DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GLEE.
Monday, I wear my gym clothes to school. Sitting in Glee, everyone focuses on my style. Kurt complains that my clothes are even worse than normal. Somehow, though, an oversized sweatshirt and my fat jeans are only slightly worse than my normal clothes. I hate most of the suggestions they make. Do I seriously look like a cowgirl? We live in the suburbs of Ohio, for god sake. And, a Happy Meal, no onions? I wonder about Brittany some times.
Before I can get too worried about my problem, Rachel comes in and makes a typically dramatic announcement. Even for Rachel, this is huge. Vocal Adrenaline is doing Gaga. We are doomed. Then, Mr. Shue has a genius idea. Our assignment for the week: Gaga!
Tuesday, Kurt and I wore our Gaga costumes to school. Mercedes put me a short dress made of all champagne bubbles. She helped me get all my long dark hair into a short, platinum wig, held in little pigtails with clear bobble hair ties as well. I was a little nervous, going through the halls. I worried I might pop one of the clear balls. Still, it felt good. I felt … effervescent, like that special natural spring water my mother's college roommate buys when we go to visit her in Manhattan.
Then, Kurt and I encounter Karofsky in the hall. He pushes Kurt into the lockers. My brave friend tries to stand up to the gorilla. But, it's like a person against a tank. Kurt defends himself, but the threats of being beat up are always there. I wonder about Figgin's zero tolerance policy. How is that Karofsky and his ilk get away with making our lives a living hell, but I can't enjoy my peaceful existence in skull gloves?
At practice, Quinn and I have to sit on stools because of the intensity of our costumes. I cannot believe the false eyelashes the pregnant blond is wearing. I wonder if every time she bats her eyes, a mini hurricane starts off the coast of Florida, because her lashes are just that big.
It's a weird day, and not just because of the costumes. Rachel is late. Rachel Berry is never late. Its part of her whole being a star in training thing. Then, Mercedes announces that Rachel's mom is Ms. Corkrin. Everyone seems shocked, but I'm not so sure. I saw her once, when my dad went over to the Asian Market in Carmel. It's a trip we take together most Saturdays. He examines taro root while I stare the dead, frozen fish in the eyes. It's enough to make anyone want to turn vegetarian. But, dead puffer fish are not the point. The point is that Ms. Corkrin sort of looks like Rachel … or I guess, Rachel looks like Miss Corkrin. They have the same dark hair, the same long noses, the same high cheekbones, and the same full lips. So, maybe I'm not as surprised as everyone else.
Then, Rachel arrives. Her costume is a train wreck. She's wearing a suit made of stuff animals. Seriously. It looks like the Beanie Baby collection she was saving to fund her college education got turned into a badly made dress. Mr. Shue is gentle, but you can tell that even he is creeped out a little by the lamb … or rat, I can't really tell which, that she's using as a barrette. Thankfully, he lets us focus on performing.