Chapter 2

Where Did the Blue Skies Go?*

"My goodness, what happened to you?"

Will limped his way inside the nurse's clinic, pained by his sore shoulders and swollen left jaw, but said nothing. The nurse scrambled around her desk to accommodate Will, gently leading him into another room separated from the nurse's office by a thin, mint green curtain. Inside there were four beds equally spaced from each other— one of which was already occupied by a student who was completely wrapped up in a blanket.

"You lay down here," said the nurse, patting the bed farthest from the other student, "It's bad enough that you're battered and bruised; now I don't want you to catch what he's having too." As Will settled onto the bed and took his shoes off, the nurse eyed the other student worriedly and sighed, hurrying back to her desk; as soon as the nurse disappeared and was on the other side of the curtain, Will took a face towel tucked in one of his backpack's outer pockets and coughed into it the blood he had been holding in since he was punched. He yawned slowly, because even the slightest movement of his jaw was proving to be more painful than he'd expected.

The nurse seemed to be hastily moving around from the other side of the room, with sounds of cabinets and drawers being opened and objects seemingly set onto a tray. Without warning, the mint green curtain was drawn back and the nurse reappeared, holding a tray in which a first aid kit and a glass of water were placed. Startled, Will hastily hid his bloodied towel under the pillow on his bed as the nurse took a seat across from him.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" the nurse asked sincerely. Will only shook his head and looked away. The nurse shrugged knowingly, expecting this kind of response; she reached out to him, dabbing his left jaw with cotton soaked in antiseptic. "I bet it was Drake and his boys again," she whispered. "Was it?" Will stared at the nurse, whose eyes reflected nothing but concern for him. He was brought back to the time when he was ten, and he had suffered a fractured bone from playing soccer at school; he regained consciousness at the hospital, and the first thing he remembered seeing were his mother's eyes, looking down on him with concern, worry, and so much love for her only son….

"Dear, where else does it hurt?"

Will blinked, realizing he had been reliving a memory long gone. "I… I just need to sleep, please," he begged.

"All right, then," said the nurse, smiling. "You can stay for as long as you need to rest." She handed him the glass of water and a pill. "Don't worry; it's just a pain reliever." Will took the pill and drank it down without hesitation, and soon enough he was starting to feel numb and drowsier than he had been when he first sat on the bed. He finally rested his head on the pillow, feeling his eyelids close immediately.

The nurse had put the glass and the first aid kit back on the tray, and was already returning to her desk when she remembered. "I don't think I've ever seen you around here, though… what's your name, dear?"

Will struggled to open his eyes and was not even sure if he heard the question correctly, but he answered anyway. "Will… Schuester," he mumbled, before the last of his strength left him and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

He didn't know how long he had been sleeping, but for some reason Will felt that the mattress he had been laying upon was just as comfortable as his bed back home. It was a much needed rest that Will needed; for the past two weeks since his mother died, he had only been getting an hour or two of sleep each day, as though his body was fighting its need to rest—wishing and hoping instead, that in any moment his mother would return. Will turned on his side and slightly stretched his legs, his eyes still closed. From the other side of the curtain, he could hear the nurse talking to another female—a younger girl, judging from the voice; they were whispering, as if they were discussing something taboo.

"Yes, his last name is Schuester—" the nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts, and to make things worse he couldn't find a way to fall back to sleep and ignore their voices. Will was never the type to listen in on someone else's conversation, but as soon as he heard his last name he might as well know what the subject of their discussion really was.

"But did you mean 'Schuester'—like a relative of Dr. Schuester, or do they just happen to have the same last name?" the younger female voice asked.

"You know I can't say too much about this. Principal Preston told the faculty and staff to keep this subject as low-key as possible," the nurse replied. There was silence, aside from the sound of papers being rearranged and the shutting of a drawer. "I'm sorry, Emma," the nurse said. "It's not that I don't trust you, but I can't just… think about the boy…."

More silence. But the younger girl, Emma, suddenly spoke. "I know I'm being overly intrusive by asking this, Mrs. Peterson," she said. "But I need to know." Her voice was firm and determined. "You know Henry's my best friend but he's been avoiding me all day while the other kids are already spreading rumors about this." She sighed. "As much as you're worried about—about him… I'm just as worried about Henry. Please, I need to know the truth."

So the talks and the whispers have begun, thought Will. Pretty soon everyone will start to know him not only as the new kid in school, but as Dr. Schuester's illegitimate son. He finally opened his eyes and sat up, feeling well-rested but anxious.

"Well… yes, Will Schuester is Dr. Schuester's son," said Mrs. Peterson as quickly as she possibly could. "That's all I could tell you, Emma." The nurse said sternly, her footsteps shuffling as she bustled around in her office. "Now back to work—you were supposed to wake him up."

A split-second later and the mint green curtain was drawn back to reveal Will, already awake and sitting up in bed; he looked just as startled as the girl who had drawn back the curtain—Emma. She was younger than him—she was only sixteen— although basing on the conversation Will had eavesdropped on a while back, he had imagined that she would be older than him. Apparently, it was only the way she talked that made her seem mature. Emma was wearing a white button-down blouse and a flowing, yellow skirt that ended just below her knees. She was pale but her face was red, just like the wavy hair that ended right above her elbows. Her eyes showed every hint that she was mortified, staring back at Will as she stood there with her mouth slightly open.

"Oh," she managed to choke out. "H-he's awake, Mrs. Peterson," Emma called out to the nurse, her voice shaking. Will stared her down, furious that she had been too curious about him, but as soon as Mrs. Peterson came by he chose to look at her instead.

"Your father's here, Will," Mrs. Peterson said, oblivious to the tension between an embarrassed Emma and an angry Will. "He's waiting for you at the parking lot."

"Wait—why? What about my classes?" Will sounded confused, but he bent down and slipped on his shoes anyway.

"It's 3 o'clock. School's done for the day, you may go home and rest," said Mrs. Peterson, smiling at the two teenagers before she went back to her desk. Taking his backpack with him, Will stood up and headed for the door, shooting Emma one last menacing look and a word of thanks to the nurse before he left. Will was far from excited to see Ed Schuester again, but he was relieved that he didn't have to attend any of his classes today— even if it meant getting punched and picked on by some boys in order to get some sleep in the school clinic. He was once again alone in the hallway, trying to remember the way to the parking lot, when he heard loud tapping footsteps seemingly running after him.

"Wait!" Emma panted behind him, the tapping of her flat shoes still ringing in Will's ears. He walked on, pretending not to hear her.

"Wait, please!" she pleaded. "The parking lot is this way," Emma said. Will turned and saw that she was pointing in the opposite direction; she knew this school better than he did, and knew he had just made a fool of himself, but he did not let his embarrassment show.

"Of course," he grumbled coolly, turning to walk in the direction Emma was pointing, making sure to avoid her eyes when he passed her. To his surprise, the noisy tapping of Emma's flat shoes still followed him.

"What now?" Will hissed at her.

"I am so sorry about what happened earlier," said Emma, speeding up a little to be able to walk alongside Will. "It was wrong to talk about you behind your back. I didn't know you were already awake—"

"So you weren't going to apologize if you knew I wasn't around to hear you gossiping about me?"

"No, that's not at all what I meant, Will," pleaded Emma.

"Then what exactly did you mean?" They had reached the exit; Will stopped and turned to face Emma, glaring at her.

Emma was panicking, intimidated by the way Will was treating her. "I—I don't know what I mean, I— I'm just sorry, okay?" she stammered.

"Sure," Will scoffed as he closed his hand on the handle of the door leading to the parking lot. "Go ahead and act like you care about me; that's all everybody pretends to do ever since—" He inhaled sharply, terrified by what he almost said. Ever since mom died, he finished the sentence in his head. He was so close to acknowledging the sad truth aloud, but he stopped himself, wanting to believe that if he kept it in his head and avoided speaking about it then somehow it might actually turn out to be a long nightmare instead. Only it wasn't; Will knew it was really happening to him, but he wanted nothing else but to deny the truth.

"Will," mumbled Emma, stretching out her hand to pat his shoulder, but Will's reflexes were surprisingly quick. Once he felt her touch him, he shied away instantly.

"Leave me alone!" Will did not mean for his voice to rise, but he was frustrated at Emma. He knew he'd gone too far; he knew it was wrong right after he had yelled at her, but he didn't want to apologize just yet. "I have to go," he mumbled, not even daring to look at Emma before he left.

Emma watched as Will, slouching, approached the silver sedan parked on the same spot, beside the dumpster; she watched Ed Schuester's silver sedan leave McKinley High before making her way back to the nurse's clinic. She still had work to do.

I know you're still quite confused about Emma's character. And she still had work to do- what does that mean? You'll know more about our favorite ginger in subsequent chapters, so I hope you stick around for it! And in case you couldn't recall, Henry is Ed Schuester's son (the legitimate one) who also happens to be Emma's best friend.

*Why Does It Always Rain on Me by Travis helped me finish this chapter.