Kurt Hummel stood backstage behind the curtain, taking deep breaths and trying to calm the butterflies currently stirring up a tornado in his stomach. He thought he was going to be sick.
He could hear the clear, strong voice of Mercedes Jones demanding R-E-S-P-E-C-T, and it added more fear to the lump in his throat. He began to second-guess himself. Am I actually going to do this?
A beat went by, a beat of indecision. I shouldn't do this. It was a silly idea. I thought I could fit in somewhere, but I don't know how important that really is. I'm okay on my own. Right. Right? Am I? He immediately remembered some of the thoughts he had earlier in the hallway outside the counselor's office and shuddered. Maybe I'm not. Am I really going to do this?
He reminded himself that he had to. He could hear his dad's voice in his head, telling him that he wanted him to join a club. The request had come out as a do-this-or-else command, but Kurt had grown to know his father well enough since his mother's death to understand that his dad was looking out for him as best he could. He loved him, no matter how gruff he sounded or misunderstood Kurt felt at times. Kurt loved his dad, too, and appreciated his concern.
It did little to help the butterflies, though. Am I ready for this? I've never sung in front of other people before. What if they make fun of me? What if I sound bad? What if I can't hit that high note? Why didn't I pick a different song? Should I go a little more Top 40?
Then his thoughts shifted gears, moving to the future. He loved watching reality TV, and he had been on a kick recently, watching cast reunions and interviews. Will I make friends like that? he wondered. Will there be people I remember fondly, want to see at class reunions? Will I find someone who actually wants to be friends, who sees me for who I am? The thought Who knows I'm gay? flashed through his head, too, but he shoved that backward. Better to not be too hopeful, he told himself.
Just then, he heard Mercedes sing her final note. Then, there was the sound of Mr. Schuster's voice, saying something to her.
He took another deep breath in through his mouth and closed his eyes, letting it out ever so slowly through his nose. Center yourself. Focus. You can do this. Maybe it will even be fun.
He opened his eyes just as Mercedes walked by him, and he made himself give her a smile, however unconvincing. Then, he heard Mr. Schuster call out for the next person, and he took one last deep breath before he squared his shoulders and headed out on the stage. I just have to try. If I don't like it, I don't have to join. This doesn't have to define my high school career.
The next thing he knew, he was standing on the "X" in the middle of the stage. His voice came out stronger than he expected when he said, "Hello. I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'll be singing Mr. Cellophane."