The Crawford Country Day School's choir room was unlocked by the school janitor at seven o'clock. By eight, at least ten girls had filled the room. No, it wasn't a lot, but it had been better than last year, Warbler Blaine observed, when two girls had come only at nine. He, as the lead singer, led the group of boys into the common room, greeting each and every girl that happened to be there. Naturally, none could manage to keep from cracking a smile at the blonde seated in the front row; she was Nick's little sister, after all. Jane waved nervously at the boys, catching her brother's eye. In return, Nick raised one eyebrow and sat beside Jeff, who was chatting it up with two cheerleaders.
The room had pale, yellow walls; a worn piano stood in the middle of the room, and to the left was an array of green chairs. The Warblers sat there, as it was really the only place to sit (besides sitting close to the ten hopefuls). There were no posters to decorate the room, only white tiles on the floor. Blaine could only hope that at least one of the girls would have the decency to clean and refurbish the room.
Taking his place in the front of the year (and not daring to sit down), Blaine cleared his throat loudly. He managed to gain four girls' attention, and they began hitting their friends to alert them to a change of action. ''We, the Dalton Academy Warblers,'' he began uncertainly, ignoring the crack of his voice, ''would like to thank all of you young women for joining us in the audition,'' the curly-haired Warbler stopped to find the right word, ''process. Um, I suppose we'll just start with whoever wants to go first! Who wants to go first?'' The all-boys choir glanced around the entirety of the room, looking for at least one brave soul that would put their voice on the line first.
A hand shot up, revealing a brunette with long, curly hair pulled back into loose pigtails. She had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose, pink cheeks, and a height that made Blaine feel like a giant; she was plump but not without being adorable. This girl had to be a Freshman.
Because, yes, Blaine noticed these sorts of things about girls (he was gay - he had nothing to fear. The brunette shot up, brown eyes filled with a certain fear. ''Can I go first?'' she asked, dusting off imaginary residue from her skirt. The boys nodded in agreement, each acknowledging a sort of bravery in the short girl.
As per tradition, she pulled out a CD from a pink case. ''Do we have a, you know-''
And now Blaine felt stupid. Wes jumped to his feet and pulled out a boom box, ducking his head in embarrassment. ''Please continue, miss-''
''Bridgette!'' she squeaked in a high-pitched voice. ''Okay, this is my audition, and I hope you all enjoy it!'' The song started softly, and Blaine furrowed an eyebrow, looking towards Kurt (the one who knew pretty much any song that any girl would like); the countertenor shrugged his shoulders gently, returning his attention to the singer.
Notice me; take my hand . . .
Why are we strangers when . . .
Our love is strong . . .
Why carry on without me?
Her voice was high and untrained, but there was something sweet and angelic about it that made Blaine's heart feel the slightest tug. He couldn't deny that her voice might not be the greatest, but it was heartfelt, and that was what made a show choir. Right?
Every time I try . . .
To fly, I fall . . .
Without my wings . . .
I feel so small . . .
I guess I need you, baby . . .
And every time I see . . .
You in my dreams . . .
I see your face . . .
It's haunting me . . .
I guess I need you, baby . . .
I make believe that you are here . . .
It's the only way I see clear . . .
What have I done . . .
You seem to move on easy . . .
And every time I try . . .
To fly, I fall . . .
Without my wings . . .
I feel so small . . .
I guess I need you, baby . . .
And every time I see . . .
You in my dreams . . .
I see your face . . .
It's haunting me . . .
I guess I need you, baby . . .
I may have made it rain . . .
Please forgive me . . .
My weakness caused you pain . . .
And this song is my sorry . . .
~ Ohhh . . . ~
Blaine, along with the rest of the Warblers, smiled lightly when she looked to them for any sort of impressed (or disgusted), expressions while she held the note. Bridgette took a deep breath (something that she would have to work on, naturally), before continuing.
At night I pray . . .
That soon your face . . .
Will fade away . . .
And every time I try . . .
To fly, I fall . . .
Without my wings . . .
I feel so small . . .
I guess I need you, baby . . .
And every time I see . . .
You in my dreams . . .
I see your face . . .
It's haunting me . . .
I guess I need you, baby . . .
Bridgette ended the song, her cheeks flaming red. She looked to Wes, then Blaine, then the rest of the Warblers before practically running to her seat. No one said anything for a few moments before Kurt (the little saint that he was), started clapping loudly. ''You are like the soprano Tina Cohen Chang, you little angel!'' he said enthusiastically, standing up. ''She's a Cardinal, right? Right?''
Blaine wasn't quite sure who Tina was (he figured that she was from McKinley), but it seemed like a compliment enough for the girl to burst into a small giggle.
A beat of silence passed before Wes cracked into a soft smile. ''Well, I don't think we can say no, can we? I would recommend, of course, on learning to hold out your notes a bit stronger. But that's always something that can be improved.''
The brunette giggled softly, clutching onto Jane's arm excitedly. ''You have to go next!'' she whispered, nudging the blonde's arm. Jane shook her head, eyes wide.
''Next?'' Thad asked, glancing around the room. A head of chocolate hair with blonde highlights rose from the back, and a blue-eyed girl stared expectantly at the boys. She was tanned and physically fit, it seemed; average height with a pretty face - a nice nose, clear skin, and sculpted eyebrows.
''I'm Hayley, and this is my CD,'' she explained, picking out her CD from a clear case labeled 'Hayley'.
I'm happy, so happy it seems . . .
In my mind . . .
I can fake it . . .
I can fake everything . . .
Drifting, drowning, slipping away from myself . . .
Everyday I misplace me . . .
The song was sad, horribly so, and Blaine couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of pang at his heart. This girl seemed so put-together, so stoic and straight-faced. First glances would let anyone know that she was the type of person to keep their head held high at all times, no matter what they said or did to her. But she was a terrific singer with a strong voice; that part was undeniable. Someone had to have given her some form of formal training.
Where do I fit in?
What's my role in this world?
Where can I breathe . . .
When everything I say seems to be the wrong thing?
I am broken, choking on the air . . .
I'm lost; rip me open . . .
See what might be there . . .
'Cause I don't know who I am . . .
Who I am . . .
Am I happy?
Is that what you see?
I can't find what's inside of me . . .
Where do I fit in?
What's my role in this world?
Where can I breathe . . .
When everything I say seems to be the wrong thing?
I am broken, choking on the air . . .
I'm lost; rip me open . . .
See what might be there . . .
'Cause I don't know who I am . . .
Drag me down . . .
Take me out . . .
Don't let me show you my soul on a dare . . .
~ Ohhh . . . ~
But still I just can't hide from myself anymore . . .
Like I'm not really here . . .
So now I gotta be . . .
What's inside of me . . .
Deeper than the stars pull my heart . . .
What is good enough?
Do I measure up?
I can hear me now . . .
There was something so genuine about the way she was singing, and Blaine looked to his friends for any sort of opinion written on their faces. Wes, as usual, was unreadable. David had one eyebrow quirked but nothing else. But there was no denying the fact that this song seemed to fit the Warblers. They were just a group of teenagers that had no true idea of what they were really doing.
I am broken, choking on the air . . .
I'm lost; rip me open . . .
See what might be there . . .
'Cause I don't know who I am . . .
I don't know who I am . . .
Who I am . . .
I am broken . . .
I am broken . . .
Take me out . . .
Hayley's voice faded out as she took her seat, not daring to look at the rest of the boys. Without prompt, Thad jumped from his chair and began clapping (not as quickly as Kurt had, but still). ''I think we now have two Cardinals! Guys, we may have a bit of competition for Regionals,'' he noted gently, nodding in an approving motion. ''That is, of course, if you guys can get twelve members. Which I kind of doubt will happen.''
For a small second, Hayley allowed the sweetest of smiles to cross her face; it was a crack in a well-built armor, Blaine observed thoughtfully.
He was starting to feel good about this. He turned to Kurt, who, seeming too excited for his own good, said, ''Next!'' And, to mimic Kurt, a blonde with blue eyes popped up from her seat, gesturing to her sparkly pink CD case with glittery letters on it. ''Um, can I borrow Bridgette for the first part of this song?'' she asked, gaining a nod from the Asian Warbler; it was always good to intrigue Wes. ''I'm Ava Jessica Wright, by the way.''
Bridgette smiled and strode over to the blonde; she seemed to have already learnt her part in the song and sat gracefully onto one of the green chairs in the room. Ava handed her CD to Trent, who eagerly placed it into the boom box. The rest of the Warblers turned their bodies so that they could see the performance.
''Elphie,'' Ava started, her voice high and sweet, ''now that we're friends, I've decided to make you my new project!''
Feigning annoyance, Bridgette stated softly, ''You really don't have to do this . . .''
''I know; that's what makes me so nice.''
There was a few keys played by the piano on the CD, and Blaine tried to hide a smile as he saw Kurt's body straighten in anxiousness. That boy loved two things - scarves and Wicked.
Whenever I see someone . . .
Less fortunate than I . . .
And let's face it - who isn't . . .
Less fortunate than I?
My tender heart tends to start to bleed . . .
And when someone needs a makeover . . .
I simply have to take over . . .
I know - I know exactly what they need . . .
Ava was very exaggerated in her performance, as expected by someone trying to do justice to Kristin Chenoweth's spectacular performance. She knew when to start sounding like she was in too much control of the situation, and she also knew how to pretend to catch herself. She was amusing, simply stated.
And even in your case . . .
Though it's the toughest case I've yet to face . . .
Don't worry; I'm determined to succeed . . .
Follow my lead, and yes, indeed . . .
You . . . Will . . . Be . . .
Kurt seemed more excited than he had in along time, and these were only the auditions. Laughing into his hand (but not at Ava - she was great), Blaine turned his attention back to the song.
Popular!
You're gonna be popular!
I'll teach you the proper ploys . . .
When you talk to boys . . .
Little ways to flirt and flounce . . .
Woo!
I'll show you what shoes to wear . . .
How to fix your hair . . .
Everything that really counts to be . . .
Popular!
I'll help you be popular!
You'll hang with the right cohorts . . .
You'll be good at sports . . .
Know the slang you've got to know . . .
So let's start . . .
'Cause you've got an awfully long way to go . . .
Don't be offended by my frank analysis . . .
Think of it as personality dialysis . . .
Now that I've chosen to become a . . .
Pal, a sister, and advisor . . .
There's nobody wiser . . .
Not when it comes to . . .
Popular!
I know about popular . . .
And with an assist from me . . .
To be who you'll be . . .
Instead of dreary who you were . . .
Uh, are . . .
There's nothing that can stop you . . .
From becoming popular . . . lar . . .
Everyone in the room elicited a small chuckle at the girl's exaggerated mistake. Ava seemed to thrive off a crowd and only got stronger.
~ La, la, la, la . . . ~
We're gonna make you pop-u-lar . . .
When I see depressing creatures . . .
With unprepossessing features . . .
I remind them on their own behalf . . .
To. Think. Of . . .
Celebrated heads of state . . .
Or specially great communicators . . .
Did they have brains or knowledge?
Don't make me laugh!
They were popular!
Please, it's all about popular!
It's not about aptitude . . .
It's the way you're viewed . . .
So it's very shrewd to be . . .
Very, very popular like me . . .
Summer stopped to take a breath and glanced at Bridgette. ''Why, Miss Elphaba,'' she said in the sweetest of tones, ''look at you. You're beautiful.''
''I - I have to go,'' Bridgette replied, running back to her seat and holding back a giggle.
''You're welcome . . .''
And though you protest . . .
Your disinterest . . .
I know clandestinly . . .
You're gonna grin and bear it . . .
Your newfound popularity!
Ah!
~ La, la, la la . . . ~
You'll be popular . . .
Just not quite as popular . . . as . . . me!
Ava was out of breath when the song ended, and she only nodded once before sitting back in her seat, glancing curiously at Wes. ''Well?'' she asked impatiently.
''Welcome to the Cardinals,'' the Asian answered. Kurt looked quite pleased with the performance and settled himself in his chair. ''Alright, who's next to the slaughterhouse. Or, auditions. Whichever way you wish to put it.'' Despite the smirk on Wes' face, even Blaine wasn't quite sure if his friend was joking.
