Glee Fic: Model Minority (Stereotype A)
Title: The Model Minority (Stereotype A)
Author:
lookninjas
Pairing/Character(s): Mike Chang/Tina Cohen-Chang, the rest of the glee club (including April Rhodes), Mike's mother, Puck's mother and sister (briefly).
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4889
Spoilers: Up to and including episode 2.01, "Auditions"
Summary: At some point, everyone in the glee club has had to struggle with the choice between fitting in and breaking out, being popular or being themselves. Mike Chang is not an exception to this.
Notes: CCBA stands for Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Associations. They run a number of programs to help Chinese-Americans, including summer camps. I figured it made a little bit more sense than “LOL ASIAN CAMP LOL.” Initial beta-ing was done by TAB -- thanks, anon! You rock!
1.
This is true:
Mike Chang used to fail math class on purpose.
It's not that he doesn't like math; he actually likes it a lot. He's not a genius and probably won't ever get beyond "amateur math geek" status, but he knows enough about it to see how, once you get past the baby stuff like quadratic equations and limits and defining the derivative, it turns into this weird, abstract world that has a lot more to do with creativity and intuition (and sometimes blind, simple faith) than it does just balancing the checkbook or finding the volume of a solid. Plus, there's no physics without calculus, and he likes physics, too. He likes all that nerdy stuff.
He just doesn't like that he's supposed to like it.
Back when he was still trying to make the football thing work, the whole team would ask to copy his math homework. Even after Coach Tanaka called him out in front of the entire team for risking his eligibility by failing pre-calc, they still assumed he could give them the right answers. And okay, yeah, he could. But he didn't want to, because it wasn't fair. Not to him, and not to Matt either, because Matt was actually acing pre-calc and no one ever went to him for help, not once. Because they could never get over what Matt and Mike were supposed to be, and see them for who they actually were.
It actually made him hate math for a little while.
Glee club, strangely enough, makes him want to like it again. Because it’s a room full of nerds, and they all assume he’s got absolutely nothing to offer them. If someone has a problem with their homework, they ask Artie, or maybe Kurt (Kurt apparently speaks like ten different languages, which is kind of bizarre and kind of cool at the same time.) And Mike? He’s just another dumb jock. At best, a dumb jock who can dance.
It makes him want to be better, want to prove that he’s smart enough, nerdy enough, outcast enough to hang with the other kids.
He’s just not sure he remembers how, anymore.
2.
Every day, his mom makes him a baloney sandwich for lunch. White bread, crusts cut off. She puts an apple in the bag (she has a thing about apples being specifically American -- he doesn't quite understand it, but he's never argued), and sometimes there's a little bag of chips -- Ruffles or Doritos or Cheetos, something like that.
She's been doing this since he was ten, when some kids laughed at his tupperware container full of rice and he went home crying and begged his mom to just give him a normal, American lunch like a normal, American kid. She wasn't happy about it, she argued and sighed and rolled her eyes, but she relented. And then some. Every day since, baloney sandwiches.
Too bad he got sick of baloney after, like, a year. It kind of makes him feel queasy now, just thinking about lunchtime.
But he always eats his sandwich anyway.
3.
The first time he actually says anything in glee club, it's a Tuesday.
This week's assignment is about idols. Because what you like tells you about who you are, or something. And Kurt and Rachel have gotten into some kind of fight about Barbra Streisand vs. Judy Garland and song interpretations and relative icon status and... whatever, but it's boring everyone to tears. It's even boring Mr. Schue, apparently, because he calls out "All right, someone else!" and then points at Mike before Mike even realizes what's happening. "Mike Chang. Who's your idol?"
"Uh." He hates being put on the spot in classes like this. Even when he knows the answer (and he knows this one; this one is pretty much obvious), his mind goes blank the moment people start looking at him. And right now, everyone is looking at him.
He takes a deep breath.
"Michael Jackson?" he half-says, half-asks.
The glee club pretty much just erupts around him, then. Apparently, half the group thinks Michael is a legend and half the group thinks he's really creepy and Mercedes immediately says that they should sing "They Don't Care About Us," but Puck and Rachel don't want to because of anti-semitic stuff (Mike had no idea about that; he'll have to look it up later). Matt suggests they do "Scream" instead, which everyone is pretty much in favor of, but Mr. Schue nixes because it involves Janet Jackson and therefore also involves Janet Jackson's nipples in some way that makes no sense at all. The whole things ends up with Rachel doing a slowed-down version of "Billie Jean," which she sings while never breaking eye contact with Finn. It's actually kind of creepy, and makes Mike wish he just hadn’t said anything.
But what's worse is that, when the song is finally over and he's gathering his things to get out of the choir room, Rachel corners him. Her eyes are glittering madly, and her smile is way too huge. He's pretty sure she's going to eat him. "You don't talk much," she says. "In glee club, I mean. It's like you hardly ever say anything at all."
Mike blinks at her. He's pretty sure he should say something right now, just to prove her wrong, but she's kind of terrifying and the little pink bow on her head just makes the whole thing worse. Rachel Berry is totally dressed like a teenage Dolores Umbridge. It's probably only a matter of time until she moves to England and starts to torture small wizarding children.
"I just wanted you to know," she adds, and she's started to speak really slowly now, raising her voice until it's almost a shout. Rachel has powerful lungs, too; she could probably deafen him and still not be at full volume. "It's okay that you don't speak English that well. We'll all be glad to help you. In fact, I myself have often tutored --"
"Rachel," Mike says, and he can't even tell if he's offended right now. It's all just too surreal. "I speak English, okay? Seriously, I'm from Ann Arbor, not Hong Kong."
She stops short, staring at him, and for some reason it makes him feel weirdly guilty. She was only trying to be nice, after all. He probably shouldn’t be mad at her if she was just trying to be nice.
"Thanks, though," he says. "I'll... um. I'll think about it."
Then he hurries out of the room before she can say anything else.
4.
Mike wasn't sure his mom was down for the whole glee club thing. She really liked the idea of her son, the football player. She wanted him to go to University of Michigan and play football there and score winning touchdowns against Ohio State. Singing and dancing were never in her plan.
But when they have their first invitationals performance, she’s right there in the audience, clapping and cheering like a madwoman. She even comes backstage during intermission and starts hugging random gleeclubbers, telling them how good they all were, before fastening herself to Mike’s side and going on and on about how proud she is of him. And Mike figures it’s got to be true, and for the first time in months, he can breathe normally.
The happy glow lasts right up until April Rhodes weaves her way to Mike's side, looks down at his mom and says, "Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing? You're just like a China Doll! Get it? China Doll?"
Mike has never been this embarrassed for another human being in his entire life.
April doesn't seem to notice just how awkward the silence is; in fact, she leans even closer to Mike's mom and starts trying to lift up her long skirt. "Ooh, and I bet you've just got the tiniest little feet," she coos. "Not like these big ol' boats of mine! Let me just have a look here."
She actually keeps going even after Mike's mom tries to slap her hands away, and Mike has to dodge between them in order to stop some kind of old lady fight from happening. "Seriously, April, cut it out," he says, wrapping an arm around his mother and pulling her away. "Don't worry about her, Mom. She's drunk."
That earns him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. "You have a drunk girl on your glee club?" his mom asks. "Where is Mr. Schuester? I really need to --"
"You know," April says, resting a hand on Mike's shoulder, "I always did wonder how you got so tall. Was it like, some kind of steroids? Stretching? I mean, I've heard that there’s tall Chinese, but you --"
Fortunately, Mr. Schuester shows up and drags April out of the room before she can finish the sentence. Mike's mom shakes her head as she watches the two of them leave.
"Please don't make me quit glee club," Mike says. "I swear she's only on the team until Rachel comes back. And I'll, like, make Rachel come back if I have to, even though she freaks me out and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t quite believe that I actually speak English.” His mom gives him such a look then, and it terrifies him. “Seriously, Mom, please. I really like glee club."
“There’s a drunk girl running around lifting up skirts, and your teammates don’t know you can speak English, and you like this?” his mom repeats. She still doesn’t look impressed.
“Artie’s cool,” Mike blurts out. His mom glances over to where Artie is, thankfully, just sitting in his wheelchair talking to Tina, and not doing or saying anything embarrassing. “And it’s not -- Look, I like getting to be up on stage. I like -- you know, the singing and the dancing and everything. I don’t wanna quit just because people get weird sometimes. I’m used to it.”
His mom studies him for a long time. Then she sighs and slips her hand into his. “Fine. Do what you want. If you’re happy, that’s what’s important.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he says, and kisses her hair.
5.
Kurt and Mercedes start whistling and cheering, and Mike looks up, briefly distracted from the chem homework he should have finished last night but never got to. He expects to see something amazing and incredible, but it's just Tina, walking into the room with a big, embarrassed smile on her face. And not that Tina's not cool, because she is, but usually people don't cheer about it.
"Look at you, sweet sixteen!" Mercedes calls out, standing up and holding her arms out. "Happy birthday, mama!"
Oh. Well. That would explain the cheering.
"Thanks," Tina says, letting Mercedes give her a huge hug and then pass her over to Kurt. "Really, guys. Thank you."
"So I was thinking," Kurt says. "I know you didn't want to do like a big party or anything but. Girls' Night? My place? We can give each other pedicures and watch Sixteen Candles."
Up in the risers behind them, safely out of sight, Mike wrinkles his nose.
Then Tina does it too, and his heart does something kind of complicated in his chest. "Ugh," she says. "No offense, Kurt, but I hate that movie."
"You hate Molly Ringwald?" Kurt asks. "Bite your tongue."
"It's not Molly Ringwald," Tina says. "It's..." It's a visible effort for her to actually say the name. "Long Duk Dong. Seriously, that whole thing is just... so offensive. It's really gross. Can we maybe just... do something that doesn't involve a horrific stereotype?"
And she's not even talking to him, and she hasn't actually looked at him all week, and he's pretty sure that she's dating Artie or that she at least wants to, but at that moment, Mike is absolutely in love with Tina Cohen-Chang.
"Fine," Kurt sighs, with exaggerated patience. "Well. So much for ever watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s with you, then. It’s a shame; you really would look amazing with Holly Golightly streaks in your hair."
Mercedes slaps him in the shoulder so hard that he almost falls out of his seat. Mike can’t help it; he bursts out laughing.
The others turn around, staring at him.
He quickly hides his face in his textbook.
6.
Tina settles down in the chair next to him and folds her arms. "I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed in you."
He should be more upset by that, but the thing is that she barely ever talks to him, so it's hard not to be a little bit thrilled by the contact. "How come?" he asks.
"I mean, I kind of expected Finn and Puck to be weirded out by the Madonna thing," she says. "And Artie's just..." She shrugs. "But you're a dancer, Mike! How can you not like Madonna?"
"I do like Madonna," he says. Tina gives him a look. "No, really! Seriously, she's awesome, and I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass. It's just..." He sighs. "Look, there were like six girls dressed up as geisha on my way to US History today, okay? One of them actually bowed. It was... like..." He doesn't even have words for the kind of disappointed he is, so he just falls silent.
Tina studies him for a few seconds. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?" she asks, after a while.
"You mean it doesn't bother you?"
"It does," she says, quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, I guess I just... I didn’t even really notice. I was so busy being mad at Artie, and I just kind of...”
Her shoulder brushes against his. He kind of wants to hold her hand, but he doesn't. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, as sincerely as he can. “I mean, I don’t even know why it’s such a big deal, really. I just don’t --” He shrugs. “There’s just something really weird about it to me. And then, like, some of the guys start saying stuff, and the girls are just bowing and it’s just...” He shrugs again. “I don’t know.”
Tina pats his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says, and it sounds good. It sounds sincere. “I didn’t even notice.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “You’ve got a lot to think about. I mean, with the whole... being a girl thing, and everything.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “And I’m sorry if it seems like I’m trying to be all... you know, macho stuff, like Puck or something. I’m really not.”
“I know.” Tina gives him a small smile. “You’re a really nice guy, Mike. I’m glad you’re in the glee club now.”
“Me too,” he says.
She leans into his shoulder with a sigh, and his heart skips a little bit. He kind of wants to just sit there with her forever.
7.
The dim sum thing actually comes from Matt.
"Seriously, man, they do this thing with, like, barbecue, in a bun, and you've gotta try it," he says. "And the spare ribs!" When Mike doesn't say anything, Matt slaps him on the shoulder. "Come on, man. Seriously. Are you that scared of being seen as just another Asian kid that you can't even go out for dim sum?"
"I'm not scared," Mike says, although that's actually kind of a lie, something he's only just started to figure out. "It's just... I mean, really, dude. Chicken feet?" He omits the fact that his mom claims he loved chicken feet as a little kid. His mom says that about everything anyway, even if it’s something totally gross. He’s pretty sure she’s just making it up at this point.
"You have not lived until you've had chicken feet," Matt says. "I’m telling you, man. Stop being weird and just get in the car."
"I don't know," Mike says.
"Mike." Matt folds his arms, glares. He's not actually that good at glaring, but he gets points for trying. "It's just food, man. That's all it is. It's just food."
And for whatever reason (mostly because it's Matt), Mike sighs and gets in the car.
Apparently, his mom wasn’t lying about his love for chicken feet. Seriously, they’re amazing. So is everything else, and for half an hour or so, Mike can’t remember why he ever wanted to stop going out for dim sum.
“I can’t eat any of this,” Quinn huffs from three tables over. Mike cringes.
“Just give it a try, sweetheart.” Mrs. Puckerman’s voice is starting to sound a little strained around the edges, the sweetness wearing off. “There’s spring rolls. You like spring rolls, don’t you?”
“I don’t want spring rolls.” Quinn’s voice is getting sharper, higher. “I don’t want any of these things. This isn’t even food; it’s scraps. I’m pregnant! I’m going to have a baby!”
“Is that why you’re acting like a baby?” Puck’s sister asks.
Matt snickers into his tea, but Mike can’t quite bring himself to laugh.
There’s a long, cold silence, before Quinn finally snaps “I’ll wait in the car,” and hurries out of the restaurant. Puck’s heavier footsteps follow her, then stop at Matt and Mike’s table. A hand falls on Mike’s shoulder.
He cranes his neck, looking up. Puck seems... softer? More sincere, maybe? Tired, that’s for sure. He stares after Quinn for a few seconds before finally looking down at Mike, and Mike can’t help but feel bad for the guy. Quinn was a handful before the whole baby-mama drama, and now she’s got that hormonal boost going.
“Sorry, dude,” Puck says. “I don’t think she meant it, I think it’s just... you know.”
“Yeah,” Mike says. “Don’t worry about it. It’s cool.”
He tries to convince himself that it’s true as Puck continues on his way out the building. It’s hard, though.
This isn’t even food. It’s scraps.
Matt, completely unbothered, takes a huge bite out of one of his dumplings. Broth drips down his chin. “Do not let Quinn Fabray get to you, man,” he says, still chewing.
“I’m not,” Mike says, and tells himself that he’s staring down at his plate because he can’t deal with the sight of chewed food in Matt’s mouth. But that’s only about half true.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Matt says. “Seriously. Like, no poker face at all.” He turns to look back at the doorway. “We should invite him along next time. The man looks seriously stressed.”
“Yeah,” Mike says, surprising even himself. Just because he actually does kind of like the food here doesn’t mean he wants to make it a thing. But going to the same restaurant twice isn’t making it a thing. Is it? “Like, bros’ night out, or something.”
Matt grins at him. “Yeah,” he says. “Bros’ night out. Get some good food, relax... We could, like, do it once a month. You know, make it into a thing.”
Mike chokes on his tea, and Matt has to come around the other side of the table to hit him on the back until his lungs clear out. And maybe it’s the lack of oxygen making him loopy, or like MSG or something, but when Mike can finally talk again, the first words out of his mouth are “Yeah. Yeah, let’s make this a thing.”
8.
His mother sighs. "Mike," she says. "The last time we tried to get you interested in CCBA camp, you burst into tears, locked yourself in your room, and swore that you wouldn't come out until we promised not to send you. Now you want to be a counselor?"
"That was when I was, like, nine," he says, and keeps right on setting the table. "It’s totally different now. Anyway, they've got this new art program that Tina told me about. I'd be, like, teaching dance and stuff. Not without supervision or anything, but you know, still. I'd be dancing. And, like, working with kids, and I like kids, mostly. It'd be good."
When he turns to check his mom’s reaction she's giving him a knowing look, hands resting on her hips. "Tina told you about it?" she asks, smiling.
"Mom," he groans, and turns to stare intently at the tablecloth.
"I just think it's interesting that you don't want to go to CCBA camp until Tina tells you that they've got a new art program."
"Seriously, it's not --"
"And weren't you saying the other day that you saw Tina and her parents going out for dim sum together and you thought that we should all go get dim sum too?"
"I saw Tina and her parents out getting dim sum because I was already there having dinner with Matt and Puck!" Mike protests.
"It's an interesting coincidence," his mom says. "That's all."
For some reason, the way she says it makes Mike feel absolutely horrible. "It's not about Tina," he says. "It's really not. I just... I'm really tired of trying to be like everyone else all the time, you know? I tried it and it didn't work and I just... I just want to go back to being me again."
There's a long silence. Then his mom comes out of the kitchen, comes up alongside him and tucks herself under his arm. "Then do it," she says. "Whatever makes you happy, you should do it." He hugs her close, and she rests her head against his shoulder. "I’m very proud of you, Mike.”
“Thanks,” he says, and blinks hard so he doesn’t tear up at that.
“It's kind of a shame, though," she says. "I like Tina."
Mike blushes.
9.
They should both be in their cabins, watching over their campers, ready to take on the nightmares and bed-wetting and homesickness and ghost story competitions that are traditional parts of every kid’s summer camp experience. Instead, they're lying next to each other, on the grass, staring up at the stars.
It is totally cliched.
Mike totally doesn't care.
“Have you ever watched Firefly?” Tina asks, out of nowhere.
Mike lets his head flop over to the side, looking at her. Her eyes are still on the stars. “That’s, like, the same guy who did Buffy, right?” he asks. “I tried to like that show, but... I don’t know. They never really talked like people, or something.”
“Yeah,” Tina says. “I don’t know. Artie was having a Firefly marathon before I left for camp, so I watched it with him. It’s weird. It’s like, there’s all this Chinese stuff, and the signs are in Mandarin, and people swear in Mandarin, kind of? But there’s no Chinese people in it. Or there are, but they’re all in the background.”
“Huh,” Mike says.
“And like, ninety percent of the references are Chinese,” Tina adds, “and then there’s geisha. Just out of nowhere. I don’t know -- it doesn’t even make any sense. Like, if it’s supposed to be a mix of different Asian stuff, that’s fine. But if it’s all China China China China and then suddenly geisha, that’s just... totally uncool, you know?”
For some reason, Mike starts laughing. Tina smacks him in the shoulder, but she doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt. “I’m sorry,” Mike says, but he’s still laughing. “It’s just like... I don’t know. I feel like I’m a bad influence on you or something. Like, you didn’t care about this at all, and now you’re totally bugging out over it.”
“Says the guy who never went to CCBA camp before,” Tina says. “Seriously, you were this popular football player, and then Sue Sylvester called you Other Asian, and now you’re all militant?”
“Actually, I used to go to CCBA camp every year,” Mike admits. It feels weird, saying it out loud to someone else. He’s talked about it with his parents, kind of, but that’s different -- they know all the parts of him. Tina just knows the jock, the glee kid. She doesn’t know about the rest, and he’s not so sure he wants to let her see it. But he’s been storing this up for years, and he’s just gotta tell someone. “Like, when I was little and stuff? I used to do the language classes and the CCBA camps and family dim sum night and everything.”
Tina’s hand slides down his arm, her fingers brushing against his, then twining, holding. “Why’d you stop?” she asks, quietly.
“I just... I got sick of being weird, you know? Like, I had the weird face and the weird eyes and the weird mom with the weird accent, and I ate weird food and did weird stuff... I just wanted to be normal for a change. Like everyone else.” Tina’s hand tightens around his. “I guess I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. It felt... It felt like lying.”
“Yeah,” Tina says, quietly.
The two of them lie together in silence for a while, looking up at the stars. Even with Tina holding his hand, Mike’s kind of tempted to run away and hide. He’s pretty much never told anyone that much about himself, and the whole thing just makes him feel stupid. Like, he knows now that he shouldn’t have worried so much about what other people thought. He should’ve just been himself, the way Tina is, the way Kurt and Mercedes are. He just --
“I was faking my stutter,” Tina says, suddenly. “I didn’t want to have to talk to anyone, so I just pretended I couldn’t.”
Mike blinks at the stars. “Oh,” he says.
“Just... You know, you’re not the only one who pretended to be something you’re not in order to fit in. Like, Kurt dated Brittany, and Mercedes joined the Cheerios and everything, and I faked my stutter. We’ve all done stuff like that, you know?”
“Yeah,” Mike says. “I guess you’re right.” And he really does feel a little bit better, thinking about it.
“Of course I’m right,” Tina says, and squeezes his hand. “I’m always right.”
He grins at her, and she smiles back. There’s a moment where he’s still scared, because he feels like he’s on the brink of doing something huge and stupid, but then he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says “I really want to kiss you right now.”
Tina rolls her eyes. “Finally,” she mutters.
The next thing he knows, she’s on top of him and her hair is getting in the way and there’s a tree root digging into his back and none of that matters, because Tina Cohen-Chang is totally kissing the breath right out of him on a warm summer night at CCBA camp and nothing has ever felt this natural in his whole entire life.
10.
They’re doing homework over at Tina’s house when she lets out a groan and shoves her books off the bed. “Ugh! God, I hate Calculus!”
Mike pushes his history notes aside (how is anyone supposed to remember all these names?) and grabs her textbook off the floor. “Let me help you,” he says. When she gives him a funny look, he laughs. “Seriously, Tina. Factoring polynomials is kind of my thing.”
He’s already got a mechanical pencil and a piece of graph paper out before she asks, “Didn’t you almost fail pre-calc last year?”
He meets her eyes steadily. “Didn’t you have a stutter?”
She smacks him in the shoulder, but she doesn’t do it very hard. “All right, Einstein,” she says. “Show me what you got.”
11.
This is true:
Mike Chang used to fail math class on purpose.
And then he stopped doing it.
It didn’t change the world or anything, but it made him a little bit happier.
Author:
lookninjas
Pairing/Character(s): Mike Chang/Tina Cohen-Chang, the rest of the glee club (including April Rhodes), Mike's mother, Puck's mother and sister (briefly).
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4889
Spoilers: Up to and including episode 2.01, "Auditions"
Summary: At some point, everyone in the glee club has had to struggle with the choice between fitting in and breaking out, being popular or being themselves. Mike Chang is not an exception to this.
Notes: CCBA stands for Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Associations. They run a number of programs to help Chinese-Americans, including summer camps. I figured it made a little bit more sense than “LOL ASIAN CAMP LOL.” Initial beta-ing was done by TAB -- thanks, anon! You rock!
1.
This is true:
Mike Chang used to fail math class on purpose.
It's not that he doesn't like math; he actually likes it a lot. He's not a genius and probably won't ever get beyond "amateur math geek" status, but he knows enough about it to see how, once you get past the baby stuff like quadratic equations and limits and defining the derivative, it turns into this weird, abstract world that has a lot more to do with creativity and intuition (and sometimes blind, simple faith) than it does just balancing the checkbook or finding the volume of a solid. Plus, there's no physics without calculus, and he likes physics, too. He likes all that nerdy stuff.
He just doesn't like that he's supposed to like it.
Back when he was still trying to make the football thing work, the whole team would ask to copy his math homework. Even after Coach Tanaka called him out in front of the entire team for risking his eligibility by failing pre-calc, they still assumed he could give them the right answers. And okay, yeah, he could. But he didn't want to, because it wasn't fair. Not to him, and not to Matt either, because Matt was actually acing pre-calc and no one ever went to him for help, not once. Because they could never get over what Matt and Mike were supposed to be, and see them for who they actually were.
It actually made him hate math for a little while.
Glee club, strangely enough, makes him want to like it again. Because it’s a room full of nerds, and they all assume he’s got absolutely nothing to offer them. If someone has a problem with their homework, they ask Artie, or maybe Kurt (Kurt apparently speaks like ten different languages, which is kind of bizarre and kind of cool at the same time.) And Mike? He’s just another dumb jock. At best, a dumb jock who can dance.
It makes him want to be better, want to prove that he’s smart enough, nerdy enough, outcast enough to hang with the other kids.
He’s just not sure he remembers how, anymore.
2.
Every day, his mom makes him a baloney sandwich for lunch. White bread, crusts cut off. She puts an apple in the bag (she has a thing about apples being specifically American -- he doesn't quite understand it, but he's never argued), and sometimes there's a little bag of chips -- Ruffles or Doritos or Cheetos, something like that.
She's been doing this since he was ten, when some kids laughed at his tupperware container full of rice and he went home crying and begged his mom to just give him a normal, American lunch like a normal, American kid. She wasn't happy about it, she argued and sighed and rolled her eyes, but she relented. And then some. Every day since, baloney sandwiches.
Too bad he got sick of baloney after, like, a year. It kind of makes him feel queasy now, just thinking about lunchtime.
But he always eats his sandwich anyway.
3.
The first time he actually says anything in glee club, it's a Tuesday.
This week's assignment is about idols. Because what you like tells you about who you are, or something. And Kurt and Rachel have gotten into some kind of fight about Barbra Streisand vs. Judy Garland and song interpretations and relative icon status and... whatever, but it's boring everyone to tears. It's even boring Mr. Schue, apparently, because he calls out "All right, someone else!" and then points at Mike before Mike even realizes what's happening. "Mike Chang. Who's your idol?"
"Uh." He hates being put on the spot in classes like this. Even when he knows the answer (and he knows this one; this one is pretty much obvious), his mind goes blank the moment people start looking at him. And right now, everyone is looking at him.
He takes a deep breath.
"Michael Jackson?" he half-says, half-asks.
The glee club pretty much just erupts around him, then. Apparently, half the group thinks Michael is a legend and half the group thinks he's really creepy and Mercedes immediately says that they should sing "They Don't Care About Us," but Puck and Rachel don't want to because of anti-semitic stuff (Mike had no idea about that; he'll have to look it up later). Matt suggests they do "Scream" instead, which everyone is pretty much in favor of, but Mr. Schue nixes because it involves Janet Jackson and therefore also involves Janet Jackson's nipples in some way that makes no sense at all. The whole things ends up with Rachel doing a slowed-down version of "Billie Jean," which she sings while never breaking eye contact with Finn. It's actually kind of creepy, and makes Mike wish he just hadn’t said anything.
But what's worse is that, when the song is finally over and he's gathering his things to get out of the choir room, Rachel corners him. Her eyes are glittering madly, and her smile is way too huge. He's pretty sure she's going to eat him. "You don't talk much," she says. "In glee club, I mean. It's like you hardly ever say anything at all."
Mike blinks at her. He's pretty sure he should say something right now, just to prove her wrong, but she's kind of terrifying and the little pink bow on her head just makes the whole thing worse. Rachel Berry is totally dressed like a teenage Dolores Umbridge. It's probably only a matter of time until she moves to England and starts to torture small wizarding children.
"I just wanted you to know," she adds, and she's started to speak really slowly now, raising her voice until it's almost a shout. Rachel has powerful lungs, too; she could probably deafen him and still not be at full volume. "It's okay that you don't speak English that well. We'll all be glad to help you. In fact, I myself have often tutored --"
"Rachel," Mike says, and he can't even tell if he's offended right now. It's all just too surreal. "I speak English, okay? Seriously, I'm from Ann Arbor, not Hong Kong."
She stops short, staring at him, and for some reason it makes him feel weirdly guilty. She was only trying to be nice, after all. He probably shouldn’t be mad at her if she was just trying to be nice.
"Thanks, though," he says. "I'll... um. I'll think about it."
Then he hurries out of the room before she can say anything else.
4.
Mike wasn't sure his mom was down for the whole glee club thing. She really liked the idea of her son, the football player. She wanted him to go to University of Michigan and play football there and score winning touchdowns against Ohio State. Singing and dancing were never in her plan.
But when they have their first invitationals performance, she’s right there in the audience, clapping and cheering like a madwoman. She even comes backstage during intermission and starts hugging random gleeclubbers, telling them how good they all were, before fastening herself to Mike’s side and going on and on about how proud she is of him. And Mike figures it’s got to be true, and for the first time in months, he can breathe normally.
The happy glow lasts right up until April Rhodes weaves her way to Mike's side, looks down at his mom and says, "Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing? You're just like a China Doll! Get it? China Doll?"
Mike has never been this embarrassed for another human being in his entire life.
April doesn't seem to notice just how awkward the silence is; in fact, she leans even closer to Mike's mom and starts trying to lift up her long skirt. "Ooh, and I bet you've just got the tiniest little feet," she coos. "Not like these big ol' boats of mine! Let me just have a look here."
She actually keeps going even after Mike's mom tries to slap her hands away, and Mike has to dodge between them in order to stop some kind of old lady fight from happening. "Seriously, April, cut it out," he says, wrapping an arm around his mother and pulling her away. "Don't worry about her, Mom. She's drunk."
That earns him a suspiciously raised eyebrow. "You have a drunk girl on your glee club?" his mom asks. "Where is Mr. Schuester? I really need to --"
"You know," April says, resting a hand on Mike's shoulder, "I always did wonder how you got so tall. Was it like, some kind of steroids? Stretching? I mean, I've heard that there’s tall Chinese, but you --"
Fortunately, Mr. Schuester shows up and drags April out of the room before she can finish the sentence. Mike's mom shakes her head as she watches the two of them leave.
"Please don't make me quit glee club," Mike says. "I swear she's only on the team until Rachel comes back. And I'll, like, make Rachel come back if I have to, even though she freaks me out and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t quite believe that I actually speak English.” His mom gives him such a look then, and it terrifies him. “Seriously, Mom, please. I really like glee club."
“There’s a drunk girl running around lifting up skirts, and your teammates don’t know you can speak English, and you like this?” his mom repeats. She still doesn’t look impressed.
“Artie’s cool,” Mike blurts out. His mom glances over to where Artie is, thankfully, just sitting in his wheelchair talking to Tina, and not doing or saying anything embarrassing. “And it’s not -- Look, I like getting to be up on stage. I like -- you know, the singing and the dancing and everything. I don’t wanna quit just because people get weird sometimes. I’m used to it.”
His mom studies him for a long time. Then she sighs and slips her hand into his. “Fine. Do what you want. If you’re happy, that’s what’s important.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he says, and kisses her hair.
5.
Kurt and Mercedes start whistling and cheering, and Mike looks up, briefly distracted from the chem homework he should have finished last night but never got to. He expects to see something amazing and incredible, but it's just Tina, walking into the room with a big, embarrassed smile on her face. And not that Tina's not cool, because she is, but usually people don't cheer about it.
"Look at you, sweet sixteen!" Mercedes calls out, standing up and holding her arms out. "Happy birthday, mama!"
Oh. Well. That would explain the cheering.
"Thanks," Tina says, letting Mercedes give her a huge hug and then pass her over to Kurt. "Really, guys. Thank you."
"So I was thinking," Kurt says. "I know you didn't want to do like a big party or anything but. Girls' Night? My place? We can give each other pedicures and watch Sixteen Candles."
Up in the risers behind them, safely out of sight, Mike wrinkles his nose.
Then Tina does it too, and his heart does something kind of complicated in his chest. "Ugh," she says. "No offense, Kurt, but I hate that movie."
"You hate Molly Ringwald?" Kurt asks. "Bite your tongue."
"It's not Molly Ringwald," Tina says. "It's..." It's a visible effort for her to actually say the name. "Long Duk Dong. Seriously, that whole thing is just... so offensive. It's really gross. Can we maybe just... do something that doesn't involve a horrific stereotype?"
And she's not even talking to him, and she hasn't actually looked at him all week, and he's pretty sure that she's dating Artie or that she at least wants to, but at that moment, Mike is absolutely in love with Tina Cohen-Chang.
"Fine," Kurt sighs, with exaggerated patience. "Well. So much for ever watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s with you, then. It’s a shame; you really would look amazing with Holly Golightly streaks in your hair."
Mercedes slaps him in the shoulder so hard that he almost falls out of his seat. Mike can’t help it; he bursts out laughing.
The others turn around, staring at him.
He quickly hides his face in his textbook.
6.
Tina settles down in the chair next to him and folds her arms. "I have to say, I'm kind of disappointed in you."
He should be more upset by that, but the thing is that she barely ever talks to him, so it's hard not to be a little bit thrilled by the contact. "How come?" he asks.
"I mean, I kind of expected Finn and Puck to be weirded out by the Madonna thing," she says. "And Artie's just..." She shrugs. "But you're a dancer, Mike! How can you not like Madonna?"
"I do like Madonna," he says. Tina gives him a look. "No, really! Seriously, she's awesome, and I'm pretty sure she could kick my ass. It's just..." He sighs. "Look, there were like six girls dressed up as geisha on my way to US History today, okay? One of them actually bowed. It was... like..." He doesn't even have words for the kind of disappointed he is, so he just falls silent.
Tina studies him for a few seconds. "That really bothers you, doesn't it?" she asks, after a while.
"You mean it doesn't bother you?"
"It does," she says, quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, I guess I just... I didn’t even really notice. I was so busy being mad at Artie, and I just kind of...”
Her shoulder brushes against his. He kind of wants to hold her hand, but he doesn't. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, as sincerely as he can. “I mean, I don’t even know why it’s such a big deal, really. I just don’t --” He shrugs. “There’s just something really weird about it to me. And then, like, some of the guys start saying stuff, and the girls are just bowing and it’s just...” He shrugs again. “I don’t know.”
Tina pats his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says, and it sounds good. It sounds sincere. “I didn’t even notice.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “You’ve got a lot to think about. I mean, with the whole... being a girl thing, and everything.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “And I’m sorry if it seems like I’m trying to be all... you know, macho stuff, like Puck or something. I’m really not.”
“I know.” Tina gives him a small smile. “You’re a really nice guy, Mike. I’m glad you’re in the glee club now.”
“Me too,” he says.
She leans into his shoulder with a sigh, and his heart skips a little bit. He kind of wants to just sit there with her forever.
7.
The dim sum thing actually comes from Matt.
"Seriously, man, they do this thing with, like, barbecue, in a bun, and you've gotta try it," he says. "And the spare ribs!" When Mike doesn't say anything, Matt slaps him on the shoulder. "Come on, man. Seriously. Are you that scared of being seen as just another Asian kid that you can't even go out for dim sum?"
"I'm not scared," Mike says, although that's actually kind of a lie, something he's only just started to figure out. "It's just... I mean, really, dude. Chicken feet?" He omits the fact that his mom claims he loved chicken feet as a little kid. His mom says that about everything anyway, even if it’s something totally gross. He’s pretty sure she’s just making it up at this point.
"You have not lived until you've had chicken feet," Matt says. "I’m telling you, man. Stop being weird and just get in the car."
"I don't know," Mike says.
"Mike." Matt folds his arms, glares. He's not actually that good at glaring, but he gets points for trying. "It's just food, man. That's all it is. It's just food."
And for whatever reason (mostly because it's Matt), Mike sighs and gets in the car.
Apparently, his mom wasn’t lying about his love for chicken feet. Seriously, they’re amazing. So is everything else, and for half an hour or so, Mike can’t remember why he ever wanted to stop going out for dim sum.
“I can’t eat any of this,” Quinn huffs from three tables over. Mike cringes.
“Just give it a try, sweetheart.” Mrs. Puckerman’s voice is starting to sound a little strained around the edges, the sweetness wearing off. “There’s spring rolls. You like spring rolls, don’t you?”
“I don’t want spring rolls.” Quinn’s voice is getting sharper, higher. “I don’t want any of these things. This isn’t even food; it’s scraps. I’m pregnant! I’m going to have a baby!”
“Is that why you’re acting like a baby?” Puck’s sister asks.
Matt snickers into his tea, but Mike can’t quite bring himself to laugh.
There’s a long, cold silence, before Quinn finally snaps “I’ll wait in the car,” and hurries out of the restaurant. Puck’s heavier footsteps follow her, then stop at Matt and Mike’s table. A hand falls on Mike’s shoulder.
He cranes his neck, looking up. Puck seems... softer? More sincere, maybe? Tired, that’s for sure. He stares after Quinn for a few seconds before finally looking down at Mike, and Mike can’t help but feel bad for the guy. Quinn was a handful before the whole baby-mama drama, and now she’s got that hormonal boost going.
“Sorry, dude,” Puck says. “I don’t think she meant it, I think it’s just... you know.”
“Yeah,” Mike says. “Don’t worry about it. It’s cool.”
He tries to convince himself that it’s true as Puck continues on his way out the building. It’s hard, though.
This isn’t even food. It’s scraps.
Matt, completely unbothered, takes a huge bite out of one of his dumplings. Broth drips down his chin. “Do not let Quinn Fabray get to you, man,” he says, still chewing.
“I’m not,” Mike says, and tells himself that he’s staring down at his plate because he can’t deal with the sight of chewed food in Matt’s mouth. But that’s only about half true.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Matt says. “Seriously. Like, no poker face at all.” He turns to look back at the doorway. “We should invite him along next time. The man looks seriously stressed.”
“Yeah,” Mike says, surprising even himself. Just because he actually does kind of like the food here doesn’t mean he wants to make it a thing. But going to the same restaurant twice isn’t making it a thing. Is it? “Like, bros’ night out, or something.”
Matt grins at him. “Yeah,” he says. “Bros’ night out. Get some good food, relax... We could, like, do it once a month. You know, make it into a thing.”
Mike chokes on his tea, and Matt has to come around the other side of the table to hit him on the back until his lungs clear out. And maybe it’s the lack of oxygen making him loopy, or like MSG or something, but when Mike can finally talk again, the first words out of his mouth are “Yeah. Yeah, let’s make this a thing.”
8.
His mother sighs. "Mike," she says. "The last time we tried to get you interested in CCBA camp, you burst into tears, locked yourself in your room, and swore that you wouldn't come out until we promised not to send you. Now you want to be a counselor?"
"That was when I was, like, nine," he says, and keeps right on setting the table. "It’s totally different now. Anyway, they've got this new art program that Tina told me about. I'd be, like, teaching dance and stuff. Not without supervision or anything, but you know, still. I'd be dancing. And, like, working with kids, and I like kids, mostly. It'd be good."
When he turns to check his mom’s reaction she's giving him a knowing look, hands resting on her hips. "Tina told you about it?" she asks, smiling.
"Mom," he groans, and turns to stare intently at the tablecloth.
"I just think it's interesting that you don't want to go to CCBA camp until Tina tells you that they've got a new art program."
"Seriously, it's not --"
"And weren't you saying the other day that you saw Tina and her parents going out for dim sum together and you thought that we should all go get dim sum too?"
"I saw Tina and her parents out getting dim sum because I was already there having dinner with Matt and Puck!" Mike protests.
"It's an interesting coincidence," his mom says. "That's all."
For some reason, the way she says it makes Mike feel absolutely horrible. "It's not about Tina," he says. "It's really not. I just... I'm really tired of trying to be like everyone else all the time, you know? I tried it and it didn't work and I just... I just want to go back to being me again."
There's a long silence. Then his mom comes out of the kitchen, comes up alongside him and tucks herself under his arm. "Then do it," she says. "Whatever makes you happy, you should do it." He hugs her close, and she rests her head against his shoulder. "I’m very proud of you, Mike.”
“Thanks,” he says, and blinks hard so he doesn’t tear up at that.
“It's kind of a shame, though," she says. "I like Tina."
Mike blushes.
9.
They should both be in their cabins, watching over their campers, ready to take on the nightmares and bed-wetting and homesickness and ghost story competitions that are traditional parts of every kid’s summer camp experience. Instead, they're lying next to each other, on the grass, staring up at the stars.
It is totally cliched.
Mike totally doesn't care.
“Have you ever watched Firefly?” Tina asks, out of nowhere.
Mike lets his head flop over to the side, looking at her. Her eyes are still on the stars. “That’s, like, the same guy who did Buffy, right?” he asks. “I tried to like that show, but... I don’t know. They never really talked like people, or something.”
“Yeah,” Tina says. “I don’t know. Artie was having a Firefly marathon before I left for camp, so I watched it with him. It’s weird. It’s like, there’s all this Chinese stuff, and the signs are in Mandarin, and people swear in Mandarin, kind of? But there’s no Chinese people in it. Or there are, but they’re all in the background.”
“Huh,” Mike says.
“And like, ninety percent of the references are Chinese,” Tina adds, “and then there’s geisha. Just out of nowhere. I don’t know -- it doesn’t even make any sense. Like, if it’s supposed to be a mix of different Asian stuff, that’s fine. But if it’s all China China China China and then suddenly geisha, that’s just... totally uncool, you know?”
For some reason, Mike starts laughing. Tina smacks him in the shoulder, but she doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt. “I’m sorry,” Mike says, but he’s still laughing. “It’s just like... I don’t know. I feel like I’m a bad influence on you or something. Like, you didn’t care about this at all, and now you’re totally bugging out over it.”
“Says the guy who never went to CCBA camp before,” Tina says. “Seriously, you were this popular football player, and then Sue Sylvester called you Other Asian, and now you’re all militant?”
“Actually, I used to go to CCBA camp every year,” Mike admits. It feels weird, saying it out loud to someone else. He’s talked about it with his parents, kind of, but that’s different -- they know all the parts of him. Tina just knows the jock, the glee kid. She doesn’t know about the rest, and he’s not so sure he wants to let her see it. But he’s been storing this up for years, and he’s just gotta tell someone. “Like, when I was little and stuff? I used to do the language classes and the CCBA camps and family dim sum night and everything.”
Tina’s hand slides down his arm, her fingers brushing against his, then twining, holding. “Why’d you stop?” she asks, quietly.
“I just... I got sick of being weird, you know? Like, I had the weird face and the weird eyes and the weird mom with the weird accent, and I ate weird food and did weird stuff... I just wanted to be normal for a change. Like everyone else.” Tina’s hand tightens around his. “I guess I didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. It felt... It felt like lying.”
“Yeah,” Tina says, quietly.
The two of them lie together in silence for a while, looking up at the stars. Even with Tina holding his hand, Mike’s kind of tempted to run away and hide. He’s pretty much never told anyone that much about himself, and the whole thing just makes him feel stupid. Like, he knows now that he shouldn’t have worried so much about what other people thought. He should’ve just been himself, the way Tina is, the way Kurt and Mercedes are. He just --
“I was faking my stutter,” Tina says, suddenly. “I didn’t want to have to talk to anyone, so I just pretended I couldn’t.”
Mike blinks at the stars. “Oh,” he says.
“Just... You know, you’re not the only one who pretended to be something you’re not in order to fit in. Like, Kurt dated Brittany, and Mercedes joined the Cheerios and everything, and I faked my stutter. We’ve all done stuff like that, you know?”
“Yeah,” Mike says. “I guess you’re right.” And he really does feel a little bit better, thinking about it.
“Of course I’m right,” Tina says, and squeezes his hand. “I’m always right.”
He grins at her, and she smiles back. There’s a moment where he’s still scared, because he feels like he’s on the brink of doing something huge and stupid, but then he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says “I really want to kiss you right now.”
Tina rolls her eyes. “Finally,” she mutters.
The next thing he knows, she’s on top of him and her hair is getting in the way and there’s a tree root digging into his back and none of that matters, because Tina Cohen-Chang is totally kissing the breath right out of him on a warm summer night at CCBA camp and nothing has ever felt this natural in his whole entire life.
10.
They’re doing homework over at Tina’s house when she lets out a groan and shoves her books off the bed. “Ugh! God, I hate Calculus!”
Mike pushes his history notes aside (how is anyone supposed to remember all these names?) and grabs her textbook off the floor. “Let me help you,” he says. When she gives him a funny look, he laughs. “Seriously, Tina. Factoring polynomials is kind of my thing.”
He’s already got a mechanical pencil and a piece of graph paper out before she asks, “Didn’t you almost fail pre-calc last year?”
He meets her eyes steadily. “Didn’t you have a stutter?”
She smacks him in the shoulder, but she doesn’t do it very hard. “All right, Einstein,” she says. “Show me what you got.”
11.
This is true:
Mike Chang used to fail math class on purpose.
And then he stopped doing it.
It didn’t change the world or anything, but it made him a little bit happier.