I'm really sorry for this chapter. I've been delaying putting it up because no matter how hard I try, I cannot get it right! Ack! It's really bad, and again I'm sorry, but I had to write it- I couldn't take it out. 'Enjoy'? Songs used are "Your Song" By Elton John, which I always thought was a wonderful love song and I loved it as a kid (well, I pretty much am a kid, but you get what I mean) and Jordan sings "Girl Anachronism" by The Dresdan Dolls. That whole album is very eerie and some of the songs are haunting and mysterious, but I love them. Just don't listen to it if you're prone to nightmares. What is it with me and these awful, terribly long author's notes? I guess I'm procrastinating you reading the below chapter. Well, too bad for me because I'm going to stop blabbing on and on. Adios for now :)
-Sami
KURT POV- Tuesday, September 12th, 2009- After school
"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'm going to be auditioning for the role of Glee Club member."*
I know what I said. I do. But when I went home and to bed that night, I found I could not sleep. I tossed and turned remembering memories with my mother. When I was little, I always wanted to be a singer- I loved Patti Lupone and Whitney Houston the best. My dad would protest, saying it was 'gay' (oh the irony), but my mother would glare at him and say lowly, "We talked about this, Burt." And my dad wouldn't say anything else about it for a few days.
If you hadn't guessed, my mother (Elizabeth was her name. It was also what I changed my middle name to when she died) was the polar opposite when it came to the singing. Since we couldn't afford singing lessons or anything of the sort, my mother and I used to sing together when our favorite songs came on to the radio, or when I was older, to a big, bulky iPod. Her voice was beautiful. I have an old home video that was filmed at my cousins' house of me and her singing together. They had a grand piano at their house (of which three-year-old me found incredible) so we sang and she played "Your Song." My mother was an amazing pianist as well. It's the only video I have of her singing, though, or of us singing together. I must have watched it a thousand times, and a hundred more last night. And I remembered faintly what my mother had said to me after that performance.
"KK, I want you to promise me something. Can you look at me?" I looked into my mother's wonderful glauz eyes that matched my own. "I want you to promise never to stop doing what you love, no matter what happens and what people say. And KK, I can tell you love singing. Even if you don't, that's okay. I mean with anything you love. Because if you love it, it's worth it. Okay? Promise me?"
"Promise." We linked our pinkies together and when my mother let go, smiling, she called to my cousins and aunts and uncles that were now watching television in the next room,
"Who wants ice cream?" All of my cousins enthusiastically leaped up and my aunts and uncles followed, each respective pair or trio of siblings bickering between themselves.
So I had asked- okay, pleaded- with Jordan this morning to try out for Glee with me that afternoon. She had blatantly refused.
"I ain't-" She lets out a frustrated groan. Today she had been trying to correct herself with her grammar, and it wasn't working so well.
"I'm not going to work with that scumbag known as Blaine Anderson." She scowled as though reviving a particularly painful memory- which she probably was.
But I decided I must honor my mother. I used to love to sing... so here I stand, in front of the club, which includes pretty much all of Jordan and I's respective
tormentors. Except, there are two I have never seen bully anyone- a boy in a wheelchair with brown hair and glasses(I think his name is Art?) and a short african american girl wearing a shirt that makes me cringe and has a nose piercing. I mean, Rachel Berry never really bullied anyone, but from the way I've heard her talk to other people and from the gossip, her personality is atrocious. So I stare at the african american girl while I speak as to be less nervous.
"I- I- um," What's wrong with me? I'm never nervous. But then, I haven't performed for anyone on an actual stage since Mom. Okay, get your shit together. You are Kurt Hummel. You can do it.
"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'll be singing Your Song by Elton John."
JORDAN POV
I sigh heavily as I pack up my books. I'd gone to the boy's locker rooms to box a bit (I'm no good, but sometimes when I'm mad I figure what the hell) and now I'm going home to a most likely wasted Mikey. After I had driven home yesterday, I had come home to find Mikey had broken his promise yet again. That time, I didn't even have the energy to do anything about it. Thank god Conner's on a business trip.
I can't believe Kurt is trying out for Glee Club. I love to sing too, but...
Suddenly I hear a high and angelic voice floating down the hall.
It's a little bit funny...
I drift down the hall, following the sound of the voice.
KURT POV
It's a little bit funny
This feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
That's not true now, not for me at least. But my mother wore her heart on her sleeve. I could always tell when something was wrong.
I don't have much money but
Boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
Now, thinking about it, this song could have meant much more to my mother than I knew.
If I was a sculptor
But then again, no,
Or a man
Who makes potions in a travelling show I
Know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and
This one's for you
I can't believe how amazing it feels to really sing. Despite the feeling of cold eyes all focused on me, I smile.
And you can tell everybody
This is your song
It may be quite simple but
Now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world
My smile fades because life had been wonderful while my mother was in the world.
All of a sudden, the door bursts open and a familiar voice calls,
"You got room for one more? I mean, the infamous Blaine Anderson invited me here, and that's gotta count for somethin', right?" The music abruptly stops and we all turn to see a scowling Jordan sauntering down the aisle cockily. She stops at Blaine, who's on the end of his row. "Hey, buddy." She says sarcastically, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. The boy squawks in protest. "Glad to see me?" She doesn't wait for an answer, and glances on the piano on the stage. "Can I use that?" Mr. Schuester nods dumbly so Jordan jumps up on the stage ("Take a seat, Kurtie-poo." Of which I do, right behind Blaine.) and when the piano player moves aside begins to play an eerie, slow melody that becomes slamming and fast. But it gets even more creepy when she starts to sing.
You can tell by the scars in my arms
And the cracks in my hips
And the dents in my car
And the blisters on my lips...
Jordan's hands abruptly still and she stands on the stage with her fingers hovering over the keys, her heavy breaths echoing throughout the silent auditorium. For the first time I really take notice of her features: she looks hispanic, with olive coloured skin, and long, wavy brown hair that goes almost all the way down her back. She has a small, curved nose and pink full lips. Her eyes, which are usually brown, shine with gold in the spotlight, and her body heaves with large breaths she takes from the adrenaline of the performance. She turns to us.
"Was that any good?" We all gape at her. A shell shocked Schue nods again, then shakes his head to snap him out of his apparent talent-induced trance. Yeah, Jordan can be a bit much.
"Yeah, that was great! Uh, welcome to Glee Club, you two! We're going to the choir room now; come on, guys." Jordan lags behind, so I walk on my own until the girl I had stared at during my performance treks up beside me and smiles.
"I'm Mercedes." She says. "And you're..." After a moment's hesitation I reply,
"Kurt." And smile back.
"You were really good." I blush, and curse my pale features because I probably look like a tomato.
"Thanks. I haven't sung in a while and-"
"We could tell!" Someone screeches behind us. We both turn to see Rachel Berry walking up to us. Mercedes groans.
"Nobody asked for your opinion, Berry, back the hell off." Rachel scowls but continues as though nothing had been said in a snooty voice,
"You're good, I guess, but you need vocal training. Desperately." Mercedes rolls her eyes and pushes by the girl, and I follow.
"Ugh. Sorry about her. She thinks she's better than everyone, but she's not, really."
"Yeah, I've heard she's got an awful personality. And I've heard her squawking in the halls; she's kind of mean, if you ask me, and I'm best friends with Jordan. She's very sarcastic. Then again, so am I." Why am I still talking? Since when do I talk about anything? I mean, Jordan and I talk, but we don't talk, if you get my drift. Speak of the devil:
"Kurt!" I turn again to see Jordan. I grin at her.
"Hey! You showed! I can't believe-"
"Who's this?" She's glaring at Mercedes, and crossing her arms. My smile falters.
"This is Mercedes. She's cool." Jordan raises her eyebrows doubtfully.
"Mmhm, and does she know you're-" I cut her off.
"Look Jordan, I don't know what crawled up your ass, but if you're going to be all PMSy than go find someone else to talk to."
"Please Kurtie, you're one to talk." I'm about to retaliate when Mercedes interrupts,
"Does she mean do I know you're gay? Everyone knows. Aren't you, too?" She says, addressing Jordan, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I don't really care. Why should I?"
"You don't give a shit about Kurt being from rainbow unicorn land? What planet are you from?" Jordan asks sarcastically, and I breath a sigh of relief. Mercedes stares at her blankly.
"She's joking."
"Oh."
"I like you." Jordan decides, and by this time, we are at the choir room. I glance at her nervously, and she gives me a reassuring smile. It's going to be fine. Glee Club's going to be fine. Now I just have to face Blaine.