Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay between updates. I just started a new job, and my family is dealing with some health issues. I hope to get this fic wrapped up within the next couple of chapters or so. Thanks for reading!
"You did it guys. You won Sectionals."
Puck watched as Mr. Schu raised the trophy they had won over the weekend high above his head.
Each glee club member clapped appreciatively at the symbol of their great achievement, while Kurt wiped away tears of joy from his eyes.
For a while, Puck hadn't been sure that they would have been able to pull off the victory.
The past week had been tense, to say the least.
Puck had been avoiding Finn, Quinn had been avoiding him, and Rachel had been avoiding both of them. Artie and Tina had had some kind of argument and weren't getting along, Mercedes had been clashing with Rachel, Santana and Britney were in their own little world being secretive about something, and Finn was preoccupied with worrying about a kid that wasn't his (Puck had to admit that that last one was totally his bad).
At Sectionals, Puck had gotten so nervous when he saw those juvie girls belting their hearts out while shakin' what their mamas gave them. And while listening to those deaf kids honking, Puck had to admit that he was moved by their performance (damn his emotions).
Puck had thought that New Directions would for sure get their asses kicked and then promptly handed back to them.
Rachel had saved it for the group though. Her ballad had been amazing. Puck had wanted to tell her how impressed he was after the performance, but she hadn't given him the chance. Not that he could blame her for walking away; he had screwed up big time.
Now that Sectionals was over, Puck was worried because there was really no reason for Rachel to keep quiet about his secret anymore. He knew that it was only a matter of time before her conscience got the better of her; forcing her to spill her guts to Finn. Puck was fully expecting Finn to show up to school one day and just start swinging at his face. That's why Puck continued to work on his biceps by lifting weights; you know, in case he needed to defend himself by bringing out the gun show.
So far, Finn had said nothing and Rachel continued to avoid his gaze.
Mr. Schu gave the trophy one last good shake, and then he set it down on the floor.
"I can't begin to tell you just how proud I am of all of you. You worked hard and it paid off. But…"
Why is there always a but? Puck thought.
Mr. Schu continued, "But…Regionals is right around the corner. The competition is going to be like nothing like you have ever seen before. These other teams eat, sleep, and breathe glee club. They have the songs, the choreography, the experience, and the determination to win."
"Way to harsh our mellow Mr. Schu," Artie called from his chair.
"Sorry, I'm not trying to freak you guys out. I'm only trying to prepare you for the hard work that is to come."
"You really think we have a shot against those other teams?" Mercedes asked.
Mr. Schu turned his head; looking at every single student in the eye. "Absolutely."
Tina (whose stutter, Puck noticed, had seemingly disappeared) was feeling pessimistic. "You said so yourself. They will have more experience and training. What do we have to use against them?"
Mr. Schu clutched both hands to his chest. "Heart. You have heart. You are all different individuals who bring unique talents to the table."
He gestured to Brittany, Santana, and Mike. "We have great dancers." He pointed towards Puck and Artie, "Great musicians." He looked at Rachel and Mercedes, "And I think a few of you can even sing." The whole group let out a relieved laugh.
Mr. Schu knitted his fingers together. "The point of this little speech is that you guys are stronger together than you are apart. But…"
Puck rolled his eyes. Oh great, another but.
"I've noticed some friction within the group for the past few weeks. Does any one want to tell me what's been going on?"
The students shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.
Mr. Schu let the silence stretch on for a bit longer before breaking it himself. "I thought that might be your answer. So, I have come up with a little exercise for us to try." Mr. Schu grabbed a cowboy hat and some paper from his small side office in the choir room.
Puck was intrigued. He had a fondness for cowboy hats because he could totally rock one.
He watched as Mr. Schu ripped the paper into strips, and then passed one out to each student. When everyone had one, Mr. Schu returned to the center of the room.
"Okay guys, here is what I want you to do. On your slip of paper, I want you to write down the thing in your life right now that is preventing you from reaching your full potential. You could write down a fear, a worry, a hope, a dream, or a secret."
Mr. Schu failed to notice that half the group flinched at the mention of the word "secret."
Kurt gave voice to what the whole class was thinking. "No offense, but I don't feel comfortable doing that." He pointed to the intercom and gestured around the room. "Big brother is always watching, and I don't want anyone knowing my business."
"Everyone in this school already knows you're gay Kurt," Finn said.
"I could have other business," Kurt mumbled.
"Hold on," Mr. Schu intervened. "You don't have to sign your names; your responses will be anonymous. I just want you to have a chance to identify and then try to move past some obstacle in your life."
"What are we going to do with the pieces of paper when we're done?" Santana wondered.
"I'm glad you asked." Mr. Schu walked to the door and retrieved the metal trashcan. "Once you write down your answers, I will put them all in this trashcan and we will light them on fire. That will symbolize your letting go of whatever it is that may be holding you back."
Puck raised his hand. "Uh, I know firsthand, that the administration doesn't allow us to start fires on school grounds. I thought it was just frowned upon if you did, but apparently it's really illegal. They could sic the po-po on you."
"Good point Puck. However, this room has a fire extinguisher. And, we will open the windows. Plus, I know that the school's fire alarms are currently disabled due to budget cuts. Anyways, let's get started."
The glee club members groaned in displeasure.
"I thought you guys wanted to win Regionals. I guess I was wrong. I might as well call the coach of Vocal Adrenaline and offer my congratulations now."
Rachel tried to smooth things over. "If we have to write on these papers, then so do you. You're a big part of our team, and you said that we all need to work together."
"Fair enough." Mr. Schu grabbed an extra slip of paper and began to scribble.
Reluctantly, the glee members picked up their pens and began to write.
Puck didn't know what the hell he wanted to put.
He thought about putting down his favorite dirty limerick, playing tic-tac-toe, or practicing his signature.
When everyone else was finishing up, Puck quickly wrote down the first words that popped into his head. After reading back the words, he was surprised that he had written them and even more surprised that he actually meant them. He wondered what Rachel would think if she read them too.
Mr. Schu passed the hat around, and collected the papers. He grabbed the hat back, and reached for the pack of matches that was sitting atop the piano.
"Who's ready to light these suckers?" Mr. Schu shouted trying to excite the group as he positioned the hat over the trashcan, getting ready to dump the papers out.
Puck tried to meet Rachel's eyes, but she refused to turn her head in his direction. Puck wasn't paying attention to the front of the room, until he heard a voice from the hallway.
"William, I can't believe you are actually trying to torch a place of learning. That's a violation of any number of things: school rules, state laws, and the moral code given to us by the big gal up there," Sue Sylvester said pointing skyward.
She entered the room. "Not that I haven't thought of setting this place ablaze myself a time a two. But I certainly wouldn't do it during the middle of the day, and with so many witnesses." Sue looked around the room with an accusatory stare. "Not that I couldn't dispose of them," she murmured, "but it could get messy; and I hate messy. Damn kids and their copious amounts of body fluids."
"What do you want Sue?" Mr. Schu pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He could feel a headache coming on.
"Principal Figgins requests your presence in his office."
"Again? What is it this time?"
"Apparently, he's having trouble putting together a 3-D puzzle. Someone on the staff may have mentioned that a certain man-child with poodle hair might be good at playing with toys. Anyways, he wants you there right away."
Sue glanced at the floor and noticed the clubs' trophy.
"Hey gang, congrats on the win. I heard you danced and sang your pathetic little hearts out. Way to beat out a bunch of delinquents and the physically handicapped; it's like you almost defeated one whole opponent. Your trophy is almost as big as the one I won in the third grade spelling bee. I spent every night for one year reading the dictionary alphabetically. It was fun times when I finally reached the Q's. Go ahead; ask me to spell a word, any word."
Mr. Schuester manipulated his hands in a certain way behind Sue's back and made the kids smirk.
"That is not a word William; that is a gesture, an inappropriate gesture…that hair gel must be seeping into your brain if you don't know the difference. Hope it doesn't cause too much permanent damage."
Sue turned to face him, "I'm going to be M-A-G-N-A-N-I-M-O-U-S, and let that slide." Sue slowly emphasized each letter of the word as she spelled it.
"I'm going to call Figgins and let him know this is a bad time," Mr. Schu said walking over to the black phone on the wall that could be used to call the office.
"Don't touch that dial. If you don't go right now, I can guarantee that you won't get paid next week," Sue warned.
"You can't do that," he responded.
Sue shrugged. "I have friends in high places, William. It would be a shame if someone in the office accidentally misplaced your check for a time. Look on the bright side, the less money you have in your bank account means the less money you will have to pay your soon-to-be ex-wife in the divorce settlement."
Mr. Schu's face curled into a snarl.
"Too soon?" Sue asked innocently.
Mr. Schu slammed the hat down. "I will be back in less than ten minutes," he said addressing the class.
"Watch yourself," he said pointing to Sue as he headed out the door.
"I always do," Sue called back, "The mirror worships me."
After listening to Mr. Schu's footsteps fade down the hallway, Sue immediately took notice of the hat.
"What do we have here? An unfortunate choice of headwear filled with tiny scraps of paper?"
Since no one else jumped in, Santana quickly offered an explanation for the exercise.
"That man watches entirely too much Oprah," Sue commented.
"Should we open up Pandora's Box and see what secrets are revealed?" Sue said reaching into the hat.
"Excuse me, Ms. Sylvester," Quinn spoke up, "But we were told that our responses would remain anonymous."
"How Q-U-I-X-O-T-I-C of you Q," Sue chuckled. "Nothing stays hidden in high school. I can just imagine what your hormone-addled brains wrote down."
Sue mimicked an empty-headed girl with a high voice, "The doctor says the itch will go away in a week."
Sue then imitated a baritone, "I drank so much that I puked on myself and then passed out. It was awesome."
Puck had to admit that he was curious about what everyone else had written. He was glad that his piece of paper was tucked away safely in his pocket because there was no way in hell that he would have ever put it in that damn hat.
"I don't think it's a good idea either…" Rachel started to say when Sue grabbed a paper and began to read aloud and drown her out.
"I wish I had a boyfriend," Sue said.
Puck looked around the room to gauge people's reactions, and he saw Kurt's face turn beet red.
Rachel saw the same thing Puck had and said to the entire group, "I think that's a sweet notion."
"Boring," Sue muttered, "Unless it's Mr. Schu's." She threw the paper into the trash can.
She took another slip.
"I wish I had a boyfriend…" she read.
This time Mercedes looked to be the guilty party.
"Pathetic," Sue added.
Once again, she reached into the hat.
"Cashmere, mascara, hairspray…what the heck is this?"
Brittany slowly raised her hand. "That's my wish-list for Christmas. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to write. When Mr. Schu talks for a long time, sometimes I forget to listen."
"Understandable," Sue nodded, "But I don't think you got the memo…" she cupped her hands around her mouth and said loudly, "Santa's not real! If a fat, jolly man came down my chimney and tried to give me presents, I wouldn't call him a beloved children's character, I would call him a pedophile."
"Scrooge," Brittany accused.
"Well, if having a wreath made of boiled bones outside my door makes me a Scrooge, then I say Bah-Humbug."
This exercise was not nearly as much fun as Sue thought. Trying to expedite the process, she began reading the scraps of paper in rapid succession.
"I like being Head Bitch in Charge and no one better stand in my way." (Santana)
"I feel like I never have anything to say." (Shaft and Other Asian)
"My team has the stuff to go all the way, and I hope I can take them there." (Mr. Schu)
"I don't really stutter." (Tina)
"Sometimes I can still walk in my dreams." (Artie)
"I'm tired of feeling like a failure. I want things to go back to the way they were." (Finn)
There were only two papers left. After making some quick judgments, Puck guessed that Rachel and Quinn's responses were the ones that were left. These were the two that he was most interested in.
Sue took a deep breath before reading the next one. It said:
"I know I shouldn't care, but I want people to like me."
That had to be Rachel's. Puck knew that she talked a big game, but when it came right down to it, Rachel often felt like she wasn't completely part of the group. He certainly hadn't helped to make her feel included; instead he had begged her to keep his secret at the expense of their…whatever the hell it was that they had.
"Boo hoo," Sue pretend sobbed. "No one understands me, I don't feel loved. I don't have any friends. These complaints are pathetic. Try having your mother ration out hugs—two per year, and one on Groundhog's day if that stupid little creature didn't see his shadow—during your childhood. Now that's rough."
Scraping the bottom of the hat, Sue pulled out the final paper.
"Finally, here's an interesting one."
Sue paused for dramatic emphasis.
"Puck is the father of my baby."
All the eyes in the room darted over to Quinn, who was sitting surprisingly still, almost as if she was finally resigned to her fate.
Sue was the first to break the uncomfortable silence, "That's quite a Q-U-A-N-D-A-R-Y you've got there Q."
Brittany scratched her head and looked confused, spelling was hard.
No longer taking any perverse pleasure out of the situation, Sue swallowed; almost as if to get the bitter taste that those words had left out of her mouth.
"Maybe your Eunuch of a teacher was right for once. Let's light these on fire. Any one have an accelerant?"
Puck pulled out a small silver flask and handed it to Sue. He wanted those papers burned more than anyone, plus if the flames got out of hand, that might provide a nice diversion.
Sue sniffed the flask and her nose wrinkled. "Whoa, it smells like you're drinking gasoline; that will get the job done."
Sue poured the contents into the trash can, threw the flask over her shoulder, lit a match, and dropped it in.
The flames flared up quickly, but thankfully remained within the confines of the trash can.
Puck thought Sue looked devilish standing in front of the blaze. She reached her hands out to warm them and said, "Look, what I have created."
Noting that Finn looked about ready to explode (but was scared enough of her not to say anything yet), Sue decided to leave.
"It's been real," she said as she walked towards the door. "I'm sure one of you ignoramuses can figure out how to douse the flames. If not, and one of you manages to survive, then I was never here."
Sue exited, and the kids were left to stare at the flames that were still going strong.
Finn started to get out his chair to confront Puck when Rachel tried to diffuse the situation the best way she knew how.
"Stop!" she shouted. "That paper wasn't Quinn's, it was mine."
What the hell is she doing? Puck wondered.
Rachel grabbed her stomach and insisted, "I am having Puck's child."
Everyone's jaw dropped, included Quinn's.
Puck kept his eyes on the flames, and thought that the choir room had now officially become hell.