Disclaimer: Bri and I have decided, we could own glee but after the madness that has gone done via Ryan Murphy's tweets , (someone please take his twitter away from him), we don't want to. We kinda like it in fanfiction land. So, we don't own glee or it's characters. (thank God)
A/N: hey so here is the new update! *parties* Sorry it took long. Blame me (Gina). I've been running around like mad and also trying to update my other fics but have no fear, here is a nice lengthy chapter for ya'll. Be kind, review! ( I wish that rhymed)
"Mercedes, wait!" called out Sam.
He'd only been vaguely aware of the owner's authoritative voice, demanding to know what was going on, as he pushed his way through the crowd to follow after Mercedes. He knew Quinn could be cruel when she wanted to be, but hearing her call Mercedes ugly struck a nerve. And worse, hearing Quinn foolishly tell Mercedes to go home to the mother that no longer lived—that left a painful pulsing pain straight from Sam's heart. He didn't know what it was like to lose someone so close to him, but as he was growing to know Mercedes more, he could gather that her mom was important to her, in life and posthumously.
Once out in the chilly night, he looked around urgently until he spotted Mercedes on her hands and knees—one of her heels without a owner—and her head bowed. Her new hairstyle curtained her face from him but he hurried to her side and crouched down, reaching out without even thinking twice.
She immediately flinched away and chocked back a sob, "Don't touch me."
"It's me, Mercedes," Sam whispered feebly, wondering if his presence would make a difference to her or not. She'd probably prefer Puck or Kurt right now since he was technically part of that "World" Quinn spoke of.
"I…I shouldn't have come," breathed Mercedes, right before a deep sniffle.
"Mercedes, I—"
She raised one hand, palm side up and Sam immediately went quiet, grimacing at her hidden face.
"I swore…I swore to myself…that no one…at our school…would ever see me cry."
Despite her vow, Sam could see her back bowing every so often with her quiet sobs.
"Why?" he asked. "Why don't you want anyone at our school to see you cry."
"Because," she replied without hesitation. After a couple of sniffles, she reached up and wiped her eyes, and then raised her head to look at Sam. "You think I don't know what you and your friends, or anyone else at the school says about me? Why shouldn't I act like I can take it? Why let anyone who doesn't even know me, get the satisfaction of seeing their words get to me? When I act the way I act, do you think it comes natural? I have to force this exterior. Ever since my mom died, I had to become this whole other person, so that no one…nothing could ever hurt me again. I didn't want to leave that party because I wasn't having fun, it was because I couldn't stand it if everyone saw me in tears. Do you even know what that's like, Sam?"
Sam didn't have an answer. He couldn't deny to her face that he never had any part in the teasing and name-calling; in fact he thought back to just the other week when Finn named her his target for the bet, and how he called her a hippie glee geek feminazi—and that was one of the kinder insults of many, spouted amongst him and his friends. Guilt hit him like ton of bricks, and seeing Mercedes look him full in the face with tears streaking down her from the corners of her eyes made his heart ache. He felt a strong urge to make things right with her—to take the tears away. The bet was momentarily forgotten as he reached up and hesitantly ran a thumb beneath her eyes. She flinched away at first but allowed him to do the other side while he asked, "Can I make this up to you?"
After another sniffle she shook her head, "No, I knew I shouldn't have come and I'm not about to re-live it—"
"Not that's not what I mean. I meant…" he stared at the ground trying to figure out whether or not he should ask or simply say it. He opted on the latter once his green irises looked at her face again. "Come have dinner at my house. Next Friday. You wouldn't have to worry about Quinn or anyone else from school being there—except Artie but I don't think he's got anything against you, last time I checked."
His small attempt to make her smile worked. She stared at the ground and smiled one weak smile for only a second but it was enough to make Sam hopeful.
"I'll think about it."
He sighed one breathy chuckle and repeated, "Never getting a straight answer from you."
"No offense, Sam but now's not a time I wanna be agreeing to a…a date."
His cheeks instantly prickled with heat when she called his dinner invitation a date. Technically she was right—it did seem like something of a date, even if it wasn't going to just be the two of them…
"About that…"He rose to his feet and offered a hand to help her. When she accepted, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again and went on to say, "Um…my parents might be there too."
Her brows rose and while she wiped away the last of her tears she shrugged and faintly smiled again, "That's fine. I'll get to meet the folks responsible for Artie's crazy-funny self."
Sam chuckled once, dryly, "Heh, yeah." Easy for her to say, he thought. They're not responsible for anything when it comes to Artie unless it's my Mom trying to kill her guilt by smothering him.
For a moment it seemed like his thoughts were no longer internal; Mercedes regarded him with clear confusion, and just as he got ready to open his mouth and tell her 'nothing', the double doors to Breadstix opened again and their classmates began trickling out, murmuring either about something being 'lame' or Mercedes' 'bitch costume' remark to Quinn. Midway through the parade of fleeing teens, Quinn and Cooper sauntered out with a small entourage of Cooper Anderson admirers, tailing him with requests for his autograph and pictures with him. He was obliging to each and every one, and the only thing to give Sam satisfaction about seeing Quinn tonight now, was that she looked blatantly upset by all the attention her D-List boy toy was getting.
Not far behind their crowd came Artie and Lauren. Artie wheeled himself out and spotted Sam and Mercedes in no time; Meanwhile Lauren was lagging due to her eyes being glued to her cell phone.
Sam arched his brow at the goofy, 'I have a crush' smile his sister was wearing but was momentarily halted from asking her about it when Artie spoke up.
"We thought you guys left us here. Puck 's been trying to call your phone, Ms. , big dude? Grey hair? Is that Puck's dad?"
Mercedes immediately frowned, "Thanks Artie. I better go find Puck and let him know I'm okay. And yeah, that's Mr. Puckerman. Why?"
"Oh well, he kind of threw us all out. He was piiiiisseeddd!" Artie said surprisingly happily. "Don't blame him, though."
Mercedes smiled faintly thinking about how Mr. Puckerman was like her second father, always looking after her. The little scene that Quinn Fabray created was probably not to his liking.
"I should go talk to them," Mercedes said to her friends.
"Okay," said Sam. "We'll wait for you in the truck."
She shook her head, "It's fine—I can catch a ride home from Puck."
Something protective or jealous made Sam say, "I can take you though."
All three pairs of eyes regarded his possessive tone with suspicion, causing him to immediately back-track. "I mean…we all came together—we should leave together. Besides, even though Quinn decided to screw things up, I still wanna end the night right."
Mercedes shook her head slowly again but this time she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's fine, Sam. It's one less trip for you and your siblings—you can just go straight home." She reached out and put a hand on his upper arm, sending a weird sensation through his body.
"I'll see you on Monday. Bye Artie, Lauren," she said with a small wave and even smaller smile. Once she turned and left, Sam caught Artie still staring with his suspicious gaze; Lauren lowered her eyes to her phone again.
"Girl who are you texting?" asked Artie.
Sam's brows furrowed, "Yeah I was just about to ask the same thing."
"None of your business," Lauren replied. "But what happened with Mercedes?"
"Yeah, now that is our business," Artie decided.
As the three Evans siblings started towards Sam's Tundra, he asked, "Since when?"
"Since you invited us to her house this morning, and had Lauren help give Hot Mama a makeover. Don't get me wrong—homegirl looks all sorts of fine but I'm telling you bro, she looked just as good before."
"I know," Sam muttered before he could stop himself. When he realized it was spoken aloud, he avoided the wide stares his siblings were giving him and tried shifting the subject. "Listen, I invited her over for dinner Friday."
"Say what now?"
Lauren opened one of the rear passenger doors and Sam crouched to help Artie out of his chair, "Yeah. Things didn't really go all that great tonight in case you hadn't noticed so I invited her over to make up for it."
"Okayyyy?" said Lauren, "But….why dinner at the house?"
Sam took a deep breath and started folding up Artie's wheelchair, "I'm hoping Mom and Dad will be busy like they usually are. Then it'd just be the four of us."
Lauren laughed openly in Sam's face. "Yeah well we'll see how that works out."
Early Monday at school, Puck had been trailing Mercedes asking her about the party, prior to Quinn's juvenile act.
"Ugh," she groaned, "Can we please just not talk about Saturday as if it never happened?"
"Uh, no?" replied Puck. "For one it did happen. And two in case you hadn't noticed every dude at this school's been eye fucking you up and down the halls."
She sighed, "I promised Kurt I'd give some of these new outfits a try this week. Never made any promises about my classes."
"Who cares? Your hair and stuff's giving you a sexy nerd look."
Mercedes face scrunched up as she giggled and swatted Puck's arm," Sexy nerd? Now I know you've lost your mind."
"Lookin' good, Mercedes," someone mumbled in passing.
Mercedes' laughs cut off and she looked back to see one of the baseball players' Letterman jacket-clad back retreating from her. When she turned back around she shook her head and went to carry on her conversation with Puck on how she was going to humor Kurt for the week, but again she was caught off guard by another compliment from a passerby.
"…What is going on?" she muttered warily to Puck.
"I told you—you've got it going on now, 'Cede!"
Puck wiggled his brows and nudged her with his elbow a couple of times; she pushed his elbow and hissed, "Stop that."
"What's crackin', Titans?! Did my birthday come early this year? 'Cause I got all kinds of goodies this morning. First up—the countdowns continue for you dinosaurs. Get it? Anyway, We're looking at 4 more weeks til prom and 6 more weeks til the seniors take their final walk through the McKinley halls! And then we all know I'll be ruling this school so you best respect the king of nerd swag! Next up? Prom proposals! Think you're brewing the best of the best? Share your stories here! Winner of the best one gets two free tickets to prom this year. I'm predicting a free ride to prom might go to those crazy lovers on Rileystreet. Amber baby? Chord says that you just say the funniest things that make his day. You two are giving me cavities!Next, senior ditch day—seniors beware, Figginsain'tplayin' around this year. Last year's seniors took 3 ditch days and he's having NONE of that this year!" Artie chuckled, "If a bunch of y'all skip more than one day, he's threatening to suspend the prom this year. Yikes! Don't let those pretty dresses and ugly suits go to waste! And speaking of all this prom buzz, Firecracker Fabray might wanna watch her step. There's a new nominee in town and word on the street is, she's got a good chance of stealing your tiara without even trying! Damn! Well homegirl should know she's already got my vote! Congrats to the Hot Mama, Mercedes Jones!"
Mercedes skidded to a halt in the middle of the hallway—eyes wide, hand clamping Puck's arm for support. "What?!"
"Best of luck to ya, babydoll! Enjoy your day boys and babes!"
When Artie's voice cut from the intercom, Mercedes looked up at Puck, "Who the hell would nominate me?"
Puck was regarding her like a proud parent, or an overjoyed older sibling, "Who cares?! The point is, you are and according to Artie, you've got a good change of kicking Quinn's ass!"
"How? And why?"
He shrugged, "Dunno. Maybe it was you telling her off at the party?"
Mercedes snorted and rolled her eyes, "Everyone already knows she's a bitch—I didn't say anything new."
"I dunno, 'Cede but look around you!"
She did and was again taken aback by what she was seeing. People from various cliques were hanging up posters and fliers, telling the student body to vote for Mercedes Jones for prom queen. Someone had scanned and blown up her yearbook picture from last year to use on the posters, and now several others in the hall were staring at her—either with admiration or confusion of their own. Finally she turned her attention back to Puck, "How much do you wanna bet Sam had something to do with this?"
"Why? Isn't he supposedly going to prom with Quinn?"
"I don't know. I doubt it after she made fun of him for wearing glasses. Besides she's dating Cooper Anderson." She mulled things over for a few seconds before asking, "You think he's trying to bump me into the spotlight now for prom votes?"
Puck shook his head, "No offense, 'Cede but guys don't usually care about prom crap—not winning a Party City crown at least. But I told you that guy likes you. Quit being so suspicious of him already."
"Yeah, yeah," She said though deep down she agreed with Puck's words. She just hated admitting that she was falling for Sam. He'd been sweet and funny and caring towards her in his own way, and he seemed genuinely invested in making up the turn of events from Breadstix.
"I'll catch you later, okay?" said Mercedes, turning and fleeing from Puck. She hurried her way through the hall, hoping to find Sam in the quad before the morning bell rang. Sure enough, he was grouped around Finn, Mike and was back to wearing his contacts today but she decided not to give him a hard time about it. When she approached she was immediately welcomed and congratulated by the group.
"Even though we all know that crown belongs to me, I'm happy for you, Mercedes," said Santana.
As Mercedes started to thank Santana, Santana's phone beeped loudly, indicating a text. She checked and let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh great."
"What's the matter, hot stuff?" asked Finn.
She held up her phone, "Quinn. 911 text."
"911 text?"
Santana rolled her eyes, "We send them in emergency situations. Ugh I don't have time for her petty ass but she'll blow my phone up like a fucking parade balloon if I don't at least see what's up. Catch you guys later."
"Yeah, Mike and I have practice later but Mercedes? I didn't get to tell you last night how ravishing you looked. Really, I mean, I always knew you were a knockout but damn! Oh and one more thing, I'm pretty sure you're going to win." Finn winked and smiled widely at Mercedes.
"Thanks, Finn." Mercedes said softly.
Sam looked away to avoid anyone noticing the obvious jealousy splattered across his face.
They all said their farewells and a moment later, Finn and Mike were peeling away from the group to head to class, leaving Mercedes alone with Sam. She looked up at him, "So…"
"So," he echoed back, beaming that crooked smile at her.
She smiled too and said, "I thought about your dinner invitation.
His brows rose and she saw the hope rise up his face. "You have?"
"Yep. And my answer is 'yes'."
"Really?!"
"If…"
He dropped his head slightly and then looked back up at her smiling anxiously, "If?"
"You promise me you had nothing to do with me getting nominated for prom queen."
She watched him give her a skeptical look, "You're serious?"
Her arms folded, saying nothing aloud though her physical actions were enough of an answer.
Sam sighed, "No, I had nothing to do with you getting nominated. I promise. People were buzzing about your appearance at the party before I got to school this morning."
It was her turn to look surprised and a bit skeptical, "Really?"
"Really. Why is it so hard for you to believe that you're a great person?"
She snorted, "Do we need to go back over that conversation in the parking lot, Saturday?"
He tucked his lips in his mouth and shook his head.
"So I'll see you Friday at your place?"
Sam nodded, smiling again. "Yes. And hey, let's have lunch sometime this week?"
To tease and continue with her vague responses to him she smiled and waltzed away telling him, "We'll see."
At her back she heard Sam call out, "You're cruel, Ms. Jones!" but she could hear the amusement in his voice as he said it and it made her smile the entire way to class.
Friday came in no time. It seemed like their senior year had flown by so fast. They were looking at nearly 3 weeks til prom now but Mercedes had opted not to care much about the hype around school over her "battle" for prom queen against Quinn. Quinn's 911 text ended up being her meltdown over Cooper dumping her the night of the party—right in front of her house after dropping her off from Breadstix. Santana seemed happy to report back to Finn, Sam, and Mike with the news but her joy over Quinn's sorry was extinguished the moment Quinn caught wind of her new prom rival.
The one, who surprised her the most, was Finn Hudson. Quickly becoming her campaign manager, he was directing all her schoolmates that had volunteered to make cupcakes, buttons, pens, and even notebooks with her name and face on them. The end of the school day on Friday meant Mercedes was about to have the weekend to avoid prom chatter, campaign posters, and slushie threats from Quinn's proponents. And lthough Finn's energy in promoting her campaign was very flattering, Mercedes had only one thing on her mind the whole week: the inevitable meeting with the Evans'. To her own surprise she'd been looking forward to her dinner date with Sam and his siblings.
After dumping possibly every piece of clothing she owned, Mercedes threw herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow. Her father was just passing her bedroom when he heard her and knocked on her door. When she didn't answer, he poked his head in and his eyes widened in sheer horror at the usually clean room. It looked like a tornado had struck and there was no signs of the floor. "Princess? Are you alright?"
Mercedes shook her head into the pillow. "Don't worry dad. I'll clean this up."
Mr. Jones walked into the room, avoiding stepping on any his daughter's wardrobe and sat next to her. He softly caressed the back of her head, crossed his legs and smiled. "Now, does this have anything to do with a little meet the parents session planned for tonight?"
Mercedes couldn't help but giggle and threw her pillow at her father. "How did you know about that?"
Mr. Jones laughed, admiring his daughter smile, thinking it had been way too long since he had seen that expression on her face. It bothered him slightly that a boy was the reason behind that but he figured he'd take what he can get. "Well, considering your phone is off and Kurt has left about 8 messages on our answering machine until Wade finally picked it up and they've been talking about it for about an hour, it's pretty easy to get information around here."
Mercedes groaned and sat up. "Dad, I have nothing to wear and I just wanted to do this alone. No makeover, no crazy fake eyelash debacles and I thought I could but as you can see, I'm failing!" Mercedes waved her hands over her bedroom floor and laughed.
Her father nodded her head in agreement. "Well, you're in luck, Miss Jones because I happen to be an expert at meet the parents fashion."
Mercedes couldn't contain her laughter as it boomed in the room. She gently laid her head on her father's shoulder and smiled. "Oh yeah? So what should I wear, Daddy?"
Mr. Jones' heart nearly stopped at his daughter's vulnerability. Daddy. She was calling him daddy. He put one hand on her leg and breathed in. "How about that dark blue dress your mom got you two years ago? With the white trim on the waist? And…." Mr. Jones looked around and pointed to a pair of flats. "Your white shoes over there?"
Mercedes' face lightened up and she kissed her father's forehead. She ran into her closet and pulled out the cute spring, lacey blue dress her mother had gotten her for her singing competition. "It's perfect" She whispered, admiring the dress in her mirror. "It's perfect!" She yelled from the closet to her father.
Mr. Jones chuckled and stood up. "My work here is done, then." He made his way to the door when Mercedes ran out of the closet to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks daddy."
The two stood in their much needed embrace for a while until her father pulled away. "Now get ready young lady."
"I got it!" Lauren yelled.
"No! I've got it!" Artie screamed over his sister.
The two fought over the doorknob when Sam walked over to them, arranging the collar on his shirt. "Do I look okay?"
"You look fine" They both said in unison.
Sam rolled his eyes at his feuding siblings and placed his big hand over the door knob. "I think I should answer the door."
With that, the twins pulled back and watched as their older brother welcomed Mercedes. Sam opened the door and was pretty sure he was drooling. Mercedes smiled, bowing her head, and straightening her dress. "Do you like it? My mom got it for me. A while ago."
Sam was speechless. Mercedes Jones stood before him, wearing her black rimmed glasses, dark blue lace, spring dress with a white waist trim, and white flats. Her hair looked beautiful, the thick curls falling on her shoulders. She wasn't wearing much make up; just some black eyeliner above her eye and nude lip gloss. Her cheeks had a natural blush to them and for the first time, Sam Evans saw Mercedes Jones in her natural, beautiful, state—no makeovers, no dramatic change. And although the dress from the other night was sexy, he couldn't help but appreciate this side of her more. Was this what he was missing? Feeling a mix between guilt and admiration, Sam gulped. "I…it's...you." Sam chuckled. "I've never had trouble with words. You look…beautiful."
Mercedes cheeks flushed as Sam took her hand and brought her into his house. Artie and Lauren were before them, arms crossed giving them an "I see you" face.
Mercedes had to laugh and Sam followed. Soon enough, the four teenagers were laughing in a usually quiet house for apparently no reason.
"Well, well, well. What's this? I haven't seen a smile on that face in a long time." A warm voice poured over the laughter and the four recovered. Mrs. Evans walked in, wearing a flattering dress, black pumps, and her blonde locks were up in bun. They all stood quietly and she spoke again. "So, is someone going to introduce me?"
Artie and Lauren smirked. "We're going to…" Lauren began coming up with an excuse to leave to another room.
"Chop up the lettuce," Artie finished.
"Right." Lauren pushed her brother's wheelchair into the kitchen.
Sam shook his head at his traitor siblings and boldly grabbed Mercedes' hand. "This is Mercedes Jones, mom. The girl I was telling you about."
Mercedes' stomach sunk. Sam had spoken to his mother about her. She had a million questions at that point. What did he say to her? What does she think they are? Are they dating? She doesn't even know what they are. Is this a date? Should she curtsey? Of course not! They're not royalty. Mercedes bit the inside of her cheek and extended her hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you Mrs. Evans."
Mrs. Evans smiled politely at Mercedes and took her small hand into hers. "The pleasure is all mine, dear. I've heard so much about you. I hope you're hungry. I ordered Thai!"
Mercedes nodded. "I love Thai food."
Mrs. Evans smiled and took Mercedes' hand. "Well, maybe you can help me figure something out. I'm having trouble with this karaoke machine we got Artie. Sam tells me you're a singer."
"Mom, I said singer not a repair woman!" Sam said bitterly.
Mercedes chuckled and followed Mrs. Evans into the living room. "Psh, please Sam. You don't know what I've got!" She laughed and turned back to wink at Sam.
Mrs. Evans couldn't contain her joy and pulled out a state of the art Karaoke machine, still in its original box. "I have no idea how to put this together. Maybe after dinner, we can have a go at it? Lauren doesn't do electronics and I don't want Artie to do it since it's for him. You know? And Sam is too busy hitting those book! Right, sweetheart?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Right mom."
Mercedes' jaw dropped. Never in a million years would she be able to afford such an expensive piece of equipment. She ran her hands over the box. "This is incredible. Of course, I'll help."
Mrs. Evans gave Mercedes a squeeze around her shoulders, but her expression immediately changed when she heard the keys in the front door. "That must be your father, Sam. Go take his jacket and suitcase. I'll go set the table."
Sam rushed into the hallway and Mrs. Evans made her way into the dining room.
Mercedes noticed the abrupt change in the atmosphere and nervously fixed the trim on her dress. She stood up and followed Mrs. Evans into the dining room. "I can help."
"Nonsense, Mercedes. You're a guest. Please, make yourself comfortable."
Mercedes stared at the 12 seat cherry wood table. Why the heck would a family of 5 need so many chairs? She shook her head at her thoughts and took a seat at the table. She watched as Mrs. Evans scurried in her black pumps to get the table ready. Lauren and Artie came into the dining room. Artie was carrying a bowl of salad and Lauren was carrying a glass pitcher of wine in one hand and soda in the other. Mercedes helped Artie place the bowl onto the table. Lauren helped Artie on his chair and the two sat across from Mercedes.
"I'd like to apologize in advance." Lauren whispered.
Mercedes had a confused expression on her face.
"For our dad." Artie finished his sister's thought and placed his hands on his laps.
Mrs. Evans finished setting the table and placed 6 different their dishes across the table. She stood at one end of the table and waited.
"Dad, just don't bring it up at dinner, please." Mercedes overheard Sam talking to his father.
"Son, we're talking about it one way or another. I don't care if the president is sitting in there. Now, let's go. Your mother and your guest are waiting."
Mr. Evans walked into the room followed by a very angry looking Sam.
Mercedes stood up and Lauren smirked. "Don't do that." She whispered.
Mr. Evans heard the snarky comment from his teenage daughter and smiled at Mercedes. "It's nice to have someone with manners around here. You must be Mercedes." He walked over and extended his hand.
Mr. Evans looked like what she would imagine Sam would look like twenty years from now. He was tall, lean, handsome just like Sam. Mercedes extended her hand, making eye contact with Sam, reminding herself to ask him later if he was alright. "Yes, thank you so much for having me for dinner, Mr. Evans."
"Well, the pleasure is all mine. We had to meet the girl that was taking up so much of Sam's time."
Artie nearly choked on his glass of soda and Lauren glared at her father.
Mercedes felt immediately uncomfortable and took her seat once Mr. Evans took his. Sam sat next to her and took her hand under the table. He leaned in slightly and whispered softly. "I'm so sorry."
She bit her bottom lip, surprised with Sam's vulnerability and shrugged. "No big deal, Sammy."
Sammy. She had called him Sammy. Sam's heart fluttered and he eased up next to his friend.
The dishes were passed around the table in silence with a few "Mmmm"'s from Artie and chuckles from Lauren. Sam and Mercedes tried their best to remain composed while Mr. and Mrs. Evans had a staring contest from across the table.
Finally, Artie spoke up.
"So, Mercedes was nominated for Prom Queen." He brought his fork to his mouth. "And I think she's going to win."
Mercedes smiled, bowing her head shyly. Sam squeezed her hand—the same hand she had been holding the whole time, to keep him sane.
"So, you're running against Quinn Fabray?" Mrs. Evans asked.
"Yes, ma'am. I don't even know how it happened. One day I'm sitting in Glee club, singing with my friends and brother and the next, my face is on every wall at McKinley."
"Well, I think it's great. It's about time someone with substance ran for queen at McKinley. Isn't that right, Dwight?" Mrs. Evans looked at Mr. Evans. He cocked his head slightly, while attacking his food with a fork.
"I'm a bit biased, Mary. You know that." Mrs. Evans smiled at Mercedes. "Sorry, Mercedes, Mr. Fabray and I are good friends. So it's a little awkward talking to his daughter's competitor."
"It's just a stupid prom queen election. It's not like the world is being saved! Sheesh!" Lauren muttered.
Mercedes tucked in her lip, wanting so badly to speak up and agree with Lauren. Instead, she winked at Lauren.
"It's not just a stupid election, Lauren. It's about status. In the world, you're nothing without a name to put to yourself. It's something to write in your college essay, on your resume." Mr. Evans continued, almost as if this was part of a litany he has given before. "What do you think, Mercedes? I'm sure you agree with me. People like you and Sam and Quinn are part of a special world and should be recognized."
Mercedes knees were shaking. Was there really a problem with her saying something?
"Well, we're not really a part of the same world, sir. I was nominated. It was a surprise to me. I don't think status is all that important…with all due respect" Mercedes shoved a forkful of noodles in her mouth to keep herself from continuing.
"Well, for one, I'm glad, Mercedes. I hope you win. McKinley needs a change." Mrs. Evans interrupted.
The tension was almost too much to bear. The Evans clan and Mercedes continued eating.
"I'm sorry Mercedes, but I cannot agree with you. If you go for a job interview for instance, do you think the employer will hire the graduate from a community college or the graduate from an Ivy league?" Mr. Evans continued with his rant.
"Dad!" Sam gritted his teeth.
"It's a legitimate question." Mr. Evans took a sip of his wine. "Mercedes?"
"Well I believe in skill over education. Who cares what school you went to? What if the Ivy League student made a haphazard decision to attend a school merely for its title, but has no idea what they're doing whereas the community college student is making a steady climb towards their set career goal?"
Mr. Evans chuckled. "You're telling me a Harvard graduate wouldn't know what they're doing compared to a community college graduate?"
"Yes, sir I am. They don't teach you everything at those schools. What's the point of paying so much for school if you're going to graduate burnt out and with no social skills whatsoever!" Mercedes raised her voice slightly and sharpened it with her gaze.
All eyes were on Mr. Evans and Mercedes Jones. Artie tried to hide his amusement along with Lauren and Mrs. Evans watched in pure admiration of the spunky, teenager. Sam bit his bottom lip listening, thinking how Mercedes was saying all the things he wish he could.
"The point, Mercedes, is a job security and status. Like I said earlier."
"Okay, fine. Let's talk about status, sir. Let's say I win prom queen and I want to join the peace corps. Do you think they care that I have a plastic little tiara from Party City sitting on my dresser or that I ran my own campaign at the age of 6 to stop world hunger."
Sam shot her a lop-sided grin of pride.
"Well of course, the latter, Mercedes…" Mr. Evans started to speak when Mercedes interrupted again.
"Then, that works with education too. You talk about status but that doesn't exist anymore. This is the new world, sir. How fair is that for people who can't afford Ivy League schools and can't be one in ten who receive full rides? So, let's say I want to be president some day and I know everything there is about politics. I know all my platforms, I can change the world, yadda yadda yadda and so-on, but I graduated from Lima Community. How does that make me less eligible than the Yale graduate but only cares about one section of the country while the rest has to endure?"
Everyone looked over to Mr. Evans, waiting a retaliation.
"That's politics, Mercedes." Mr. Evans shrugged.
"Yeah, which is why this country is falling behind in its superior ranks as a superpower!" Mercedes raised her voice again. "Because people like yourself feel they can and should run it. Why? Because you have a fancy diploma and bank about 10 grand a month. That's not democracy, sir—it's a petty image complex and it's a problem."
"Oh my God, if you don't marry this girl, I will." Artie finally said. His sister and mother stifled their laughter. Sam looked at his father and shrugged. "I agree with her, Dad."
Mr. Evans put his fork down and looked at his son. "I'm sorry?"
"I agree with her. Years from now, no one is going to care what school I went to, the clothes I wore, whether or not I wore a letterman jacket. That will all be irrelevant."
"Sam, you can't say that when you already planned your future…"
" I planned my future around YOU, Dad!"
Mercedes felt the guilt of giving Sam balls and lowered her face into her hand. Mrs. Evans squeezed her arm and Mercedes looked up. She winked at her and smiled like an obviously proud parent.
"You planned your future around me? Is that right? Tell me how that makes sense."
"I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not!."
"We're not talking about this now, Sam," Mr. Evans hypocritically declared, and then muttered, "Don't embarrass yourself around your girlfriend."
Mercedes eyes widened from the shock. "Oh I'm not…"
"More soda?" Artie interrupted.
Mercedes sat quietly and let Artie pour her glass, staring very intently as the bubbly liquid filled up her glass.
Meanhwhile Sam was looking like he liked the way that sounded. His girlfriend. He just wasn't ready to admit that to himself.
"You what? I like you Mercedes. You speak your mind and that's going to be very important in your future. I see you doing great things. Harvard would love you. I have a friend in admissions, I'll call them come Monday morning. They have a great music department too and I hear music's your forte. No pun intended."
Mercedes balked openly at the Evans' patriarch. She couldn't believe what was happening. Mr. Evans had just completely ignored her rant, his son's pleas, and turned it into let's save Mercedes night.
"That won't be necessary, sir." Mercedes said softly.
"Of course it is. You're very bright."
Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes at her husband's behavior. He didn't want to deal with his son so he found himself a new project.
"Oh hey! By the way!" Artie interjected again, attempting to redirect the attention. "Lauren is going to do the make-up for Lima state's rendition of Beauty and the Beast. Yeah, she's that good! She's the youngest make-up artist in Lima to get hired. Isn't that something?"
"Artie…" Lauren said in a low reprimanding tone.
"No sis. Dad should know. Oh and by the way, I got an A on my Calculus test. Did you know I took calculus?" he added with a humorless smile. "I'm a sophomore and I take Calculus! And I was put on full time at the school's radio station. I'm that good!" Artie swallowed bitterly, adding to his tight smile.
Mercedes smiled appreciatively at Lauren and Artie. "That's really great you guys."
Mrs. Evans smiled proudly at her son while also looking astonished. "I didn't know…"
"Well, maybe if you guys laid off of Sam for a bit and paid attention to us, you would know all of that. Oh and Mercedes isn't some project, Dad. She does have a bright future ahead of her—Ivy League school or not. She doesn't need you or anyone fixing her." Artie glared at his father. "Excuse me." He placed his napkin on the table and Lauren helped sit him in his wheelchair. She smiled at Mercedes and Sam. "Sorry guys."
With that, Lauren wheeled her brother and left the dining room.
Artie's words hit Sam hard, mostly because he agreed wholeheartedly. Mercedes didn't need anyone to fix her. She was perfect the way she was.
"Well, this has been an eventful night. Mercedes? I hope we didn't scare you away. I've got a big investment I'm working on so I'll have to excuse myself for now." Mr. Evans wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table. He abruptly walked out of the dining room and Mary Evans stood up.
"Don't worry about cleaning up, guys. Mercedes?" When Mercedes looked up at her, she smiled sweetly and added, "I hope you can join us again sometime."
Mercedes nodded her head in agreement while clamping down on her lips and watched Mary Evans follow Dwight Evans out of the room. The next few minutes were awkward, as she and Sam sat quietly at the table, listening to the yelling coming from the den. Mercedes was the one squeezing Sam's hand under the table this time. They didn't say anything to each other but it was understood that Sam needed her there. Sam moved his chair even closer to Mercedes and whispered. "Thank you."
A/N: Geez! That was long! So tell us what you think about the Evans!