She hates this. Middle school was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be the place where she could have fun and be herself and not have to worry about anything. But as Mercedes Jones is slowly finding out, middle school was the farthest thing from fun. She trudges up to the bleachers again, clutching her brown paper bag with her lunch inside to her chest, sitting underneath the cold metal bleachers.
After lunch is over, she stands up, walking down the path into the school, where she moves through the hallways, invisible to everyone around her. She smiles at the teachers, reassuring them that she's adjusting fine, and lies through her teeth when her mom asks her how school is going. She just can't click with the other kids. She spends her time in class busying herself with work she knows doesn't need to get done, but it's the only thing keeping the tears at bay.
She sits underneath the bleachers again, feeling the anger and frustration building up in her. She glanced up at the sky through the slats of the bleachers and opened her mouth, singing with anger and fear and hurt all wrapped up in the music she's making.
Take a little look at the life of Miss Always Invisible, look a little closer, I really, really want you to put yourself in her shoes, take another look at the face of Miss Always Invisible, she sings loud and clear, unafraid of anyone hearing her. No one sits around here. This is the one place where she's unafraid of being judged or teased or laughed at. This is the one place in this school where she feels safe.
She's tried. She tried so hard in the first few weeks, sitting near the pretty girls, the popular ones, Quinn, Brittany and Santana. They had seemed nice at first, and she thought she might finally be making friends. As soon as Mercedes had started feeling comfortable, they started ripping her to shreds, criticizing everything about her from her hair to her shoes. When they were done, they laughed coldly and flounced away, meaner than Mercedes thought kids could be. She moved quickly down the stairs but she fell, adding insult to injury. Everyone laughed. She didn't remember who, nor did she care to.
Thinking about the moment now makes her want to scream, or hit something, or break down and cry. Instead she opens her mouth and sings again; letting her voice channel everything she's feeling. It's not until she finishes that she even notices there's someone sitting in the bleachers above her. He claps for her, and she looks up, startled.
"You're good." He says, smiling down at her. She blinks twice, unable to speak.
"Come sit up here with me. You're going to get your clothes all dirty if you stay down there." He says, glancing at her clothes and the grass she was sitting on. Silently she moves, grabbing her lunch and climbing the bleachers, taking a seat next to the boy.
"What's your name?" He asks her, pulling out a neat container stacked with carrots.
"Mercedes Jones." She says quietly, realizing that it's the first time since she's come to this school that another student has asked for her name.
"I'm Kurt Hummel. I think we're going to be good friends, Mercedes Jones." He says it with such a confidence that she believes him, and for the first time in a long time, Mercedes smiles.