A/N: Thank you for your patience! I was feeling very uninspired, but I'm getting a few more ideas now!
Please enjoy! And I love reviews!
Unsurprisingly, Rachel was the first one to come up with her song, just three days after Mr. Schuester had given his assignment.
Mr. Schuester looked out over his club, thinking of each member fondly. Skyler was at the far end of the room, her mother seated behind her. Skyler's eyes were focused on Rachel; though the pixie of a girl had been a constant fixture, a cold was wearing on her defenses. Susan Howard had been accompanying Skyler to more of her classes, spending a large amount of class time sucking out the trach tube that kept Skyler breathing, plus Skyler's mouth and nose. The whirring hum of the suction machine had become a backbeat for class.
"I hope everyone loves Liz Phair as much as I do," Rachel said perkily, bobbing up and down on her saddle-shoed feet.
"How could that even be possible?" Kurt muttered rhetorically.
"I'm ready when you are," Rachel said to the back-up group.
Brad counted in the air with his fingers and the music started.
"You think that I go home at night / take off my clothes, turn out the lights / but I burn letters that I write / to you, to make you love me," Rachel sang. "I am extraordinary / if you'd ever get to know me / I am extraordinary / I am just your everyday / average everyday sane psycho / super-goddess…"
"Rachel thinks she's extraordinary," Santana said. "What else is new?"
"You may not believe in me / but I believe in you / so I still take the trash out / does that make me too normal for you?" Rachel kept singing. "See me jump through hoops for you / you stand there watching me performing / what exactly do you do? / have you ever thought it's you who's boring?"
The song ended and Rachel beamed at the group.
Before she could say anything, Skyler choked, the ventilator alarmed, and Susan Howard got up to suction. There was a whirr and a sucking noise, Skyler gagged, and then silence.
"That was great, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands as though the medical-based intrusion had not occurred. "Gang, I think you're all pretty extraordinary."
"Thank you, Mr. Schuester," Rachel beamed, and headed back to her seat next to Finn.
Mr. Schuester stood up. "All right, folks, let's get back to work on the song without words. Oh, but before we start – remember, next Saturday is sectionals! We'll be leaving the parking lot at seven-thirty sharp. The costumes will be here after school, so come pick them up before you go home."
Kurt raised his hand. "Mr. Schuester, before we begin, I would like to present my song today as well."
"Great, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said. "What a class act – two songs ready this early!"
"We're not all perfect," Mercedes said.
"I haven't even picked a song yet," Santana said, rolling her eyes.
"Me neither. I have to figure out who I am first," Brittany said in a low voice.
Kurt headed for the front of the room, grabbing a top hat that had previously sat unnoticed on the piano. He slid it onto his head with the utmost in smooth gestures, and then took his place before the group.
The trumpets were the first to play, giving Kurt an introduction.
"… Have you seen the well-to-do / up and down Park Avenue / on that famous thoroughfare / with their noses in the air?"
Quick beats from the drum kit. The bass and piano picked out a jazzy accompaniment.
"Now if you're blue / and you don't know where to go to / Why don't you go where fashion sits? / Kurt's puttin' on the Ritz…"
The melody picked up, Kurt's words coming a bit off-beat in a way that was not unpleasant: "Come, let's mix where Rockefellers / walk with sticks or umbrellas / in their mitts / puttin' on the Ritz…"
The song ended with a muted trumpet chorus, and everyone clapped. Kurt doffed his top hat and bowed deeply.
"Just sensational, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said, still clapping. "You definitely put on the ritz in here."
"It's the sweater," Brittany said.
The suction machine snapped back on, and everyone jumped. Skyler rolled her eyes as the ventilator beeped a warning and her mother suctioned out her breathing tube.
"Sorry, sorry," Susan Howard whispered, hurriedly turning off the suction and resetting the ventilator alarm.
"All right, gang, let's start with our dance number," Mr. Schuester said. "Skyler, have you told your mother much about your sweet moves?"
Skyler smiled.
"I don't know if I want to see it yet," Susan said. "I was hoping for it all to be a surprise at the competition."
"It's up to you," Mr. Schuester said, "but either way we're going to rehearse."
He waved his hands to Brad and the assembled musicians. Immediately the band started tuning, getting their notes in sync as the glee club members took their places.
"This one was inspired by Skyler," Mr. Schuester said to Susan Howard.
He nodded to the band, and music began to fill the choir room. A slow smile crossed Susan's face as she recognized Skyler's favorite song – "Raise Your Glass."
Mr. Schuester had been worried about how to best showcase the abilities and strengths of all of his glee club members, Skyler included. It had been different with Artie – Artie was great about working on his dance moves, and he had a lot more movement in his wheelchair. Skyler's abilities were severely limited, but Mr. Schuester knew it was important for her to be onstage, doing whatever she could do.
So he'd tag-teamed Artie and Skyler. After watching a series of Broadway shows and musicals on DVD, Mr. Schuester had realized that the best thing about their choreography was often the symmetry. Simply put, dance moves looked better when performed by a symmetrical group. Usually this translated to a couple – the hot-stepping male lead and the feisty female lead – but when taken to another level, the chorus numbers looked best in symmetrical groups, generally even numbers of couples. And since Artie and Skyler were both on wheels, they would be a couple. So far, it had worked well. They stayed with each other, alternating sides of the room. And in the auditorium, they handled the ramps on the risers just fine.
As the music pounded through the choir room, the group kept on dancing and singing. Susan Howard watched with tears in her eyes.
Mr. Schuester walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him. "It was never like this with Liz," she said, as the group sang. "With Liz, it was always assumed that she would fit right into a group, that she would be successful. Watching Liz, you're watching someone who knows exactly what she's doing, what she was born to do."
She shook her head.
"What part of party don't you understand?"
"Watching Skyler… it's like watching a butterfly come out of a cocoon. It's difficult and it's a struggle, but she knows where she's going, she knows what she's doing, and when she gets there, it's beautiful."
Susan clasped Mr. Schuester's hand. "Thank you for everything you've done for her. She talks about glee club endlessly – she's been spending far too much time with her father going over arrangements for new songs… you've given her hope."
Mr. Schuester squeezed her hand. The music flowed around them, and the sound of feet pounding on risers provided an organic backbeat. He leaned in to make sure he would be heard. "She's the one who gives me hope, Susan."
And he smiled, and she smiled, and they both watched the singing and dancing swarm of teenagers with tears in their eyes.
After school the kids came hurrying back into the choir room. Mr. Schuester and Susan Howard were standing in between several racks of costumes. The club had voted on a rich, more formal look for sectionals, to accompany the gravitas of the song without words and to emphasize their dance moves in the other two numbers. For their next competition, Mr. Schuester had already thought of a more "fun" look, something lighter, perhaps in a pastel for the guys. His guys looked good in pastels; it was always good to play to your strengths.
But for sectionals the group would be wearing a sedate ensemble, starting with black pumps for the ladies and black lace-ups for the gentlemen. The guys would sport black pants, and black long-sleeved button-downs, accompanied by deep red vests and ties. Kurt had argued for bow ties, but Mr. Schuester – and Puck, Finn, Artie, and Sam – had overruled him.
"Neck ties will be just fine."
"Yeah, no need to make everyone think we're waiters," Puck muttered.
For the ladies, Mr. Schuester was trying something new. "Yes, we've usually stuck to knee-length dresses in a variety of colors," he said, having resolved the neck-tie debate, "but for this I'm thinking we'll go ankle-length."
So they had ordered the ankle-length dresses, a combination of a red that matched the men's costumes and black. The red overskirt was glittery and seemed to catch the light with movement, and a poufy series of tulle underskirts gave the dress shape and body. Two black straps held the dresses up over the ladies' shoulders, and a thin black corset created the waist of the dress.
"These are lovely," Susan said as she handed a dress and a pair of shoes to Brittany. "You'll certainly be the best-looking group up there."
"What about the Lovelies?" Rachel asked, peering over a clothing rack at Susan.
"Oh, the Lovelies have some very traditional costumes," Susan said. "Honestly, sometimes it gets a little boring. Heavy velvet in some sort of boring color… black or navy or dark green. Or a combination of satin and velvet. Sure, they look nice, but there's no pop."
"You'd think Rand Philippe would object," Rachel said.
"Rand? Rand doesn't care for fashion, my dear," Susan said, checking Brittany's name off a list. "Rand is a choreographer and a set designer, and that's as far as things go. He leaves costuming up to the girls, and the girls, for some odd reason, love tradition."
"They can pick anything they want?" Rachel was aghast. "But why doesn't he stop them?"
Susan laughed. "Rand is a wonderful man, Rachel, but he's a bit self-centered."
"He's a lot self-centered," Skyler typed.
"Rand focuses on a few things, usually in this order – himself, his interests, and then, somewhere at the bottom, the Lovelies and choir competitions," Susan went on. "The Lovelies sing well and dance well, but they are hardly imaginative. And Rand's happy as long as they sing and dance well. He could care less about their costumes."
"For a gay man, he's very unfashionable," Skyler said. "He's not like Kurt."
Kurt, having heard his name, stuck his head around the costume rack. "What?"
"You dress well and you look good," Skyler typed.
"Well, thank you," Kurt said, straightening his bow tie.
"Here's your costume," Mr. Schuester said.
"I still think we should have gone with bow ties," Kurt said.
"And I still think there's time for bow ties at regionals," Mr. Schuester said, patting Kurt on the back. "But thanks for expressing your opinion."
"As long as they're not plaid," Kurt said. He shouldered his costume and headed out of the choir room with a quick salute.
The rest of the glee club members filed in and out, picking up their costumes, until only Susan, Skyler, Rachel, and Mr. Schuester remained. "Thanks for the help, Susan," Mr. Schuester said.
"Any time," Susan said, moving one of the clothing racks to the edge of the room. "Your kids will look great, Will."
"Mom," Skyler typed.
"Yeah, Sky?"
Skyler glanced back towards her computer, but choked and gagged, setting off the ventilator alarm. Susan hurried over to suction her trach tube.
"Was that what you wanted?" Susan asked once Skyler's airway was clear.
"No," Skyler typed. "I don't think my feet are going to fit in those shoes."
She moved her glance significantly to the pair of pumps in Rachel's hands.
"We got special shoes for you," Susan said, stroking her daughter's hair.
"Right here," Mr. Schuester agreed, holding up a pair of black ballet slippers.
"What happens if… if that happens onstage?" Rachel asked.
"If I hold up a pair of ballet slippers?" Mr. Schuester asked.
"Um, no, although that would probably be a bit strange," Rachel said. "I mean, if she needs… that."
"Oh, suctioning?" Susan asked.
"I guess we didn't think about that," Mr. Schuester said, giving Susan a look.
"It's not like we can stop," Rachel said. "That would definitely cost us points."
"We do what we have to do, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.
"We'll make sure we clean her out really well before we go to the competition," Susan said. "Coughing, the Vest, chest PT, two series of nebulizers – the whole shebang."
Rachel had no idea what that meant. "But you still can't…"
"Thanks for talking about me like I'm not here," Skyler typed.
"Sky, you know that I'll involve you in everything we do," Susan said. "But Rachel's never… dealt with someone with your types of needs. It's normal for her to be worried about what might happen."
"I love your song," Rachel said, turning towards Skyler. "And I love what you bring to the club. But I wouldn't want you to get hurt."
"And you definitely wouldn't want me to embarrass you in front of the judges," Skyler typed.
"That's not what I meant!"
Skyler rolled her eyes and sighed over her ventilator. "It's not what you meant, but it's what you expressed. Are you sure you want me onstage with you at all? I mean, they might think the New Directions is some sort of charity glee club, taking any and all rejects."
"Sky!" Susan said.
Skyler typed furiously. "I'm sorry, Mom, but for the first time in glee club I felt like I was just one of the group, like I wasn't some sort of special ed case who was just tolerated because my father knew somebody. And now I'm finding out that's not true? Well, maybe I'll just go join the Lovelies."
"You wouldn't," Rachel said.
Skyler paused, and the sound of the ventilator was the only noise in the room.
"Skyler, we don't want you to feel like you don't belong," Mr. Schuester said.
"How could I possibly feel like I belong?" Skyler typed. "Everyone seems to think that I'm not a real person, like what I feel doesn't matter at all. If you just want me for my song but you don't accept me as a person, then how can I feel good about sharing it with you?"
She engaged her wheelchair's drive function and rolled out of the room.
For a moment no one spoke.
Then Susan said, "She's just as feisty as Liz, when she gets passionate about something."
She picked up Skyler's dress and ballet slippers. "I'll talk to her," she said.
"I'm so sorry," Rachel said.
"Don't apologize," Susan said. "Skyler's just had a rough week. Being sick is hard on her. It makes her feel more alienated from other people – all the treatments and the medical stuff. And she just wants to fit in."
"I shouldn't have said anything," Rachel said. "It's none of my business if she needs help onstage. Or offstage."
Susan gave Rachel a smile. "You are a friend to Skyler, and deep down, she knows that."
She collected Skyler's backpack and music stand, and prepared to head out of the room. "Thanks, Will. We'll see you tomorrow."
When she had gone, Rachel turned to Mr. Schuester. "I messed up."
"The fact that you can admit that is very big of you, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.
"Is the auditorium free?" Rachel asked.
"I think so," Mr. Schuester said, checking his watch. "The jazz band was going to be done by three-thirty."
"I'll be back to get my costume in a bit," Rachel said, and slipped out of the choir room.
The jazz band had vacated the auditorium, and Rachel crept down the darkened stairs on velvet feet. The grand piano sat in the spotlight, gleaming blackly against the polished hardwood of the stage.
She sat down on the piano bench and scooted it closer to the keys. For a moment her hands hovered over the keys, and the air seemed to hum with unnoticed vibrations.
Then the words came to her, and she began to sing. "Fight hard on a night like this / look for a star and wish / you could get out of it…"
The auditorium door opened quietly, and Mr. Schuester let Skyler roll into the back, near the soundboard. "She always comes here when she's feeling guilty," he whispered to the blond girl.
Skyler took her finger off the switch driving her chair, and she focused her attention on the brunette at the piano.
"Bite down and then pray, pray, pray / you'll make it through this to sing and say / you hold life dear," Rachel sang. "Moments turn to hours that turn to years / and now I'm…"
"Far from here / and we are happy / far from here / we are all right / far from here, things are peaceful / far from here, we have insight / far from here / we've detangled / our strangled hold / and I hope to see you there."
"She plays beautifully," Susan whispered to Skyler.
And it was a beautiful song, Skyler had to admit.
Rachel played on, ignorant of her small audience. "Rise high / out of this whole scene / look down / and separate yourself / from your worst dream / then fly far / and stay, stay, stay / out of the way / until the coast is clear…"
Her fingers danced over the keys, and she swayed and played and sang, her eyes closed.
When it was over, she paused for a moment with her fingers hovering over the keys, as if she couldn't decide whether or not to sing another verse.
In the silence Skyler focused her eyes on her communication device, and typed hurriedly. "Apology accepted" boomed out into the empty auditorium.
Rachel looked up. "What are you…?"
"Mr. Schuester convinced me to give you another chance," Skyler typed. "And I'm glad I did."
She smiled her tiny smile, and typed, "See you tomorrow."