AN Was going to skip right to New York in this chapter, but I need to give these kids their graduation. Please remember, that while this is a Kurt/Will fic, plot is very important to me and part of the reason I'm writing this. It may seem like a filler chapter at the beginning, but trust me when I say that it's important for the rest of the story. . . especially towards the end . . .
For once, the auditorium was nearly completely silent upon the entrance of Principal Figgans. There was no random tittering, offhanded rude comments, or offensive shouts – merely the sound of slight shuffling and sniffles. He paused at his podium, almost as if he expected something to happen or to be said. Nothing came, and he smiled.
"You all made it." he began. "This is wonderful, and I am very pleased." He paused and pulled the microphone from its place on the podium, a brief feedback shrill causing some of the graduates, all garbed in their red and white McKinley gowns and caps, to cover their ears and grimace.
"These have not been easy years for all of you." he said as he walked to center stage. "Some of your friends have not made it. For the one hundred and sixty three that have, I congratulate you. You are the future . . ." A few scattered gagging sounds were heard and Figgans rolled his eyes, but smirked.
"I am not good at speeches." He said when things had quieted down again. "Typically at McKinley graduations, we have a speech from our valedictorian and salutatorian. This year will be a little different." He paused.
"If you were to look at your programs, you will see that this year's salutatorian and valedictorian have not been listed. We made no announcements of who they were, nor were they photographed for the yearbook. They declined, and suggested an alternative for spending the money that would have been otherwise used for their page in this year's Thunderclap. After much deliberation with these students, and a rather large amount of after school planning with them and the small group that would be involved in this years ceremony, I will speak for everyone when I say how lucky McKinley is to have such great people in their midst. They have planned an excellent surprise for all of you, on their own as the adults they have now become. By coin flip, the decision was made to have the salutatorian deliver our speech this year." He smiled. "Without further ado, I present to you the top two members of this year's class, Mr. Artie Abrams and Mr. Kurt Hummel!"
Murmuring for a moments and then bursting into applause, the individuals in the audience rose to their feet as the two said students made their way on stage. Kurt took to the podium while Artie positioned himself next to it as they waited for the crowd to quiet.
"You can all sit down – this is probably the least amazing entrance I've made on this stage." Kurt began, smirking. "The person who designed caps and gowns should probably be shot; It does absolutely nothing for the figure." After the few giggles died down, Kurt exhaled heavily.
"I'm going to be frank with this speech, as I've never been one to mince words or dumb down anything for anyone. I'm not about to start now. My time at McKinley has held some of the worst and some of the best memories of my life; There are some things I'm going to miss terribly and some things that I can not wait to never have to deal with again." He sighed.
"Congratulations, class. You've all graduated." Pausing for effect and leveling a serious look at the crowd, he continued.
"Now that high school's over, you are all Lima losers." Amidst the horrified gasps of the faculty and the uproar of indignant cries from the students, Kurt nodded to someone backstage and the curtain began to rise, revealing the entirety of New Directions sitting in a setup not unlike the appearance of the high schools choir room. The young man smirked as things began to quiet down, animosity coming from the audience in waves.
"You don't like hearing that, do you? Especially since it's your graduation. Truth is hard. The fact of the matter is, now that you're out of high school, no one is going to care that you were a Cheerio, a football player, a freak, or a geek." He turned and pointed behind him at the Glee members sitting on stage, all dressed in their normal clothing, sitting quietly – some holding back laughs.
"Take a good look at those people sitting there. Really. Take a good, hard look at the people you spent most of your high school time bullying because they were at the bottom of the social barrel."
"You are all represented somewhere in there. Cheerleaders, jocks, and nerds, goths and preps, black, white, Hispanic, and Asian, Christian, Jewish, agnostics, and atheists . . . teen moms, homosexuals, handi-capable, rich, poor, punks, and goodie-two-shoes."
"The differences you have are what's going to make you as individuals. The effort you put into everything you do from now on is what is going to help you rise above being just another Lima loser. The playing field is now leveled. The person sitting next to you in a few years may be your boss, your employee, your grocer, your favorite movie star or singer, the guy in front of you getting coffee, or the bum drinking stolen cough medicine at the bus stop."
"Social status means next to nothing now. I realize that sounds a little trite and maybe even a tad hypocritical coming from me, considering it's fairly well known that I have aspirations of grandeur on Broadway – a goal that would put me near the top of social status or celebrity. The fact of the matter is, I don't dance or sing to get attention or to be looked up to – it started that way when I was younger, when I felt, like many of you, that to be important you had to be admired . . . but I've come to the realization that the reason I love Broadway and musicals and singing and dancing isn't so much the attention I get on stage, but the feeling of freedom and the joy that comes from just being able to let go and be me."
"I'm leaving Lima in less than a week. My bags are packed; everything is in order, and frankly, I can't wait to get out of here. I refuse to let my life be mediocre; I refuse to be a Lima loser. I really hope that I hit home with this little speech of mine, because we're all saying goodbye now – we're all leaving friends, family, and mentors . . . people we love and hate, some of whom we will never see again."
"Most of you, I will never run into again; some of you probably don't care. For the people that do love me, I can't wait to show you how fabulous I can be. Personally, I know some extraordinary people, and it breaks my heart to say goodbye . . . but sometimes goodbye is a second chance. Thanks."
The cheer that erupted then was deafening as in a nearly simultaneous motion everyone in the auditorium rose to their feet and clapped, whooped, and whistled. Kurt handed the mic to Artie, who smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
"We have one last performance for you all from New Directions . . ." Artie began as the audience simmered down. "We'd not only like to dedicate this song to our class, but to our director, Mr. William Schuester. . ." Pointing the microphone at the Glee club, they shouted.
"Thank you Mr. Schue!" Will, who at this point had already been tearing up, was now all out crying, his hand over his mouth covering his ear to ear grin. Kurt smiled at him and grabbed the mic from Artie.
"Knock it off already Schuester, you're going to give yourself wrinkles." Will chuckled and shook his head and Kurt threw the microphone to Finn. Artie made his way to the rest of the group and strapped on a guitar and Kurt made his way to the piano.
My eyes are open wide, by the way, I made it through the day . . .
I watched the world outside,by the way, I'm leaving out today. . .
I just saw Hallie's Comet, she waved, said "Why you always running in place?"
"Even the man in the moon disappears, somewhere in the stratosphere."
Tell my mother, tell my father, I've done the best I can . . .
to make them realize, this is my life, I hope they understand . . .
I'm not angry, I'm just saying. . .
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.
Please don't cry one tear for me, I'm not afraid, of what I have to say . . .
This is my one and only voice, so listen close . . .It's only for today . . .
I just saw Hallie's Comet, she waved, said "Why you always running in place?"
"Even the man in the moon disappears, somewhere in the stratosphere."
Tell my mother, tell my father, I've done the best I can . . .
to make them realize, this is my life, I hope they understand . . .
I'm not angry, I'm just saying. . .
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.
Here is my chance
This is my chance
Tell my mother, tell my father, I've done the best I can . . .
to make them realize, this is my life, I hope they understand . . .
I'm not angry, I'm just saying. . .
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance.
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance
The auditorium erupted as New Directions faded out, tears falling, people screaming, and mortar boards flying. The Glee club looked to each other, grinning wide, and took a bow.
"Why didn't you tell me you made salutatorian? I mean, really, Kurt, you're my best friend!" Kurt smiled and shook his head at Mercedes.
"I could hardly spoil the whole surprise for the Glee club, plus I didn't want to make too big a deal about it. Artie only beat me out by half a point, too." He sighed.
Mercedes looked at her friend incredulously.
"You didn't want to make a big deal . . . are you for real? That speech was . . . Legendary. Capitol L."
"I know." The young woman shook her head and slugged him in the arm.
"Modest you are not Kurt Hummel. So . . . you said you wanted to talk about something?" He shrugged.
"A few things, actually . . . for one . . ." This time, he punched her playfully in the arm. "When I fainted yesterday, you totally should have waited a little longer to wake me up . . . I mean, what if Mr. Schue thought I needed CPR or something . . ."
Mercedes positively cracked up.
"Oh my God, Kurt, you're too much. Oh, you should of seen him though, he was totally freaked . . . nearly chewed off my god damn head for laughing at you." Kurt cocked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"Really."
"Mmm hmm. Got the whole 'you shouldn't laugh at your friends when they're hurt' line. And, get this, he called me Miss. Jones. . . all attitude and pissed off . . . I could have sworn he called me a bitch too, but I don't think he realized he actually said it . . ." At this Kurt laughed.
"Well you are. I could have scratched up my shoes falling like that. Honestly, Mercedes, you have no concern at all . . ." She rolled her eyes.
"Come on, princess, you know I love you."
"Male, remember?" He laughed shaking his head. "I love you too, Say-Dees." She smiled.
"So was there anything . . ."
"Alright, so get this . . ." Kurt interrupted, "After we all got out of the auditorium yesterday, I went back up to the choir room . . . I'd forgotten that shirt that got slushied, right?" she nodded and he continued. "So, I spot the Les Mis music book on top of the piano, and my over emotional insanity takes over and decides to sing out 'On my Own.' . . . well, guess who shows up right as I'm drying my eyes . . ."
"Oh, hell no."
"Hell yes . . . first words out of his mouth, and I quote . . . 'You put Rachel Berry to shame.'" Mercedes eyes widened.
"He didn't . . . Kurt, that was the song she used to try out for Glee Club . . ." he laughed.
"Yeah, I know, she wouldn't shut up about her song choice, as usual . . . but really Mercedes, that wasn't the best part." She blinked a few times.
"He didn't try to . . . take advantage of you did he?" Kurt blushed crimson, then sighed.
"I wish, but no . . . he did, however, give me his business card and told me to start calling him Will." Mercedes jaw would have hit the floor had it been detachable.
"Do you think . . . do you think he knows? Like, that you . . . like him?" Kurt shook his head sadly.
"I don't know, and it really doesn't matter . . ." At Mercedes' surprised look, Kurt just shrugged and pulled Will's business card out of his pocket. "It doesn't matter because I made a decision . . ." he gulped. It wouldn't do to cry when he was trying to be confident.
Then he ripped the card in half, then quarters, and dropped it in the trash. Mercedes eyes widened and she grabbed his wrist.
"Why the hell did you do that for?" Kurt shook his head, pulled her hand off of him, and turned around. She was not going to see him be upset about this.
"I want to get on Broadway by myself. He's helped me enough in that department . . . and I need to do this without him. I know he'd put a good word in for me, that's the kind of guy he is – I want to do this on my own steam, with my talent alone . . . not by having a foot already in the door."
"You're making a mistake!"
He began walking away, and Mercedes just watched him leave. Turning to go, she noticed the pieces of the discarded card lying in the trash can, and cursed vulgarly, looking into the sky as if to say "Why is my best friend such an idiot" before scooping them out and running off. He would regret this at some point, and she would have the damn thing when he did.