Past, Present, and Future Tense (Episode 3.05) (2/2)
* * *
“Okay, who wants to show us what they're working on for the revue?” Will asked in glee the next day. Puck raised his hand.
“I asked the jazz band to set up for me,” he said.
“Okay,” Will nodded.
Puck walked to the front of the room and sat down at the piano.
“I wanted to sing a song from all the teen dads out there who actually love their kids,” he said. He looked over at Quinn. She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and glared at him. He glared right back before turning his attention to the piano keys.
“ Once there was a way to get back homeward.
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby.
Golden slumbers fill your eyes.
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby
Once there was a way to get back homeward.
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby.”
Puck managed to get to the end of the song without crying, but just barely. The rest of the club was visibly moved, as well.
Except for Santana. She was too busy keeping an eye on Quinn, who had gone from angry to infuriated, with tears streaming down her face. Before the glee club had a chance to applaud Puck, she stood up, shoved her chair so hard it flipped over, and ran out of the room.
“You shouldn't have done that,” Santana said, shaking her head.
“It's not my fault she's some sort of freaking Decepticon!” Puck defended himself. Lauren walked down to him and took his hand.
“Shouldn't somebody go after her?” Kurt asked. As everyone turned to look at him, he amended, “I didn't mean me.”
The collective gaze of the glee club turned to Brittany. “I'm not in a very good head space right now,” she said, frowning. “I don't think Quinn will appreciate how similar her life is to Lord Tubbington's.”
They all then turned to Santana. “I get that I'm the closest thing Quinn has to an actual friend right now,” Santana said, “but I made fun of her demon spawn on a near daily basis. I don't think I'm the right person for this.”
“I guess I could go,” Sam said. “I mean, she helped out with my brother and sister. We're kind of friends?”
Mercedes patted him on the arm. “Honey, no offense, but you weren't here for the Quinn Fabray Shame Spiral of Shame.” She steeled herself. “I think this one's mine.”
It didn't take Mercedes long to find Quinn. She was sitting in the nook by the trophy cases, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Mercedes took a seat next to her but didn't say anything. She waited for Quinn to start the conversation.
“What does it take?” she finally whispered.
“What?”
“What does it take?” Quinn said again. Her voice quavered with the effort of holding back her tears. “I tried everything. I rejoined the Cheerios twice. I dated football players. Ran for Homecoming Queen. Went to Nationals with glee. Erased every bit of my life that happened when I was pregnant. And I still can't see a little girl at the grocery store without thinking for a split second that it's her.” She wiped her eyes with her hand.
“Why's that such a bad thing?” Mercedes asked. Quinn just gaped at her.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No,” Mercedes said. “Why's that such a bad thing? Don't you think it's natural that you'd miss the baby you gave up for adoption?” Quinn looked at the ground. Mercedes leaned her body so she was still in Quinn's line of sight.
“Quinn, you try so hard not to feel bad that you don't feel anything at all.”
“That's not true,” Quinn snapped. The anger faded quickly though, and she added in a small voice, “I feel bad all the time.”
Mercedes put a hand on her shoulder. “Then maybe it's time you did something about that. You know that status isn't going to solve your problems, but you go after it anyway. Why is that?”
“It's what I know,” Quinn sniffled.
“Well, if what you know isn't working, then you've got to try something else. Is it scary? Hell yes. But that feeling you get when you do something scary? When it feels like you're free-falling? That's not fear, sweetie; it's freedom.”
Quinn looked up and covered Mercedes's hand with her own. “What do I do?” she asked, almost pleading. “I can't keep living like this, lashing out all the time.”
“It's a little out of my depth,” Mercedes admitted, “but I think you need to get your crazy ass down to Ms. Pillsbury's office. She's sometimes good at her job, you know.”
Quinn let out a snort of laughter. “I suppose that's true.” There was a beat. “You're too good to me,” she said. “I don't deserve your kindness. Not after how I dropped you as a--”
“Water under the bridge,” Mercedes interrupted, waving the thought away with her free hand. “And you do deserve kindness. Someday, you'll realize that.”
“For what it's worth,” Quinn said, “I think you and Sam are really good together. Way better than me and him would have been.”
“Thank you,” Mercedes said. “At least one good thing came out of your constant self-sabotage, huh?”
They laughed together, and Mercedes pulled Quinn in for a hug.
* * *
“Country music,” Sam said.
Will leaned forward in his chair, intrigued. “It's not a bad idea for us to expand our repertoire of styles. What did you have in mind?”
“Johnny Cash's 'Folsom Prison Blues.'”
“I--what?” Will asked.
“Think about it. Prison is, like, a metaphor for what it's like to be in high school. It's deep, Mr. Schue.”
“Um, yeah,” Will said. “That's . . . I'll let you know about that, okay?”
* * *
Tina sat on her bed with her back propped up against the head board. She was scanning through her i-Pod again, and it was going just about as well as it had been before.
Her mother knocked on the door frame. Allen was right behind her.
“Hey,” Tina said, taking out her ear buds. “What's up?”
“Allen thought it might be fun for all of us to go to Six Flags Friday night,” Mrs. Cohen-Chang said.
“I know it's a little late in the season,” he added, “but at least the lines will be short!”
“I can't,” Tina said. “I have a glee concert that night. And actually . . .” She took a depth breath and screwed up her courage. “. . . I was hoping you guys could come. You two and Dad.”
Mrs. Cohen-Chang looked conflicted. “I don't know, dear. I--”
“That sounds great!” Allen cut in.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Allen replied. He walked into Tina's room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I just wanted to have some family time, and I'd love to support my little sis.” He gave Tina a smile, and she shyly returned it.
“Well, okay, then.” Mrs. Cohen-Chang did not sound convinced. “I'll tell your father.” She left them alone.
“Tina--” Allen started to say apologetically, but Tina put up her hand to stop him.
“I know,” she said. “But it's not your fault. So don't worry about it, all right?”
“It's not all right. I could--”
“Allen,” she said flatly. “You know if we start talking about this I'm going to start crying, so can we not, please?”
Allen sighed and got up. “I'm looking forward to your concert,” he said when he reached the door.
“I'm glad you'll be there,” Tina replied.
* * *
Brittany stood at the front of the choir room behind a microphone. As the band started to play, she did a kicky little dance around the microphone stand before returning to it to sing.
“Times are far between, and few I bet,
when we can look upon our lives without regret.
Of all the things I have done,
you think I'm proud of every one
without exception?”
She chanced a brief glance at Santana, who sat in the audience with a look of steely determination not to react on her face. “'Til you make your peace with yesterday, you'll never build a future. I swear by what I say.”
Karofsky looked between the two of them a couple of times before something dawned on him. “Oh my God,” he whispered, “you two--”
“If you value your man-parts, you will not finish that sentence,” Santana hissed.
Brittany's attention was now back on the rest of the group. If they realized who the song was about, they didn't show it. There was a lot of enthusiastic chair-dancing going on, and Finn was trying his darnedest to copy Mike's moves. Apart from Santana, the only two who weren't getting into the performance were Quinn and Tina. They both sat and listened carefully to the lyrics, clearly contemplating them.
“However long it will take
to weather your mistakes,
why not accept it?
My hands, for now, are tied.
I'm a body frozen.
I'm a will that's paralyzed.
When will you ever set aside your pain and misery?
No matter how I beg,
no matter how I wish or plead,
you'll never be more than alive.
You'll never do more than survive
until you expect it.
Do you want to build a world with our lives?
You better soon decide
or you can forget it.
My hands, for now, are tied.
I'm a body frozen.
I'm a will that's paralyzed.
'Til you drop that heavy baggage you're dragging behind,
there won't be room for us to both go this ride.”
The club clapped and cheered for Brittany. Santana just looked around the room awkwardly to avoid the fact that Brittany's eyes kept darting back to her.
* * *
As the group left the choir room, Santana approached Brittany in the hall. “I need to talk to you,” she said, and she pulled Brittany down the hall a little bit, away from their classmates.
“Did you like my song?” Brittany asked. “It was about--”
“--me, yeah, I know,” Santana said, looking around for anyone who might be listening in. Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard, she continued. “Britt, I need to tell you something.”
“I'm all ears,” Brittany said. “Well, not all ears, because that would look funny, but--”
“I'm seeing someone,” Santana said. Brittany stopped mid-word, her mouth hanging open.
“What?”
“I'm seeing a girl. She doesn't live around here.” Santana studied the wall very intently to avoid the hurt look on Brittany's face.
“But . . . why?” Brittany said. “I thought--”
“I know,” Santana said. “And I'm not saying that I don't. But she lives near Dayton, and she's not pushing me to do anything, and . . . I think this is good for me. I think this is really good for me. Can you . . . Do you think you can be happy for me? As my friend?”
Brittany opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her jaw flexed like she was trying to make the words come, but she still couldn't speak. Santana's face turned from hopeful to angry.
“Fine,” she sneered. She turned to go.
“Santana, wait,” Brittany finally managed.
“What?” Santana said, turning back.
“I just don't understand. I thought you loved me . . .”
“If you're mad about this, you don't get to be,” Santana said. “Not after that B.S. with Artie.”
“That was different,” Brittany said.
“You loved two people, so can I.” Santana narrowed her eyes. “And the person I'm with right now doesn't make me feel like a total loser because I'm not out, so.” With an air of finality, she walked away.
Brittany's shoulders slumped. Behind her and down the hallway, Mike and Kurt stood watching.
“Damn,” Kurt muttered. Mike took a look to his right and saw Tina standing at her locker, paging through a stack of sheet music and looking forlorn.
“Switch?” Mike suggested. Kurt looked confused for a second, but he caught a glimpse of Tina and then he understood.
“Switch,” he agreed, and he and Mike headed in opposite directions.
Mike came upon Brittany first.
“Hey,” he said, putting an arm around her. “I've got play-list full of Michael Jackson and nothing to do right now. You wanna dance it out?”
Brittany nodded and leaned into Mike's chest as they started down the hallway.
“So,” Kurt said as he walked up to Tina, “here's what's going to happen: you're going to tell me everything, and I'm going to find you a Broadway song that sums up all of your feelings.” At Tina's incredulous look, he added, “Trust me, there's one for pretty much every situation you can think of.” He grabbed her hand and hooked it around his arm. “For example, if you've ever done acid while watching Sesame Street, Avenue Q is your perfect show!”
That, thankfully, got a laugh out of Tina.
* * *
It was the night of the show, and Quinn stood backstage, taking deep breaths. Kurt and Rachel had just finished their duet and were taking their bows. As the stage crew went out to reset the stage, Mercedes came up to Quinn and squeezed her hand.
“You're going to do great,” she whispered.
“I've never sung anything this personal for such a large audience before,” Quinn said. “And by myself, too.”
“And that's why you're going to kill it,” Mercedes said. “Because it's personal.” She gave Quinn a reassuring smile.
“Thank you,” Quinn smiled back.
“No problem. Now,” Mercedes said, looking at the stage, “are you going to go out there on your own, or do I have to push you out?”
Quinn rolled her eyes and swatted Mercedes affectionately on the arm, and then she stepped out onstage.
She made the walk to the microphone stand, adjusted it, and nodded to Brad at the piano. As the intro played, Puck appeared in the wings on the other side of the stage to watch.
“This used to be my playground.
This used to be my childhood dream.
This used to be the place I ran to
whenever I was in need
of a friend.
Why did it have to end?
And why do they always say . . .
Don't look back.
Keep your head held high.
Don't ask them why
because life is short
and before you know,
you're feeling old
and your heart is breaking.
Don't hold on to the past.
Well, that's too much to ask.
No regrets,
but I wish that you
were here with me.
Well, then there's hope yet.
I can see your face
in our secret place.
You're not just a memory.
Say goodbye to yesterday.
Those are words I'll never say .
This used to be our playground.
This used to be our childhood dream.
This used to be the place we ran to.
I wish you were standing here with me.”
Quinn ended the song with tears in her eyes. She acknowledged the applause with a slight curtsy, and walked quickly offstage. She almost flew right past Puck, but he grabbed her arm.
“Quinn,” he said. He looked like he had been crying.
“Puck.” She stopped. They looked at each other for a little bit, neither one really knowing what to say about all the things that had happened between them.
“That was really good,” Puck finally said. “Like, really, really good.”
Quinn smiled a little. “Between our genes and Shelby raising her, Beth is going to be a music superstar some day. Rachel will flip.”
Puck grinned at that. “I've still got those pictures, you know,” he said. “If you want to see them.”
Quinn shook her head. “Someday, maybe. But not yet. It's still too soon.” She paused. “I thought I'd be able to leave her behind. But it doesn't work like that, does it? At least, not for me.”
“I could've told you that,” Puck said.
“What do you mean?”
He reached over and pointed at her heart, his index finger hovering just above the fabric of her dress. “You've got a lot going on in there that you're too afraid to let people see. That's part of the reason I liked you so much.” He smirked a little. “I'm not just talking about your boobs, either.”
Quinn made a disgusted noise and pushed his hand away, but she was laughing while she did it.
“Just promise me something, okay?” Puck said.
“If this is about my boobs, I will hurt you.”
Puck rolled his eyes. “No. Just . . . promise me we're never going to lose touch. Like, we'll always be Facebook friends or something. Y'know, for when you change your mind about Beth.”
Quinn nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Puck looked a little conflicted, but then he committed and pulled Quinn into a completely platonic hug. After a moment's hesitation, she hugged him back.
“If it helps,” he whispered, “I think we made the right choice about Beth.”
“Thank you,” was all Quinn managed to say in response.
* * *
The Cohen-Changs filed into an open row of seats.
“I really wish we could have gotten here on time,” Allen muttered.
“I'm sorry my meeting ran late . . .” Mr. Cohen-Chang began, but he stopped when the stage lights went up. “Is that Tina?”
It was. Tina, dressed all in white, stood in the middle of the stage, no microphone, looking ready to belt Broadway-style. Kurt stood off to the side and behind her a bit. He wore plain jeans and a red pair of Converse, along with a bright blue, unbuttoned dress shirt over a red t-shirt.
The reason for the costumes soon became obvious.
“ Superboy and the Invisible Girl,” Tina sang.
“Son of Steel and Daughter of Air.
He’s a hero, a lover, a prince,
she’s not there.
Superboy and the Invisible Girl,
everything a kid oughtta be.
He’s immortal, forever alive,
then there’s me.
I wish I could fly,
and magically appear and disappear.
I wish I could fly.
I’d fly far away from here.
Superboy and the Invisible Girl
He’s the one you wish would appear.
He’s your hero, forever your son,
he’s not here.
I am here.”
She broke from the original song and changed the mother's lines to make them from the perspective of the daughter.
“You say that's not true,
that I'm your little pride and joy,
your perfect plan.
You say, 'I love you.'
Yeah, you love me as much as you can.”
In the audience, Tina's father looked stricken, while her mother covered her mouth, out of shock and horror and the weight of years of retroactive guilt suddenly hitting her all at once.
“Take a look at the Invisible Girl.
Here she is, clear as the day.
Please look closely and find her before she fades away.”
Kurt stepped around her now and turned so his body was profile to the audience, while Tina sang facing them head-on. It made Kurt look like he was singing at her, mocking her with her own words while they harmonized.
“Superboy and the Invisible Girl,
Son of Steel and Daughter of Air.
He’s a hero, a lover, a prince,
she’s not there.
She's not there.
She's not there.
She's not there.”
* * *
Kurt and Tina burst into the hallway, hugging each other.
“God, you were amazing,” he gushed.
“Thank you so much for finding me that song,” Tina said back, gripping him tightly. “It was perfect. Really perfect.”
Suddenly, Mike came running down the hall. “I watched from the back of the auditorium,” he panted. He picked Tina up and twirled her around. “You are the most beautiful, most talented girl in the world, and I love you so much.” He put her down and gave her a peck on the lips. “Also, your parents are coming.”
“My what?” Tina pulled away from him in surprise, just as her family turned the corner.
“Tina!” her mother called, and she rushed forward to give Tina a hug. Kurt and Mike looked at each other awkwardly, and they retreated to the choir room to give the family time to talk.
“Mom,” Tina tried to say, but her voice was muffled by how hard her mother was hugging her.
“I'm so, so sorry,” Mrs. Cohen-Chang said. “I never realized. I never noticed. But you,” she released her grip and looked her daughter in the eye, “you were brilliant out there, and I have no excuse for not knowing that.”
“Mom,” Tina said again, “this doesn't magically fix things.”
“I know. But I want to try.”
“We want to try,” Tina's father put in.
“So we're going to go back and watch the rest of the show now,” Mrs. Cohen-Chang said, “and when we get home, we're all going to have a long talk about this, okay?”
“Okay,” Tina said, and she reached out to give her mother another hug.
* * *
Back in the auditorium, Will sat down in an open seat next to Emma. She looked up from her program.
“Going to watch the last number from the audience?” Emma asked.
“I thought I might,” Will said.
“How'd you decide on what to do, anyway? It didn't sound like you were getting many workable ideas.”
“I finally heard one that sounded exactly right.” Will smiled as he thought about the conversation.
“Mr. Schue?” Mike said from Will's office door. “I have an idea for the revue.”
“Come on in, Mike,” Will said, his exasperation from the previous conversations apparent in his voice. Mike sat down.
“What's up?” Will asked.
It took a second for Mike to answer. “I'm pretty quiet,” he said, “so I spend a lot of time watching people. And the thing I've noticed, not just this week, but really every week, is that no one in this club would be able to survive without music. It's how we express ourselves, it's how we make sense of the world, and it's how we deal with our emotions. So, I think the song we do should be about that. Because I think that's the one truth we all have in common, and the one thing we should celebrate.”
Mike's speech was making Will a little teary. “Do you have a particular song in mind?” he asked.
“I do,” Mike said.
The curtain went up while the hi-hat and bass introduction played, revealing the glee club all dressed in primary colors. Mercedes and Rachel stood in the middle, on either side of Artie.
“Ain't got no trouble in my life,” Mercedes sang. “No foolish dream to make me cry.”
Rachel took the next two lines. “I'm never frightened or worried. I know I'll always get by.”
“I heat up.” It was Artie's turn. “I cool down. When something gets in my way I go round it.”
The vocals went back to Rachel. “Don't let life get me down. Gonna take it the way that I found it.”
The whole group sang the chorus together, with Mercedes's voice leading them.
“I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.”
“They say that life is a circle,” Quinn sang, “but that ain't the way that I've found it.”
“Gonna move in a straight line.” Now the vocals went to Tina. “Keeping my feet firmly on the ground.”
Puck performed his lines with his typical sex appeal. “I heat up. I cool down. I got words in my head so I say them.”
Tina sang again. “Don't let life get me down. Catch a hold of my blues and just play them.”
Then it was back to the chorus.
“I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.”
At the bridge, the choreography highlighted Mike and Brittany, who did a routine so complex, it rivaled “Valerie.”
“Feel funky,” Mercedes wailed. “Feel good. Gonna tell ya, I'm in the neighborhood.”
Rachel belted the next part. “Gonna fly like a bird on the wing. Hold on to your hat, honey.”
They diva-ed out together. “Sing, sing, sing, sing!”
“Heat up, cool down,” Artie sang. “I got words in my head so I say them.”
“Don't let life get me down,” Tina added. “Catch a hold of my blues and just play them.”
“I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.”
The band gave a strong downbeat, and then there was silence.
“I got the music,” Mercedes sang.
There was another downbeat.
“Pretty music,” Rachel riffed.
Mercedes brought the song home. “I got the music in me.” She did runs while the other singers sustained their background notes, and then the whole thing ended on a monster cymbal crash.
The crowed erupted, and Will and Emma were the first people on their feet for the standing ovation.
“Okay, who wants to show us what they're working on for the revue?” Will asked in glee the next day. Puck raised his hand.
“I asked the jazz band to set up for me,” he said.
“Okay,” Will nodded.
Puck walked to the front of the room and sat down at the piano.
“I wanted to sing a song from all the teen dads out there who actually love their kids,” he said. He looked over at Quinn. She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and glared at him. He glared right back before turning his attention to the piano keys.
“ Once there was a way to get back homeward.
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby.
Golden slumbers fill your eyes.
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby
Once there was a way to get back homeward.
Once there was a way to get back home.
Sleep pretty darling do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby.”
Puck managed to get to the end of the song without crying, but just barely. The rest of the club was visibly moved, as well.
Except for Santana. She was too busy keeping an eye on Quinn, who had gone from angry to infuriated, with tears streaming down her face. Before the glee club had a chance to applaud Puck, she stood up, shoved her chair so hard it flipped over, and ran out of the room.
“You shouldn't have done that,” Santana said, shaking her head.
“It's not my fault she's some sort of freaking Decepticon!” Puck defended himself. Lauren walked down to him and took his hand.
“Shouldn't somebody go after her?” Kurt asked. As everyone turned to look at him, he amended, “I didn't mean me.”
The collective gaze of the glee club turned to Brittany. “I'm not in a very good head space right now,” she said, frowning. “I don't think Quinn will appreciate how similar her life is to Lord Tubbington's.”
They all then turned to Santana. “I get that I'm the closest thing Quinn has to an actual friend right now,” Santana said, “but I made fun of her demon spawn on a near daily basis. I don't think I'm the right person for this.”
“I guess I could go,” Sam said. “I mean, she helped out with my brother and sister. We're kind of friends?”
Mercedes patted him on the arm. “Honey, no offense, but you weren't here for the Quinn Fabray Shame Spiral of Shame.” She steeled herself. “I think this one's mine.”
It didn't take Mercedes long to find Quinn. She was sitting in the nook by the trophy cases, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Mercedes took a seat next to her but didn't say anything. She waited for Quinn to start the conversation.
“What does it take?” she finally whispered.
“What?”
“What does it take?” Quinn said again. Her voice quavered with the effort of holding back her tears. “I tried everything. I rejoined the Cheerios twice. I dated football players. Ran for Homecoming Queen. Went to Nationals with glee. Erased every bit of my life that happened when I was pregnant. And I still can't see a little girl at the grocery store without thinking for a split second that it's her.” She wiped her eyes with her hand.
“Why's that such a bad thing?” Mercedes asked. Quinn just gaped at her.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No,” Mercedes said. “Why's that such a bad thing? Don't you think it's natural that you'd miss the baby you gave up for adoption?” Quinn looked at the ground. Mercedes leaned her body so she was still in Quinn's line of sight.
“Quinn, you try so hard not to feel bad that you don't feel anything at all.”
“That's not true,” Quinn snapped. The anger faded quickly though, and she added in a small voice, “I feel bad all the time.”
Mercedes put a hand on her shoulder. “Then maybe it's time you did something about that. You know that status isn't going to solve your problems, but you go after it anyway. Why is that?”
“It's what I know,” Quinn sniffled.
“Well, if what you know isn't working, then you've got to try something else. Is it scary? Hell yes. But that feeling you get when you do something scary? When it feels like you're free-falling? That's not fear, sweetie; it's freedom.”
Quinn looked up and covered Mercedes's hand with her own. “What do I do?” she asked, almost pleading. “I can't keep living like this, lashing out all the time.”
“It's a little out of my depth,” Mercedes admitted, “but I think you need to get your crazy ass down to Ms. Pillsbury's office. She's sometimes good at her job, you know.”
Quinn let out a snort of laughter. “I suppose that's true.” There was a beat. “You're too good to me,” she said. “I don't deserve your kindness. Not after how I dropped you as a--”
“Water under the bridge,” Mercedes interrupted, waving the thought away with her free hand. “And you do deserve kindness. Someday, you'll realize that.”
“For what it's worth,” Quinn said, “I think you and Sam are really good together. Way better than me and him would have been.”
“Thank you,” Mercedes said. “At least one good thing came out of your constant self-sabotage, huh?”
They laughed together, and Mercedes pulled Quinn in for a hug.
* * *
“Country music,” Sam said.
Will leaned forward in his chair, intrigued. “It's not a bad idea for us to expand our repertoire of styles. What did you have in mind?”
“Johnny Cash's 'Folsom Prison Blues.'”
“I--what?” Will asked.
“Think about it. Prison is, like, a metaphor for what it's like to be in high school. It's deep, Mr. Schue.”
“Um, yeah,” Will said. “That's . . . I'll let you know about that, okay?”
* * *
Tina sat on her bed with her back propped up against the head board. She was scanning through her i-Pod again, and it was going just about as well as it had been before.
Her mother knocked on the door frame. Allen was right behind her.
“Hey,” Tina said, taking out her ear buds. “What's up?”
“Allen thought it might be fun for all of us to go to Six Flags Friday night,” Mrs. Cohen-Chang said.
“I know it's a little late in the season,” he added, “but at least the lines will be short!”
“I can't,” Tina said. “I have a glee concert that night. And actually . . .” She took a depth breath and screwed up her courage. “. . . I was hoping you guys could come. You two and Dad.”
Mrs. Cohen-Chang looked conflicted. “I don't know, dear. I--”
“That sounds great!” Allen cut in.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Allen replied. He walked into Tina's room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I just wanted to have some family time, and I'd love to support my little sis.” He gave Tina a smile, and she shyly returned it.
“Well, okay, then.” Mrs. Cohen-Chang did not sound convinced. “I'll tell your father.” She left them alone.
“Tina--” Allen started to say apologetically, but Tina put up her hand to stop him.
“I know,” she said. “But it's not your fault. So don't worry about it, all right?”
“It's not all right. I could--”
“Allen,” she said flatly. “You know if we start talking about this I'm going to start crying, so can we not, please?”
Allen sighed and got up. “I'm looking forward to your concert,” he said when he reached the door.
“I'm glad you'll be there,” Tina replied.
* * *
Brittany stood at the front of the choir room behind a microphone. As the band started to play, she did a kicky little dance around the microphone stand before returning to it to sing.
“Times are far between, and few I bet,
when we can look upon our lives without regret.
Of all the things I have done,
you think I'm proud of every one
without exception?”
She chanced a brief glance at Santana, who sat in the audience with a look of steely determination not to react on her face. “'Til you make your peace with yesterday, you'll never build a future. I swear by what I say.”
Karofsky looked between the two of them a couple of times before something dawned on him. “Oh my God,” he whispered, “you two--”
“If you value your man-parts, you will not finish that sentence,” Santana hissed.
Brittany's attention was now back on the rest of the group. If they realized who the song was about, they didn't show it. There was a lot of enthusiastic chair-dancing going on, and Finn was trying his darnedest to copy Mike's moves. Apart from Santana, the only two who weren't getting into the performance were Quinn and Tina. They both sat and listened carefully to the lyrics, clearly contemplating them.
“However long it will take
to weather your mistakes,
why not accept it?
My hands, for now, are tied.
I'm a body frozen.
I'm a will that's paralyzed.
When will you ever set aside your pain and misery?
No matter how I beg,
no matter how I wish or plead,
you'll never be more than alive.
You'll never do more than survive
until you expect it.
Do you want to build a world with our lives?
You better soon decide
or you can forget it.
My hands, for now, are tied.
I'm a body frozen.
I'm a will that's paralyzed.
'Til you drop that heavy baggage you're dragging behind,
there won't be room for us to both go this ride.”
The club clapped and cheered for Brittany. Santana just looked around the room awkwardly to avoid the fact that Brittany's eyes kept darting back to her.
* * *
As the group left the choir room, Santana approached Brittany in the hall. “I need to talk to you,” she said, and she pulled Brittany down the hall a little bit, away from their classmates.
“Did you like my song?” Brittany asked. “It was about--”
“--me, yeah, I know,” Santana said, looking around for anyone who might be listening in. Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard, she continued. “Britt, I need to tell you something.”
“I'm all ears,” Brittany said. “Well, not all ears, because that would look funny, but--”
“I'm seeing someone,” Santana said. Brittany stopped mid-word, her mouth hanging open.
“What?”
“I'm seeing a girl. She doesn't live around here.” Santana studied the wall very intently to avoid the hurt look on Brittany's face.
“But . . . why?” Brittany said. “I thought--”
“I know,” Santana said. “And I'm not saying that I don't. But she lives near Dayton, and she's not pushing me to do anything, and . . . I think this is good for me. I think this is really good for me. Can you . . . Do you think you can be happy for me? As my friend?”
Brittany opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her jaw flexed like she was trying to make the words come, but she still couldn't speak. Santana's face turned from hopeful to angry.
“Fine,” she sneered. She turned to go.
“Santana, wait,” Brittany finally managed.
“What?” Santana said, turning back.
“I just don't understand. I thought you loved me . . .”
“If you're mad about this, you don't get to be,” Santana said. “Not after that B.S. with Artie.”
“That was different,” Brittany said.
“You loved two people, so can I.” Santana narrowed her eyes. “And the person I'm with right now doesn't make me feel like a total loser because I'm not out, so.” With an air of finality, she walked away.
Brittany's shoulders slumped. Behind her and down the hallway, Mike and Kurt stood watching.
“Damn,” Kurt muttered. Mike took a look to his right and saw Tina standing at her locker, paging through a stack of sheet music and looking forlorn.
“Switch?” Mike suggested. Kurt looked confused for a second, but he caught a glimpse of Tina and then he understood.
“Switch,” he agreed, and he and Mike headed in opposite directions.
Mike came upon Brittany first.
“Hey,” he said, putting an arm around her. “I've got play-list full of Michael Jackson and nothing to do right now. You wanna dance it out?”
Brittany nodded and leaned into Mike's chest as they started down the hallway.
“So,” Kurt said as he walked up to Tina, “here's what's going to happen: you're going to tell me everything, and I'm going to find you a Broadway song that sums up all of your feelings.” At Tina's incredulous look, he added, “Trust me, there's one for pretty much every situation you can think of.” He grabbed her hand and hooked it around his arm. “For example, if you've ever done acid while watching Sesame Street, Avenue Q is your perfect show!”
That, thankfully, got a laugh out of Tina.
* * *
It was the night of the show, and Quinn stood backstage, taking deep breaths. Kurt and Rachel had just finished their duet and were taking their bows. As the stage crew went out to reset the stage, Mercedes came up to Quinn and squeezed her hand.
“You're going to do great,” she whispered.
“I've never sung anything this personal for such a large audience before,” Quinn said. “And by myself, too.”
“And that's why you're going to kill it,” Mercedes said. “Because it's personal.” She gave Quinn a reassuring smile.
“Thank you,” Quinn smiled back.
“No problem. Now,” Mercedes said, looking at the stage, “are you going to go out there on your own, or do I have to push you out?”
Quinn rolled her eyes and swatted Mercedes affectionately on the arm, and then she stepped out onstage.
She made the walk to the microphone stand, adjusted it, and nodded to Brad at the piano. As the intro played, Puck appeared in the wings on the other side of the stage to watch.
“This used to be my playground.
This used to be my childhood dream.
This used to be the place I ran to
whenever I was in need
of a friend.
Why did it have to end?
And why do they always say . . .
Don't look back.
Keep your head held high.
Don't ask them why
because life is short
and before you know,
you're feeling old
and your heart is breaking.
Don't hold on to the past.
Well, that's too much to ask.
No regrets,
but I wish that you
were here with me.
Well, then there's hope yet.
I can see your face
in our secret place.
You're not just a memory.
Say goodbye to yesterday.
Those are words I'll never say .
This used to be our playground.
This used to be our childhood dream.
This used to be the place we ran to.
I wish you were standing here with me.”
Quinn ended the song with tears in her eyes. She acknowledged the applause with a slight curtsy, and walked quickly offstage. She almost flew right past Puck, but he grabbed her arm.
“Quinn,” he said. He looked like he had been crying.
“Puck.” She stopped. They looked at each other for a little bit, neither one really knowing what to say about all the things that had happened between them.
“That was really good,” Puck finally said. “Like, really, really good.”
Quinn smiled a little. “Between our genes and Shelby raising her, Beth is going to be a music superstar some day. Rachel will flip.”
Puck grinned at that. “I've still got those pictures, you know,” he said. “If you want to see them.”
Quinn shook her head. “Someday, maybe. But not yet. It's still too soon.” She paused. “I thought I'd be able to leave her behind. But it doesn't work like that, does it? At least, not for me.”
“I could've told you that,” Puck said.
“What do you mean?”
He reached over and pointed at her heart, his index finger hovering just above the fabric of her dress. “You've got a lot going on in there that you're too afraid to let people see. That's part of the reason I liked you so much.” He smirked a little. “I'm not just talking about your boobs, either.”
Quinn made a disgusted noise and pushed his hand away, but she was laughing while she did it.
“Just promise me something, okay?” Puck said.
“If this is about my boobs, I will hurt you.”
Puck rolled his eyes. “No. Just . . . promise me we're never going to lose touch. Like, we'll always be Facebook friends or something. Y'know, for when you change your mind about Beth.”
Quinn nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”
Puck looked a little conflicted, but then he committed and pulled Quinn into a completely platonic hug. After a moment's hesitation, she hugged him back.
“If it helps,” he whispered, “I think we made the right choice about Beth.”
“Thank you,” was all Quinn managed to say in response.
* * *
The Cohen-Changs filed into an open row of seats.
“I really wish we could have gotten here on time,” Allen muttered.
“I'm sorry my meeting ran late . . .” Mr. Cohen-Chang began, but he stopped when the stage lights went up. “Is that Tina?”
It was. Tina, dressed all in white, stood in the middle of the stage, no microphone, looking ready to belt Broadway-style. Kurt stood off to the side and behind her a bit. He wore plain jeans and a red pair of Converse, along with a bright blue, unbuttoned dress shirt over a red t-shirt.
The reason for the costumes soon became obvious.
“ Superboy and the Invisible Girl,” Tina sang.
“Son of Steel and Daughter of Air.
He’s a hero, a lover, a prince,
she’s not there.
Superboy and the Invisible Girl,
everything a kid oughtta be.
He’s immortal, forever alive,
then there’s me.
I wish I could fly,
and magically appear and disappear.
I wish I could fly.
I’d fly far away from here.
Superboy and the Invisible Girl
He’s the one you wish would appear.
He’s your hero, forever your son,
he’s not here.
I am here.”
She broke from the original song and changed the mother's lines to make them from the perspective of the daughter.
“You say that's not true,
that I'm your little pride and joy,
your perfect plan.
You say, 'I love you.'
Yeah, you love me as much as you can.”
In the audience, Tina's father looked stricken, while her mother covered her mouth, out of shock and horror and the weight of years of retroactive guilt suddenly hitting her all at once.
“Take a look at the Invisible Girl.
Here she is, clear as the day.
Please look closely and find her before she fades away.”
Kurt stepped around her now and turned so his body was profile to the audience, while Tina sang facing them head-on. It made Kurt look like he was singing at her, mocking her with her own words while they harmonized.
“Superboy and the Invisible Girl,
Son of Steel and Daughter of Air.
He’s a hero, a lover, a prince,
she’s not there.
She's not there.
She's not there.
She's not there.”
* * *
Kurt and Tina burst into the hallway, hugging each other.
“God, you were amazing,” he gushed.
“Thank you so much for finding me that song,” Tina said back, gripping him tightly. “It was perfect. Really perfect.”
Suddenly, Mike came running down the hall. “I watched from the back of the auditorium,” he panted. He picked Tina up and twirled her around. “You are the most beautiful, most talented girl in the world, and I love you so much.” He put her down and gave her a peck on the lips. “Also, your parents are coming.”
“My what?” Tina pulled away from him in surprise, just as her family turned the corner.
“Tina!” her mother called, and she rushed forward to give Tina a hug. Kurt and Mike looked at each other awkwardly, and they retreated to the choir room to give the family time to talk.
“Mom,” Tina tried to say, but her voice was muffled by how hard her mother was hugging her.
“I'm so, so sorry,” Mrs. Cohen-Chang said. “I never realized. I never noticed. But you,” she released her grip and looked her daughter in the eye, “you were brilliant out there, and I have no excuse for not knowing that.”
“Mom,” Tina said again, “this doesn't magically fix things.”
“I know. But I want to try.”
“We want to try,” Tina's father put in.
“So we're going to go back and watch the rest of the show now,” Mrs. Cohen-Chang said, “and when we get home, we're all going to have a long talk about this, okay?”
“Okay,” Tina said, and she reached out to give her mother another hug.
* * *
Back in the auditorium, Will sat down in an open seat next to Emma. She looked up from her program.
“Going to watch the last number from the audience?” Emma asked.
“I thought I might,” Will said.
“How'd you decide on what to do, anyway? It didn't sound like you were getting many workable ideas.”
“I finally heard one that sounded exactly right.” Will smiled as he thought about the conversation.
“Mr. Schue?” Mike said from Will's office door. “I have an idea for the revue.”
“Come on in, Mike,” Will said, his exasperation from the previous conversations apparent in his voice. Mike sat down.
“What's up?” Will asked.
It took a second for Mike to answer. “I'm pretty quiet,” he said, “so I spend a lot of time watching people. And the thing I've noticed, not just this week, but really every week, is that no one in this club would be able to survive without music. It's how we express ourselves, it's how we make sense of the world, and it's how we deal with our emotions. So, I think the song we do should be about that. Because I think that's the one truth we all have in common, and the one thing we should celebrate.”
Mike's speech was making Will a little teary. “Do you have a particular song in mind?” he asked.
“I do,” Mike said.
The curtain went up while the hi-hat and bass introduction played, revealing the glee club all dressed in primary colors. Mercedes and Rachel stood in the middle, on either side of Artie.
“Ain't got no trouble in my life,” Mercedes sang. “No foolish dream to make me cry.”
Rachel took the next two lines. “I'm never frightened or worried. I know I'll always get by.”
“I heat up.” It was Artie's turn. “I cool down. When something gets in my way I go round it.”
The vocals went back to Rachel. “Don't let life get me down. Gonna take it the way that I found it.”
The whole group sang the chorus together, with Mercedes's voice leading them.
“I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.”
“They say that life is a circle,” Quinn sang, “but that ain't the way that I've found it.”
“Gonna move in a straight line.” Now the vocals went to Tina. “Keeping my feet firmly on the ground.”
Puck performed his lines with his typical sex appeal. “I heat up. I cool down. I got words in my head so I say them.”
Tina sang again. “Don't let life get me down. Catch a hold of my blues and just play them.”
Then it was back to the chorus.
“I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.”
At the bridge, the choreography highlighted Mike and Brittany, who did a routine so complex, it rivaled “Valerie.”
“Feel funky,” Mercedes wailed. “Feel good. Gonna tell ya, I'm in the neighborhood.”
Rachel belted the next part. “Gonna fly like a bird on the wing. Hold on to your hat, honey.”
They diva-ed out together. “Sing, sing, sing, sing!”
“Heat up, cool down,” Artie sang. “I got words in my head so I say them.”
“Don't let life get me down,” Tina added. “Catch a hold of my blues and just play them.”
“I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.
I got the music in me.”
The band gave a strong downbeat, and then there was silence.
“I got the music,” Mercedes sang.
There was another downbeat.
“Pretty music,” Rachel riffed.
Mercedes brought the song home. “I got the music in me.” She did runs while the other singers sustained their background notes, and then the whole thing ended on a monster cymbal crash.
The crowed erupted, and Will and Emma were the first people on their feet for the standing ovation.