Take it or Leave it (A Glee Quinn Fabray Story)

Cheerleaders and Cancerous Cells

For the next hour and a half, I sit on a stool in the Hudson's kitchen, helping Carole dry dishes. "So, Quinn. When do you think my son will be back exactly?" Carole speaks, trying to keep up the awkward small talk. "I'm really sorry, but I don't know." I replied uneasily, desperately wanting to go home and cry into my mother's shoulder. "Honey , maybe you should head home. You need lots of rest when you're pregnant." Carole hands me the last plate. I wince at the word, as I have since it became a truth, and give the porcelain dish a few swipes of the damp towel clenched in my fist. "Alright. Thanks for everything, and could you ask Finn to give me a call when he gets home?" I give her a quick hug and she nods. "Of course dear." She murmurs, and pats me on the back. "Now, you make sure you come and visit me, before Baby Girl comes." Carole points at my stomach and I cross my arms over it, blushing profusely. I stutter a goodbye, and hurry home, knowing my mother will be waiting up.
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After waiting up all night for a call that never came, I struggle to squeeze into my Cheerio's uniform, frustrated tears burning in my eyes with each passing minute. I give up when a stitch snaps, and throw the polyester suit into the corner of my room. I decide on another outfit, a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt with a cardigan, and stomp down the stairs, ready to smash something into a billion pieces. "Good morning, sweetie." My mother's sing song voice calls, and it adds to my anger. She has recently made a habit of waiting to go to work until after I've left, and her being here in the mornings really messes with my head. "Mom, I'm going to school." I shout back, an obvious edge added to my tone. She hurries out to bid me farewell, giving me a quick peck on the cheek and a brisk hug. "Have a great day, Quinnie! I have something I want to talk to you about after school, so come straight home, okay?" She sends me off with a friendly wave, as I trudge to my car, exhaustion beginning to catch up to me. I climb into my car, banging on the dash a few times to vent my anger. I dial Santana's number as I pull out of the driveway, my mother finally turning inside to get ready for work. "Santana, I'm officially way too fat." I mutter into the phone when she picks up. "Well, what a cheery way to say hello!" She replies sarcastically, and I click my tongue. "No, San. I'm officially too fat. My Cheerio's uniform doesn't fit." I grit my teeth, and roll up in front of her house. My phone clicks off as she jogs toward my car, smile on her face. "Well," Santana greets me as she buckles her seatbelt across her body and looks at my outfit. "You'll just have to ask for a new uniform then." She shrugs, sticking her feet up onto the dash. "Yeah, feet down. No shoe prints up there." I wave her feet away, pulling to a stop at the traffic light. She shakes her head, muttering something about me being a control freak, and some words I shouldn't repeat. "Will you come with me to tell her? I don't want to face her wrath alone." I smile meekly. Santana scowls, but agrees nonetheless. When we pull into the school parking lot, I try to hunt for Finn's car without raising suspicion. "He didn't call, did he?" Santana wore a mask of teasing, but the layer was thin and the sympathy shone through. I shake my head no, and pull into a spot near the doors.
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We hurry to Coach Sue's office, trying to get there with enough time before the first bell. "Hello, ladies." She greets, never once raising her eyes off her journal. "Umm, Coach Sue..." I glance nervously at Santana who stands beside me. "I need a bigger uniform." I whisper. Her head shoots up, eyes boring holes in my skull. "Why?" She goes off on a long list of accusations, from Acrocephalosyndactylia to Uveomeningoencephalitic Syndrome. I, not knowing what any of them are, shake my head. Her eyes turn venomous, landing on the last possibility. "Are you pregnant?" Coach Sue spits, eyes narrowing and mouth drawn into a straight line. "I didn't mean to!" My eyes immediately well up, and I plead forgiveness, even resorting to kneeling. "Please let me stay on Cheerios. I'll do anything!" I sob, unable to look my coach in the eye. "Q, I always knew you would disappoint me. I've always seen myself in you, but this is veering off the path. You're off the team, but I want to see you at practice after school. You're going to explain to your fellow Cheerios why you betrayed them." She stares coldly down at me, her tone dripping with disgust. I nod tearfully, accepting my punishment. "And I want your uniform back by tomorrow morning, no excuses." She dismissed me, leaving my tears and I to the hallway and a best friend.
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Coach Sue blew her whistle, calling all the cheerleaders into a tight circle. "Crew, you all know that I haven't noticed much recently, like how horrible you've all become at cartwheels, like seriously! Horrible! But anyway, I've been training for my session on Survivor, so I've let a lot slip. And it turns out that one of your own has taken advantage of that." The Coach steps aside, gesturing for me to take my usual place in front of my teammates. "Girls, guys, I've been kicked off of Cheerio's." I manage to keep my voice steady, though it's edged with sadness. A ripple of shock spreads through the crowd, and I nod. "I'm pregnant, as you've probably already figured out." A few people nod, but for the most part there's a lot of confusion. "So anyway, Coach Sue is asking me to pick my replacement. I've chosen two of you, co-captains so to speak. Santana, obviously, and her co-captain Addison!" My eyes gleam with unshed tears, and the task of naming the person or people that get to take my job. My best friend stands a little taller beside me, instantly embracing her new position. The small, quiet blonde at the back of the squad lights up as I speak her name, becoming radiant as the team throws her congratulatory smiles. Coach Sue nods to me, letting me go, and I rush out of the gym. I race to my car and jump in, driving a little bit over the speed limit all the way home.
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As soon as I pull in the driveway, my mother rushes out, cell phone clutched in hand. Her face is pale, and her cheeks are wet. "Mom..." I drift off, scared. Her hands shake as she pulls me close. "We need to go to the hospital." My mother's whole body trembles as she holds onto me like a lifeline. I lead her to the car, buckling her into the passenger side, and put myself in the driver's seat. "Mom, I need you to tell me what happened." I speak calmly, resting my hand on her knee. "Y-Y-Your f-father." She stuttered, turning to face me. "The hospital called and your father was in a car crash." She choked out, hiccuping once she was done. My mouth rounds in horror, and I push on the gas pedal a little more. "They said he had an aortic rupture." My mother's eyes continually pump out fresh tears, and she looks as though her life's been torn to shreds. "Frannie's coming too." She whispers, barely able to string the words together. I grip her hand, squeezing until my own turns white. "He'll be okay, Mom. Dad's gonna be okay." I murmur. As we get to the hospital, I can see my sister pacing inside. I park, and lead my mom inside. As soon as Frannie spots us, she rushes over and embraces my mom. "Oh Frannie." My mother sobs, still pale as a sheet. "Mom, I just spoke with his doctor. We're allowed to go in and see him now." My sister grabs my mother's other hand, and we practically carry her to my father's room. As soon as she spots my dad's broken body lying in bed, she gasps, struggling to catch her breath. He's asleep, left leg and left arm enclosed in plaster. "Russell..." Her voice is weak as she places a hand on his forehead. The room is silent for a few minutes, just the beeping of the monitor beside the bed, until a team of doctors walks in. "Stanley, you present." The oldest doctor speaks softly, nodding at a young lady near the front of the pack. She steps forward and clears her throat, causing my mom to look up. "Russell Fabray, 56. Admitted for fractured femur and wrist. We did some scans, CT, MRI, and we discovered an thoracic aortic aneurysm. It had ruptured, causing the crash, but we got him in right away, so it was treatable. When we were in there, though, we found cancerous cells leading to the diagnosis of stage IV pancreatic cancer. He should be waking up at any time." Dr. Stanley announces, and when she finished, my mom clutched my father's hand fiercely. Frannie and I move at the exact same time, both of us reaching to put our hands on our stomachs. My sister looks over at me confused, and her eyes flicker as she places her gaze on my belly for the first time. "You too?" She whispers in horror, then grabs my wrist and drags me into the hall. "Lucille Quinn Fabray! When did that happen!" She gestures to me, and I blush. "Around the same time as yours, I guess. We're due the same month." I speak confidently, not breaking my gaze from hers. "You're president of the celibacy club! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! What happened?!" My sister yelps, sitting me down in front of her so she can yell at me. "Drunken sex." I reply nonchalantly, hoping to throw her off her path of reprimands. Frannie's chin falls, and she punches my arm. "Lucille Quinn Fabray!" She repeats. "What did Dad say about this?" She adds, now scavenging for juicy gossip. "He doesn't know. He's been away so much that he hasn't had a good look at me for, like, three months." I shrug, trying to brush it off. "And when were you planning on telling him? That's kinda a big deal!" She continues to scold me for the better part of ten minutes. "Are you done? Because I'd like to go see Dad." I struggle to rise from my chair, and Frannie helps me up. We stroll to his room together, and when we enter, a nurse smiles at us. "How far along are you, miss?" She asks politely, pointing to my sister's stomach. "26 weeks." Frannie responds happily, placing her hands there again. "And you?" The friendly nurse turns to me. "28 weeks." I spoke softer than my sister, a tad embarrassed. "Well, congratulations, both of you." She hurries off to do her nurse-ly things, leaving Frannie and I together by the doorway. "Quinn." My dad booms, causing me to freeze. "Dad, you're awake!" I lean in to kiss his cheek, but he scowls. "Quinn, that nurse just asked you 'how many weeks are you'." He speaks firmly, and I reach for his hand. "Quinn, are you pregnant?" He growls, reaching to tighten his grip on my mother's hand. I nod defeatedly, not wanting to complicate things by lying. "Dad, can we talk about this when you're not in the hospital? It's not like she's going anywhere. I'm just really tired, of answering questions, and being judged, and everything that comes along with this. I didn't mean to, and I sure as hell am not ready for this." I blurt, the words just streaming out of my mouth. "Quinn," My dad mutters, shaking his head. "I think you should leave. Go home and when I get back, we will talk about this." His words have a sense of finality, causing me to sigh, and turn away. "Of course, Daddy. You concentrate on getting better, I'll be at home." I murmur, leaning in to kiss his cheek, which he accepts stiffly. "Goodbye, Dad."