Glee club were in the choir room, even though they currently had two days till sectionals, no supervisor or setlist. Artie was the one who called them there, and he spoke first, "I bet we get stuck with Mr Sinacori as our sectionals advisor."

"Oh, the creepy maths teacher?" Tina asked as Artie solemnly nodded.

Kurt miserably sighed, coated in disappointment as he spoke, "He's always singing as he walks down the halls."

"I have him. I fall asleep regularly for at least forty— five minutes and I miss literally nothing and still wake up to him singing, offkey, about fuck all." Dorothea shrugged.

Just as that, Rachel barged in, the door swinging intensely on its rotting hinges, "Hey guys!" Rachel exclaimed, "Did any of you think it was weird how Puck rushed to Quinn's aid yesterday during rehearsal?" Rachel inquired as Mercedes shook her head. "Dorothea, you and Quinn seem awfully close these days, why didn't you?"

"Because Puck was already helping Quinn? I'm not her 24/7 carer, she's just my friend?" Dorothea bit back to Rachel, intensely bitterly.

"Be quiet, Rachel." Artie told her, "Thea and Quinn are friends? It's normal to be close. You just don't have friends to experience it. Plus, about Puck, he and Quinn are really close as friends, we all know that."

"Yeah, but it seemed like more than that." Rachel stated, "I've never told you guys this before, but I'm a little psychic... I can't read minds or anything yet, but I do have a sixth sense. Something is definitely going on there."

"Uh, we... We got to go." Mercedes told Rachel, signalling the rest of the club to leave.

"We have to practice." Rachel sternly exclaimed.

"Oh, and we will," Kurt said, already on his way out of the door, "as soon as Mr Schuester names a faculty advisor to replace him."

"and gives us a setlist!" Dorothea said, quickly catching up to Kurt, though the two quickly separated as Dorothea received a call on her phone — from Mercedes.

"Hey. She's onto it." Mercedes worriedly said as Tina connected to the call.

"If she finds out," Dorothea began as she met Tina in a hallway, walking up to her, "I'll wreck her and her family's reputation till they skip town and never come back?"

"Just don't get caught," Mercedes told her, Dorothea hummed in response as she caught up to Tina.

"Hold up." Tina said, her phone vibrating, "Artie's buzzing in."

"Dudes, this is serious!" Artie exclaimed, dramatically, as soon as he joined the call, "If she finds out, she's going to tell Finn. She's a total trout mouth."

"Kurt wants in," Dorothea told the group, as she added Kurt to the call.

"I say we lock Rachel up until after sectionals. I volunteer in my basement." Kurt stated, though the idea was honestly amazing, Dorothea sighed.

"We can't. We need her to sing."

"Damn her talent." Kurt cursed, as he added Santana and Brittany to the call unwarranted.

"We just heard." Santana told them, "Who told?" She asked, her fury evident ever so slightly.

"We assumed it was you." Artie honestly spilt as Santana scoffed.

"Why would I do that?"

"To get back at Puck." Kurt suggested, "Aren't you guys dating?"

"Sex is not dating." Santana confidently exclaimed.

"If it were, Santana and I would be dating." Brittany ditzily replied as everyone on the line went silent, and the only noise, aside from the busy hallway, was Santana's sharp inhale. Dorothea looked over to Tina, shocked.

Santana finally started talking, breaking the awkward silence, "Look, I don't want to rock the boat. Since Quinn got pregnant, I'm the top dog around here."

"Hold up. Rachel's walking by." Mercedes said, as her voice faded slightly as she talked to Rachel. "Hey, hot mama!" She came back like normal, "She's gone. Look, I know I screwed up telling all of you guys about Quinn and Puck, but no one was gonna do it. Thea, you weren't, you're too nice. But I feel terrible about it, but we cannot let Rachel figure this out. If she tells Finn, he's going to flip."

Dorothea frowned at being named as too nice, as she sighed, "And then, we really have no chance at sectionals."

***

Dorothea sat alone at the back of the choir room, watching longingly as Quinn was near the whiteboard berating Puck on something. Even if she was shouting at Puck, she just felt like she wanted to be with Quinn.

Somebody sat beside her, setting her bag on the floor. "You look at Quinn the way I hear people say I look at Finn," Rachel said from beside her.

"What?" Dorothea asked, her attention snapped away from Quinn.

"Do you like Quinn?" Rachel invasively asked as Dorothea frowned, turning away from her.

She scoffed in disagreement, "No." Her words made her stomach churn, as she hugged her, the guilt settling into her stomach. Why should I? Stop making assumptions." She snapped, before getting up quickly and moving to sit in the empty seat beside Artie.

"You alright? Artie asked.

"Rachel." She responded solemnly.

"I get you, girl." Artie shrugged, as Schuester entered through the left door, Miss Pilsbury shuffling behind him.

"Hey, guys?" Schuester said to them, his tone less peppy than usual, "Lets uh... let's gather 'round. Well, I've found my replacement. So give it up for Miss Pilsbury!" Schuester somberly exclaimed.

"She's the one they made me talk to when they found that bird in my locker," Brittany mumbled, Santana, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"So," Santana tensely began, moving her hand away as she folded her arms, "do you even know anything about music?"

"Well... What's important is that she cares about you guys every bit as much as I do." Schuester tried to cheerfully tell them, though it turned just into a pitying tone. "Now... I— I don't know what the future holds for me, and us, but I know, Saturday, you're going to make me proud. You guys are going to be great. So... goodbye for now."

"Wait." Mercedes said, just before Schuester tried to walk out of the choir room, "What about our set list?"

"I... I can't help you with that. You've got to figure that out for yourselves. All right, guys." Schuester said, waving goodbye to them as he left.

"Well, we have to do Proud Mary in wheelchairs. That's in." Artie said.

"And Don't Stop Believing, for sure," Dorothea remarked, Artie humming in response.

Tina frowned, "What about the ballad?"

"I would be thrilled to contribute a ballad from my repertoire." Rachel enthused, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"I could body anything you sing." Dorothea quietly sneered.

Mercedes turned around to Rachel, "Okay, you know what, Miss Bossy Pants? Enough. I've worked just as hard as you, and I'm just as good as you. You know, you always end up stealing the spotlight." Mercedes snapped, Miss Pilsbury just watching it happen, doe eyes and quiet per usual.

"Mercedes, do you honestly think you're as strong of a balladeer as I am?" Rachel asked, soon leaning over to Miss Pilsbury, "Ballads are kind of my thing."

"Okay, um, Rachel? Why don't you let Mercedes give it a try?" Miss Pilsbury unsurely suggested.

"Thanks, Miss P." Mercedes beamed, as Rachel's face fell flat. "Do I even need to tell you what song? Horns, strings, keep up."

Mercedes absolutely devoured And I'm Telling You, I'm Not Going, she had the whole club in awe, proving how powerful she was, bodying any song Rachel could have sung. Proving her song better than the originals. "Thoughts?" Mercedes asked as soon as she finished the song, against the arrays of applause.

"It's clear the room adores you." Rachel motioned to the club who sat in awe, "And, although it wouldn't be my first choice, well, I can't wait to see you sing that song at sectionals. You're amazing, Mercedes, and you deserve it. I'm going to hug you now." Rachel hugged Mercedes tightly.

Before Mercedes could walk out of the choir room once Glee club ended, Rachel chased after Finn who left first, Dorothea quickly made her way over to Mercedes and tapped her on the shoulder, Mercedes turned around. "Run me over, Mercedes." Dorothea teased, though, trying to have her tone sound as serious as she could.

This provoked a laugh from Mercedes, linking their arms as they left the choir room.

***

The very next day, Dorothea stood clutching Quinn's hand, holding onto dear life as they watched Finn beat the absolute shit out of Puck, Quinn was sniffling watching as the boys fought — well, Finn justifiably beat up Puck.

Schuester ran in, Miss Pilsbury behind him. Schuester roughly dragged Finn off of Puck, Puckerman laying there, dazed, shrugging himself up.

"Tell the truth!" Finn yelled, trying to lunge for Puck, though Schuester held him back, seeming panicked.

"Punk just walked in and sucker-punched me." Puck shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Don't play dumb — you're too freaking dumb to play dumb!" Finn yelled, reaching for the air as he tried to get Puck.

"Who told you this, Finn?!" Quinn asked, hysterical through her tears.

"Obviously it was Rachel." Kurt scoffed.

"What? I didn't do anything!" Rachel exclaimed defensively.

"Yeah, it was Rachel, but I want to hear it from you. I want to hear it from all of you." Finn hissed, though calming down slightly, though he was still aggressive.

"Finn, just calm down!" Schue yelled to Finn.

"No! They're lying to me!" Finn snapped, stepping back. "Is it true? Just tell me— is it true?"

"Yes. Puck is the father." Quinn choked out.

"So, all... All that stuff in the hot tub... You just made that up?.."

"You were stupid enough to buy it." Puck mocked him, jeering him on.

"I am so sorry." Quinn sobbed, as she leaned into Dorothea, the other girl petting her head, as Finn began to yell again.

"A— and you too!" Finn said, motioning to Dorothea, "Rachel said you're in love with her or something!"

Dorothea froze up, trying to splutter out words, "Rachels is lying, Finn. She lying, please don't—"

"Screw this!" Finn screamed, "I'm done with you. I'm done with... I'm done with all of you!" He exclaimed, storming over to the choir room's door, before stopping for a second and booting a chair, Finn left, leaving the club finally silent.

***

Quinn was alone in the hallway as Rachel left.

Quinn had glistening cheeks, her tears ricocheting off of her usually rosy cheeks, and her hands lay motionless in her lap, staring ahead of her.

Dorothea tried to stay quiet as she walked up to where Quinn was sitting and she sat beside her, turning towards Quinn. "I'm sorry," Dorothea said, as Quinn refused to make eye contact.

"What should you be sorry for?"

Dorothea looked away from Quinn, towards her right on the grotty bench. "For showing interest in you in the first place. You were with Finn, I should've accepted that... and uhm left you alone. So. I'm sorry."

Quinn leaned back against the wall, "It's both of our faults. You could have stopped yourself, though."

Anger flared up in her, the feeling being built upon the previous sadness beforehand, "Don't be blaming me here, Quinn. You may be pregnant, or you may be going through something but that gives you absolutely no right to blame this all on me." She snapped, standing up.

"I'm not."

"You can't pretend like you just said that I could have stopped myself, you could have too. You could have stopped this, not play into this. Bottled it all up. Stay in your unhappy relationship with Finn, make Puckerman your sidepiece. This isn't all my fault." Dorothea struck her arms by her sides, attempting to make her posture as straight as she could.

"Whatever..." Quinn began, sniffling up, "Can you leave, please? I wanna be left alone."

Before she fully left, she turned her head in Quinn's direction, "I think it's best if we stop whatever we're doing till you sort out whatever is going on in your life."

Dorothea ducked her head down, finally letting the tears bottled up in her eyes finally be let go.

***

Her bed was becoming uncomfortable the more she lay in it. The silk bedsheets under her fingertips, the sun attempting to infiltrate her room, but the curtains and blinds blocked her from the sunlight. The clock on her bedside table obnoxiously ticking beside her silent phone.

4:45 pm.

She had barely been home for half an hour, yet it had felt like forever. Finally, somebody tried to talk to her as her phone rang, Back To December blaring through her phone's speakers.

Her mom's contact was on her phone, she grumbled, swiping it to answer.

"Hi." She muttered as some shuffling was heard.

"Hello, sweetheart. Are you okay? I haven't heard from you in ages."

Dorothea sat up, leaning against the headboard, "I'm okay. Just busy with Glee clubs, sectionals are tomorrow, so..."

"You sound sad, did something happen?" Her mom asked, sounding as if she was pouring something.

"I.. yeah, kinda. Remember how I told you about that person I liked? Well. I ended this. Kinda." Dorothea shrugged, trying to play it off as casually as she could.

"I'm glad you knew your worth, love. To be honest—" Her mother cut herself off, as the door opened on the other end. "What time do you call this?" Her mom asked the person who just entered.

"Ten to ten, can you read the clock?" A male voice — her fucking brother, of all people, said to her mom.

"Dorothea, sweetheart, I have to go. Good luck on those sectioned things."

The line went dead. Dorothea just let the phone drop onto her bed, though it bounced & slid off. Dorothea peeked under her bed to retrieve it.

It was beside an old sweater, the girl pulled the sweater which had a heavy object inside of it out & her phone.

The April Rhodes wine.

Fuck it. She thought, twisting the cap, and taking a drink of the humid alcohol directly from the bottle.

The taste was bitter, smelling of what her mother would usually reek over — occasionally mixed with cigarettes, when she kissed her goodnight on the forehead in her youth.

It was filling her with a sense of nostalgia despite the quite heavy and sour taste.

Maybe this could be a change for her. To let loose for once in her miserable life.

***

Her head was pounding, the talking on the bus and the riveting engine just contributing to it.

Dorothea's phoned pinged. Her dad's contact was visible, those eight words just making her want to burst into a flood of tears right there and then.

Can't go. Will make it up to you x

***

Miss Pilsbury stood in front of the club in the waiting area, as Dorothea leaned her head on Tina's shoulder, trying to defeat her sombre feelings and her pounding headache, and the feeling of nausea building up. "Okay. So, smooth sailing so far, we're all signed in and, um, according to the program, you have drawn performance slot number three."

"We're going last? Isn't that bad?" Tina asked, her tone curious.

"Hardly. This is good news. My extensive auditioning for community theatre has taught me that we either want to go first or last. If we're first, then everyone has to measure up to us, and if we're last, then we're freshest in the judges' minds." Rachel showed off, as most of the club lost interest halfway through her tangent.

"And did you ever get any of those parts?" Dorothea scoffed, hearing a chuckle from Tina beside her.

"Maybe if you got any of them parts you'd be less focused on getting opportunities from the rest of us." Kurt bit back at Rachel.

Miss Pilsbury, despite the disagreement from members of the club, stayed with Rachel's side, "I'm with Rachel on this. The glass is definitely half full of some very good things right now."

Mercedes shrugged, "Yeah, Miss Pillsbury's right. I mean, we're here now, right? No reason not to go in with some positive mojo."

***

They were watched the Jane Adams Academy girls numbers, all sat in a row, their costumes on, waiting for their turn to perform.

They did their numbers exactly how they planned to. A girl belting And Im Telling You Im Not Going, though Mercedes was better, and Proud Mary in wheelchairs.

Dorothea bit her lip so hard she swore she could feel blood forming.

***

Dorothea sat by Tina's side, tucked up into the corner of the chair in the waiting room. "Im going to fucking kill myself if they do another one of our numbers," She whispered to Tina who hugged her gently. "Why are they doing this?" She whispered to the girl once more.

"Because theyre unoriginal and cant form their own numbers." Tina sighed, finally letting go of her.

***

Haverbrook were unoriginal fuckers aswell and did their third number.

During their performance of Dont Stop Believeing, Rachel stood up and directed the club to go to the green room. "Meet me in the green room in five minutes!" She yelled at them.

***

Kurt turned to Santana and Brittany, "You leaked the set list." He snapped, "You dont want to be here. You were just Sue Sylvester's little moles,"

"I know for a fact that's true, Sue asked us to spy for her." Quinn shrugged, after just exposing her friends. Dorothea glared at Quinn, shooting her daggers.

Santana looked Quinn up & down, judging her, "Look, we may still be Cheerios, but neither of us ever gave Sue the setlist."

"Well... I— I did, but I didn't know what she was going to do with it." Brittany muttered.

"Okay, look, believe what you want, but no one's forcing me to be here. And if you ever tell anyone this I'll deny it, but I like being in the Glee club. It's the best part of my day, okay? I wasn't going to go and mess it up." Santana admitted, leaning into Brittany's side.

"I believe you. Okay, look, guys, there's no point in us arguing anymore. We— we have to go on in a half an hour." Rachel said, standing infront of the club.

"And we have no songs." Tina said.

"Perhaps I could improvise some of my def poetry jams." Artie suggested.

"I have a song I could do." Dorothea muttered quietly, not thinking anyone could hear her that well.

"That one you were working on at the sleepover like a month ago?" Tina asked from beside her.

"The Other Woman is a masterpiece." Dorothea said in a hushed tone back to Tina.

"It is." Tina agreed, taking her hand and squeezing it. Dorothea looked away from Tina, and caught Quinn's eye, who looked away from her hurriedly.

"No. Look, we're going to do this the right way. Let's start with the ballad. Mercedes, do you have anything else in your repertoire?" Rachel commanded, as Mercedes looked down towards the floor.

"Yeah, but it's not as good as anything you're going to sing."

"No, we, we agreed..." Rachel disclosed.

"We agreed that I would sing And I'm Telling You, and that ain't happening. Look, Rachel, the truth is you're the best singer that we've got." Mercedes fought back to her.

"As much as it hurts me to admit it, and it does, she's right. Rachel's our star. If anyone is going to go belt it on the fly, it should be her." Kurt admitted, looking down towards his nails.