A/N: Hi! First of all, this is my first fan fiction to be published on this site. I've written some, but I published them on Tumblr or I just left it on my documents. I'm sorry if there are some grammar errors in this story, because English is not my first language. I wrote this story on January and finished on April, but I had no time to publish it. Now, that I have the chance, I finally can share this one to you guys :) This is my first author's note, so I don't know what to write anymore and I just let the story to speak for itself. Enjoy :) feel free to leave a review.

Struck By Lightning/Glee Crossover

Lucky Strike - Chapter 1

It was a usual morning at William McKinley High School. The carbon odor that came out from students' cars mixed with early morning breath and the smell of cheeseburgers that the lunch lady cooked for noon were wafted from the edge of the school entrance. The loud noise of broken exhausts and the shout of jocks who were throwing geeks and nerds off to the dumpster had become the morning tune for the past years. It was always the same here in McKinley High. It became a morning tradition that the seniors inherited from one generation to the next.

This kind of situation was not the situation that Carson Phillips used to have. Born and raised in a small town known as Clover with the number of population less than ten thousands made him a little bit uncomfortable at first. Plotting his death and made the whole city believe it was even more uncomfortable.

It started on March 15th afternoon. He finally found the only thing that made him happy; finished his unfinished story. He made a story about a boy who wanted to fly and he read it to his grandma when he was 12, and until his senior year in Clover High he never finished the story. Before he published his first literally magazine, Carson thought it would be nice to complete the story and put it in the magazine. The boy who wished to have the ability to fly finally could fly.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who flew…

It was the happiest moment in Carson's life. When Carson went home and was about to get into his 1973 Carvair, suddenly a big lightning bolt struck Carson's body. He could feel the lightning was just an inch away from his head and the electric shock ran through his veins. He collapsed on the ground, not dead. It was truly a magical moment. Nobody could survive from a lightning that strong. It could kill most people, but not Carson. Maybe it was because of his big journalistic dreams that shielded him from the thunder.

The lightning strike suddenly turned Carson 180°. He was the optimistic with big dreams and sneaky brain Carson and he suddenly turned into the hopeless pessimistic with no dream and lack of self confidence Carson.

What if those misfit students didn't like my magazine?

What if they would mock me for the rest of my life?

Fuck this.

I will be out of this town in one month.

I can't let these thoughts bugging me around like fleas on buffalos' hair.

What if Northwestern didn't accept my magazine-this hard work-because it is filled with works from students that are not Northwestern-worth, or the New Yorker-worth?

I will be out of here.

And I'm going to do it now.

Why do we have to wait when there is nothing that holds your back?

Sure, my mom's attempt to hold me back is great-but in what world?

Nobody can crush my dreams.

NOBODY, not even me, can be bigger than my dreams.

My dreams are bigger than the Empire State, and that is where I'm going.

Clover, from now on, I'm saying goodbye to you.

Take care of my mom, take care of my dad, take care of my grandma, and take care of my unwanted friends.

Because Carson Phillips is heading to the east, and no one will ever find out because I'm going to make up my own death story.

Carson Phillips; died because of the lightning strike, rest in peace in New York where he belongs.

Shortly afterwards, Carson was conscious. He looked paler than snow in winter, but he didn't forget to do the last touch up of his hair before heading to his car. He ran to the car, still running his fingers through his hair and made his crest higher than Elvis'.

Carson always kept his ray-ban sunglasses on his dashboard. He knew when the right time to get in style with shades was, and the right time was when he drove his bad-ass ride that his grandfather gave to him before he died of a heart attack. Carson put on his sunglasses and headed off to the exit of the town.

On his halfway to cross the border to the new world, Carson met a boy his age. He was thinner than Carson, he wore a beanie hat, and his hair was his shoulder long. He went to the same school as Carson. Carson never had a conversation with that boy before, but he was famously known as the tattletale in his school. People called him the Fly, since he was a big spy in a tiny body. He could spread a gossip in just a snap. That boy was like 'the Perez Hilton of Clover'. He could spread the information he had about someone, but he respected the man behind the scandal. He also could lie and made up a gossip about someone without revealing the truth behind it-and that was what Carson need along with his escape.

"Yo, the Fly!"

Carson pulled over to the right side of the road, approaching the Fly who was eating his corn dog that he bought at a diner nearby. He pulled off his shades, showing his greenish-bluish pair of eyes towards the sunlight.

The Fly quit eating. He threw his half-bitten corn dog away and wiped his mouth full of mustard with his bare hand.

"'s up?"

The Fly greeted Carson calmly. For a man with gossips filled inside his head, he was a calm guy and he didn't consider his work as a tattletale a problem.

"Listen, I've never asked a walking TMZ for a help before, but I need your help." Carson asked the Fly.

The Fly opened his arms wide to show his mighty and how much he could help Carson. "Dude, whatever you want me to do, I can do that." He looked like Justin Bieber with swag, but with less perfume and girls—girls at his school hated him so much, because sometimes he flirted on them and asked for second base afterwards. "Geez, okay. I have a gossip to spread to, come here," Carson pulled the Fly's hoodie and he whispered on his ear. Tell the whole Clover that Carson Phillips is died because of a lightning strike and his body is never found because he was burned by the lightning until the last piece of his bone.

The Fly furrowed his forehead. He said, "Dude, but you're here," He gestured his hands through Carson's silhouette and continued, "You're alive." Carson looked around in disappointment and bit his mouth wall. I knew he won't believe me that easy. Carson sighed and said "Okay, how much do you want?" he shoved his pants pocket, looking for his wallet. He opened the wallet and tried to find a piece of $5 that he could give to the Fly as bribe. The Fly didn't work for money; he worked for entertainment and girls. So, when Carson gave him the money, he refused. "Nah, man. I don't work for money, in fact I'm gonna spread that shit like—"—Nutella— "The sunlight!" The Fly pointed his index finger over Carson. Well, that was not the phrase Carson expected. "Man, it is important to save the Mother Nature!" the Fly threw his fist to the air like he was an environment activist. Carson laughed because he had never seen an environment caring drunk man before. "Dude, before you puke on my baby," Carson spanked the front seat next to him "I have to go, and you should too. Remember, spread that gossip, k?" Carson wore his shades again and pointed at the Fly like Uncle Sam. The Fly saluted Carson as he faded away to the mirage.

As Carson travelled to the other side of the States, his death rumor started to outspread to the whole Clover. "… Your son's body is never found, because it was burned and nothing left. I'm really sorry," the Fly tried to deliver the news in his own way—with fake tears and fake regret. Carson's mom, Sheryl, couldn't stand hearing about his son's death. She half-collapsed on her mom's—Carson's grandma—embrace. Neal, Carson's dad, almost had a heart attack, although he didn't have a heart disease record. His new fiancée, April Adams, was shocked. She barely knew Carson until Neal asked him to have a dinner with the two of them. April kept rubbing her pregnant tummy and tears ran down her soft snow white cheeks. She was sympathetic with the situation. She wanted to help, but clearly there was still a small amount of jealousy in Sheryl's heart, that every time she turned her head to April, the only word that had 90% possibility came out from Sheryl's mouth was "It's none of your beeswax, bitch."

Carson's friends believed the story and they made a special ceremony to respect Carson. Clover high was filled with flowers in different colors and photographs of the man, and they circled around the place that they believed was the place where Carson was died (The Fly just made up that Carson was struck by lightning on the football field, but clearly he was struck at the parking lot, but no one knew). Carson's best friend, Malerie Baggs, was in real deep grief. She was the one Carson believed to tell his life to, and she was the one who helped Carson to blackmail the popular kids to write for his literally magazine. Malerie couldn't hold her tears running down her chubby cheeks, even when she documented Carson's symbolic funeral.

The weirdest thing about Carson's fake death was, why did nobody ask where did Carson's car go? If he was really struck by lightning, the car was still on the parking lot, waiting for the owner that would never come forever. But, how did the car disappear? No one realized that. They didn't give a damn on Carson's car, though. They thought his car was taken by a hobo or someone needed. At least Carson did a little give back after his left.

And also, Carson's body. His body was never found because it was still fully functioned, as well as his soul. The only thing that died because of the lightning strike was Carson's sanity. He left his old life behind and started a new life ahead. He knew it was a big risk for him to leave the town, but a big dream goes with a big risk, that was the quote that made Carson sure about his decision. He drove away—far, far away. He didn't stop, not a chance. He just went through the highway to New York, until he realized that he had to get into the University of his Dream, Northwestern University, before he went to New York and became the editor of the New Yorker. And before he entered the University, he had to finish high school first. Crap! Carson forgot the last part. No matter how stink high school was, finishing his study there was the ticket to get into the Northwestern, and studying in Northwestern was the ticket to work in the New Yorker. Carson was confused. How could he think so short? The lightning that struck him must be the root of the problem.

Carson was frustrated. He almost reached Illinois—he changed his destination since the gate to New York was still closed—but he was still not sure about his decision to go to Illinois. He could finish his high school in Illinois, but he took the wrong way, literally. Instead of exiting the highway and went straight to Illinois, he chose to went straight and ended up in Ohio. Ohio, it was weird because the state sounded like when people said hi to each other, but in a weird way.

Carson arrived in Ohio at midnight and ended up in a town called Lima. He went to a motel nearby to freshen up. He also stayed there, until he found a proper place to live. The next day, he asked the receptionist for a high school around the city. "Well, there's a school called William McKinley High not far from here, you could go there. Or, the Dalton Academy, it's an all-boys school in Westerville, but I don't think you're into that kind of stuff." Said the motel receptionist, a Hispanic 40 year-old lady, while examining Carson's messy appearance after his extreme attempt of living Clover. What kind of stuff? Carson thought. Maybe he didn't look all dashing and rich, so the woman didn't recommend Dalton as much as McKinley. "Well, I'll go to McKinley, thanks." Carson took a map of Lima that he asked before, and went straight to McKinley High.

He might be too late to get into a new school, because graduation was in just a month, but he needed to complete his study. Thank God he kept his school certificate and other documents in his trunk, so he could use them whenever he needed. After he processed his school transfer and got his textbooks, locker number, and time table, Carson went to his locker. He tried to open his locker with the combination that the administration lady gave him, but it seemed like the locker was jammed.

"Gah," Carson groaned, trying to open his jammed locker.

Everybody thought someone was watching porn at school, but clearly the groaning came from Carson who was struggling to open his locker.

Still trying to open his locker, suddenly a hand smaller and softer than Carson's touched the back of Carson's hand and released it off the rotating handle. He looked at who it was, and turned out it was a girl. A girl with a long brunette hair that curled in the end and a pair of shimmering big black eyes and thick eyelashes that could swipe away all the sadness of the people who looked at her. In Carson's eyes, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. "You know, this locker used be mine, but it was jammed all the time and it stressed me out, so I asked for a locker change," The girl said with her luscious red lips. "But, I'll try to open it, okay?" the girl rubbed her both palms and tried to open the locker with might and main. But, it was still stuck. The girl sighed. "Do you still want to use this locker? Because, I have a crowbar in my locker, if you want to give a try—"before she could say I'll take it, Carson cut her. "You don't need to do all this for me, I—I'll just ask for another locker." Carson smirked. His smirked could make all the girls swoon. The girl laughed, "Yeah, I think you should just ask for another locker. Hi, I haven't introduced myself formally, so," she put out his hand and Carson shook it gently. He didn't want to hurt the girl's hand. "The name's Starla. What's yours?" said the girl, raised her right eyebrow. "Carson. Carson Phillips." Carson said. Starla pulled her hand back and gestured Carson to walk around the school before the school started. "So, you must be new here," Starla said. Carson nodded. "And what kind of air that brought you into this place? You know, Lima is not the place for newbie. Instead of staying here, people in Lima are trying to get out of this mess." Carson gulped. He tried to make up a reasonable excuse. Come on, come on, you can make a magazine, but you can't make up a reason? You gotta be shitting me!

"My—my parents have a job here, you know, business stuff. So, I have to follow them going from one state to another. Who can't say no to a little adventure?" Carson lied. Phew, that was close.

Starla laughed. "So, rich and handsome. You must have lots of fans back in your hometown, huh?" she elbowed Carson on his ribs. She might look like a weak girl, but she had a really strong power on her hands. Carson's ribs hurt, like a hammer just hit him. "Not really, they all hate me, because they don't understand my dreams and my passion. I was born there, but I don't belong there." Carson scratched the back of his head.

"So, what's your dream that makes them hate you so much?" Starla asked.

"I've always wanted to be in the journalistic world. Become the editor of the New Yorker or Chicago Tribune, and can blow people's mind with my writing," Carson answered. He pointed to the air, like he just got a really kick-ass answer, and said "I also want to get a Nobel Prize." Starla smiled. She never found an ambitious man like Carson before in her entire life. From his words, there was no way his whole hometown hated on him. "Your dreams are really… big, bigger than mine, actually. Nobel Prize? I've never thought about that before." Starla said. Suddenly, Carson's body hindered Starla's steps. Carson was taller than Starla, so he looked like a giant who hindered Thumbelina. "What's your dream that makes you think mine's bigger than yours?" Carson asks.

Starla licked her bottom lips and sighed. She knew it wasn't easy to tell her dreams, because people judged her for her dreams. "My dream is to get out of Lima, go to Harvard, move to LA, and pursue my dreams to be an actress/a singer/a lawyer/an author. Sounds crazy, huh?" Starla glared at Carson. Carson walked beside Starla back and said in a soft voice. "That's not crazy at all. In fact I'm going to salute you if you can pursue those dreams. Keep doing what you're doing, okay?" Carson punched Starla's right arm. He didn't know how to interact with girls, that is why every time Sheryl or Neal asked him if he had a girlfriend or not, he kept saying, 'What's the use of having a girlfriend and end up like you guys when I can chase my dreams and become a head editor of a famous newspaper and make girls come to me easily?'

"So, we seem to have a similarity. You and I, we both write," Carson shoved both of his hands into his hoodie pockets. "What kind of work you usually write?" Carson asked. His body bumped into Starla's a few times when they were walking, meant that he was quite nervous around her and he couldn't coordinate his move after the long journey to Lima. As soon as they passed the astronomy class full of students who were admiring the beauty of solar system, Starla answered "I love writing stories. In fact, I'm trying to write a novel. And I really wish it could be as phenomenal as Harry Potter, Twilight—""Fifty Shades Series?" Carson cut Starla again. Starla punched Carson on his chest and shouted "You perv! Ew!" Carson just laughed around in a goofy way. It was his first attempt to make a pervy joke—somehow it was kind of awkward.

As they arrived in front of McKinley High's choir room 30 minutes before the bell rang, Starla pulled Carson's hand to go into the room. "I have to join the glee club meeting before heading to the class, come in, let's see if you have any interest in music or show tune." Starla forced Carson to come inside. "But, I have geography lesson later, I don't want to be late for my first class." Carson reasoned. "I'm in geography class, too. Don't worry, Mr. Newton won't notice our missing."

Finally, Carson followed Starla. That was not what Carson usually did; following people. As he entered the room, a group of people suddenly went into a dead silent. He saw people's faces were surprised and they didn't move a bit. The glee kids were staring at Carson.

"Kurt?" a petite man, wearing a maroon shirt buttoned up until the top of its collar and a pair of skinny goldenrod pants with lots of hair gel greased all over his black hair, exclaimed in deep shock. The man who was known as Blaine Anderson stared at Carson like he just saw a ghost. Carson furrowed his forehead, because Blaine just called him with a name that he didn't even know. Starla pushed Carson to the chairs on the corner. They sat on the upper row, on the corner of the room. A few moments later, Carson asked Starla, "What was that?" "What was what?" Starla was confused. "You know, why did he call me 'Kurt'? I don't even know any Kurt in my life." Carson glanced at Blaine, who was starting to drip his tears one by one from his hazel eyes. "Hmm," Starla hummed "His name is Blaine. He has a boyfriend named Kurt and they never see each other this few months. They had a pretty rough break up. And I saw this Kurt's photo and he looks pretty much like you," Starla glared at Carson deeply, and continued "But, you're hotter." Starla painted a smirk on her cherry red lips. Carson almost flew off from reality and went to heaven for one millisecond. "I'm sure Blaine loves his boyfriend so much." Carson said. "Yeah, they loved each other very much, until a few bumps they couldn't stay together. I feel sorry for them, actually, especially Blaine. He's getting miserable and miserable every day." Starla shook her head while staring at Blaine's hopelessly in love behavior. He looked like he just lost half part of his life.

No longer after feeling sorry for Blaine's life, the teacher who ran the glee club, Mr. William Schuester, came inside. The similar reaction came from Mr. Schuester, who was really shocked after seeing Carson. "Kurt, I didn't know you were coming." Mr. Schue said while putting his papers on the top of the piano.

"He's not Kurt Hummel," Starla responded, and made the whole glee club glared in confusion.

"His name is Carson Phillips, he is new in town. I brought him here because I wanted to show him McKinley High inside-out, and maybe he is interested in joining the glee club, right?" Starla winked at Carson. Carson had never put his interest in music in his entire life. The only song that he could sing on his best was the national anthem. And he considered joining the glee club? Insane.

"I'm just accompanying Starla, that's all. I don't sing k." Carson said which made the glee club disappointed. "But, you can audition. Just give it a try, okay? Who knows maybe you're hiding a golden voice all this time." Mr. Schue said calmly. "But, I haven't prepared any song. Maybe if I could audition tomorrow, I could prepare the whole thing. And, trust me, it's gonna be kick-ass." Carson said confidently.

"Sure, no problem." Mr. Schue said generously.

Please, Kindly review. Thank you :)