A Prayer for the Wild at Heart (Part One)
“In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and has wildly been regarded as a bad move.” -Douglas Adams
It starts with a song.
Seriously, that’s how it begins with a song. Its how most stories start when you’re a member of New Directions. So if you were hoping for a story without the music then sorry to disappoint. I mean, music…it has a power you know? You can express how you truly feel. You never have to hide when it’s just you and that song or instrument. I feel like I can be who I really am, I forget about popularity and the thousand little problems that high school brings when there’s a great song thrumming through the air.
…Wow I didn’t know I could be really poetic. It makes me kind of proud.
Sorry um where was I?
Oh right, it started a week after Rachel and I broke up. The kind of boyfriend that she wanted, well I wasn’t sure that I could be that guy for her anymore. Plus she was acting kind of psycho and it freaked me the hell out. I can’t believe she sent that Sunshine girl to a crack-house. I mean seriously? I mean I thought she was what I wanted but there was something not right at the same time. Maybe we weren’t compatible, maybe it was something totally different.
So we broke up. Rachel looked devastated but whether it was that we broke up or the fact that she lost (what I always secretly believed) a status symbol.
Add to that, I’m thrown off the football team. I mean I would totally stand by Artie. I felt bad for him y’know? With the whole break-up with Tina. Plus the tank wheelchair idea sounded really, really kickass. So I wasn’t blaming him, but I needed football too. I liked being able to get my anger out by tackling other guys into the dirt with all my might. It’s kind of freeing in a way and I had a lot of pent up aggression meaning that I had a date with the punching bag while the guys where at football practice.
Moving on, it started with a song as I was walking back from tutoring. Yes you read that right tutoring. Mom does this thing where she makes feel so guilty that she can force me to do anything. And getting tutoring from Mrs. Wingfield, who looked like she was older than dirt and put the dinosaurs in detention, four nights a week was on the agenda for guilt this time.
So it started when I heard the gentle playing of a piano as I walked down the hallway….
“Ideas are dangerous, but the man to whom they are least dangerous is the man of ideas. He is acquainted with ideas, and moves among them like a lion tamer. Ideas are dangerous, but to the man to whom they are most dangerous is the man of no ideas.” -G.K. Chesterton
It’s the kind of late summer day where a kid feels like school is a boa constrictor slowly squeezing the life out of them with every tick of the clock. To Finn Hudson, it felt a million times worse. School had been out for several hours at the point. The sky was just only beginning to turn pink with the soft, lazy rays of twilight. He sighed as he shifted his backpack to a more comfortable spot. He was slowly coming to despise tutoring with a passion of a thousand suns. But Mrs. Wingfield, the old bat, insisted that it was something “a boy of his intellect needed”, which meant that she thought he was dumber than a bag of rocks. He hated Mrs. Wingfield and the fact that she made him feel like he was an idiot. He would’ve ignored her offers but his mom found out about them and used her special Mom superpower to guilt him into going.
Sometimes, Finn really hated that his mom had a superpower over knowing just what to say to make him feel bad into doing whatever she wanted him to do. But he also admitted that he was a Mama’s boy at heart, that’s why he liked Burt he worried about her with possibility of college looming distinctly over the horizon. Burt would take good care of his Mom.
Hitching up his backpack’s shoulder strap, Finn contemplated taking the long way home or the short cut that took him through three backyards and the Old Miller Place (supposedly haunted but Finn can smell bull from a mile off so he didn’t mind cutting through). He was continuing this contemplation when a soft strain of a piano drifted through the choir room.
The former quarterback blinked, wondering who on Earth would be there so late. The hallways were practically deserted, teachers and students fleeing as soon as their individual days were done. Finn couldn’t honestly think of a single person who would be there besides Mrs .Wingfield.
Curiosity outweighing everything else in his mind, Finn slowly walked toward the slightly ajar door. Positioning himself where he could hear the music without being seen, Finn listened.
“And he’s oh so good
And he’s oh so fine
And he’s oh so healthy
In his body and his mind
He’s a well respected man about town
Doing the best things so conservatively”
Finn froze as he listened to the familiar voice. It was Mister Schue singing in the choir room. Finn paused listening to the teacher sing. He was leaning against the wall wrapped up in the soft sadness that laced Mister Schue’s voice. It was odd. He’s heard Mister Schue sing dozens of times, but this was the first time he’s really listened to him.
He had a really good voice. It was soft and smooth, but still held every emotion in his voice. Finn shut his eyes allowing the song to wash over him. It was strange to think that Mister Schue could sound so sad. Finn remembers after the news of Mister Schue’s psycho wife broke out in the school, even then Mister Schue looked more pissed then sad.
It kind of freaked him out to hear that tone of sadness in the normally cheerful voice.
“And he adores the girl next door
Cause he’s dying to get at her”
He sounded so lost, realized Finn. It was odd to hear cheerful, confident Mister Schuester sound like that: sad and lost. Slowly the last of the piano died away, and Finn didn’t dare breathe or say a word. He felt like he intruded on an intimately private moment: one that was so raw that you never mention hearing. It was a type of moment that if it was Puck he would break an arm over it.
So Finn, quickly and deliberately, turned away and fled out of the school. Maybe he was being chicken but he for some reason he didn’t want Mister Schue to realize that he had heard him.
It doesn’t stop him from going back the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
And the next.
Quickly, the stop outside the choir room to listen to Mister Schue has become as habitual as his daily cursing of Mrs. Wingfield or his games of Hangman with Artie during their English class.
Sooner than it possibly seemed two weeks had passed by without any warning. School settled into its usual, soul-crushing monotony with Sue Sylvester doing most of the soul-crushing. Though Finn heard those girls who worshipped the dead possum were also down with the soul crushing. But easily enough, Finn had a routine.
He crouched outside the choir room with his back against the lockers as he listened to the latest song that Mister Schue had chosen.
“My shadow’s
Only one that walks beside me
My shadow’s
The only heart that’s beating”
This one is filled with raw pain. It breaks Finn’s heart to hear like totally shatters it into a million pieces. It’s so open and oddly vulnerable. Mister Schue’s voice isn’t soft but kind of raspy, like he had been crying. Finn remembered hearing some of the teachers gossiping about Mister Schue briefly, saying things about his personal life.
He heard them tutting over the fact that Mister Schue apparently has a different woman on each arm. (Apparently he was also called a “man whore” last year by Miss Pillsbury after she had a therapy session with Coach Sylvester.)
“I swear,” bemoaned Mrs. Albright, one of the chemistry teacher, “He was such a good boy when he was younger.”
“Did you hear that he kicked Terri out of the apartment?” questioned Mister Grayard, the Trig teacher, “I mean I don’t think that’s a way to treat a woman especially one as fragile as Terri is.”
“You know I’ve seen him around town with that Rhodes girl,” chimed in Mrs. Daniels, the French teacher, “And I saw him with that pretty female glee coach from Carmel. Poor Emma, it’s a good thing she had enough sense to stay away.”
Finn couldn’t take it anymore and stalked away, fully prepared to spend his gym class getting out some of the pent up anger.
And as he turned the corner, he saw Mister Schue standing there looking guilty with sheet music clutched to his chest. His gray-green eyes were staring at his Converse sneakers. He was obviously listening in. They were still talking about him, judging by the way Mister Schue flinched with every verbal letdown. I. He looked so young that it broke his heart. Finn had never really put any thought as to how young Mister Schue was…but he really was young and had no one in his corner it seemed.
Finn had come to two conclusions.
Conclusion one: High school never really ends, which is a depressing and mildly frightening thought.
Conclusion two: Miss Pillsbury must be even crazier than previously suspected if she went to Coach Sylvester for therapy and willingly took the advice. Even Finn knows that’s a bad idea.
He thinks of Mister Schue’s nice smiles and bright eyes. He wonders how many of those smiles are really faked for their benefit. As the music yanks Finn out of his contemplation.
“Sometimes I wish that
someone up there will find me”
It sounds so quiet, so full of utter longing. Finn wondered why he never, ever truly listened to Mister Schue before. Because for all the bull of eyes being the windows to the soul and for the face giving away a person’s personality…none of those people have ever truly listened to someone sing before.
The emotions were as clear as a punch to the jaw: sharp and cracking and with a long phantom pain that seemed to sweep through him hours afterwards.
As the song tapered off, Finn turned on his heel and fled again. His mind came up with a third conclusion as the doors to the school close behind him.
Conclusion three: Mister Schue really doesn’t have any friends on the faculty if they’re being so fucking mean to him. And that kind of pisses him off.
The next day at school, Finn made an effort to smile at Mister Schue more and asked how he was doing. The look of utter surprise on his face broke Finn’s heart before Mister Schue said.
“I’m doing alright, Finn. How are you?”
And Finn wanted to confess all then and there. He wanted to confess that he heard Mister Schue sing. He wanted to say that the desperation and loneliness in his voice utterly broke Finn. He wanted to say that he was there for Mister Schue even if he was dumb, foolish kid who couldn’t offer much, he could offer his support.
However, he didn’t say any of those things. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, dancing to get out. Unfortunately the words seemed to have inherited Finn’s lack of grace, so the tumbled back down his throat. He could only smile: a nice, toothy grin.
“Oh I’m doing pretty good, Mister Schue.”
Mister Schue smiled at that. It seemed honest enough but there was something inherently wrong about it. Like the smile reflected pathetic gratitude rather than anything else. Finn wondered how many people have left him to make even a simple “How are you” appear to be a novelty.
And it kind of pissed him off all over again.
Finn couldn’t stay to listen to Mister Schue’s latest song. So he took a different path after tutoring, a longer one that avoided the choir room. He needed to think.
He very quickly, briskly to put it in a better context, walked out of the school.
Finn didn’t run like the girl in the horror movie that always gets the axe to the back first.
At the same time, he didn’t take a leisurely stroll through the park either. He walked very, very, very quickly through the three backyard and the Old Miller Place in order to get to the safety and peace of his house. Where everything made sense there.
He knew that he listened in on something that he probably shouldn’t have heard. He lets himself into the house, finding his mom gone out for the night (possibly with Burt). Finn found the note that confirmed it and some leftovers from last night to heat up for his dinner. While the meatloaf was going round and round in the microwave, Finn booted up the relatively newer and slightly faster computer that his mom kept downstairs. While he didn’t mind using his slower than a turtle one upstairs, Finn had to research the songs.
He had to know what was going through Mister Schue’s head.
He had to do something.
He realized that he was sounding a little bit stalkery. But Mister Schue had been there for him from when he found out about Quinn’s pregnancy to the lies surrounding it through the whole St. James debacle last year. Then there was the whole basement incident when Finn had turned up at Mister Schue’s office, halfway to blubbering because he knew that he screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to his Mom because he couldn’t deal with Kurt’s advances.
Mister Schue cared about him, truly cared without expecting anything in returned. So yeah if Mister Schue was having an existential crisis through music then Finn was going make sure that he was there for his favorite teacher.
So Finn typed in the lyrics from the songs he’s heard again and again: late at night when he’s trying to fall asleep but his mind is running a full speed. He found most of the songs and listened to them over and over again. He should be doing his homework, but sometimes there are more important things then school. After listening to the majority of the songs about a half a dozen times, Finn slowly tore out a page of notebook paper and began to write down the common themes.
Entrapment, isolation, loneliness, un-acceptance, sorrow…
Gnawing on his lip, Finn made up his mind then and there. Mister Schue needed someone in his corner. He needed someone to back him up. He needed a bro and no one was stepping up to the plate. Finn’s mom didn’t raise a fool. She taught him that if someone needed his help then he should help them with everything he’s got.
Mister Schue needed his help, whether he knew it or not. Finn may not be good for much. He wasn’t particularly smart or funny. He was uncoordinated and wasn’t charming. But he knew that one thing he had in spades was loyalty.
Mister Schue had just acquired one of the most loyal teenagers on the planet on his side. Finn leaned back in the chair with his brow furrowed.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to tackle the whole situation first.
“When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him.” -Euripides
Of course, making a decision and acting on it are two different things.
Cut me some slack. I never really had to do anything like that before. So I had to plan or something like planning. I mean how does a teenager approach a guy a good decade older than them without sounding like a spoiled dick? Even I knew that required some subtle touches.
Naturally, since the universe seems to fucking hate me at times, the next day was the beginning of the Britney Spears Debacle. The mere mention of her made my skin crawl. Sometimes I curse the power that Facebook seems to have. I mean I don’t mind doing those world famous pop singers. I actually kind of like Lady Gaga…well over Britney Spears at least. And I feel like if I stood next to her then I wasn’t going to get some sort of STD.
So yeah.
However, an opportunity presented itself the day when Carl Howell decided to show his face at Glee. It was lunchtime and Mom actually made me some of her awesome, fuckin’ delicious subs…
“Sometimes he would scribble something on a sheet of paper by his side. It was covered in symbols that only eight other people in the world would have been able to comprehend; two of them won Nobel Prizes, one of the other six dribbled a lot and wasn’t allowed anything sharp because of what he might do with it.” -Good Omens
Finn whistled as he walked. His fingers absently twisted around the gauzy material of the plastic shopping bag in his hands. Two of his mom’s extra delicious, extra large, stuffed for his pleasure subs were nestled inside the bag along with a bottle of Coke and half a bag of chips that he picked up on his walk to school.
He could feel the delicious-ness of the sandwich call to him from the bag. He paused when he passed by the Spanish room, peering in Finn was surprised to see Mister Schue at his desk, eating his lunch and reading a book. Finn blinked a couple times before looking at his bag of lunch food then at the lone teacher sitting at his desk. Making a decision, he walked into the room.
“Mister Schue?”
The teacher jumped a half of foot into the air, dropping his book. He glanced at Finn looking for all the world like the child who got his hand caught in the cookie jar.
“Sorry,” said Finn smothering a smile, “It must have been a really good book.”
“I was just re-reading it.”
“What is it?”
Mister Schue’s cheeks took a distinctly pink color, “The seventh Harry Potter book.”
“That was an awesome book!” said Finn happily as he strolled into the room, “I didn’t realize you were a fan.”
“Who isn’t a fan?”
“Point there,” said Finn with a smile, “Favorite book?”
“Third,” said Mister Schue with a small smile.
“Same here,” said Finn as he grabbed a chair and nonchalantly sat down. Mister Schue’s brow furrowed as he looked at the chair and then up at Finn, who smiled innocently, “Would you like some company?”
“Wouldn’t you rather eat lunch in the caf?”
“Not really,” said Finn as he sat down, “I have a feeling where the conversation is going to go and I rather ignore it.”
Mister Schue’s brow furrowed even deeper as he contemplated what Finn was saying. He looked up at the metaphorical light bulb clicked on in his head.
“They’re not going to let the Britney Spears thing die, aren’t they?”
“Nope,” said Finn as he opened one of the sandwiches marveling at its meaty, cheesy, vegetable-y, totally awesome goodness. His mom was amazing, seriously.
“Aw hell,” swore the teacher under his breath. Finn’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“Well if it’s any consolation,” said Finn as he took a contemplative bite of his sub, “I don’t like Britney Spears at all. I mean I don’t know about any adult contemporary but that’s bound to be better than her right?”
Mister Schue looked up at Finn, who sat there eating his totally awesome mom-made sub, before his mouth curled into a rare genuine smile.
They ate in a steady silence for a couple of minutes before Finn looked at the book.
“So,” said the teenager, “where do you think the cut-off point will be?”
Mister Schue stared at Finn before letting out a small chuckle.
They spent the rest of the lunch period talking about things of no real importance, but Finn was able to make Mister Schue laugh genuinely five times and smile genuinely about four times. So he counted as a win in his favor.
Then Carl fucking Howell had to come around and ruin all his work.
He looked like that guy with the mullet from the show with the Olsen twins and Bob Saget. Except you know minus the mullet. Finn knew that he wasn’t the most observant person in the world, but even he could tell a subtle verbal smack down when he saw one.
Carl was subtle and delicately prodding and poking at Mister Schue’s state. Flaunting what the man had obviously wanted: a relationship with Miss Pillsbury. Finn shut his eyes and flexed his fingers into a fist and began to open and close a couple of times. He wondered the likelihood of him getting sent to juvie for kicking the ever loving hell out of Carl.
However, pissed as he was at this new guy, Finn found a bit of disgust for Miss Pillsbury grow in the bit of his stomach. Sure she was nice and sweet and all kinds of socially awkward, but surely she had noticed how bummed Mister Schue was? Granted, she probably ignored it because she couldn’t shove a fucking pamphlet at the problem. But still wasn’t she Mister Schue’s friend? Well as far as Finn knew you didn’t shove your boyfriend into the face of your broken-hearted, obviously crushing on you friend. Because that was kind of a shitty thing to do.
Finn ended his train of thought right there about Miss Pillsbury. He shouldn’t be thinking of a lady like that. His mom would use her mom guilt superpower on him if she could read his thoughts then and there.
He watched Carl and rolled his eyes as his fellow glee members were utterly charmed by him.
Finn practically ran out of the choir room, proceeded to the gym, and then began to beat the ever loving hell out of the punching bag with images of Carl’s face and Mister Schue’s obvious retreating into himself.
This was going to be harder than he previously thought.
Walking down the hallway from yet another tutoring session (Finn has decided that Wuthering Heights is possibly one of the worst books ever written in the history of ever. He has never wanted to smack two characters more than in the course of reading that damn thing.), Finn took his usual spot outside the choir room when he heard the music pour out.
This time, it wasn’t a piano that drifted through the room. It was lazy guitar that Finn connected with the South, the blues. He didn’t know that Mister Schue could play the electric guitar. His voice was utterly different again: a mixture of heaviness that spiraled into a kind of a growling edge to his voice. It was definitely a rocker voice, which sounded pretty fucking cool to Finn.
If he had to choose between Carl and Mister Schue, then Finn would definitely choose Mister Schue in this moment with his growling heavy voice with the blues-y Southern sounding guitar cutting through the air.
“Black cloud crossed my mind
Blue mist round my soul
Feel so suicidal
Even hate my rock and roll
Wanna die yeah wanna die
If I ain't dead already
Ooh girl you know the reason why”
Finn closed his eyes tight, inner strength resolving itself at those words. This was one of the rare moments when Finn hated what the world does to people. Especially awesome people, why are they always the ones that get hurt the most?
Why does no one see them?
Especially guys like Mister Schue.
The next day there are tales of Britney Spears fantasies and hallucinogenic dentist gas. Finn’s not that surprised.
“See!” exclaimed Kurt at lunch, “It’s a sign for us to do Britney!”
Finn briefly wondered what hallucinations about Britney Spears had to do with signs to perform her stuff. After several moments of contemplation, he shook his head clear of the thoughts. That was just going to give him a headache.
“Have you guys noticed anything with Mister Schue lately?” asked Finn as he speared one of the tater tots which were the only the caf could do right.
“Besides him being totally unreasonable?” moaned Kurt dramatically, “Nothing out of the ordinary. Still the same old boring Mister Schuester.”
“Oh God,” said Mercedes with a roll of her eyes, “That adult contemporary crap? Boy I don’t do restrained! It’s not good for my voice to be all quiet!”
“Why do you ask, Finn?” questioned Rachel as she turned her big brown eyes at him. In the past, Finn would have been putty in her hands, but they seemed to have lost their charm. He answered the question though, he wondered if anyone else saw it.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug, “He’s just seemed kind of down lately.”
“Probably still hung up over his wife,” muttered Kurt, “God they’ve been broken up for how long?”
“Maybe he needs to get laid,” Artie pointed out, “Then he would be amenable to our song suggestions.”
“Do you think this sadness would ruin our rehearsals? Oh God we can’t have a depressed teacher running glee it would flush our chances at Sectionals down the toilet!” fretted Rachel with wide eyes.
Finn, who couldn’t take all this dissing, stood suddenly shoving his chair back. The table turned to look at him with wide eyes at the restrained anger in his actions.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” he muttered as an excuse. Then he stalked to the gym and began to systematically beat the ever-living hell out of the punching bag.
“Hudson!” barked Coach Bieste as she walked into the room.
Finn turned on his heel and stared at the woman, “Yes ma’am?”
“I’ve been reconsidering your and Abrams’ proposal,” said the woman.
“Really?”
“Really,” she paused, “Today after your glee club is done. I expect to see you and Abrams in the locker room. I have to admit no one would be expecting a battering ram on the football field.”
Finn grinned wildly, “Oh my God! Thanks Coach! I really appreciate this, you know?”
“Don’t go thanking me yet, Hudson,” pointed out Bieste, “Can I ask why you’re here though?”
“I had to work out some anger,” said Finn with a shrug.
“Well save it for the field, Hudson.”
Finn was grinning wildly. He couldn’t help it and he gave the coach a ginormous bear hug. The woman seemed surprised as he pulled away and ran out of the room.
“Thanks again, Coach! I promise you won’t regret it!”
Friends acting like self-absorbed assholes and depressed teachers non-withstanding, Finn was glad that at least one problem was solved. Now if he could get Mister Schue to laugh and smile more and stop singing those sad songs than everything would be golden.
Of course the euphoric feeling could only last so long.
Normally Finn was a pretty mellow laid-back guy. He preferred not to use violence in a situation that does not call for it. He doesn’t believe in harsh words (incident with Kurt being a rare exception to the rule) or using his gigantic height to get his way in the world. Though sometimes people do that on their own, (kind of weird but it also got Finn half priced tacos). Finn knew that he could take out his anger in more progressive ways. He went running three times a week. He practiced his boxing in on the crappy punching bag.
This is all well and good but football, with all the high emotions and the desire to prove yourself, is the only very healthy way that Finn had to get his anger out.
Since Bieste had been totally awesome and allowed him and Artie to join the team a couple of days ago, Finn had worked out some of the pent up emotions. But there were a lot more bubbling under the surface. Kurt going on and on about the five member Facebook group about New Directions doing Britney Spears was getting a little redundant.
For one, Finn found Britney Spears to be annoying and not all that attractive. For two, Finn also harbored the feeling that if he got within ten feet of her then he was getting some sort of disease, which is how he felt about most celebrities today anyway.
For three, Finn thought her music sucked.
He doesn’t understand how hallucinations brought on by happy gas gave people free reign to go insane. Seriously, the fact that people were having hallucinations about Britney Spears should have been enough for a trip to Miss Pillsbury. Mister Schue was also having a similar dilemma, if the music is anything to go by, as well as something akin to a mid-life crisis, if the bright yellow Corvette was also anything to go by.
Then Kurt said it.
“God Mister Schue you are so out of touch!”
Before Mister Schue could even open his mouth to respond, Finn was standing up. His control snapped and there were fire in his eyes.
“Shut up!” he yelled surprising everyone. Anger at the situation, at the fact that he couldn’t help Mister Schue, that he couldn’t do the fucking tutoring right, that Carl Howell was an asshole dentist who gave kids Britney Spears hallucinations. Anger, anger, anger had been percolating inside of him and it had unfortunately ruptured.
“Finn?” asked Rachel tentatively. Finn couldn’t even look at her dressed all slutty. He hated how she always tried to changer herself, to make herself fit in for a part that she was never going to play in high school.
“God! Can we please stop talking about Britney Spears?! Just because five freakin’ people want us to perform it doesn’t mean the rest of us do!!! For one, I hate her. For two, well I think her music blows monkey chunks.”
“Right on,” said Puck, who went unnoticed, but it was nice for Finn to know his bro had his back.
“Doesn’t it freak anyone out that we’re going on this based on people’s hallucinations while high on laughing gas? I don’t know why you are all so pissed. But don’t take it out on Mister Schue. He’s right about Britney not being a role model. Unless you want to grow up, become famous, be stalked by the vultures known as the paparazzi, have a mental breakdown, shave your head, and attack a car with an umbrella. Because that is a weird life goal there. I know that I don’t want to look up to her. Ever. So go on and keep on pushing, but don’t insult the only person who will at least meet you halfway. I remember you distinctly singing a very different tune when he let you guys do Lady Gaga a couple months ago. I mean if all you want to do is emulate some white trash celebrity slut, then go ahead, but at least he thinks that you guys could be more than that! You wouldn’t be talking to any other teacher like that, Kurt or any of you (except Puck), so shut up and lay the hell off!”
Everyone, including Mister Schue, stared at him in shock. Finn, who was breathing heavy from the lack of air used to deliver his rant, was satisfied that he made his point, turned on his heel and walked out of the room going to football practice. He paused at the entrance to the choir before saying.
“When Artie, Mike, and Puck show up to practice I better hear that you apologized or else I’ll tell your dad that you’ve been disrespecting a teacher.”
Not even bothering to look at the room, Finn still simmering a quiet rage strolled to the locker. Even Karofsky and Azimo didn’t mess with him like this. People knew better than to mess with Finn Hudson when he was pissed.
Bieste looked up in obvious surprise when Finn walked into the locker room early.
“Hudson? What’re you doing here?”
“Well Coach, my soon to be stepbrother spoke out of turn to Mister Schue. Unfortunately I had to remind him of several things especially choices in role models.”
A quick upturn of the lips was all that gave away to Bieste’s approval.
“Alright Hudson, I need you to get into a better tackle form. Go out there and break a couple of those dummies. Might as well enjoy our new budget.”
Realizing that Bieste was giving him a more productive way to vent his anger, Finn quickly suited up and ran out to the field.
Puck reported, with barely restrained delight, that Kurt had apologized albeit grudgingly but Finn figured it was better than nothing.
There wasn’t a song that night but a conversation.
“I don’t understand why he did it,” whispered Mister Schue’s voice. It seemed to echo in the deadly quiet of the school.
“Because he has a good heart,” began Coach Bieste, “I think that kid is more perceptive then anyone gives him credit for. Even you and me. He’s a good person.”
“Yeah,” murmured Mister Schue with a strange sense of wonderment in his tone, “Yeah he is.”
Finn quietly grinned to himself as he walked out of the doors to the school.
He still went to apologize the next day, stopping at Mister Schue’s office before homeroom began.
“Mister Schue?”
The teacher looked up and gave Finn a gentle smile, “Hello Finn.”
“Uh hi,” said Finn as he glanced at his worn sneakers, “Look I really want to apologize for my outburst yesterday. I mean I hope I didn’t embarrass you in any way but I couldn’t let Kurt talk to you like that. Not when you’ve been so awesome to all of us and well I could have handled it better.”
“Calm down, Finn,” said Mister Schue gently, “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” said Mister Schue, “I mean at least you understand where I’m coming from in your own way.”
“I do?”
“The kind of music that they want to play isn’t art. There’s no emotion behind other than hormone driven lust. It’s prepackaged and premade for mass consumption. Frankly, Finn the music has no real heart behind it which is why I object to it on a creative level. Adding onto that I don’t want to send a wrong message to anyone, especially the girls. I’ve been a feminists for ages and when a singer is signed because, and I quote, ‘She looked like the sweet, All-American girl that you just wanted to defile and do bad things to.’ It makes my skin crawl a little when I read that a couple years ago. Also I just don’t see Britney Spears as a good role model, two failed marriage and a well-documented substance abuse problem are just the tip of the iceberg for her. And I wouldn’t have felt right as an educator doing that.”
“Wow,” said Finn blinking. He only heard that much real passion out of the teacher when he sang.
“I know the others think I’m being mean and unfair and old. But I do have my reasons and I really didn’t think I would have to explain them especially to a group of pissed off teenagers with a Facebook group.”
“Does five even count as a group?” questioned Finn.
“I don’t know,” confessed the teacher with a shrug. He sighed, “And the worst part in all of this is that I know I’m gonna cave. Because I really don’t want to force you guys into doing something that you don’t want to do.”
They sat in a contemplative silence for a couple of moments. Finn stared at the older man before opening his mouth and saying,
“You know Mister Schue? You’re too nice for your own good sometimes.”
The teacher just smiled at him sadly, “You’re probably right Finn.”
It was a slightly tenser atmosphere in glee that day. Finn walked in pointedly didn’t look at the majority of the club and sat next to Puck, who seemed to be enjoying this way too much.
“Dude they’re fucking terrified,” whispered Puck to him.
Finn could only shrug, though his mouth upturned very distinctively.
“Good Afternoon, everyone!” said Mister Schue as he swept into the room with that false smile.
Silence greeted him. The teacher paused and blinked. His eyes flicked to Finn, who only shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do? They fear me now’.
“Alright kids,” said the teacher as he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, “I’ve had a lot to think about these last couple of days. And this is my piece. I don’t like Britney Spears for many reasons. I feel like her music caters to the more sexualized and lustful urges. It has the kind of mass-marketed over-sexualized sheen that makes me blanch as an educator.”
Mister Schue paused for a moment, “Despite every fiber of my being screaming ‘No’. I don’t want to force you guys to do something that you’re so clearly against. So we will be doing Britney Spears at the assembly.”
A cheer went up in the room, but quickly quieted when they realized that he wasn’t done talking yet. Actually Finn could have sworn that Mister Schue looked downright devious at that moment.
“Some ground rules (“Does it still count as ground rules in we’re on the second floor?” whispered Brittany to Santana who shushed her.): we’re doing it my way or not at all. We’ll have fun with it! And, to make sure that you all don’t pull another Push It incident on me, I’ll be performing with you guys. It’s either this way or no way before any of you object.”
Silence reigned throughout the room before Brittany looked up and asked, “Can I have a solo?”
“Of course Brittany.”
“I will also require a snake.”
“Um…we’ll talk about that later okay?”
Of course even with Mister Schue’s supervision, things still went up in flames with the help of Sue Sylvester, her paranoia over glee becoming popular, and a fire alarm being pulled.
However, Finn would never forget the true expression of joy that seemed to overtake his face as he performed. Even though it was Britney Spears in the gym at William McKinley High.
The song that night was still plaintive and sad, but there was a note of hope in it.
Baby steps were better than no steps.