One Last Chance (Episode 3.10) (1/2)
Title: One Last Chance (3.10)
Author: lennoxave
Pairing,Character(s): Ensemble, emphasis on Kurt, Karofsky, Finn, Will, Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~9,000
Warnings: There's a lot of Karofsky in this. So, y'know, discussion of all the things that could go along with that.
Spoilers: Through 2.22 "New York" NO SEASON 3 SPOILERS. On the off-chance that something on the show ends up at all like anything that ends up in this series, it's completely coincidental.
Summary: Now that Karofsky's come out of the closet, things have gotten a whole lot more complicated for the members of New Directions. And just in time to face the Warblers at Sectionals, too.
Author's Note: This is written like it's an episode of the show, so I mostly deal with outward reactions, rather than the characters inner thoughts and feelings. Part of my Fantasy Season 3 series.
Episode 1: Magic Kingdom
Episode 2: What You Want
Episode 5: Past, Present, and Future Tense
Episode 7: Comfort Zone
Episode 9: Out
So, here's what you missed on Glee: Everybody's out of the closet, there are some new kids in glee club, and if New Directions wins Nationals this year, they'll get funding forever. Some other stuff happened, but you should probably just read the other chapters if you want to find out.
. . . And that's what you missed, on Glee!
One Last Chance (3.10)
“I can't believe it,” Finn said, staring at his coffee. “I just can't believe it.”
The thirteen veteran members of New Directions sat around a table at the Lima Bean. They were all in various stages of shock and disbelief.
“What, because a jock guy like Karofsky couldn't possibly be gay?” Santana snarked.
“No,” Finn shook his head. “Because how could you be such a douche to people about something that you actually are?”
Santana caught Kurt's eye from across the table and cleared her throat uncomfortably. “It's easier than you'd think,” she said seriously. She immediately flipped back to bitch mode. “I'd try to explain it to you, but I don't think your tiny Neanderthal brain could comprehend it.”
“San . . .” Brittany started, but Rachel cut in.
“Look,” she said. “I know this puts us all in a very strange position. All of us have been victims of Karofsky's bullying--some of us more than others,” she added when Mercedes looked ready to jump in on Kurt's behalf, “--but he needs our support right now. We're some of the few people he knows who are okay with his sexuality.”
“That doesn't mean I'm okay with him,” Mercedes muttered. Kurt patted her hand.
“I felt isolated even when I was surrounded by friends who I knew accepted me,” he said. “Can you imagine what it must be like for him?”
“You say that like it excuses everything he's done. He made you transfer, Kurt.”
“But he's not the same person he was then. He's changed. He's learned. I'm not going to sit here and say I forgive him for everything, but I can recognize that he had bigger issues going on and I'm not going to hate him forever because of it. And he needs our help. He doesn't have a support system.”
“The way I see it,” Puck said, “is Karofsky hasn't pulled anything since last year. That seems like change to me.”
“Me, too,” Finn said.
Tina sighed. “I don't love it, either, but I think, given the circumstances, we should maybe give the guy a second chance.”
The others nodded in agreement. Mercedes groaned.
“Fine,” she said. “I'm on board the Helping Karofsky Express. I don't have to like it, though.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Kurt said, and he leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“So, we're all in agreement?” Rachel said.
“Yes, god, haven't you been paying attention?” Santana asked. “Do you want us to do a secret ballot or something?”
“Wait,” Sam cut in. “Is this what you guys did when you thought I was getting it on with Kurt and Quinn?”
Everyone traded awkward glances. Kurt looked vaguely mortified.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“We need to not have any more group meetings about people's personal lives,” Sam said as they all started to get up. “It's a little creepy.”
“Word,” Artie replied.
The crowd began to break up, and Santana took advantage of Mercedes saying goodbye to Sam to pull Kurt aside.
“You didn't tell them that you knew,” she said.
Kurt looked surprised. “How . . .” he stuttered. “How did you know I knew?”
“Dave got jacked on Four Lokos one night and called me,” Santana shrugged. “He wasn't exactly in the best state of mind, so he told me about the stupid thing he almost did.”
Kurt's eyes narrowed at her use of the word “almost.” “Well, I didn't think it was worth bringing up,” he said. “This is a hard enough sell as it is, and I don't want people to freak out over nothing, as they are so prone to do. So, can we keep this between us? For Dave's sake?”
“For Dave's sake,” Santana agreed.
* * *
The next day in glee, Karofsky took his usual seat by himself in the back row. However, he was soon joined by Puck.
“'Sup?” Puck said, sitting down next to him.
“. . . Hey,” Karofsky said, a bit perplexed.
On his other side, Sam sat down. “Yo,” he said in greeting.
Karofsky looked between them. “What exactly--”
“We're being supportive,” Sam said. “We know you're having a rough go of it, and you're not so bad when you're not being a jackass whose face I want to punch in, so . . . y'know.”
“We somehow became friends,” Puck added. “And we don't leave our friends behind.”
“We're friends just because I'm in glee?” Karofsky asked.
Puck shrugged. “That's maybe why we're friends, but . . . I think we might just be friends. Period.”
Karofsky smiled gratefully. “Did you catch the fight last night?”
“Dude,” Puck said, “boxing is weak. Gloves? Seriously? UFC's where it's at.” He looked at Karofsky and smirked a little. “Plus, buff shirtless dudes rolling around on the ground with each other, which I guess some people are into.” His tone was teasing, but in friendly way.
Lauren leaned over him and added, “Lord knows that's why I watch it. If you need tips on which bout's gonna have the hottest guys, you just let me know.”
Karofsky chuckled in disbelief. “Uh, thanks.”
“Everyone!” Rachel announced as she and Finn walked into the choir room. “Finn and I skipped last period--”
“--to make out in a broom closet? Really, Rachel, I don't need to know your life,” Santana cut in.
“--to finish writing our song, Santana, and I must tell you, it might be the best thing that anyone's ever written.”
“Ever,” Finn nodded.
“All right, Sonny and Cher,” Mercedes rolled her eyes, “let's hear it.”
Finn and Rachel were just turning to the jazz band when Will walked in.
“Bad news, guys,” he said. “We're not allowed to do original songs in competition this year.”
“What?” Rachel practically shrieked.
Will flashed back to his conversation with Sue in the teacher's lounge.
“I can't believe you would do this to us!” he yelled at her.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Will, I spent two years of my life trying to ruin yours. You're gonna have to be more specific, buddy.”
He slammed the Official 2011-2012 Show Choir Rules binder on the table in front of her. “Rule 168 states that no show choir may perform an original song penned by its members. And when I called the board to complain, they informed me that you had threatened them until they changed the rule. I thought we were done with this.”
Sue shook her head and smiled condescendingly at him. “William, William, William,” she said. “We are done with this. I lobbied the show choir board ages ago. When I lost Regionals, after I punched out that woman whose title I can't be bothered to remember, I was drinking rubbing alcohol to dull the ache in my hand--I don't believe in pain medication, it makes you weak--and I had the excellent idea of emailing the board pictures of myself holding increasingly larger knives until they banned original songs from their competitions, since that must have been what convinced them to vote for your group and not mine. They, of course, complied, and that's why that rule is in place. It has nothing to do with where we are now.”
“But when you decided to stop sabotaging us,” Will said, “why didn't you tell them to change their minds?”
Sue grabbed her coffee mug and stood up. “Because,” she smirked, “I Youtubed your performance at Nationals. I realized I had done you a favor.”
“Wait, this is Sue's fault?” Quinn asked, Will having just offered them the explanation.
“Oh, that woman,” Mercedes grumbled.
“This is crazy!” Puck said.
“They can't do this to us the week of competition!” Tina exclaimed.
“So, you just checked the rulebook today?” Santana pointed out. Everyone turned to look at her. “What, I say the obvious thing and suddenly I'm the bitch?”
“'Suddenly'?” Lauren mused.
“That's enough, guys,” Will said. “Arguing about it's not going to change anything. The most important thing writing original songs taught us was that we work best as a team. We need to come up with a plan. Together.”
Sam spoke up first. “It's recently come to my attention that one Ms. Mercedes Jones has never had a solo in competition.” He grinned at his girlfriend. “I think we need to fix that.”
“Normally I would shocked and appalled that I wasn't the first one considered for a solo,” Rachel said, “but since we're talking about Mercedes . . . motion seconded.”
“Thirded,” Kurt piped in.
“Okay,” Will said. “All those in favor of the motion of the gentleman from Tennessee, say, 'aye.'”
“Aye!” the glee club chorused.
Will smiled. “The ayes have it. Mercedes will be singing our ballad.”
“Um, Mr. Schue?” Mike ventured. “Tina's never had a featured solo in a competition, either, and I think she totally deserves one.”
“Preach,” Artie said, while Tina reached over and squeezed Mike's hand.
“You're absolutely right,” Will said. “Tina, would you be comfortable singing a solo?”
“It's been two years since 'Tonight,' Mr. Schuester,” Tina said. “I've grown.”
“Wait, so I don't get any solos?” Rachel wondered aloud. Kurt leaned over and whispered to her.
“Sweetie, in nine months you're going to be at some ridiculously prestigious music school preparing for a life spent on Broadway. Give somebody else a chance this one time, okay? Our girls aren't going to let us down.”
“I suppose,” Rachel muttered, but when she looked over and saw how excited Tina and Mercedes were, she broke out in a smile, too.
“Now that we've got the solos settled, let's get down to song choice,” Will said.
Kurt raised his hand. “Mr. Schue, if I may?”
“Go ahead.”
“Considering we're going up against the Warblers . . .”
“Hold on, Kurt. I don't want any spying.”
“Oh, no,” Kurt said. “Blaine and I have a strict policy against discussing show choir on our dates. But I can speak from my past experience as a Warbler, and as you've probably noticed, the Warblers don't do songs written more than 15 years ago for competitions. Therefore, I think we should differentiate ourselves as much as possible and go for older songs.”
“Why don't they do songs more than 15 years old?” Quinn asked.
“It has something to do with the great Doo-Wop Travesty of 1989.”
Everyone turned and looked at Kurt. “I'm not kidding,” he said. “It's specifically mentioned in the constitution.”
“They have a constitution?” Tina asked.
Kurt thought about it. “Actually, it's probably in the amendments to the constitution . . .”
“They have a Bill of Rights?” Finn asked.
Will walked over to the white board and wrote Tina's name on one side and Mercedes's name on the other. “Regardless of the Warblers' rules of order,” he said, “I think Kurt's idea is a good one. Who has a suggestion?”
* * *
The bell rang to signal the end of the period, and the members of New Directions filed out of the choir room. Santana and Kurt quickened their paces out the door, and they soon flanked Karofsky.
“How are you?” Kurt asked.
“I'm . . . dealing,” Karofsky said.
“Azimio?”
“Still won't talk to me.” Karofsky shrugged. “Some of the other guys on the team are freaked, too. But some of them don't seem to care, so that's a start, I guess.”
“Have your parents gone all Russell and Judy Fabray on you yet?” Santana said.
“Santana,” Kurt admonished, but Karofsky just shook his head.
“Nah. My mom said she still loved me in between bouts of hysterical crying, and my dad . . . well, once I convinced him I wasn't going to coat myself in glitter and run off to Broadway, he calmed down. So, I mean, it could have gone way worse.”
Kurt furrowed his brow. “But your dad seemed like--”
“Yeah, 'seemed,'” Karofsky cut him off, “because he just wanted to get the hell out of the principal's office. I think he'll be okay with it, though. Eventually.”
“Hey, your parents didn't kick you out, I have a super-hot girlfriend, and we both still have some friends.” Santana clapped Karofsky on the back. “I'd say we're doing pretty well for ourselves.”
Karofsky didn't answer, though, because he'd just caught site of Azimio marching straight at him.
Without even speaking, Azimio threw a slushie in his face and walked off.
“Get back here, you cowardly little--” Santana started.
“Stop,” Karofsky interrupted. “The last thing I want is him coming back here.” He wiped slushie from his eyes. “I just want to get cleaned up.”
Santana and Kurt looked at each other. “I was going to sneak off campus to meet Blaine for lunch, but I can be a little late.”
Santana snorted. “Go get your dapper on, loverboy. I'll take him to the girls' bathroom.”
“The girls' bathroom?” Karofsky's eyes widened. Santana rolled hers.
“It's not like there's anything in there you want to see, anyway,” she said, and she dragged him off.
* * *
“I'm glad you both responded to my Facebook event request,” Rachel said. She stood by the piano in the choir room and, in front of her, Mercedes and Tina sat on stools.
“We ate lunch together today,” Mercedes pointed out. “You could have just asked us about it then.”
“As this is about business, I wanted to be as formal as possible.”
Tina and Mercedes exchanged glances. “Business?” Tina asked.
“Show business,” Rachel replied. She took a folder off of the piano and pulled out two stapled packets. She handed one to each of the other girls. “I made you packets about vocal health, and fashion, and stage presence. You two are going to be representing New Directions at Sectionals this year, and I want you to do your absolute best.”
Mercedes rolled her eyes as she paged through her packet. “So you can sing at Regionals?”
“So our club can win Nationals and the grant money, and we can leave a legacy at McKinley High,” Rachel insisted.
Tina just looked at her. “So you can sing at Regionals.”
Rachel sighed. “Believe what you want to, but these packets are going to be our ticket to success.”
She turned around to rifle through a stack of CDs that was also sitting on the piano. Tina used the opportunity to lean over and whisper in Mercedes's ear.
“Why are we indulging her delusions, this time?”
“Because when she's not acting like she just escaped from Arkham Asylum, she's our friend,” Mercedes said.
“I can't believe you read comic books now,” Tina shook her head.
“You should start. They're just like soap operas, but with lasers. Look, the point is, it's hard for her to give up control, but she's been getting better about it. So we'll just let her do her crazy, and everything will be fine.”
“Aha!” Rachel exclaimed. “I knew I had a disc of Céline Dion!”
Tina raised her eyebrows. “If it gets to be too much, promise me we can storm out?”
“Promise,” Mercedes said, looking slightly horrified at Rachel's enthusiasm.
* * *
The next morning, Will walked out of the teacher's lounge with a fresh cup of coffee. The first thing he saw was Karofsky wearing a rain coat and being flanked by a very surly-looking Noah Puckerman and a very wary-looking Mike Chang. He squinted at them as they passed.
“The rain coat's for slushies,” Kurt explained. Will turned to his right to see his student leaning against the wall, also watching the progress of Karofsky and his bodyguards. “He got hit three times yesterday. Surprisingly, those stains are just as difficult to get out of plain cotton t-shirts as they are to get out of my couture.”
“I thought students weren't doing that anymore,” Will said.
Kurt pushed himself off the wall and shrugged. “Things change. People find new targets.”
“How's he doing?” Will asked.
“About as well as can be expected. Which is to say: not great.”
Will stared down the hallway where Karofsky had just walked. “I wish there was something I could do to help him.”
He turned his head back quickly when he heard Kurt snort.
“What?”
Kurt just looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. “Is Sue Sylvester right? Do you really not listen to yourself when you speak?”
“I don't--”
“It's your job to help him. It's your job to help all of us. You, Figgins, Coach Beiste, Ms. Pillsbury? It's all of your jobs to help all of us.”
Will stood slack-jawed as Kurt stepped closer.
“You're the ones who have the power to protect us. To stop the bullying. But you don't. You think that just because you give us one safe space in the school that that's all you need to do. But it's not enough. It wasn't enough for me, and it's sure as hell not enough for him. You're supposed to have our backs, Mr. Schue.”
Kurt was seething at this point, and it was all Will could do to ineffectually reply, “I thought I would make it worse. I didn't want to make it worse.”
“And by not doing anything, you made sure it wouldn't get better,” Kurt replied. He looked away to collect himself. “I don't know why I'm telling you this,” he said, his voice calmer. “I don't-- Maybe there's nothing you can do, I don't know. But don't pretend like the fact that you never tried is okay. Because it's not.”
Kurt gave him one last glare and walked away. Will watched him go, and then looked down at his coffee cup in dismay.
* * *
Emma looked up from the notes on her desk when Will sank into the chair in front of her. She checked her watch and furrowed her brow at him.
“Don't you have a class right now?” she asked.
“I turned on Telemundo for them,” Will said. “I had to come talk to you.”
“What's up?” Emma leaned forward, concerned.
“I just-- I like to think of myself as a good teacher,” he started.
“You are a good teacher, Will. You're very good.”
Will winced at the praise. “At some things, maybe. But I was talking Kurt this morning, about the David-Karofsky-coming-out situation, and . . .” He sighed. “The bullying's back, Emma. The bullying's back, it was maybe never even gone the first time, and I don't know what to do about it. And how I handled it when it happened to Kurt didn't work. It didn't work at all.”
“You did your best,” Emma said, trying to sound reassuring.
“I didn't do anything,” Will snapped. “I failed him. I should've been the one helping him, but it was Sue, a certifiable sociopath, who was the only one who could get anything done for him. Sue Sylvester was a better educator than I was.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.
“It wasn't just you who failed him,” Emma said in a small voice. “I did, too. We all did, even Sue, eventually.”
“I can't let that happen again.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Will ran his hands through his hair. “I don't know. But I have to do something.”
Emma reached out her hands, and Will placed his in hers.
“You can't just leave your kids watching telenovelas all day,” she said.
“I know.”
“I'm going to do some research, okay?” Emma said. “I'm going to do some research, and we're going to round up Shannon and maybe, God help us, Sue, and we're going to go to Figgins with a plan. And we are going to change things at this school, or we're going to get fired trying.”
Will looked gratefully at her. “What do we do until then?”
“Give out detentions. Call kids out when they're saying homophobic things. Intervene. Do all the things we should have been doing this whole time,” Emma said. “We can't protect every student every second of every day, but that's no reason not to try.”
“I love you so much,” Will said.
She squeezed his hands. “Go conjugate some verbs. I'm going to make some phone calls.”
* * *
“. . . so the rain coat helped, and so did the security detail, but Azimio and some of his newly made hockey jerk friends have switched to verbal harassment, which is a little more difficult to derail. Santana's trying to come up with a list of comebacks for him to use, but I don't know if Dave knows enough Spanish for those to really be effective.”
Kurt paused and took a sip of his coffee. Blaine, who had been looking basically everywhere in the Lima Bean but at his boyfriend, took the opportunity to speak.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.
“Honestly, I don't know,” Kurt said. “Santana's always been good at coming up with cutting insults, but--”
“That's not what I meant,” Blaine said. “I meant . . . the amount of time. You're spending. With Karofsky.”
A switch flipped and Kurt's previously open and inviting face turned cautious and cold. “What do you mean?”
“This is the guy who bullied you so badly you had to transfer schools, Kurt.”
“Because he couldn't deal with his intense levels of self-loathing. That's not really an issue anymore.”
“So you forgive him?”
Kurt slammed his coffee down on the table and made a frustrated noise. “Yes!” He paused. “No! I don't know, okay? All I know is that once upon a time, my dad took my car away when he found my hope chest, Finn called me a fag, Puck threw me in dumpsters, and Santana made every gay joke in the world about me. And look at where they are now. People change, Blaine. I believe that. I have to believe that.”
Blaine took a deep breath and scowled out the window. “I don't like it,” he said. “I can't make you do anything and I'm not asking you to, but I can tell you that I don't like it and that I'm concerned. I don't think it's healthy--”
“This isn't up for debate,” Kurt said, “and I'm tired of having to defend myself for being supportive of another gay kid. I don't want to argue about this anymore.”
“Fine,” Blaine said. They sipped their coffee in silence.
Part 2
Author: lennoxave
Pairing,Character(s): Ensemble, emphasis on Kurt, Karofsky, Finn, Will, Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~9,000
Warnings: There's a lot of Karofsky in this. So, y'know, discussion of all the things that could go along with that.
Spoilers: Through 2.22 "New York" NO SEASON 3 SPOILERS. On the off-chance that something on the show ends up at all like anything that ends up in this series, it's completely coincidental.
Summary: Now that Karofsky's come out of the closet, things have gotten a whole lot more complicated for the members of New Directions. And just in time to face the Warblers at Sectionals, too.
Author's Note: This is written like it's an episode of the show, so I mostly deal with outward reactions, rather than the characters inner thoughts and feelings. Part of my Fantasy Season 3 series.
Episode 1: Magic Kingdom
Episode 2: What You Want
Episode 5: Past, Present, and Future Tense
Episode 7: Comfort Zone
Episode 9: Out
So, here's what you missed on Glee: Everybody's out of the closet, there are some new kids in glee club, and if New Directions wins Nationals this year, they'll get funding forever. Some other stuff happened, but you should probably just read the other chapters if you want to find out.
. . . And that's what you missed, on Glee!
One Last Chance (3.10)
“I can't believe it,” Finn said, staring at his coffee. “I just can't believe it.”
The thirteen veteran members of New Directions sat around a table at the Lima Bean. They were all in various stages of shock and disbelief.
“What, because a jock guy like Karofsky couldn't possibly be gay?” Santana snarked.
“No,” Finn shook his head. “Because how could you be such a douche to people about something that you actually are?”
Santana caught Kurt's eye from across the table and cleared her throat uncomfortably. “It's easier than you'd think,” she said seriously. She immediately flipped back to bitch mode. “I'd try to explain it to you, but I don't think your tiny Neanderthal brain could comprehend it.”
“San . . .” Brittany started, but Rachel cut in.
“Look,” she said. “I know this puts us all in a very strange position. All of us have been victims of Karofsky's bullying--some of us more than others,” she added when Mercedes looked ready to jump in on Kurt's behalf, “--but he needs our support right now. We're some of the few people he knows who are okay with his sexuality.”
“That doesn't mean I'm okay with him,” Mercedes muttered. Kurt patted her hand.
“I felt isolated even when I was surrounded by friends who I knew accepted me,” he said. “Can you imagine what it must be like for him?”
“You say that like it excuses everything he's done. He made you transfer, Kurt.”
“But he's not the same person he was then. He's changed. He's learned. I'm not going to sit here and say I forgive him for everything, but I can recognize that he had bigger issues going on and I'm not going to hate him forever because of it. And he needs our help. He doesn't have a support system.”
“The way I see it,” Puck said, “is Karofsky hasn't pulled anything since last year. That seems like change to me.”
“Me, too,” Finn said.
Tina sighed. “I don't love it, either, but I think, given the circumstances, we should maybe give the guy a second chance.”
The others nodded in agreement. Mercedes groaned.
“Fine,” she said. “I'm on board the Helping Karofsky Express. I don't have to like it, though.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Kurt said, and he leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“So, we're all in agreement?” Rachel said.
“Yes, god, haven't you been paying attention?” Santana asked. “Do you want us to do a secret ballot or something?”
“Wait,” Sam cut in. “Is this what you guys did when you thought I was getting it on with Kurt and Quinn?”
Everyone traded awkward glances. Kurt looked vaguely mortified.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“We need to not have any more group meetings about people's personal lives,” Sam said as they all started to get up. “It's a little creepy.”
“Word,” Artie replied.
The crowd began to break up, and Santana took advantage of Mercedes saying goodbye to Sam to pull Kurt aside.
“You didn't tell them that you knew,” she said.
Kurt looked surprised. “How . . .” he stuttered. “How did you know I knew?”
“Dave got jacked on Four Lokos one night and called me,” Santana shrugged. “He wasn't exactly in the best state of mind, so he told me about the stupid thing he almost did.”
Kurt's eyes narrowed at her use of the word “almost.” “Well, I didn't think it was worth bringing up,” he said. “This is a hard enough sell as it is, and I don't want people to freak out over nothing, as they are so prone to do. So, can we keep this between us? For Dave's sake?”
“For Dave's sake,” Santana agreed.
* * *
The next day in glee, Karofsky took his usual seat by himself in the back row. However, he was soon joined by Puck.
“'Sup?” Puck said, sitting down next to him.
“. . . Hey,” Karofsky said, a bit perplexed.
On his other side, Sam sat down. “Yo,” he said in greeting.
Karofsky looked between them. “What exactly--”
“We're being supportive,” Sam said. “We know you're having a rough go of it, and you're not so bad when you're not being a jackass whose face I want to punch in, so . . . y'know.”
“We somehow became friends,” Puck added. “And we don't leave our friends behind.”
“We're friends just because I'm in glee?” Karofsky asked.
Puck shrugged. “That's maybe why we're friends, but . . . I think we might just be friends. Period.”
Karofsky smiled gratefully. “Did you catch the fight last night?”
“Dude,” Puck said, “boxing is weak. Gloves? Seriously? UFC's where it's at.” He looked at Karofsky and smirked a little. “Plus, buff shirtless dudes rolling around on the ground with each other, which I guess some people are into.” His tone was teasing, but in friendly way.
Lauren leaned over him and added, “Lord knows that's why I watch it. If you need tips on which bout's gonna have the hottest guys, you just let me know.”
Karofsky chuckled in disbelief. “Uh, thanks.”
“Everyone!” Rachel announced as she and Finn walked into the choir room. “Finn and I skipped last period--”
“--to make out in a broom closet? Really, Rachel, I don't need to know your life,” Santana cut in.
“--to finish writing our song, Santana, and I must tell you, it might be the best thing that anyone's ever written.”
“Ever,” Finn nodded.
“All right, Sonny and Cher,” Mercedes rolled her eyes, “let's hear it.”
Finn and Rachel were just turning to the jazz band when Will walked in.
“Bad news, guys,” he said. “We're not allowed to do original songs in competition this year.”
“What?” Rachel practically shrieked.
Will flashed back to his conversation with Sue in the teacher's lounge.
“I can't believe you would do this to us!” he yelled at her.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Will, I spent two years of my life trying to ruin yours. You're gonna have to be more specific, buddy.”
He slammed the Official 2011-2012 Show Choir Rules binder on the table in front of her. “Rule 168 states that no show choir may perform an original song penned by its members. And when I called the board to complain, they informed me that you had threatened them until they changed the rule. I thought we were done with this.”
Sue shook her head and smiled condescendingly at him. “William, William, William,” she said. “We are done with this. I lobbied the show choir board ages ago. When I lost Regionals, after I punched out that woman whose title I can't be bothered to remember, I was drinking rubbing alcohol to dull the ache in my hand--I don't believe in pain medication, it makes you weak--and I had the excellent idea of emailing the board pictures of myself holding increasingly larger knives until they banned original songs from their competitions, since that must have been what convinced them to vote for your group and not mine. They, of course, complied, and that's why that rule is in place. It has nothing to do with where we are now.”
“But when you decided to stop sabotaging us,” Will said, “why didn't you tell them to change their minds?”
Sue grabbed her coffee mug and stood up. “Because,” she smirked, “I Youtubed your performance at Nationals. I realized I had done you a favor.”
“Wait, this is Sue's fault?” Quinn asked, Will having just offered them the explanation.
“Oh, that woman,” Mercedes grumbled.
“This is crazy!” Puck said.
“They can't do this to us the week of competition!” Tina exclaimed.
“So, you just checked the rulebook today?” Santana pointed out. Everyone turned to look at her. “What, I say the obvious thing and suddenly I'm the bitch?”
“'Suddenly'?” Lauren mused.
“That's enough, guys,” Will said. “Arguing about it's not going to change anything. The most important thing writing original songs taught us was that we work best as a team. We need to come up with a plan. Together.”
Sam spoke up first. “It's recently come to my attention that one Ms. Mercedes Jones has never had a solo in competition.” He grinned at his girlfriend. “I think we need to fix that.”
“Normally I would shocked and appalled that I wasn't the first one considered for a solo,” Rachel said, “but since we're talking about Mercedes . . . motion seconded.”
“Thirded,” Kurt piped in.
“Okay,” Will said. “All those in favor of the motion of the gentleman from Tennessee, say, 'aye.'”
“Aye!” the glee club chorused.
Will smiled. “The ayes have it. Mercedes will be singing our ballad.”
“Um, Mr. Schue?” Mike ventured. “Tina's never had a featured solo in a competition, either, and I think she totally deserves one.”
“Preach,” Artie said, while Tina reached over and squeezed Mike's hand.
“You're absolutely right,” Will said. “Tina, would you be comfortable singing a solo?”
“It's been two years since 'Tonight,' Mr. Schuester,” Tina said. “I've grown.”
“Wait, so I don't get any solos?” Rachel wondered aloud. Kurt leaned over and whispered to her.
“Sweetie, in nine months you're going to be at some ridiculously prestigious music school preparing for a life spent on Broadway. Give somebody else a chance this one time, okay? Our girls aren't going to let us down.”
“I suppose,” Rachel muttered, but when she looked over and saw how excited Tina and Mercedes were, she broke out in a smile, too.
“Now that we've got the solos settled, let's get down to song choice,” Will said.
Kurt raised his hand. “Mr. Schue, if I may?”
“Go ahead.”
“Considering we're going up against the Warblers . . .”
“Hold on, Kurt. I don't want any spying.”
“Oh, no,” Kurt said. “Blaine and I have a strict policy against discussing show choir on our dates. But I can speak from my past experience as a Warbler, and as you've probably noticed, the Warblers don't do songs written more than 15 years ago for competitions. Therefore, I think we should differentiate ourselves as much as possible and go for older songs.”
“Why don't they do songs more than 15 years old?” Quinn asked.
“It has something to do with the great Doo-Wop Travesty of 1989.”
Everyone turned and looked at Kurt. “I'm not kidding,” he said. “It's specifically mentioned in the constitution.”
“They have a constitution?” Tina asked.
Kurt thought about it. “Actually, it's probably in the amendments to the constitution . . .”
“They have a Bill of Rights?” Finn asked.
Will walked over to the white board and wrote Tina's name on one side and Mercedes's name on the other. “Regardless of the Warblers' rules of order,” he said, “I think Kurt's idea is a good one. Who has a suggestion?”
* * *
The bell rang to signal the end of the period, and the members of New Directions filed out of the choir room. Santana and Kurt quickened their paces out the door, and they soon flanked Karofsky.
“How are you?” Kurt asked.
“I'm . . . dealing,” Karofsky said.
“Azimio?”
“Still won't talk to me.” Karofsky shrugged. “Some of the other guys on the team are freaked, too. But some of them don't seem to care, so that's a start, I guess.”
“Have your parents gone all Russell and Judy Fabray on you yet?” Santana said.
“Santana,” Kurt admonished, but Karofsky just shook his head.
“Nah. My mom said she still loved me in between bouts of hysterical crying, and my dad . . . well, once I convinced him I wasn't going to coat myself in glitter and run off to Broadway, he calmed down. So, I mean, it could have gone way worse.”
Kurt furrowed his brow. “But your dad seemed like--”
“Yeah, 'seemed,'” Karofsky cut him off, “because he just wanted to get the hell out of the principal's office. I think he'll be okay with it, though. Eventually.”
“Hey, your parents didn't kick you out, I have a super-hot girlfriend, and we both still have some friends.” Santana clapped Karofsky on the back. “I'd say we're doing pretty well for ourselves.”
Karofsky didn't answer, though, because he'd just caught site of Azimio marching straight at him.
Without even speaking, Azimio threw a slushie in his face and walked off.
“Get back here, you cowardly little--” Santana started.
“Stop,” Karofsky interrupted. “The last thing I want is him coming back here.” He wiped slushie from his eyes. “I just want to get cleaned up.”
Santana and Kurt looked at each other. “I was going to sneak off campus to meet Blaine for lunch, but I can be a little late.”
Santana snorted. “Go get your dapper on, loverboy. I'll take him to the girls' bathroom.”
“The girls' bathroom?” Karofsky's eyes widened. Santana rolled hers.
“It's not like there's anything in there you want to see, anyway,” she said, and she dragged him off.
* * *
“I'm glad you both responded to my Facebook event request,” Rachel said. She stood by the piano in the choir room and, in front of her, Mercedes and Tina sat on stools.
“We ate lunch together today,” Mercedes pointed out. “You could have just asked us about it then.”
“As this is about business, I wanted to be as formal as possible.”
Tina and Mercedes exchanged glances. “Business?” Tina asked.
“Show business,” Rachel replied. She took a folder off of the piano and pulled out two stapled packets. She handed one to each of the other girls. “I made you packets about vocal health, and fashion, and stage presence. You two are going to be representing New Directions at Sectionals this year, and I want you to do your absolute best.”
Mercedes rolled her eyes as she paged through her packet. “So you can sing at Regionals?”
“So our club can win Nationals and the grant money, and we can leave a legacy at McKinley High,” Rachel insisted.
Tina just looked at her. “So you can sing at Regionals.”
Rachel sighed. “Believe what you want to, but these packets are going to be our ticket to success.”
She turned around to rifle through a stack of CDs that was also sitting on the piano. Tina used the opportunity to lean over and whisper in Mercedes's ear.
“Why are we indulging her delusions, this time?”
“Because when she's not acting like she just escaped from Arkham Asylum, she's our friend,” Mercedes said.
“I can't believe you read comic books now,” Tina shook her head.
“You should start. They're just like soap operas, but with lasers. Look, the point is, it's hard for her to give up control, but she's been getting better about it. So we'll just let her do her crazy, and everything will be fine.”
“Aha!” Rachel exclaimed. “I knew I had a disc of Céline Dion!”
Tina raised her eyebrows. “If it gets to be too much, promise me we can storm out?”
“Promise,” Mercedes said, looking slightly horrified at Rachel's enthusiasm.
* * *
The next morning, Will walked out of the teacher's lounge with a fresh cup of coffee. The first thing he saw was Karofsky wearing a rain coat and being flanked by a very surly-looking Noah Puckerman and a very wary-looking Mike Chang. He squinted at them as they passed.
“The rain coat's for slushies,” Kurt explained. Will turned to his right to see his student leaning against the wall, also watching the progress of Karofsky and his bodyguards. “He got hit three times yesterday. Surprisingly, those stains are just as difficult to get out of plain cotton t-shirts as they are to get out of my couture.”
“I thought students weren't doing that anymore,” Will said.
Kurt pushed himself off the wall and shrugged. “Things change. People find new targets.”
“How's he doing?” Will asked.
“About as well as can be expected. Which is to say: not great.”
Will stared down the hallway where Karofsky had just walked. “I wish there was something I could do to help him.”
He turned his head back quickly when he heard Kurt snort.
“What?”
Kurt just looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. “Is Sue Sylvester right? Do you really not listen to yourself when you speak?”
“I don't--”
“It's your job to help him. It's your job to help all of us. You, Figgins, Coach Beiste, Ms. Pillsbury? It's all of your jobs to help all of us.”
Will stood slack-jawed as Kurt stepped closer.
“You're the ones who have the power to protect us. To stop the bullying. But you don't. You think that just because you give us one safe space in the school that that's all you need to do. But it's not enough. It wasn't enough for me, and it's sure as hell not enough for him. You're supposed to have our backs, Mr. Schue.”
Kurt was seething at this point, and it was all Will could do to ineffectually reply, “I thought I would make it worse. I didn't want to make it worse.”
“And by not doing anything, you made sure it wouldn't get better,” Kurt replied. He looked away to collect himself. “I don't know why I'm telling you this,” he said, his voice calmer. “I don't-- Maybe there's nothing you can do, I don't know. But don't pretend like the fact that you never tried is okay. Because it's not.”
Kurt gave him one last glare and walked away. Will watched him go, and then looked down at his coffee cup in dismay.
* * *
Emma looked up from the notes on her desk when Will sank into the chair in front of her. She checked her watch and furrowed her brow at him.
“Don't you have a class right now?” she asked.
“I turned on Telemundo for them,” Will said. “I had to come talk to you.”
“What's up?” Emma leaned forward, concerned.
“I just-- I like to think of myself as a good teacher,” he started.
“You are a good teacher, Will. You're very good.”
Will winced at the praise. “At some things, maybe. But I was talking Kurt this morning, about the David-Karofsky-coming-out situation, and . . .” He sighed. “The bullying's back, Emma. The bullying's back, it was maybe never even gone the first time, and I don't know what to do about it. And how I handled it when it happened to Kurt didn't work. It didn't work at all.”
“You did your best,” Emma said, trying to sound reassuring.
“I didn't do anything,” Will snapped. “I failed him. I should've been the one helping him, but it was Sue, a certifiable sociopath, who was the only one who could get anything done for him. Sue Sylvester was a better educator than I was.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment.
“It wasn't just you who failed him,” Emma said in a small voice. “I did, too. We all did, even Sue, eventually.”
“I can't let that happen again.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Will ran his hands through his hair. “I don't know. But I have to do something.”
Emma reached out her hands, and Will placed his in hers.
“You can't just leave your kids watching telenovelas all day,” she said.
“I know.”
“I'm going to do some research, okay?” Emma said. “I'm going to do some research, and we're going to round up Shannon and maybe, God help us, Sue, and we're going to go to Figgins with a plan. And we are going to change things at this school, or we're going to get fired trying.”
Will looked gratefully at her. “What do we do until then?”
“Give out detentions. Call kids out when they're saying homophobic things. Intervene. Do all the things we should have been doing this whole time,” Emma said. “We can't protect every student every second of every day, but that's no reason not to try.”
“I love you so much,” Will said.
She squeezed his hands. “Go conjugate some verbs. I'm going to make some phone calls.”
* * *
“. . . so the rain coat helped, and so did the security detail, but Azimio and some of his newly made hockey jerk friends have switched to verbal harassment, which is a little more difficult to derail. Santana's trying to come up with a list of comebacks for him to use, but I don't know if Dave knows enough Spanish for those to really be effective.”
Kurt paused and took a sip of his coffee. Blaine, who had been looking basically everywhere in the Lima Bean but at his boyfriend, took the opportunity to speak.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.
“Honestly, I don't know,” Kurt said. “Santana's always been good at coming up with cutting insults, but--”
“That's not what I meant,” Blaine said. “I meant . . . the amount of time. You're spending. With Karofsky.”
A switch flipped and Kurt's previously open and inviting face turned cautious and cold. “What do you mean?”
“This is the guy who bullied you so badly you had to transfer schools, Kurt.”
“Because he couldn't deal with his intense levels of self-loathing. That's not really an issue anymore.”
“So you forgive him?”
Kurt slammed his coffee down on the table and made a frustrated noise. “Yes!” He paused. “No! I don't know, okay? All I know is that once upon a time, my dad took my car away when he found my hope chest, Finn called me a fag, Puck threw me in dumpsters, and Santana made every gay joke in the world about me. And look at where they are now. People change, Blaine. I believe that. I have to believe that.”
Blaine took a deep breath and scowled out the window. “I don't like it,” he said. “I can't make you do anything and I'm not asking you to, but I can tell you that I don't like it and that I'm concerned. I don't think it's healthy--”
“This isn't up for debate,” Kurt said, “and I'm tired of having to defend myself for being supportive of another gay kid. I don't want to argue about this anymore.”
“Fine,” Blaine said. They sipped their coffee in silence.
Part 2