"Five, six, seven, eight," Paul called out to his students as the piano man, affectionately nicknamed 'Tinkles', hammered out some generic notes while the glee kids followed Paul's feet helplessly, imitating him sloppily. "Step and step, step and step, and turn around and hit, hit, and up and down!"

Casey sighed as she half-heartedly learned the dance, rolling her eyes slightly at her clearly choreographically challenged glee club teacher. The girl decided that she would take no more of the nonsense and asked, "Can we stop please?!"

"You don't have to ask for permission every time you have to go to the bathroom, Casey," Paul insisted, "You can just go."

"It's not my bladder," Casey corrected, eyes locking with the floor as Paul turned to look at her questioningly. "It's the choreography…"

"Okay," Paul began, feeling slightly offended but keeping his mind open to criticism. "What's wrong with the choreography?"

Casey recalled earlier that day, walking down the hall when suddenly, two girls in red and white cheerleader outfits were standing in front of her, two girls she was frustrated to have to say were in glee. They had jumped straight to the point without so much as formalities, telling her that Paul's choreography "sucked", and that it was "completely unoriginal". She had tried to shrug them off; telling Sally and Kendra that they would be shunned for talking to her, but Sally shoved right back, telling her that they were a team.

"We can't compete with Vocal Adrenaline with these steps," Casey explained tentatively, and she passed a quick glance at Sally, who nodded in approval of her outburst. "You're a great vocal coach, Paul, but you're not a… trained choreographer. That's what we need to be the best!"

Casey turned to look at the group of teenagers behind her briefly, "We need Dakota Stanley," she said confidently, thinking back on what Sally and Kendra had told her as they walked through the school halls that day, and she reiterated everything back to her fellow glee clubbers. "He's the best show choir chorographer in the mid-west, he works with Vocal Adrenaline… you can't take regionals without him. He was the understudy to the Candelabra in Beauty and the Beast on Broadway!"

"Just because he understudied doesn't mean he ever performed," Paul countered, feeling a little vulnerable faced with the idea of being half-way replaced – and by the hand of his own students, too.

"Did you ever perform, Paul?" Sally asked with a slight giggle in her voice as she stepped forward. Casey cast her gaze downward, losing her confidence and feeling guilty - she hadn't meant to present a situation which could hurt him. "After High School… did you even try?"

~L~

Paul found himself in Kathy's office, pacing back and forth as he retold the events that unfolded in rehearsal that day. "I wanted to, that was my dream, you know," he explained, and Kathy listened attentively. "I just never had-"

"The guts?" Kathy offered as she used a small, yellow rag to clean the rubber tree plant in her office that she noticed had gotten a little dusty. "They say it takes more certainty than talent to be star. I mean, look at John Stamos."

"I don't know," Paul sighed, sitting down in one of two blue chairs in Kathy's office. "I hope its cool, me unloading on you like this. I don't want there to be any awkwardness."

Kathy set down her yellow rag and looked at well, shaking her head. "Oh, no, no not at all," she smiled. "You can always come talk to me, Paul."

The two shared a smile, and Paul thanked her before excusing himself. Kathy watched him leave, and then stared at the space he was just in, allowing her mind to drift… but then she shook herself back into reality, resuming the cleaning of her little rubber tree plant. She shouldn't, couldn't and wouldn't start an affair with a married man; she had far better standards than that.

So, how come she was willing her morals to suddenly disappear?

~L~

The following day, Paul was caught off-guard in the teacher's lounge when, after he poured himself a cup of coffee, he saw a certain teacher who had been fired after some bizarre claims about him and a student… a male student. "Sandy," Paul spluttered, "I thought you weren't allowed on campus."

The blonde, middle-aged teacher was seated at the table, filing away at his seemingly perfect, manicured fingernails. "No, Paul, I'm not allowed within fifty feet of children," he specified hotly. "Besides, me and Henri go way back, I got him a job before we even had a shop class. I told Lassiter that you are going to have a school full of Nancy's unless you get some hot wood in those teenagers' hands."

Paul contorted his face, but shook his head, because maybe he just read way too much into the statement… right? The hockey coach, Ken Tenaka, walked up to Paul when he saw someone walk into line of the small window in the door to the teacher's lounge. "Here comes Henri," he said.

"Aw, shoot," Paul said quietly, remembering that his wife told him she went to Publix to have a cake made. "Terri was supposed to bring a cake."

A tired, scruffy, brown-haired thirty-year-old walked into the room, holding up two thumbless, casted hands. "I'm back."

Henri, the woodshop teacher, had a little problem with over the counter cough medicine; some may even say he was slightly addicted. When he was preparing for a class one day, he had the saw running to arrange a project for his students, and let's just say that Henri had sipped a little too much Delsym. He nearly dosed off despite standing, and he ended up cutting off his thumbs. It was a real tragedy.

Henri sat down at the table, taking a gulp of coffee with much struggle, "I'll never hitchhike across Europe," he said, looking at Paul as he walked right on the edge of tears. "That was a dream, man."

Paul smiled in empathy, and a familiar face walked into the lounge carrying a cake. Paul recognized him as an employee named Howard from where his wife worked at a local Linen-n-Things, "Where's Terri?" he asked.

"Doing inventory," Howard replied softly. "I can't count higher than thirty." He set down the cake in his hands in front of Henri, which featured two giant hands in the infamous shape of a 'thumbs up', made entirely out of icing. Howard placed a hand on Henri's shoulder when he gapped at the cake, and when they all served up some slices, Henri found that he could no longer use one of the simplest of all hand-held things; a fork. He then decided to solve the problem by picking up his plate eating one of the giant thumbs, winding up with icing all over his face and odd looks in his direction.

"You know, this is nice," Paul evaded the awkward situation, folding his arms back behind his head. "I can't even remember the last time I just hung out with the guys. Really... talked about our feelings."

"You know what I'm feeling?" Ken began angrily. "I live at YMCA, I only have one pair of long pants-"

"Oh, please! My life is a disaster! With no creative outlet," Sandy said, visibly upset as he slouched back into his chair. "Other than writing my Desperate Housewives fanfiction."

"I'm afraid of my vacuum," Howard deadpanned, and he silently noted… So is my cat.

"I know how you guys feel," said Paul, recalling what had happened in rehearsal the previous day. "I apparently don't know how to dance."

"I don't have thumbs," Henri said, leaning his head against his thumbless hand, and Paul patted him comfortingly on the arm as he began to cry hopelessly into his casted hands. The other men sat in silence for a moment before Sandy chimed in with a soft singing of 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow'. Everyone joined in on trying to make Henri feel at least a little bit better, all ending with a unison, "Which nobody can deny."

And then, suddenly, out of the depths of Paul's mind, he had an epiphany, and an idea was born… an idea that might give everyone something to do after school, an idea to fulfill the dream he was never able to finish after High School! "Hey, that was pretty good," he remarked, and his idea began.

~L~

Two weeks ago, Paul Greeby would've agreed with anyone who said that four grown men rehearsing acapella hip-hop, in his living room, was embarrassing. But busting out some of his old moves, singing with people who weren't, by default caused by hormones, emotionally disturbed minors, that didn't think his choreography was on par with that of a dancing chipmunk made him feel more confident than ever. Sandy had been conveniently uninvited, because he was the textbook definition of 'eerie', and he had pitched a fit when he found out about the group. A group, a group was considered, and they even began spit-balling name ideas!

"Crescendudes," Henri suggested, but his idea was ultimately shot down.

"Testostertones," Ken offered, but Paul shook his head.

But then, they heard a single word leave Howard's lips, and they knew they had a name... "Acafellas!"

~L~

Paul had missed six rehearsals in the past month, and Casey had a feeling like it had everything to do with her and what she said about his choreography. So, one night before school, Casey had spent the entire night making a batch of her much-loved sugar cookies that she spent hours perfecting when she was eleven and forcing Lizzie into being the taste tester. She even went through the trouble of making pink icing to ice the letters to spell 'I'm sorry' on each cookie. She truly felt awful about having insulting his dancing and choreography, because she couldn't help but think of how much she cried that time another girl in her ballet class insulted her développé when she was ten years old. She walked into Paul's office before rehearsals with the cookies arranged on a pink tray.

"They're my famous sugar cookies," Casey explained with a wide grin on her face. "I baked them for the poor during Christmas time, but I whipped up a special batch just for you... I wanted to say how sorry I was for what I said."

Paul glanced at Casey and scoffed slightly. "Don't be, you were right," he admitted. "You know, the truth is, Casey, if you weren't so hard on me, I would've never had the guts to start Acafellas."

"But we need you, Paul," Casey pleaded with him. "You've missed six rehearsals in the past couple of weeks and when you're there, you're not really there."

"Which is why I think you should hire Montana,"

"Dakota," Casey corrected.

"Right," Paul said indifferently, his brain entirely wrapped in a song idea he wanted to bring up to the guys later. "I'll still be there to help you guys sing and stuff, but, uh, I just don't have time for all of it anymore."

Casey's eyebrows stitched and she turned around, scurrying out of the office, embarrassed. She ran into rehearsals for glee where everyone sat, looking bored as Ralph tapped away experimentally at the piano. "He's not coming," she said.

"What happened?" Ralph questioned, and Casey explained what had just happened in Paul's office, setting the cookies down on the piano and crossing her arms.

"Of course he doesn't want anything to do with us after you kicked him in the nads!" Ralph exclaimed, standing up from the piano bench irately.

"Well, then why did he thank me?" Casey asked, and Ralph sighed exasperatedly. He didn't like the idea of Paul not being around – it felt like your parents getting a divorce and only being able to see one of your parents every other weekend.

"The goal is to win," Kendra reminded the others from her seat next to Amy and Sally. "And now that Mister Paul has agreed to let us hire Dakota Stanley, we can!"

"But he doesn't want us to," Ralph pressed, looking at her, "He just doesn't have the confidence to coach us anymore! Guys are real sensitive when it comes to this kind of stuff..."

"And that's my fault?!" Casey exclaimed, her jaw dropping.

"You see anyone else in here with a plate of 'I'm Sorry' cookies?" Ralph asked rhetorically. "I don't, just you."

Casey peered down at the pink and yellow cookies while her face fell, refusing to admit that he had a point, but refusing to claim that he didn't. In the corner, Sally stood up, "I'm bored," she claimed. "All those in favor of hiring Dakota Stanley?"

Sally raised her hand, and the rest of the club followed her… everyone except for Ralph, who looked back at Noel to see him slowly, just barely raising his hand. Everyone left rehearsal after the fact, and Casey made a show of leaving faster than everyone else; still mortified over what had happened. "Hey, wait up!" she heard Ralph call behind her. "You can't do this to Paul!"

"What? Make him a hero? Once we hire Dakota and win nationals, he'll thank me for it," Casey insisted, not making eye contact with Ralph as we walked next to her. "You heard Kendra, it's all about winning."

"Since when?"

"Look, you have your popular clique and your hockey and your cliché of a blonde girlfriend," Casey explained heatedly, her arms crossed tightly as she walked. "Glee is my one shot! If this doesn't work out, then my whole High School life will be nothing but an embarrassment."

Ralph internally tried to figure out what a cliché was… he thought he had heard his grandma use that word before, but he didn't ask her what it meant. "What's a cliché? Is that a bad thing?" He inquired, and then he placed a hand on Casey's shoulder stepped in front of her, keeping her from walking any farther. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, is this a chick thing where you're pissed about one thing but you're pretending to be pissed about something else?"

"I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Well, for a while there, you were kind of all over me, and now you just yell at me all the time," Ralph explained, the expression on his face akin to that of a scared puppy, and it was hard to be mad at him when he looked that adorable. "It makes me think that you're still upset over what happened in the auditorium."

"I'm not," Casey began, a blush growing over her cheeks as she pushed past Ralph and walked a short distance down the hallway. "I've moved on and I'm focusing on my career now."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ralph asked, confused and exhausted. Girls were like a puzzle… not one of those small ones with the big pieces, either – they were the huge ones with the tiny pieces, and then you find out once you've finally completed most of it that one piece is missing, so you'll never have a shot of truly figuring it all out.

"No and neither do you," Casey said, turning around to face him as she walked back up to him confidently. "It's kind of ironic how you're Mister Popular and I'm just this nobody that everybody makes fun of, but I have enough confidence to say out loud that what happened between us in the auditorium was real. You have feelings for me, and you just don't have the guts to admit it."

Ralph stared at her. He wasn't going to lie, he was kind of awestruck and impressed, but she was still confusing.

"We're hiring Dakota Stanley," Casey announced firmly, and once again she turned to walk away.

"Even if it means me quitting?" Ralph challenged.

Casey paused and gulped, but she realized that she couldn't let her feelings for some unimportant high school boy with a girlfriend get in the way of her career. "Yes."

~L~

"It's a good start," Ryan began, jogging on his elliptical as he looked over at the cheerleaders in his office. "You're sewing the seeds of destruction."

"Paul barely even shows up for rehearsals," Kendra informed her coach with a satisfied grin

"Oh, no, no, no, will not cut it. I will not be satisfied until Glee club is disbanded," Ryan said with a cruel edge to his voice. "And what about this Dakota character? Any chance he actually helps?"

"They're soft, he'll eat them alive," Sally reassured her coach. "I give them fifteen minutes before one of them quits, or tries to commit suicide."

Ryan stepped off of his elliptical and put a towel around his neck, sitting down at his desk. "You've killed the Sheppard," he explained. "Now you need to go after the sheep. You need to go after these glee clubbers one by one."

Sally and Kendra nodded in compliance and obedience as Ryan continued. "I want my full budget restored," he spoke. "I need a fog machine."

~L~

Emily leaned against her locker as she watched one of many high school couples walk by - she saw Kendra breaking off a kiss with Derek, and then she saw two of several different gooey, sappy, mushy in puppy-love couples that scattered around the hallways.

Seeing Sheldon out of the corner of her eye, opening his own locker, she asked quietly, "Have you ever kissed anybody?"

"Yes, if by somebody you mean the tender crook of my elbow," he grinned, grabbing a few books from his locker. "No, I haven't... but I want to."

Sheldon spotted Emily looking directly at Derek as he leaned over her, kissing her again before Kendra waved goodbye and he walked away. "Okay, stop it right there," he chuckled, gaining Emily's attention. "Emily, we are in glee club, which means we are the bottom of the social heap. Special Ed kids will get more play than we will. The only knowledge that gets me by is that we are superior to all of them."

Sheldon grabbed Emily's arm and folded it around his, dragging her down the hallway and provoking a smile. "I gotta go to class," he said. "But meet me at lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Emily agreed kindly and looked after him as he walked away. He was a great friend; she hoped they could hang out in the future.

Emily walked down the hall and grinned after Sheldon… he was a good friend, and was always good for a laugh. Suddenly, she felt both of her arms being grabbed, other arms roping through them, and she looked to her sides to see Sally and Kendra.

"You should totally scoop that!" Sally smiled while Kendra played with Emily's curly hair.

"Sheldon?" Emily asked, appalled but amused. "Uh, no… no way."

"Why not?" Sally asked, tilting her head innocently. "He obviously likes you."

"I don't think so," Emily chuckled, but Sally politely disagreed, offering her help. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested in him… really."

Emily shuffled away from the two awkwardly, smiling her goodbyes towards them.

~L~

Acafellas had their first note-worthy gig at a note-worthy restaurant that Friday. Paul, Ken, Henri and Howard took their places on the stage, and as the lights went on, that was their cue.

"Boys, yeah spot a man of freedom for a fact!" Paul called as the intro of the song began. "Poison! You ready Ken?"

"I'm ready,"

"You ready, Henri?" Paul asked, and he replied with, "I'm ready Paul, are you?"

"Girl, I must warn you," they harmonized, and the crowd had already begun to warm up to them. "I said something strange in my mind, the situation is,"

"Serious," everyone sang in unison, their choreography was a cute and it just worked with this very amused crowd. The song continued, each member of the group taking their turn in the spotlight in the song.

In the audience, Kathy smiled wildly as she watched their performance. She could tell – from a performer's point of view – that they had worked very hard on this.

"How do you know?" Henri sang, and the rest of the group replied with a loud,

"Me and the crew used to do her!"

And with that humorous end, laughter, whistling and applause all melted together as the group all grinned happily and a reporter even wrote a piece on them.

After the show, Principle Lassiter, who had shown up after hearing about their group from other teachers, approached the group back stage. "That was an amazing performance, Paul!" he praised. "Look, there's a PTA meeting next Thursday night, and I want the Acafellas to be the main event. I need the parents happy! They found out that we've been serving the children prison food."

"Absolutely!" Paul agreed after pulling a face, but passing it off. "We'll do it, thank you so much!"

~L~

"Well?" Ken encouraged as he looked over at Paul who sat at the table in the teacher's lounge, reading a review of their performance.

"Is it too soon to call Paul Greeby the next Michael Buble? The audience last Thursday at Benchwarmer Sports Bar didn't think so. And Ken Tenaka's smoky baritone was like a cool fog that sweeps over an ocean of emotional intensity. A big thumbs up to Henri Saint Pierre who proved that you don't need all ten fingers to pluck a lady's heartstrings like a well-tuned sexy harpsichord, only Howard," Paul broke off as he saw a rather negative review of Howard's performance. "Uh, sorry Howard, they didn't say anything about you." He lied, and Howard's shoulders slumped disappointedly.

"Buckle up, Ohio, are you ready for a new musical sensation? Well, you better be, because here come the Acafellas!"

Paul stood up from his chair and high-fived each of the members of his group,

A rather frustrated Sandy walked into the room – Sandy, whom had been confronted earlier that month with an agreement from the rest of the Acafellas that when he was in the group, it was creepy. "Oh, congratulations gentlemen… by the way, I want in."

Paul sighed and stood up, ready to decline again, but Sandy turned and pointed a finger in his face. "Stop right there, Paul! I've got two words for you," he began. "Josh Groban. He's coming to the PTA event."

"Who's Josh Groban?" Howard questioned quietly.

"Who's Josh Groban?" Sandy echoed with a horrified look in his eyes as he turned to Howard, sitting down across from him as he made no effort to hold back his rage. "Kill yourself! He is an angel sent from Heaven to deliver platinum record unto us, and if he were here right now, I would club you to death with his critic's choice award."

"Why would he come to our show?" Ken asked, ignoring Sandy's relatively alarming antics.

"Because I invited him," Sandy explained, standing up and leaning against the counters. "Josh and I have become frequent pen pals since he accidentally friended me on MySpace. And being my close, personal confidant, he is only interested if I'm in the group!"

Paul stood up to face him, because, really? He'd had enough of Sandy. He was weird, kind of creepy and stubborn, and nobody was comfortable when he was around. "No, Sandy," he declined. "We have standards."

"Okay, fine. But just so you know, there's a rumor on the blogs and all over twitter… they say he's looking for an opening act."

…Crap.

~L~

Sheldon had a good car. No, Sheldon had a great car. It was a black SUV and it was definitely over the top for one lone teenage boy to get to and from school every day, but it was Sheldon's baby. Needless to say, it was him that offered to drive everyone to go meet Dakota Stanley – everyone except Ralph.

"Damn, Sheldon," Emily began. "This car is fantastic."

"My dad got it for me for my sixteenth birthday when I promised to stop dancing in public," Sheldon explained, but questioning stares reminded him that he was in glee club. "On stage doesn't count."

The group began walking to the large school where the successful, infamous glee club Vocal Adrenaline sat on its oversized pedestal. It was hard to think that glee was cool and definitely not slushie-worthy somewhere.

"Are we even sure they're rehearsing today?" Sally asked, looking back at Casey, who had organized their little field trip.

"Vocal Adrenaline rehearses every day from two PM until midnight," Casey explained, looking towards Sam, who made a face. He couldn't imagine that… he didn't want to imagine that.

Emily grabbed Sheldon's arm, something that had become somewhat routine for the two as they had become very good friends, and whenever he saw her, his face lit up a little. She was one of the few who didn't ridicule him.

"I'm just so nervous these Vocal Adrenaline kids are gonna laugh at us," Emily said to him. "They're so cool and popular, and we look like we just stepped off the short bus."

"Those sweaty Nazis have just had more time to practice, we have more heart," Sheldon reassured her. "And you don't look touched in the head."

"Thanks," Emily laughed. "Good to know."

"So would you ever wanna," Sheldon began, trailing off nervously. "You know, hang out?"

Casey looked at the two as they walked together, eyeing them nervously. This could be potentially bad, she knew that Emily was hung up over Derek, and even though they weren't exactly friends, she didn't want to see Sheldon get hurt. Drama could shake up the glee club and ruin their chances of winning at sectionals.

"Yeah," Emily replied nonchalantly. "Come on over."

Casey let out a gasp as she saw a figure in a black leotard and leggings with a blue skirt over it, hunched over a trash can, clearly revisiting her breakfast while another girl in a matching outfit held her hair back. "Guys!" she said. "That's Andrea Cohen! She won Outstanding Soloist on Absolutely Dancetastic!"

"You can't leave rehearsal for any reason," she warned. "That includes heat exhaustion or Crohn's Disease!"

"Are you guys Vocal Adrenaline?" Casey asked excitedly, and the two girls looked up at her. "We'd like to talk to Dakota Stanley about choreographing for our Glee club!"

"Don't!" Andrea screeched through her exhaustion and tears. "He's a monster!"

~L~

The intro played while the members of Vocal Adrenaline danced, grace poured over their movements that continued throughout the number. "I love you," they all sang, their voices rattling against the walls. "But I gotta stay true!"

They sang the number well, and their dancing matched. A loud voice called from off-stage once the number was finished, "Get off my stage!"

As everyone left, McKinley High's glee club rushed to meet with Dakota Stanley outside, where he was already in his car, ready to drive away with your average, long-legged blonde in the passenger's seat. "Mister Stanley!" Casey called, running up to his car. "We're the McKinley High Glee Club!"

"No interviews," Dakota barked; he was short and had a serious case of the Napoleon Complex.

"We'd like you to choreograph for us!" Sam called after him.

"Look, my fee is eight-thousand dollars per number, plus a three-thousand dollar bonus if you place in the top three," Dakota said bluntly. "And with Dakota Stanley at the wheel, you will place top three. Move it."

Dakota floored the gas pedal and zoomed off down the street, leaving the glee kids in his wake. "How are we gonna make eight thousand dollars?" Casey questioned, and on the ride home, they all began to think of ideas.

~L~

Paul stood in the choir room with a frustrated Ken, who tried desperately to figure out the steps to their new routine, despite missing most of their group and being put on the spotlight by his teacher.

"That way, and kick out," Paul explained the moves. "Kick out, right behind you."

"Where is everybody?" Ken asked, visually frustrated.

"Sandy went to get Henri from Shop Class-," Paul began, but he was cut off by his phone ringing. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed 'talk'. "Oh, there's Howard. Hello?"

"I don't think I can be in the band anymore," Howard said sadly from the other end of the line.

"What?"

"It was never my dream…" Howard trailed off, and Paul heard the phone click. He closed his eyes and held the phone against his forehead, and wondered absent mindedly if he had seen the review in the paper for himself.

"Howard's out," Paul grumbled.

"What? Oh, well that's just great! What's he-" Paul prepared himself for one of Ken's rants, but, as if on cue, Kathy walked in the door behind him, and Paul had never been more thankful. "Hey, Kathy. You didn't uh, see me dancing earlier, did you?"

"Oh," Kathy began uninterestedly. "Is that what that was? Look, I have some bad news… I think the Acafellas pressure has proven to be too much for Henri."

"Really, why?" Paul asked.

"Well," Kathy started, "Well, he just downed six bottles of cough syrup... which is a lot, even for him. He's okay, Sandy's in the emergency room with him, but Lassiter is insisting that before he comes back, and can be around kids again, he goes to rehab. So, that's where he's going tomorrow."

"That's just great. So Acafellas is officially doomed, now," Ken said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, when I'm stressed out, I work out, you can probably tell, so uh... I'm gonna go down a couple power bars, knock off a few reps, come up with some solutions here."

Ken walked out of the choir room, and Paul nodded, appearing disappointed. He had more fun in Acafellas than he did in most of his post-high school life. "It was fun while it lasted…"

"I don't think you should give up so easy, Paul," Kathy said, looking at him encouragingly. "You know, they say Van Halen was dead after David Lee Ross quit, but my worn out single of 'Right Now' says that they were wrong."

Kathy turned to walk out of the room, but as she headed for the door, she turned to smile at him, and even though she didn't see it, he smiled back.

~L~

When in doubt, there's always Craigslist. "Love to sing and dance?" Paul typed on his Mac laptop, but he was interrupted by a knock on his already open door when Ralph walked into his office.

"You got a second, Paul?" He asked.

"Yeah, of course, what's up?" Paul said, turning away from his laptop to listen to his student.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm quitting glee, too," Ralph told him, a hand in the pocket of his jeans and his book bag slung over one shoulder, locking eyes with the floor nervously.

"I didn't quit glee," Paul defended himself.

"Well, you might as well have. It's nutty in there! I tried to talk sense into Casey, but she's gone all chick batty," Ralph explained. "And I gotta be honest, it's hard being on the hockey team, and when I get in the locker room, all the guys are calling me deep throat. It's bringing down my rep, man."

"Have the guts to stick with it a little bit longer," Paul advised, not having the energy to beg and plead, but not able to let him make a mistake. "You are a gifted performer, Ralph. You can't quit now, if you do, you're gonna regret it for the rest of your life. Trust me, I know."

"It's just not fun anymore," Ralph said, looking at the ground and shuffling his feet before he began to walk out of his office.

And then, Paul glanced back at his computer and the half-typed ad on the screen, then back at Ralph. "Hey, Ralph, wait! I have something I wanna talk to you about."

~L~

"Hey, coach," Derek walked up to Ken with a towel tossed around his neck and shoulders.

"What do you want, Venturi?" Ken asked roughly.

"I heard there's a vacancy in your acapella group, I wanna offer my services," Derek removed the towel from his neck and tossed it on the floor. "I play guitar, and actually, I'm a really good singer. There are a lot of moms at your shows, right?"

The thing about Derek is that he's not like everybody else in what he calls "this crappy cow-town"; he insists that he has star potential, and it's a possibility that he's right. More specifically, he's tired of wasting his time with high school girls. Kendra had broken up with him a few days ago because his credit score wasn't good enough for her. That's why he started a pool cleaning business. Pool cleaning is simple, even your everyday, below-average IQ five year old can clean a pool. And the unemployed, romance-deprived cougars that came along with the job? Nothing to complain about. And even though he would never admit it, he was kind of curious to see what Casey was so up in arms about with dancing around on stage and singing. Maybe she was onto something, and if she wasn't? He had full rights to make fun of her for her glee clubbing ways.

"When do we start rehearsals?" Derek asked tonelessly without so much as a nod from his coach. Ken grabbed Derek by the shirt, but he remained calm.

"Now you listen to me you little psychopath!" Ken yelled and Derek stared at him blankly. "My love life is hanging by a thread and that thread is Acafellas! It drives my girlfriend nuts in the pants! So if you screw this up for me, I swear, I will stick my fist so far down your throat that you will taste my armpit hairs! Do I make myself clear?"

Derek nodded nonchalantly.

"Good! We rehearse Tuesdays and Thursdays at eight. Don't be late."

~L~

Dancing is a difficult task for your average jock of a teenage boy. So, while Paul played a few notes on an acoustic guitar and taught Ralph and Derek the steps they needed to know for Acafellas, he felt like he was watching two uptight grandmothers, especially when Ralph ran into Derek, who, in return, shoved him into wires that he tripped over. "Dude," Derek laughed. "My bowels have better moves than you."

"Guys, stop. You guys got the steps down, you just need to relax," Paul explained. "Um, you guys play baseball, right? What does your coach tell you about hitting?"

"You charge the pitcher," Derek said. "Bring the bat."

"Okay, um... but I'm sure he also tells you to relax, right? 'Cause hitting is all about the hips! Alright? Gotta loosen 'em up, alright, just swing that bat," Paul set the guitar down and tried to use his experience as a guidance counselor and put all those metaphors to use. "Pretend we're Acafellas at Madison Square Garden! There we are, all those beautiful ladies out there, swing that big old bat, bam!"

The boys laughed, but willingly played along, miming the action of swinging a bat.

"Hit some home runs, alright guys?" Paul chuckled. "Let's try it from the top. Let's go. Five six seven eight!"

The two were getting better, now not as nervous as they were before, and certainly not as stiff. It wasn't amazing yet, but it was a good start. "Good!" Paul cheered, high-fiving his students.

"That baseball thing sure was good, Paul." Ralph grinned at his teacher.

"Totally." Derek agreed. Maybe this whole showy dance thing wasn't so bad.

~L~

Maybe the cheerleaders in bikini tops and their cheerleading skirts was an intentional magnet for guys with dirty cars… maybe it wasn't. The world may never know.

"You know what, Ryan, I gotta say, I really misjudged you," Kathy said as she stood next to Ryan at the car wash. "Getting the Cheerios to help out with the Glee club choreographer fund raiser is one of the nicest things I've ever seen."

"Well, Kate, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this Glee club successful," Ryan said, and Kathy ignored the fact that her name was not Kate - certain people do not deserve to be argued with.

"Oh, I'm excited! I love a car wash," Kathy smiled as she watched the kids. "You know, when I was little, if I got all A's, my dad would let me wash his car, so I'd get my little tooth brush out and wash the car all weekend."

"You know, the way you use your mental illness to help these kids is really inspiring," the seventeen year old said without making eye contact. "And I'm shocked you're not married!"

Kathy looked around, because she never knew quite what to say around some people… especially people like this.

"Your rims are clean," Sheldon said, already tired from the excess cleaning. "We've polished them, like, three times already."

"Well, we polished your baby about five times," Emily laughed, rolling her eyes at him. "You owe me. Did you bring a change of clothes, by the way? Because we're going straight to that restaurant after this, and I don't wanna show up in suds."

"So, listen Em, this is like the third time we've gone out," Sheldon began light heartedly. "Can we just make it official?"

"Make what official?"

"You know," Sheldon hinted. "That we're dating."

Emily looked up at him and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Sheldon," she began slowly. "But I thought I was pretty clear… I'm in love with someone else." Her vision focused past Sheldon, and he turned to see Derek whom had heard about the car wash and showed up to try to patch things up with Kendra, and they were now arguing.

"Derek?" Sheldon asked, his voice slow and sounding hurt.

"Yes, for several years now…"

Sheldon stared at Emily for a few moments with his mouth agape before grabbing a rock from the ground and throwing it at her car, busting the windshield. "You bust my window," Emily gasped in disbelief. "How could you do that? You busted my window!"

Sheldon huffed, partially because he was furious and partially because he had never been more ashamed and embarrassed. He bolted for his own car that was parked nearby and hopped in; shoving the keys in and hearing the engine turn over. He pulled out of the parking lot and zoomed down the road, while the song on the radio sang, "I bust the windows out your car…"

~L~

Dakota Stanley handed out pieces of paper to each of the glee kids. "Okay, please examine your personalized menus," he explained as the kids peered over the lists. "This is what you're going to be eating for the next six months."

"Um," Emily began, looking over at Dakota. "Mine just says 'coffee'."

"Mmhm," Dakota confirmed that it wasn't a mistake.

"What's smelt?" Casey asked, disgusted. If it tasted as bad as it sounded, she would not be eating it.

"It's a pungent, low-carb, fresh water fish! Okay, let's start today's business," Dakota said. "Noel, you're cut, you're not trying hard enough."

"What?"

"You can't dance," Dakota explained. "Not my fault."

"So, you're kicking him out?!" Emily exclaimed.

"Uh-huh," He assured. "And you've gotta go too, Effy. No, no, no!"

Emily's jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide as she stared at the man in shock and offence.

"You can't kick people out of glee just because you don't like the way they look," Sheldon hissed, his voice sounding appalled.

"Why don't you shut your face?" Dakota asked, arching an eyebrow. He walked over to Sally, Kendra and Amy. "You three, you're great, don't change a thing."

The three smiled and Dakota moved on to Casey. "You?" he began, and then he looked her up and down, then looking at her face. "Ew, nose job."

"Now, hold on just a second," Ralph said, but before he could continue, Dakota interrupted.

"What was that, Frankenteen?" He asked, cupping a hand around his ear. "Why don't you wipe that dopey look of your face and get some lotion for those knuckles you've been dragging on the ground?"

"What's wrong with you?" Ralph asked, his eyebrows stitched. He was pretty sure his grandma told him that you don't talk to people like that.

"What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with me is that you're freakishly tall," Dakota exclaimed. "I feel like a woodland creature!"

The argument over if Ralph was freakishly tall or if Dakota was freakishly short remained only a thought in fear of being lynched by said self-admitted woodland creature.

Casey peered over at Ralph worriedly as Dakota started speaking again. "Am I hurting your feelings? Did I say something wrong?" He asked, with absolutely no compassion in his voice. "Because I thought you wanted somebody who respected you enough to tell you the truth. But, maybe you don't have the confidence to hear it. Hmm? Maybe you need somebody who's going to lie to you, and tell you things like, 'you got what it takes'. But, you know what, as far as I can see, you don't! So, why don't you just take a little second, take a breather, and ask yourself... do I wanna be a winner, or not?"

"Screw this," Ralph said. "I quit."

"Me too!" Sam agreed

"Let's roll, Noel," Emily joined as Noel followed behind her.

"No, that's great, you know, separate the wheat from the chaff," Dakota said, shrugging. "That's perfect!"

"Wait!" Casey called after the crowd that was headed towards the door. They turned to face her. "Barbra Streisand. When Barbra was a young ingénue everyone told her in order to be a star, she'd have to get a nose job. Thankfully, she refused."

"Where's this going, Yentil?" Dakota asked, rolling his eyes impatiently, because he really didn't see this big-nosed teenager's point.

"Where its going is that," she spared a glance at Ralph. "We don't need you. Let's face it, we're never gonna be as good of dancers as Vocal Adrenaline. We're gonna win because... we're different. And that's what makes us special."

"They told J-Lo her booty was too big," Emily countered towards Dakota, looking at him challengingly.

"Jim Abbott," Ralph started, and Dakota looked at him incredulously. "He was a one-armed pitcher for the Yankees... pitched a no-hitter."

"Okay, okay, misfits and spazz-heads, cripples can make it too!" Dakota admitted flatly. "That's great, what's your point?"

"Our point is that you're fired," Casey smiled, gaining on him while the rest of the kids grinned. And after a quick look at the top of his head which she noticed was a few inches below her, "And I'm taller than you."

~L~

It was the night of the Acafella's first show with their new members, and back stage, the group tried to shake off their nerves.

"Oi, we have to wear mascara?" Ralph asked as he watched his coach apply mascara to his top eyelashes.

"Sandy says it makes our eyes pop," Ken explained, and Ralph merely walked away. He hoped to one day forget what he just saw, even if it took therapy.

"There are a lot of moms out there, right?" Derek said, looking at Ralph, who smiled widely. Manwhore or not, his best friend was amusing.

"Guys, don't worry about it! Just get in the zone, alright," Paul began, even though he himself was a little jittery and pumped up. "This is gonna be fun! Believe me, you're gonna remember this night for the rest of your lives!"

"Paul?" Ralph asked.

"I know," he smiled. "You're nervous!"

"No, that isn't what I wanted to tell ya'. It's just," he paused. "Thanks for believing in me."

Paul smiled and nodded, and a suddenly vibrantly happy Sandy burst in.

"He's here! He's here! Josh Groban is here," he said, all but bouncing up and down like your type A Jonas Brothers fangirl. "Front row, big brown eyes, cute as a buttermilk biscuit! I barfed."

"Wait," Paul began with his eyes widened in surprise, "He actually showed up?! I can't believe it!"

"Forget every experience that has ever happened in your drab little lives, this is the most important thing you will ever do!" Sandy exclaimed. "PLACES!"

They took their places on stage and the audience waited until lights flashed on stage, showing the silhouettes of five people.

"I know they're not gonna sing that song!" Sandy yelled in time with the music.

"Come inside," Paul sang, and he never felt more capable of doing anything than he did on that stage. "Take off your coat, I'll make you feel at home! Let's pour a glass of wine 'cause now we're all alone."

"I've been waiting all night long," he continued. "So, just let me hold you close to me! 'Cause I've been dyin' girl for you to make love to me!"

"I wanna sex you up!"

~L~

"I would love to just go to a recording studio and lay some of those tracks down," Sandy babbled on to Lassiter, who probably wasn't listening anyway. "And, of course, I would love to play some bigger venues. Wembley Stadium, Red Rocks..."

"Dude, I think you might've found a bit of a gold mine in this singing schtick," Derek admitted to Ralph as they enthused about the show.

"I told you, man," Ralph rubbed it in his face, and Derek moved onto another topic.

"And did you see that milf in the front row? Yow!" he laughed, goofing around, but everything ceased when they heard a voice from across the room.

"Hey, guys!" A voice called as they stepped back stage and Ralph tapped Paul's shoulder, getting his attention. When the room became silent, Sandy turned and gasped. "I'm Josh Groban, this is my body guard, Flex. We were in town, I was inducting Run DMC at the Rock and Roll hall of fame last night, so I thought I'd stop by and say hello. So, which one of you is, uh... Sandy?"

Sandy raised his hand and chuckled at himself, "Mister Groban, we are so honored that you came here today!"

"I came here to tell you," Josh was interrupted by an eager 'Yes, sir' from Sandy, and Josh held out a piece of paper. "Stop e-mailing me! This is a restraining order. Stop sending me nude photos! Stop calling me; I don't know how you got my number. I don't even know how you got my number again after I changed it. But I don't want any more of your edible gift baskets or locks of your hair, and I don't want to read any more of those sonnets you wrote for me."

"That stuff's kinda crazy, dude," Josh's body guard said.

"We clear?" Josh asked, and Sandy nodded slowly, his face turning bright red. "Thank you, gentlemen, and by the way, great show, I mean, like, pff! Explosive."

"Thanks," Paul said, barely audible out of second-hand embarrassment for Sandy. "Sorry…"

~L~

Emily switched out the books in her locker, opening up her backpack.

"Hey, Emily," Sheldon said as he walked up to her hesitantly. She glared gamma rays, but he pressed on into the jungle that is an angry teenage girl. "I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry I did that to your car, I couldn't imagine if someone did that to me, and over something that stupid, too... I'll pay for it to get fixed."

"It's okay," Emily waved him off, still with an edge of frustration in her voice. "My dad took away my car when I snuck out a few nights ago, anyway."

"And I just wanted to say I hope it works out between you and Derek," He said kindly. "You'll have really cute babies."

He started to walk away, but Emily called him back. "Sheldon?"

"Yeah?" He tuned back.

"It's probably not going to work out, anyway," she shrugged. "I mean, look at him… he's all over a lot of girls in this school. And I don't wanna lose a friend because of someone that probably isn't right for me anyway."

Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Sheldon, smiling into his neck.

~L~

The kids weren't so helpless trying to follow Paul's instructions this time around, as they had gotten the hang of it. It was so much better having Paul back around, being nice and not kicking anybody out because of the way they looked. But when Paul turned to his students, asking them what they thought of the choreography, Casey raised her hand and said with a serious tone of voice, "Paul?"

"…Yes, Casey?" Paul sighed.

"It was really good," Casey said, smiling widely as she nodded her head in approval. The students laughed and began to clap, and they knew that all was forgiven.

"Thank you, thank you," Paul said, bowing somewhat. "From the top!"

~L~

"Let me get this straight," Ryan said as he sat at his desk after a lengthy description of the events that unfolded in the past few weeks. "The glee club got rid of Dakota Stanley, Paul's back, and they're busy working on a new number more confident than ever?"

"Yeah," Sally gulped, sitting next to an equally nervous Kendra, concerned that there may be some form of shooting.

"This is what we call a total disaster, ladies," Ryan said. "I'm going to ask you to sniff your arm pits."

Sally and Kendra shared a nervous look before lifting their arms and sniffing disdainfully.

"That's the smell of failure," Ryan claimed, scowling at the cheerleaders. "And it's stinking up my office. I'm revoking your tanning privileges for the rest of the semester."

The two left with a heavy sigh, but Sally stopped short of the door with an oddly calm look on her face, "I want to thank you Mister Sylvester,"

"For what?" Ryan hissed.

"For teaching me a valuable life lesson," she explained with a smile. Glee had taught her things that her parents never bothered to, and she certainly hadn't learned from cheerleading. She had realized in the past few days that just because someone did something that wasn't what you did, just because they didn't look like you or talk like you, didn't mean there was anything wrong with them. "When you really believe in yourself, you don't need to bring other people down."