a dozen versions of those the first three months of being in William McKinley alone.

She's pretty much aware of the rumors that have spread about how she rejected the special invitation Rachel handed out to her at the start of junior year. A high school for the arts that regales its award-winning show choir with accolades every moment it possibly can also takes enough precaution with regards to its enemies to make sure they know them, and halfway through her first year as a transferee, just about every student in the school knew she wasn't just a previous member of Vocal Adrenaline, but was a good contender to being its next female lead. And with that information came the questions – why did she stop singing? Why did she refuse to join New Directions? Why did she transfer?

She's never been one for entertaining rumors, and she's never particularly found herself to be the subject of persisting ones. Just as well as she expected, people eventually found more interesting things to talk about when Quinn stayed on the background, a lowly boring photography student who just happens to have the scariest member of New Directions as a roommate.

It's with this same attitude that she walks the halls of McKinley as the newest addition to its revered show choir. She's hot topic because she happens to be the newest source of gossip, but she expects that the rumor-mongering will eventually dwindle down once people realize she isn't really that interesting.

That is if people don't become privy to the things she's been determined to hide for a year now.

"Hey, hot stuff."

It's fifteen minutes before the start of the first class for the day, and already there's a smirking mohawked boy lounging in front of her locker. What could the day possibly have in store for her?

Quinn schools her features into a passive blank face. Puck can be amusing, sure, but she's never quite taken a liking to his cocky girls-fall-all-over-me attitude.

"You're blocking my locker, Puck."

"Hey, hey, woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning?"

"I woke up just fine, thanks. Now would you please let me get my things from my locker so we can both go to class?" she says, raising a lone eyebrow.

Puck's smirk turns into a shit-eating grin as he steps to the side and she proceeds to turn the combination to her locker. "Or maybe, you woke up on the wrong bed this morning, huh?"

Her hand stops for a fraction of a second and upon realizing that she turned the lock a number more than needed, she starts over. She looks sideways before focusing on the lock, hoping the boy didn't notice.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, really. Just been hearing some juicy stuff about you lately, that's all."

She finally opens the lock and yanks the locker door open. She starts grabbing notebooks and her portfolio when Puck leans a little closer, with a conspiratorial whisper, "Heard you could give me a run for my money with the ladies, Fabgay."

Her head snaps to the side, eyes narrowed and a serious glare directed straight at the boy, "What did you just call me, Puckerman?"

The boy steps back, both hands up, "Whoa! No need to go all death ray eyes at me! I'm just saying…the things I've been hearing about you lately? I approve."

Quinn has never been one for rumors, and she wholeheartedly believes she's really not that interesting enough to be the topic of gossip. But as much as she may want to choose to ignore the stories people have been spreading about her, she'd never actively choose to be ignorant, especially when she's being bombarded by the information first thing in the morning.

She's learned her lesson the hard way.

"And pray tell, what exactly have you been hearing about me, then?"

Puck runs a hand through his Mohawk once, grin firmly in place, still leaning against the locker beside hers. "I know why you've been rejecting this," flexing one of his biceps, "right here, QFab. You're all about the lady-lovin'. No harm, no foul. I get that."

"You've been hearing that," a pause, and then a small bite on her lower lip, "I'm all about the lady loving?"

"Uh huh," Puck nods. "Like I said, I approve. Hundred and ten percent."

"You mean, people have been talking about me being," she licks her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, "gay?"

Puck's grin grows even wider if that's possible. "You have quite the reputation with the ladies, if you wanna know."

"I have a – what kind of reputation, exactly?"

"Only the best kind," Puck says, teasingly waggling his eyebrows. He proceeds to pat her on the shoulder. "What can I say? The Puckzilla's actually a little threatened. But don't tell anyone I said that or I'll deny it."

"I'm – I – I, uh, actually don't know what to say."

"Just tell me how many booty you've tapped last year."

"I'm not giving you the answer to that."

Puck pouts. Actually pouts. "Why not?"

Quinn looks at him for a second, before turning back to close her locker. "Why should I"

"Well, we're bros now, Fabray. Whatever you're doing; I support it. Ask Santana. I'm all about girls going down and dirty with each other!"

"We are not –" She places the now-filled bag firmly on her shoulder, as she turns to Puck in amusement. "Puck, I'm not your bro. And I really doubt Santana's also your bro."

"Of course, she's not. Santana's a bitch. But you? Well," he holds out a fist to be bumped in a universal symbol of bro-hood, "we can be bros, right? You're not as much of a bitch, and you're just as hot. Not to mention, you get under Berry's skin like no one else's business."

She looks at the held out fist, and then at Puck's grinning face, and walks away with a smile, shaking her head. "Goodbye, Puck. See you in glee."

Instead of leaving her to walk to his own class, he opts to walk beside her, conversation apparently not yet over. "Last time someone got Berry as challenged was with Jesse St. Douchebag. And you know what happened there? She lost her virginity to him. Just sayin'."

"Rachel is as straight as a ruler," a scoff.

Puck takes an extra step forward, effectively blocking Quinn's path. "Yeah. Shame." And with a wink, he walks the opposite direction with a hollered, "Bye, Fabgay!" as the school bell rings indicating the start of class.

"Heard they're giving you the female lead when Giselle graduates next year," Andrea Cohen had said after a grueling Vocal Adrenaline practice, three weeks before they would take the stage for Nationals. Andrea had been one of the most talented members of their show choir and Quinn had always thought that the other girl was the shoe in for female lead once Giselle finally leaves for conservatory and the spot is left empty. Andrea's words had been news to Quinn.

"I'm not sure that's true, Andrea," she had replied at the time, having heard of the rumor for the first time.

"Oh, it is. I heard Gis and Golsby talking yesterday. You pretty much have the spot, Quinn."

For a moment, Quinn had felt that surge of happiness in her heart. It was unexpected, sure, but she was confident in her abilities enough to know that if what Andrea had said were true, then she was nothing but deserving of the recognition.

That was until the other girl had leaned closer and whispered, "I was going to congratulate you, but of course we both know why you're really getting the position, right?"

At the time, she hadn't known what the proper reply was, or what was hidden behind the malicious smile that graced the other girl's face.

Andrea Cohen had taken a few steps away, until she turned around abruptly with a, "Tell me, Quinn. Just how much money exactly does your family give the local Baptist church every year?"

"What – what are you talking about?"

"I mean, I know your family's pretty wealthy, but I'm sure your father spends a fortune maintaining that pristine Fabray name." There had been a smile pasted on Andrea's face, but her eyes had nothing resembling a smile to them. "I can only imagine how your father's reaction might be when he finds out his precious little Quinn is a dyke."

Quinn had frozen as that word tumbled out of Andrea's lips, and completely turned her world around for the second time in less than a year. Fear had started filling her insides as she felt the beginning of a panic attack. "I'm not – I don't – You – You can't prove that."

"Is that a challenge, Fabray? I like challenges."

"N-no. I'm just – Y-you can't prove that I'm…that I'm –"

"Fucking a girl behind your devout parents' backs?" Quinn had watched as Andrea Cohen walked careful, deliberate steps closer, until their faces were right in front of each other. "Watch me."

"What do you want from me?" She hated that her voice was trembling but she was on the verge of crying, and she was starting to tremble.

"You think I'll just let it go while you steal my solos and my spot from me because…what? You're fucking our star?"

"That's n-not t-true!"

"What's not true?" Andrea had replied with the most menacing sneer Quinn had ever seen on anyone's face. "That you keep stealing what's mine? Or that you're fucking –"

"Andrea!" a voice resonated down the halls, and as Andrea had looked back to see who had called her, Quinn could do nothing but stand there, still frozen, heart palpitating like it was about to explode any second.

"Andrea! What are you doing there? Come on, let's go!"

"Coming!" And just before walking down to her friends, Andrea had turned one last time to a quivering Quinn Fabray. "See you, Quinn. And regards to your proud father."

That had been the start of one of the longest nights in Quinn's life.