Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Sunshine Corazon, or any of the plot. *sigh* But the nickname theme is my idea :)

Nicknames

You're short.

It's the second thing people identify you as, right after "the weird hippie girl whose name is Sunshine."

(As if "Puck" is such a common name.)

You're shorter than Rachel Berry, and they call her a hobbit. In fact, you're so short that on your first day at McKinley, Sue Sylvester pulls you over just to tell you that you're too short to have a real insulting nickname, and will heretofore be referred to as Speck.

As in, a speck of dust.

As in, a speck of dust so insignificant it doesn't deserve to be paid attention to, not even to be picked on.

But you're special – you get picked on anyway.

You're not even sure why – being short doesn't seem like enough to merit what people here call a "Slushie facial," and you're pretty sure American society has advanced far enough to be beyond the "Her accent is FUNNY!" phase.

But on your second day at McKinley, Santana Lopez changes your nickname to Asian Speck, and suddenly Mike Chang and Tina Cohen-Chang are your new best friends. So maybe being the exchange student is part of it.

Other than that, you can't really see why you're washing ice out of your hair in the bathroom sink. You're a nice person. Like your name, you brighten people. Just a smile or a few encouraging words make people's day better – and that's not so hard. You take joy in making people happy. You compliment that really well-dressed boy on his...is that a corset? You deflect a Slushie when you tell the attacker his Varsity jacket is cute. You hug Becky Jackson back when she thanks you for helping with her schoolwork. It's little things that make people happy that make living in another country easier to bear, so you keep it up, and even join the Positive Thinking Club. So you're not sure why you just got shoved into a locker.

Until you write your name on the sign-up sheet for Glee Club.

Back home, being a good singer paid the bills. Being a good singer made you happy. Being a good singer made people like you even more. Here, being a good singer makes you a loser.

As soon as James Karofsky sees your name on the sign-up sheet, your new nickname is Baby Gleek.

What's a Gleek?

(The answer, you learn four periods later, must be something that makes people ignore you, because now only twelve people in the school will speak to/be seen with you.)

You don't think Glee Club is so bad. In fact, you think you'll really, really like it. When you saw them singing in the courtyard, you couldn't help but sing along, even if you didn't know the words. You and the dreamy blonde athlete clapped for them, even though no one else did. Up there, you saw ten people just like you – people who just love to sing – and writing your name on the sign-up list makes you feel important. You're writing "Sunshine Corazon" on the same line where the female lead put a gold star two years ago. You're following in her footsteps, and maybe you'll even be best friends!

That is, until you hear Rachel Berry using your apparent new nickname, The Threat.

Rachel must have some confidence issues herself, because seeing you as a threat is something you can't even comprehend. Sending you to a crack house? Maybe she needs to see Ms. Pillsbury.

But she looks like she's trying to make things up to you, so on your fourth day of school, you stand – a little dwarfed – on the stage of the McKinley High Auditorium, and instead of just telling Rachel she was wrong, you let your voice do the talking for you.

And what comes next – that wild applause – that's the other thing that makes you who you are. You made the people in that audience (except maybe Rachel) happy. And that makes everything worth it.

Then it happens. It's what always happens after the applause. Mr. Schuester says, "Your voice is incredible, especially since your so small!" He means it as a compliment, but you can't help but be a little angry with him. He does what people always do – he defines your voice in terms of your height. So even after you're a member of New Directions, you still wonder if you're a good singer considering that you're short, or if you're just a good singer.

That same day after school, Dustin Goolsby, director of Vocal Adrenaline, tells you he saw you audition. He says you have an amazing voice. Not an amazing voice considering. He asks you to transfer to Carmel High, where you'll be the female lead of Vocal Adrenaline. Then he promises you and your mom green cards and a condo.

Transfer to Carmel High, home of Vocal Adrenaline.

You'll be appreciated there.

So on your last day at McKinley, even though your nickname has been bumped up to Earsplitting Speck, you tell Mr. Schuester you're leaving.

The first thing you notice about Carmel is that you've been there for seven periods and no one has Slushied you or insulted your height. After school, you audition for Vocal Adrenaline. You get the same wild applause that you got at McKinley, but you're not sure if it's genuine.

But it must be, because the next day, your nickname is Secret Weapon.

The second thing you notice about Carmel is that you hate it there. Turns out, Dustin Goolsby is a psycho, and so is the choreographer, Dakota Stanley. All they call you is Secret Weapon. You're not even sure if they know your real name.

There's a lot of talent of Vocal Adrenaline, and you're sure that any one of the girls could knock your solo out of the park. Some of them are seniors, so shouldn't they have the solo anyway? When you ask Mr. Goolsby why you're the secret weapon, his answer makes your heart sink.

"No one will expect your voice. You're short."

And it's back to the beginning for you. Vocal Adrenaline is using you, and all the pressure is making you insane. You used to love to sing. It was the only thing that made you feel ten feet tall. Now Vocal Adrenaline manages to take that away, too. They actually make you miss Rachel Berry. At McKinley, you at least wouldn't be worked into a dead faint during rehearsal. But it pays off in the end. Vocal Adrenaline is going to Nationals in New York City.

When you get there, you can't help but wish you were part of the group of teenagers running wild through Central Park. Instead, your group is rehearsing on the fifth level of a parking garage. "Perfect acoustics," one of the dancers tells you.

You're supposed to belt out "As Long As You're There" as Vocal Adrenaline's ballad at Nationals. The theater could fit your entire town back home. With twenty minutes to curtain, you're certain that you're going to throw up and run to the bathroom.

Who else is there? None other than Rachel Berry, who immediately assaults you with a hurricane of words. All you want is to make her stop talking, so you say the first thing that comes out of your mouth. You ask her why she hated you so much and accuse her of not making you feel safe at McKinley. And since you're being honest, you say that you hate Vocal Adrenaline so much that you're going to beg the Philippine Embassy to revoke your green card and deport you.

Which is when Rachel Berry does something you never saw coming. She tells you that you have a gift. And then she hugs you. Hard.

You step onstage and completely ignore each and every member of Vocal Adrenaline. You look for New Directions, and when they smile and applaud and scream, you know it's not because you're small and they're surprised. It's because you're good.

You, Sunshine Asian-Baby Gleek-Earsplitting-Threat-Secret Weapon-Speck Corazon, planned to be on your way to the Philippine Embassy right now. But you change your plans.

Because after the winners are announced, Rachel Berry pulls you aside and says, "Great performance, Sunshine."

And that makes the whole year worth it.