Okay, so my young life wasn't the same as most other kids, but it's probably been pretty similar to many kids out there.

Early on, I started to realize that I wasn't like most of the other kids around me. It started in fifth grade. The signs were probably there earlier, if I'd been mature enough to see them, but I wasn't. I mean, how could I be? My friend Finn and I went swimming one Saturday at the local community center. I remember having a lot of fun, splashing around and goofing off. We were close back then. But then we headed into the locker rooms to change because our parents had come to pick us up. Now I'd started growing hair in places other than my head by that point, and I guess I was one of the first in my class to do that. I don't know if it was envy or curiosity or whatever, but Finn noticed that I'd grown some pubes, and he brought it up. Loudly. With laughter.

Now, it was a natural thing obviously, but I didn't know that back then, and I asked him why it was such a big deal. Was there something wrong with me? Didn't he have hair down there too? I asked him, looking down at his towel-wrapped crotch and back up to see... he looked horrified. He told me it was none of my business, that I was a freak and that I shouldn't be looking at other guy's dicks. I didn't get how I was the freak since he obviously looked at mine first. He went to the other side of the locker room to get dressed, and being so frustrated and confused with his behavior I started to cry. It didn't make sense. I had no idea what was wrong with me or why he'd reacted that way. So I liked looking at other boys. Big deal. Was that really a bad thing?

Finn left the locker room after he got dressed without saying anything to me. I just sat there. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want my dad to see me cry. Not like I had a choice, though. He came into the room a few minutes later, annoyed and wondering why he'd seen Finn leave with his mom but I was still inside, but then he saw I was crying and sat down next to me. I tried to stop. I fucking hate crying. I told him what happened and how I felt, and asked him why I felt the way I did. None of what had happened made any sense to me. I was pissed off and I didn't even really understand why. He gave me a hug. His hugs always had a way calming me down. Whispering in my ear as he held me he told me it was alright, that Finn was wrong, that I had nothing to worry about. Then he told me that he'd like me to talk to someone, because it might help me feel better about what happened.

I started going to a counselor once a month. I never really knew what to say, and the questions she asked were pretty ordinary. Mostly just stuff about my day, my friends, how was school, how was my home life. At the time, I didn't really get why my dad wanted me to go, but since Finn and I weren't talking anymore and I didn't really have many friends left to hang out with, I liked the company she provided. It wasn't just Finn though. Noah and Matt didn't talk to me anymore either. I figured that Finn'd told them about what happened in the locker room. That only made me more depressed. My counselor helped me cope with it, though.

Still, years went by before I feel I really made any progress with her. Besides helping me deal with my former friends, she helped me to feel more comfortable talking about myself. Eventually, I told her how I really felt back in fifth grade when Finn got mad at me and ran away. It hurt, not just because I liked him...but because I really, really liked him. That got us to talking, and she asked me a mess of questions, more specific than the kind I'd been used to from her. She asked me what I thought of when I saw girls. I told her girls were okay, you know? They were just...girls. She asked me what I thought of when I saw boys. I didn't answer for a few minutes, my palms got sweaty, and I looked out the window. She asked again, kindly, and told me that it was alright, whatever I felt was alright and I could tell her. I found myself hesitating, because I'd never really thought about other guys in the way I assumed she was asking. Or at least I didn't think I'd ever thought about them like that consciously. So I told her that I thought boys were pretty...great. She nodded and took down some notes, clearly my pause was notable to her. "What does that mean?" I asked her, because I knew that other boys in school didn't think other boys were pretty. "It doesn't mean anything, David. You're perfectly fine." She smiled and put her hand on my shoulder. I was perfectly fine.

The sessions lasted through the summer following my junior high graduation, and my counselor and I decided that they were probably no longer necessary. Still, I keep her number in my phone, and she told me to call her should I ever need to talk. Going into high school, though, knowing that I'm gay, but having told no one yet, not even my dad...I had a feeling she and I would probably talk again.

Freshman year was lonely. I didn't really make any new friends. I guess the reputation and the rumors followed me. Whatever, it didn't matter. I concentrated on my classes and I managed to get on the honor roll every quarter. I kept to myself, avoiding Finn and Noah, or Puck as he went by now. They had joined football, and while I would have loved to be out there playing with them, it was just too awkward.

As sophomore year started, though, I hoped things could be different. In fact, the very first week I ended up making a friend. I was sitting in the cafeteria at lunch, by myself as usual, and this girl came up and sat down with me. It's not like I wasn't used to the occasional loser or outcast sitting down with me. Sometimes they'd even try some small talk. Usually they just wanted someplace to sit where they wouldn't be picked on, and loser or not, people generally didn't mess with me too badly, probably because I was bigger than most of them. This girl was different, though. I mean, yea, she might not have been popular, but she wasn't shy or nerdy or wimpy like others I'd run into. She came right up and sat down across from me.

"So I bet you're wondering who this fine, curvaceous diva is sitting across from you," she smirked out, all pearly whites and raised brows as she fingered through her side dish of tater-tots, "The name is Mercedes Jones, in case you didn't already know."

I found myself frowning at her, my eyes scanning their corners carefully in case she happened to be talking to someone else. Staring back at her, I almost started laughing as one of her already propped up brows shot higher at my silence. She...was trying to talk to me? Why? Before I even had a chance to stammer out some kind of reply, she'd already kept yapping.

"Look, I know you've got like...no idea who I am. My super cool vibe actually doesn't do much for the fellas at this school, but you...I don't know," she murmured deflated of her previous ego, brown eyes narrowing in on me as she leaned into the table in front of us,"there's something different about you. My only guess is that since you aren't in football or with the puck-heads you must be a closet case. My question is...-"

I tensed up as she said the words, "closet case," looking around to see if anyone else was looking my way, wondering if she was about to out me. I was comfortable enough with who I was inside, but the thought of telling people was still pretty scary.

"Why are you hiding them pipes from the Glee Club?"

"Wait, wait? Glee Club?"

"Yea. We're looking for more members. Looking at you, I bet you can belt out a number or two." She smiled at me, looking into my eyes in a way that made me a little nervous.

"Oh...I dunno. I've never really been much of a singer. I mean, I haven't sung in front of people or anything."

"It's not that hard. I bet you'd be good at it. Anyway, what have you got to lose?"

I thought about it, and looked around the room again, noticing my nearly empty table and frowning. I looked across the room at the football players, where Finn sat and laughed and joked with Puck and the others. Turning back to Mercedes, I sighed heavily before replying, "Sure, why not?"

After lunch, I followed Mercedes to the community board and put my name on the sign-up sheet. There weren't many names there, and that didn't help my nerves any, but I figured maybe I'd make a couple friends, and hey, a couple friends are better than none, right? Later that afternoon, after final period, Mercedes showed up outside my locker. Not even sure how she knew where it was, but whatever. I barely had any time to grab my books before she was dragging me down the hallway to the auditorium for auditions. I tried to tell her that I wasn't ready, but she wouldn't listen. Once I got there, Mr. Schuester asked me what I would be singing, and I blanked. After thinking about it for a minute, I replied.

"Uh...I guess New York, New York?" Like I've said, I never really sang in front of anyone before, but I like to sing in the shower, and I kinda have a thing for the old crooners. My dad would always play stuff by the Rat Pack, so I kinda grew up listening to them.

"Frank Sinatra? Great choice, David. Get up there and show us what you've got!"

I nodded and slowly headed for the stage. Once there, I waited, and when the piano dude started playing I took a deep breath and started singing, thankful that the auditorium was basically empty except for Mr. Schuester and a couple other kids who were trying out. After I finished, I pretty much wanted to run off the stage, but I waited.

Mr. Schuester stood up clapping. "Very good! You've really got a great voice! You'll make a great addition to the club. Thank you, David."

I was still nervous, but I managed to smile as I nodded and got down off the stage to take a seat next to Mercedes.

"I knew you had it in you, white boy," she said as she turned to me and smiled, resting her hand briefly on mine.

"Uh, yea. Thanks."

Then she got up and headed to the stage so that she could try out her number, as I sat there with a grin on my face.

Our first rehearsal was...well it was kind of a disaster. We weren't very good. At all. And apparently that didn't sit well with Rachel, our resident diva, who decided to make some insulting comments and storm out. I thought that this would be a good experience, a way for me to make some friends, but I was starting to lose hope in that idea.

Our next few rehearsals didn't manage to go much better than the first, and it was starting to seem fairly pointless to keep going. But then Mr. Schue showed up with a new member that he managed to recruit...Finn Hudson. I kept my cool, I didn't say a word, but inside I was cursing. Why did it have to be Finn Fucking Hudson? I don't know what made it worse, though: the fact that Finn was now in the same club as me...or the fact that he didn't even seem to think there was anything wrong with that. He looked my way when he came into the room, and our eyes met for a few seconds before he looked away, and basically pretended I wasn't even there. I was just freakin' furniture. Well, if he didn't want to acknowledge what went down between us so many years ago, I sure as hell wasn't going to.

Rehearsal began, and we were doing You're The One That I Want from Grease and, well apparently Finn can sing, and apparently I wasn't the only one to notice. Rachel practically molested him on stage before Mercedes stepped in demanding a lead role. Mr. Schue shot her down, though, and I had to agree, as much as I hated doing it: it was the first time we sounded good since we started rehearsing.

Rehearsals went much better after Finn joined, and I got used to the fact that he seemed to have no intention of acknowledging our past...or apologizing for it. It seemed like we might actually manage after all. Or at least until Mr. Schue took us on a field trip to Carmel High to see their glee club, Vocal Adrenaline, perform. They were great. Like, really really great, and we were shit. And as if that wasn't enough, Mr. Schue let us know a few days later that he was resigning from teaching, and so obviously he wasn't going to be leading New Directions anymore. With Mr. Schue gone, Rachel took over, and well, things just didn't seem so hopeful anymore. On top of that, with Mr. Schue gone, Finn left too, not that it was any skin off my nose.

A couple days later, though, while Tina, Mercedes and I were fighting with Rachel over her latest choreography, Finn showed up with Artie and apologized, not just for quitting, but for his behavior toward us in the past, for throwing pee balloons at me, for...well for his friends nailing my lawn furniture to the roof, since he was apparently not involved in that. Still, it was a nice gesture and much appreciated. He didn't apologize for fifth grade, or for ruining my reputation, but I decided whatever, I should just let it go. He basically took charge, gave us all roles, and...well it felt good. It felt like, hey, maybe we can do this even without Mr. Schue. And for me personally, I was thankful because it meant maybe a new start. I had friends again for the first time in years.

We practiced. A lot. And it was tough, but in the end, when the six of us got up in stage, the jazz band backing us, in our costumes, and we belted out Don't Stop Believin', it felt good. Like, really good. It felt like we accomplished something, like we weren't just a bunch of losers. At the end of our performance, Schuester came into the auditorium and applauded us, and at this point he told us that he wasn't leaving after all, and that he was going to keep leading the glee club. We all thought that that was pretty great news. While we managed to sing one song up to par, I have to say I was relieved someone would be taking the reigns back from Finn and Rachel, as good as they'd done for us.

One thing that did have me worried, though, was that we seemed to have an audience while we rehearsed, and none of them seemed too happy about it. I could swear I saw Coach Sylvester and a couple of the cheerleaders up top in the auditorium glaring down at us, and I definitely saw an angry looking Puck and that Hummel kid that I think has been in a few of my classes over the years. Never really talked to him much, though. I hope I was wrong, but I had a bad feeling about it.