A/N: The first proper chapter in the story. I'm hoping people will like it, and that you will let me know by way of review!
This chapter is the beginning of the story- the prologue sort of set the scene. Although this chapter is quite slow, I promise the pace will pick up soon. Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, but I'm hoping Ryan Murphy will send me Puck for my birthday…..
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"What the hell is goin' on?" Puck demanded grouchily as he slouched into the choir room with Quinn. The blonde former cheerleader made a primly impatient noise and rolled her eyes at him.
"I've already told you, I have no idea," she sighed. "No doubt Rachel's thrown another fit because she's not front and centre in our latest routine."
"Hey!" Rachel exclaimed from her seat, bottom lip extended in a hurt pout. "I've already lodged that complaint with Mr Schuester, and he assured me that he will rectify the situation in the next number by allowing me to take lead vocals and giving me a dance break."
"Oh," said Quinn, cutting her off before the pint-sized primadonna could launch into a detailed description of her ideas for the new number. "Then what are we doing here at this unearthly hour?"
Her fellow glee club members adopted similarly puzzled expressions. Kurt was sitting with Mercedes in the back row of seats. They were both sipping from tall Styrofoam coffee cups and wearing tired expressions. Tina was in conversation with Artie, the pair of them sitting with their heads together as they attempted to decipher what exactly was going on. Next to them Matt and Mike sat in exhausted silence, unable to speak this early in the morning. Rachel was sitting at the piano, looking far too alert for this hour of the morning in a blinding tartan skirt and hideous knitted sweater. She ran her fingers fluidly over the ebony and ivory of the piano keys, brow puckered as she tried to work out what was going on. Finn, in stark contrast, sat with his head leaning against the wall. His snuffling snores filled the choir room until Matt poked him hard in the ribs. His eyelids fluttered open rapidly.
"I- what?" he mumbled wildly as a chorus of titters rang out.
"Need some caffeine Finn?" Santana smirked as she and Brittany entered behind Puck and Quinn. Both girls were dressed in their Cheerios' uniforms and looked immaculate even at this early hour. Their hair was swept back into Sue Sylvester's regulation high ponytails and both wore flawlessly applied makeup. Like Kurt and Mercedes, the two cheerleaders held coffee cups in their manicured hands.
"You can have mine," said Brittany in her soft, dazed voice. "My mom says I shouldn't drink coffee anymore, not since I tried to pogo-stick down the stairs on the broom."
She held the cup out to Finn, who accepted it in dumbfounded silence. Then she took a seat next to Santana and the two bent over Santana's cell phone, gossiping in a whisper. For a moment, the rest of the club just stared at the ditzy cheerleader. Then the spirited debate as to why Mr Schuester had asked them to gather in the choir room before school began in earnest.
"Maybe he's leaving again," Kurt suggested, subsequently earning himself a smack across the head from Mercedes.
"Don't say that!" the coffee-skinned diva exclaimed. "Maybe we've got a new member."
"After the Jesse St. Douche fiasco?" snorted Puck. "I don't think so."
"Perhaps the National Showchoir Committee have finally responded to my weekly letters requesting permission to form a one-woman glee club," Rachel mused, her voice laced with hope.
"Or maybe Mr Schue's realised that in your case the daily slushie facials are doing some good Berry," countered Santana acidly. "They're doing wonders to deflate that ego of yours."
"Or maybe," said a voice from the doorway. "He's got a surprise for you guys."
Mr Schue strolled inside, his face split into a broad grin. He held a stack of papers in his hands and didn't appear to be tired at all.
"Now, you guys have been working really hard this year. I know it was difficult for you all, losing out at Regionals last year like that. But since we came back after the summer you've all been putting in a great effort. I'm really proud of you, and I figured you deserved to be rewarded," he grinned enthusiastically. He began to hand out glossy leaflets and what looked like permission slips. "So we're going on vacation together. A friend of mine owns this amazing lodge up in the mountains, right on Lake Witkeel. It's beautiful this time of year. We can go fishing and picnicking, and I think it'll be a great opportunity for us all to bond as a group, to really connect and-"
"Mr Schue?" Puck interrupted. "If you're gonna keep goin' with this sappy sentimental stuff, can I leave the room? I think I'm gonna be sick."
Mr Schue laughed good-naturedly with the rest of the group and held up his hands in defeat. "OK Puck, I'll give you that one. Any other questions?"
"Yah," said Santana immediately. "Do we have to go?"
"Is there cell phone coverage?" Mercedes demanded.
"What will the weather be like? I cannot rock a parka."
"When are we going? We've got football practice….."
"Does a witch live in that house?"
"Guys, guys, one at a time!" Mr Schue laughed. "Yes Santana, attendance is obligatory. There is cell phone coverage Mercedes, and Kurt, you shouldn't require a parka. It's not the North Pole. We'll be going during spring break Finn, so football wont be affected. And Brittany, why would a witch live there?"
"It looks like this house I saw in a book and the book said a witch lived there and tricked kids into coming in and ate them."
"Brit," said Santana kindly. "That was Hansel and Gretel. It's just a story."
"Oh."
At this point, Rachel got to her feet and flounced over to stand beside Mr Schue. She planted her hands on her hips with vigour and stared at her fellow glee club members fiercely.
"I for one think it's a great idea Mr Schue," she said, throwing him a glowing glance. "It is of vital importance that we come together as a team and have real chemistry which transfers onto the stage. In fact, it's the one thing which will give us the edge over our competitors . Although we all know that I am the star of New Directions, the sun around which you lesser performers orbit, I feel that we should make an effort to add real depth to our performance, thus placing us higher in the judges' estimations than the soulless automatons of Vocal Adrenaline. This trip is the perfect way to do that. I'm in."
"Why do you think I'm not?" muttered Santana. Quinn smirked appreciatively at her former sidekick and a low chorus of laughter filtered through the room. A crestfallen Rachel crossed her arms over the embroidered cat on the front of her navy sweater. Her deep chocolate eyes flashed desperately to Finn's face, imploring him to intervene. For a moment, there was silence, then-
"I'm in too," he sighed, resigned. Rachel beamed at him, an action that was shadowed by Mr Schuester. Though Finn did his best to deny it, he was a natural leader. The other members of the club looked up to him, admired him even. Sure enough, once he had given his approval refusals began to melt away like icicles in summer.
"Fine, me too."
"I guess I can make time."
"Alright, I'll do it."
Mr Schue rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"That's the spirit guys," he said cheerfully. "I just know this is going to be the perfect vacation. Now, get into your starting positions for We Are Golden. Kurt, you're up. From the top with energy guys!"
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Once glee rehearsal had finished, Will had ten minutes before he was due in class. Buoyed by the group's relatively positive reaction to the trip to Lake Witkeel, he made his way to Emma's office, still humming the infectious chorus to We Are Golden under his breath.
Knock knock.
"Come in Jacob," Emma called distractedly from her desk. She looked up. "Oh. It's you Will."
"Am I interrupting? I could come back later….."
"No, no it's fine," said Emma. She looked breathtaking as usual in a neat lilac cardigan and cream shift dress, a set of pearls decorating her throat. "I've got an appointment with Jacob Ben Israel, but it's not for another twenty minutes."
"I'll be quick, I promise," Will smiled. He stepped inside and stood in front of Emma's perfectly arranged desk. A small china vase of baby's breath sat in the top corner, and all her stationary was lined up parallel to each other.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" asked Emma. Will felt his stomach drop at the strictly professional tone she now affected. He missed her. Twisting his hands in his lap, he slid the brochure across the wood of the desk towards her.
"I'm bringing the kids on a trip to Lake Witkeel during spring break," he explained. "The thing is though, I need a female teacher to come with me, for security reasons, you know. I thought maybe you would like to come?"
"Oh Will, I….."
"I get it," said Will, feeling a dull blush creep across his cheeks. "You're probably busy, I just thought I'd ask. But I guess you probably have plans with whatshisname, the dentist, Karl? That's fine, I just thought… it's fine."
"I'd love to come Will," Emma told him in a gentle voice. A soft smile caressed her pretty features. Will immediately felt very stupid.
"Oh. Oh, well that- that's great! Thanks Emma, I appreciate it."
He stood to go with the feeling that this hadn't been nearly as bad as he had expected. His hand was on the door handle when Emma spoke again.
"And for the record, Will, I broke up with Karl last week. I found out that he doesn't approve of wearing latex gloves outside the surgery."
Will didn't respond, careful to play it cool, but secretly his insides were doing the conga. A broad grin crossed his face as he bounded down the corridor to first period Spanish. Ordinarily, it would not be something he was looking forward to; Brittany was in this class, which meant he would be spending at least half the period explaining to her why drawing sombreros in the answer boxes was not sufficient to pass a pop quiz. Today however, he didn't mind in the slightest.
This is going to be a really great trip, he thought contentedly as he entered the classroom to a rousing chorus of "Buenos dias Mr Schue."
He would realise later how wrong he was.