Shelby's Range Rover sped effortlessly down the wet street, the salt and water splashing up onto the sides as she made her way to McKinley. The frantic rhythm of the windshield wiper matched the rate of the pounding in her chest that's been happening since she listened to the three voicemails that Will Schuester left on her cell phone during rehearsal.
She slowed down her speed as she entered the school zone and pulled into the long driveway at the front of building, not at all caring if she was violating any parking restrictions. She turned the car off and sat in silence for a moment listening to the cadence of the raindrops drumming on the roof. She had calmed down considerably on the ride over, but she was still thoroughly confused about what happened. And if there's one thing that Shelby disliked the most, it's not knowing what was going on with her child.
Sighing, the mother gathered her things, got out of the car, and firmly slammed the door behind her. She wrapped her trench coat close to her body and briskly made her way to the building hoping to escape the quickly falling rain.
She crashed through the front doors with a determined purpose and began to make her way across the school towards McKinley's choir room. Once she arrived, she peered in through the small window on the door and watched Will speaking heatedly to Kurt, Noah, Santana, Quinn, and she assumed, Rachel as well, whose frame was obstructed by the choir teacher.
Deciding to wait to let her presence be known, she walked to the wall opposite the choir room doors and leaned against it before taking out her phone and texting the fellow coach. She waited a few minutes, tapping the seconds away with her stilettos against the tiled floor. When Will opened the door a beat later, she uncrossed her arms and raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"Hi Shelby, thanks for coming," the man greeted with a weary smile. "I'm just at a loss of what to do. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but the kids have closed ranks and no one will fess up."
"We'll get it sorted out," Shelby assured. "But can we talk about it in a few minutes? Do you mind bringing Rachel out here? I just want to make sure she's alright first. Please?"
Picking up on the worry laced in the mother's voice, Will nodded his agreement. "Of course. But I think I should warn you, she hasn't changed. I've been trying to get them to explain but no one's budging."
"Okay?" Shelby said, ignoring the millions of questions popping up in her head. "That's fine. Just ask her to come out, please. And the other kids let their parents know that they're staying late?"
"I canceled rehearsal for everyone else, so we have them for a little more than an hour," Will answered.
"Perfect. That's plenty of time to get to the bottom of this."
As soon as Rachel walked out, Shelby instantly clenched her jaw to keep it from plummeting to the ground. To say she was unprepared for the sight of her kid covered in an unknown red and blue gooey substance would be an understatement. She grimaced taking in the sticky residue donned all over the girl's skin and clothes. "Rachel—what, are you okay?"
"Mom, listen, I can explain," Rachel began, taking a half step backwards and lifting her hands up in defense. "It's not my fault. I was handling it. We were just taking care of it but everything's okay now—or I think it will be. Just please don't be mad, please—"
"Hey," Shelby interrupted, shaking her head worriedly. She erased the distance between them and gently swiped away the hair stuck to the sides of her daughter's face. "That's not what I asked, kid. Are you okay?" she said quietly, scanning the teenager from head-to-toe.
Apart from the sticky substance drenched all over her, at least Rachel looked physically unharmed. It was emotionally that the mother was concerned about.
"Y-you're not mad?" Rachel stammered, immensely caught off-guard by the older woman's reaction.
"I—" Shelby paused, searching her mind for the right words. "I don't have enough information to be mad. All I see right now in front of me is you, my kid, covered in something. And the only thing that matters to me at this moment is if you are alright, Rach. Are you?"
Rachel sighed and hung her head, unable to take the concern in the woman's eyes. She wanted to be honest, but she wasn't ready yet for her mother to know the truth. Rachel didn't want her to know the truth, at least for as long as she can help it. "Yes. I'm okay," she said, rather unconvincingly.
Shelby pursed her lips and nodded, detesting the fact that her daughter was lying to her face right now. "Okay, Rach. We can talk about it later. Here," she offered a tote bag. "Mr. Schue told me to bring you a change of clothes. Please get cleaned up, changed, and then come back to the choir room after you are done."
"No, it's okay," Rachel declined, shaking her head in objection. "I already have my extra clothes to change into in my locker..."
Shelby's eyebrow quirked up as Rachel's voice trailed off. "Extra clothes?"
"Nothing!" Rachel flashed a sheepish smile and snatched the bag from the woman's hands, walking away before Shelby could formulate a response. "Thanks, mom. I'll be right back!"
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at her daughter's far too quick evasive maneuvers, Shelby watched the girl's retreating form for a few seconds before releasing a sigh in frustration.
Her daughter's been lying to her. For days. And now she was going to find out why.
The moment Shelby entered the choir room, a bright flash of lightning streaked across the window and the roar of thunder boomed the room into silence. The fluorescent lights flickered momentarily and the four teenagers sitting in the front row whipped their heads to find Shelby standing at the door.
"Holy shit!" Quinn jumped in her seat, extremely rattled by Shelby's unexpected appearance.
"Watch the language, Lucy Quinn," Shelby chided while she focused on shedding her still-damp jacket and hanging it on the hook at the back of the door.
"Lucy!?" Santana questioned, turning to her best friend in shock. "Your first name is Lucy?"
"Hey," Puck said, craning his head to look over Shelby's shoulder. "Where did Berry go?"
"One hundred percent guarantee that Coach Corcoran killed her," Santana whispered to no one in particular.
"And she's going to kill us all too if you don't shut up San," Quinn warned through gritted teeth.
Kurt nodded furiously. "I second that."
"I can hear everything you're saying," Shelby said while she crossed the room, stopping right outside of Will's office to address the students. "Rachel is in the bathroom. She will be joining you shortly. And I suggest you all get your story straight because if there is one thing that I absolutely do not tolerate… it's lying."
Slamming the door shut behind her, Shelby found Will wrapping up a phone call. Attempting to give him some privacy, she turned her back and studied the cramped space, deeming the room not even half the size of her office at Carmel.
Once she heard him hang up, she sat down in the chair opposite of the choir teacher, her eyes scanning the clutter all over his desk before landing on Will's incomprehensible expression.
"Do your Vocal Adrenaline kids ever get picked on at school?"
"Maybe only by me," Shelby chuckled jokingly.
"No. That's not what I meant," Will said, scratching the back of his neck in contemplation. "I mean, do they ever get bullied by other students. Maybe by the jocks?"
"No," Shelby said with total conviction. "Not that I've seen. My kids are national champions. They rule that school. Besides, we have a zero-tolerance policy on bullying. It's not really an issue at Carmel."
"Well that's not the case here," Will sighed, noticing the woman's smile falter. "The less popular kids here like Artie, Kurt, Tina… and Rachel…get bullied almost regularly. Sometimes they even get slushied."
"Slushied?" Shelby questioned hotly.
Will paused and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, bracing himself for the mother's reaction. "The hockey and football players, sometimes the Cheerios, like to, um, assert their popularity over the other kids by throwing slushies at them. There's this unspoken hierarchy around here and it's how they like to keep things in order."
"By throwing drinks at someone's face? That's sick," Shelby said, not quite believing what she was hearing. "And this happens to Rachel?"
"To Rachel, to Kurt, to the other glee kids pretty often. It's gotten so bad that I think they have to keep toiletries and extra clothes in their lockers."
As the pieces began to come together, Shelby instantly felt nauseous. Her daughter was being bullied? That badly bullied? And she had no idea about it? Sure, she had an inkling that there was something suspect going on with Rachel at school, but this goes far beyond what she could've imagined. This was beyond the red lines. This was a thinly veiled form of physical violence that was flying under the radar.
"For how long?" Shelby asked, fire in her voice.
Will leaned back in his seat. The anger emanating off of the woman wasn't completely unexpected but he still found himself at a loss for words. The tall, beautiful star almost appeared majestic in her fury.
"I-I don't know, for as long as I've been here, I guess," he stammered.
"And how long has this been happening to Rachel?"
"Months?"
"Months?" Shelby breathed. She was so disturbed. "This has been going on for months and no one's done anything about it? You're telling me that not a single teacher here has done anything to stop this? What is the principal doing about this? What the hell are you doing about this, Will? Those kids are your responsibility. Rachel, when she's in these halls, is your responsibility."
The lack of response from the teacher ignited a burning rage in her chest. Nearly suffocating from her anger, she stood up abruptly, the legs of the chair screeching loudly against the floor, and forced herself to breathe. Will felt about two inches tall as he looked up guiltily at Shelby scowling at him with her hands on her hips. His stomach knotted watching the mother's eyes narrow and her eyebrows crook precariously.
He swallowed audibly. "I know Shelby. Believe me, I know. And believe me when I say that I feel gutted over this. I know I'm part of the problem. It just happens so often that I'm getting immune to it, and I know that's not right. But I've tried. I've tried to talk to the other teachers about this and we do what we can. I've tried talking to Figgins about this but he—he doesn't take me seriously. He doesn't take us, the glee club, seriously. We're not like you and VA. We don't have the resources, the finances, or the support. Our entire existence depends on a man who couldn't care less about a music or arts education, so I have to choose my battles with Figgins, because these kids need the glee club. Figgins can take all of that away. He's already threatening to have us disbanded if we don't win at Regionals."
Shelby steadied her breath as she took in the sincere concern etched all over the man's face. She felt sick over the entire situation. She peered through the window right in time to catch her daughter crossing the room to join her friends. How could she not have known that all this was happening?
Sighing, she felt some of the anger drain out of her and she softened her entire stance. "Why didn't she tell me?"
"I don't know," Will shook his head sympathetically. "Rachel came to me last week and told me the slushie-ing got worse for her. I promise you Shelby, I encouraged her to tell you or her dads about this and she assured me she had. I'm sorry I should've followed up again but I thought she just needed to vent about it."
Shelby felt like she just got a sucker punch to her solar plexus at that remark. Was she dropping the ball that much that her kid was actively choosing to talk to her glee coach over her own mother? "So what happened today?" She asked, pushing away the rejection on her mind.
"That I'm not sure," Will said, sweeping a hand through his hair. It's been a long day. And the end seemed nowhere near in sight. "All I know is that I found Rachel covered in slushie and those five out there yelling over each other outside of the boys' locker room at the end of the day, and when I asked them all to explain they all clammed up. But from what I've been picking up on and observing all week, if I had to guess, is that they cooked up some sort of way to get back at some of the football players. There's one in particular I know that likes to torment the glee kids. I don't know, though. I'm not certain. They're not talking to me. But I can't just let it go. I don't want it to reach a boiling point."
Shelby nodded her head diffidently, recalling her daughter's pleas to "handle it herself." She wouldn't put it past her kid to whip up a revenge plan. "They might not be talking, but one of them will."
The glee coach only looked at the woman questioningly.
"A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, Will."
"Okay… so if we talk to them individually, one of them is bound to fess up?"
"Exactly," Shelby said, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
Will chuckled lightly at the excited gleam in Shelby's eyes. "Can I ask you for a favor though? Do you mind talking to the kids by yourself? I just got a call from one of my colleagues asking if I can close up the resource center for her. The storm blew out the power at her house, so she had to run out. I know I don't have the right to ask you for help after I—"
"I'll take care of it," Shelby cut him off. "Go. I can handle it. We can talk about everything else later."
Will moved instantaneously to follow orders. He collected his things and began to make his way out but paused at the door. "Who are you going to talk to first?"
Shelby looked out at her persons of interests in the next room and took a moment to strategize. "Kurt," she decided quickly. "Can you ask him to come in here on your way out?"
"Sure," he agreed, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He sure as heck would not be want to be on the receiving end of a Shelby Corcoran interrogation. The last ten minutes have been effective enough at fraying his nerves. "Good luck, I'll be back soon."
Kurt stared down at his hands, obviously attempting to avoid Shelby's inquiring gaze. He sighed deeply, extremely displeased at the current situation he was in. All he's wanted, ever since his dad took him to see a theater production of Annie when he was six, was to be in the company of Broadway royalty. He wanted facetime with the greats. And Shelby Corcoran was not just great, she was a legend. But instead of being thrilled of the one-on-one time with the former-Broadway star, all he wanted to do in this particular moment was run as far away as possible. Because not only is he possibly in trouble with the Shelby Corcoran, now his idol is also going to find out how pathetic he actually is. Fantastic.
"Kurt, will you please look at me?" Shelby asked kindly.
Kurt brought his head up, unnerved by the woman's gentle tone. "Yes, sorry C-Coach, uh, Miss, Corcoran."
"Kurt, you've slept over at my house. We've had dinners together. I drive you home all the time," Shelby pointed out in amusement. "I think it's okay for you to call me Shelby."
The teenager flushed red and smiled nervously. "Sorry… Shelby."
"It's okay," Shelby said, unclasping her hands and lounging back in Will's leather swivel chair in a relaxed manner. "How are you doing? I haven't seen you around as much since Rach has been grounded. Sorry about that."
"Good?" Kurt replied, thoroughly confused by the pleasantries. He knows that he wasn't summoned in here for small talk.
"Good. How's your dad doing?"
"He's doing well." He shifted in his seat and twiddled with the hem of his brand new printed Alexander McQueen button down. "Thank you for the recipe book, by the way. It's been really helpful."
"Of course. I don't know if Rachel's mentioned it, but her grandpa, my dad, was pretty sick too a while back. And we had to help him adjust to a lot of lifestyle changes including eating a healthier, well-balanced diet. My mom and I found a lot of good recipes in that book that I think are delicious but also heart-healthy for your dad."
Kurt nodded appreciatively. "Yeah, we tried a couple of them last week and I think he liked that it didn't taste like he was just eating cardboard."
"Good," Shelby laughed. "I'm glad. Kurt, can I ask you something? And I'd really appreciate it if you were honest with me."
"Uh—okay, sure."
"Does your dad know? About the bullying?"
The way the teenager's face blanched told Shelby all she needed to know.
"I think that he should, Kurt. I think your dad would want to know what's happening."
Kurt released a heavy sigh, drooping his shoulders. "I know. I don't like keeping things from him, but he's just got a lot going on right now. He's still recovering and I don't want to stress him out any more than I have to. I don't want to bother him. But it's okay, I can handle it anyway."
Shelby nodded, completely understanding the boy's train of thought. It was the logic she employed when she was in the thick of it with her dad. But it took years, distance from that situation, and a lot of hindsight to change her perspective on that. "I understand Kurt. I do. But I don't think that this is something that we can just sweep under the rug. You're getting hurt, Kurt. That's not okay. Not even in the slightest is that okay, and I don't want you or Rachel or anyone else to ever think that's okay. None of you deserve this. You have a right to feel safe at school, and you definitely do not deserve to handle this on your own. It's our responsibility, mine, and your dad, and your teachers to end this. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Kurt said quietly. He ran his palms against his lap and picked off the linen off his slim black chinos. "Are you going to tell my dad then?"
"No," Shelby replied. "You are. I think he should hear from it you. Rachel didn't tell me, and I—I would have liked to have learned about it from her."
"She was only looking out for me, you know," Kurt blurted out. "Dave Karofsky only really started picking on her after she stood up for me last fall…" The teenager gasped dramatically once he realized what he divulged and placed his hand over his mouth.
Shelby jumped instantly at that piece of information. She sat upright and leaned forward over the desk. "Dave Karofsky? He's the one that's been slushie-ing you guys?"
"I—uh—maybe?" Kurt shrugged. "Please don't make me tell you! Puck might kill me. Santana scares me. And I promised Rachel I wouldn't say anything. And also, after what happened earlier, I really don't think Karofsky's going to be bothering Rachel and me anymore… Please don't make me confess because I'm certain Santana will end me and I have so much to live for. The Nordstrom semi-annual sale is this weekend!"
Shelby groaned and dropped her head into her hands. As much as she wanted to prod the boy for more information, she usually doesn't like to prey on the weak. It's not as satisfying. And Kurt's already been through enough.
"Fine," she grumbled. "But this conversation is not over, young man. Keeping this from us wasn't the right thing to do, so I would really love for you to talk to your dad this weekend. Because if you don't, I will, Kurt. I promise you that."
"Okay, I will," he agreed. "I'm sorry, Shelby."
"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "You're thoughtful, smart, talented, not to mention fabulously well-dressed, Kurt. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise. Rachel's lucky, because I would have loved to have a friend like you when I was in high school. And I'm sorry that not everybody appreciates how great you are. But your dad, Mr. Schue, and I will take care of it. We will handle it. And everything will be alright."
Kurt broke out into a wide grin in response because for the first time, in a very long time, he found himself actually believing her.
Puck's not going to lie. Objectively, for a mom, Shelby Corcoran was pretty hot. But he couldn't let that distract him because she was also his newly sworn arch-nemesis. Ever since she ruined his epic New Year's Eve party. And then made him tell his mother about it, who then proceeded to place babysitting duties on him indefinitely.
Slouching down in the seat across from Shelby, he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the fun-killer. There was no way in hell he was going to talk. He did what he had to do.
Sure, he's bullied dweebs like Kurt in the past and maybe he's thrown a band geek or two in a dumpster, but that was before. That was before joining the glee club. Before he got to know Kurt and Rachel and Artie and everyone else he used to make fun of. Before the New Directions changed everything for him. Now he had a reason not to bully. Because one, all the singing and dancing actually kept him from pretty preoccupied from getting into trouble and two, he hated seeing what Karofsky and Azimio did to his friends. Also because it wasn't right the way he noticed how Kurt would brace himself before he walked out of the classroom and into the hallways, so that's why when Rachel and Quinn asked him for help, he agreed. He simply did what he had to do.
"Noah, please sit up," Shelby ordered.
"I'm not going to say anything," Puck said, straightening up in his seat. "Karofsky's an ass. He thinks he rules the school, and he needed to be taken down a peg."
"And how exactly did you all manage to do that?"
"We didn't hurt anyone or like do anything illegal, if that's what you're concerned about," Puck said. "Berry wouldn't let us. She's kind of a stickler for the rules and a total square like that… no offense. I didn't even really do anything, honestly. Just sorta fanned the flames. Karofsky basically burned himself."
Shelby lifted an eyebrow, impatience slowly grating on her nerves. "Care to explain any of that?"
"Nah," Puck shrugged but instantly regretted it the moment the word fell from his lips. He subconsciously scooted the chair a couple inches back as if that would protect him from the furious green eyes shooting daggers his way.
"Okay, so listen," Puck said, blushing deep red at how his voice slightly trembled. "I play football right."
Shelby sighed. "What does football have to do with any of this?"
"Sort of everything," Puck began. "Because let's just say you were drafted to a team that wasn't your first pick. You know, you don't like the players, you hate the way they play the game, you even think the quarterback is full of crap. But it's your team. You don't quit. You don't talk to the press. You don't bitch to the coach. You just go out there every Sunday. And you make the blocks. And you take the hits. And you play to win. You show up, and you suit up, and you play. Cause it's your freakin' team."
"Hi Santana, please take a seat," Shelby instructed when the cheerleader entered the room. Needing to stretch her legs, she was standing and leaning against the front of Will's desk.
"No thank you," Santana said, crossing her arms as she faced Shelby. "I won't be in here long."
The older woman shook her head and sucked in a sharp breath in a mixture of annoyance and frustration. She doesn't know what kind of operation Will was running here, but her Vocal Adrenaline kids would never. She mimicked Santana, folded her arms across her chest, and regarded the teenager in a stern manner. Two can play at this game.
As the seconds turned into minutes, Santana began to fidget anxiously while the silence in the room intensified. The torturous way Shelby was looking at her made her skin clammy and blood hot. She couldn't believe the position she was in. She didn't even want to join glee club. And she sure as hell didn't want to like it. Or the people in it. Especially not Rachel Berry. But somehow she had. For better or for worse, she was now a show choir nerd and that meant helping protect what they built and taking down asshats like Karofsky in the process. And she wasn't going to apologize for that. Or get in trouble for that. No way, no sir.
Steeling herself against the woman's piercing glare, Santana pushed out a loaded breath between her lips and scuffed the tiled floor with her sneaker. She can admit. Shelby was pretty damn intimidating. And the quiet between them was even more disconcerting, but she was not going to be the one to break it. That's for sure.
With a shaky hand, Quinn twisted the doorknob, eased herself into the office, and shut the door behind her with a soft click. She remained rooted to her spot until Shelby gestured to the seat in front of her. She padded over begrudgingly and sank down.
"Shelby, I told Rachel to tell you. I swear I did."
The woman lifted an impatient hand and waited for the girl to cease her squirming. "Mr. Schuester said that sometimes some of the Cheerios slushie the other kids? Have you ever done it?"
Quinn raked her teeth against her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. She could lie, but she also knew full-well that Shelby would know that she wasn't being honest. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. "Okay, yes. But only once! When I first started on the team and the seniors made me do it."
"Lucy Quinn!" Shelby admonished, her voice dripping with disappointment. "Nobody can make you do anything, you knew what you were doing and you should be ashamed. I am so—Q, you know better. You were raised better than that. And after what you went through during grade school, you'd think that you'd know better than to treat others that way."
"I know," Quinn dropped her head in shame and only looked up warily when the woman didn't respond a few seconds later. "I'm sorry. I do regret it, but you should also know then how hard I've worked to be on the Cheerios. And how hard I've worked to be on the other side of all of that. I'm popular now, so I had to do it. This is just how it is and always will be around here, Shelby. But I look out for Rachel. I promise. That's why I got San and Puck to help."
Shelby shook her head in staunch protest. "No. I refuse to accept that 'that's just how it is.' You shouldn't have to look out for Rachel in the first place because she and Kurt and everyone else who's getting bullied around here should be able to come to school and feel safe and not have to worry about getting drinks thrown in their faces or being shoved against lockers every day. That's absolutely not how it should be, Quinn, and you know that."
Quinn only nodded. She's aware that what was happening at McKinley wasn't right. But she's starting to realize more and more that high school was just a survival of the fittest. There was only so much she could do if some people weren't cut out for it. But she also knew surviving also meant being smart and creative and resourceful. It meant learning how to solve problems when no one else was interested in helping.
"What did you guys do?" Shelby asked rather calmly. "I know that the five of you came up with some way to get back at this Dave Karofsky. And if you tell me, I can work with you. I can talk to Mr. Schuester. At this point, I'm not even trying to punish any of you. Because, truthfully, as far as I'm concerned, that kid probably deserved what he got. But you have to talk to me Quinn, so I can help fix this if I need to."
"I can't tell you," the teenager said decisively. If Puck can somehow come out of a Shelby Shakedown alive, she can also keep her mouth shut. "And we don't need help, I think it's fine now."
"That's what I figured you'd say," Shelby said with a poker face. "Well then, if you can't tell me, then I think I know someone that you can't refuse to speak to."
In record speed, Quinn's pupils flared, heart rate increased, and jaw slackened knowing exactly who Shelby was talking about. "Oh my god, you can't."
"What do you think your mom's doing right now, Q? She's probably home by now, right? It's Friday, which means that she's probably getting ready for dinner with my parents. Think we should give her a call?"
"Shelby, no! Please don't tell her. She'll kill me. Like actually murder me if she finds out about the slushie-ing and the… everything else. And I just got ungrounded recently for the sneaking out! Please, this is so not fair!"
Stamping down a smirk, Shelby merely shrugged her shoulders. "Then tell me what happened between you all and Dave Karofsky this week."
"I can't—I don't want to," Quinn refused, her voice full of sheer panic. She mustered all the strength she could gather deep down inside of her. She was not going to be the one to break. Santana would not let her live this down.
"Fine," Shelby responded, hitting the speaker button on the phone on the desk. "Then let's fill your mother in on what's been going on at school. I think I still have your house number memorized but please correct me if I'm wrong."
Shelby paused and stared at Quinn, noting the nervous energy exuding from the teen. She adjusted the phone so that it was placed between them and slowly moved her fingers to punch in the area code, four… one… nine… each beep of the numbers being dialed permeated the thick silence. "One last chance, Quinn," Shelby halted, her perfectly manicured finger hovering over the dial pad.
Quinn melted into her seat and prayed right then that the ground would just open up now and swallow her whole. "Shelby…"
"Wrong answer," the woman replied then rapidly dialed the rest of the number.
The jarring sound of the line ringing caused Quinn's panic to automatically skyrocket through the roof. She jumped up, startling the older woman in the process, and slammed down the end call button. "Okay fine! I'll talk! Just please don't tell my mom!"
Shelby couldn't help the triumphant expression that formed on her face. Thank goodness for Judy Fabray. "I promise to consider not telling your mom. Depending on what you tell me. Now please explain."
The teenager groaned. "I can't really explain it in a way that won't make you glare at me."
"Quinn!"
"Okay, fine," she relented, mentally cringing because she knew that Puck and Santana were never going to let her forget this. "Ugh, I'll tell you."
A few minutes later, Shelby rested her elbows on the desk, hung her head and gently massaged her temples in an attempt to alleviate a pending headache. She inhaled until her lungs burned and exhaled slowly before lifting her gaze to meet Quinn's.
Reclining back in her seat a moment later, she nodded slowly in understanding as she let Quinn's rambling and long-winded confession marinate in her head. "Okay, that was a lot of information all at once, so let's go over this one more time. You all thought that you needed to 'put Karofsky in his place' by 'exposing' him?"
"Right," Quinn confirmed. "He's kind of terrible to everyone, so we all just wanted to get teachers and other students on our side."
"So talk me through this again please—Kurt?"
"Is in a lot of classes with him, and Karofsky always steals his homework. This week, we had an essay due in English and a lab report due in Bio. Kurt gave him another version of the paper that had like plagiarized analysis from SparkNotes for him to turn in and put in all the wrong data in the lab report. Karfosky's lazy and he never checked, so he got in trouble for cheating and then Mrs. Hunter began to realize that he's been copying answers this entire time and she told the other teachers."
"And Puck?"
"Already had beef with Karofsky for always making fun of him and Finn for joining glee club. But Karofsky honestly makes fun of everyone, including the hockey players. And the football and the hockey team don't like each other, so Puck told Rick Nelson, who's on the hockey team, all the smack that Karofsky's been talking about him to stir drama. Rick confronted him about it and they got into a fight in the parking lot on Tuesday. Karofsky lost and was humiliated. Also Coach Beiste had to stop the fight and suspended him from winter practices."
"And then you and Santana got your cheerleading coach involved?"
"Okay, this was San's idea. But you absolutely cannot tell Coach because she may actually murder us or kick us off the team. I don't think Coach exactly likes the bullying that goes on but she also just sort of looks the other way. Santana thought that the only way to get her involved is if she was directly affected. So yesterday, I distracted Coach and walked her over to the cafeteria. At the same time, Santana was with Karofsky and she told him that Rachel was walking towards their direction and she encouraged him to slushie her as she came around the corner. Except it wasn't Rachel, it was Coach who he slushied instead. San just played it off like she had no idea and Coach was actually enraged. She told us that she was going to get rid of the slushie machine."
"Rachel's role in all of this?"
"It was her idea to take down Karofsky from different vantage points so that it would stick. And to target him because he's really the only one who likes to torment the glee club. Azimio and the other guys only follow his lead. And Rachel's also been obsessing over this idea that she thinks there's some sort of reason why he's being so horrible to Kurt, so she's been doing 'deep background' or whatever Puck calls it. Anyway, he confronted her about everything that's been happening to him after the final bell earlier and he slushied her...again... and I heard Rachel lost it and followed him into the boys' locker room. I guess Kurt ran in there to help her, but I don't really know what happened in there cause San, Puck, and I were coming from Spanish and we got there too late."
"So why did Mr. Schue say he found all five of you fighting earlier?"
"Because Rachel wouldn't tell us what happened with them and Karofsky. All she said was that he said he'd leave them alone. And Santana laid into her about it and Puck and I were just telling San to let it go. I don't know, we all kind of just panicked. Honestly, I don't really care if Rach found out any dirt on him. He's irrelevant to me as long as he quits picking on everyone."
"So let me get this straight, essentially, you all found a way to get back at this kid by not exactly doing anything directly to him, but by just sort of letting everyone else handle it?"
"Yes, exactly," Quinn nodded. "So, technically, we can't even really get in trouble because it's not like we were the ones who cheated or got into a fight or slushied Coach Sylvester. We might've set him up, but Karofsky did everything else to himself by making all the wrong choices."
"Okay," Shelby said.
"Okay? That's all you have to say?"
"Okay," the woman repeated. Shelby simply stared at Quinn while the corners of lips curled involuntarily. Fighting down her amusement with everything she had, her cheeks swelled momentarily with pressure before she burst out into an abrupt and raucous fit of laughter.
"So..." Quinn chuckled apprehensively at Shelby's entirely unexpected reaction. "You're not going to tell my mom, right?"
After speaking with Will and sending the rest of the kids home, Shelby waited outside of the choir room once again as Rachel went off to collect the rest of her belongings from her locker.
She fidgeted with the umbrella in her hand, tapping it against the wall as she deliberated how to move forward from here. After getting all the information she needed from Quinn, she opted to just speak to her daughter at home realizing that there was going to be a lengthy discussion ahead of them.
And despite the fact that the kids thought that they had "handled" it, she knew that she needed to call attention to and address the bullying issue at McKinley because she refused to send her child to a school where her physical and emotional wellbeing was being threatened. She needed assurance of Rachel's safety, needed the toxic culture to change, and needed accountability from the adults in charge. She wanted someone to answer for the abuse that was being swept under the rug on the daily. In fact, she was going to demand it.
Rachel hesitated as she approached the older woman whose face was hardened in concentration. "Ready to go, mom?" She asked timidly.
"Yup," Shelby blinked and turned her attention to her daughter. "Do you have everything you need for the weekend?"
"Yes," the girl nodded, slightly unhinged by the clipped tone. While she somehow evaded her mother's interrogation, she's aware that she had to answer to the woman soon enough. "Are you dropping me off at home? It's dad's weekend."
"I just called him and I will be taking you to your therapy appointment and then you are sleeping over tonight. You and I have a lot to talk about later."
"Oh," Rachel pursed her lips in a worried frown, hating the clear tension between them at the moment. "Are you mad at me or something?"
Shelby regarded her daughter solemnly and sighed. She was angry. That she knows. She was livid that this was happening. She was infuriated that nobody was doing anything about it. And she was beyond frustrated that she was just finding out about it all now.
"I don't know, Rach. Maybe a little but I just wish that—"
"But why!" Rachel exclaimed in objection, disregarding the fact that she was raising her voice at her mother. "I'm the victim here! I'm the one who's been getting called names and getting slushies thrown in my face for weeks!"
"Exactly!" Shelby couldn't help but yell back, her mounting anger quickly fueled her tongue. "For weeks, Rachel! It's been happening for weeks and you didn't tell me. This could've ended weeks ago, Rachel. I could've helped you. Your dads and I could've fixed this. We would've taken care of it, so I am angry because I just don't understand why you would have rather endured all of that for so long than just come talk to me. And I asked you, Rachel! How many times did I ask you if there was anything going on at school that I needed to be aware of? How many times did you lie to me and say no!?"
Breathless, Shelby's heart hammered inside her chest and immediately twisted in guilt taking in her daughter's big brown eyes glazed with tears. The girl practically looked like she had just slapped her across the face.
"Alright, I'm sorry," Rachel said with a shaky voice, full of hurt. "But you don't have to yell at me."
Shelby shook her head, appalled at herself for lashing out. "I'm sorry Rachel, I'm just frustrated," she ran a hand over her face and forced herself to calm down, drawing in a long, deep breath to settle her emotions. "I didn't mean to. I'm—will you just please just meet me out in the car? I'll be out in a few minutes."
She offered the car keys and umbrella and didn't miss how her daughter had unwittingly taken a step back and was now avoiding eye contact.
"Fine," Rachel said, snatching the objects away from the woman's hands harshly. If her mother was going to be this upset, so was she.
"Rachel—" Shelby reached out and grabbed her arm.
"No. I'm going to the car," she jerked away from the gentle hand and stormed away in a matching flurry of anger and frustration.
After Rachel's frame turned the corner, Shelby blew out an aggravated breath. She allowed herself a moment to regroup and rein in emotions that were undoubtedly getting the better of her. When she felt like she had regained some semblance of calm, she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and strode down the hallway, the heels of her expensive shoes clicking purposively on the way to the Principal's office.
As soon as she was done dealing with Figgins, leaving him with an unbreakable vow that that wasn't their last conversation about the issue, Shelby practically sprinted out to the car as the guilt over her outburst assaulted her conscience.
Running again through the rain, she flung open the door to the Range Rover to the sight of her daughter crying softly in the passenger seat. Shelby eased herself into the car, set her purse behind her, and turned to face the teenager.
"Rach I'm—"
"Did you talk to Principal Figgins?" Rachel asked, punctuating the question with a loud sniffle.
"I did," the mother nodded, loathing that she was the reason for the big tears filling wide, heartbroken eyes.
"Mom please don't make me transfer," the girl pleaded. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I don't want to leave McKinley. I can deal with it. And Karofsky said he's not going to do anything to me anymore. Please don't make me switch schools. Even with the bullying, I'm just getting used to it and I really don't want anything else to change. Please."
"Rachel, you know I can't promise you that," Shelby replied sadly. "Unless your dads and I know without a shred of doubt that you can go to school and be safe and protected, then I can't promise that. But I can promise that I will talk to Principal Figgins again and Mr. Schue and whoever else I need to and find a way to work this out. I am going to try my best to make sure you get to stay, okay?"
It's not what she wanted to hear, but Rachel nodded her agreement. "Okay. Sorry."
"Okay," Shelby echoed. "And I'm sorry too for losing my cool earlier and for yelling at you. I—baby, I just hate the idea of you being hurt like this. It's not okay, Rach. And it infuriates me in a way that I didn't even believe was possible. You don't deserve to put up with that. And I just wish I would have known. I wish you wouldn't have felt like you had to deal with this yourself."
The girl's chin only quivered and tears fell faster in response, and Shelby sighed for what must have been the millionth time that afternoon. She flipped the center console open and pulled out a couple of tissues.
"Hey, it'll be okay, my love, I can promise you that too," Shelby assured, cleaning away the tears spilling down her daughter's cheeks. "Please stop crying, baby. You know I hate seeing you like this. I'm sorry that this is happening. But I swear we're going to fix it. It'll all be okay."
Rachel accepted the Kleenex from her mother's hand and tried to control her labored breathing, taking in sharp, shallow breaths. After the tears began to subside, she sniffled, blew her nose, and used another tissue to wipe the remnants of her breakdown off her face.
"You okay?" Shelby prodded, looking over her daughter with concern.
"I don't know," Rachel admitted. Truthfully, after weeks of burying her feelings about all of this, now that it was all out in the open, her emotions were bashing her against the rocks. "Can we just go, please?"
"Okay," Shelby agreed. Without another thought, she leaned over and drew her daughter in for a hug and pulled away to kiss her forehead. "I love you kid, everything will be alright."
Nodding, Rachel forced herself to give her a small smile and Shelby squeezed her arm reassuringly before turning away to start the car. With another heavy sigh, the mother turned the key in the ignition, flicked on the windshield wipers, and pulled away from the curb to make their way down the water-covered street.
A/N: Sorry. I know it's been a minute, but hope this was worth the wait! Part II of this including more of S and R's reactions to this situation shall be up soonish.
Also wanted to give you guys some insight into where I'm going with EC and for now, I want to see this at least through Regionals (which for the purposes of this story is the end of freshman year for R) and currently we're at the end of January on that timeline, but don't worry! because there's still a million and one things I want to include before we get there.
Thanks so much for all the follows, favorites, and feedback. I appreciate it more than I can express!