So evidently Mercedes is not pregnant. Here's another explanation for her behaviour. Starts place right after she left the auditorium.
Mercedes sat in the rubber sling of a seat and walked backwards as far as she could. She reached the chain link's limit, let go and swung free. She remembered to tuck her feet under her, she was much taller than the average user, but pointed her toes straight forward as soon as they were clear. She swung, higher and higher, her eyes shut tightly, her hair whipping in the breeze. She had earphones on but she wasn't listening to music, she wasn't listening to anything but the blood pounding in her ears, the wind whistling past her face. It was late, dinner time, and the playground was empty. She didn't hear the car pull into the parking lot. She didn't see the tall thin boy walk over to the swings. She just swung, higher and higher. Maybe high enough to fly away from here. The boy sat on the next swing and waited.
"Mercedes." he said after watching her for 10 minutes.
"Yes?"
"Can you please stop for a minute?"
"No."
"Please? I want to talk to you."
She coasted to a stop.
"Where are your friends?"
"Blaine's drove me over. He's waiting in the car."
"And your best friend?"
"I don't know. You want to talk to Rachel?"
"No." she said with a short bitter laugh "I don't want to talk to Rachel. Why are you here?"
"I wanted to ask you how you feel. If your Crohn's is flaring up. If they put you on prednisone again and that's why your weight is fluctuating. If you're going to be okay."
"How'd you guess?" she asked, staring at her feet.
"I didn't, not at first. To tell you the truth I wasn't even paying attention, I was talking to Blaine. You were walking out when I looked over. They said I've known you the longest, had I ever seen you act that way? Then I remembered the last time this happened, how sick you got."
"Crohn's won't kill me." she let the swing drift back and forth. "You didn't tell them, did you? I don't want them to walk around going 'poor sick Mercedes'."
"You'd rather have them think you're a diva bitch?"
"A fat, lazy, diva bitch." she corrected him. "My coach, or should I say my ex-coach, already thinks that. Apparently most of the club agrees with him." she drifted for a few more minutes. "I can't go back, even if he lets me in. I should have skipped the whole thing. I've been feeling like shit ever since he called me out in the middle of class. That's why I was late, trying to work up the nerve to go in and face him. It's not worth it. I actually feel better now." She drifted some more. "I've been thinking of quitting for a long time. I could have been more diplomatic but...it's just not fun anymore. Rachel would be all over me for lack of dedication, but I'm allowed to have fun, to sing just for fun. I'm not risking a hospitalization just to stand behind her and sway. I'm trying to figure out what to do next."
"Did you try praying?"
She stopped and stared at him "Don't patronize me. I know you don't believe in that."
"No, I don't. But I thought you did. If you do, now's the time, don't you think?" He looked up as the streetlights flicked on. "Blaine prays, only he calls it meditation, but it's the same thing, I think."
"Well, if Blaine does it that must make it okay." she mumbled under her breath.
"Huh?"
"I said, I didn't know Blaine was religious."
"More spiritual than religious but yes, he is." He was gazing at the streetlight, looking strangely like an angel as the sodium vapor light lit his pale face. "He tried to teach me how, just empty your mind and listen he said." He looked at Mercedes. "It didn't work. That's hard for me to do, to just sit still and listen. Push everything aside."
"So what do you do? When you're sad and lonely?"
"Rachel and Blaine. Mostly Blaine. I know it sounds sappy but Blaine," he sighed softly "I can call him anytime and he always sounds happy to hear from me. I'm not sure how he does it, a lot of people find me irritating." He chuckled.
"You? Irritating? Naw, not you!" she laughed. "So things are good with you guys?"
"I love him, he loves me. What more could I ask for?"
"And your best friend? Things okay there?"
"We're fine. Her irritating habits balance mine, I guess."
"Oh."
"You don't like Rachel, do you?"
"I can take her or leave her. You like her, she's your best friend after all, so it's only important that you like her."
"That's the third time you've said that. Your best friend. Why?"
"I don't know. Jealous I guess. I don't know." She looked at her watch and jumped up. "I didn't realize it was so late. They'll be worried! Blaine's probably freezing in the car." She started heading towards the parking lot.
"Mercedes!" She stopped and waited for him to catch up. "Can I come over and visit you on Saturday? Just to talk?"
"Sure." He probably didn't mean it, he's just being polite. Whatevs.
Saturday afternoon
One thing I know
And I've always known
I am my own
Best friend
Baby's alive
But baby's alone
And baby's her own
Best friend
Many's the guy
Who told me he cares
But they were scratchin' my back
'Cause I was scratchin' theirs
And trusting to luck
That's only for fools
I play in a game
Where I make the rules
And rule number one
From here to the end
Is 'I am my own
Best friend'
Three musketeers
Who never say die
Are standing here this minute
Me,
Myself
And I!
If life is a school
I'll pass every test
If life is a game
I'll play it the best
'Cause I won't give in
and I'll never bend
and I am my own
best friend!
"Jesus, Kurt, how long you been standing there?" Mercedes put down the paint roller she was holding and removed her earphones. "How'd you even get in here?"
"Your mom let me in. She called you but I guess you didn't hear. She told me to go on up. You were really into it. Chicago?"
"Shit!" she looked to see if her mother was within earshot. "Could I have been singing something more pathetic? I'm my own best friend. Just pathetic. Where are your friends?"
"It's just me. I came here to visit you. I asked you the other day if it was okay." He sat on the edge of the bed.
"I thought you were just being polite." She pulled on a pair of sweatpants to cover her bare legs. "I mean, what are we supposed to talk about?"
"I don't know. We can start with the color you're painting this room. I don't recognize the color you're painting over. I guess I haven't been here in a long time."
"That? That was from the spring. Sam..." she stopped for a second. "I don't like it anymore. I'm going back to purple, like sunsets. Do you think it's going to be too dark?"
"You and Sam were that serious? That you redecorated and now you're trying to erase him?"
"I guess we had a difference of opinion on what 'serious' means." She sat down next to him. "Anyway, this color was erasing Quinn. I don't like it anymore."
"That's a lot of erasing."
"Yeah, well. Enough about me. How's your application going?"
"Not very well. I'd be shocked to win the class president election, West Side Story didn't work out. I don't know what I'm going to put down on the application."
"Why would a performing arts school even care about class president? Don't you have to audition or something? Don't they want to hear your voice before they decide?"
Kurt looked at her and smiled. "Why didn't I think of that! All this time I've been stressing and you hit the answer just like that!" He hugged her. "That's why I love you!"
"Love's a big word for such a small idea. But thank you anyway."
"Well, you deserve it. What should I sing? Something flashy or something simple?"
"Not too flashy, it gets distracting, but you do want to show off your range. Probably Blaine can help, he's good at that. He was in charge of the Warblers, wasn't he?"
"Technically no, but they liked him a lot and did most of what he asked."
"See, problem solved, simple as that!"
"And you, have you decided what you're going to do without glee?"
"Not so simple. I'll come up with something. You meditate on it and let me know if an idea floats by."
Sunday morning
Kurt told her to pray about the problem and ironically enough the answer came to her at church. She was leading the children's service along with Alice McKenna, a guitarist, and Tim DeCastro, Alice's friend who was also a guitarist as well as a singer. Alice played while Mercedes and Tim taught the children songs. Then Mercedes would read bible stories.
She'd been singing with Tim for a couple of years and only today realized how deep his voice was. He had a really nice baritone, almost as nice as Artie's, maybe even a little deeper. Mercedes always thought of Alice, her twin brother Ben and Tim as being "from church" when actually all three go to McKinley. She asked him to stay after the service.
"Tim, did you ever think of joining McKinley's glee club?" she asked as she picked up her sheet music.
"Yes and no. Yes I thought about it, and no I'm not joining."
"Why not?"
"I'm in band and play at your meetings. Waste 'o time." He grinned at Alice.
"Sorry, Mercedes. You've got to admit it's pretty disorganized." She put her guitar back in its case. "Plus, why do you care? Didn't clueless Schue show you the door?"
"I don't know. It was kinda fun at the beginning and they need members."
"And you think if you drag one in they'll take you back?" Tim asked. The thought had crossed her mind.
"You know what?" Alice asked. "Brad's putting together something for diversity day. Gospel. He wants to try a gospel choir but he needs somebody to sing. You two can sing and we can dig up some backup for you. Let's talk to Brad on Monday."
Thursday afternoon
"I didn't even know McKinley had a Gospel Choir." Will whispered to Emma who was sitting next to him in the auditorium.
"We didn't. It's new, Mercedes and Brad, the band director, put it together just for this. Doesn't Mercedes sound good? And the boy singing with her, Tim? Last person I would have thought was religious. He's in my office all the time for one thing or another. And two of those girls used to call themselves Skanks, and proud of it. Can you imagine calling yourself a Skank?"
Will wondered how Mercedes had rounded up a half dozen singers so quickly. Will tried for racial diversity, but he'd just lost the only black singer they had. Mercedes had pulled together a diverse group of singers in less than a week. Tim, the co-lead was Asian. Three of the four girls were black and the fourth was white. One boy was black, one was white. And they sounded good, polished. Like they'd done a lot of work in one week. Maybe she was right, she didn't need him.
A month later
"So, how were Sectionals?" Mercedes asked over the phone.
"Not good." Kurt answered as the bus bumped along the highway. "Second place. It was almost a photo finish, half point between us. Rachel is demanding a recount." he whispered the last part into the phone. He shifted Blaine's head that was resting on his shoulder. "Everybody is in a bad mood. I think secretly they're mad at Schuester. They're thinking that you could have given us that extra push."
"I'm sorry." Mercedes shooed Alice away from the quiet corner she was in. "But maybe next year."
"That's too late for me but I guess so. I sent off that audition CD. Wish me luck."
"You're gonna kill them. Then I can crash in your dorm room when I visit New York. Which I intend to do all the time since I'll have a place to stay."
"Deal! If I'm there it's because of your bright idea."
"Hey, I gotta go now. Call me when you get home. Love ya!"
"Love you more!" At that Blaine opened his eyes and looked up at Kurt.
"It's Mercedes." he said putting the phone back in his pocket. "She just called to find out how we did."
"Oh, how did she do?"
"Damn, I forgot to ask her." he said, remembering the reason why she didn't watch Sectionals.
"Mercedes!" he said when she answered her phone. "How did you do at the Gospel competition."
"Pretty good." he could hear her smiling over the phone.
"How good? Top 10?"
"Yup!"
"Top 5?"
"Un hum."
"Top 3?"
"You're getting warmer!"
"Two?"
"Warmer!"
"Oh my god! You're kidding!" he squealed.
"I'm shocked myself." she laughed. "We're at Breadsticks celebrating."
"Oh god, I'm so happy for you! Now everybody's asking me what happened. I don't know if they'll be happy or jealous but you so deserve this! What happens next?"
"Well, we're Ohio state champions. The National judges will look at our performance, and we can submit another video, which we probably will, and then 10 teams are invited to Nationals. All expenses paid. That is If we get invited."
"That's so fantastic! You know, maybe I'll give that prayer thing a whirl."
"Meditation. Call it meditation if that suits you better."
Crohn's disease is chronic but not fatal, aggravated by stress and it flares up and goes into remission. They treat it with prednisone, a steroid which can cause you to gain a lot of weight in a short period of time. Either the actress is wearing a fat suit in Purple Piano of she lost 20 pounds between that episode and Asian F.
Who knows what the writers of Asian F had in mind but here's one explanation.