A/N: These next chapters may read a little choppy, as they are bouncing back and forth between the past (at school), the recent past (the show), and the present. Therefore, just keep in mind that italics are flashbacks and bold-face are song lyrics.

A/A/N: I did make more of an effort in visual imagery, though you can still check out everyone's outfits on the Tumblr page (check my profile for the link!)

A/A/N: Song featured is "Super Trouper" from Mamma Mia!

The cast fell silent as Michelle, Stassi, and Caroline positioned themselves behind the partition. The tiny freshman was glowing as she glanced from side to side at her fellow Cheerios, all dolled up in seventies jumpsuits on stage.

Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue, they harmonized together, Like I always do
'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you…

The doorbell began ringing frantically and Michelle raced from the kitchen to answer it. Her black and white polka-dotted Nikola dress whisked with her as her bright pink platform stillettos carried her across the wooden floor-panels, and she used the long rug to slow her strides to keep from colliding with the front door.

The tiny freshman took a moment to press her palm against the netted collar of her dress, adjust her thin navy belt, and fluff her perfectly set curls set behind her headband before throwing open the door for the group of people that seemed to have simultaneously arrived for the party.

"Welcome!" she greeted exuberantly. "Thank you for coming! The coat closet is right here to your left—" she frowned unhappily as Rhi and Liam both plodded in through the door with a casual hello before each throwing their jackets (beige military and dark gray bomber respectively) on the entry table closest to them before heading toward the kitchen.

I was sick and tired of everything, Michelle sang out as she matched her choreography to her friends', When I called you last night from Glasgow

Walt, in his long-sleeved PacSun indigo plaid shirt (unbuttoned to reveal his bridge-view graphic tee), greeted all of the guests at the bar, where he'd already begun setting up plastic shot glasses and red solo cups.

All I do is eat, and sleep, and sing wishing every show was the last show
So imagine I was glad to hear you're coming
Suddenly it feels alright
And it's gonna be so different when I'm on the stage tonight

Hayley and Caroline both stepped up first, and the rebel gave the Cheerio (now much less her teenage stereotype in a deep cut flared ivory blazer dress with sheer black leggings and deep brown booties) a surprised look as she took the red cup and tipped it upwards. After swallowing, the freshman matched her eyes in challenge, and the sophomore shook back her dark hair before downing the shot in front of her, slamming the glass down and sliding her hands down her black double-breasted trench dress before resting them back on her hips.

"Alright!" Walt cheered, and the team rallied with him as they lined up around the counter.

Tonight the Super Trouper lights are gonna find me
Shining like the sun, the girls sang in their trio

Emma sipped a cocktail in her raspberry lace scallop dress and giggled at Coby and Annie as they began stacking cups in a pyramid, both trying not to knock over their awkwardly leaning structure.

Smiling, having fun

Roxie handed her cup to Dalton for a moment as she adjusted her metallic blue box-pleat skirt, only for the group to call him out for double-fisting. He grinned sheepishly at the brunette and straightened up as he dramatically pushed up the short sleeves on his black polo shirt and downed both like a champ before going back to the keg to get a new drink for his girlfriend.

Feeling like a number one
Tonight the Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won't feel blue
Like I always do

Teddy smiled awkwardly as he watched Caroline, Ashwin, and Addie pull aside the living room furniture to create a makeshift dance-floor. He was still wearing his three-quarter shirt and sky blue vest over his slacks, but Rhi had purposely mussed him up within five minutes of their arrival so that his shirt was untucked and three of the vest's buttons were loosened, so that and the drink in his hand apparently made him look a little less stiff.

Michelle grinned as she gazed out into the audience, feeling the glow of the spotlight, 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

"Okay guys!" Walt called out as the song faded out. "Please remember to surrender all of your electronics in the safety receptacle." He made his way through the crowd, shaking the gym bag in his hand. "Think of this place as our own piece of Vegas, filled with freedom, craziness, and—" he shot a look at the curvy blonde reporter "—off the record hijinks. There will be no incriminating evidence leaving the building!"

He stopped in front of Addie and stared critically at the girl. She was known for her random fashion flings, and apparently had settled tonight on eighties retro with crimped hair, glossy red lipstick, chunky necklace, and a poofed-sleeve geometric-print dress. It actually pretty good-looking on her, he decided, except that since she was obvious (and a lesbian), she held absolutely no interest for him. He shook the bag expectantly, and, with a glare from the outspoken girl, Addie pulled out her phone and dropped it inside with the others.

"I don't know how you expect me to do any sort of human-interest piece with everything I learn tonight being unprintable," she told him sullenly.

"We didn't invite you, you freaky femme —Emma did," Michelle replied, appearing with a wine cooler in hand. "And if you can't play by the rules, Berry-lover, then you can just leave!"

"Hey, hey—no need for names," Coby interfered, the only cast member still in costume. The blue jumpsuit made him hard to take seriously, but his manner was all business now. "Everyone is here to celebrate, and I suggest we get on that." The tiny girl made a face as the others migrated back to the floor for the next song, and the junior nudged her pointedly. "Hey, little Hepburn—you of all people should know better."

"I don't care that she's a lesbian, as preachy and ridiculous as she is," Michelle argued. "I care that she's trying to ruin my party for an article."

"Well, you're certainly making yourself look the worse for your unhappiness," he replied disapprovingly. "I suggest you consider what kind of implications your jabs have on the rest of us—like me, and your dads, and all of the other gays you could possibly know—before you start harping on people for who they care about."

Michelle gaped as the husky boy literally looked down on her before narrowing her eyes in protest. However, before she could say a word, she saw a shocked expression in her peripheral vision and was completely mortified to see Everett staring at her, the disappointment in his eyes highlighted by his gray argyle sweater and slacks. Her face turned crimson from shame and anger, and she closed her mouth and stormed past them back into the kitchen.

Coby kept his eyes on the small girl a little longer, then turned to the other boy. "You okay?" he asked.

Everett nodded, "Ellie's a good kid—she just doesn't really think about what she's saying."

"Doesn't mean she gets a pass for saying it," Coby argued. "What if it had been you?" He shook his head distastefully, with his tassels bouncing in dissonance. "It's probably a good thing you haven't told her yet."

Everett bit his lip and shrugged, avoiding meeting the larger boy's eyes.

They'd just finished their run-through, and Everett kept a nervous watch on the other junior's movements. The party was tomorrow, and Michelle was starting to get pushy about her brother making a move. It was bad enough she'd arranged for Coby to ask the theater vet for "tutoring", but she seemed to think the party was the perfect setting for them to have some grand romantic gesture, and Everett wasn't even sure he could out himself to the boy.

Oh, well, here he went… "Hey, Coby?"

The jock turned back to his friend. "Did I screw up that line again? I swear I know it, but I keep messing up the boat lesson—maybe it's one of those things where you actually have to have sailed at one point in your life for it to makes sense—"

"No, that's not it," Everett took a deep breath. "Look, Coby, I need to tell you something—something pretty important…"

Coby gasped. "Oh my god—you're pregnant, Roger, aren't you?" The husky boy couldn't hide his mirth from his mock serious expression and he put an arm around the smaller junior. "I knew we should have used protection! We'll have to have a shotgun wedding, I suppose—"

"Coby!"

Perhaps the playful boy finally realized the gravity of his friend's demeanor, because he dropped the jokes. "Sorry," he apologized, taking a step back to face his friend, making an effort to keep a somber appearance. "What's going on Everett?"

Hearing him say his real name actually made Everett even more nervous, but he swallowed thickly and took a deep breath. "I'm…gay," he pushed out with effort. "I'm gay, Coby, and I just wanted to tell…someone, I guess." Okay, so he couldn't exactly explain that he wanted to come out to his friend so they could date, but baby steps, right?

"Oh," the burly boy replied slowly, nodding as he processed the information. "Okay. Cool." He smiled reassuringly. "Do you need anything? Pep talk? Advice? A date to prom?" He laughed teasingly, and Everett gave a weak smile. "No, seriously man: I know that it can be hard to get that foot out the door."

Everett shrugged. "I don't know what I need—I haven't really gotten that far yet."

"Well, have you told anyone?"

Everett bit his lip. "I've told you," he replied after a second's thought.

The playful junior regarded his friend and nodded understandingly. "Well," he assured the boy. "That's a start."

It had been easy to convince Coby not to say anything—Everett hadn't even needed to suggest it. And he did feel a little guilty for letting his friend believe that he hadn't already told his dads or Michelle and they weren't completely behind him, but honestly, it was nice having this moment with the guy of his dreams. If Michelle didn't know that he and Coby were talking about it, then she would still be bound to her promise and not say a word. And if Coby didn't know that he'd come out to others, he'd stay close to him to be a friend. He never pushed either, and Everett was thrilled with the other boy's proximity. It was working out perfectly for him right now, and he couldn't bring himself to tempt fate just yet.

The burly jock was still regarding him at the moment, however, so he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Hey, why don't we get a drink?" he asked, bringing an ear-to-ear grin to Coby's face.

"Here we go, here we go!" Walt called out to them as he picked up a glass bottle and spun it expertly in his hand. "What's your poison boys?" He smoothly poured a line of shots and pushed two toward the juniors.

"Uh…" Everett balked.

"Thank you, my robot buddy," Coby replied, downing the drink cheerily and slamming the glass face down on the counter. "But I will take a beer, please."

Walt smiled and slid a bottle across the counter, popping the cap and pouring into a red cup for his friend. The boy lifted the drink in a toast and took a long swallow. "I'll see you on the dance floor Roger," Coby said and turned toward the living room, throwing his free hand up and letting out a cheer.

Everett watched the picture nervously: a gaggle of Cheerios were dancing together in the center of the floor, and Dalton and Roxie were swaying slowly on the fringe; Emma was giggling at something Liam was saying, and…Hayley was unbuttoning her dress, revealing a very tight, very revealing metallic blue and black cut-out crop top and cut-off black shorts underneath as she slid closer to Rhi and an embarrassed-yet-pleased Andrew.

The poor junior couldn't stop staring—the party had just started and it was becoming an orgy. He was so screwed…

"Hey man," a voice spoke up from behind him. The basket-case turned to face the barkeep addressing him. "They're just loosening up—trust me, it'll be fine. Have a drink, it'll calm the nerves."

He pushed a red cup toward Everett, who gave an uneasy gulp before throwing caution to the wind and bringing the rim to his lips. He sipped, then swallowed, then guzzled until the liquid was gone.

"Alright, man! Now you're getting it!" Wally grinned encouragingly and poured the boy another round, which the curly-haired brunette took in both hands before stepping toward the chaos.

Walt grinned and watched as his next victim appeared, her sultry saunter a testament to her already buzzed state.

"Hurricane," he greeted smoothly.

"Devil," she answered, placing a silver flask on the bar. "I'm out—got anything good back there, or did you decide to be as cheap as your Cheerios after all?"

Walt was perusing the aisles carefully. Michelle had been very decent about fronting him a sizable amount of funding for their venture, and he wanted to prove he could deliver.

He grabbed a bottle of Skye off of the shelf and considered it.

"Don't get that," a voice criticized, and the sophomore turned to see Hayley watching him from the end of the aisle. "At least not if you're trying to help Jabber Jaw and not make her the laughingstock of the school."

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked, skeptical about the resident bad girl's appearance.

"Stocking up for the party, and if you're going for that crap, then it looks like I'm going to need it."

"How are you planning on buying it?" he asked, and she scoffed at him as she held up a plastic id card. He took it from her and looked closely. "Dmitria Rayne? From…Kentucky? Is anyone really going to believe that?"

"It's worked pretty well so far," she retorted, snatching back the paper. "So you're not really going with Skye, are you?"

"I've got a big guest list and a modest budget," he told her. "It's not like they're going to notice anyways."

"Dude, at least get the Captain or Jim or one of the good guys," she groaned. "Don't just blow the budget on Coors and Georgi or some crap."

"Like I'd buy gin for a high school party," he argued.

"Whatever," she bit back. "Just do the damn thing right." And she turned to go.

"Hey, Hurricane," he called at her, and she looked back at him. "What made you do this anyways?"

"I'm being punished," she reminded him tartly.

"Yeah, but you could have done the minimum and gotten away with it," he maintained. "You put together the choreography; you could have left after that. Instead, you're at every rehearsal, every cast meeting," he stepped closer, until their faces were inches apart. "You're even going to this party. Could it be that someone finally thawed out McKinley's bad girl's frozen heart strings?"

Hayley hesitated a millisecond before quickly scoffing. "Like I would get involved with any of the losers at this school, Devil," she shot him down. "You and I both know that no one here could keep up with me."

Wally grinned mischievously. "Maybe, but I can think of one guy off hand who'd be more than willing to try."

She'd rolled her eyes at him and walked away then, but getting her out of his head was a little more difficult. Hayley had always been an itch he couldn't scratch—she was the female Puck, and yet all but untouchable. He knew he'd be done with her in a day, but he was positive that a day would be more than enough for both of them.

And here she was, already fairly buzzed as she leaned forward, the band of cloth around her chest hugging her tightly as she moved to take back her refilled flask.

"I can't believe I came to this fucking party," she griped as she took a bottle of vodka from the counter and poured it into her flask. "I hate these people. They're fake, and arrogant, and complete hypocrites."

"Anyone in particular?" he asked as she took a pull from the metal container.

"Yep—all of them," she replied, turning to glare at the crowd. "Especially the Cheeri-hos. How you ever put up with them is beyond me."

"I don't put up with any one of them for very long," he reminded her.

"Still too long," she ranted. "Everybody here is a damn poser—pretending to be happy or in love or whatever. The only people here worth associating with are you and Rhi—at least you're both honest about who you are."

Walt grinned and poured two shots, pushing one forward and taking the other in his hand. "That were are," he agreed.

Hayley disregarded hers, instead taking a long pull from her personal stash and making her way back to the dance floor to glare at the group.

Walt, on the other hand, watched the girl as she sped full-steam toward angry-drunk, smirking as he considered if tonight wouldn't be his night after all.

"What have you done to my brother?" a small voice piped, and the sophomore found himself distracted from the rebel as he turned to face his current partner-in-crime.

"Just gave him a shot of courage for tonight, Princess" he replied, glancing out on the floor to where the curly-haired boy was drinking a refilled cup he'd gotten as he danced with Nina and Coby.

Michelle's eyes went wide in shock as her head darted back and forth between the bartender and the dance floor. "Oh my god," she said lowly. "He's doing it tonight?" Wally's expression became puzzled, and her own seemed to backtrack in consideration. "Wait, what do you think he's doing tonight?" she asked quickly.

"Surviving his first high school party," he answered, tilting his cropped hair as he considered the gossip girl. "What do you think he's doing?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said hastily, biting her lip in regret. He gave her a searching look and she pouted. "Don't ask—I like my ankles." The words caught him off guard and he laughed, causing her to break into a sweet smile. "So how did you know about my brother's nickname for me?"

He shrugged. "I've heard him say it during rehearsals once or twice." He gave her a smirk. "It suits you."

She examined his features to determine if he was being critical or not, then took the compliment. "So what are we drinking?"

"I figured I'd start us off with some Bacardi for appetizers," he said with a grin, pushing the leftover shot glass toward her and pouring a new one for himself. "Bottoms up," he instructed as he raised the glass toward her.

Michelle tipped up the drink and cringed as she felt the flaming liquid slide down her throat. She coughed and gave out a groan, looking to her new friend. "That was—"

"Drink this," he told her, handing her a Gatorade. She gave him a skeptical look, but uncapped the bottle and swallowed a few times, washing out the taste. "First rule in drinking, always have a chaser," he told her.

"Doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose of drinking if you have to mask the taste just to keep it down?" she asked him as he poured two more shots.

"Not if you're looking for the effects instead of the medicine," he replied, tipping the glass up again and draining it quickly. She watched him closely for a moment and then took her own shot, attempting to replicate his smooth motion. She tilted her head further back, keeping her tongue relaxed in order to allow the liquor to slide down her throat faster, and took two swallows of Gatorade to wash down the remaining kick.

"Smooth," she assessed, looking at him proudly. He chuckled and pulled out a martini glass. "Where did you get that?"

He shrugged. "Raided your kitchen." He poured in some Bacardi before pulling out a 2-liter of Coke and a bottle of grenadine. He mixed the ingredients and pushed the drink in front of her. "A Red Rum and Coke," he informed her gallantly.

The tiny brunette grinned and took a tiny sip, breaking into a smile as she found the drink much more enjoyable than the shot. "How did you learn all of this anyways?" she asked. "I know your dad isn't a bartender."

"Well, my dad isn't exactly the picture of sobriety either," he told her. "You know he's a private contractor, and that most of his workers are…recruited by the state."

"Convicts," she filled in, taking a sip of her drink. "I've done my homework on most of the top tier."

"Fair enough," he replied. "Well, I went out on a lot of jobs with him when I was growing up, and they taught me quite a bit. The rest I figured out from the internet and experimentation." He took out a new bottle and flipped it around his back before spinning it upside down and pouring the shot. "Want to try tequila?" he asked with a challenging gleam in his eye.

Michelle pursed her lips, then carefully put down her drink and picked up the shot. "Are you just trying to get me drunk?" she asked, downing the liquid quickly and wincing before swallowing her own martini as a chaser.

Walt chuckled. "Oddly enough, I'm not," he replied, taking her empty glass and moving to freshen it. "You'll find, Princess, that there are only a handful of reasons people drink." He motioned to Hayley and Caroline, respective shot and red cup in hand. "The angry ones, who drink to forget the people that piss them off." His head turned toward Andrew, still dancing with Rhi with an awkward, albeit more relaxed smile, and Everett. "The nervous ones, who are looking for courage to try something new." Walt then turned to face her, sliding her drink toward her. "And then there's us."

"Us?"

"The ones that want to live life to the fullest. We're going to try everything once, because we want to live with no regrets. I can see you Chelle—you'll run with the bulls in Madrid, dance topless at Mardi Gras, and go cheese-rolling in the UK just so you can be eighty years old and tell your grandkids you did."

Michelle gave a timid but proud smile. "Thank you, Walt," she told him, taking a sip of her drink. "Not just for this, but the party too—I want my first party to be something I tell my grandkids too."

"Glad to be of service," he replied. "And I promise, it'll be a memorable night."