By Very Definition Chapter 20: After Practice, a glee fanfic

BY VERY DEFINITION

20. After Practice

"How are things going with the baby?" Kurt asked Parker as they headed out to the Football field for Cheerios practice.

"It's going good." The girl said, adjusting her red gloves, "Rhonda and James loved all the clothes you picked out for Whitney, of course. And now that Whitney's room is all decorated and she's settled in, everything is settling into what I suspect is normal." They joined the rest of the Cheerios, many of which were holding batons, and waited for instructions. It had been over a week since little Whitney Grace Pierson was born and everything in Lima was starting to calm down. Quinn was due back at school any day, Whitney was being well-loved, Glee Club had returned to normal, and for the past couple of days a few boys from the basketball team had shown up to watch the Cheerios practice. One of whom was none other than Tate Hanson.

"Okay kids, get into your positions, pronto!" Ms. Sylvester shouted into her megaphone, "Full rehearsal, let's get it moving!" Everyone rushed to their spots and took up their starting positions. The Cheerios combined cheering with singing and dancing, it was quiet a workout. Because even when Kurt and Parker were singing they were still part of the Choreography.

Kurt ((Parker)) Both

"There's only two types of people in the world
The ones that entertain and the ones that observe
((Well baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kind of girl
Don't like the backseat, gotta be first))

I'm a like the ringleader, I call the shots
((Call the shots))
I'm like a firecracker I make it hot
When I put on a show

I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins
Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break
I'm like a performer, the dancefloor is my stage
Better be ready, hope that you feel the same

All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor just like a circus

((There's only two types of guys out there
Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared))
So baby, I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship so beware

((I'm a like the ringleader, I call the shots))
Call the shots
((I'm like a firecracker, I make it hot
When I put on a show))

I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins
Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break
((I'm like a performer, the dancefloor is my stage
Better be ready, hope that you feel the same))

((Let's go
Let me see what you can do
I'm runnin' this like-like-like a circus
Yeah, like a what? Like-like-like a circus))

All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor just like a circus

((All eyes on me in the center of the ring)) just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor just like a circus"

"This isn't a middle school Pep rally!" Sue Sylvester belted into the megaphone, everyone dropped their last poses and looked at her, still breathing heavily from the routine, "You're all dancing around on spaghetti legs out there! Show me how real Cheerios do it!" It was in that manner that the rest of the practice went. As soon as they were finished for the day Ms. Sylvester went on the megaphone one last time, "Twiggy, I need to see you front and center!" With a gentle, encouraging nudge from Kurt, Parker picked up her backpack and walked across the field. She nervously went up the stairs to the bleachers. She walked in between the chain link barrier and the first row of seats until she stood in front of the coach, who watched the young girl approach with her hands on her hips.

"Coach?" She asked, trying not to sound timid. Coach Sylvester, for the first time in Parker's memory, didn't look angry. Her eyes and face were softer than the girl had ever seen them.

"I received something in my school mailbox today that was addressed to you." She took an envelope out of her warm-up suit pocket and handed it to Parker, "See? Parker Evans, Care of Coach Sue Sylvester, McKinley High School." Parker took the envelope and looked it over before opening it. Inside was a stiff piece of cardboard paper, it was white and glossy. Parker read it:

Whitney Kay Allistar
1998-2010

Please join us in remembering our daughter at her memorial service this Thursday at three. Meet us at the Lima Baptist Church. We are hoping to share Whitney's loving memory.
Please call to RSVP

Above the writing there was a glossy photo of a young girl. Her face was full, her skin was clear, her eyes were bright and healthy. Her hair was brown like her little sister's, and it was curly. Parker bit her lip, unsure of how to feel. On one hand, I'm really happy to be invited. But on the other hand I didn't know Whitney very well, it wouldn't feel right for me to be there. But then again...her mother said that Whitney never had very many friends, and in a way she was really important to me. I know that sounds weird but I felt like I knew her. She wanted to be a Cheerio.

"I'm very sorry about the trouble it took you to get this to me." Parker said weakly.

"Look, kid. I know I'm cold-hearted and intimidating, as I should be. But if there's something wrong, a Cheerio can come to me about it. You know that?" Coach Sylvester said, her voice carefully measured.

"Thanks." Parker said quietly, not feeling like she could share any more with the determined cheerleading coach.

"Well, go on then, hit the showers." Coach Sylvester said as she brushed past the small girl. Parker stayed on the bleachers, sitting down in the first row while pulling her cell phone out of her bag. She looked at the paper and dialed the designated phone number at the bottom. She nervously tapped her foot against the metal floor as she heard the phone ringing on the other end.

"Hello?" A woman's voice answered finally, making Parker jump.

"Hello. Mrs. Allistar? I'm Parker Evans, we met at the hospital the other day."

"Yes, I remember you." Mrs. Allistar said in a friendly tone, "I take it you got your invitation?"

"Yes, I did. But..." Parker hesitated, "I'm not sure if I'm coming or not. I didn't know Whitney very well."

"Whitney didn't have many friends, and I could tell by your face that that little girl got to you. It would really mean a lot to her if you came. And what's more," she continued, "Gracie really likes you."

"I guess I could go..." Parker muttered.

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Allistar said, "And not to take advantage but Grace really liked that song you sang for her the other day, and we were thinking that it'd be really nice if you could do something like that again. You could prepare a nice song about Whitney in her honor and sing it at the memorial service. It would really mean a lot to us." Parker was silent for a beat, unsure of what to say.

"What would you like me to sing?" She asked finally.

"Anything that seems like Whitney to you. And don't say that you didn't know her well enough, if you knew her even for a moment you knew who she was. Sing something about her." The mother begged.

"I'll see what I can do." Parker said dully.

"Thank you! We'll see you on Thursday! And remember: Whitney wouldn't like it if everyone showed up wearing black." And Mrs. Allistar hung up. Parker sat with the phone in her hands for several more seconds before closing it and replacing the device back in her bag. The Cheerio sighed and closed her eyes, slumping her shoulders. She had to find a song that described a girl she barely knew and she had to do it in three days. The sounds of footsteps on metal alerted her to someone's approach. She opened her eyes slowly but didn't change her position, and she saw Tate Hanson sit down next to her.

"Don't listen to her." He said casually, "We've all agreed that you guys were great out there. Coach must have been pulling your leg." Parker didn't say anything, or even glance at him. Tate shifted awkwardly before trying again. "So, the afternoon before the game this week a bunch of us from the team are going for Pizza. And we're inviting some of the Cheerios to come, too." Parker still didn't say anything, so Tate pressed on, "And since you're probably the most popular girl in school I was wondering if you wanted to come with us." Parker's head tilted and her eyes snapped to him.

"You think I'm the most popular girl in school?" She asked in surprise.

"Well, yeah." Tate answered with at 'duh' gesture, "Technically, it started when you refused to be slushied, that was pretty cool of you. And now you're like...a Cheerio. A very vital and talented Cheerio, I might add."

"Huh." Parker said, trying to sound offhand but she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, "That actually sounds like fun. What day is this week's game?"

"Thursday." Tate said promptly, Parker felt her heart sink.

"I can't." She said, abruptly standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder, the envelope and invitation were still clutched in her left hand.

"Whoa, whoa. What's up?" The basketball player stood with her, holding up his hands in surrender.

"I have plans, maybe some other time." Parker said, brushing by him and headed toward the steps.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked after her, "I mean, you seemed happy about it a minute ago, and now you've completely closed down. You did the same thing at the Basketball game when you got hit in the nose." Parker stopped walking, her vision fixed on her feet.

"I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind lately." She said quietly.

"So you wanna talk about it?" Tate asked kindly, coming closer from behind her.

"I just," Parker wheeled around and met his eyes, "Quinn Fabray had her baby, you know. And my foster parents adopted her. Quinn still lives with us, and she's going through a really confusing time right now."

"I guess that's why you didn't like me talking about her the other day." The boy said ruefully.

"Yeah, sure." Parker said breathlessly, "And I really want to go for Pizza with everyone, but I have something else to do." She held out the invitation for him to look at. He took it from her and looked at the picture, along with the title underneath.

"Whitney Kay Allistar." He read aloud, then he held it up so that Parker could see the picture, "Who's this?"

"She's a little girl that I met while waiting in the Hospital." Parker answered without infliction, "She was so sweet. But she had a tumor that they couldn't remove and she died just a few hours after I met her. I passed a message from her along to her family, and now they've invited me to go to the memorial service. And they want me to sing a song."

"What song?"

"They left that up to me. Problem is: I didn't know her. So the service is this Thursday and I've got to prepare a song by then."

"But it's already Monday." Tate said thickly.

"I know." Parker said with a sardonic nod, "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Here," Tate sighed, handing the invitation back, "I'll help you." He started moving to get off the bleachers and Parker had to jog to keep up with him.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I mean that I'll help you find a song. You tell me about Whitney, and I'll help you pick a song to sing at her memorial service."

"You don't have to do that..." Parker started.

"I want to." Tate insisted, "And if you need someone to go to the service with you, you know, for support..."

"I'll get Kurt to go with me."

"But I'm offering first."

"You should go have pizza with your friends." Parker argued. Tate glanced down at her with the tiniest of smiles.

"Somehow, I think this is just a little more important." He said gently, he took Parker's hand and started to lead her across the football field, and Parker stopped arguing with him.

Song: "Circus" by Brittney Spears (it just screamed "CHEERIOS" to me)

The next chapter will have more of the original Glee Characters.

Actually I'm kind of thinking about writing a FictionPress story about Parker's life before moving to Lima, after this story is done). I think that'd be fun.

Anyway...

Hit it! You know you want it!

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