A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews on this. I only heard from a couple of readers on my last story, so hearing from more for this one has been exciting and motivating for me. :)

I'll admit that an idea in this story is inspired by a favorite book series from my childhood.

As you read, remember I like to shift events around and change the way it all went down. Enjoy!

Some people called her "The Mack" now, because of the rumor that she liked to make out with truckers at rest stops. But Artie didn't think of her that way. Besides, that rumor was most likely false, or at least, he hoped it was.

Artie knew that she was a year older than her grade, just like he was, but for different reasons. He and Mackenzie, or Mack as they always called her, had been in the first grade together. He always remembered her because she'd come around October that year, she was dirty, and she smelled bad. Mackenzie didn't make it out of first grade that year. She was absent nearly as often as she was in school, so they held her back. Looking back, Artie hoped someone had followed up those frequent absences with some kind of home visit, but that may have been too much to hope for in the Lima public school system. It was sad. Mack had fallen through the cracks.

Artie had been reunited with Mack when he was a third grader, round two. She was cleaner that year and wasn't smelly anymore. Artie had been too young to understand why at the time, but he learned much later on that she'd gone to live with her elderly great-grandmother instead of her negligent parent. You could say that Artie had taken an interest in her, not a romantic one or anything, but he'd just been curious. She'd been kind of curious about him too...

...

Eight years earlier - August 2003

He'd struggled a lot that morning, on his first day back at school. He'd had way far much time to build this moment up in his head. Consequently, the day nine-year-old Artie rolled back into a classroom, with a brand new younger set of peers, would be forever etched in his memory.

And that was why he remembered the "tough" girl who sat at his table.

His new third grader teacher wasn't the same one he'd had the previous year, when he had unsuccessfully tried to return to school after the accident. This one was actually new to their school that year and seemed excited – rather than overwhelmed – to have him in her class. And she didn't do anything weird like seat his desk right by hers, as though his physical differences had also made him dumber.

As a matter of fact, this new teacher had them seated at round tables instead of desks. She'd adjusted the table that Artie was seated at to be a bit higher, so as to allow his wheelchair to fit under it easily. Then she'd just seated taller, bigger kids with Artie. In doing so, she made everyone comfortable and she didn't single Artie out. To some, it was a small thing. To Artie, small things like that mattered a great deal now.

His table partners that year were Mack and a tall kid named Gabriel who reminded Artie of Finn. He remembered Mack as a quiet girl who loved to draw. She hadn't said a word to him when he joined her at the table that day. In fact, she'd barely spared him a look. Meanwhile, he spied Gabriel out of the corner of his eye, staring hard at him as he rolled himself into place and set the brake. Gabriel ended up being an okay guy, but at first, Artie remembered thinking that the other boy didn't want to share a table with him.

On the first day, they were given one of those typical back-to-school assignments where you had to write some of your favorite things and also draw a picture of yourself. Artie was stuck on what to put for 'favorite sport,' since he'd had a complicated relationship with soccer ever since the accident. He also didn't know if he wanted to draw himself with or without the chair. Maybe he'd just draw his face...

He was about to start on the drawing when he glanced over at Mack. Her paper was blank and she was staring at the empty space on the table in front of her, where a pencil box should have been. Artie, who had already found his in his backpack – lovingly prepared by his mother with supplies purchased weeks ago – passed his own pencil box to the tall girl.

"We can share," he'd suggested.

She didn't smile but she'd accepted his crayons without a word. She shared his crayons for about a week, until a pencil box eventually appeared in the space in front of her, most likely provided by their teacher.

That day, where you were supposed to draw a self portrait, Mack used Artie's crayons to color the most detailed and elaborate picture of a butterfly. Inspired by her out-of-the-box thinking, Artie decided he didn't have to draw the chair and he didn't just have to draw his face either. He drew himself on the soccer field, scoring a goal, and if anyone asked, that was still how he saw himself. Once an athlete, always an athlete.

Just like Mack saw herself as that butterfly.

...

On that particular Friday, Artie was running late, having stayed up way too late on their weeknight road-trip to Dayton. He was regretting having even gone when he pulled into the parking lot that day.

His usual handicapped space was already taken, and quite predictably, not by someone who needed it. The car had the tags but Artie knew the occupant and knew those tags weren't for her. As luck would have it, she hadn't left the car yet. Mack was smoking one last cigarette in the broken-down old Honda, her window cracked to let the smoke escape.

Artie pulled up as close as he could and rolled down his window. "Hey, uh, excuse me, Mack?"

He called her name two more times before she noticed, over the sound of her music blaring as she smoked, apparently concerned with neither the time nor the illegal action of parking in his space. But when she did hear, she did a double take as she rolled her window all the way down and realized it was him.

"Listen, uh, sorry, I know it's almost time for the bell but I really need that space," he said, as politely as he could, so as not to sound disrespectful while still putting her in check.

"What about over there?" And she pointed.

Artie followed her point to an open space on the front row that was marked 'reserved.' He turned back to Mack and, wishing he didn't have to explain it, explained anyway.

"Well, for one thing, I think that's for the principal," he said, slowly. "But, uh, another issue is the amount of room beside that space. It's not enough room for me to get my chair out..."

"Oh." Mackenzie didn't argue with him about it. After flicking the used cigarette out the window, she proceeded to back out of the spot for him. As he took the space reserved for him, she whipped her car into the spot for the principal.

Looks could be deceiving. Though her exterior was tough, she was a kind-hearted soul. She actually stood there and waited for him to get out and get into his chair, in fact, because she had more to say.

"I don't normally drive this car," she confessed, as she watched him meticulously shift his body from car to chair. "It's my Granny's and I'm taking it to the shop for her after school."

"You should go to Hummel's Tires and Lube," Artie said, as he finished his transfer and looked up at her. "That's my friend, Kurt's dad's shop. If you tell him you're a friend of a friend of Kurt's, I'm sure he'll give you a discount."

Mack stared blankly. "And are we friends?"

"Well, y-yeah," he stammered. "I mean, remember third grade? I let you use my crayons and you drew that really cool butterfly for your self-portrait?"

She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Who remembers that much about third grade?"

"Well... me," Artie said, with a half-smile and a weird hand raise that he only realized was weird after he'd done it. "Third grade was kind of a pivotal time in my life."

Mack cracked a smile, too. "Well, alright then, friend." He didn't know how much of the comment was intended to be read sarcastically, but he decided to pretend he didn't notice. "Anyway. I just want you to know, I don't go around stealing parking from cripples on the regular. I'm a Skank, not an asshole."

"Well... thanks," he'd said, his twisted grin relaxing into a regular one. "On behalf of all crips, we appreciate it. Walk you to class?"

They shared the same first period Government class that year. Since their school didn't have an honors class for Government, this was one of the few classes that didn't contain his usual peer group, which consisted of the top quarter of their Junior class.

Mack shrugged. "I guess I'm headed that way."

"You know Quinn lived with me for awhile, right?" Artie said, by way of making conversation with her as they set off in the direction of their class. "For the summer and half of the following school year after she had her baby..."

"Yeah, she said something about that when you showed up with that Rachel girl on Monday," Mack commented. "Why are you telling me that? Am I supposed to say 'good job?'"

"You're not supposed to say anything," Artie replied, embarrassed, as he held up to let her go ahead of him as they turned the corner and she cut him off. Doubling down on his wheels, however, he caught up. "Look, I just... want to know what you think I should do? Quinn and I used to be really good friends."

"I don't know what you want me to say," Mack said, shrugging again. "She picks her friends. She decided to hang with us this year. Sorry if you feel left out. I don't know what you want me to do about it."

"Nothing, you don't have to do anything," Artie muttered, as they came to a stop near their classroom door. "I just thought maybe you'd have some insight. I don't feel like I even know her now."

"She hasn't changed," Mack said, rolling her eyes and directing an annoyed look his way. "Just a caterpillar who transformed into a butterfly. It's time for Quinnie to spread her wings and fly away now."

"I don't want to hold her back..." Artie started to say. "Do you, like, have a thing with butterflies? Is that why you drew one for your third grade self-portrait?"

"That's not why," she said. "It wasn't a self-portrait. You had the fancy box of 64 crayons with the sharpener in the back, rich boy. That's like every color they make. I wanted to color something beautiful."

"Well, you did," he told her, surprised that she'd called him a 'rich boy,' which was something he'd never been called before. "You're into art right? I-well, I think you did the graffiti by the football field, right? It's really good work."

"Thanks," she replied, smiling, and then they headed into class, so that was the end of the conversation. But before taking her seat, he saw her give him one last glance over her shoulder. And he knew he'd done it – he'd won over one of "the Skanks."

...

He was going to get brave and approach "The Skanks" at lunch. Only, by the time he had his tray, they were gone. He'd been at the back of the line today, so it had taken him longer than usual to get through it. The Skanks usually usually ate their food quickly, for the purpose of spending the remainder of the break on the roof.

As Rachel had so accurately pointed out the other day, he couldn't follow them there.

He must have been wearing a flustered expression when he joined his usual table at lunch, for Mercedes did a double take. Seated with her was Shane, who always joined her for lunch, plus Rachel and Finn, Kurt and Blaine, Mike and Tina... everyone paired up, save for Artie. Brittany and Santana stopped sitting with them half-way through the week to sit with a bunch of Cheerios and football jocks, which included Puck, too.

"You okay?" she asked him.

"Just trying to figure out how to talk to Quinn," he muttered, as he took his lunch tray off the little device that attached to his chair and placed it on the table.

Spaghetti again. He was a little traumatized by Tuesday's food fight still and couldn't believe the cafeteria was bold enough to serve it again so soon after that incident. As it happened, no more purple pianos had appeared in the lunchroom.

"Well, the God Squad has our first meeting of the year during study hall today," Mercedes said, with a shrug. "I haven't heard if she's coming or not, but she's still President of our chapter. I assume she'll be there."

Artie was surprised he hadn't thought of before. "So... do you have to be an active member of some kind of church to go?"

Mercedes' eyes lit up and it was clear to Artie that she'd been waiting for such an opportunity as this. "No, of course you don't," she said. "We'd love for you to join us, Artie."

It was gonna be real awkward if he showed up and Quinn didn't, but it was as good a plan as any.

...

He'd never encountered someone who walked through the halls of their school barefoot. Artie knew the kinds of things that ended up on those floors very, very well, unfortunately, and he wouldn't have ever advised it. But that was what this dreadlocked guy was doing when Artie's left wheel encountered his bare foot.

He'd spotted the dreadlocked newcomer as soon as he came in the door but didn't realize the other guy was behind him, trying to assist him in moving a chair at the table, until it was too late. He heard him yelp and the next thing he knew, the other guy was hobbling around and wincing in pain, clearly trying not to make a scene.

"I'm so sorry about that," Artie told him. Then he stared at the other guy's unprotected toes. "Uh, not to pry or anything, but where are your shoes?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, like he'd just remembered it wasn't a normal thing to walk around the halls without any shoes. "I'm sort of used to going to school barefoot. I just like the feeling of the cold floor against my feet." And he winced as he said it. "Uh, not to be, like, insensitive..."

Artie chuckled. "Uh, you're good," he said. "I've never been upset about not being able to walk around the halls without shoes..." He stuck out a hand by way of introduction. "I'm Artie," he said.

"Joe Hart," said the other guy. "Nice to meet you."

The guy pulled up a chair and sat next to Artie just as Mercedes entered the room and locked eyes on the both of them, her face brightening at the sight of them. A few other kids were taking seats as well, but Quinn was still nowhere to be found.

"I now call this meeting of the God Squad to order," said Mercedes, who had clearly decided just to take charge in Quinn's absence. "Thank you guys for coming. Our first order of business is to welcome all the new faces here. It's nice to see you here, Artie."

"Thanks." Artie chewed his bottom lip, wishing he could just leave, now that it didn't look like Quinn was coming, but everyone was smiling and nodding at him, like they were all wanting to be the one to evangelize the new blood. He shrank under the attention.

"Also, welcome to our newest member," Mercedes went on to say, gesturing to the guy by Artie. "This is Joseph Hart, but you guys can call him Joe. He just transferred here to McKinley."

"Yeah, I guess I'm a sophomore," said Joe, looking around and smiling at all of them. "I've been homeschooled my whole life, but this past year I realized my best friend was my mom, so I decided I wanted to get out and experience the world."

"What's with the tats?" Artie asked, curiously.

"Bible quotes," Joe told him. "And each one of my dreads is named after a book of the Bible. I play guitar, too, but I only know Christian stuff. My dad only listens to talk radio, and we don't have a TV."

"We're so glad to have you, Joe," Mercedes said.

"When I heard about this club, I was so stoked," said Joe. "I'd love to show this school that it's cool to be Christian. We aren't all just door-to-door Bible salesmen, like my dad."

Artie started to laugh, thinking that was Joe being humorous, but the other guy just look mystified, and Artie realized he was completely serious.

"Hope you guys don't mind that I take off my shoes a lot," he added, gesturing to his feet and giving his naked toes a wiggle. "I'm sort of used to going to school barefoot."

"You're just like a Teen Jesus," Artie commented, thinking that was a fair assessment but, after catching an annoyed look from Mercedes, he didn't say anything else.

"Alright, for the first order of business..." Mercedes started to say, but someone coming in the door caught her attention. "Oh, hey, come on in."

In walked Mack, looking nervous as she quickly took the nearest seat, which happened to be on the other side of Artie. He must have looked shocked to see her, because she immediately scowled at him. He averted his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, haughtily. "I don't look Christian enough for you? I happen to be a missionary kid now. My new foster family took me to Papua New Guinea all summer."

"Praise," Mercedes beamed at her. "Welcome, Mack. If you see Quinn, please tell her we–"

"She said you'd ask," Mack cut her off. "She said to tell you don't bother."

Mercedes took a moment to process this news, swallowing hard. The club had taken a couple big hits, first losing Sam and now Quinn. Many seats sat empty. Mercedes put on a brave face and soldiered on.

"Community service projects," she began. "We need to start something..."