Here's what you missed on Glee.

Artie chose Yesterday by the Beatles as his ballad to Melissa and because he looked deeply and intently in her eyes Melissa realized that she was in love with Artie so she chose My Heart Will Go On, the theme song of Titanic but Artie really wasn't getting the message.

Rachel starts feeling threatened by Melissa being in glee club so she threatens her to try to convince her to quit glee club but then Melissa threatens to tell Mr. Schuester that Rachel was in love with him so Rachel backs off.

Melissa also writes Artie a love letter on her computer that she password protected and she pours her heart out in it because she just realized that she's totally in love with Artie but just won't admit it yet.

And that's what you missed on Glee.


"So will you join glee club or not?"

"I'll consider…"

"Ugh…Gigi, you really tick me off sometimes."

For what felt like the fiftieth time, I was trying to persuade Gigi to join glee club, without much success, though I do have to admit I did not have very valid arguments.

"Okay, fine…I have a free period after lunch, Mr. Schuester doesn't have a class then so I'll see him about it."

About time. "Thanks, Gigi." At that point Mrs. Kress came over and told us to be quiet.


After school that day I met up with Gigi before glee club and we went together to the rehearsal.

"Is this a rehearsal or a meeting?" Gigi asked.

I laughed. "That's exactly what I was thinking." As I opened the door to the classroom, I was nearly run over by Mercedes.

"Hi, Melissa," she said happily.

"Hi, Mercedes," I said unenthusiastically.

"Listen, Tina and I were thinking since you're new here all the girls in glee club could have a slumber party tomorrow night at my place, to welcome you here."

"Do girls still do slumber parties?" I asked in astonishment.

"Yeah, they do," Gigi said bitterly.

"Oh, you could come, too, Gigi," Mercedes said. Gigi didn't seem so bitter anymore. "Oh, and come in your pajamas," Mercedes whispered to me as Mr. Schuester came in.

"What, was I going to come naked?" I asked.

Glee club was pretty uneventful until Mr. Schuester introduced Gigi to the rest of the club. In the middle of all the happiness, Artie kept giving me weird glances. I didn't know why, but frankly, I didn't want to know. The attention was enough for me.


Tina, who had P.E. when I had dance, met me in the locker room the next day.

"You're going to Mercedes's party, right?" she asked me.

"Sure, sounds like fun."

"Good." The way she said 'good' and smiled did not seem good at all to me. However, I ignored it, making sure to stuff my gym clothes in my bag before leaving. It was Friday. Every Friday we had to bring home our clothes to wash them.

After I had my clothes in my bag, I left the locker room.


Sue Sylvester was tired of girls leaving behind their gym clothes every Friday. She watched a girl finish her makeup (which took up three of the seven minutes the girls got to change after gym) and then close her locker, heading towards the exit.

"And where do you think you're going?" Sue asked.

"Uh, fourth period," the girl replied.

"Without your gym clothes?" Sue took out a bullhorn and turned it on. "Wrong answer, you little worm."

The girl winced and said, "It's hard to fit my clothes in my bag…"

"You think that's hard?" Sue said into her bullhorn. "Try running a marathon barefoot when it's a hundred and seven degrees outside, that's hard."

The girl grabbed her clothes out of her locker and sprinted out of the locker room. Sue noticed a yellow piece of paper on the ground—the girl had probably dropped it. She picked it up. Printed across the top in fancy letters were the words "From the Desk of Melissa Widman".

She has her own personalized post it notes? Sue thought. She read on.

"DOCUMENT: Dear Artie PASSWORD: billyidol"

What teenage girl listens to Billy Idol? Sue thought. However, she smiled to herself when she caught what was written underneath "From the Desk of Melissa Widman":

An address and phone number of the Tyler-Widman household.


Gigi's mother picked me up and dropped me off at Mercedes's house, saying that she was "glad Gigi found a friend like me" and that she "didn't want my mother to worry about giving me a ride".

As Mrs. Santillan dropped us off at Mercedes's house, Gigi told me, "Oh, by the way…the living room…oh my God."

I barely had time to register what Gigi said when Mercedes opened the door and smiled. "Hi, come on in," she said warmly, standing aside for us. "Just put your stuff right there, everyone's here now except for Rachel."

I put my stuff down where Mercedes had motioned and followed her and Gigi out to the living room, where the rest of the X chromosomes of glee club were assembled. I immediately understood why Gigi said "oh my God" about the room. It was huge, but maybe that had something to do with the fact that the only pieces of furniture in it were a couch, two chairs in a corner, and a flatscreen television hanging on the wall.

I looked at the other girls in their pajamas. What didn't surprise me at all was that Brittany had cheerleaders on her purple silky pajamas. Tina was clutching a panda bear stuffed animal. There was something about that that unnerved me, but I put it out of my mind.

Once Rachel arrived (and who would have known—her pajamas had stars on them), we watched a movie called Zombieland. I found it odd that during a sleepover with a bunch of girls that we'd watch a zombie movie. Brittany said something stupid. Everyone gave her a weird look and I heard myself blurt out, "You know, if I were to die right now in some sort of fiery explosion due to the carelessness of a friend…well, that would just be okay." The girls laughed and Tina gave me a look that clearly said, "Friend? What friend?" Though I despised her, I had to admit she was totally right. What friends did I have, other than Gigi and Kurt? Artie probably hated my guts, Rachel was intimidated by me, I was only at this sleepover to make friends…I was a virtual unknown.

Tina, looking directly at me, suggested we play truth or dare. I shivered to myself. Gigi frowned. "Isn't that kind of a childish game? For, you know, twelve-year-old acne factories?"

"Aren't sleepovers for twelve-year-old acne factories?" Rachel countered.

"In case you haven't noticed," Mercedes pointed out, "we're still all acne factories." Gigi was quiet. "Okay, why don't we just play truth or dare? It's fun anyway."

The game was going along pretty smoothly until Rachel said, "Gigi, truth or dare?" I was almost enjoying myself.

"Truth," she replied. It was about half and half of truths and dares. Probably my favorite dare was when Santana had to go out on the porch and shout "I love you" to everyone that passed for three minutes. By the time the three minutes were up our stomachs hurt from laughing, not because she had to say "I love you", but because of the way she said it, people's reactions, and some of the people walking by.

"What is the meanest thing you've ever thought about someone you didn't like?" Rachel asked.

Gigi thought for a moment. "Well…I said 'I hope you die then get resurrected then have your brain explode then implode again and fall in front of a coming train completely paralyzed so you can't move and have the train run you over and have you suffer a slow and painful death'."

The girls were silent. "That's pretty specific, Gigi," I said at last.

"Well, she did say…" she started, but Rachel interrupted her.

"That wasn't one of us in glee club, was it?"

"No, it was my brother." The girls started busting up laughing, but I was silent. For one thing, I was an only child. Two, it was her brother—family, for Pete's sake. I would never tell that to my family, no matter how annoying they were, although according to Gigi, they didn't come much more annoying than Robert.

"Melissa, truth or dare?" Gigi asked. I was snapped out of my thoughts.

"Huh, what?" I said stupidly. "Oh…uh, truth."

"Who do you have a crush on here at McKinley? Or just in Lima? Just who do you like?"

Well, crap. Immediately Artie came to mind, but there was no way in hell I was saying him.

"Um…"

"Come on, there's got to be someone," Quinn droned. "I mean, you may have only been here a few days, but there's got to be someone. Who is he?"

"Or she," Tina added. "You can never really tell these days, really."

"It's not a she," I said defensively, then mentally facepalmed myself. Crap, why'd I have to admit that I actually did I have a crush on someone? All the girls said "ooh". I wanted to punch someone in the face.

I guess she could tell I was hesitating, because Mercedes said, "Friends share secrets. That's what keeps us close."

"You're…you're my friend?" I asked. I had never really felt ever that I had had friends.

"We all are," Mercedes corrected.

I was so pleased with the sense of belonging that, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Well, I don't really like him, I kind of, sort of…love him, I think…" I wanted to go curl up in a hole and die.

"Does anyone reall love each other in high school anymore?" Gigi asked unsympathetically.

"Love is just a word," Mercedes said, "until someone comes along and gives it meaning."

That was so heartfelt that I accidentally blurted out, "It's Artie."

"Artie?" Tina, Quinn, and Gigi said together. Thanks, Gigi, I thought. There was a look in Tina's eyes that unnerved me for the second time that evening—it looked like a feeling of hate.

"Artie Abrams?" Rachel asked.

"From glee club?" Santana asked.

"Did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks?" Brittany asked.

"Quiet, Brittany," Quinn said.

I was immediately regretting blurting it out.

For the rest of the evening the girls kept asking me questions about why I thought I was so in love with Artie. Tina was quiet. That scared me quite a bit.


The next day after I got home from Mercedes's house, my mother was cleaning the kitchen. "Hi, Missy," she said. "How was your sleepover?"

"Fun," I said, and for once, I wasn't lying. Other than me blurting out how I may or may not be in love with Artie Abrams, I had a really fun time, especially after Santana's mishap on truth or dare and when we had a pillow fight in the midst of the whole Artie scandal. Now I know what I had been missing all those times that the popular girls at Faulkner Charter School had sleepovers and I was never invited. "Are we having company or something? Because you seem to be in a cleaning frenzy…"

"Oh, John invited one of the teachers at your school to have dinner with us, to welcome us to the city or something like that," she said, wiping the table down. John was my stepfather. He was the closest thing I had ever had to a father in my entire life, seeing as Mom and John were married when I was three months old.

"Which teacher?" I asked, expecting it to be one of my teachers or maybe even Mr. Schuester.

"Oh, the Cheerios coach, Ms. Sylvester, or something like that?" Mom said.

I froze. Crap. Not Sue Sylvester, I tried to tell my mother telekinetically. Anyone but Sue Sylvester. "Um, great," I said. My mother made me go upstairs and "change into something that doesn't make you look like you're about to go Trick or Treating" (obviously Mom likes that I'm an individual, but does not seem to like the fact that all of my clothes from Kohl's and a singer who "can't hit a note to save her life"—Mom's words, not mine). I changed into a simple black and white dress—obviously what she meant and brown ballet flats. Screw matching, I thought to myself, though the flats were dark enough to pass as black, in my opinion.

After what seemed like seconds, Ms. Sylvester was in my house and we were eating dinner. Sue kept asking me questions when, finally, the question came up.

"So I'm only seeing you in the locker room before that prep class," she said, obviously referring to dance. I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. "Why don't you take P.E.?"

Crap crap crap. Mom and Dad (I never called my stepdad by his real name, seeing as he was really like a father figure to me) both looked at me.

"Uh…I have a doctor's note," I said.

"Oh, is that what Dr. Morris wanted to see you for before we moved?" Mom asked. "To give you a doctor's note?"

"Uh, yeah," I lied, but Ms. Sylvester interrupted me by saying, "What, you weren't there when she went in, Nancy?"

"Our daughter's fourteen," Mom said. "We think she's old enough to go to a doctor or a dentist or to a barbershop by herself."

"Well, yes, Mrs. Tyler," Ms. Sylvester—my mother cringed; she was either Mrs. Widman or Mrs. Tyler-Widman, no one had ever just called her Mrs. Tyler and Ms. Sylvester would not be the first—said, "but I find it odd that you," she said, rounding on me, "can take dance but not P.E. with your injury. Why is that?"

"First off, it's for hypoglycemia—chronic low blood sugar—not an injury that I can't do P.E. Second, it's none of your business."

"But there must be a reason…"

"Can we please not discuss this at dinner?" I snapped. My mother shot me a look but I could tell that she, too, wished that Ms. Sylvester would just shut up. After dinner, Ms. Sylvester stood. "I'm sorry to ask, but does any of you have a computer I could use? I really need to write Miss Pillsbury an email and it can't really wait."

"Missy has a laptop," my mother said, obviously trying to torture me, or, as she called it, "be a parent".

"May I borrow it just for a few minutes, Missy?" Ms. Sylvester asked. I cringed. No one, other than Mom and Dad, ever called me Missy.

"Sure," I said through my teeth, starting to head up the stairs to grab my laptop. Ms. Sylvester hollered after me that she'd be waiting in the living room.

When I met up with her in the living room, I quickly punched in my password and gave her my computer. I hoped she didn't mosey on over to the folder called "Missy's Private Thoughts". That was where I had my electronic diary, videos of me performing, lyrics to songs I wrote myself, and my letter to Artie, though every document was password protected, and it would be a miracle if she could guess the password.

She started to use my computer. Because I couldn't see what she was doing, I started biting my nails. At one point, she furrowed her brow and muttered, "What a load of crap."

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Nothing, sweetie, nothing." I did not like the way she said nothing—or sweetie, too, for that matter. Finally, she logged off, handing me my laptop back, and left.


An hour later I was in my room when I got a text message—my mother had finally caved and bought me a cell phone. I was hoping it'd be Gigi or Mercedes or maybe some other girl at the sleepover, but it was Kurt. His message was short and to the point: "Check out Bring Down New Directions on Tumblr."

I frowned. New Directions was the glee club. This couldn't be good. I got out my laptop, logged in, and quickly typed in the address. And waited. Finally, it loaded, and I gasped. The info about the creator of the blog said, "We're young. We're fine. Let's do some damage." The first post was titled, "Nerd Love", so I read it…and dropped my laptop in shock, because this is what the post said:

"New Directions has a new member. That's right, spunky Melissa Widman from California has moved to Lima and she's a member of the glee club, and it seems she seems to be in love with that half a person Artie Abrams, as she wrote him this love letter:

Artie,

I'm not sure how to explain this, and I know odds are you'll never see this anyway, but still…I think I love you."

That was all I read before my laptop fell to the ground. Because that was the letter. My letter. The one I wrote to Artie and password protected "billyidol". Obviously, this was someone who had used my laptop. It had to be Sue Sylvester.

My phone rang. I picked it up, but, before I could say anything, the person on the other end started to speak.

"Ah, hell to the naw," Mercedes said.

"Mercedes?" I asked.

"Melissa, did you really write that?"

"Yes!" I groaned.

"How did Sylvester get it?"

"I don't know, she had dinner at my house today and she asked to use my laptop, and I did write that and gave it a password, but…" I froze. "Hold on a sec." I searched my binder and my bag. My note with my password on it was nowhere to be found. "She must have found the password to the document."

"Ah, hell to the naw," Mercedes repeated.

"Did Artie see it?" I asked breathlessly.

"Not that I know of," Mercedes said. I let out a sigh of relief. "But do you know how many members of glee club have called me and told me about it? And a lot of people who aren't in glee club have seen it, too. Odds are if he hasn't seen it already, he will."

Crap crap crap.

"I'm getting another call," I said weakly in a voice that wasn't my own. "I'll talk to you later, kay?"

"Peace."

I clicked the talk button and was put on the other line. "Hello?" I said in that same weak voice. Just as I started talking, the phone started beeping, telling me I had another call.

"Your boyfriend's a nerd!" said an obviously female voice that I recognized at once to belonging to Santana.

She hung up, so I took another call. "Hello?"

"You've got to be pretty fucked in the head to be crushing on a kid in a wheelchair." That was obviously Puck.

"All you glee club nerds can die." I had no idea who that was, but I didn't like it all the same. I flung the phone down and listened to it ring endlessly. By the time the sun went down thirty minutes later, I had seventeen missed calls. All of them had left a message on my voicemail.

If I thought I was in tears before, I was bawling by the time I got to the fifteenth voicemail. I was only half listening when I heard, "Hey, Melissa, it's Artie." Oh, great. Just what I needed. "Um, listen, I know you're probably kind of dealing with a lot right now, but I just wanted to say I heard some things." I was suddenly interested, as obviously the "things" he had heard had nothing to do with him. "I heard something about…about Kurt." Now I was really interested. "Um, see, I had heard that he was, well…he's confused. He's not really so sure that he's gay anymore because…" He paused. If he were there I'd probably punch him if he didn't hurry up and spit it out. "Because I heard he sort of has a crush on…on a girl. His first crush on a girl, actually. And it's…it's on you. Well, uh…see you in geometry." And with that he hung up.

I was shocked and didn't listen to the other two people picking on me. Artie heard that Kurt Hummel—gay Kurt Hummel, I might add—had a crush on me. Me. Melissa Amanda Widman. What was so special about me that I would turn Kurt not gay? Maybe someone like Quinn, who was pretty and used to be popular despite being pregnant—well, even if she was pregnant, she was still a hell of a lot more popular than me. Maybe she could be the type of person to turn Kurt straight. But me?


Dun dun duuuuuuun! OH, THE DRAMA! Poor Melissa… :( Aw well. Anyway, sorry for this crapfest of a chapter, though I think it was better than last chapter anyway. I want to review. NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW. Cause that's what she said. ;)

Oh, to my anonymous little 'friend', could you please keep reviews constructive from now on? I never said I had the best writing in the world, because honestly I don't. I don't really think anyone deserves that title because there so many incredible writers out there. But please try to keep criticism constructive, thank you.