Author's Note: I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter, and if I have lost all readers because of it, I understand. This was a bear to write, and to be honest, I'm reluctant to even post this. But I've written and re-written all the pieces so many times that I'm afraid I'm just going to have to admit defeat and move on. (I have some scenes from chapters farther out already written and am so DESPERATE to get the story there.) At any rate, if you are reading, please review. Hearing of any remaining interest will hopefully help me get the next installment out much much much faster.
Also, hope you don't think this sucks.
Thanks for visiting, now on with the show… (which, I do not own the characters of, blah blah blah.)
!
Rachel took a slow, steadying breath.
She inspected her reflection, as carefully as possible in a rear-view mirror, and believed she looked as good as she was going to.
She could hear Noah's voice in her head, offering a simple yet oddly profound utterance of, "Bring it, Berry," as she slipped out of her car and began walking towards the school, with purpose and conviction hastening her every step. She tried not to notice the quickly filling parking lot, as this was definitely not the time to start being intimidated by crowds.
No, this was the time to start making things happen, to put her innate star power and surplus of self-confidence to good use. She lifted her chin just a little higher as she reminded herself of all that.
Typically, the school board met in one of the larger classrooms, but the buzz around her presentation and proposal had escalated to the point that the auditorium was being used tonight instead to accommodate the expected dramatic increase in attendance. Artie and a few of the AV kids had been in there since school was dismissed for the day, securing all connections for the projector screen and the sound system. Testing and re-testing to be sure things went off without a hitch. Mercedes had been hard at work too, making calls and sending texts since 4th period, all to be sure every possibly-attending student she could think of knew where to show up and when.
Even Jacob Ben Israel, who had been blogging a countdown to the meeting for the last week, had been contributing, posting a new updated video informing of the location change and urging people to show up...if for no other reason than mere curiosity.
Rachel appreciated that people had been putting in so much time and effort, still were, right to the last possible moment. But she'd decided, quietly, to take the afternoon off so to speak, and she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty or regret it.
She'd left school quickly after classes let out, gone home and retired to her room, taking the time to be alone...for the first time in months, it seemed. She'd needed to relax a little, to reflect some, to prepare for the last stage of this steadily intensifying endeavor she'd somehow stirred up and rooted herself so deeply into.
And it had really been mind-expanding in a way, all the things she considered in the quiet hours of the waning afternoon.
She'd started out by sitting at her desk and pulling up her MySpace page. A series of motions, a simple action, that had once been so frequent and familiar it had often felt like autopilot.
But not this time. She hadn't posted a video in months, the last one dated from mid-July.
She had scrolled passed that one (a variation of "Some Enchanted Evening" from South Pacific, put up just after an amazing date with Finn) on through to those from before she'd fallen in love with the tall quarterback, from before glee had become glee even, and then carefully re-read each of the comments her peers had left, every insult and put-down. She could recognize some of the handles now, and had easily picked out which ones were Santana's or Quinn's, but rather than feel a resurgence of the bitterness, or even the hurt, their words had once brought about, she'd merely felt grateful.
That wasn't her life anymore. That was not even who they all were anymore.
And if that thought wasn't a reminder of how much better things could be, with just a little effort, she didn't know what was.
She'd turned then in her chair and caught sight of her dresser, where the mirror's frame was currently littered with tucked-in photographs. Once upon a time, not long ago at all actually, she'd had not a single photo to place there, had not a single friend to take photos with.
This afternoon though, there'd been much evidence of the opposite.
A strip from the photo booth at the mall of her with Mercedes, Quinn, and Tina all crammed in the narrow space, imitating "model" poses (sucked in cheeks, pursed lips, over-the-shoulder glances). Then beside it a strip of just Kurt, showing them how it was really done.
The shots her fathers took before the Valentine's dance.
A picture of her and Brittany from a random afternoon rehearsal, tangoing with their hands clasped and pointed towards the camera, cheeks pressed together, smiles wide.
Quinn's photo of Noah, dismayed and covered in water, from the poker game a few weeks back, with Rachel at his side, obviously proud and amused.
One Tina had taken of Santana with Rachel, Lauren, and Mercedes leaning over her, drawing with lipsticks on her face, after the girl'd fallen asleep on the Berry couch one night during a movie.
The image of herself, tucked in a hammock-like blanket, being lifted and swung between Mike and Sam.
Tina with Mike in the Berry kitchen, both laughing at something Rachel couldn't remember. Quinn and Mercedes and Kurt posing as Charlie's Angels in the cinema parking lot. Sam and Artie practicing their "gangsta" expressions in the auditorium, with Mercedes caught rolling her eyes at the sight. Brit giving Santana a piggyback ride around Rachel's front lawn. Lauren and Noah in a staring contest, foreheads practically touching, during lunch in the McKinley cafeteria.
And then she'd stared at the most recent addition, a group shot from their bowling adventure. She'd had to stand way back to get them all in, but the photo was incredibly telling. Brit sat upon Artie's lap, one arm around her boyfriend's neck while the other curled around Santana's waist. San was fake glaring at Puck who stood smirking on her other side, with Lauren resting her hand on his shoulder, obviously laughing hysterically at whatever'd been said between the two former lovers. Mike stood close beside the tall girl, hamming up his smile, his arm wrapped tightly around Tina, who's own arm was linked with Quinn's, as the pretty blonde hugged her other arm around Mercedes, all of the girls' eyes gleaming with amusement, cheeks flushed. Kurt's expression was caught looking over in comical disgust at Finn and Sam who were both sitting backwards in their chairs, each trying (unsuccessfully) to sneak overflowing forkfuls of loaded nachos, layered heavily in meat and cheese and sour cream, into their mouths quickly before the snapshot was taken.
Rachel'd taken a long time looking at that one photo, considering each face carefully. She'd tried to remember them each as they used to be, before.
Some, herself included, so isolated, tormented and lonely.
Some, stuck playing parts that were nothing like their true selves.
All of them just…missing out.
They were so much happier now…all of them. And while it was partly due to their own efforts (in her case very obviously, but even in general, the tight friendships they'd formed of late had only been possible because they had all decided to meet each other halfway), had Mr. Schue not roped Finn into joining the club to start with, and then fostered an environment that kept some peace between them all as they struggled with their differences for the first year, what they enjoyed together now would not have been achievable.
So, why not choose to apply that same philosophy across the board?
Yes, it'd be ridiculously unrealistic to think an entire high school's worth of teenagers could end up best friends. But it wasn't absurd to hope for the possibility of something better than a warzone, was it?
She'd freshened up then, and gotten dressed while going over her presentation in her head, all the while reminding herself that she could do this. Because the school needed it, because they all deserved it.
She could do this because she was Rachel Berry and that meant she was strong.
She could do this because she wasn't alone anymore.
And on that note, after an afternoon of contemplation, she'd locked up the house and made her way back to the school, as ready as she was going to be, humming the entire drive to ease her nerves.
Now that she'd made her way through the familiar halls and was standing backstage in the auditorium, watching the seats fill up and half-listening to the growing din of chatter, she felt, she'd dare to call it, near-invincible.
She saw her dads make their way in, suit-clad and straight from the office, and grab seats as close to the front off of stage left as they could find. She saw Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury-Howell join them a second later, Burt and Carole Hummel waving to them from a few rows back.
She saw students, so many students, many of whose names she did not know, take empty seats where they could but also fill in the space by leaning against walls, standing in the back and in the side aisles.
And she could feel their support, every one of them, and it made her feel sure of her voice, secure in her message.
But then she felt moisture at the corners of her eyes, as her breath was stolen away, at the sight of the glee club (and Kurt) as they entered. All together, walking, and one rolling, heads lifted proudly, as they marched to the "reserved" seating in the first row at stage right (Artie'd posted the signs on the seats himself).
Each one clad in a t-shirt with bold, black text across the chest: "Team Rachel."
And suddenly, totally invincible was exactly what she was feeling.
!
Lauren Zizes had never had a lot of friends by any means, but she'd never been bothered much by that fact. She had enough, she thought, and she was a loner by nature anyway.
But, since finding Noah Puckerman in an overturned port-a-potty almost five months ago, she'd discovered that there was much more to her already fascinating and complex personality than even she'd been aware of.
Apparently, she liked singing. And dancing.
And bowling, of all things.
And she really liked having a lot of friends…if the "lot" consisted of the eleven people surrounding her at this very moment. Plus the tiny brunette who she knew was presently waiting backstage.
She knew it was just about time for the meeting to start, as Figgins was inching his way towards the stairs to the stage, schmoozing with the last few potential donors before getting this show on the road. Stealing a glance down the row, she noted the expressions of her now beloved motley crew.
Beside her the Cheerios' postures were perfect; backs and necks long and erect, chins lifted proudly, eyes cool and superior. Their pretty poise had proven itself time and again as their best offense, and best defense, when it came to social battles. Before joining the club, and for a little while even after, she'd regarded these three girls with significant doses of disdain, writing them off as bitchy, vapid, vacant of true value. Despite what others may have thought, she'd never, not even for a second, been jealous of their undeniable beauty. But she had envied the free pass they'd always been given because of it, the privilege of doing and saying whatever they pleased. Lauren had always spoken her own mind of course, but it hadn't always been well received. And she'd hated how easy the popular girls had it, how Santana Lopez could always run her mouth without risk of reprimand, because of her slender frame and long, shiny hair. Now that Lauren knew them, however, liked them and considered them friends, she saw how incomplete her understanding of them had been. And while she still found fault with a hierarchy that rewarded a perky ponytail and clear skin with high school's equivalent of diplomatic immunity, she no longer was willing to dismiss her peers as unworthy of her time merely because they were popular.
Next down, Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina each looked nervous but eager. Beyond them, Mike and Sam were glancing around, stoically observing the crowd.
At the end of their aisle, an odd picture seated together publicly for the first time in months, neither Puck nor Finn's eyes strayed from the side of the stage where they all knew Rachel was waiting for her introduction.
Artie, chair stationed beside Finn, had what could best be described as his battle face on.
Suddenly, the perpetually nervous sound of their principal's voice brought the auditorium's murmurings to an end and Lauren noted Figgins himself seemed to wince at his volume, but he still swiftly began to ramble through his opening.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the school board, assembled parents, teachers, students, and friends, I'd like to now call this meeting to order. Due to the unusual nature of our first item of business, I'd like to defer the reading of the minutes from the last meeting until April. In the meantime, an electronic copy is viewable from the school's website for any concerned party. Comments or questions can be directed to the school board secretary, Mrs. Lynn Thauser, e-mail address available on the site."
Lauren tried not to yawn overtly at the tediousness of Figgins' voice, but couldn't help but notice how small he looked on stage, even from the first row. He was a nice enough principal, she guessed, even if largely ineffectual, but was seriously lacking in the 'charisma and presence' department.
At that thought, her mind wandered back to Rachel. The only time she didn't think the girl looked ridiculously tiny was when she was up on a stage. Berry certainly had presence, if nothing else, and as Figgins wrapped up his comments, it was about to be put on display for a packed house.
"Now, I would ask that we move to our first agenda point: A proposal for the institution of an Anti-Bullying Policy, to be presented by junior student, Rachel Berry."
Figgins stepped to the side and rigidly lifted his arm to indicate Rachel, as his mechanical head nod invited her on stage. There was a moment of unnatural quiet before an uproar of student applause broke out as their petite champion became visible and walked deliberately, with impeccable posture, toward the microphone.
(Lauren was pretty sure Puck had actually started the clapping, and had given a deafening whistle once it caught on. Not willing to be outdone, she'd echoed that with a powerful shriek of "Wooo! Go Berry!" of her own.)
Once facing her audience, Rachel's bright, wide smile slipped easily across her face as she nodded to her troops, before locking her eyes on the members of the school board seated in the center section as the noise again died down.
She managed to look both shy and bold simultaneously, reserved yet resilient, with the start of her address.
"Good evening. Ladies and gentlemen of the school board, I'd like to thank you in advance for your attention and careful consideration of the information and resulting proposal I, with the help of many of my peers," she indicated with a nod of her head to the massive amount of students crowded into the auditorium space, "intend to lay before you tonight. As I'm sure you remember from your own experience, adolescence can be quite a complicated stage in life. I stand before you, no longer a child. I must deal with such pressures as planning my future and balancing my time. I feel the weight of true responsibility every time I get behind the wheel of my car. I've been introduced to things like accountability, and consequences, as the result of my choices. And I believe you probably could say the same is true for each of your own sons or daughters. But all the same, I'm still not entirely an adult, either. I have much I'm still racing to learn before I leave high school, before I graduate on into college life and then beyond, before the time comes when I must stand entirely on my own. Until then, as I continue to pursue knowledge and growth in this very building, day after day, I still must rely on my parents, my teachers, you, for both guidance and protection. That is why I am here before you tonight. To ask, on behalf of myself and the 78% of the student body who fully support this proposal, for your assistance in creating a better William McKinley High School."
Lauren watched Rachel give a barely perceptible nod and then a projector screen lowered from the ceiling a few feet behind her.
"As you will see in the information I present, and through the documentation provided in the packets handed to you this evening, a number of McKinley students have been hard at work in the recent weeks collecting information, evaluating the current climate of our school, and are sad to say the state of things is, in one word, unacceptable. Over 60% of our student population has admitted to being the victim of/or witness to at least five instances of severe bullying since the start of the current school year. For clarity's sake, "severe" instances refer only to incidents where visible bodily harm was inflicted. Bruising, bleeding, broken bones. Yet, less than 23% of the population saw any form of disciplinary action taken, or any intervention for the sake of future prevention, in these cases. 82% of students came forward during our research to state that they believe we have a significant problem with verbal bullying, with almost 100% of those same students acknowledging that they are concerned for either their own safety or general well-being, or the safety/general well-being of some of their peers, while on school grounds.
"The truth which we hope to illustrate for you tonight is that those hallways," Rachel's slender arm pointed firmly over the audience towards the main entrance doors, "our gym and fields, our cafeteria and classrooms, are NOT part of a safe, healthy, productive environment, one that is conducive for learning and development. This is NOT the concern of a few, or a select minority…this is affecting the majority of our school's student body. And that majority is asking for your help in correcting it."
Clapping broke out amidst the teenagers again. This time Lauren had no idea where it started from, but she eagerly joined in.
She'd seen the short girl be assertive before, marching all around the school, usually to and from the choir room, all bossy and purpose-driven and authoritative. But while Lauren had always (though at first it was begrudgingly) respected Rachel Berry to a degree, and then recently come to truly like and enjoy her company, she was still shocked, and impressed, by the girl standing up now. She was an admirable force in this moment, as her voice grew stronger with every word. She was somehow more than Lauren could have ever imagined. And even as an overly confident and completely self-assured powerhouse-wrestling-badass herself, she couldn't help but be moved.
"I'd like to now continue this presentation with footage of this place during school hours, have some of my classmates and peers share their stories and experiences." Rachel blushed a little, stepping off stage as the video started.
Much of it Lauren had seen now several times through, having been present for many of the tapings and assisting with a good portion of the editing. Still, certain accounts affected her deeply despite the repetition. She hoped that the parents and educators in the audience, that the other students filling up the room behind her, all seeing this for the first time, felt the same tragic pull, the same gut-punch, at the honest-to-God sadness and loneliness and fear flickering across the screen. There was so much bad in the world that you couldn't avoid, could never escape; but there was pain you could be protected from, so long as someone, some ones, were willing to take a stand.
It was so quiet as the video played, and as the overflowing room watched every gasp, all the shuddering breaths or sniffles, each indignant huff, nearly echoed around them, amplified by stillness.
As it went on, there was something building in the air, some buzzing energy that Lauren could feel pulsing along her own skin, and it could not be ignored. For better or worse, every person in that room was reacting.
The final testimonial came on, a last-minute addition, that Lauren had sat in on the filming of and knew Artie specifically had kept from Rachel before this moment, omitted in all pre-screenings, afraid that she would refuse to let it in.
Three familiar voices filtered over the speakers, as two faces Lauren saw so often took over.
Artie, off screen, asked the two boys to introduce themselves.
"Hi, I'm Finn Hudson."
"And I'm Puck."
"Full name, please."
There was the ripple of a slight chuckle, almost a foreign sound due to the seriousness up to this point, throughout the auditorium as on-screen Puck (and Lauren turned her head slightly to notice in-audience Puck match the motion) rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Noah Puckerman."
Artie's voice sounded a little smug as he remarked quietly, "See, that wasn't so hard."
On-screen Finn cleared his throat a little, and sat a little straighter while Puck just lounged lazily, a bit more distance between their chairs than would be normal or necessary.
"We both letter in Baseball, Basketball, and Football. Some of you may know me already, as I've been the starting quarterback for the majority of the last two years."
Lauren thought Finn managed to sound proud, but not boastful, yet Puck's next comment was laced with his classic attitude and ego.
"You probably know me, since I'm the current leader in school history for both number of receptions and total receiving yards in football. I also happen to hold the record for fouling out of the most basketball games, but unfortunately you won't be finding that fun fact posted anywhere, despite my request for a plaque."
This time on-screen Finn rolled his eyes while there were more chuckles from their viewers.
"Anyway," Finn spoke up again, "though we both play sports here at McKinley…"
"And are awesome at them." Puck added, and Finn nodded despite looking annoyed at the interruption.
"…we are also both in the glee club, and have gotten a lot of crap, urgh, sorry Artie, uh…hassle, from the other guys on the football team and stuff because of it. But while it sucks to be out on the field with guys who've thrown slushies in your face, it's nowhere near what a lot of other kids have to deal with, so we aren't here to talk about being bullied. Instead, we thought it might be important for us to tell you the kind of guys we used to be, before glee when we were on the other end of things. 'Cause to be totally honest, we were kind of jerks."
Lauren was honestly surprised that not a single member of the student portion of the audience objected out loud to the use of "kind of." She remembers back to the Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman of junior high and freshman year, and she could barely find a way to reconcile those boys with the two almost-men she knew now.
"I was the first guy to ever throw a slushie, to my knowledge, at McKinley. It was cherry flavored and stained Rachel Berry's blue dress on the third day of 9th grade. I also probably still have more dumpster tosses to my credit than anyone else, ever, despite having given them up, like, a year ago. To put it bluntly, I used to be a huge as-" on-screen Finn stretched his arm out quickly and smacked Puck's shoulder mid-word (with a muttered, "Dude!") and Puck quickly edited himself, "um, jerk. And well, okay, I probably still am and all, but I used to be a jerk and a bully. And the things I used to do to people, the things I still see getting done to people, it's serious stuff and it shouldn't be happening, but, as of right now, it's super freakin' easy to get away with so it's not going to stop."
On-screen Finn's cheeks flushed a little as he took up his part again and something about his expression reminded Lauren of a puppy who knew it had upset its owner. "I'm super ashamed now, of how I used to treat people. Especially because some of the kids I used to pick on, or worse, just stood by and watched get picked on, are, like, some of the most important people in my life at this point. But, I was even ashamed then too, while I was doing it. 'Cause my mom raised me to be better than that, and I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to be "cool" so badly, that I ignored what I knew was right and just went along with what everybody else was doing. For a really long time. Until a teacher, uh Mr. Schuester, forced me into joining glee club. At first, I really didn't want to, 'cause I thought it was like the uncoolest thing ever, but then things changed. I changed. Somehow, he threw us all together, even though we were all from like, different levels of high school coolness, and he made us get along. And, okay, there've been arguments, and sometimes tension or whatever, but we also have always known that he just expects us to give eachother a certain amount of respect, no matter what. And it shouldn't surprise anyone how that makes situations better, because it just makes sense, but it made all of us, like, better people, too. It made it easier for me to be the kind of guy my mom would be proud of, the guy I always wanted to be but just never was."
The video showed Finn shrug a little, obviously uncomfortable talking in front of the camera about this, but also clearly meaning every word, and Lauren wouldn't have been surprised if every single mother in the room wanted to hug him at the moment.
Puck started talking again then, and while much less cuddly, Lauren still found his words no less engaging.
"The way we figure it, none of you want to see kids get tortured. Or at least, we freakin' hope not. You're parents. But some of you still may not want to step in. Maybe you're afraid your sons or daughters are the ones starting stuff, pushing people around. And so you don't want to see them get in trouble, maybe you think you are protecting them, and that's more important to you than protecting some other kid that you don't know. But, I'm going to tell you, you aren't doing anyone any favors. I was an asshole," Finn's head turned abruptly, annoyed again at the cursing on camera, but Puck waved at him dismissively and Lauren remembered being impressed the night they taped this that he'd even made it this far in with any kind of success at self-censorship. He continued right along, "Who told himself that he was so cool and so tough, and then proved it to everyone else with his fists and some property damage. But really, I was just pissed off and miserable, and one scrawny kid was as good for taking it out on as anything else. Me getting away with it, for years, was obviously awful for the general student public, and indication that something in the way things are run was massively screwed up, but it honestly wasn't any good for me either. I was still just as pissed off as ever, and my attitude sucked. And I was so busy messing with other people, and then napping to regain my strength for the next attack, that my grades were shit-awful."
There was a snort from Artie behind the camera.
"Shut it, Abrams. You know they're improving. Anyway, you really want to help your own kids out? Don't let them be assholes."
The video's Finn hung his head, obviously frustrated at Puck's wording. But Lauren found herself thinking they were convincing, even if neither one of them was particularly eloquent. They were obviously real. And everyone watching could see that, clear as day.
Artie's voice thanked them for contributing and then the footage faded out, the soft background music drifting way. The lighting changed in the auditorium as the screen rose back into the rafters of the stage, and there was a loaded moment of pause and processing in the room. Rachel walked back out into the quiet and approached the mic again, quickly wrapping up on the video before moving on with the more statistical information. As she listened, Lauren felt for sure they were going to win this thing. They had to; their cause was too important, their case too strong.
Rachel continued on through the content of their message boards, presenting the data of activity and participation like a business executive, then reading the selection of posts with genuine heartbreak on her face, her tone one of clear empathy. She rattled off the examples from other schools, and the various academic and athletic successes those schools enjoyed, matter-of-factly. Then Lauren caught her let out a slow breath before diving into her finale.
"As this portion of the meeting concludes and you discuss all that has been brought up this evening, I'd like to again thank you all for hearing us out and for putting in due consideration on this matter. I plead for you to remember that a quality environment, especially a successful school, needs variety. It needs athletes AND artists; it needs academics and musicians and comedians, too. It needs those who still have no idea where they fit or who they are, and are just trying everything to figure it out. But it does NOT need victims. It should NOT have victims. But whether or not this school will continue to, is up to you. Thank you."
With the tiniest of smiles and the most miniscule of nods, Rachel turned and walked again off stage.
There was again a pregnant pause, a contemplative hesitation… then the dam broke. And Lauren was out of her chair in an instant, barely registering the people who stood just as abruptly around her, the sound of their applause bouncing off the walls, swelling in the auditorium's careful acoustics. When she finally did think to take a look back, the present students were all on their feet, every one of them, as Figgins eyed them carefully on his way to the stage to move the meeting along.
Lauren Zizes had always been a glass half-empty kind of girl. Not necessarily a pessimist, but a realist who'd rather not waste time nor energy on hoping things were different, or searching for the silver lining. Sometimes it made her sound negative, but really she just wanted to see things as they truthfully were, flaws and all, so that she could deal with them correctly, and move on. But at this moment, she allowed herself to hope, to believe in the best-case scenario, to think that they had actually been heard and that they would succeed.
Maybe it was naively optimistic, but Berry was bound to rub off on her a little, wasn't she?
!
He couldn't believe it.
The conversation, spiraling out of control, rapidly, before his eyes and ears, was heated and energized and insane.
The things coming out of some of these people's mouths made William Schuester's heart hurt and his head ache.
Had they not been paying attention?
He'd sat, near a few of the glee kids' parents and Emma, and felt so much pride as Rachel addressed the board. She'd been articulate, as always, and incredibly controlled and poised, but she'd also shown herself as both vulnerable and compassionate as she navigated the tales of what it was like at this school, as she pleaded for their assistance. Her large brown eyes were shiny with carefully contained tears, and her voice broke just slightly, as she read aloud a passage that he knew she knew was Artie's, and one that was Mercedes'...and then one of her own.
A simmering anger was apparent when she spoke the words of another post, which Mr. Schue suspected had been entered by Sam, retelling of what he'd seen and heard an unnamed Kurt go through.
And those were just a few instances, in a staggering overflow of torment.
The video, which he had heard much about but had not seen himself before, was intense. And eye-opening, even for him who'd been already aware of the problem. He hated the parts that looked so familiar to him from his own time in the halls, how visibly volatile the general state of things seemed to be. But he especially loathed the clips that drew out sighs and sharp intakes of surprised breath from Emma beside him, at the suffering they had no idea some kids had had to face. How far some had been pushed by their classmates, only to then be trampled on while they were down, their pain ignored, or even enjoyed.
And yet, here he sat, listening to the liveliest debate he'd ever witnessed at a school board meeting. How there were two sides to this issue he couldn't understand. Who were these opposers to protecting children?
His eyes widened as Emma shot out of her seat beside him, her impassioned fury evident and reminding him, for just a second, of her tirade against Figgins last spring, when they thought glee was to be canceled. (His mind quickly moved to the memory as that was the day she'd first mentioned her now husband, but that he'd kissed her desperately anyway, telling her he loved her, telling her that that they were not over. But he couldn't concentrate on that recollection just now; he was too invested in her current speech.)
"You cannot seriously be standing there and suggesting that it isn't "our place" to intervene in "children's squabbles!" We are their parents and teachers. It is not only "our place," it is our duty to protect them, and when your so-called "squabbles" result in children spending years here, in fear for their physical safety, suffering through emotional agony, then if there is something within our power that can be done we are obligated to do it. I am not interested in protecting one child's popularity over another child's safety. And you shouldn't be either. Or you have no place making decisions for the well-being of these students."
Will began clapping furiously along with the spreading wave of audible approval at Emma's argument. He watched her shoulders rise and fall from the exertion of making her point with unwavering conviction. Her eyes were sharp and bright and the father, the opponent, who stood staring at her, seemed to step back a little at the ferocity in her gaze.
Will thought she looked glorious.
"But where is the line drawn?" Will turned his head as a woman he recognized as one the starting basketball players' mother spoke up. "How far do we step in before we're running their lives, keeping them from lessons that only handling their own problems teach them? Taking on a no tolerance policy is a huge insertion into their dealings, it would prevent certain students from learning to stand up for themselves or to handle life's inevitable dramas, things they are going to have to know when they are out in the world without anyone to hold their hands."
"And not taking this seriously teaches certain other students that there aren't often serious consequences for their actions, or that cruelty is allowable so long as they are pretty enough or athletic enough or rich. That's an awful mindset to build up in kids and then unleash on the world! You are afraid of doing so much, of stepping in too far, and so your alternative is to insist we do nothing?"
Will had never heard Belinda Lindsworth, the home economics teacher, speak with anything other than a soft, encouraging tone. He was a little impressed, and shot her a smile of solidarity.
"But every kid has a right to an education, don't they? Even the "mean" ones? The example policies she outlined all have severe responses and disciplinary actions, long-term suspensions and expulsions. I'm not saying we should let children get berated or pushed around, but isn't this approach going to just cause new and different issues?"
Will found himself wishing he could respond, searching quickly for the right words, but heard Coach Beiste cut in instead, her voice unusually soft but sure, her comments clearly concerned and sincere. "These policies only work at other schools because the responsive actions are substantial, because the issue is taken seriously and because the lines drawn are clear. If it's just a slap on the hand, a detention here or there, that's too easy. No one really learns the lesson. Chances are the bullies'll just come back harder, set on revenge even, and continue on the way they'd been going. And without such concrete definitions of what is bullying and when action is to be taken, there is too much room for interpretation, for he-said-she-said or inconsistency in the way each situation is handled. Then the real point of this, the hope for a changed environment, falls through the cracks. I'm still relatively new, but the division I've seen at this school is the worst I've ever witnessed. Every student is entitled to an education, but every person is entitled to decency and basic respect. And there are so many kids here who aren't getting that. Expulsion is a serious threat; one that hopefully would keep most of the bullies from lashing out, but if someone does cross a line and has to leave? There are other schools, and hopefully they'd start off with an improved attitude somewhere else, having learned something. But an innocent student should not have to suffer, here, without any hope. No one should have to leave because they don't feel safe."
Will's eyes found Kurt's profile a little ways across the room and he winced at the memory of his student's departure. He'd wanted to help, even Sue had wanted to help, but their hands had been tied by the people in this room. Without a firm stand on the whole issue, it was too easy for Karofsky to slip by. In the school's disciplinary history, there was no precedent for anything other than allowances. And it was unacceptable.
"William."
His stare broke from Kurt as he heard the principal address him from his place at the mic, where Figgins had been inexpertly trying to moderate the volatile discussion.
"Several of the students have referenced how your glee club has made their own experiences different. Do you have anything to say?"
Will gulped. He wanted to speak up, he wanted to support his kids and change things. But….he'd also never been great with confrontation. His failed marriage made an excellent case-in-point. But he had been wishing since Rachel'd started all this that he'd done more before, to help her and Kurt and the others, and glancing back towards where the entire club was sitting together, united, and staring hopefully at him, he couldn't not try to do something to help them now. He stood, straightening his tie in a way that flashed a memory of Finn before a competition performance into his head and smiled at the thought. He'd been so proud watching the video's segment of Finn and Puck, at how brave it was for them to share that part of themselves, at the memory of the transformation he himself had been so fortunate to witness, and he wanted to be brave too.
He hoped they were right, that glee and something he offered them had helped change them to be better people, but he knew without a doubt those kids and glee had definitely helped make him a better man.
"Well, the issue is school-wide. There are students in every grade, of every type, who are suffering. But, to be honest, I've had to see my glee kids endure some of the worst of it, and it continuously saddens and infuriates me. Each and every one of them is so special, so talented, and they just want to be respected and appreciated for all they have to offer. And this school has denied them of that, time and time again. But, they aren't perfect. I'm certainly not, and our club isn't. And when I first took over last year, all the problems we've heard about tonight, were happening within that choir room, every day, between those 12 kids. But, in the beginning, I tried to distract them from their differences as much as possible with the obvious thing they all had in common: they all loved music. And, it was amazing. You'd see them walk in, full of attitude and drama. The separations clear. The Cheerios sat with the Cheerios. The Jocks, at their sides. The ones who'd been tormented for years by those cheerleaders and athletes eying them warily from the other side of the room. The kids who were used to flying under the radar looking around nervously, apprehensive. But then, the singing would start, and we'd plan out choreography, and the moment would come for them to run through it, and there was suddenly no division at all. They'd dance together and smile at each other and belt their hearts out. And it was genuine. When they were performing, that which they shared trumped everything that had stood in their way before. It was remarkable. And we kept at it, and it started to bleed into the non-singing time as well. Last year, several of them had a lot of hard life stuff going on, way outside of glee, outside of school. And, it became clear that while they may not always like each other, they'd support each other, 100%, through all of it. As the club continued to get harassed from the outside, they bonded over that as well. They started to stand up for each other, whenever they could, even at the expense of further torment."
Will felt something in his throat, and struggled in vain to clear it away, as he saw Mercedes reach along the back of the seats to gently touch Quinn's shoulder; Tina and Brittany wipe at their eyes; Artie nod at him, while Finn smiled encouragingly.
"Last semester, due to extreme and dangerous bullying, and this board's then refusal to take strong action to stop it, one of our own was forced to leave us, transfer schools, out of fear for his own safety. It's been like losing a family member, having him gone. And a few months ago, moved to action largely by her frustration over the reasons for his departure, Rachel began this movement. Since then, especially from all the preparation the club has been putting into the presentation tonight, I've seen them come together even more. The way they treat each other, the way they lean on each other…it's a really special thing that I get to witness five days a week. And I can't help but think, if they were never in a position where they were forced to get along at least a little, they'd maybe never have taken the opportunity to learn to respect each other, to grow to like each other. Yes, this policy would be a big step, a huge change, and nothing about it is subtle. Maybe it's not the only way to make high school hallways peaceful, tolerable. Maybe it's not even the best way. But I think it could work. I've seen it work; when you remove their capacity to tear each other down it's amazing what they can build together."
Will's remarks hung a moment in the air as he awkwardly sat back down. He found that he was shaking slightly, from the intensity with which he spoke, from the fervor with which he believed in what he said, and he wondered for just a moment, as a powerful adrenaline surged through him, if Rachel felt like this whenever she gave one of her impassioned speeches. He quickly looked back to the students he'd been speaking of, so adoringly, to see they all now stood, clapping and looking at him with such grateful expressions. He noticed Rachel now with them too, her eyes shining as she stood close beside an equally tearful Kurt, and she mouthed, "Thank you," before giving him one of her giant smiles. He returned it, though shakily, with everything he had.
He didn't look away from them even as he felt Emma's hand take hold of his own and give it a gentle squeeze.
As the applause died down a little, he heard Figgins' voice announce it was time to put the issue to a vote. He was eager to get to the results, but yet he couldn't help but think that no matter the outcome, no show choir victory could ever make him nearly as proud as he already was of his kids.
!
It was pandemonium. Sam didn't know how else to describe it. A clash of countless limbs and cries and madness. There was so much noise it was near impossible to make out any specific sounds (save the failing pleas of one Principal Figgins, crackling over the speakers, asking for restored order).
Yet one thing was distinguishable, totally apparent despite all the insanity; one thing he felt and saw and knew, clearly and distinctly.
Relief.
He was pretty sure most everyone in the room felt it, too. Certainly all the assembled students.
But none more so than those he was himself being pulled in by, those who were practically tackling him, as they nearly trampled each other in the forming of an over-sized group hug,
His first thought when the ruling was announced (with a passing vote of 90%), in favor of their proposed anti-bullying policy, was that she did it.
His second thought was that they kinda all did, too.
His maybe fifteenth thought (or whatever number he was on now) was that he'd really like to celebrate by kissing his girlfriend, but the little glimpse of familiar blonde at the center of the people-pile, which the entire glee club was currently engaged in, was pressed tightly to a head of shiny brown hair and he knew he couldn't pull her away (even if he managed to get his arm free from Mercedes' grasp) until she had finished having her moment with Rachel.
He'd always adored Quinn, practically from the very first moment he met her. Even though she'd blown him off repeatedly, been unapologetically shallow, even intentionally cruel. (Hell, she'd even professed a need for torturing the girl she now clung too, an attitude that pretty much contradicted his very nature of unimposing friendliness.) Yet…he'd seen something else, felt something more, when he'd literally started drowning in those eyes one afternoon in the science lab. There were layers and layers to the captivating Ms. Fabray, and while they weren't all perfect, Sam was pretty enamored with the total package they created.
But, now, seeing her overjoyed that this had worked, that Rachel had succeeded and things were set to change? He realized he loved her so much more in this moment than he'd ever thought possible at the age of 17. On some level, he supposed he had Rachel to thank for that, but it was also largely to Quinn's own credit. At some point, somewhere in this battle they'd all been fighting, she'd not necessarily changed, but certainly grown. She'd willfully allowed a part of herself she'd long kept hidden, secret, to be exposed (on occasion), and he wondered if she had any idea how much more beautiful it had made her.
Eyes catching slight shuffling motions, they broke his love-sick reverie and he noticed Quinn pull back from Rachel finally, head turning with a searching gaze. He moved his own head down a fraction to see her more fully from beneath Mike's arm (that was reaching across their gleembrace to fist bump with Finn). She turned further and he was finally able to catch her eye and offer a small smile, and he saw her lips pulls wide into a gorgeous grin in return. She whispered something to Rachel, but without taking her eyes from his, before slipping her head down and somehow, gracefully, magically, managing to extract herself from the center of it all and pull him a little away.
"Hey."
Seeing her up close he noticed her eyes were a little glassy with tears, but sparkling also from the unrestrained joy dancing in them. He was accustomed to picking out the emotions in those eyes, but it was rare that she showed them so freely. And he'd already felt a little breathless from the adrenaline of it all, but she stole the rest of it away with ease. It took a moment before he could get a word out. "Hey."
"This is amazing. Insane… but amazing, right?"
Sam nodded.
"I'm just so proud of her."
"Well, I'm so proud of you."
He chuckled a little at her quirked questioning brow, but she was smiling.
"I didn't do anything except try to be less of a bitch."
He rolled his eyes at her, but had to admit that wasn't entirely untrue, even if she was selling herself short.
"You did more than that, and you know it. The t-shirts, for one thing."
"I was at Hobby Lobby for my art class supplies anyway. The iron-on letters were right there."
"You convinced Finn and Puck to play nice long enough to record their segment."
"I merely told them to stop being morons before they ruined everything."
Sam laughed with exasperation. "Would you stop being so modest. It's not very Quinn-like and it's freaking me out." He laughed harder when that earned him a playful slap on the arm. "Rachel did great, amazing, and I'm proud of her too. But she didn't do it alone and you know as well as me that she'd be the first to admit that. And, for someone who used to really hate her, you…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been very supportive. I am, after all, pretty fond of that bossy little nutjob now." She pursed her lips and shook her head a little, though her fondness was evident.
"Seriously, Quinn. You had nothing to gain from any of this. You haven't been slushied since you got back on the squad, you may not be the most revered queen of the halls like you were before, but you're still pretty close to the top. Yet, you kinda put that on the line to stick up for the rest of the club, for Rachel and Kurt and Artie. And of all the reasons I have to be proud that you're my girlfriend? This one might be my favorite."
He leaned forward and pressed a soft but lingering kiss on her lips, and when he pulled (somewhat begrudgingly) away, he found the corners of her lips lifted into a soft smile.
But slowly, it fell and her expression was suddenly solemn, if not a little sad. "I had always thought the only way I'd ever be happy was when I had it all, perched on my high school throne, with a quarterback at my side, and the rest of the school fearful and adoring at my feet."
Her voice is low, but despite the roar surrounding them, he makes her words out easily. He's just so focused on her, and whatever she has to say that has that barely-seen vulnerability shining through, that the rest of the room, maybe the whole world, disappears for a moment. "I spent years doing whatever I thought it'd take to get there. Making so many people miserable, making myself miserable, making her miserable, chasing that illusion. When everything fell to pieces? She of all people was one of the few who stood by me. And yet I still hated her." She laughed a little bitterly, obviously frustrated with her past self, and Sam rubbed her arm lightly, sympathetically, with his fingertips. "Until she wrote that damn letter."
She took a deep breath and when her smile returned he thought she was maybe glowing a little. "Now… I'm finally actually happy, Sam. And sure, I'm still a pretty blonde cheerleader and a shoe-in for prom court, but I know that has absolutely nothing to do with it. I'm happy because of you, and because of glee. And because of Rachel. Because she had seen me at my absolute worst, and still didn't hate me, and showed me that having friends you can say that about? Is worth a whole lot more than being popular. I didn't really put anything on the line, Sam. Or at least not anything I wasn't completely willing to lose."
He beamed at her before wrapping her tightly in his arms, squeezing, before leaning down a little to press his lips against her forehead, barely seeing the continued celebration around them. When she pulled back just slightly to look up at him, her smile took on a mischievous turn.
"Not that I'll complain about still getting that tiara when Prom rolls around."
He just pulled her further into his side, arm settled around her slender shoulder as they now shifted in unison and walked the few steps back towards their friends who'd finally separated themselves and appeared to all be getting ready to leave.
Puck turned to him just as Quinn went to grab her jacket. "We're all heading to grab a bite at Breadstix, on the Mr. Berries. You and Q in?"
"Of course."
"Cool, 'cause I think Crazy'd bawl her eyes out if anyone skipped out." Puck rolled his eyes, but there was so much affection in his voice Sam didn't know why he bothered to pretend he was at all put out by Rachel's dramatics.
After slapping their hands together in the "bro-pack" handshake Artie'd started a few weeks back between the glee guys, Puck started up the aisle towards the auditorium's exit, before pausing to look back at Sam, a hesitant expression on his face.
"Oh, and can, uh, you also tell Q thanks for me? She'll know what for."
"For berating your ass into cooperating with Finn for the video? Sure, I'll tell her."
Sam laughed as Puck snorted in frustration before muttering "damn meddling, over-chatty broads," under his breath.
Shaking his head and shrugging, Sam just offered a smile. Yeah, Quinn could be one of those he guessed, but again, he loved her. Flaws and all.
!
Brittany S. Pierce stood at her place at one end of the large table in Breadstix's party room, smiling down at Artie to her lef- no, right? To her side. Before hitting her fork against her cup a few times to gain everyone else's attention. "I'd like to suppose some toast!"
She smiled brightly as a few people chuckled, including her favorite Mr. Berry (the shorter one who always bought her favorite cookies for when she came over) who shot her an encouraging nod, even though she wasn't sure why what she said was funny.
She'd planned out what she wanted to tell them on the car ride over from the school building, but now that she was looking down the long table at everyone's faces (all twelve other gleeks, Rachel's dads, Kurt's father and Finn's mom, and Mr. Schuester), each one smiling, or smirking, or grinning, at her, looking so happy, she was too excited to be there with them all to remember her exact words anymore. So she guessed she'd simply have to wing it.
"I think most everyone here deserves their hands, because of all the work they put in and stuff. Especially my man and LZ, because that video made me cry all six times I watched it. And Cedes and Tines, Sam-he-am and Mikey-MC, for making posters and then letting me hang them up and make phone calls, because it was really cool that so many kids were there tonight and I think it was great we helped make that happen. And definitely Q and Tana, too, because Rachie told me the t-shirts we all wore made her feel really good when she saw them and like she could do it, and we already knew that she could, but I think it was probably important that she knew it too, before she had to go out there all by herself in front of everyone." Brittany paused when she noticed a blush spread a long Rachel's cheeks, but she plowed on. "Also, Finn and Puck, because they didn't kill each other. And Kurt, because we've all missed him a bunch and we want him to come back if he wants to, and now he can safely, and he really gives the greatest hugs."
She started clapping and after a small pause, everyone else joined in too. There were some high fives and pats on the back and congratulatory murmuring before Brittany called for attention again.
"But most importantly, I think we should give toast to Rachel, because she's the bravest person I know, and one of the nicest. She has never made me feel stupid and she forgave me for being mean before, and she always tells me I can sing good, not just dance good, and she lets me hang out at her house a lot and I like it there because it's always fun and happy and comfortable, and if I could bring my cat over I think it'd be my favorite place in the world. I think it's really awesome that our school won't be so mean and scary any more, and I think we're all really lucky that Rachel's our friend...so, to Rachel!"
Brittany giggled as Artie shouted, "Preach!" and Lauren, "Holla!"
Everyone clapped as Rachel stood and made her way to the top of the table, pulling Brittany into a tight hug.
"I'm sorry there's not any actual toast, but Artie said that part is just an expression anyway?"
Brittany grinned as her explanation made Rachel hug her tighter with a light laugh, before pulling away and wiping at her eyes.
As the brunette made her way back to her chair Brittany took her own seat, leaning in towards Artie. "Did I do okay?"
She blushed at the sweet kiss her boyfriend placed on her lips as he whispered, "You did perfect."
Scooting her chair even closer to his to comfortably rest her head on his shoulder, she looked down the table at all of her friends and she felt so giddy; it was like bubbles in her throat or being tickled on the inside. She'd never been so surrounded by people she cared about so much before.
And even if it was just an expression, Brittany figured she should maybe bring some toast to Rachel for breakfast in the morning, just in case. So Rachie would know beyond any doubt that she was appreciated.