Welcome to the Jungle

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Part Two: Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Taking Chances

Lily sets to work drafting a letter to Principal Figgins immediately. Apparently, a school with as many championship teams as McKinley High should have enough funding for a strict anti-bullying policy, and the fact it doesn't already is disgraceful. She gets in touch with other parents, too, and Harry leaves her to it, uninterested in getting involved anymore than he has already.

In his room, he texts Artie. They haven't had much reason or occasion to chat outside of Glee Club meetings, but he asks about the other boys' wellbeing, and receives a succinct thumb's up for the trouble. He also expresses the fact he'd had no idea what the JV team was planning, but he doesn't apologise on their behalf, and neither does he make excuses for their behaviour.

Quite frankly, there is no excuse. .

Artie doesn't reply, and Harry eventually stops expecting one. He distracts himself with his unending homework instead, banters with Leo over Facebook, listens to 'Born For This' on loop in an attempt to subliminally memorise the lyrics. He does his laundry, has a shower and eventually readies himself for bed, and hopes his mothers efforts won't come to nothing.

It will take some time, but eventually, he won't be disappointed.

-!- -#-

Ethan's got a van. He and Cedric are sitting on the step of the open side door, playing Bayside from Cedric's iPod speakers, talking, chuckling, ignoring the fact they need to be in homeroom in ten minutes. It's a little weird, not to see them surrounded by other people, friends and hanger-ons and whoever else, but presumably, Senior Year changes a lot of things about peoples' priorities.

"Hey," Harry greets them. He's just come off a - mercifully energising - training session, courtesy of Coach Beiste, but the thought of an entire day at school is sort of soul-destroying.

Dramatic, maybe, but Harry's not sure he's ever been so tired in his life. Not just because of football practice, but because of school, because of his worry for Leo and, more increasingly, Ursa, for his grandparents and all of his other loved ones back in Britain. Because McKinley High is torturous in it's own way, because school and IGCSE's and extra-curricular activities take up so much of his time and energy, because some days all he wants to do is stay in bed and sleep away all the hours of his life.

His friends return his greeting in kind, exchange fist bumps and grins, and ask what he's been up to. "Nothing much. School."

"Yeah, I hear you, dude," Ethan acknowledges. They've moved passed the Cho thing, thankfully, though Harry hasn't seen much of them. They've all been busy, and Harry's grounded to boot, but Cedric looks about as tired as Harry feels, and word around school is that he hasn't been out much, to parties or whatever.

Ethan's social life, on the other hand, is thriving. Despite - or in spite of - criticism and harassment from their more narrow-minded peers, he's dating one of the juniors on the varsity soccer team, Edward Carmichael, and between them both, they have a lot of friends who have a lot of parties.

"You all right?" Harry asks Cedric. He's not sure why he's only just noticing. "You look…"

"He looks like shit, right?" Ethan interjects, "I've been telling him that for ages. Needs to get some more sleep."

"I'm fine," Cedric ignores Ethan, "Are you?"

Harry shrugs. He's not great - not really - but he's not anything else, either. Just busy, and tired, and ready for the Thanksgiving break. He says as much, and his two friends commiserate.

"Guess we'd better head to class," Ethan says reluctantly. "Can't wait for this shit to be over."

"Nine more months," Cedric encourages him.

"I'm jealous."

Ethan and Cedric both grin, and the three of them banter back and forth on their way into the school building. They split inside though, to lockers and homerooms and whatnot, and Harry eventually reaches his own just in time for the first bell to ring.

It's going to be another long day.

-!- -#-

Rachel and Kate are attempting to teach Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina the choreography they'd come up with for 'Born For This', though they're not having a lot of success. Harry's already learned it - years of dance and martial arts lessons have made him a quick study - but Kurt, Tina, and Mercedes don't have the same background, and they're struggling.

Rachel's impatience doesn't help.

"Look, you guys," Rachel props her hands on her hips, "These steps are not hard. I've been doing them since pre-school."

Harry and Kate roll their eyes simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," Kurt answers snidely, "Did I miss the election for Queen? Because I didn't vote for you."

"They don't need to hear that, Berry," Harry intones dully. As he does so, Finn wheels Artie into the room, and Harry avoids gaping like an idiot by shear will power alone. "Don't rush them; They'll get the hang of it soon enough. And Hummel, your attitude is not fucking necessary. She's just trying to help."

"And also, queens aren't voted in," Kate opines. "It's an inherited title."

"I know what I'm talking about," Rachel confirms. Kate is ignored. "I won my first dance rehearsal when I was three months old."

Kate rolls her eyes so hard Harry's sure she gets a glimpse into another dimension. "Your theatrics aren't necessary, Rachel."

Kurt ignores the debate that picks up between Kate and Rachel, and addresses the pair in the doorway. Specifically, Finn, whom he isn't pleased to see. "This is a closed rehearsal."

"Look," Finn claps his palms against his thighs, "I owe you guys an apology. I never should have quit."

Harry scoffs, and mutters derisively, "You weren't missed."

"I don't want to be the guy that just drives around throwing eggs at people," Finn continues. He doesn't hear Harry, or chooses to ignore him - Harry's not sure which, but neither does he care - and avoids eye contact with everyone.

His apology would probably mean something if he didn't.

"That was you?" Rachel asks. He shrugs, awkwardly, and offers the girl an embarrassed, sheepish smile-grimace thing.

"You and your friends threw pee balloons at me," Kurt accuses him.

"What the fuck?" Harry's surprised to hear it. First Artie, and now this shit? "Jesus Christ."

"I know." Finn, at least, has the decency not to deny it. It's probably the only decency he's got.

"You nailed all my lawn furniture to my roof," Kurt continues.

"I wasn't actually there for that, but I'm really sorry. Look, that isn't who I am, and I'm tired of it."

Harry laughs, a sharp, bitter sound, and all eyes turn to him. Harry's smile is sharp, mirthless and aggressive (as much as such things can be). He addresses Finn. "Really, that's not who you are? Because I could swear you fucked my girlfriend last year."

The ensuing silence is deafening. The others don't bother hiding their surprise - apparently, Kirt's not the only one who'd forgotten - and Harry continues glaring, even as Finn bows his head, unable to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry for that, too."

"What the fuck ever, Hudson," Harry replies with a sneer. Not an acceptance, not forgiveness, not anything, really, and he glances down at his guitar. He's ready for this meeting to be over. "What do you want? Or did you get lost on the way to the locker rooms?""This is what I want to be doing, with you guys. I used to think this was, like, the lamest thing on Earth, and maybe it is, but we're all here for the same reason, 'cause we want to be good at something."

"How long did it take you to come up with that speech?" Harry asks snidely. He's fairly certain he's not here because he wants to be good at something.

"We do need the numbers," Kurt hedges reluctantly.

"I've got ideas, too," Finn adds enthusiastically, "Like, Artie, you play guitar, right? Think you could recruit the Jazz Band?"

"Already done," Kate informs him coolly. "Yesterday afternoon, before your charming friends decided to lock Artie in a porta-loo."

"Oh, cool," Finn acknowledges. He's completely undeterred. "Mercedes, we need new costumes, and they have to be cool. Can you do that?"

Mercedes glances at Kurt, who shrugs. They both turn to Harry, who glances at Kate. Kate looks between Artie and Tina, and Rachel purses her lips between her teeth, conflicted.

"I could," Mercedes hedges, noncommittal.

"And Rachel and Kate, you can do choreography. Tina, what are you good at?"

"I-I-" Tina looks like a deer caught in headlights. Her hands open and close restlessly at her sides, and it's obvious she's not remotely pleased to be put on the spot.

"We'll figure something out for you."

"And what would you bring to the table, Justin Timberlake?" Mercedes asks scornfully. Harry's not sure if it's supposed to be an insult or not.

"I've got the music."

Kate and Harry glance between themselves, and laugh. Kurt smirks, Rachel and Mercedes do too, and even Artie and Tina are smiling, humoured.

"What?" Finn asks, perplexed.

"This isn't a dictatorship, Hudson," Harry informs him.

Finn doesn't look remotely enlightened, and Kurt impatiently explains, "We choose songs as a group. Take it or leave it."

Finn looks confused, but then he shrugs. "Okay. So we choose music as a group. I still want to be here."

There are more glances exchanged. Kate shrugs at Harry, he returns it, and they glance at Kurt. Kurt hesitantly nods his head, and when he looks at his friend, Mercedes does, too. Artie nods, Tina shrugs, and they all glance at Rachel who, like Kurt, offers a hesitant nod.

"You can come back," she informs him, "But one toe out of line, and you're out. We might need the numbers, but that's all we need from you."

It's harsh, but it's true. Finn nods, the rest of them watch him as he approaches the stage, and Rachel rifles through her binder to retrieve another copy of the music for 'Born For This'. None of them are sure if they've made the right decision, but it's done, and unless Finn steps out of line, there's no going back now.

In their own respective ways, the rest of the Glee Club do their best to accept it.

In their own respective ways, they mostly fail.