This isn't a new chapter, just a revised version of what was Chapter 1. More edits afoot, though much less drastic here.
Again, I repeat some of my original opening comments:
The decision to homeschool is one that has consequences that are legal as well as "social." To homeschool Joe in Ohio, his mother (usually the more involved parent) would have to start by notifying her school district's superintendent of her intent to homeschool her son at the beginning of every school year. Then during the year she'd have to preserve samples of Joe's academic work and keep a log of the lesson hours he completed (of which 900 are required per year). Then at the end of the year she'd have to put all that stuff in a binder and hand it to a state-certified or -licensed teacher, who would review it, approve it, and prepare a written narrative of Joe's yearly progress for the school district. Then the district's superintendent would also have to review and approve Joe's work so that he could move forward to the next grade. Plus, he'd have to attend a public or private high school for his final year anyway in order to get a diploma. (I know that that's changed recently, but back in 2011-2012 it was still the case.)
All of which to say, this business of Joe transferring from homeschooling straight to public high school in the middle of the year is getting tossed out the window. In this 'verse, Joe is a senior who has been at McKinley since the beginning of the 2011-2012 school year, or all of Season 3. Oh, and his dad runs a Christian bookstore - I don't see selling Bibles door-to-door providing enough income to support a family.
A slight addition to one of the God Squad members' powers here.
All rights belong to Ryan Murphy and the Glee writers, and may they be cursed with the same headaches that their insanely inconsistent writing gave me. Warning for a little Bible thumper talk.
Joe Hart had, like all the other McKinley High glee club kids, patiently endured the weeks of testing that the hospital subjected him to. As they hadn't been able to find anything immediately dangerous, they'd sent him and the other kids home in time for school to start up again. Naturally, Joe had thought then that everything would die down, and for a time, it seemed to.
If, that is, you didn't count the weird little things.
Like the first day back at school, when he'd gotten into trouble because Mom had come into his room to get him up for school and found his window open. Joe had no idea how this had happened, and of course neither Mom or Dad believed him when he said so.
Or how about that Wednesday when he was drying dishes for Mom, and he could have sworn the forks and knives actually left his his hand and laid themselves in the drawer?
Not to mention the Thursday that he'd got up in the middle of homework to go to the bathroom, only to find when he returned that his history textbook, which he had thought he'd left open, was shut and piled on top of his other books.
But it was at the end of his first week back at school when Mom came in one morning, again to wake him up, and found him floating in the air two feet above his bed. She screamed, which woke Joe up, and when he saw where he was, he screamed too. Dad, who had been on his way out the door, came running upstairs to see what was the matter. He stopped dead, his jaw swinging.
They might well have remained like that for the next quarter of an hour if Dad hadn't almost instantly snapped out of it, marched up to Joe, and plucked him out of the air. The moment he touched Joe, the boy fell down onto the bed, where he lay gaping at his father.
Needless to say, he was late for school.
Later that very day, two of the big hockey jocks slammed Joe into the lockers as they walked past, calling, "Hey, hobo! Find a job yet?" as they went.
Already on edge because of what had happened that morning, Joe suddenly wished with all his might that he could send them sailing into the wall, and see how they liked it. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than both the jocks went flying sideways into the lockers, their heads banging the steel so hard they fell unconscious to the floor.
Joe froze to the spot, nearly screaming with fright, and even as teachers arrived on the scene and began getting help, he couldn't shake the conviction that, somehow, he had done this to the boys. He was lucky that no one had taken notice of him at the moment, for the policy against violence was very strictly enforced and he probably would have been expelled.
He didn't speak to anyone at school, but later at home he tearfully spilled the whole story to his parents. Both Dad and Mom looked troubled, and while they tried to be reassuring Joe didn't miss the fear in their eyes. He had never seen them out of their depth like this before, not even during the times when the store came in danger of going bankrupt, and he couldn't help feeling horribly guilty, even though Mom kept telling him that none of this was his own fault.
Now Joe blessed his near-total friendlessness at school. If he'd been any more popular, or if Mr. Schuester and the other New Directioners weren't in the habit of completely ignoring him, his "incidents" would certainly have been noticed, and he might have found himself in a very difficult place. As it was, he'd been spending each school day expecting to be called suddenly into Principal Figgins' office at any moment for violating the no-violence policy.
And then, that very Sunday when it came time for the sermon, Pastor Russell asked the congregation to open their Bibles to Matthew chapter 25, verse 14. The moment Joe saw the passage about to be read, he nearly fell out of his chair. For the kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, every man according to his several ability . . .
Joe knew the parable like the back of his hand. But that day he read it as if he'd never seen it before, and when he came to the man with the buried talent, he shivered.
Hey, I was scared of what you'd do to me, the man seemed to say. I didn't want to get it wrong, so I played it safe.
And his boss called him wicked and lazy.
God, is this what you're telling me? That You don't actually want me to suppress whatever this is? That You gave this to me?
Pastor Russell's voice broke in on his racing thoughts: "Look, God doesn't reward 'playing it safe.' He doesn't reward laziness or cowardice. He rewards courage, faith, and action, even if you don't always 'get it right'. You have to do what you already know God would have you do. And you've got to trust that if you're not exactly where He wants you to be, if you need to be scooted three degrees to the left, He'll scoot you."
Once they got home from church, the Hart family all looked at each other.
"I don't think that message was a coincidence, Joe," said Dad.
"No kidding!" said Joe. "But what do we do now?"
Mom looked thoughtful. "You've said you feel like you're somehow causing things to move when you're not touching them," she said. "What if that's true? What if you are actually making these things happen?"
Joe bit his lip. "I - I don't do it on purpose," he said unhappily.
"Then maybe that's the problem," suggested Dad. Mom shot him a questioning look, but he took no notice. "Maybe, because you aren't in control of whatever this is, it's acting out on its own."
Joe began to feel as if he'd entered the twilight zone. "But Dad, this is reality! Things like superpowers don't exist!" He looked to his mother for help.
But Mom said, "That's what I would've said, before I witnessed my child hovering in the air, and that was just the beginning."
"Oh," Joe grimaced. "That happened, didn't it?"
"Oh yeah, that happened," said Mom. "And you said you felt like it was you who slammed those hockey kids into the wall. And lately I've watched things literally come to your hand when you decide you want them. I never thought I'd say this, but . . . it seems like the most logical explanation."
The foundations of Joe's world, already wobbling precariously in the wake of the aforementioned incidents (accidents?), began to collapse entirely. "But that would mean that I have powers," he protested weakly. "And that would mean that God gave me powers, and that would mean that He wants me to use them, and that would be weird!"
Dad eyed him. "Pretty much, yeah. Look, this is just as weird for me as it is for you, Joe."
"So test it," ordered Mom.
"Wh- now?" spluttered poor flummoxed Joe.
"Yes, now," said Mom. "Try to make something move."
Joe eyed the pile of Bibles and Sunday School books on the table. He concentrated on the smallest Bible - his own, a black pocket-sized KJV - and tried to will it to move. For a few seconds nothing happened; then suddenly something in Joe's brain shifted, and the Bible wiggled a little. He raised his hand experimentally; the Bible sailed through the air and smacked his palm, bouncing off and falling to the floor.
Dad and Mom looked at each other, and then back at Joe. Feeling like the world as he knew it had completely shattered, Joe snatched his Bible up off the floor and clutched it like a security blanket.
It was Mom who spoke first. "Well, there's your answer, Joe," she said.
Dad seemed to be thinking deeply. "These incidents started happening after the accident right before Christmas, didn't they?"
Joe cast his mind back over all the instances he could remember of things moving seemingly on their own - or, as was now obvious, his accidentally moving things without knowing it - and realized that his father was exactly right. "You mean the accident caused me to get these - powers?" He was still stumbling a bit over the word.
"And if it did," said Mom. "what about all those other children who were in the 'danger zone'? Could something similar have happened to them?"
The next Tuesday, which was the day that the God Squad had their meetings, Joe took stock of the group. It was, as always, only the four of them - himself, Sam, and Quinn with Mercedes at the helm. Quinn fiddled with her rings incessantly and wasn't quite her usual snarky self. Sam was acting weirdly gruff around Mercedes; Mercedes wouldn't so much as look him in the eye. Joe had occasionally noticed similar patterns between those two in previous God Squad meetings and glee practices.
He bit his lip as he looked at them all. Should he speak out? Now that he thought hard about, many of the New Directioners hadn't been quite themselves lately. And they'd all been hit by the blast. If Dad was right, and if Mom was right . . .
He raised his hand, and Mercedes turned to him. "Yes, Joe?"
Here I go. "Have any of you guys noticed weird things happening around you since the accident?" he asked.
Sam eyed him with a strange mixture of curiosity and nervousness. "Define weird."
"Uh, like your window opening randomly during the night, or something isn't where you left it, or things floating out of your hand - yeah, that kinda thing."
He had been mostly expecting - and half hoping - to get raised eyebrows and mocking snickers in response to this. Instead, Mercedes pursed her lips, picked up a pencil, gripped it for a moment, and tossed it into the air.
Upon which it exploded with a little burst of color, making the other three jump with surprise.
"Or like that?" Mercedes asked Joe.
Joe managed a nod. "Yeah, I guess," he croaked. "I, uh, I thought it was just me."
"Definitely not," Quinn confirmed. She pressed her hands to the surface of the table at which she sat, and the entire table quivered and shook. A cracking noise made the others jump again, and Quinn lifted her hands hastily. The shaking stopped. "I've shaken the foundations of my house in my sleep," she said. "My mom is terrified of me, and she doesn't know what to do."
"How come you've kept it hidden when you're at school, then?" asked Mercedes, gaping at the other girl as if she herself hadn't just made a pencil explode like a firecracker.
"I've discovered that the worst episodes are always when I'm upset," returned Quinn evenly. "so I don't let myself get upset in public anymore."
Worry for her and for Mercedes gnawed at Joe, mingled with shame that his head had been so full of his own troubles that he'd entirely missed theirs. "Is that possible?"
"So far it has been," said Quinn matter-of-factly. "I assume you have a reason for asking, Joe. Do you have anything to share?"
Joe held out his hand, and the eraser sitting on the chalkboard shelf sailed into it.
"Lucky you," was all Mercedes said. "At least yours looks harmless."
"Harmless?" Joe put down the eraser. "Do you remember last Friday when the two guys on the hockey team hit their heads on the lockers and had to go to the hospital?"
"Sure, what's that got to do with -"
"Mercedes, that was me!" cried Joe. "Don't you get it? My 'thing' where I move stuff without touching it works on everything - people too! I almost killed those jocks, 'cause I don't know how to control my - okay, I'll say it, my powers!"
"You seriously think we have superpowers," snarked Quinn.
"That's what my parents think, anyway," said Joe heavily, dragging his hands over his dreadlocks. "And it sounds like the craziest thing in the world, but what would you call it?"
"Whoa, stop, back up," said Sam. "Your parents got you believing the superpower shtick?"
"Yeah," sighed Joe. "They're being really Professor Kirke-ish about the whole thing."
"Professor who-ish?" inquired Quinn.
"Never mind," said Joe. Shoulda known better than to make an obscure Narnia reference. "What about you, Sam? Has everything been normal for you, or -"
Sam glanced at the closed door, and began taking off his jacket. "Okay, guys, you gotta trust me here, I'm doing this for a reason," he said as he began to unbutton his plaid shirt. The other three eyed him dubiously (Mercedes rather sternly) as he took off his shirt and then his undershirt.
"Whoa, what's with all the tattoos?" cried Quinn.
Sam's upper chest and arms clear down to just above the wrists were covered with brown-and-white feather designs.
"They're not tattoos," said Sam. "Watch." His arms came down to his sides, and the other three gasped yet again as the "ink" feathers sprang up from his skin and became real feathers. And before they'd had the chance to realize that Sam's body was covered with actual feathers, there was a great flap, and the feathers spread out from his back and shoulders and became huge, eagle-like wings.
Distantly, a part of Joe's brain informed him that underneath the honest-to-goodness wings sprouting from his friend's shoulders, his chest and arms were looked perfectly normal (but as usual very well toned), no tattoos in sight.
It was Quinn who first recovered herself. "So," she remarked dryly. "You can fly. Anything else?"
"Yeah, but I can't do it in a closed room," said Sam, while great wings folded down to hug his upper body, and disappeared into the feather markings that looked like tattoos."I really have to be outside."
"Okay then," Joe pushed. "It's not like school's still in session. C'mon." He made Sam and the two girls bundle into their jackets and hats and scarves and go outside (it was winter).
Sam gritted his teeth. "Stay here," he said to the others, and walked a fair distance out from the building. "You asked for this, spider head," he called out to Joe.
And then, a gust of wind tore across the distance between Sam and the school building, so powerful that it nearly swept Joe and Quinn and Mercedes off their feet. They staggered against the wall behind them, pushing at it for support while the wind howled angrily around them, pushing them to the ground. And for one tiny shameful moment, Joe thought they were going to die.
But after a few minutes the wind died away as suddenly as it had started (it had not been a windy day to begin with), and Sam marched back over to them.
"You asked," he said in a low voice. "Now you know." And he walked past them and back into the school.
Quinn, Mercedes, and Joe all looked at each other, and without saying a word all made the same decision. They went after Sam, and found him sitting in the empty classroom where they'd been having their meeting. He was staring glumly at nothing.
"Do your parents know?" asked Mercedes gently.
"Oh yeah, they know," said Sam grimly. "The markings started randomly appearing after the accident, and when my family came to see me, well -" he shrugged. "The doctors have a hunch that the accident might have had something to do with the wings. They don't know about the other thing."
Quinn looked at him sharply. "The accident - that's what the doctor said to my mom too. I mean, I don't recall having an incident before then."
"Neither do I," said Mercedes.
Looks like Dad and Mom were onto something. "Guys," said Joe seriously. "Everybody in glee club was in the 'danger zone' that night, and everybody went to the hospital. If the accident really caused these powers -"
"Oh, crap," Sam put a hand over his mouth. "You're saying you think everybody in glee club had something like this happen to them?"
"Well, there's only one way to find out," said Quinn resolutely. "We have to ask them."
"Gee, that's gonna be fun," said Sam glumly.
A note on the timing: a Glee timeline on Tumblr (which may not be entirely true to the show, but is synced with a real calendar, so I'm using it) says that the kids went back to school on January 3rd, a Tuesday. That timeline also states that Will proposed to Emma on January 19th, a Thursday just over two weeks later. This God Squad meeting takes on Tuesday January 10th, during the kids' second week back at school and nine days before the Awesome Proposal.