'Hard Times'
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Part 1
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Chanel had been at McKinley High for just under a week and she already hated it. Bigots and assholes roamed the corridors and were treated like royalty while the kinder, open-minded folk were treated like a turd on one's shoe – nasty and unwelcomed. Funnily enough, they all belonged to the Glee club which was led by none other than Mr. Schuester.
Despite disliking the teacher, Chanel had found herself entertaining the idea of joining the club for the simple fact that she wanted friends. Having moved a total of thirty eight times in the last four years, not only crossing state borders but crossing oceans as well, she had made a big reserve of acquaintances but had never managed to make a friend.
But things were looking up for her family now and for the first time, in a long time, Chanel felt she could relax and live. Living meant having friends and making the most out of senior year.
There was no way in hell that she was going to waste her time with the cheerios or the jocks. That wasn't an option. It wasn't that she had any delusions about the Glee club. She knew they weren't perfect. Some had anger management issues; others had a severe case of narcissism. Some were just a touch too naïve and others had no idea how to deal with their problems so took it out on their friends.
Years of moving around and watching folk interact without ever really joining in had taught Chanel how to read people. So no, the Glee club wasn't perfect but it was a step up from the rest of the student body.
Her chance to meet the New Directions was given to her by Principal Figgins, who'd stopped her and two boys in a crowded hallway. She didn't know why, nor particularly cared, but the man had been in a deep conversation with an angry Sue Sylvester and it was crucial that Schuester join them.
Well, she could do that. Anxiously, her hand went up to her hair furiously pushing a bobby pin back into place. Her hair, which was a mass of dark brown curls that reached bellow her shoulders was always a mess. She hated it on most days. Her almond shaped brown eyes searched the corridor for the teacher as she walked toward the choir room. No one paid any attention to the dark skinned girl and for now, she was content. It wouldn't last. Her moods never did.
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[Choir Room]
They talked. They always talked, but somehow today was worse than the other times. No matter how loud Will Schuester spoke, his students ignored him and continued their various rants. Currently, the loudest was Santana, who had begun swearing in Spanish and poking Finn in the shoulder. Mercedes was the second loudest and seemed to be supporting anything and everything the feisty Latina said.
Tina was sitting beside Mercedes, angry, and Mike had him arm around her shoulders, comforting her. The only ones who seemed unaffected by the arguing were Sam, Blaine, Artie and Kurt who were in a deep discussion.
"Stop the violence," whispered Brittany over and over again, flinching when Santana's voice grew even louder.
"You know what, Santana? Just because Finn doesn't agree with out, doesn't mean he's as insensitive and naïve as you say he is." Rachel defended her boyfriend only to earn an annoyed groan from Puck who'd been silent until then.
"Can you all just shut up?" he said. "Finn's a dumbass, I thought we all already knew this."
"Honestly, I don't understand how you can even consider that. Your brother is gay, your girlfriend is Jewish and you have Black, Hispanic and Asian friends-" started Quinn.
"We are not his friends!" yelled Mercedes and Santana at the same time.
"Guys! Enough." Mr. Schue interrupted the argument, exasperated. "What is going on?"
As he had expected, no one but Rachel made a move to answer. As she spoke, he caught sight of several eye rolls and grimaces. "Finn was merely suggesting that certain people," said Rachel with a pointed look at Santana. "Are too sensitive when it comes to Halloween costumes and their significance. He has a point."
"Oh, hell no!" Mercedes shot her a glare. "Are you going to tell me you wouldn't mind if some guy dressed up as a holocaust victim and paraded around town for candy?"
"It's hardly the same-"
"It's EXACTLY the same thing!"
Again, Mr. Schue interrupted the argument before Santana could jump on his star performer. "Santana," he said in warning.
"I'm just not looking forward to seeing a bunch of ignorant assholes wearing sombreros and riding inflatable donkeys while eating a taco and speaking with a crappy accent like my culture is some type of joke." She shrugged.
Mr. Schue sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "All right. This week will focus on songs about the problems you see in society. Channel your rage in your songs-"
"Signing isn't going to help this, Mr. Schue," said Mercedes.
"I agree." Quinn leaned forward in her chair put a supportive had on her friend's shoulder. "Some things need to be-"
A loud knock interrupted her, and all eyes shifted to the doorway where Chanel and the two boys stood. If the girl was nervous it didn't show as she strolled into the class and crossed to Mr. Schue, holding a paper in one hand.
Aware that all eyes were on her, Chanel kept her face stoic and waved the paper. "I've a warrant for your arrest, Mr. William Schuester." The two boys who had entered the choir room with her flanked his sides and grabbed his arms.
"Excuse me?" Incredulous, the Teacher attempted to shake out of the boys' grasp.
"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, blah blah blah. Take him away boys." Chanel fought back a laugh as the two boys picked Mr. Schue off his feet and carried him out of the room. When he was gone, she turned to face the Glee club and smiled, ignoring the nervous twisting of her belly. "Hi."
"Excuse me," shaken, Rachel stood. "Who are you?"
"Chanel Taylor, who the hell are you?" Of course, she already knew who Rachel was. She knew who everyone present was, but the stress gave her a bad case of rudeness. "I'm sorry, that was impolite."
"Why is Mr. Schue being carried around the school by two dudes?" asked Jake Puckerman, entering the choir room and settling in the seat beside Sam.
"The new girl arrested him," said Sam solemnly. "It was the vests, I'm sure of it."
"He should have entered the twelve steps program like I told him last year." Santana shrugged and eyed the newcomer. "Why are you still here?"
Chanel nervously began playing with the ring she wore in her left hand. "I'd like to join Glee club, if it's all right."
"No, no it's not all right. You had Mr. Schuester arrested!" Rachel marched down the steps, furiously. "Can you even sing or dance?"
"I can sing but I'm not… I'm not the best." Chanel offered a smile. "And I can't dance one bit."
"Chanel, it's sweet that you want to join our family but we don't accept strays. And I'm sorry, but you really should have thought about that before you arrested Mr. Schue."
The choir room was silent, which could only mean everyone agreed with the quick talking brunette. "Right, well… I best get going." Chanel smiled widely, masking the hurt. "Couldn't hurt to try." With a slight wave, she was leaving the classroom in a way that could only be defined as skipping.
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[Principal Figgins' Office]
Will Schuester was shaken. Never had students literally picked him up off the ground and carried him to Figgins' office before. Had he been scared? No, he'd be terrified. But that fear had been transformed into anger the moment he saw Sue laughing. This time she'd gone too far.
"Sue! You cannot send these kids to do your dirty work." He said, struggling to keep his voice from raising.
"Oh, calm down, William. Some people would be happy to be carried around the school." Figgins smiled and hid a chuckle behind his hand. "Sue has raised some concerns about your Glee club."
Distract, Mr Schue ran a hand through his hair. "What did they do now?"
"It's not what they've done, Will. It's what they're going to do. As if the world wasn't twisted and cruel enough, you had to contribute and make a mockery out of music. And Will," Sue put a hand on his shoulder, smiling sadly. "I understand. It's not your fault your hair sucks the juice out of your brain for shine. You had the choice between shiny curls or a healthy brain and you chose the hair. Who's to say in your position, I wouldn't have done the same? Even though your hair makes you look like SpongeHair SquareChin."
"What are you getting at, Sue?" asked Schue.
"I am going to help you."
"Help me what?"
"Fix your Glee club, William." Figgins settled back into his chair, obviously pleased that the two were making plans together.
"My Glee club is fine the way it is, Sue. But thanks for the offer." Schue moved toward the door, but hesitated. "What's your angle, Sue?"
"There's no angle. Your Glee club has been at each other's throats for the last few days and you haven't even noticed. How do expect to win Regionals if your members can't stand each other?" Sue crossed her arms, her jaw setting. Any other day, Schue would have assumed this to be some part of a master plan to bring his downfall but something in her eyes told him to take her seriously.
"What happened?" he asked wearily.
"I heard Santana and Aretha talking this morning. They're angry and thinking about quitting your precious Glee club."
Schue smiled and shook his head. "They argued with Finn today. They wouldn't leave because a small disagreement."
His oblivious nature only angered Sue. "It is not just a small disagreement. Your boy needs to understand that some things are not okay. They raised concern that don't just bother them, but insult them and it's swept under the rug like it doesn't matter. That's why you won't win Regionals. You can't win something if your team is broken."
"William," said Figgins. "Sue is right. This needs to be fixed."
He wasn't sure if she was right or not, but it made enough sense to worry him. "What does this have to do with you, Sue?"
"I disagreed when Porcelain was bullied, I disagreed when Santana was publicly outed and I disagreed when the girls passed jokes on spousal abuse. Now I disagree with these cultures being mocked."
"You have one week, William." Figgins leaned forward. "You fix your glee club or Sue will join your team and fix it for you."
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[McKinley Hallway]
Noah Puckerman was a man on a mission. The mission was almost hopeless and emotionally exhausting, but it needed to be completed. Saving his brother from himself was the right thing to do, right? He didn't even know. Up until a few weeks ago, the closest thing he had to a brother was his friends.
Someone could have warned him that a younger, angrier version of himself would be roaming the halls of McKinley high. It would have been the nice thing to do. Now he was stuck with a bitter brother and a past that needed to be accepted.
He found Jake at his locker, talking to some brunette chick. Marcy, if he recalled correctly. Noah was fairly certain he'd made out with her once. Or maybe twice. Without saying a word, he grabbed his brother's shoulder and dragged him away from the girl.
"What the hell? Let go!" Jake struggled out of Noah's grasp and glared. "What do you want?"
"I thought it would be a good idea if you had supper with my mom and I this weekend. We could all get to know each other." Noah offered a smile that quickly faded upon seeing his brother's expression.
Jake scoffed and picked up the backpack he'd dropped to swing it over his shoulder. "Hell no. Having the same dad doesn't make us brothers so you can take your invitation and shove it up your-"
"Why are you so angry at me? I didn't even know you existed until a few weeks and I'm trying to make this okay but you're making it really hard. Stop acting like a punk!" Noah's voice rose as he spoke, and he balled his fists. "You're not the only one who got hurt by him!"
"Shut up." The younger Puckerman shook his head and attempted to walk away, but Noah stepped in front of him. "You need to back off, man. I joined your stupid club but I'm not having any bonding moment over our deadbeat dad with you."
"You think you're so badass? What happens when you have nothing left but bitterness? You think one of your girls would go out of their way to help you?" Noah sneered. "They don't care about us. But I get it. I told you, we're not that different. If you'd stop being so stubborn-"
The first punch hit him squarely in the jaw, and had Noah seeing stars. His head snapped back, and lifted a hand to touch his lip. "What the hell was that for?" he yelled.
"For not minding your own damn business! I told you: leave it alone! You don't know me."
"But I want to!" By now, they had attracted the attention of everyone in the hallway. Noah didn't care. This was just another way his father was winning. "I'm not him. We're bros, man. I won't abandon you."
If there was anything Noah could have said to make matter, that was it. Abandonment triggered a defensive response from Jake, who'd grown even more uncomfortable with the conversation as time went on. Within seconds the two brothers were on the ground, throwing punches and kicks. Though Jake had started it, Noah got his fair share of punches thrown in.
The chorus of cheers and whoops from their audience angered Noah but only seemed to encourage Jake. Finally, the two were dragged apart by Mike and Sam.
"Stop it, Jake!" yelled Sam, pulling him away. "What's going on?"
"Tell your friend to leave me the hell alone." Jake straightened his shirt before walking away.
"Stop being a coward!" Noah called after him, only to be flipped off.
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[Choir Room]
The boys- Sam, Finn, and Artie- were the first to perform that week and if anyone had expected some touching revelation of concern, they would have been sadly disappointed. The only thing that could be said was that they had enjoyed themselves, despite the inevitable storm of trouble they would get from their friends.
"Me and all my friends, we're all misunderstood. They say we stand for nothing and there's no way we ever could." Sam sang, plucking the strings of his guitar. "Now we see everything that's going wrong with the world and those who lead it. We just feel like we don't have the means to rise above and beat it."
Santana crossed her arms and grimaced. Who the hell did this big-lipped Blondie think he was trying to kid? There were no excuses for cowardice as far as she was concerned. When it came to rights, you were either against them or for them. There was no middle ground.
The boys came in together to sing the chorus, which only caused Mike to tighten his hold on Tina as her jaw clenched.
"Now if we had the power, to bring our neighbors home from war," sang Finn, from behind his drum kit. "They would have never missed a Christmas, no more ribbons on their door."
Brittany drummed her fingers on her laps, bobbing her head to the beat and smiling. Mr. Schue paid an unnatural amount of attention to Santana and Mercedes' reactions, sighing. Sue was right. There was tension in the room and the girls were reaching their limit.
"And when you trust your television, what you get is what you got." Artie sang this time, but his eyes narrowed seeing his friends' expressions. "'Cause when they own the information. Oh, they can bend it all they want."
"That's why we're waiting, waiting on the world to change. We keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change. It's not that we don't care, we just know that the fight ain't fair." The boys joined in again for the chorus, grinning at Brittany who was mouthing the lyrics to the song. Mercedes and Santana didn't speak, but crossed their arms at the same time. Mr. Schue had seen that look before. Santana had worn it during his infamous mariachi performance. This time however, Mercedes and, he'd noticed on close inspection, Tina wore the exact same expression.
Their silence unnerved him. Even as the boys finished they made to move to clap or even smile. They sat, stone-faced, as their friends clapped for the three boys.
"Thank you, boys!" Mr. Schue grinned, clapping a hand on Finn's back as he went back to his seat. "Very good performance!"
"Is this a joke?" said Mercedes. "I mean this has to be a joke. You tell us to sing about what bothers us in society, and they sing a song about being too chicken to do anything and it's very good?"
"I've decided it's a joke," agreed Tina. "Because our teacher couldn't possibly be suggesting that doing nothing is a better alternative to doing something."
"I'm just going to come out and say it." Santana stood. "All of you who agree with that ridiculous song can go to hell."
"Hey," said Finn. "We get it, you're angry but we can't do anything. At least we know and agree the world's messed up. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"No!" Tina shook her head, and stood. "What we wanted was support."
"We are supporting you!" exclaimed Sam.
"Doing nothing is the same thing as being against us. How are you supporting anything when you don't speak up in our favor?" Mercedes glared at him. "I would have thought that you, out of all people would understand that, Sam." Disappointed, she stood and joined the other two girls in front of the group.
"Girls, I think you're taking this too far." Mr. Schue made a poor attempt to calm them down which only resulted in Santana raising her eyebrows.
"Oh, you think I'm taking this too far? Okay, how's this: anyone I see dressed up as a Mexican on Halloween is going to have a really really hard year."
"Santana, I won't have you threatening other students-"
"Of course you won't!" said Santana, before she could stop herself. "You're as racist as they are."
"Santana!"
"Mariachi, Mr. Schue! Don't pretend it never happened!" she yelled, walking out of the choir room. "Usted es la peor maestra del mundo! Well," she snapped, looking at Tina and Mercedes. "Are you going to come or not?"
And Mr. Schue watched with horror as the three girls left the choir room together. Sue had been right, and he'd just worsened the situation.
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[Ms. Pillsbury's Office]
"You've been here for a week, Chanel. How are you adjusting?" Emma's voice was soothing and understanding, a big difference from the condescending tones Chanel was used to.
How had the past week been? Horrible. She had no friends, no sense of community and had trouble adjusting to the mentality of McKinley High. Still, she smiled and cocked her head to the side. "It's been a good week. I already love it here."
Emma didn't look convinced, but she nodded. "And how are you feeling today?" she asked.
Chanel's smile faltered. It was a loaded question, and they both knew it. "I'm fine," she said finally. "Of course, I'm fine."
"You know you can tell me if there's something wrong." Emma leaned forward. "I won't tell anyone."
"I was thinking I might want to get my hair cut. New school, new image." Chanel smiled wistfully, changing the subject. "Maybe I'll put on a bit of weight. I'm rather thin, don't you think? I could have curves like Sofia Vergara. Maybe I could be beautiful."
Her last statement worried Emma, who made a note in her notebook. "Chanel, why don't you tell me how this week has really been."
Chanel rubbed a hand over her face and sighed. "It's been hard. I made a mistake and came on too strong. It doesn't matter. I'll be gone soon anyway. They won't even remember me." She smiled and shook her head. "If I was normal, none of this would have happened. I'd have friends, I wouldn't feel so empty."
"You are normal-"
"No, I'm not." Chanel snapped impatiently. "Normal people don't… Normal people don't do the things I do. Anyway, I have a hair color to choose so I'll see you later."
Emma reached behind her to get a pamphlet and pushed it into Chanel's hand. "Take this before you go. Look at it."
When she did, Chanel frowned. So the sirens keep calling? A guide to controlling your BPD. "What am I going to do with this?" she asked.
"Read it and we'll talk more about it next week. Don't do anything too drastic to your hair. You know you may regret any decision you take while you're in this mood." Emma smiled kindly, and glanced at the door when Mr. Schue knocked. "Come in."
Quickly, Chanel stuffed the pamphlet in her jacket pocket and winced upon seeing who was there.
"I'm sorry for interrupting." He said, glancing at Chanel. "I need to speak to Emma."
"Sure, I'm sorry." Chanel stood awkwardly just as Emma began to speak.
"Will, I was thinking that Chanel could benefit from the Glee club." She said softly. "I think it would do her some good. Doctor's orders."
"I'm sure, Mr. Schue doesn't want-"
"It'll be fine," Emma assured her. "Right, Will?"
Mr. Schue looked between the two, frowning, and made a mental note to ask Emma about the situation later. "Right. I'll see you at practice this afternoon."
"Yes, sir." Attempting to hide her glee, but failing, Chanel hurried out of the room. The week suddenly got more interesting. Maybe her hair wouldn't have to change after all.
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