"Finn, this is Spanish I. You're in the wrong class," Mr. Schuester frowned, running his pen down his list of names for third period.

"I know, but that's what my schedule says," Finn argued, nodding awkwardly as the tiny freshmen sitting in tables surrounding him eyed him in confusion.

"Did you ever think to maybe get that fixed?" his teacher raised on eyebrow.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal, really."

"You really should have gotten this fixed yesterday Finn, at registration." he sighed, scribbling out a hall pass for him. "Go see Ms. Pillsbury."

"No!" Finn blurted, a little too loudly. "I mean, I suck at Spanish. I think taking it again will be good for me and..." he stopped as he saw Mr. Schue's eyes go towards the ceiling in frustration. Grabbing his backpack off the floor, he ambled towards the door and out into the hallway.

The last few weeks of summer had dragged by, especially in comparison to the first few months, and Emma had been glad to return back to school. She was already feeling a bit tired and flustered, having kids with scheduling errors in and out of her office all morning, but the business was better than the alternative of giving her mind too much time to wander. She heard a hesitant knock on her door, and without looking up, flipping through a stack of papers, she answered. "Come in."

He stopped in front of her desk, coughing awkwardly as he dropped the crumpled copy of his schedule on her desk. "I need a class changed," he mumbled, looking down at his shoes.

She looked up, recognizing the voice immediately, her breath catching as her eyes fell on him. She licked her lips, unable to speak for a moment as she smoothed out his schedule. "Of course," she muttered, her eyes darting from the paper to his own eyes. "What, um, what class you need me to change?"

"Spanish," he answered, fighting the urge to take a step back and sit down and fall into old habits.

She nodded, glancing down at the sheet. "You need it switched Spanish IV?" she clarified, feeling uneasy as she tried not to look at him.

"No, definitely no. For my sake and Mr. Schue's I think we should avoid that."

"So you want to drop it?" she asked. "Because I can't put you anywhere else but Spanish IV without you repeating.

"Yeah it's fine I've got enough credits that I can use a study hall or something," he frowned, feeling a jab of hurt from the lack of emotion in her words. It was as if someone had hit the rewind button on everything.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, biting her lip a little, immediately regretting her decision to catch his gaze. "We can, you know, always look at other electives during that period if you'd like."

"Well you can look, but I'm pretty sure Cosmetology is the only elective third period," he joked as he sat down, "and believe it or not that's just really not one of my talents."

Her lips curved into an involuntary smile, her heart fluttering a little as the she recalled how things used to be, feeling a little melancholy. "So how was the rest of your summer?" she dared to ask.

"The rest of my summer...is over," he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "And that's really all that matters. So can you change it?"

Her throat tightened. She nodded, turning to her computer and printing him off a fixed copy. "Be sure to stop down if you need anything else," she said quietly as she handed the paper to him.

Finn nodded, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed the tiny flower pot he had given her sitting on the windowsill. "So...your summer was good, and everything?"

Her stomach dropped a little as she reached to straighten at stack of papers on her desk. "It was, um...it was fine," she told him, leaving it at that.

And just as he was thinking that something seemed off about her appearance, Finn's eyes froze on her left hand. He opened his mouth to say he should be getting back to class (not that he had a class to get back to anymore), and nothing came out.

She swallowed, his sudden hesitance making her uneasy. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Finn?" she muttered quietly.

He shook his head as he eased up out of the chair, tucking his schedule in his back pocket. "I guess not. Have a nice year," he mumbled as he pushed open the glass door, feeling more confused than usual.

XXXXXX

School had only been in session for a week, but Emma had quickly fallen back into her normal schedule, though she found herself staying later most evenings, her empty condo no longer inviting. She felt lonely, and she had felt her chest tighten when she admitted how much she missed Finn's consistent visits, trying in vain to push any memory of the boy out of her mind when the her ringing phone startled her.

She picked up the phone, answering it, her voice a little tired. "Emma Pillsbury, guidance, how can I help you?" she spoke her automatic greeting.

"Yes, Mrs. Pillsbury, this is Principal Figgins. I have two parents here who would like to talk to you about their son. I am going to send them down if you are not currently occupied," he informed her.

"Of course," Emma answered, hanging up her phone as she waited.

"I feel like we're just giving up," Carole Hummel sighed as they stopped briefly at the 'Guidance' sign, following the brown arrow that pointed down the hallway. "He's my son and I'm just going to ask some stranger who doesn't even know him to fix this?"

"We only know what he tells us," Burt reminded her, his voice echoing off the empty hallway as he took off his cap, folding it and tucking it into his back pocket. "Who even knows the junk he deals with during the day? I think it's worth a shot," he shrugged, stopping in front of the glass office and tapping lightly on the door.

Emma looked up, her stomach dropping as she recognized the couple immediately, fidgeting a little as she waved them in. "Hi, um..." she answered, motioning for them to take a seat. "How can I help you?"

"Uh, hi Mrs..." Burt began, looking back towards the name plate hanging outside the door for assistance as he held the door open for his wife. "Pillsbury-Howell, is it? I'm Burt Hummel. This is my wife Carole," he motioned as they both took a seat.

Her cheeks turned red as she looked down at her feet stammering a little. "Um, just Ms. Pillsbury is fine," she coughed, moving on. "I, you know, assume you're here to talk about Finn. Because Kurt no longer attends this school so of course you'd be here to talk about Finn. Because that would, um, only make sense..." she bit her lip, stopping herself mid-ramble.

"Well, actually I was thinking about enrolling. You know it's never too late to get an education," Burt joked.

"Stop that," Carole interjected, swatting at her husband a little as she smiled sadly at Emma.

"Yes, it's about Finn. But we want you know that he doesn't know we're here. And that what we want to talk to you about just stays in this room," she spoke gravely.

"Of course," Emma nodded at the pair, suddenly feeling a little uneasy, panicking a little as the thought of the postcard and hall passes she had found up in Finn's room, wondering if his parents had stumbled upon these items-or even worse, that Finn had mentioned something to them. "Everything we talk about will stay strictly between us."

"Well, you've probably noticed how he's been acting lately..." Carole began.

"Honey, there are hundreds of kids in this school," Burt interrupted, "and Finn's a good kid. They probably haven't said two words to each other. Do you know Finn? Tall?" he raised his hand in the air to illustrate, looking for a sign of recognition from Emma. "Runs into things a lot?"

She hoped her uneasiness was not too noticeable. She answered, coughing as she found her voice. "Yes, I know Finn. Not well, or anything. But, you know, I've seen him around..." she trailed off.

"Okay good, well let me back things up for a second," Burt nodded, leaning forward on his elbows. "He's a great kid. I consider him my own ya know. And he was doing great this summer. I mean he gets a job, he stops hanging out with those thugs who pick on Kurt," he counted on his fingers as his wife smiled encouragingly at him, "everything's going great. Then he starts coming home with this goofy look on his face. That's when I knew there was trouble."

"Stop that. She was a sweet girl for the most part," Carole corrected him, squeezing her purse in her lap.

Emma felt ill and a little hot, but she forced herself to breathe, trying her best not to think about summer. "Is he not handling the break up well?" she asking innocently.

"That's the thing," Carole frowned. "He doesn't talk about it. He said it was a waste of time and he seemed okay at first. And then he just...oh I don't know," she choked, reaching in her purse from a tissue. "I'm sorry, I told myself I wouldn't do this."

"He just stopped everything," Burt picked up. He quits his job, quits helping me out on the weekends at the shop. Schuester calls us, tells us he stopped showing up for summer practices..."

"Rehearsals," his wife corrected him as she dabbed the corner of her eye. "Summer rehearsals."

Emma frowned, immediately feeling guilty, remembering her and Finn's strained goodbye. "Yeah, it sounds like he's, you know, not handling the break up well. Dating an older girl and dealing with that disappointment of rejection isn't always easy on a kid. She reached for her mug of pens, straitening the writing utensils as she nervously rambled.

"You know I told him that," Burt sighed. "I told him seeing someone older wasn't worth the heartache. Not that a kid will ever listen."

"He told you?" Carole squinted in confusion as she looked back at Emma. "He told you about her? How do you know she was older?"

"No," she answered immediately, realizing her mistake, panicking as she scrambled to fix it. "I mean yes. He's been in here a few times, and he mentioned her a little. Kind of just implied that she was older. I just, you know, assumed." She stopped for a breath, nervously plucking at the brooch on her cardigan.

"Really?" Carole smiled hopefully. "He did? Oh that is so good, I've been trying to talk to him for weeks and he just shuts the door in my face. What did he say?"

"Well, that has to stay between me and Finn. He has a right to privacy when talking to me, even when it comes to his parents," she explained, feeling a little better as Mrs. Hummel bought her lie. "But you know, we're talking things through. You guys are handling this the right way, by showing your concern, and I'm sure Finn will return to his old self in no time if you continue to be encouraging." She smiled.

"Look," Burt frowned, putting out a hand to silence her. "I know you mean well and all, and believe me, I am grateful that you're helping the kid out. But can I ask you a question? Do you have kids Mrs. Pillsbury?"

Emma shook her head no, looking down at her feet, and then back to Mr. Hummel's eyes, a little unsure where he was going with his remark.

"Okay, well when my kid doesn't have the will to get out of bed in the morning for an entire month, I can't just sit around and wait for him to come around."

"Honey," Carole interjected. "She understands that."

"I know," Burt stood, pacing a little behind his chair. "But I just wanna find that spoiled little twerp, and tell her what's right. Tell her my son is the best thing that could have happened to her and that's it. End of story," he sliced through the air with his hand to punctuate the end of his sentence as he flopped down into his chair in frustration.

"We're obviously still very concerned," Carole frowned, reaching over to squeeze her husband's hand.

"I understand that," Emma sympathized, letting out a sigh. "I'm worried about him, too," she told them genuinely, the guilt tugging deeper at her gut. "And I'll do all I can on my end," she found herself promising. "I'll see if Finn is up for making our appointments more regular, you know, to see if talking more can help pull him out of this funk."

"Thank you," Carole smiled. "I think that would really help. This year is so important for his future and I'd hate to see him just throw it away."

"Exactly," Burt added. "We're not letting him do that. Mrs. Pillsbury you just need to find out what he needs and give it to him. Can you do that?"

Her mind automatically flashed to the dream she had worked so hard to repress, gulping a little as she forced a smile, reassuring Mr. Hummel. "Of course. Finn is a great kid. I'll do whatever I can." Her voice was feeble as she made the promise.

"Please, please, don't hesitate to call if there's any way we can help," Carole added, standing from her chair. "Oh, look honey," she pointed at the windowsill. "She has one of those little violets like the one Finn got me for my birthday."

She was quick to usher them out of her office, muttering the appropriate goodbyes accompanied by a reassuring smile, feeling a little weak as she closed the door behind them, burying her face in her hands in frustration as she sat back down at her desk.