Glee.

Nineteen: Prom-asaurus.

Rachel's Voice-Over: "Everything dies. Maybe the saddest death of all is the death of a dream. For 18 years, I've had one Broadway, stardom. It was like wings that kept me hovering above the fray. But I flew too close to the sun, and now they're gone, and I'm just Rachel Barbra Berry of Lima, Ohio... a flightless bird. A penguin. Do I look different? I feel different. In some ways, it's a relief... to be part of the crowd. My dreams are smaller now, maybe even more real... the wedding, winning nationals, but first, prom. I'll never walk the red carpet as a Tony or Golden Globe nominee. That's what you get for having no backup plan. Prom is my night to trip the light fantastic. Next to my wedding, my prom dress will be the most important gown I ever wear. I'm surprisingly okay with it all. That dream was just a favourite old sweater that I kept around even though it didn't fit anymore. I can grieve it and move on. I may have lost NYADA, but I still have Finn. So I'm not going to get everything I thought I ever wanted. Doesn't make me a loser."

A few minutes later, Rachel walked into the school bathroom, seeing Becky...

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked.

"I am practicing my Prom Queen victory wave. I'm going to win."

"You know, there's a lot of stiff competition this year, Becky. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed." Rachel says.

"Would you mind taking your loser talk somewhere else? I don't want to catch your failure."

Later, Brittany sat down in front of Figgins...

"Sexy teen trollop. Many months ago, to much fanfare, you were elected senior class president." He said.

"Oh, yeah."

"Since that day, you have accomplished nothing except one memorandum written in crayon saying, "Drill, baby, drill." He said.

"Yeah, I no longer believe we should be drilling for babies."

"Your do-nothing presidency has me seriously considering abolishing the post altogether. And as you are flunking each of your classes, you need class president on your transcript if you hope to gain admittance into college." He says.

"No, I don't. I've already been accepted at Perdue."

"The university?" He asked.

"No, the chicken factory."

"Miss Pierce, you are making a mockery of this student government, and if you don't make an impact with the rest of your term, your presidency will be this school's last!" He shouted.

"I now realise I wasted an entire year belabouring the nuances of my fluid teen sexuality and getting caught up in Lord Tubbington's Ponzi schemes. Then, for a while, I stopped talking. I don't want that to be my legacy, not being president."

"Well, Madam President, prom is coming up. If you want to rehabilitate your image, perhaps that's where you should start." He tells her.

Later, Brittany was standing in a room with three other students...

"I don't know who any of you guys are." Brittany said.

"Oh, we're the Prom Committee. We've been meeting since September."

"We've sent you 14 memos."

"Did you get my memo about drilling for babies?" Asked Brittany.

"No."

"Good. 'Cause that's not the solution to soaring gas prices." Brittany tells them.

"We're a little behind schedule, but we think we have a great theme for this year's prom." He says.