Chapter One:
Great Expectations
Characters featured:
Harvey Akerman (Zachary Gordon)
Tate Burnett (Ansel Elgort)
Frankie Cavallini (Selena Gomez)
Sawyer Clarke (Kiernan Shipka)
Victor Cooper (John Bolton)
Kiana Dixon (Yara Shahidi)
Aubrey Emerson (Katie Findlay)
Landon Holt (Josh Peck)
Nicole Holt (Olivia Holt)
Abby Hornswoggle (Eden Sher)
Evie King (Katherine Langford)
Grant Murray (John Lithgow)
Daisy Robinson (Christy Altomare)
Emilia Robinson (Auli'i Cravalho)
Marley Rose (Melissa Benoist)
Prateep Singh (Suraj Partha)
Camilla Von Alven (Yael Grobglas)
Sean Yamazaki (Nam Joo-hyuk)
Week One
In September of 2009, William McKinley High School's well-known and universally feared cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester had taken a vow to destroy the school's glee club. In June of 2013, she'd finally succeeded.
In January of 2018, about four and a half years after the disbandment of McKinley High's New Directions, William McKinley High School's fresh-faced and only somewhat feared cheerleading coach Camilla Von Alven had made a passing suggestion to the school's principal to form a new club – a glee club, nonetheless.
Principal Grant Murray, who'd been worrying that the school didn't allow any musical extracurricular activities and was brainstorming ways to get more students interested in orchestra or the spring musical, thought that this was a wonderful idea.
If Will Schuester had been there, he would have laughed.
It's a strange story, Marley thinks – the New Directions were disbanded because they had only placed second in the National Show Choir Competition, because they couldn't bring in enough money. The club is now being reformed because the school needs music. In Mr. Murray's own words, "teenagers these days are very unhappy, and music is a great form of therapy."
Maybe Marley would have been happier during these past five years if she'd had some sort of outlet to explore her musical passions. But, that doesn't matter now, because it almost seems as though things had worked out the way they'd supposed to. After all, despite the fact that Marley is yet to work as a real teacher, she really does love teaching, and perhaps she is now about to start doing what she's meant to.
Marley isn't a big believer in fate, but fate is what this feels like. Marley had felt like she'd bombed four interviews – including one for a position at a very pristine all-girls private school, which would have paid her so well that her mom wouldn't have had to keep working – before she ended up back in McKinley High, the very school in which she'd been built up and broken down over and over again, opting for a position as a substitute teacher.
A week later, Mr. Murray had called her to tell her that she'd gotten the job – it took a lot of self-control for Marley to resist the urge to squeal in excitement – and that he'd give her a call whenever he needed her around.
Marley thought that that was it. She'd have to find a more flexible job as a tutor or a waitress at BreadstiX, or both, and otherwise spend her time waiting around for a phone call to tell her that she finally gets to work at the job she'd spend the past three years studying her ass off for.
Then, after notifying her of the good news, Mr. Murray had checked, "You did say that you were a member of the glee club back when you were a student, didn't you?"
"Yes," Marley responded curiously.
"Well, we've decided to form a new glee club – or restart the old one," he explained, Marley's anticipation building, "and if it's not too much trouble-"
"No, no, no! It's not too much trouble! I can do it!" Marley enthusiastically cried. In retrospect, she should have let him finish. "I mean, I can play piano, or assist the coach, if that's what you need me for." Sheepishly, she added, "Should you need somebody."
Mr. Murray let out a short laugh. "I need a director, yes. See, our cheerleading coach was set to take the job, but she doesn't have much experience with singing – our nurse does, but she's doesn't have the time to take on another job, so I was wondering if-"
"I can sing. I promise. My technique is pretty good." That last part may not have been true; since she couldn't afford singing lessons and the middle school she'd attended didn't offer them for free, Marley had continued to practice her technique at home with her favourite YouTubers serving as her vocal coaches.
"I would prefer for us to discuss your hours and pay in person. Are you available tomorrow at noon?"
Marley had a dentist appointment, actually, but she decided that her teeth could wait one more week before being attended to.
Today is the first day of the new school year. Marley doesn't have to be at school, but she's dressed in her best clothes and has just finished up in the print room, holding exactly twenty copies of the glee club sign-up sheet in one hand and pushing open the door with the other.
Marley is looking forward to doing the honours of pinning the sign-up sheets around the school all by herself, even though Mr. Murray had told her that she the kids who help out in the administrator's office would be happy to help.
Marley walks hurriedly down the main hallway, aiming for the notice board, and pins up the very first sheet of paper. The orchestra room isn't too far away, so Marley will go there next – and since McKinley does seem very different to the way it was back when Marley was a student, for all she knows, she's going to get most of her sign-ups in the locker rooms, so she'll head there next.
Marley remembers her audition for the New Directions. There must have been about forty or fifty other students opting for a spot in the club, not including Jake and Marley herself. Damn. What happens if Marley receives fifty sign-ups and every audition is good? Marley is not going to be able to get to know fifty new people at once – dear God, what if she doesn't like some of them?
Well, then that's life. Nobody likes everybody they meet.
Marley pushes open the door to the orchestra room with all her strength – the door is far heavier than Marley had expected. She enters the room and is quite surprised to see a middle-aged sitting at the piano, shuffling through pages of sheet music and pausing to take a sip from a coffee cup that had been resting on the piano's closed lid.
The man notices Marley, probably having heard the heavy door shut, and shifts in his seat, beginning to stand up.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Marley says, sounding more nervous than she'd hoped to, and hanging close to the door. "I didn't realize that anyone was in here."
"Are you here to sign up for the orchestra?" the man asks enthusiastically, walking towards her. "What do you play? We have over forty students, but I'm sure we can find something for you."
Marley laughs softly, slightly taken aback by the man's enthusiasm. "I'm not a student. Actually, I'm the glee club director. I came here to put up a sign-up sheet." Marley waves the stack of papers in her hands around gently.
"Ah, I've heard of you. The new substitute teacher." The man smiles warmly. "By all means, put up as many as you'd like. I can't promise you that very many of my students can sing – in fact, I've heard some of them sing to themselves, and for your sake, I hope they don't audition at all."
Marley chuckles again.
"But, many of them are very gifted, and I'm sure they would love to play for the club, even if they can't sing," he goes on, grinning. "Maybe stick up one or two sheets on the door, and I'll give a shout out to the glee club during our next practice."
"Thank you," Marley replies, bowing her head slightly. She extends a hand in front of her. "I'm Marley Rose."
"Victor Cooper." He smiles again, shaking Marley's hand very gently.
Marley turns to stick a sheet onto the door, slightly below her chin, just so that students of just about every height can reach it.
Before she's about to leave, Mr. Cooper calls out, "If you ever need a piano player, you know where to find me."
Marley's never really been socially awkward, but she's not a genius conversationalist either. Unsure of how to respond to such a friendly man, Marley offers him a smile and again, says, "Thank you."
She heads out the door, which takes her surprisingly long given her forgetting just how heavy the door is. Once she stumbles out of the room, she finds herself in a busier hallway – the students are rolling in.
Marley, trying not to bump into anybody, makes her way to the old choir room.
After a few moments in which she'd barely moved forward, always having had trouble weaving her way through crowds, Marley feels a tap on her shoulder.
Before she has the chance to turn around, she finds herself facing a very beautiful blonde women who has a strangely discomforting smile, who had just walked around Marley to stop her from walking on down the hall.
"You must be Marley Rose," she woman says is a low, businesslike tone. "I'm Coach Von Alven, of the Cheerios."
"Oh, it's nice to meet you," Marley replies, offering the woman a nod. Coach Von Alven's arms are crossed, so Marley doesn't offer to shake her hand.
Marley takes a good, long look at the woman. She's nothing like Sue Sylvester. At least, not in the way she looks.
Coach Von Alven would be around Marley's height if it weren't for the six-inch high heels she's wearing. She dons a figure-hugging white dress that ends just above her knees, a stark contrast to Coach Sylvester's track suits, and her buttery blonde tresses cascade in waves down to her elbows.
"I don't know if you've heard but I am the reason you're not just some pathetic substitute," Coach Von Alven says casually. Is she being… friendly? "So, I do want to let you know that even though I'm not very well-equipped to take on your job, if you ever need help with choreography, my office is right down the main hall, to your left."
"Thank you," Marley smiles. "I'm not a very good dancer, so I would really appreciate that, ma'am."
"Please. Call me Camilla," the blonde woman says rather condescendingly. "Do you need someone to show you around?"
"No, thanks. I used to be a student here," Marley tells Camilla. "But thank you for offering."
"Oh, I wasn't offering. I was going to tell you to ask one of the lunch ladies to do it."
Marley nods, unsure of whether Camilla is joking or not.
"Anyway, the choir room is dull. You should redecorate," Camilla continues. "Maybe put that Nationals trophy somewhere people can actually see it, and get rid of those pictures of the fat lady and the dead kid."
"Uh, I'll think about it," Marley says politely.
During her first week at McKinley as student, Marley had put herself at odds with a lot of the other kids, when she'd snapped at them and stood up for her mother. She's not going to make the same mistakes she did back then – she knows she doesn't have to listen to this woman and toss out the pictures of Finn and… what's-her-name, but she's not going to yell at anybody this time around. At least, not during her very first week here.
"Good," Camilla says with a nod. "Hand me some of those, will you?" she orders, eyeing the sign-up sheets that Marley is clutching. "I'll try to get some of my students and Cheerios to sign-up."
Smiling, Marley hands over two.
McKinley High is indeed a very different school. The staff are so accommodating, if a little overly friendly and aggressive.
Marley hopes that the students have changed, too.
Sean Yamazaki is kind of a floater. He gets along with everybody, almost – jocks, nerds, artists, even that clique of extremely religious Christian kids who are currently campaigning against gay PDA in McKinley's hallways. They can believe what they want, Sean thinks.
His girlfriend Aubrey is most certainly not a floater. She's a queen bee.
Where Sean sees a cluster of people floating about randomly, Aubrey sees a pattern, or rather, a hierarchy.
It's not enough that very many people know her name. They have to know her first, before they think of anybody else. When you think of McKinley High School, you've got to think of Aubrey Emerson, and maybe then Vienna Harper, Tristan Kelly, Brynn Burnett, Frankie Cavallini… Sean wonders where Aubrey would place him on this ladder.
Sometimes he wonders if she sees herself as superior to him because of this hierarchy.
"Becca said that the guidance counsellor told Frankie to audition for this glee club thing," Aubrey tells him with an eye roll.
"Sounds like fun," Sean says, disinterested, rummaging through his locker.
"Are you serious?" Aubrey asks, sounding a little amused. "She's going to fall down."
Fall down. Aubrey's favourite phrase.
Sean looks at her. "Is that really the most important thing?"
"Frankie cares about being popular."
"Maybe, but she cares more about having fun," Sean retorts. He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Why is this ninety percent of our conversations?"
"What is?" Aubrey asks innocently.
"You know," Sean says, slightly moody and trying not to let that show in his tone. "Talking about who's more or less popular than they were yesterday."
Aubrey rolls her eyes again, and looks very pissed off. "It's important to me."
"Right, but there are other things that matter," Sean states. He knows he sounds like he's arguing, and he doesn't mean to.
He's fought with Aubrey before, and it's not pretty. Nobody plays dirty like the clean-cut Aubrey, but if Aubrey is ice, then Sean is fire.
Aubrey cannot compete, even though she usually seems to think she's winning. Sean usually lets her win. At least, that's the way he sees it.
"Look, I'm so over explaining this." Aubrey talks slowly, as though Sean is a child. "Life is political. It's about networking. You can't get to the top professionally unless you're at the top socially. Why do you think that Donald Trump is our president, or that Emma Watson got to play Belle when there's a brunette girl who can sing better than her at every corner?" There's a dramatic pause in Aubrey's monologue. "It's because they got our attention."
Sean has to admit that Aubrey's got a point. It's unfair, yes, but life's not fair.
Still, Sean doesn't really know when exactly his life had turned into this. Sean's been pretty well-known at school since he moved to America, but it's only because he plays sports and is very friendly. Being "on top," whatever that means, has never really been a concern of his.
"Maybe you should join the Cheerios. You'd look good in that uniform," Sean teases, smirking.
Aubrey rolls her eyes a third time, but laughs. "Shut up. I already told you. I'm not a groupie. Being a cheerleader doesn't go well with the impression of sophistication I've been working to build." She pauses, and adds, "Although, I would like to have my own personal cheerleading squad someday. They could follow me around and perform a celebratory number every time I do something legendary."
Sean laughs.
"I know you hate this side of me," Aubrey begins. She's looking up at Sean through her long eyelashes, giving him her infamous puppy look.
"I don't hate it. You're twisting my words," he says, running a hand through his hair.
"Yes, but you don't like it, and it's a big part of who I am." Aubrey lets out a deep sigh. "I care about people knowing me, and about what they think of me. I can't help it. And honestly, I think that everybody cares about what other people think. It's dishonest to look down on me when you want people to like you, too."
Sean shuts his locker.
"I know," he replies. "You're right."
It's true. Even Sean has to admit that he likes being popular, and in some way he really does want people to like him. Granted, Sean just doesn't want to be alone, and he thinks that he has a good reason to spend much of his time trying to prevent that. He's not sure Aubrey or anyone like her has as good of a reason as he does to want to have as many people know her as possible, but there's still a part of himself that Sean sees in Aubrey.
There's success in power. No one has any control over you when you're the one in power. Sean quite likes power, and maybe that's what had attracted him to Aubrey in the first place.
Sean appreciates that Aubrey is upfront about this ugly side of herself – she's certainly more genuine than he is, at least in that sense – but her transparency is her downfall. Sean thinks she'd be more powerful if she stopped showing everybody how hard she was trying. After all, when nobody knows you're in the game, they're not going to see you as a threat.
"I'll see you in physics?" Aubrey asks.
"Yeah."
Aubrey gives Sean a forced smile, and walks away.
Sean begrudgingly begins to make his way to English, which he's not looking forward to, since his English class is now going to be taught by Mrs. Von Alven. In Mr. Rivera's English class, Sean could not only slack off, but he was also allowed to eat whenever he wanted to.
"A hungry student is not a happy student," Mr. Rivera would say.
He passes the main notice board on the way there, and a bright yellow sheet of paper catches his eye.
In bold black letters, all in caps, are the words, "SIGN UP FOR GLEE CLUB," neatly printed across the top. Sean sees Tate Burnett scribble his name on the very first line.
"Hey," Sean greets the other boy.
"Hey," responds Tate with a nod. He holds out his pen and asks, "Do you want to sign up?"
Maybe it's because Sean gets bored easily and likes to take on new hobbies, or because his uncle says he's got too much free time on his hands, or because he's always loved to sing and play guitar, or because he kind of wants to spite his elitist girlfriend – probably mostly the last one – but Sean seriously considers signing up for a moment.
He shakes his head, deciding not to. At least, for now.
"I'll think about it."
Landon Holt has never been a softie.
He's not really a big, scary macho tough guy, but if there's anything that Landon is not, it's soft.
Now that he's a senior, he gets to be the senior editor of both the McKinley Muckraker and the Thunderclap, which means he gets to throw his weight around and speak his mind, and this time, nobody can tell him that he's wrong in his opinions because he gets to be the boss.
"Did we get any new sign-ups, Prateep?" Landon asks his more dependable subeditor – Harvey is normally too distracted to be informed of these things.
"Just one," Prateep says. "An Emilia Robinson."
"That's not a writer's name," chirps Evie King, facing a computer screen and not turning to look at either of the boys.
"And Evie King is?" questions Prateep.
"E. L. King," is Evie's only response.
"Let her work speak for itself," Landon says flatly, referring to Emilia, though he does know Emilia through his sister, and she's supposedly a good student.
Landon looks around the room and notices that two heads are missing. "Where's Abby?"
"She's a member of, like, twenty-two clubs," Prateep explains, looking a little annoyed. "She'll probably be here in the next few minutes."
"And Tate?" asks Landon.
"You know Tate," Evie answers, shrugging. "Anything that involves a crowd cheering him on comes first. The nerdy school newspaper is far from his top priority."
"So, assuming Emilia is any good, there are only going to be seven of us working on the Muckraker?" Landon asks, though his question is more of a statement. "Six if I fire Tate."
Harvey lazily stretches his arms out in front of him. "Yeah, I'm not going to be showing up to every single event and game to take pictures. We need at least one other photographer."
"It's the first day of the school year and it's not even over yet," Prateep reasons. "We'll probably have a few more sign-ups."
"Right, because the school newspaper is totally cool," Evie drawls sarcastically. "This isn't the Cheerios. Nobody wants a part of the Muckraker."
"We're probably going to end up with a bunch of useless freshmen who are only good for printing and picking fonts," complains Harvey, mumbling and making it difficult for Landon to understand what he's saying. "I'm gonna have to show up to every single match McKinley plays…"
"I bet you'll have fun spending so much of your time on sports," mocks Prateep. "Better start studying up on them now."
Harvey rolls his eyes in annoyance. "I know plenty about sports. You probably don't even know who won the FIFA world cup this year."
"That's soccer, right?" Prateep furrows his eyebrows. "Brazil, probably."
"Wow," Landon murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief, while Harvey laughs. Evie slouches back in her chair, disinterested.
Landon claps his hands together, hoping to get everybody back on track.
"Harvey, your sister is smart, isn't she?" Landon demands. "Ask her to join, will you?"
Harvey shakes his head. "Halley's not going to join the Muckraker. She's joining the glee club."
Landon is confused. "We don't have a glee club."
"We do now," Harvey says.
Prateep nods, and never one to shut up, goes on to add, "We do. Mrs. Von Alven said that we need to put ads up in this week's issue for all of the new clubs. Glee club, Free Hugs club, Quidditch club…"
Evie snorts. "We have a Quidditch club?"
"Yes," answers Prateep. "I spent all of last year petitioning to get it started."
"The Gonna-Die-a-Virgin club would probably be a better name for it," Evie states, earning a chuckle from both Landon and Harvey.
"I don't understand why Halley can't sign up for both the glee club and the Muckraker," Landon tells Harvey.
Harvey shrugs. "She's got her entire year planned out. I can't make Halley do something she doesn't want to."
"Knock knock!" comes Abby's cheery voice from the doorway.
"You're late," Landon says sternly.
"I come bearing a visitor," Abby responds, ushering somebody else in who, lo and behold, turns out to be Mrs. Von Alven.
Well, this is going to be fun.
"Is the first issue in progress?" asks Mrs. Von Alven, barging into the room and walking around.
"No," Landon answers. "It's the first day of school. There are only five of us here."
Mrs. Von Alven gives Landon a pitiful look. "That's no excuse."
"Besides," she continues, clapping her hands together, "I'm an English teacher. I know who's cut out for this and who's not. Why do you think Prateep signed up?"
She gestures in the direction of Prateep, who glumly says, "She threatened to fail me on the best essay I'd ever written if I didn't join."
"And I would have done it," Mrs. Von Alven states with pride.
"So, you're going to blackmail students into signing up?" Harvey asks in his usual judgmental tone.
Mrs. Von Alven doesn't answer, and instead says, "You know, the Muckraker won an award a few years ago."
"You weren't working here a few years ago," Landon bluntly states. He's never been a bullshitter, though at times like this he wishes he were one.
"All I'm saying is that something went wrong, and as the current editor of this newspaper, it is your job to fix that," Mrs. Von Alven declares. "Don't you think that your position as editor of an award-winning newspaper would strengthen your chances of getting into a good university?"
"I haven't thought about it." Landon shrugs.
Mrs. Von Alven is glaring back at him. "Aren't you a senior?"
Landon nods.
"Then you ought to start thinking about getting into college," she tells him.
She looks around the room, her nose in the air, and cries, "By tomorrow's free period, I want progress on the first issue."
Harvey groans loudly at Mrs. Von Alven's vague demand, and the teacher leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind her, and even with the door closed, Landon can hear her heels ticking further away.
"What progress?" Harvey questions. "Why can't she just tell us exactly what she wants?"
"Even if we gave her exactly what she wanted, she'd have a problem with it," Prateep drawls.
Abby shakes her head. "I like how she doesn't underestimate us."
"You like everything," Landon tells her.
"Seriously, man," Evie lifts her chin to get a clearer look at Landon. "You haven't thought about college yet."
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," he responds carelessly.
"You're a senior," she tells him, her tone more condescending than usual – Landon didn't even know that was possible.
"I know that."
"So, what are your dreams?" Abby asks nicely, interrupting Evie who was about to say something. Abby's always had a talent for tactfulness, which Landon thinks he should appreciate more. "I think that's what Evelyn was getting at?"
"I don't know." Landon shrugs once again.
"You don't know?" Prateep asks, surprised.
"Why is that so shocking?" Landon asks, slightly offended. He's not of a fan of being pushed to make up his mind – in fact, he's not a fan of being pushed in general, and he senses that he's about to be pushed. "My senior year just started. Do all of you know what you're going to do after high school?"
His tone is accusatory, but nobody seems offended. In fact, Landon sees a sympathetic Abby, a disinterested Harvey and two smug faces staring back at him.
"I am going to become a bestselling author," Evie says casually. "You know that."
An equally complacent Prateep chimes in. "I am going to be a software engineer."
"Well, neither of those seem like they're going to happen," Landon says without tact. He turns to the other two. "Abby?"
"I'm going to bring a smile to as many faces as possible with my matchmaking business," she answers with certainty and a big grin.
"Harvey?"
Harvey shrugs. "I don't know. But I'm sure I will by the time I'm a senior."
Landon thinks that this is ridiculous. These kids as delusional, and they're going to change their minds.
He remembers being six years old, and proudly saying that he was going to be a firefighter, running around the backyard with his water gun and pretending that the trees and the bushes were fires. But after a short while, the firefighter became an astronaut, and the astronaut became a writer, and the writer became a doctor.
It seems like a great deal of pressure to put on eighteen-year-olds, expecting them to have their lives figured out a quarter of the way through the twelfth grade.
Although, Landon has always been self-aware, and he's worried that he does have his life figured out. He's worried that he's going to spend the rest of his life working towards one thing while longing for something else, starting on paths and abandoning them for something new, and never creating a life stable enough for him to feel completely financially independent.
To get to do everything he wants, even if only for a little while before he gets bored and moves onto the next thing, seems like a fulfilling life to Landon, though the pragmatist in him is well-aware that that life is not going to work out that well in the long term. Not if he wants to move forward in life.
Landon's good sense recognises that Evie might write seventy books by the time she's thirty, with none of them selling more than a few thousand copies. He sees that Abby's blind optimism might cause her to decide on the worst possible matches, leading to very many divorces, that in two years Harvey may still have no clue on what to do with his life, and that Prateep's creative side might never feel satisfied when he works as a software engineer.
Landon normally likes that he's aware of all of his options, but he's also aware that you need balance, that ambition can be a good thing and that aimlessness can't carry you very far.
The problem is that aimless is all Landon knows he can be.
School is not totally pointless.
Frankie Cavallini hates class, but she does love being at school. Maybe she just loves feeling like a celebrity that much.
It's a stark contrast to her home life. At home, Frankie spends most of her time alone. At school, nobody ever leaves her alone. Everybody wants something from Frankie, and even if it's just a teacher nagging her to do her homework or to listen in class or to dress more appropriately, Frankie quite enjoys all the attention.
"The secret is pancake batter," Frankie lies through a wide smile, telling a bunch of freshmen of how she manages to maintain such healthy, shiny hair.
"Pancake batter?" the African-American girl asks, scrunching her nose. "That's really gross."
Her little blonde friend says, "No, it's not. I think we should give it a shot, Kiana."
Frankie smirks. She loves it when children kiss her ass.
Frankie lets out a sigh and looks at the blonde girl. "Oh, I like you. What's your name?"
"I'm Sawyer," the girl smiles widely, holding out her hand as a formality. Frankie ignores this gesture and instead goes in for a hug.
Most people, people like Aubrey Emerson or Kitty Wilde, wouldn't dare to touch a stranger as though they're a friend. Frankie's preferred to take a page out of Princess Diana's book, and be affectionate with just about any stranger she meets.
"Kiana," she says sweetly, hugging the other girl. "So nice to meet you."
"Right back at you," Kiana smiles. "You're pretty cool, but I still think your pancake batter treatment is bullshit."
Frankie notices Sawyer give Kiana a small nervous glare, as if to ask, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"Fine by me," Frankie shrugs. "I don't think you need it anyway."
Kiana smirks, flattered. "Thank you."
"Children."
Frankie immediately recognizes the soft, sing-song tone of Aubrey Emerson's sugary sweet voice, and watches her appear from behind the two freshmen girls, to proudly move over to stand directly in from of Kiana and Sawyer.
Aubrey's a rather short girl; Frankie's not sure as to her exact height but Aubrey's a few inches taller than Fran and only slightly taller than the petite Sawyer, even in heels.
"I see you've found yourself a new pair of subordinates," Aubrey says, seeming impressed.
Frankie furrows her eyebrows. She's not sure what subordinates are.
"Minions," Aubrey tells her, as if able to read Fran's mind. Frankie really needs to work on that vacant, dopey expression of hers.
"We can share, if you want," Frankie jokes, glancing at all three girls. She expected an eye roll or some sort of snarky comment from Kiana, but Kiana doesn't seem all too bothered.
She and Sawyer must have been looking for an in with the popular kids all along, and Frankie is probably their ticket.
Sneaky bitches, using her and pretending to be all innocent. Frankie respects that.
"What is this I hear about you joining the glee club?" Aubrey questions.
Frankie shrugs casually. "Where'd you get this?"
"Becca."
"I am thinking about it," admits Fran, raising and lowering her right shoulder. "Mrs. Schuester suggested it."
Aubrey's eyes widen and the corners of her mouth turn downwards. "You're still seeing the guidance counsellor?"
Aubrey seems to be more curious, and somewhat critical, than genuinely concerned.
Frankie looks past Aubrey, to look at Sawyer and Kiana who are staring back at her intently, waiting for an answer.
"No," Frankie answers truthfully, "but I do talk to her when I see her around."
Frankie really does like Mrs. Schuester, and she doesn't normally get along with teachers or other adults who've got some form of power over her, so she's not going to ignore Mrs. Schuester every time she sees her around. That would be rude, it's certainly not like Frankie to turn down a conversation – if it was, she would never have been popular, and most of all, she doesn't want to.
And besides, Frankie quite enjoys getting the sympathy vote. She doesn't mind anybody seeing her talking to the guidance counsellor, because everybody knows she's not a freak. All they'll say is, "Aww, poor Frankie for losing her grandma."
And maybe they'll show up at her house with casseroles and boxes of donuts, just like they did last year.
"Oh, that's good," Aubrey smirks. "I see what you're doing there."
Frankie smirks too, though she kind of wishes this conversation were over. Frankie likes to be excited, and Aubrey normally sounds like a broken record.
"Can I leave?" Fran asks. "I feel like I'm being held hostage."
"You're not having lunch with me and my two new underlings?" Aubrey shifts to gesture towards Kiana and Sawyer.
Sawyer squeals in excitement. "You want to us to have lunch with you?"
"Why not?" Aubrey shrugs, looking back at the girl. "I like your looks. I'm sure I'll like you guys too."
She turns to face Frankie once again. "You're not coming?"
"No," answers Fran. "It's the first day of school. I've got loads of new people to meet. "
"Suit yourself," Aubrey replies. "Just don't join glee club, okay? I don't want to become a nerd by association."
Frankie doesn't reply, instead smiling and saying, "I'll see ya."
She gives Aubrey and the other two girls a small wave and walks off, high heels clacking behind her so loudly that she can hear them over the chatter of the crowd.
Fran is heading over to sign up for the glee club.
Sure, Aubrey thinks it's a club for losers, but how can she possibly know that if it's just been formed? Frankie hopes that Aubrey's not right, but if she is, and this club is filled with losers and nerds and outcasts, then perhaps Frankie won't become any of those things. If anything, it's more likely that she makes the glee club cooler by association.
Truly, Frankie hates being alone, and if she doesn't have the glee club or the prom committee or any of the sports she plays to kill her free time, she'd have to go home to an empty house with nobody to talk to and nothing fun to do. Frankie's not exactly a read-a-book-surf-the-web-watch-some-Netflix kind of girl. Nope. Boring.
Besides, it's about damn time this school built a club for kids like Frankie, who love performing.
When Frankie arrives at the notice board, she sees three names already written on the sign-up sheet for the glee club: Tate Burnett, Halley Akerman and Landon Holt.
She's not sure as to who this Landon Holt is, but Tate is very popular. Frankie doesn't know a ton about him, but she doubts he would've signed up if he thought that the glee club was a loser club. Also, having Frankie and Tate in one club probably moves the club into "totally cool" territory.
Halley Akerman is a tough one. Having her in the club either makes it lame, or immune from being messed with, since one hundred and thirteen percent of the student body are afraid of Halley.
Frankie decides that the glee club can't be uncool and scribbles her name beneath Landon Holt's, dotting all of her i's with little hearts.
"How's your first day of high school going?"
Good God, Emilia Robinson thinks to herself. She's just about to walk into the cafeteria, with her good friend Nicole by her side, and here comes her half-sister Daisy to check on her.
"What are you doing?" Emilia asks, annoyed and her voice just barely above a whisper so nobody but Daisy and Nicole can hear her. "This is totally embarrassing."
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Daisy tells her. She looks past Emilia and greets Nicole, "Hey, Nicole."
"Hi," Nicole replies with a smile.
Daisy returns her attention to Emilia. "Isn't it exciting? The two of us in school together, basically."
It's really not. Emilia looks around and notices some other students glancing her way, noticing her talking to the school nurse. This is not the kind of attention that Emilia enjoys receiving.
"What's going on with your hair?" asks Daisy, beginning to comb her fingers through Emilia's long, dark chocolate-coloured curls, straightening her sister's hair out. "Did you sleep on it funny?"
"Oh my God, what are you doing?" Emilia demands, batting her sister's hand away. "This is so embarrassing. People are staring."
Daisy looks taken aback. "What is your problem? Do you always care this much about what other people think?"
"She really does," Nicole says, chipping in. Emilia shoots her a glare, wondering why her friend is not backing her up – Nicole cares very much about what others think of her as well.
"What?" asks Nicole, in response to the dirty look she's just received. "It's the truth."
"Well, I wish you'd care about what we think about you back home," Daisy states. She's so condescending sometimes that Emilia finds her quite hard to tolerate. If she were back home, she'd probably have yelled at Daisy, but Emilia doesn't want to cause a scene.
More importantly, Emilia wouldn't want her peers to see that side of her.
It's not that Emilia doesn't love her sister, or appreciate everything Daisy has done for her, especially over the past few years since the death of their dad and Emilia's mom – in fact, Emilia can never quite put into words how much gratitude she has for what her sister has done for her. But Daisy's never been perfect – in fact, when she was Emilia's age, and even much older than Emilia, she was not only a bad student but gave Emilia's mom a pretty hard time.
Despite this, she expects Emilia to be perfect, something she's never had to strive to be, because she's always been noticed and loved regardless of how irresponsible she used to be. And Emilia is really getting sick of trying to be perfect.
"So, I met the new substitute teacher," Daisy goes on, changing the subject. "She's really sweet. She's actually in charge of the glee club, so I told her that you would join."
"You told her that I would join?" Emilia asked. She really wishes that Daisy would stop taking every chance she gets to make Em's decisions for her.
"Yes," Daisy answers shamelessly. "I told her that you have a beautiful voice and that you've been doing ballet all your life."
Emilia rolls her eyes.
"Nicole," Daisy calls out. "Glee club is looking for members, if you're interested."
"Nah, I can't really sing or dance," Nicole replies. "I'm pretty sure I have stage fright, too. I can't even say a speech in front of a classroom without feeling like I'm gonna barf."
"That's all I came here to say," Daisy says sternly, looking at Emilia.
"Good." Emilia sighs in relief.
"And remember who I told you to stay away from," Daisy goes on. "Frankie Cavallini is terrible influence. Aubrey Emerson is-"
"-is a mean girl," Emilia cuts her off, reciting Daisy's lecture from last night. "Parker Collins cares way too much about his looks. Halley Akerman is selfish, and Blaze Foster spends way too much time in detention."
"Exactly," Daisy smiles.
"Can Nicole and I get something to eat now?" Emilia asks, tempted to add "before you keep lecturing me" to the end of her question.
"Go ahead."
Emilia and Nicole head to collect food, and as they make their way down the line, Emilia begins to rant.
"God, I can't catch a break from her. I thought me being in high school meant the end of me being treated like a child. I feel like she's going to be hovering above me like a satellite for the next four years."
"I don't think it'll be that bad," Nicole says, as one lunch lady tosses a big spoonful of mac and cheese onto Emilia's plate. "It's the first day, so she's probably just checking on you to make sure you're okay and that you know the ropes of this place. She'll probably start hanging back more by next week."
Nicole's got a point. By next week, Daisy should be busier, and that means she's got less time to hound Emilia.
"Besides," the blonde girl continues, grabbing a carton of apple juice, while Emilia goes for the chocolate milk, "at least she's looking out for you. I bet if I got hit by a bus right now, Landon wouldn't even notice until homecoming."
Again, true. Not everybody's parents, siblings or guardians put as much time and energy into them as Daisy does for Emilia.
Emilia and Nicole finally turn to look around the cafeteria, to find a place to sit.
"Let's go outside," Nicole suggests cheerily.
"Only the popular kids get to eat in the courtyard," Emilia states. "That what I heard."
"We could just check it out," urges Nicole, the far more outdoorsy one of the pair. "Come on."
Emilia follows Nicole outside, and the two begin scouting for an empty table. None are in sight.
"See, it's Kiana and Sawyer," Nicole says. She waves, facing the direction of the other end of the courtyard.
Emilia groans, as Nicole begins walking towards the two girls. "Oh, they don't like me."
"That's not true."
"You're right," Emilia says cynically, following Nicole's lead. "They don't even know I exist. Whenever we talk to them, it's like I'm invisible. They only notice you."
"Well…" Nicole fumbles. "You're shy. You have to make your presence known."
It's not like Emilia hasn't tried that before.
She groans softly again, as she and Nicole approach the only somewhat empty table in the courtyard. Emilia sees three faces smiling back at her – Kiana, Sawyer and another, older-looking dark-haired girl, who seems rather smug and self-assured.
"Hello," the girl says, eyeing Emilia and Nicole.
"Where'd you get that dress?" she asks, looking directly at Emilia.
"Uh," Emilia chokes out, looking down at her white and red gingham dress. She wasn't expecting to get noticed by Kiana and Sawyer, who she's known for years, much less by a prettier, older, more confident stranger. "This thrift store a few blocks from my house. Déjà vu."
When the girl nods but doesn't say anything, Emilia is quick to continue. "I can give you the address if you want."
"No, thanks, thrift stores and Patty Simcox are not really my style," the girl smirks. "Some us can afford to buy clothing that weren't worn by the Doris Day wannabes who came before us."
Kiana and Sawyer both snicker at the girl's comment.
Emilia swallows, and Nicole tugs on her arm. "Let's go back inside."
"No," the brunette girl orders. "Sit down. It's only a joke. Let's talk for a while."
"We really should go," Nicole says, smiling.
The girl shrugs her left shoulder. "Suit yourself."
Walking away, Nicole whispers to Emilia, "I am so sorry about that, Em. I swear, Sawyer used to be one of the nicest girls and Kiana's kind of rough around the edges, but she was really sweet too."
"I guess high school changes people," Emilia thinks out loud, wondering if she might change too.
In all honesty, she hopes she does, even she ends up being a bit more like Sawyer and Kiana and the mean brunette girl.
Emilia could use a bit of fire in her. She's been bullied her entire life – why did she think that high school would be different when she herself is not?
Her expectations having risen and fell dramatically in the past few minutes, Emilia and Nicole head inside to eat, settling to share a table with three weeaboos, one of whom is in desperate need of a shower.