Alarm goes off at seven

And you head uptown

Jericho awoke, disgruntled. The sound of Monday's alarm clock dragging him from the alien hunting dream. He liked the alien hunting dream because there always chocolate cream pie at the end of it. It was bizarre and he didn't really believe in dream interpretation anyways enough to wonder what the pie actually meant.

You put in your eight hours

For the powers that have always been

Yawning, he sat up as he quelled the clanging bells of his ancient alarm clock. He could see the start of the sun poking through his blinds. Rising with a slight groan from the stiff mattress, Jericho put his hand on his bare back. He was wearing the last pair of boxers he had, which meant leaving himself a sticky note to do laundry when he got home tonight.

Then you go downtown

Where the folks are broke

His hair was sticking up in funny directions. The light orange was already visible in slats as the sun poked through. Padding down to the bathroom, Jericho yawned again and sniffed the air, hoping to smell Strawberry Pop Tarts. No dice, yet again. Shaking his head, he applied liberal amounts of water until the hair smoothed back into a satisfying shape for him. Closing the door for just a moment, he started the day with his bladder.

You go downtown

Where your life's a joke

The house was silent as he changed into his Monday jeans. He had his jeans for the week, his slacks for work and his weekend gear all separated. He knew that when Mom came in later to "clean", she would separate for him and he just didn't want to deal with the hassle of the lecture, so he did what he needed to do.

You go downtown

Where you spend your token and you go

Home on skid row

Cold cereal again, not a box of pop tarts in sight. He was a week before the next paycheck. Luckily, it was his free week. He didn't pay for the heating or the water this time around and that made him happy. Folding his clothes among the books he had brought home to study over the weekend, Jericho ate his cereal in near silence, the sound of Honey Bunches of Oats the only crunch in the house.

Yes, you go downtown

Where the cabs don't stop

Downtown-where the food is slop

Downtown-where the hot heads flop in the snow

Walking to school, Jericho was used to the cat calls. Whistles from the football team, an occasional moon, but he was luckier than the one guy. Dumpster Boy, as he had never been introduced to the kid, was a regular visitor to his third period study hall. Only one more year, that was Jericho's sighing mantra. He wanted to be free, though of what exactly he was not clear.

Poor, all my life I've always been poor

I keep asking God what I'm for

And he tells me, gee, I'm not sure

Sweep that floor kid

The plan was to overload himself, graduate a semester early. Eat lunch by yourself on the bleachers so you can finish pre-calculus and be done with math. Hoard money, bring only cold sandwiches. Do as few high-maintenance extra curricular gigs as he could and then finally, impress the entrance board with work. No one had bothered to ask him what his goal was in college. Truth be told, college was Jericho's goal.

Oh! I started life as an orphan, a child of the streets

Here on Skid Row

He gave me shelter, a bed, crust of bread, and a job

Though he treats me like dirt and calls me a slob

Which I am

It was Motown night at the shop, one of Jericho's favorites. The late night radio was one of his only hints of personality that his boss, Parker, ever saw. Parker was filling out the last of his paperwork at the yogurt shoppe. Somewhere in the freezer depth was an oatmeal flavor with oreo sprinkles. But, for now, he concentrated on mopping the floor and flipping the chairs and the sound of Stevie Wonder. Mom would never let him work here if she knew about the music.

So I live downtown

That's your main address

"You're home." She was sitting in the recliner, dad's old recliner. It was faded green, the only thing in the place that wasn't pristine. She had tried to have it upholstered once and Jericho had hidden it away just for that purpose. He had forced her to promise to leave it be, to leave it out of the world she was trying to create around herself. She begrudgingly accepted after a week of venomous barbs.

"Told you, mom, I have work on Mondays."

You live downtown

When your life's a mess

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jericho points to the top of the stairs. "Hour of studying. Soc test tomorrow. Pretty easy, but need to review before hitting the hay."

Jericho's mom shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Get over here, kiss mother on the cheek." She smells of cat, although she couldn't stand to ever own one and Jericho had never even seen her bring one of the strays in for a bowl of food.

You live downtown

Where depression just status quo

"They missed you at bible study, my love." She wouldn't let Jericho pull away just yet.

He feels a touch nauseous for lying. "I can't get out of Mondays. We'll find another time to have Rossi and her parents over."

She wants them married. Rossi and Jericho's mom are two peas in one pod. It makes him ill to think of her romantically, but he won't tell his mother "no way" straight up.

Downtown-where the guys are drips

Downtown-where they rip your slips

Wednesdays are the blissful days on Jericho's calendar. Saturdays he spends with old folks, flipping pancakes for the homeless, or raking leaves for Mr. Gillico a few doors down. Sundays are church days, strict days, forced interaction with mom and living with evasion sort of days. No, Wednesdays, he's arranged his calendar beautifully. Two hours in the library, no one else around.

Downtown-where relationships are no go

Here on skid row

The librarian smiles at Jericho, looking briefly at the calendar before sliding the large architectural book he has holed away behind the counter. Its a perk of being the first president of the first literary club at McKinley. Once more, low maintenance and high perk. Jericho spends the first hour staring into the book, off into space, enjoying the lines and planning fake doodles. Its that second hour that she sees him and his life just, well, it all goes to pot after that.

Someone tell me a way to get out of here

Cause I constantly pray I'll get out here

Miss Emma Pillsbury is walking through the stacks, looking for a certain book in the mythology section. Will has asked her to find something about the god or goddess of music. Some point that he's trying to prove in Glee club. His handsome smile and warm eyes often force her to buzz in and out of the conversation.

Please won't somebody say I'll get out of here

Someone give me my shot or I'll rot here

That's how Jericho finds himself in her office. Years later, she would say that she saw the rhythm bouncing in his foot as he listened to his semi-legal, hidden away iRiver.

Emma blinks, erect posture and polite folding of the hands. "How are you today, Mr. Phin? I don't think I've actually seen you since orientation day. That's kind of odd because most students at least come to see me once or twice a year."

Jericho nods. "Well, Ms. Pillsbury, I've been busy and challenged and well, I think I'm doing okay on my own."

She continues talking, but Jericho notices the manila folder with his name at the top of the tab. "Be that as it may, perhaps you could use some guidance of some sort?"

Gee it sure would be swell to get out of skid

Jericho chuckles uneasily. "Not really, thanks. I'm doing okay. I volunteer with Key Club, I do presidential stuff for the lit club, Sat prep and such."

Ms. Pillsbury nods along. "I see that. It's very impressive. Sure you're not too busy?

Jericho furrows his brow. "What are you getting at?"

Bid the gutter farewell and get out skid

I'd move heaven and hell to get out of skid

"Jericho, you transferred here under difficult circumstances. No one would blame you if you were burying yourself in work."

He blinks politely in return. "Dad's death was more than difficult. But I'm handling it."

Emma gives him those doe eyes that make most kids squirm. Jericho doesn't even bat an eyelash, but thinks bullocks on her stare to himself. Its that same manipulation mom uses, whether for good or ill. She plods on, undisturbed. "It's a little late, but I was wondering if you've had a chance to process your grief. You're really young and while its positive to be so active, I have to wonder if its not too active. Normally I would suggest more activity for my students, but I think you might need less."

I'd do I don't know what to get out of skid

But a hell of a lot to get out of skid

Jericho doesn't have much more to say. He returns to the chair in the library neither accepting or denouncing her words, but the peace is ruined and all he can think about is Ms. Pillsbury and her pamphlets and concern. And he thinks about dad and how different everything was and yet how the sun is still beating down and the birds he used to watch are still singing. But he doesn't cry. He's not even sure he can. Then the alarm on his phone goes off quietly. It's time for his next class.

Row!

"I've got something to tell you." Emma slides in across from Will at lunch time.

Will raises his eyes up from the cookies on his napkin. "Whats up? Turkey wrap for lunch?"

"Yes, with just a hint of mustard. But first, I think I might have found someone new for Glee club. Have you ever heard of Jericho Phin? Seems that he has the ability to follow a beat and he's got a lot he needs to express."

Will sets down the cookie slowly that he had been raising to his lips. "Tell me more."

*Author's Note: Welcome to the universe of myself as a Gleek. You'll notice this is a rearranged version of Downtown (Skid Row) from Little Shop of Horrors. This is done because in Jericho's head, it is merely a solo. For me, this is my favorite musical intro and it will become more appropriate as each month unfolds in this new year. I hope you enjoy this and that you'll read. This is not one of those normal OC stories where the narrator and one of the regular Gleeks falls in love. I promise that it will be so much more.*