Break You In
Title: Break You In
Author: kathrynthegr8
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Artie/Quinn, Puck/Rachel, ensemble
Warnings: Some nudity and sexual situations. Mentions of teen pregnancy and childbirth. Spoiler warnings through "Sectionals".
Word count: 2962
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Summary: Artie often goes unnoticed, and he really wants to stand out to one girl.
A/N: Written for becca_radcgg who purchased me over at help_haiti. I hope this meets your expectations! We did good things for charity and that is awesome! I cannot thank cruiscin_lan enough for the time, effort, and skill she put into this for me. I owe her one.
There are some things that Artie knows.
***
It was his mother who first recognized Artie could sing. After the car accident, when he was most depressed and wanted to give up on everything, she took him to a Def Leppard concert. She paid extra for front row seats so that her son could see and experience everything: the wailing of the guitars, the scream of the singer, and the boom of the drums. She never pointed out the one-armed drummer the fans called "The Thunder God"; she didn't have to. Artie saw him with his own eyes. Rick Allen played as the sweat poured off of him, his whole body moving to the music. That night Artie became a fan of a band from his mom's generation, and he forgave her for the accident that took away his mobility. But more importantly, he forgave himself for his poor attitude.
Artie knows that his chances of playing bass in a rock band are pretty slim; slimmer still are his dreams of one day being the lead singer of wildly successful and famous rock band. But that doesn't stop him from practicing his bass until his hands cramp up and his fingertips are numb. He continues to improve his voice by singing all the time, pushing his talent and range to the limit. Glee club helps - gives him incentive to do better, teaches him things about music and songs he wouldn't learn on his own. He's thankful for Mr. Schue and the other Gleeks, even though he knows it may never be enough, but he doesn't let it stop him from trying or keeping his hopes under his bed in the form of concert posters and news clippings preserved neatly in a banker's box. The decision to make music his career isn't one he takes lightly. He can't dance, but he plans to make others dance in his place, moved by his voice and music.
***
"So what's the score?" Kurt asks the room, looking at everyone in turn. They (the original Glee club, minus Rachel) are having an impromptu meeting, not unlike other meetings held in the past when discussing other disasters that had threatened the group - things like Quinn's big pregnancy secret or the yearbook picture fiasco.
Mercedes joins Kurt on the stage and frowns. "Mr. Schue is back with his crazy-ass wife. Ms. Pillsbury left and Principle Figgins hasn't replaced her yet. Oh, and Puck, Finn, and Quinn haven't so much as been in the same room since we won sectionals."
"We- well there is nothing we can do about Mr. Schuester and his messed-up marriage." Tina speaks up from where she's standing beside Artie. "I'm sorry Ms. Pillsbury left, but- but maybe now Mr. Schue can concentrate on us and winning regionals."
"I agree." Kurt pats his hair and crosses his legs. "I mean, Glee is what is important here. I'm more worried about Finn."
Mercedes rolls her eyes and pats his knee. "Don't worry, Finn isn't going anywhere. We're kind of all he has left."
"Oh, well that's comforting." Kurt retorts and looks at his nails.
"It's not like we can fix their relationships. They kind of have to work it out on their own, you know?" Artie adjusts his glasses and blinks. It's not that he's uncomfortable talking about the other members of Glee, but really, all they can possibly accomplish by discussing it is upsetting Kurt.
"Maybe we can fix Finn up with Brittany?" Tina asks, shrugging.
"Did you see her science project?" Kurt sniffs. "I'm amazed she remembers to breathe."
"What was it?" Mercedes asks, frowning at Kurt.
"The entire thing is based on how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop," Kurt snarls.
"What?" Artie and Tina ask at the same time before she starts giggling and he covers his mouth to hold in the laughter. It isn't long before they are all cracking up over Brittany's ridiculousness.
Then there is the thing none of them mention. But it's on their minds nonetheless, even if no one talks about it - the state of Quinn. They were all there when she gave birth in the hospital. Artie had even brought flowers. Finn and Puck stood side by side taking turns sharing information.
Quinn's fine. The baby's fine.
Everything went well. She doesn't want to see anyone.
We got to meet the couple adopting Drizzle, they seem really nice.
And that was all. They had all gone home and not talked about it. But was Quinn fine, okay with all that had happened? There was no way of knowing. She came back to school like nothing had happened, but the truth was that everything had happened, only no one spoke about it. It wasn't that no one cared - it was that no one knew what to say.
"What are you guys laughing about?" Rachel stands in the doorway looking around uncertainly, probably because she's used to being the one laughed at.
"Noth- nothing. We were all just leaving." Tina speaks up before gathering her backpack and pushing Artie towards the door.
"I forgot my music." Rachel walks over to the piano and then smiles. "We did well today at practice, I think." She nods to herself, throwing her shoulders back and holding her head high as she follows the others out of the room. "Really well."
***
Artie is not required to participate in phys ed. He does have physical therapy three days a week; it keeps muscle tone in his legs and gives him upper body strength. When his body is floating in the warm whirlpool after a session of exercises he feels alive and whole. He wonders if it's the same for the football team after a game or any of the other athletes he goes to school with. Although he realizes he doesn't share his victory with anyone and there are no cheering crowds waiting to carry him around on their shoulders. His milestones are small and all his own. He is a team of one.
Not that Artie doesn't know what it's like to be apart of a team - he did. Especially after all his friends in Glee had raised money so they could ride together at sectionals. It meant more to him to feel included than he wanted to admit. He knows he is the best male singer (and he doesn't include Kurt in that category), and that Mercedes has the strongest voice. Finn has the good looks and Mike and Matt dance moves that put Justin Timberlake to shame. But Artie is okay not being center stage, singing duets, and playing his bass. He knows they had a better chance of winning for all his efforts. And that is enough for him, for now.
Artie may not take gym, but he has a locker all the same. It’s larger than his regular one and he can fit spare parts to his chair inside it. He learned early on that wheelchair maintenance was vital to his mobility, so he has a toolkit, spare wheels, and anything he thinks might help him in the event of an emergency repair. Not to mention the ways he has devised to modify his chair and make it work better for him. He is currently working on a better braking system since the ramps Principle Figgins had installed are steep and ice over in inclement weather.
“It’s like I was telling you about my aunt Karen’s poodle, Louisa-” Her voice is cut off by a smack of lips.
“Yeah, baby. I heard you. We have to hurry if we’re going to do this. We have twenty minutes before the bell rings and we’ll be surrounded by a sweaty freshman gym class.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“It had nothing to do with talking. Here, let me help.”
He recognizes their voices, but can’t help rolling closer and confirming it. The wheels make no sound on the concrete floor, and when Artie peeks around the corner he sees Rachel and Puck in what can only be described as an enthusiastic display of public sex. Artie is surprised by the color of Rachel’s nipples; they are darker than he thought they would be. He doesn’t mean to stare, but it’s not every day he gets to see a live nude girl getting it on just a few feet away from him. He spares a thought to hope that Puck remembered to wear a condom this time. The last thing anyone needs is Babygate 2.0. Eventually he remembers why he came into the locker room in the first place and decides to come back later to replace the LED lights on his right front tire.
He really hopes he can forget what he’s seen before he has to look at either of them again. And it’s easier than he imagines; the minute he can no longer see or hear them, his thoughts are elsewhere, examining a memory from a few months back he can't seem to shake.
He's usually the last one to leave practice on any given day; it's easier to take his time and not be in anyone's way when they rush off to catch the late bus or start their walk home. No reason for him to hurry - his mom will be waiting in the parking lot, too eager to hear all about his boring day. Except he's not alone on this particular afternoon. Quinn hangs back once Mr. Schue dismisses them, eyes wary as she watches the others leave until they are the last two people in the room and silence engulfs them.
"Hey Quinn." He doesn't know what to say, only thinks that he should say something to her. She's a walking contradiction: prom queen beauty and glowing with gravidity. The uncertainty on her face makes her real and vulnerable and Artie can't help the pang of sympathy that stabs at his heart.
The smile that lights her face is timid at first, not reaching her eyes or changing her expression. "Hi, Artie. Your bass sounded really good today."
He hates the blush that colors his cheeks and the innate shyness that makes him look away. They are the only people left in the room now, and he wants to talk to her. "Thanks."
"You practice a lot, huh?" she asks, stepping down from the risers and standing in front of him. "I miss that. All the practice." Her voice falters, but she doesn't move away. With her hair down and in regular clothes, she is approachable, almost normal. Except if anything she's even prettier now than before and Artie can't stop staring. He fumbles with his gloves, pulling them over his sweaty hands, thankful for the distraction.
"You know what they say..." And he almost finishes the statement, lame though it is. Quinn adjusts her stance, placing her hands on her lower back and stretching, stifling a yawn in the process. "Your belly!" He blurts out, immediately regretting it the moment it leaves his mouth.
"Yeah, disgusting, right?" She laughs and rubs her hands across the wide expanse of her waistline, the smile on her face this time genuine and wistful.
Artie has to catch his breath, remind himself to breathe as he continues to stare at her. "No. Not that. Just big. Does it hurt?"
"Not really. I just feel uncomfortable all the time. Part of me wants it over with and the other part..." Her eyes change, like she's looking inward or maybe far away. "She just kicked. Want to feel?" She reaches for his hand before he can answer and places it low on her abdomen, covering it with her own. The gentle press downward produces a flutter against the palm of his hand, followed by a push outward. His entire body tingles at the contact and he realizes she is an entire unknown world to him.
"That's amazing. She can hear you, you know? When you sing. I bet she can hear you." He snaps his mouth shut, fearing he's said too much. But Quinn continues to hold his hand in her own and nods. His head spins with what to say next and nothing makes sense and courage fails him. Should he be chivalrous and offer her a ride home? Visions of introducing her to his mom flit through his head, and then he thinks of the awkwardness of Quinn seeing the van. This wasn't an option, not today.
Eventually Quinn lets go of his hand and steps back. "I have to go. My turn to help Finn's mom with dinner."
Artie nods, still at a loss for words, which is no surprise. To him Quinn is the type of girl who inspires serenades in Spanish. And maybe one day he'll do it. But on that day he watched as she walked away and made plans for the future.
***
Artie knew he was going to get along with his step-dad right away. Jim was a good man that made his mother happy which was the most important thing. But Jim was more than a just his mom’s husband. He loved Artie too, and made a point of treating him like a regular kid. He made Artie do chores and took him to hockey games. When they moved into a new house a few years back it was Jim who hired a contractor to widen all the doorways and replace all the windows with lower frames. He was more than a father - he was Artie’s friend.
“Mom, I don’t want to drive a van.” Artie tried not to sound whiney, but knew he was failing.
“We discussed this, Arthur. Vans are the best vehicles for modifications, not to mention how much safer they are if you were to get into an accident.” His mother’s tone was kind, but she was unmoved by his argument.
“Lame. I’ll look lame driving around in one of those things.”
“So that’s what you think about me?” Her frown said more than it should. “I could stop driving it and you could take the bus.” Artie got the message loud and clear and decided to hold his tongue.
“Come on, Brenda. Artie is a teenage boy. Of course he wants a cool car to drive.” Jim glanced up from the magazine he was reading, as if he’d been ignoring the conversation going on while he sat there. “We’re lucky he isn’t asking for a motorcycle to go with that leather jacket he loves so much.”
“Please do not give him any ideas!” His mother rubbed her forehead and threw up her hands in defeat. “There is entirely too much testosterone in this room. I’m going to the store.” She grabbed her keys and walked toward the door. “In my lame van!” She threw over her shoulder before she shut the door.
“Go easy on your mom, kid. She’s got your best interests at heart.” Jim flipped the page of his magazine and whistled. “I’ll talk to her.”
***
He times everything just right; revs the engine of his black Volvo XC60 and pulls away from the curb. Quinn is walking home from school on the sidewalk ahead of him, her blond hair shining in the sun. Artie takes a breath to steady his nerves and hopes his heart doesn’t burst from beating too fast.
The car rolls smoothly to stop right next to her and Artie rolls down the window. “Want a ride home?” His voice cracks in the middle and he has to swallow and remind himself to breathe. Visions of Puck and Rachel in the locker room flit through his mind and he tells himself it’s a reminder that Quinn is free and not that he’s thinking about sex right that moment. Except he is totally thinking about it and Artie isn’t good at lying to himself.
Quinn stops walking and looks over her shoulder at him. “Artie?” She walks over and smiles, adjusting her books so she can lean over to see him. “Nice car. I didn’t know you drive.”
“I just got my driver's license.” He considers pulling it from his wallet to show her, but decides against it. “I saw you walking and I thought…” He runs out of words and his mind goes blank. This is crazy. Why would Quinn Fabray want to hang out with him? It’s a bad idea and Artie is regretting ever thinking he could pull this off.
“Okay.” She opens the door and slides in beside him and buckles her seat belt. “I live at-”
“I know where you live,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.
Quinn glances over and giggles. “Thanks, Artie. You are a sweetheart. I miss my car, but it was one of the things my parents insisted I give up before I moved back in.” Her laughter is gone now, replaced with a heavy sadness that fills the car like a thick fog.
Artie steers them onto the road and checks his mirrors. “High school is almost over. Things will get better. They always do.”
She glances over at him as if weighing his words. “How do you know?”
“Accidents happen, but I think they are just life’s way of breaking us in. If we survive we come out tougher, better people.” He turns the radio to a top forty station and taps his fingers on the steering wheel.
She rubs at her eyes with her fingertips and then leans over, kissing him on the cheek. It’s all he can do not to drive them off the road. “Thanks, Artie.”
It’s his turn to smile at her and he does. It’s a beginning.
Author: kathrynthegr8
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Artie/Quinn, Puck/Rachel, ensemble
Warnings: Some nudity and sexual situations. Mentions of teen pregnancy and childbirth. Spoiler warnings through "Sectionals".
Word count: 2962
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Summary: Artie often goes unnoticed, and he really wants to stand out to one girl.
A/N: Written for becca_radcgg who purchased me over at help_haiti. I hope this meets your expectations! We did good things for charity and that is awesome! I cannot thank cruiscin_lan enough for the time, effort, and skill she put into this for me. I owe her one.
There are some things that Artie knows.
***
It was his mother who first recognized Artie could sing. After the car accident, when he was most depressed and wanted to give up on everything, she took him to a Def Leppard concert. She paid extra for front row seats so that her son could see and experience everything: the wailing of the guitars, the scream of the singer, and the boom of the drums. She never pointed out the one-armed drummer the fans called "The Thunder God"; she didn't have to. Artie saw him with his own eyes. Rick Allen played as the sweat poured off of him, his whole body moving to the music. That night Artie became a fan of a band from his mom's generation, and he forgave her for the accident that took away his mobility. But more importantly, he forgave himself for his poor attitude.
Artie knows that his chances of playing bass in a rock band are pretty slim; slimmer still are his dreams of one day being the lead singer of wildly successful and famous rock band. But that doesn't stop him from practicing his bass until his hands cramp up and his fingertips are numb. He continues to improve his voice by singing all the time, pushing his talent and range to the limit. Glee club helps - gives him incentive to do better, teaches him things about music and songs he wouldn't learn on his own. He's thankful for Mr. Schue and the other Gleeks, even though he knows it may never be enough, but he doesn't let it stop him from trying or keeping his hopes under his bed in the form of concert posters and news clippings preserved neatly in a banker's box. The decision to make music his career isn't one he takes lightly. He can't dance, but he plans to make others dance in his place, moved by his voice and music.
***
"So what's the score?" Kurt asks the room, looking at everyone in turn. They (the original Glee club, minus Rachel) are having an impromptu meeting, not unlike other meetings held in the past when discussing other disasters that had threatened the group - things like Quinn's big pregnancy secret or the yearbook picture fiasco.
Mercedes joins Kurt on the stage and frowns. "Mr. Schue is back with his crazy-ass wife. Ms. Pillsbury left and Principle Figgins hasn't replaced her yet. Oh, and Puck, Finn, and Quinn haven't so much as been in the same room since we won sectionals."
"We- well there is nothing we can do about Mr. Schuester and his messed-up marriage." Tina speaks up from where she's standing beside Artie. "I'm sorry Ms. Pillsbury left, but- but maybe now Mr. Schue can concentrate on us and winning regionals."
"I agree." Kurt pats his hair and crosses his legs. "I mean, Glee is what is important here. I'm more worried about Finn."
Mercedes rolls her eyes and pats his knee. "Don't worry, Finn isn't going anywhere. We're kind of all he has left."
"Oh, well that's comforting." Kurt retorts and looks at his nails.
"It's not like we can fix their relationships. They kind of have to work it out on their own, you know?" Artie adjusts his glasses and blinks. It's not that he's uncomfortable talking about the other members of Glee, but really, all they can possibly accomplish by discussing it is upsetting Kurt.
"Maybe we can fix Finn up with Brittany?" Tina asks, shrugging.
"Did you see her science project?" Kurt sniffs. "I'm amazed she remembers to breathe."
"What was it?" Mercedes asks, frowning at Kurt.
"The entire thing is based on how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop," Kurt snarls.
"What?" Artie and Tina ask at the same time before she starts giggling and he covers his mouth to hold in the laughter. It isn't long before they are all cracking up over Brittany's ridiculousness.
Then there is the thing none of them mention. But it's on their minds nonetheless, even if no one talks about it - the state of Quinn. They were all there when she gave birth in the hospital. Artie had even brought flowers. Finn and Puck stood side by side taking turns sharing information.
Quinn's fine. The baby's fine.
Everything went well. She doesn't want to see anyone.
We got to meet the couple adopting Drizzle, they seem really nice.
And that was all. They had all gone home and not talked about it. But was Quinn fine, okay with all that had happened? There was no way of knowing. She came back to school like nothing had happened, but the truth was that everything had happened, only no one spoke about it. It wasn't that no one cared - it was that no one knew what to say.
"What are you guys laughing about?" Rachel stands in the doorway looking around uncertainly, probably because she's used to being the one laughed at.
"Noth- nothing. We were all just leaving." Tina speaks up before gathering her backpack and pushing Artie towards the door.
"I forgot my music." Rachel walks over to the piano and then smiles. "We did well today at practice, I think." She nods to herself, throwing her shoulders back and holding her head high as she follows the others out of the room. "Really well."
***
Artie is not required to participate in phys ed. He does have physical therapy three days a week; it keeps muscle tone in his legs and gives him upper body strength. When his body is floating in the warm whirlpool after a session of exercises he feels alive and whole. He wonders if it's the same for the football team after a game or any of the other athletes he goes to school with. Although he realizes he doesn't share his victory with anyone and there are no cheering crowds waiting to carry him around on their shoulders. His milestones are small and all his own. He is a team of one.
Not that Artie doesn't know what it's like to be apart of a team - he did. Especially after all his friends in Glee had raised money so they could ride together at sectionals. It meant more to him to feel included than he wanted to admit. He knows he is the best male singer (and he doesn't include Kurt in that category), and that Mercedes has the strongest voice. Finn has the good looks and Mike and Matt dance moves that put Justin Timberlake to shame. But Artie is okay not being center stage, singing duets, and playing his bass. He knows they had a better chance of winning for all his efforts. And that is enough for him, for now.
Artie may not take gym, but he has a locker all the same. It’s larger than his regular one and he can fit spare parts to his chair inside it. He learned early on that wheelchair maintenance was vital to his mobility, so he has a toolkit, spare wheels, and anything he thinks might help him in the event of an emergency repair. Not to mention the ways he has devised to modify his chair and make it work better for him. He is currently working on a better braking system since the ramps Principle Figgins had installed are steep and ice over in inclement weather.
“It’s like I was telling you about my aunt Karen’s poodle, Louisa-” Her voice is cut off by a smack of lips.
“Yeah, baby. I heard you. We have to hurry if we’re going to do this. We have twenty minutes before the bell rings and we’ll be surrounded by a sweaty freshman gym class.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“It had nothing to do with talking. Here, let me help.”
He recognizes their voices, but can’t help rolling closer and confirming it. The wheels make no sound on the concrete floor, and when Artie peeks around the corner he sees Rachel and Puck in what can only be described as an enthusiastic display of public sex. Artie is surprised by the color of Rachel’s nipples; they are darker than he thought they would be. He doesn’t mean to stare, but it’s not every day he gets to see a live nude girl getting it on just a few feet away from him. He spares a thought to hope that Puck remembered to wear a condom this time. The last thing anyone needs is Babygate 2.0. Eventually he remembers why he came into the locker room in the first place and decides to come back later to replace the LED lights on his right front tire.
He really hopes he can forget what he’s seen before he has to look at either of them again. And it’s easier than he imagines; the minute he can no longer see or hear them, his thoughts are elsewhere, examining a memory from a few months back he can't seem to shake.
He's usually the last one to leave practice on any given day; it's easier to take his time and not be in anyone's way when they rush off to catch the late bus or start their walk home. No reason for him to hurry - his mom will be waiting in the parking lot, too eager to hear all about his boring day. Except he's not alone on this particular afternoon. Quinn hangs back once Mr. Schue dismisses them, eyes wary as she watches the others leave until they are the last two people in the room and silence engulfs them.
"Hey Quinn." He doesn't know what to say, only thinks that he should say something to her. She's a walking contradiction: prom queen beauty and glowing with gravidity. The uncertainty on her face makes her real and vulnerable and Artie can't help the pang of sympathy that stabs at his heart.
The smile that lights her face is timid at first, not reaching her eyes or changing her expression. "Hi, Artie. Your bass sounded really good today."
He hates the blush that colors his cheeks and the innate shyness that makes him look away. They are the only people left in the room now, and he wants to talk to her. "Thanks."
"You practice a lot, huh?" she asks, stepping down from the risers and standing in front of him. "I miss that. All the practice." Her voice falters, but she doesn't move away. With her hair down and in regular clothes, she is approachable, almost normal. Except if anything she's even prettier now than before and Artie can't stop staring. He fumbles with his gloves, pulling them over his sweaty hands, thankful for the distraction.
"You know what they say..." And he almost finishes the statement, lame though it is. Quinn adjusts her stance, placing her hands on her lower back and stretching, stifling a yawn in the process. "Your belly!" He blurts out, immediately regretting it the moment it leaves his mouth.
"Yeah, disgusting, right?" She laughs and rubs her hands across the wide expanse of her waistline, the smile on her face this time genuine and wistful.
Artie has to catch his breath, remind himself to breathe as he continues to stare at her. "No. Not that. Just big. Does it hurt?"
"Not really. I just feel uncomfortable all the time. Part of me wants it over with and the other part..." Her eyes change, like she's looking inward or maybe far away. "She just kicked. Want to feel?" She reaches for his hand before he can answer and places it low on her abdomen, covering it with her own. The gentle press downward produces a flutter against the palm of his hand, followed by a push outward. His entire body tingles at the contact and he realizes she is an entire unknown world to him.
"That's amazing. She can hear you, you know? When you sing. I bet she can hear you." He snaps his mouth shut, fearing he's said too much. But Quinn continues to hold his hand in her own and nods. His head spins with what to say next and nothing makes sense and courage fails him. Should he be chivalrous and offer her a ride home? Visions of introducing her to his mom flit through his head, and then he thinks of the awkwardness of Quinn seeing the van. This wasn't an option, not today.
Eventually Quinn lets go of his hand and steps back. "I have to go. My turn to help Finn's mom with dinner."
Artie nods, still at a loss for words, which is no surprise. To him Quinn is the type of girl who inspires serenades in Spanish. And maybe one day he'll do it. But on that day he watched as she walked away and made plans for the future.
***
Artie knew he was going to get along with his step-dad right away. Jim was a good man that made his mother happy which was the most important thing. But Jim was more than a just his mom’s husband. He loved Artie too, and made a point of treating him like a regular kid. He made Artie do chores and took him to hockey games. When they moved into a new house a few years back it was Jim who hired a contractor to widen all the doorways and replace all the windows with lower frames. He was more than a father - he was Artie’s friend.
“Mom, I don’t want to drive a van.” Artie tried not to sound whiney, but knew he was failing.
“We discussed this, Arthur. Vans are the best vehicles for modifications, not to mention how much safer they are if you were to get into an accident.” His mother’s tone was kind, but she was unmoved by his argument.
“Lame. I’ll look lame driving around in one of those things.”
“So that’s what you think about me?” Her frown said more than it should. “I could stop driving it and you could take the bus.” Artie got the message loud and clear and decided to hold his tongue.
“Come on, Brenda. Artie is a teenage boy. Of course he wants a cool car to drive.” Jim glanced up from the magazine he was reading, as if he’d been ignoring the conversation going on while he sat there. “We’re lucky he isn’t asking for a motorcycle to go with that leather jacket he loves so much.”
“Please do not give him any ideas!” His mother rubbed her forehead and threw up her hands in defeat. “There is entirely too much testosterone in this room. I’m going to the store.” She grabbed her keys and walked toward the door. “In my lame van!” She threw over her shoulder before she shut the door.
“Go easy on your mom, kid. She’s got your best interests at heart.” Jim flipped the page of his magazine and whistled. “I’ll talk to her.”
***
He times everything just right; revs the engine of his black Volvo XC60 and pulls away from the curb. Quinn is walking home from school on the sidewalk ahead of him, her blond hair shining in the sun. Artie takes a breath to steady his nerves and hopes his heart doesn’t burst from beating too fast.
The car rolls smoothly to stop right next to her and Artie rolls down the window. “Want a ride home?” His voice cracks in the middle and he has to swallow and remind himself to breathe. Visions of Puck and Rachel in the locker room flit through his mind and he tells himself it’s a reminder that Quinn is free and not that he’s thinking about sex right that moment. Except he is totally thinking about it and Artie isn’t good at lying to himself.
Quinn stops walking and looks over her shoulder at him. “Artie?” She walks over and smiles, adjusting her books so she can lean over to see him. “Nice car. I didn’t know you drive.”
“I just got my driver's license.” He considers pulling it from his wallet to show her, but decides against it. “I saw you walking and I thought…” He runs out of words and his mind goes blank. This is crazy. Why would Quinn Fabray want to hang out with him? It’s a bad idea and Artie is regretting ever thinking he could pull this off.
“Okay.” She opens the door and slides in beside him and buckles her seat belt. “I live at-”
“I know where you live,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.
Quinn glances over and giggles. “Thanks, Artie. You are a sweetheart. I miss my car, but it was one of the things my parents insisted I give up before I moved back in.” Her laughter is gone now, replaced with a heavy sadness that fills the car like a thick fog.
Artie steers them onto the road and checks his mirrors. “High school is almost over. Things will get better. They always do.”
She glances over at him as if weighing his words. “How do you know?”
“Accidents happen, but I think they are just life’s way of breaking us in. If we survive we come out tougher, better people.” He turns the radio to a top forty station and taps his fingers on the steering wheel.
She rubs at her eyes with her fingertips and then leans over, kissing him on the cheek. It’s all he can do not to drive them off the road. “Thanks, Artie.”
It’s his turn to smile at her and he does. It’s a beginning.