Artie

"You better shape up, cause I need a man, and my heart is set on you."

Rachel placed her hands on Artie's wheelchair handles and Will knew it was coming. Sure enough, she shoved and Artie went rolling.

He reached out, slamming his hands down on Artie's armrests as the teenager's head bumped into his chest.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Artie muttered as he eyed the edge of the stage behind Will.

"No problem."

Will spun him around and sent him rolling back in line.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Will adjusted his bag higher on his shoulder as he kicked his car door shut. The first day of school was always brutal: freshmen were lost, seniors were late, and excuses were given for incomplete summer homework. Will sighed and regretted not stopping at Starbucks for an extra shot of caffeine.

That was when he saw him: a small kid being helped out of a car into a wheelchair. He could only assume the man helping him was his father. They wore matching glasses and suspenders.

As much as Will loved new students, the sight of this boy brought a smile and then a frown to his face. No doubt one the teachers would soon find him stuffed into a porta-potty courtesy of one of the jocks. High school was many things, but fair was not one of them.

Will's first class was Spanish I and he read off the names on his student roster.

"Aaron?"

"Here."

"Abrams?" Silence. "Abrams?"

The freshmen looked around at each other and Will left the box next to Artie's name unchecked.

"Berry?"

A hand shot up from a brunette in the front row. "Right here, Mr. Schuester!"

Oh boy.

That class, he learned that five students belonged in Spanish II, four students belonged in French but stumbled into the wrong classroom, and only one did the summer homework. Three guesses as to who that was.

Will packed up his worksheets as Rachel placed an apple on his desk saying, "It's my first day of school tradition."

Before Will could answer, she was out the door. He wandered over to the window, rubbing away the migraine that was beginning to pound in his temples. Beneath the tree on the far sidewalk sat the kid in the wheelchair, looking lost and upset.

Will jogged out the door, nearly running into Emma as he turned the corner. He grasped her shoulders to keep her upright as he tossed a quick "Sorry, Em" over his shoulder.

"Where's the fire?" She yelled but he was already out the door.

It was surprisingly cool for a September day. Even in Ohio. As Will got closer to the boy in the wheelchair, he noticed two things: the boy's glasses were gone and his backpack was hanging from a branch in the tree above his head.

"Hi, there."

The boy squinted in his direction. "Who's that?"

Will's heart broke when the boy visibly flinched away from him. "I'm Mr. Schuester, I teach Spanish. What's your name?"

"Artie Abrams."

Abrams. "You weren't supposed to be in my Spanish I class by any chance, were you?"

"I missed it?" Artie looked alarmed. "My first day is off to a terrific start."

"So, who was it?" Will asked as he reached up and snatched Artie's backpack from the tree and handed it to him.

"Who was what?" Artie picked at the arm of his wheelchair.

"Come on, Artie. Your backpack didn't end up in the tree all by itself."

Artie slumped in his chair and the misfortune of the morning seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

"I was looking for the handicap ramp. I couldn't find it. Then they took my glasses and I couldn't find much else."

Will hadn't even realized how tightly he was gripping Artie's backpack until he looked down and saw that his knuckles were white. "Who took them?"

Artie shrugged. "Someone in a letterman jacket."

Will let out the breath he had been holding. "Come on. Let's go find that ramp." He took the handles of Artie's wheelchair and began to push him down the sidewalk.

"So, Artie, how are you liking McKinley so far?"

The teenager laughed at the joke and went to push his glasses further up his nose only to realize they were no longer there. Old habits…

"It could be worse."

Will smiled. At least the kid was optimistic. Will had never realized that McKinley only had one handicap ramp into the school, nor did he realize just how far away it was.

"What class are you looking forward to the most?"

"Band. I know it's not really a class, but I like the guitar."

"Really? So do I." Will finally came upon the ramp and guided Artie's wheelchair up its cement incline. "It might not be as exciting as Band, but trust me, Spanish isn't all that bad either."

Artie laughed. "I'll try and make it next time."

"Which class are you supposed to be in now?" Will pulled up to a stop as they entered the hallway.

"I'm not entirely sure. I can't read my schedule." Artie fumbled with the zipper on his backpack and felt around for the piece of paper.

"Here, allow me." Will took the backpack from him and pulled the schedule out. "It looks like English with Mrs. Collins. That's down here." Will gripped the handles again and pushed Artie to Room 104. "Does your Dad have a spare pair of glasses he can bring you?"

"He does, but… I don't really want him to know. He doesn't handle stuff like this very well. It's better to just say I lost them."

"Ah. I see." Will was happy that Artie couldn't see the look of pity that briefly graced his features. "Well, I'll write you a note for your next class. I'll explain that you've misplaced your glasses and that you can't see –

"Anything?"

Will laughed. "I was going to say 'much' but we can go with 'anything."

Artie was quiet for a moment. "Thanks, Mr. Schuester. I appreciate it."

Artie pushed on the wheels and began to move toward the classroom door, but Will stopped him.

"Hey, do you have a spare half hour after school?" Artie nodded. "If you want, we can go over what you missed in Spanish, so you're not behind on your first day."

"That'd be great, Mr. Schue."

Not even a full school day down and Artie had already adopted Will's nickname. Will liked him already.

When the bell rang signaling the end of second period, Artie rolled out of Mrs. Collins' English class to find Will waiting for him.

"Where to next?"

Artie wordlessly handed over the schedule as Will guided him to third period.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The following day, Will made sure to time his arrival with Artie's. He parked close to the handicap ramp and watched as the jocks approached the boy in the wheelchair.

Will sprang out of his car and kept a distance of at least twenty feet behind Artie as he wheeled up the ramp. It was close enough to keep the jocks at bay and far enough away that Artie didn't think he was hovering.

He did this every day of Artie's freshman year. Artie just thought Will liked the parking spot.