My name is Shawn Morrison, and I'm a newly-appointed Lima Loser at William McKinley High School. Sure, I may not be popular or pretty or smart or a Cheerio, but I like to think that I'm a unique and proud individual, and that's what sets me apart from...

The imaginary VoiceOver in my head is suddenly interrupted by Karofsky, a 200-pound monster on the football team, shoving me into a locker. He and his equally as frightening friends walk off laughing, while I take a deep breath and dust off my shoulders.

Who am I kidding? I'm not special. I'm just a shy and slightly overweight 15-year-old girl with no self-esteem and the inability to do anything right. And I'm surrounded by people who are supposed to be going through everything I am, but are totally different.

It sucks, and so does high school.

The only thing I actually like about high school is Glee club, which is where I'm going now. It's the one place where I don't feel just like everyone else. Sure, I still feel like a loser when I walk the halls afterwards, just waiting to have a slushy thrown in my face, but I don't feel like I'm just blending in the crowd so much. I feel proud about myself, when I'm singing with people who know what it's like to be me. Or, at least I think they do.

The Glee kids are probably among the nicest kids in the school. They accept diversity, they know what it's like to be the underdog, and they aren't afraid to stand up for their friends.

The thing is, though, that they've been together for a whole year now. They know each other, they have a history together, and even though they're nice and pleasant to me, I'm not one of them and I'll never be.

I walk into the choir room and take a seat in the back corner, separated from Rachel, whose ranting on about how she hasn't done a Barbra Streisand number in almost a month to Finn, who looks bored out of his mind. Britney and Santana are busy texting (each other, probably), Puck and Sam are talking football, Mercedes and Kurt are gushing over the latest cover of Vogue, and the Asians are snuggling each other awkwardly in the corner opposite mine.

And then there's me. To keep from looking like a complete loner, I take out my phone until Mr. Schuester arrives.

"Sorry I'm late, guys," Mr. Schuester walks into the room, putting his bag down on the piano. He heads straight for the whiteboard and writes 'PASSION' in bold letters. That can only mean one thing. "This week's going to be all about passion and soul; really tapping into your deepest emotions when you're performing onstage. As a musician, you guys will have to get used to really exposing yourself in front of the audience."

"Does that mean we have to sing naked?" Finn asks. He's a bit dimwitted.

"The last time I did that Lord Tubbington sent me to a feline sanitarium for three weeks." Oh, and so is Brittany.

"No, guys," Mr. Schuester shakes his head. "I mean exposing yourself in the sense that you're letting all your emotions rise to the surface, so you become totally vulnerable to the audience."

"Mr. Schuester, if I may," Rachel lifts her finger in the air, as only Rachel Berry can. She trots up to the front of the class. "As we all know that I've already mastered this week's assignment, I think it would be fitting for me to perform my heartfelt rendition of Celine Dion's iconic hit, My Heart Will Go On."

Before Mr. Schue can protest, Brad (the piano guy) has already begun playing, and Rachel is already belting out the lyrics with her excessive, over-dramatized emotion. At least that's my opinion.

Every night in my dreams,

I see you,

I feel you...

I tune Rachel out, because God knows I've listened to her enough in the short three weeks I've been in Glee club. As annoying as I find Rachel, I have to admit she has an absolutely stunning voice that I'd kill for, and I'm tremendously jealous of her voice. And how pretty and smart she is, and how she's dating Finn, the hottest and nicest guy on the football team.

To be honest, though, I'm jealous of everyone in here, and even though every teenager is supposed to be insecure and compare themselves to everyone else, I know that every girl in here has never compared herself to me and had any hint of jealousy.

Once more you open the door

And you're here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on...

Mr. Schuester is sitting to the right of me, a few chairs down. It's plain to see that he's as bored as I am, but at least he's trying to show a little interest in his student's performance.

For the past three weeks I've been in Glee club, I've actually avoided singing on my own. The only time I actually sung alone was for the audition, only in front of Mr. Schuester, who was nice and told me the audition went great and that everyone who wanted to be in Glee club was automatically in anyway. I've tagged along with someone for the assignments, like Artie or Rachel, swaying in the background and lending a little noise power for the chorus. Other than that, I'm a complete Glee performing virgin and plan to stay that way. Because I want to stay in Glee club, and at least belong someplace in this stupid school. So, I'm anxiously awaiting the day when I'll be forced to sing all by my lonesome, and my intuition is telling me that this is the week.

Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on...

I feel like I'm going to wet my pants or burst into tears or do something equally as humiliating while I sit here is a paralyzed state of utter panic. How could I get out of this one? I could fake sick, or protest against something and take a week-long vow of silence, or just happen to miss Glee club every day of this week because of my dumb-blondness. Even though I'm not blonde, I doubt anyone pays attention to my hair anyways.

But, what's the point of even being in Glee club if I'm afraid to sing, or stand up in front of the group or even speak to any of them? I'm pathetic, really, and I don't belong here. People like Rachel belong here, who can totally nail a Celine Dion ballad at any given moment. Everyone here can do that, except for me. And maybe the Asian boy, but he has insanely sick dance moves that MJ himself would envy. I'm so intimated by everyone in here. I don't have any musical gifts; the only thing that's keeping me in here is Mr. Schuester's 'no exclusion' policy. When everyone finds out that I can't sing, they'll demand I'm kicked out and I'll become even more of an outcast at McKinley High than I already am.

...And my heart will go on and on...

When Rachel hits that high note, pitch perfect. I suddenly get a strong urge to either smack her in the face or weep. Jealousy is an awful thing.

Everyone claps for Rachel, including myself, because she certainly did the song justice despite anything I might think of her.

"That was great, Rach," Mr. Schuester says, returning to the front of the room. "But you didn't quite get at what I'm looking for in this assignment," I look over to Rachel, who looks completely shocked/disgusted/humiliated. "I want you guys to find a song with real heartfelt lyrics that describes something you've gone through in your life. I want this to be really personal, guys; I want to see some raw emotion up here by the end of the week."

Finn raises his hand. "Could this be a group assignment?"

"No, Finn," Mr. Schue says. "This is individual. I'd like each one of you to find a song that hits home, for you only."

Mr. Schuester looks directly at me. I must look absolutely shell-shocked. He smiles, "That means you, Shawn. No backup vocals this week."

Everyone's looking at me, waiting for some response, and that makes me tremendously nervous.

"Got it," I tell him.

"Good," he says. "Now I'll give you guys a few minutes to work on it, while I get settled. Then I think we should work on some choreography for sectionals."

Everyone groups into their little cliques, to talk aimlessly about which song they're going to perform. I hear Quinn spout, "This is so stupid. To hell with emotions, I'm doing Ke$ha."

Santana crosses her arms. "I really think I should dedicate a song to the fact that I'm totally surrounded by idiotic peasants."

Frankly, I think that if she weren't such a bitch, we could get along.

While everyone is ranting to their friends, despite the fact that nobody is listening to anyone but themselves, I'm just sitting here, feeling totally out of place. I glance around, but there isn't even room for me to pretend to be apart of one of them.

My eyes glance over to Mr. Schuester, who is flipping through sheets of paper at the piano, and we make eye contact. I give him an awkward smile, and take out my phone so that I look like I'm doing something. I try to read the expression on Mr. Schue's face; is it sympathetic, annoyed, confused? I can't tell, but it's probably something along the lines of 'Sorry, kid, you're outta here after you're clobbered by everyone else's performances'.

Thanks, Mr. Schue, I think to myself. That'll be great.

After a few minutes Mr. Schuester has us practice a dance routine we might do for sectionals. It's set to the Gaga song, 'Just Dance', which Rachel will be singing as the rest of us dance around her. Thankfully, I have some decent coordination so I get through the steps with some dignity. Plus, everyone is concentrating too hard on their own dance steps to notice when I fumble, and Mr. Schuester has his back to us, showing us the footwork.

When the bell rings, I'm thankful that it's over, only because I don't have to feel like I have to watch myself and pray I won't do anything stupid out of nervousness. Truly, though, I kinda enjoy Glee club, because it's far better than being at home and facing my father. And it's nice to know that I technically belong someplace.

"Good job today, guys," Mr. Schue says as we leave. "See you tomorrow."

I grab my bag from the chair and am almost out the door when Mr. Schue calls my name. "Hey, Shawn. You mind if I talk to you for a second?"

My initial instinct is to say something like, 'No, I really have to be getting home', but something stops me. My nagging conscience, curiosity, the fact I really don't want to go home. I don't know, but instead of continuing on my way, I turn around and go to him beside the piano.

"How've you been liking Glee club these past few weeks?" he asks. "I haven't gotten a chance to ask you yet."

"That's all you want to ask me?" I say, sounding quite stupid, I'm sure. This is why I have to watch myself; thank God they're aren't any students in here, because enough 'stupid moments' and word gets around, thus depleting my reputation even further. High school is a tricky game.

Mr. Schuester laughs, nodding his head as he puts papers in his bag.

"It's good," I tell him, only partially lying. "Really good."

"Really?" he asks me. He looks at me and, what with my eye-contact anxiety, I feel like he can see right into my soul. I feel very vulnerable. "You didn't look too happy today. Distracted. Have you made any friends at McKinley yet?"

"Um, not really," I say, being honest. I find it weird that he, a teacher, is actually inquiring about my social life. "But it's okay, really. I've always been kind of a loner."

"These Glee kids are really great kids, Shawn. You're one of them now, so don't be afraid to try and befriend them," he puts a hand on my shoulder. "They won't bite!"

I smile. "Right, Mr. Schue. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I just want you to feel comfortable in here, and you sure didn't look that today."

"Right."

"And," he puts grabs his bag and heads for the door. I instinctively follow him. "If you need to talk, my door is always open."

"Right," I say. "Thanks."

"No problem," he says. We're walking down the deserted halls now, which is something I secretly love to do because the school looks totally different without all the kids crowding it. More pure, more innocent and more like a 'learning environment' than a hell on earth. "So, what song are you going to do this week?"

"Um, I… uh…" I stutter, ashamed that I have no idea even though he gave us actual class time to think about it. "I… I don't really know yet."

"Don't worry; you've got time to think about it," Mr. Schue assures me. "I'm looking forward to your performance. We haven't seen you do a solo yet."

He says it like I haven't noticed. "Yeah, I know."

"You nervous?"

I chuckle to myself. "Yeah, a little."

"That's natural, Shawn," he tells me. We've reached the front doors, and he holds the door for me. "You'll be great."

"Thanks," I tell him.

He takes a keychain out of his pocket. "Have you got a ride home?"

"No," I say. "I just live a few minutes away, so I'm walking."

"Okay," he walks towards the teacher's parking lot. "I'll see you at tomorrow morning's rehearsal, right?"

"Yep," I say, walking towards the sidewalk.

"See you then, Shawn," he waves goodbye, and I do in return. "Have a good night."

"You too."

I walk towards the street, onto the sidewalk, take out my earbuds and put them in my ears. I play a playlist I've called 'Homeward Bound', because that's when I listen to it, and it's after one of my mom's favourite songs; Homeward Bound by Simon and Garfunkel. It helps me collect my thoughts after 6 hours in school, and features some of my favourite groups– Young the Giant, The Police, Marc Cohen, The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, among others.

Simon and Garfunkel's hit, The Boxer, plays into my ears as Mr. Schue's blue minivan drives past. He waves to me from the driver's seat before turning into the street.

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises…