As Joel walked into school the next day, he was watching out for possible slushies to the face as well as the hockey jerks who threw them.

"Hey, weirdo," a voice sneered from behind him. Expecting to see Kenny and/or one of his cronies, Joel came face to face with the hockey player who threw the slushie at him.

"What do you want? Do you want to throw another slushie at me? Just go ahead and do it," Joel sighed.

"It isn't fun if you say we can," the guy said, looking a little disappointed.

"By the way, what is with those mullets? Are you guys a bunch of Billy Ray Cyrus wannabes?" Joel asked.

"They're cool, that's why," the guy said, putting a hand to his mullet.

"No, they're not. Mullets are totally nineties and we're living in the twenty-first century here, so why don't you and your puckhead friends go get bowl cuts like Justin Bieber?" Joel mocked. Joel let out a snicker when the guy slammed him against a locker.

"Right now, you deserve a beating, you smart-mouthed little faggot," the guy snarled. Joel froze at the insult and scoffed.

"I'm sorry, what did you just call me?" Joel asked.

"A little faggot," the guy said, sticking his face in Joel's.

"I dare you to call me a faggot one more time. You'll see what happens if you do," he whispered.

"You're a filthy little fag…," the guy started to say, but Joel drove his knee into the guy's crotch, making him crumple and release Joel.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Joel said, stepping over the guy and walking away.


At Glee club practice that afternoon, Santana made the announcement that her song was going to crush Joel's and Artie's. Flanked by Brittany, Santana started to sing:

"Hang up the chick habit
Hang it up, daddy,
Or you'll be alone in a quick
Hang up the chick habit
Hang it up, daddy,
Or you'll never get another fixI'm telling you it's not a trick
Pay attention, don't be thick
Or you're liable to get licked
Y
ou're gonna see the reason why
When they're spitting in your eye
They'll be spitting in your eyeHang up the chick habit
Hang it up, daddy,
A girl's not a tonic or a pill
Hang up the chick habit
Hang it up, daddy,
You're just jonesing for a spillOh, how your bubble's gonna burst
When you meet another nurse
She'll be driving in a hearse
You're gonna need a heap of glue
When they all catch up with you
And they cut you up in two
Now your ears are ringing
The birds have stopped their singing
Everything is turning greyNo candy in your till
No cutie left to thrill
You're alone on a TuesdayHang up the chick habit
Hang it up, daddy,
Or you'll be alone in a quick
Hang up the chick habit
Hang it up, daddy,
Or you'll never get another fixI'm telling you it's not a trick
Pay attention, don't be thick
Or you're liable to get lickedYou're gonna see the reason why
When they're spitting in your eye
They'll be spitting in your eye."

Everyone cheered as Santana and Brittany took a bow.

"Okay, I'll say it," Joel said, standing up. "That was amazing. Santana, you killed that song."

"Thanks," she said with a small smile.

"All in favor of Santana getting a solo at Regionals?" Joel raised his hand, followed by everyone else. "The hands have it. Lady Santana Lopez, you've won yourself a solo," Joel said in a faux-British accent, before bending down on one knee and raising an imaginary crown to Santana. She laughed and embraced Joel.


"Joel?" Artie asked after Glee club as Joel picked up his bookbag.

"Yeah, Artie?" Joel looked down and smiled.

"Can you follow me? I want you to meet someone," he said, rolling in front of Joel and leading him down the hallway.

"All right," Joel agreed. He followed Artie to a classroom and walked inside. Artie rolled back to the door behind him into the hallway and was about to lock it. "Artie, what the hell are you doing?" he asked, looking around.

"You need therapy, Joel. And this is our school therapist, Miss Watson," Artie said, nodding to a tall, brunette woman in a skirt.

"Hi, you must be Joel. Artie's told me about you," the woman said, extending a hand.

"Hi, yeah, I'm Joel." Joel shook the woman's hand before turning to Artie and grabbing the smaller boy's wrists. "Artie, I don't need therapy. Besides, what gives you the right to tell me that I need therapy?"

"I'm worried about you. Everyone's worried after what happened yesterday. I get it; you were bullied, just like the rest of us. But pulling a gun on your tormentors isn't going to get you anywhere, except maybe prison," Artie explained.

"Artie, I should tell you this. You should not get on my bad side, which, right now, you are dangerously close to. I'm telling you because if you do, you will sorely regret it. I promise," Joel whispered the last part in Artie's ear.

"Your threats aren't working, Joel. Talk to Miss Watson and tell me how you feel afterwards," Artie said, pulling the door shut.

"Well, fuck me," Joel muttered before turning to face the woman.

"Tell me what was going through your mind when you pulled the gun out," Miss Watson said, sitting on a desk. Joel sighed heavily and let loose.

"I wasn't thinking, okay? Kenny Wilson and his friends made life at Knightley hell, and them just showing up in my life now was the last straw. So many times I wanted to fight back, but I couldn't because there were always three of them and one of me. Using a weapon that could end them seemed to be the best shot at making it all end," Joel said.

"You couldn't think of any other way to talk to these boys?" Miss Watson asked.

"You don't know these boys, ma'am. The only way to get anything across to them is through violence, whether it be physical or verbal, and it regularly works through physical because one time I called out Rob, one of Kenny's buddies, on tripping me in the cafeteria. They simply forced me headfirst into the garbage can. And no one helped me out, no one, not even the lunch lady. The can fell to the side and I fell out."

"Can we talk about your family in our next session? I have to go and deal with my ex-husband," Miss Watson said. "How's about tomorrow morning at nine in this classroom?" Joel nodded and left the classroom, mentally reminding himself to apologize to Artie for acting so rashly.