okay, so if anyone is reading Trouble on Tour I have had some chapters written for a while (like, December. I'm so sorry) and want to know if people actually want to read more of that or not. And this was also a request, so I hope you like it. I also wanted to try some different styles. also, note: the texting will have the name of who it's sent to before it, but messaging will have 'From x'. if it's confusing I'll change it.

Audition

Jacob ben-Israel is possibly the most annoying human being on the planet.

"Please, as if that's actually a human"

"Don't be mean, Santana. Jews are people, too"

"What are you guys talking about?" I love Santana and Brittany, I really do, but sometimes I wonder if half of their conversations are transmitted psychically.

"Erm, you're the one who said he was annoying, Q. And, Brit, Jews aren't people. We've been through this."

"I know. No-one like Rachel could actually have been born"

"I don't know why, but I take offence at that"

"Seriously, Q? I thought after that kid came out it'd pull the stick up your ass with it."

I figured I'd spoken my thoughts out loud - hard not to when that lame excuse for a sophomore was running around with a microphone nearly as big as his hair - but I really didn't think that any conversation where I mentioned that someone was annoying would end up here. Here being talking about my daughter. That's still hard to process. Not the thought that I have a daughter, not really (though sometimes the idea just hits me when I'm doing the most mundane things, and hard enough to knock all the wind out of me), but that I was pregnant. Of course, I've only really had a daughter for four months and I was pregnant for nine (six and a half where I knew) but the concept of having a child, even at sixteen (seventeen next month), is a lot more natural than, well, being a mother. Looking in the mirror and seeing not two but three protrusions that just aren't right on me was sickening. I guess I'm lucky that I performed that scornful glare of despair with such scrutiny, or I might not have noticed the bump and I might have killed the child I didn't know I had.

"Quinnie, Jew cloud is coming over!" I can't tell if she's scared or excited. I love Brittany - not like Santana, and the pair of us should probably talk soon, but enough to care for her like Santana does. I've made it implicit, but explicitly clear, that the first rule of McKinley is not to upset Brittany. Make her feel smart and do it without patronising her is basically the modus operandi, and maybe never say no. So I roll my eyes and, because Brittany's hugging my arm but still managing to hold one of Santana's hands with both of hers, I actually don't string the boy up with my words.

"What do you want?" I ask. It's biting, but it's not rhetorical.

"Quinn Fabray, I'm making a video about the amazing summers and looking ahead of everyone in glee, what do you have to say!?" Emphatic. The boy is emphatic, dramatic. I seriously consider questioning if it's a Jewish thing but I can't afford to offend Berry- Rachel. I may need her.

"Why are you taking an interest, Jewfro? Aren't there actual loser clubs you could be interrogating?" Santana's actually are rhetorical questions.

"No, it's okay. I mean, there's no point, but don't you want to practice handling the paparazzi?" There are ways to manipulate Santana into helping you not offend Rachel so that you can wean her for whatever, whenever, and actually trust you about it.

"Great! How's the start to your junior year?" The fuzzy microphone is held a respectable distance from my face because I'm pretty sure ben-Israel actually wants to keep his hair and he's beaming at his recording machine of all things.

"Well, there are no baby hormones right now so there should be less crying this year." And, thank God. I'd just about been able to manage with girl hormones and female puberty and menstruation at sixteen, but all of that flying oestrogen nonsense last year was impossible. Actually pregnancy - I found ways to deal with; Freakin' girl hormones on, well, more girl hormones? Made me feel like a weak girl.

I'd always felt more like me doing things that Lucy couldn't, because girls don't, and I'd always be punished. And, when I learnt I was a girl (because what little kid actually understands gender or even physical, biological, sex?) I mostly forgot about everything that should have been a flashing warning sign that "YOU'RE NOT A GIRL". I was too busy, being a girl. When I was younger, I was too busy talking to other girls and learning how to make daisy chains because I really wasn't adept at it. Then, when things like that made other girls shun me, I was busy working hard to be a girl because I wanted to be. I wanted to fit, or something. I'm still not quite sure, but I am sure of one thing - and it involved a lot of talking with Puck over the last two weeks of school after I gave birth. Can you picture a guy up in stirrups pushing a human out of him? Even with girl parts, it's strange for me to imagine and I did it. So, Puck knows. He doesn't feel gay - or, according to the smirk we parted with when I was late getting home, "no more gay than I felt before. Bro." He high-fived me. Then, he told me "wait a sec, dude" and ran inside. He came back ten minutes later with his freshman gym bag (he's varsity now, different design) pretty stuffed.

He smiled and said "I still love you, but I figured - after I told you - it was like the bitchy older sister I wanted to hang with, and we'd both be awesome to our sweet little sister. That's our kind of family dynamic. Now, I see you like, you're just the bastard that went through shit and I'd totally kick out the top bunk." We both laughed, but Puck's was far more nervous. "That's, um, some shit you might want. Don't kill me if you don't, though." I smiled and turned to leave, not exactly equipped to hug him. "Wait, you might wanna open up like, here or in your car, cos you, like, you're living with your mom now and, if you don't want some of it, you could chuck it back at me and not, rather than, er, risk your mom finding it." I sat on the top step of the two halfway down his path, feet on the ground and bag now on the one step between my ass and feet. Puck joined me and unzipped the bag. It's, like, um, some old clothes. Like, some about your size and some a bit smaller if you- Yeah." He was looking at my breasts. "I know Finn's super self-conscious about his pudgy little man boobs. Like, he sometimes wears shirts in the bath, apparently, and I figure it's shit worse for you and, so, like. Yeah. There's um, running shit. Compression bandages." He rifled through some more and held up "boxers, like, clean ones. New ones. You know when my mom got some maternity shit, she actually bought these for you cos she'd read that, like, boxer briefs were more comfortable and stuff. She thought that meant actual men's boxers, so I guess these are actually yours anyway. This is like, I dunno, a first aid kit of shit after I got injured playing basketball. Thought you might, I dunno. Um, my old DS, a couple of CDs. Oh, and games. Yeah. Aftershave, and deodorant. A book my mom got me for you called 'How to be a man'. I think it's about stepping up and being a dad and shit, but I never read it. It's for you, anyway. Oh, and another book. It's a - math? notebook I never wrote in. I thought you could write like, have a journal or something. And I wrote Rachel's email address in it."

"What?"

"Well, she knows about shit like this. And she's actually awesome, and she wants to be your friend. And."

"Yeah." I knew what he was going to say. 'Tell people', or 'you need people', or even, 'you know you want more people who won't even mention it, but who know and who you can just be yourself around without it ever coming up and not even talking to, or about you. Just knowing you.'

So, I needed Rachel to trust I wasn't just taking the 'tranny' nicknames we'd given her too far. I wanted to tell Santana. ben-Israel was moving on to the boys, asking Puck if he had an eventful summer. I wasn't even looking to make he didn't say anything, I knew he wouldn't. In fact, he probably wouldn't say anything at all. Correct.

I turn to Santana and Brittany. Brittany, I love her, but she can't know.

"Hey, S, could-"

"Q, a word?" Puck.

Well, if I was ever going to use the boys' toilets... Puck had just pulled me in, told the other guys to clear out. Then he added "But Quinn might be in here a lot more." They just shrugged. I don't think they particularly cared about me, of all girls, being in there. I probably would, since I mostly just used the locker room bathrooms for actually going, the girls' bathrooms were for talking and make-up.

"You joined the Cheerios again! Why?"

"I actually like it, the gymnastics, the dancing. I do. I like basketball kinda more, but that ain't gunna happen. It won't be long before we're in winter kit, anyway." And it wouldn't. Sure, Ohio was getting unseasonably warmer year upon year (climate change, nice one, humanity) but it still wasn't warm by any stretch of the imagination.

"Oh. Okay. I just- don't want you. Sorry, bro, I don't want you hiding yourself or pretending shit ain't real because those are the kids that jump off bridges. Well, and the kids that get bullied because of- Shit, don't kill yourself." He hugged me.

"I'll try not to." I was honest. He was right. Some kids bottled it all up, denying themselves, and died. Others told everyone, and died. I think I'll strike a happy medium. It's what I was going for before. Myself, and a few friends, and then I'd maybe change, with a year out from college, and nobody there would know the difference, that I was ever in a woman's body. I'd have to tell some people, if I ever fell in love (and just who I was attracted to, I'm not sure, but that's not really important at the moment, in the scheme of things). "I promise."

Kurt walked in on us hugging.

"Oh McQueen, please tell me there is not another child in the near future."

I happy laughed.

"We're going to tell you everything, Kurt." I sounded head cheerleader-determined. Puck looked at me funny, then smiled wide. Great for him, and me, but disconcerting for Kurt.

"Everything about what, to be specific?" Wow, the kid was cautious.

"Well," where to begin? "I'm not pregnant."

"Good..."

"Nor am I a girl." Nothing, "Puck's the only one that knows. Well, and you."

"Really?" He is sensible.

"Yes, really. And I will honestly take your fashion advice myself if you don't tell anyone."

"Oh, my dear, I would never." Kid actually squealed. "Can I hug you? Oh, to hell with it all, I'm going to hug you, Quinn Fabray, my dear, because you have just made me really proud." Puck was still pseudo-hugging me, one arm over my shoulders, from my left, and Kurt was now encapsulating my right side and jumped a little bit, too. When he spoke next, he was deadly serious, a tone I'd only heard when fighting Mercedes on solo ideas. "Oh, no, I'm terribly sorry for any internal, and of course, what will be external struggle for you. I'm not happy about that, but I am happy that you felt like you can tell people, and me."

"Yeah. Can you let go?" Both other boys did.

"Will you actually let me dress you?" Kurt asked, skipping (I'm sorry, kid skipped!?) over to the urinal around the corner from the sinks.

"Er, you can take me shopping, but I'm not wearing any of it in public."

"Perfectly understandable." He returned and turned to the sinks, "Can one of you please get my soap from my pocket? Ugh, Quinn, it's my left blazer pocket. Honestly, Noah, I think the gayest thing about you is the, um. Never mind. Now, Quinn, hmm, Quinn's good. So, unless you have any standing arrangements, can I expect you on Saturday, say 11am? East Lima mall."

"I guess. Text me so I remember."

"Okay. What's your number?"

Kid was way too excited. He was never this excited about dressing Rachel up, until he thought it might win him Finn. Oh. "Dude, I'm straight." His face looked up from fishing his phone out of his other blazer pocket (tweed! And I was going to let him dress me? Oh, no.) but actually had fallen.

"Firstly, boys," he glared at Puck, "I'm mostly shocked at Quinn's use of 'dude'. Not entirely unexpected, but it sounded odd in your beautiful voice nonetheless." Eyebrows - both - raised at him. "As much a fact as any term of endearment sounds odd coming out of Finn's mouth. Speaking of. I really hate to have to ask this, but. Straight, how?" The eyes now, with brows already raised, turned to slits.

"I like girls, Kurt. And I know you didn't want to ask that. I should've explained-"

"No! Oh, no, no, no. It hurts more that you think you should have to do any sort of explaining than it did to ask. Right. What's your number?"

I'm sitting in math, counting down the minutes to lunch because - Cheerio or no - I am going to eat like a beast. I had a study period before this, but given the fact there is nothing to study yet, I went to check what we would be having. A Full English Breakfast. Not that the lunch ladies (twee as they are), nor anyone else in this godforsaken town, will know that. It's bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast - it's cholesterol on a plate. And it's delicious. My stomach growls and Santana, in front of me, turns around and whispers "I know you're used to eating like a whale, tubbers, but can you keeps it down. I'm try'n get my concentrate on." Hilarious. Wait. Okay, I notice breasts a lot. I like them. Not on me, but I do. That and the fact that I'm used to staring down my own mean that I can't help but recognise Santana's. They've grown. Perfect. I can use the threat of spreading this to keep her from telling people - no. I can tell Sue and become head cheerleader, and then none of the Cheerios can tell anyone. Because, sadly, I'm not certain what they may hear or see in that changing room.

Lunch be damned, I have to tell Sue now before I lose the nerve. I don't want Santana to see me as some sort of hypocrite and use anything against me to get back on top. I'm still hungry.

To Kid Gay: dude im starving. really. but im w/sue can u get me a finn-sized portion of bacon and eggs and stuff?

To Quinn Fabray: of course cheerio

Two minutes went by before Kurt texted again

To Quinn Fabray: I'm glad you're eating.

Then, it was only a few seconds before

To Quinn Fabray: you're not just going to use it to throw up or anything, are you? I'm just concerned.

I hadn't finished reading when the next one came in, an attempt to be lighthearted after that

To Quinn Fabray: also, a Finn-sized portion? I'm concerned about that, too :)

To Kid Gay: no, im really hungry. to both. and thank you. to all?

To Quinn Fabray: haha, you're welcome.

I was about to pocket the phone when it buzzed again (yes, I'd set Kurt's ringtone to Madonna but it was on vibrate)

To Quinn Fabray: you know, you're the only one who calls me 'dude'

How do you respond to that? Oh, yeah, with something cheesy and perhaps true; I'm not sure if I believe it, but it might be.

To Kid Gay: nobody else sees you like a dude?

Okay, the idea is hard to put into words, but the kid's clever.

To Quinn Fabray: I think I know exactly what you mean there.

then

To Quinn Fabray: somehow. would it kill you text less guy-ish, just for me? :)

I know that the smile is Kurt being in good humour. Comfort after something serious. He's pretty good at it.

To Kid Gay: its an effort. i didnt know how to put that . i got you :)

To Quinn Fabray: I'm aware. I just meant, grammatically speaking, some punctuation could do no harm :)

To Quinn Fabray: are we friends?

To Kid Gay: cool. punctuation it is.

To Kid Gay: oh, yeah, 'course.

To Quinn Fabray: wow, you managed one text like a human!

To Kid Gay: ha! why were never frnds b4

To Kid Gay: we*

To Quinn Fabray: I think you know we weren't friends, and I hereby resolve that we never mention it unless you need to get some stuff off your chest.

To Quinn Fabray: and really, out of all of that you choose to correct the fact you missed 'we'!?

To Kid Gay: you have no idea how much stuff i gotta get off my chest ;)

To Quinn Fabray: I think I'm having a heart attack! Quinn Fabray, was that a joke!?

To Kid Gay: tlkn to sue now gtg

To Quinn Fabray: please, please, text syntactically correctly! You are in my english class, Mr. Fabray! :)

"Hi, coach!"

"Q, why are you wasting my time already? You're back on the squad, I'm sure you still have your uniform. Unless it doesn't fit after that thing you had."

Gosh, I'm glad I'm used to blocking most of what she says.

"I just thought it was prudent for you to know that Santana had some surgery over the summer." Oh, great.

"Continue."

"She got a boob job, and I'd like to be captain again."

Leaving the office, head cheerleader once more, I swallow when I hear Santana's name being called over the intercom. Seconds later, I have four texts.

From Brit, Santana (despite our contact names, me and Santana love each other really), and, though I wonder in response to what, Kurt.

To Quinnnnnnnie: Santana wants to know if she can go to see Sue?

To Slut: what u done whore?

See, girls text lazily, too. I don't need to type with standard English for Kurt, but at least I am certain he was cracking a joke about typing 'guy-ish'.

To Quinn Fabray: Why does Sue want Santana?

To Quinn Fabray: Are you alright, Cheerio?

So I respond

To Brit: yes, make her go

To Bitch: i dunno. i was just w/sue

To Kid Gay: yeah. im head cheerleader now.

A long vibration, phone back in my bra (seriously, girls don't have pockets and it might as well be useful for something), warns that I've maybe got responses from all three at once.

To Quinnnnnnnie: ok :)

To Slut: and?

To Quinn Fabray: she's going to murder you. Separately, but on a related note, I spoke to Noah, and he told me what you promised.

I will ignore the bitch.

To Kid Gay: yeah im okay dude. i can handle lezpez

To Quinn Fabray: I'm sorry, what?

To Kid Gay: oh yeah, i cant say that

To Quinn Fabray: because it's a slur or because Santana would kill you?

To Kid Gay: both. bitch'd kill me if she knew i knew and if i told any1 and i gotta stop w all the name calling but im a dick n its how me n puck call her

To Quinn Fabray: honestly, English is your native tongue. Unlike 'lezpez', who I suggest you talk to sometime. I'm not a big fan of cheerleaders, but we can't lose any more members of glee club.

To Kid Gay: santana aint gunna kill herslef if brits still putin otu

To Quinn Fabray: I do care about you, too.

To Kid Gay: oh, thx . really dude

To Kid Gay: i was thinkn of

To Quinn Fabray: You're not going to start texting in standard English, are you?

To Kid Gay: n

To Quinn Fabray: I won't gossip about the unholy trinity, either.

To Kid Gay: thx wheres my food?

To Quinn Fabray: how on Earth has nobody noticed you're a boy before!? :)

To Kid Gay: dresses

To Quinn Fabray: I'm outside the spanish room. I'd say you owe me $3, but it's a treat for a growing boy :)

To Kid Gay: u suck. thx :)

The next morning, I was happy. I stashed the bag Puck gave me in the cavity behind my night stand. I still had to wear spanks, but they were better than proper panties. So, I was happy. That is, until Santana came barrelling into me, cursing. Shue wasn't impressed, Brit got over it. I don't know if either of us won the scrap - because, God, I wasn't going to punch a girl - but I came out on top. Tighten that high pony, whore, made it understandable when I accosted her during study period.

"Why have you dragged us into the bathroom, Q?"

"We need to talk, Santana."

"About what? How much of a bitch you are?"

"No, about-" she was glaring at me and stole the words from me without hearing them. Good thing I brought a prop. "We are friends and will help each other with shit, right?"

She considered and uncrossed her arms from her chest. "Are you pregnant again, Q?"

"No. We both need to talk about this." Her eyes questioned my face before flicking to the pamphlet I had Kurt snatch from Miss Pillsbury. It was cool for him to do, but I don't want to catch me and force me to talk to her yet.

"I ain't a fucking rainbow, Fabgay!"

"Okay." It wouldn't be that easy, and they weren't obvious to anyone but me - at the moment. "Well, I'm not gay-"

"Great! So what was this meeting for!?"

"Santana." My voice, pleading, sincere, desperate?, but definitely serious as it had been before, made her look back to me and soften.

"So what are you, Q? I won't tell anyone. Promise." and she smiled.

Genuine, and I had to take a deep breath. "I'm a boy."

I think that was one of, maybe the largest option she'd been considering when she asked.

"Okay. And you like girls?"

"I think so."

"You're brave."

Could I say 'You're not'? No. "Thank you."

"Do you want, what, something?"

"Just, hah, just for you to treat me like normal. And don't let on."

"Okay. Hey, I had an idea."

"Yeah?"

"You might not want it, but. I have a - thingy. Brit got it because she, er-"

"Is it, what I think it is? A. Geez, a fake penis?"

"Yeah. Do you want it?"

"It's clean?"

"Still in the box. It's in Brit's room, we could have a sleepover Friday if you like. I mean, if you like sleepovers?"

"They're not bad. And I would like to pick it up, if I can have it."

"Sure. Okay. Guess I shouldn't tell Brit, though?"

"Sorry you have to keep a secret."

"I know she'd just. Not even tell, but call you 'he' in front of everyone or something. Forget not to."

"Yeah. Thanks. See you in glee?"

So now me and Santana have an understanding and I just have to see what the new stupid ideas to get more members for glee are without wanting to punch Hudson.

Finn Hudson, who's now in a strop. He's a child. I have to tell him.

"Finn, why are you pouting like a newborn baby?"

Everyone stares. I guess I could have used a less sensitive analogy, even if I am the one should be sensitive about it. It was a general simile, though. Guess what, Finn didn't notice.

"Well," Puck interrupts as Finn looks like he's about to storm over and rip my head off, "Coach Beiste is a woman, but looks like a man, but does not, like really does not, like to be called dude. At all." He looks like he is trying to convey something to me. Probably either 'here's an opening to tell everyone', or 'don't be pissed off, dude, 'cos if Hudson had told you it would've been more offensive than what you just said about our kid'. I turn my eyes to Finn and back, then raise my eyebrows in question. Puck nods, which means it was the latter and I'm glad he knows, because I could well have got really mad at Finn and maybe said or done something I don't want yet.

Even so, Kurt audibly swallows when he notices that we're still staring at each other. Santana, sat next to him but sideways facing Brittany, hears him and then notices, too. One of them had better help this situation.

"Wow, Fabray, didn't think you actually liked Puckerman. Better get away from those tracks before they take you down to Lima Heights, or maybe detour into preggers city." Bitch. At least it was appropriate and totally saved us.

"Bitch, we all know that you were the 99 times conception didn't happen." I had to. Santana smiled at me a little when I sat down on Brit's other side, Shue obviously telling us to stop fighting again letting me zone out for the rest of the hour whilst he and Hudson talked about, I don't know, Journey, probably.