People thought Dave Karofsky was stupid. Dave knew that. He also knew that they were full of crap. He used to get straight A's, back before Jewfro posted Hudson's report card on his blog and suddenly failing was the thing to do. No, he was actually pretty smart, he thought as he pulled up in front of the entrance to Dalton Academy. How else could he have come up with a plan like this?

It had started with his weekly perusal of Ben Israel's blog. That scary cheer coach, Miss Sylvester, had become the director of that other glee club. Normally, it wouldn't have been such a big deal, except according to Jewfro, she'd pushed the other director down the stairs.

Normally, it wasn't something Dave would have thought of doing in a million years. Yeah, he slushied the losers from time to time, roughed them up a bit, but that was something Puckerman and Hudson had started. Dave paused for a moment, fighting the resentment. Puckerman and Hudson, the golden boys who got to ruin his life and then prance off to their glee club, leaving him to be the bad guy, the screw up. Hudson got everything.

He even got Hummel to follow him around like he was some kind of god. If Dave got Hummel to look at him like that, no disgust, no hatred in those pretty blue eyes… well, he wouldn't leave him hanging while he chased after Berry, that's for sure.

Dave wasn't stupid. He knew that Hummel hated him, even knew why, to a degree. But he was also sure that anything could be accomplished if you went about it the right way. Wasn't that what the Beiste and Schuester were going on about all the time? He could do anything, if he put his mind to it? The only problem was that he didn't know what to put his mind to. Until he read Jewfro's blog.

Miss Sylvester pushed one guy down the stairs. A quick shove, a little tumbling, the guy was only in the hospital for a month or so. And Miss Sylvester got his job, and reclaimed her spot as the school's top badass all in one day.

Normally, it wasn't something Dave would ever do. But ever since Hummel came back to Mckinley, his rep had been falling faster than Fabray had dropped that baby weight. Not to mention the way that Hummel looked at him. Like he was stupid. Like he was disgusting. Every time he saw that look, Dave could swear that his heart was snapped in two. And if one little shove could make all of that go away…

He was a little afraid that they wouldn't let him in the school. He didn't have one of those uniforms after all. But no one stopped him as he made his way into the common room. He wasn't in his letterman jacket for once, opting to dress in his dad's dress slacks and a button up shirt instead. He felt oddly naked and out of place as he made his way up the main staircase. He winced as the hard marble clacked against the soles of his dress shoes. That was going to hurt. And this was a big staircase. By the top Dave had decided to find another spot.

Of course, that was the moment Anderson walked past him in the hall.

They were in a group of three, Anderson's olive skin a contrast to the black guy and Asian kid that flanked him on either side. They were like a uniformed poster for ethnic acceptance. Anderson didn't notice him, he was deep in conversation with the dark skinned boy to his left. The Asian kid on his right noticed him, though, a sort of politely puzzled look on his face as he walked past. Dave instantly shuffled to the side, casting his eyes to the floor and crossing his arms over his chest, praying that the kid didn't say anything to him. He breathed a sigh of relief as they went passed him, heading for the staircase.

Here it was. Now or never.

Dave began walking toward them, wincing again as he saw that staircase, a great, long thing with polished marble steps. It would be just like a locker shove, he decided. Anderson couldn't be that badly hurt. A broken arm, maybe, like the one Dave got from playing hockey freshman year. Maybe a concussion. He would be in the hospital for a few weeks, tops, and by that time, the rumors would have solidified, and Dave would be king of the school, undisputed. He would take Anderson's boyfriend, just like Miss Sylvester had taken that guys job. Jewfro would write about him in his blog, and people would comment, saying stuff like, 'last time I mess with Dave Karofsky' and 'that's hilarious'.

Kurt would talk about him with that shine in his perfect eyes, he would kiss him like he kissed Anderson that one time the boy came to visit Mckinley. One shove, and all of the bad feelings, all of the problems would go away. It would be just like a locker shove, just the same…

Still, Dave hesitated. It wasn't until the Asian boy turned around again, saw him, and opened his mouth to talk that Dave was forced into action.

"Hey, Anderson!" He yelled. He saw the boy turn, saw his dark eyes widen in recognition and maybe a little fear as he saw Dave storming up to him. Anderson took a step back, wobbling slightly as he accidently stepped over the edge of the first step.

Dave walked right up to him and shoved him as hard as he could.

The next few moments were a blur. Dave watched as the Asian boy stared, his eyes wide with horror, he grabbed at the black boy, throwing him back as he lunged for his friend.

"Blaine!"

Anderson only screamed once, a companion to the snap of his wrist breaking against the marble. The next instant, he tumbled down and there was another sickening crack! when his head hit the step. The entire common room was silent, apart from the thuds and cracks of Anderson's limp body hitting the marble steps. Then he finally hit the ground, crumpling in a heap at the bottom of the staircase.

It wasn't hilarious at all.

The Asian boy continued to stare at him. There was a sudden scream from one of the boys, and Dave began running down the staircase.

His heart nearly stopped when he slipped halfway down the staircase, grabbing at the railing with one hand. A sick rush of terror hit him – was that how Anderson had felt? – and he looked down to see what he had slipped on. His stomach raced into his throat at the sight of the blood covering the step.

He ran past the group that had already gathered around Anderson's unmoving body.

"Is he breathing?"

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

"Don't touch him, his neck might be broken…"

"Blaine? Blaine, can you hear me? Blaine, wake up…"

"His ears are bleeding…"

"Blaine! Blaine!" The black kid's voice again; Dave glanced back to see him hitting his knees on the floor beside his friend. "Oh…" The kid moaned, tears sliding down his face. "Somebody call 9-11! He needs help, please! Blaine, come on, listen to me…"

Dave couldn't breathe.

He reached his car, was fumbling with his keys when the pain exploded in the back of his skull. He spun around to see a boy with dark hair, his dark eyes wild as he swung at him again.

"You could have killed him!" The boy screamed, more tears trailing down his face. The Asian boy ran towards them, Dave flinched thinking he was going to hit him too. But he didn't.

"Thad, that's not going to solve anything. We need to get help for Blaine right now, come on!" The Asian boy wasn't crying, but there was a horrible, blank look to his eyes as he grabbed Thad and began leading him away.

Dave was in his car and driving before anyone else could stop him. He drove home, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest and the way his shoe squelched when it sunk down on the gas pedal. He tried to ignore the fact that he was getting Anderson's blood into the carpet of his car. He tried to ignore the image in his mind, the image of Blaine's body lying limp on the common room floor, the puddle of blood around his head spreading across the white marble.

Dave tried to ignore the fact that it wasn't like a locker shove at all. It wasn't heroic, it wasn't badass, and it certainly wasn't funny. But it had done its job. One little shove, some quick tumbling, and Dave's life was going to magically work out again. Wasn't it?

Suddenly, Dave Karofsky didn't feel very smart after all.