Hey there! Thanks so much for reading. Apologies for the slow updates. I kind of suck like that. Anyway, let's get on with this shenanigan!

But first, I'd like to take a moment to congratulate the lovely and oh-so deserving Chris Colfer on his Golden Globe! I cried all the proud mama tears.

I got called "New Guy" four times that day. Some times were more welcome than others.

Monday mornings should be illegal, I thought as I dragged myself out of bed. I hit the snooze button on my alarm furiously, as if it had done me a deep personal wrong. Which it had. I groaned and rolled off my bed onto the floor.

Eventually, (after some skilled commando crawling) I made it to the bathroom. I stared into my pale green eyes. On some days they seemed more blue than green, and on other days they were almost yellow. Today they were just sort of in-between. Eh. My dark hair was curling all over the place, as usual. Eh. I decided, however, that I'd make sure today wasn't an 'eh' day. I'd been assuming the role of 'New Kid', and hopefully after a whole week the New Kid stigma had died down and I didn't have to be awkward-nervous-quiet-non-threatening-neutral-please-everyone-new-guy anymore. Hopefully, anyway.

I was greeted with great enthusiasm by the rest of the McKinley band when I arrived in the auditorium in the morning to drop off my trumpet. It was like they were surprised to see me back...

"Hi guys..." I said, bemused (to put it lightly), receiving a bear hug from the band leader Dean. "You're not like this every day are you...? I mean, I do love the attention don't get me wrong but I think you-" I shook Dean off "–might break me if you do that to me again anytime soon."

"No," Dean laughed, his hands still on my shoulders, beaming like a proud father. "We're just glad you came back. Most people quit after they find out we play with the Glee club."

"Oh," I said, not entirely surprised. "Why?"

"No one likes the Glee kids," Lisa, the tenor sax player, explained.

"I must declare my utmost disregard for that assessment," came an irritated voice from the doorway. I recognised the owner of the voice as Artie, the occasional jazz band member and Glee kid.

Lisa laughed. "I'm just speaking in general terms. We all love you Artie."

"That's what I'm talking 'bout," Artie grinned, wheeling himself in. He stopped short when he saw me. "Ah! New guy?" Damn it, I'm still the New Guy. Artie dumped his guitar down among the other instruments, and introduced himself with an extended hand. "I'm Artie."

"I'm Andre," I said, going in for a handshake but then Artie pulled me into one of the handshake-man-hugs. NOOOOO! I'm bad at those at the best of times, let alone when the other person is waist-high. I got through it, nonetheless, without seriously injuring either of us. I doubted Artie wanted another serious injury.

A look of amused comprehension appeared on Artie's face after hearing my name. "I think you met my friends."

A quiet rumble of simultaneous laughter came from the rest of the band. Not cool guys.

"I wouldn't say met..."

"It was the story of the weekend," Artie chuckled. "I was only a few metres away; I'm surprised I missed it."

I gave an awkward laugh. A voice in my head screamed at me to stop being The Awkward New Guy, but I couldn't help it. If people treat me like a new guy, I'll act like a new guy. This was of course going to lead me into a doomish paradox of doomy New-Guy-doom, but it was the best I could come up with at that stage.

"So what do you play?" Artie asked me.

"Trumpet," I said.

"Cool," Artie said. "We should jam something. Know any Miles Davis?"

I was offended. "I'm offended," I said, offended. "Of course I do!"

Artie laughed, and we talked until the bell rang. It turned out he too harboured a love for the Beatles that could only be called religious.

"We should definitely jam someday," Artie smiled.

My new-best-friend sense is tingling. "Hells yeah!" I nearly yelled. Then, grinning, I gave Artie a ridiculously loud (and painful) high five and ran out of the auditorium, blowing kisses to everyone. "Farewell, shiny jazz people!" I yelled, feeling like I'd broken off the first chink in my new guy armour.

My first class was English. I didn't really know where to sit as this was one of the few classes I didn't have with Dean or Lisa or someone else from the jazz band. I recognised Tina, the cute goth girl from the glee club, but when she saw me she blushed and retreated further into the wall she was leaning on, as if trying to escape through it. I wandered to the back of the room, sat down at an empty table, and, as the teacher was running late, got out the music that Dean had given us for the week (it seemed like a more fun alternative to actually participating in class). Defying Gravity from Wicked was the song we were doing with the glee club. It stood out as it had the most boring trumpet line amongst all the other pieces. I hadn't heard it before, but Dean said it was a rare occasion that we would actually get music this far in advance for New Directions so we'd actually be able to rehearse it. Mr Schue must have been planning this for ages. Dean also said that we'd probably get more songs from them later on in the week. He then corrected himself saying we'd probably get more songs from them within minutes of having to perform them. I didn't mind. Sounded like a challenge.

I had my nose in about 30 pieces of music and all was well until a distraction soon came in the form of two football players. One was huge, with very cute kind of small boy quality to him. The other was less tall - shorter than me - with a mohawk and a smug expression. They both stood in front of me, staring at me quizzically.

"Can I help you?" I asked after a brief moment.

They nodded to each other and rushed to take the two empty seats on either side of me.

"New Guy," said the one with the mohawk. "Sup?"

"Not much," I said. "I'm Andre."

"Puck," he said, "and this is my boy, Finn."

His boy Finn waved largely. Everything he did seemed to be large. "Hi," he said small-ly, disproving my theory. I supposed he wasn't a wordy guy.

"Hey."

And that was where the conversation stopped short. Awkward.

The teacher arrived soon after that, erasing any need for us to make small talk, which was good because Puck and his boy didn't seem capable of doing so and I sure as hell wasn't keen either. She was going on about the cultural significance of something and waving the text we were studying around emphatically. I wasn't interested, so I went through my part to Defying Gravity. It involved a whole lot of sitting around and not playing, and then when I did play it was just some cliché shock notes. Classic boring Broadway trumpet part. Dean had also given me the score to the vocal part for rehearsal purposes. It was fine for me on trumpet, but it looked like hell for whichever girl was singing it. Well, actually I had no idea as I didn't really know anything about singing (unless it was in the shower).

About 20 minutes later, at which stage I was playing air trumpet to myself to practice, I was interrupted by a light punch in the side. I looked up and Puck and Finn were once again staring at me.

"Can I help you?" I asked, again.

"Andre!" Finn exclaimed, pointing at me, reminding me once again of a child. It was sort of like that stage where they just learn to talk, and pointing at everything you can name is extremely exciting.

"Keep it down, Finn," the teacher up the front said.

"Andre Vallier?" Puck asked, in a hushed tone. "That's you, right?"

I nodded again.

"Coach Tenaka read your file. He said you were going to come and save the basketball team."

My insides twisted and I laughed nervously. "But it's not even basketball season yet!" And why is the information in my file being broadcast to the football team?

"He wanted us to get you on board as soon as possible," Finn grinned.

What time is it? Back story time!

See, at my old school I wasn't in the Jazz Band. I was a bit of a jock.

"A jock?" you ask. "But Andre! You are so shiny and jazzy!"

Why thank you! I am very shiny and jazzy. But I didn't used to be.

My story in less than 200 words is, basically, this: I had only one friend in elementary school, and we went to junior high together and decided to join the basketball team because we were both kind of tall and had nothing else to do. But then we both got kind of good, and then we had all these jock friends and I went to high school with them as 'the basketball dude'. So I became this cool guy... and I am not a cool guy by any stretch of the imagination. I just got trapped in this cool jock cage, full of ditzy girlfriends and stupid friends, and it took moving to Lima, Ohio of all places to get me out of that.

I was never really a jock at heart. I'd played trumpet since I was 7 years old and my favourite thing to do was write horn lines for Beatles songs or play Herbie Hancock songs until my lips were numb. But it was so much easier being what they told me to be than trying to figure out who I was… so I stuck with it.

It actually took a lot of self-control to avoid becoming a jock again. I felt like I was taking a risk being the jazz guy, because I'd never done it before. When I met with the school guidance counsellor on my first day, I asked for the sign-up sheets to "basketband" and "jazz-ball" (she now thinks I'm crazy). It'd been great being in the jazz band those last few days, but I was still trying to avoid any contact with any of the sports guys, for fear of going back to being a douchebag.

"So, are you in?" Puck asked, once my interior monologue had finished.

"Sorry, man. I can't," I mumbled, not looking at him. "That's not what I do anymore."

The bell rang, and Puck and Finn followed me out of class as I left hastily.

"What do you mean that's not what you do?" Puck asked. "You were the top shooter in your region and you were a freshman!"

I reached my locker and the two of them stood beside me as I did my combination.

"It's just… not my thing," I shrugged. "I've got other dreams, you know?" I directed this last bit at Finn, who had had a vague look of understanding when I first declined.

He nodded to me. "I noticed you in the jazz band at last Glee rehearsal."

I gave Finn a grateful look for understanding. But Puck wasn't going to give up. "Our basketball team didn't win a game in all of last season. Don't you think you owe it to us to join?"

"I just got here. I don't owe anyone anything."

"Fine," Puck said. "But do you really wanna spend the next two years being a band geek? Bands geeks get beaten up. By me." He flexed his arm, as if to emphasise the pain one would feel getting a personal beat-up from him.

I shrugged. I looked lanky, but I could fend for myself. You don't get to be the region's top scorer without getting a little muscle.

"If you join the basketball team, you'll be the one beating up the band geeks. What else could you want?"

I slammed my locker dramatically. "Just leave me alone, OK?" I snapped. "I don't know you, or like you particularly, so I don't owe you shit. So I'm gonna stay in the jazz band, and you can wallow around in your testosterone in peace."

"Oh, it is on," Puck sneered from behind me.

"It's not on," Finn told him quietly, then called after me, "It's not on, Andre! Nothing's on!"

"IT'S SO ON!" Puck yelled.

Not turning around, I gave him the finger over my back, and slipped into French class.

I walked in and immediately recognised the guy from New Directions last Thursday sitting at the only table with seats left. I couldn't quite remember his name. What was it again...? Oh yeah-

"Kurt!" I thought, holding my index finger up in the 'idea' position. He immediately looked up, and, seeing me, looked horrified. Oh your god, I thought, I said that out loud. I just stared at him, and he just stared back, turning steadily redder. I don't know why I was embarrassed. Oh actually… it was probably because I had just yelled his name in a ridiculously happy voice. But that was only because I had thought it in my head in that tone! I even had that I-just-remembered-something-aren't-I-awesome face on. Must. Repair. Awkward. Situation. Though it felt like much longer only about 18 seconds had elapsed.

I sat down next to him.

"Hi," I smiled as pleasantly as I could. "It is Kurt, right?"

"Kurt Hummel," he smiled, shaking my hand. "And you're… new guy?"

"Andre Vallier," I said.

Kurt smiled again fleetingly then turned away, clearly embarrassed. His complexion had turned from its usual cool ivory to something similar to a beetroot. It didn't really suit him.

I didn't want to leave it like this. We could never be friends if it was this awkward, and for some reason I really wanted to be friends with this kid. The teacher was late, so there was ample time for awkward silence, and after a few moments I tried talking again.

"Nice hat," I tried. And it was. It was like a smaller version of a pirate hat… but sequined. I want a shiny pirate hat… I found myself staring at his hat and missed his reply. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said thanks," he said, turning away again. He started adjusting his hat uncomfortably, as if I had offended him with my compliment.

"Where did you-"

"OH, HELL TO THE NO!" came a loud voice.

I looked up and saw Mercedes from the Glee Club standing in front of us. She had just walked in, and was glowering at Kurt.

"Kurt, you promised me and Tina that we'd all go talk to him together!"

"It's not my fault!" Kurt retorted. "He approached me."

Mercedes' face softened, but then she looked quite disappointed. "So he is on your team?"

"I don't know," Kurt said. "I still think so though." He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, holding his right hand in the air and crossing his left across his chest.

I sat there, bemused, with my mouth open staring at the two of them. "You guys know I'm still here… right?"

Mercedes laughed. "Sorry."

I kept staring at her. She sat down next to me. I persisted with the staring, hoping it would prompt some sort of explanation.

"I'm Mercedes," she said, smiling sweetly. "I hope we haven't weirded you out too much. New people who don't hate on us straight away are kind of exciting."

It certainly has weirded me out. I thought. But not too much… and if they're like this all the time life could be hilarious. I smiled. "Not really," I said.

"Great," she said sweetly, smiling again. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."

"Andre Vallier," I smiled, giving her a wink. I then decided that winking was my new thing.

"Sounds French," she said.

"That's why I'm taking French class," I grinned, shrugging. "My dad's French," I explained.

Kurt seemed impressed, and asked me if I spoke French at home. I told him only sometimes, when my mum was out. My mum's French is terrible (which is why my dad's English is so good).

"French is sexy," muttered Kurt and Mercedes together, in the same tone. They laughed at their having the same thought at the same time, and then they did this weird little finger wiggle thing and ran their fingers through their hair.

I've got to come up with something like that with Artie… but first I have to tell him that he's my new best friend. And also meet him more than once. That would certainly help the process along.

The teacher came in (teachers are always so late at this school!) and stopped our conversation. She made me introduce myself in front of the class in French, which became a lot more difficult when Kurt and Mercedes were making faces at me from the back.

After class, we walked through the hall together.

"So," Mercedes said seriously when we got to my locker, "I have to ask you…" She looked at Kurt for support, and he gave a grave and solemn nod. "Are you gay?"

I gaped at them in vague amusement, wondering if they were joking, and after some time they looked just as serious and a whole manner of insects may or may not have flown into my mouth. I tried to keep serious and utter a no-fuss no, but it just came out as a loud guffaw. Mercedes' deadly serious tone and concerned face, Kurt's look of grave hopefulness, the fact that Artie had wheeled himself up to us just as they said that, making the best what-the-shit-is-going-on-here-I-leave-you-two-alone-for-two-minutes-and-this-is-what-you-do-this-is-why-we-can't-have-nice-things face I've ever seen - I found it hilarious, however inappropriate that may have been. I burst out laughing, and couldn't be controlled. Artie laughed too, more at the unholy noises I was making than what was going on. My stomach hurt and I could hardly breathe. I had to lean on his chair for support.

Eventually my laughing was reduced to some infrequent chuckles, and Mercedes and Kurt looked at each other. "Well?" Mercedes said.

"No," I giggled. "I'm not."

Kurt was visibly disappointed, while Mercedes gave a triumphant fist-pump.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you guys," Artie said, shaking his head.

Tina joined us, but looked like she was about to walk away again when she saw me. She turned bright red and avoided eye contact. What a cutie.

"Guess what, Tina," Mercedes said excitedly.

"W-w-what?" Tina said, quietly, giving me a nervous glance.

"Two things. One: he doesn't hate us or think we're Gloosers-"

I gave her a confused look.

"Glee losers."

"Ah…"

"And two: he's straight!" Mercedes went in for a high five, which Tina meekly returned, sharing a why-are-we-friends-with-these-two look with Artie and giving me another nervous glance.

"You do the talking like I'm not here thing a lot, don't you?" I said to Mercedes.

"Oh yeah," Mercedes said.

"She does that to me too," Tina adds, smiling and just barely looking up at me. Her shyness was so endearing I just wanted to hug her.

"So… you're sure you're straight?" Kurt checked, looking embarrassed as soon as he'd said it.

"Yup," I said giving Tina a wink though it was completely irrelevant. Really I was just testing my winking skills. She turned bright red and muttered something about having to leave. Winking 1, world 0. She was stopped in her tracks by a giant wall in the shape of a jock. Or a giant jock in the shape of a wall. Difficult to say. She squeaked and went back to stand behind Mercedes. Said jock punched the locker in front of my face casing a loud bang.

"What do you want, Karofsky?" Kurt asked, rolling his eyes. His nonchalance made me feel calmer.

"I'm not here for you today, Hummel," he said, not looking away from me. "I've got a special delivery for New Guy over here."

I looked over at Artie for some kind of support, but he was staring Karofsky, wide eyed and terrified, and didn't notice me. Before I could look back he had grabbed me and shoved me into the lockers. Pain seared through the back of my head. I felt kind of dizzy.

"You," Karofsky sneered, "Are way overdue for your New-Guy punch in the face. I can't believe you escaped me for a whole week."

"If I'm that overdue, I am really still a New Guy?" I asked politely. "You might have missed your chance on this once." I smiled cheerfully again and tried to pull away.

"Don't give me attitude!" he snarled, grabbing my shoulders and banging me against the locker again. "I know what you said to Puck."

I gave him a confused look.

"You think you're better than us. You think you so creative being in the jazz band. Being on the team just isn't good enough for you," his voice became louder with rage. People were stopping and staring. "You think you're better than me!"

"I don't even know who you are!" I yelled back exasperatedly, giving him a shove. What the shit is this guy's problem? My head was throbbing.

"Well you're about to find out!" he snarled dramatically. I braced myself to block whatever he tried to pull with my ninja skills. Just kidding, he was probably gonna get me right in the face before I realised.

He made the beginnings of some violent movement and-

"Am I the only one here who thinks this is highly unnecessary?" Artie asked loudly, looking around at others. A few people nodded and murmured in agreement.

"SHUT UP, CRIPPLE!" Karofsky screamed, lunging at Artie.

Oh no. I grabbed Karofsky by the back of his shirt and slammed him into the lockers. I was taller than him (though he was as wide as three of me), and I looked down at him, our faces nearly touching.

"Do not touch him," I said very slowly. "And never-" I went in closer "-ever call him that again."

Karofsky had a gleam of uncertainty in his eye. "You can't talk to me like that."

"I just did."

There was a faint 'oooh' from the crowd (or maybe just Kurt… it sounded a lot like Kurt). Oh well, I got an 'oooh', I was happy.

Karofsky looked around and smirked. "Welcome to McKinley, New Guy." He took advantage of my loosened grip on him, pushed me foreword and punched me hard in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. He punched me again in the stomach, yelling taunts, and a last time in the face. I still couldn't breathe. Everything was getting hazy. The last thing I remembered was a final blow to the head, and Tina's elaborate shoes next to me as I lay on the ground.