The next couple of days in Kentucky were similar to the first two, minus the surprise run-in with Santana. Plenty of cleaning, packing, running errands, and family game nights made their days busy but enjoyable.
On Friday, Sam's dad was home and it was finally time to load the carefully-packed belongings into the truck. It was one of those moments where Artie felt mostly useless and in the way, since he couldn't even get off their porch without help. Still, he did manage to serve the family by picking up the two youngest from school. He insisted that Sam stay behind to focus on helping his dad instead. If there was something Artie could do on his own to help, then he was gonna take pride in that and do it.
Sam's father gestured for Artie to roll down his window as Artie pulled into the driveway, upon returning with the kids. "What do we owe you for gas?" he wanted to know
Mr. Evans was undoubtably thinking of all the errands throughout the week, plus driving Sam to and from Kentucky, which did add up to a lot of fuel.
"Nothing, sir," Artie said, as Stacey and Stevie pilled out of the backseat, dragging their backpacks behind. "Besides, it's my mom who currently buys my gas, but you don't owe her anything either. Really... it's... rare that I get to help someone. I'm usually the one being helped."
"Untrue," Sam affirmed, walking up beside his father, but then he only further proved the point Artie had just been making, as Artie popped the trunk so Sam could retrieve his chair for him. "You helping people out isn't so rare. What about Quinn?"
Sam grabbed the chair and brought it around, as he had done all week, anytime they had to put it in the trunk to use the backseat.
"I guess," Artie said, as he took over the assembly of his own chair while Sam stepped back. After receiving one final lift over the stairs to the porch, he joined Sam's family in celebrating the last day in the now-empty kitchen with one more pizza. Artie was getting pretty sick of pizza, being that it was their third time having pizza this week, but there wasn't a better choice when you were packing up.
Even the kitchen table and chairs had been packed up, so everyone ate on the floor, save for Artie. When they were finished and had cleaned up after the small meal, there was nothing left to do but leave.
As Sam's mother put an arm around her husband's shoulder, she surveyed their small home sadly. "Good-bye cute, yellow rental house," she said, wistfully. "You were a good home to us and we'll miss you."
If Stacey and Stevie were feeling sad or sentimental, neither of them showed any sign. Mostly, they seemed happy about being all together as a family again, even if that meant going where Sam was. In fact, both of the kids wanted to ride with Artie and Sam back to Ohio, and they might have been allowed to, save for the fact that there just wasn't room for them with Artie's wheelchair in the backseat and his trunk now filled with luggage.
This four-hour caravan was a little more complicated, being that they were going to hit some traffic along the way this time, but it looked like they'd be getting home just before the sun went down that evening. Artie was ready to see Amy, who had returned from her trip to Mexico by now. He was especially ready to check on Quinn, whose updates about physio had been mostly positive that week after the initial setback.
Artie was actually rather proud of himself, as this was the longest he'd ever been away from his own home since his accident. He shared this little fact with Sam as they crossed the state line into Ohio.
"Just in time to prepare for college," Sam commented, grinning at him. "You'll be a world traveler soon, especially if you become a director."
"Yeah..." Artie was aware that they'd start having these conversations now, and soon. He wasn't really ready to admit this, but he had a lot of reservations about going all the way to Brooklyn for school. For one thing, how wheel-friendly was New York? The trip to Nationals last year hadn't told him much. For another, was leaving any way to repay his parents, for rebuilding their home and for taking such good care of him all these years?
And did he even really want to be a director? If he turned his hobby into his career, would he wind up hating it? Would it drain him of all his creative energy if his entire future rested upon others being invested in his ideas?
When they got to Lima, Sam directed him to the location of the home they'd be renting. This time, Sam and his family were just living a few blocks from him, which would make it easy to hang out often. Artie was sure Sam would walk over often to swim, something he was looking forward to.
"Well, brother, this is it," Sam said, as Artie pulled into the driveway behind Sam's father. "Thanks for all the rides this week. And for letting me live with your family for most of the year. Don't ever say you didn't help me, man, because you definitely did. My family owes you big time."
"It means a lot to me to be able to help," Artie said, twisting his mouth in the way that he did when he was on the receiving end of compliments that made him feel awkward. But he was pleased by them too.
With Sam gone, he made the short drive over to home. Going inside his own house, with its widened doorways, ramps, and the many clear paths for him was so comforting. "I'm home!" he called out, tossing the duffel bag off his lap, on to the haltree in the entryway.
He knew at least Amy was home, because he'd seen her car in the driveway, so no response generally meant she was out in the pool. Artie was headed towards the back door when he nearly ran into his sister, coming back in with her swimsuit on, a towel wrapped around her waist, already noticeably tanner after her trip to Mexico.
"Artie!" she leaned down to wrapped her arms around him. "Welcome back. It's been so strange without you home."
"Why, because I got a life?" Artie grinned at her. He couldn't help but be a little proud of himself, for venturing away from home alone for the first time. "And speaking of getting a life, who is this Amy Abrams who goes to Mexico for spring break now?"
"Thanks, I'm not sure who she is either, to be honest," Amy said, with a laugh. "Oh, by the way, Quinn's in the pool but she said she's about to go. Better go catch her before she does."
Artie's face lit up at the mention of person he'd been longing to see ever since he left. They'd texted a lot, called a couple times, and had mostly chatted about Quinn's progress in physio. Joe had been going with her, but Artie hadn't felt right about not being there. He knew she'd never fault him for supporting Sam, but still, he hated that he couldn't be there for her, too.
Quinn was gliding across the pool with long strokes as he let himself into the backyard. He rolled himself down to the edge of the pool and was debating getting right on in with her, clothes and all, when he noticed something odd. There wasn't a wheelchair waiting there. In place of her wheelchair sat one of those walkers with a seat. He was staring at it as she resurfaced.
"Artie! Oh... yeah... you noticed," she trailed off, giving him a huge grin as she made her way to the ledge that went along the side and took a seat on it. She nodded in the direction of the walker. "I left the chair at home when I came over today. I've just started using this some of the time."
She had kept this little detail from him during all their texts and conversations about physio. Clearly, she'd wanted it to be a surprise for him. Amy stepped back out at that moment, and Artie heard her giggle from behind him. He was still trying to process the news and didn't really know what to say or how to react at first.
"Artie is speechless," Amy said, coming up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder that was probably meant to be reassuring. Because she, like everyone, assumed this would upset him somehow. "For the first time ever, I think."
"No, I'm just..." Artie struggled to put this thoughts into words. "Uh, I just didn't know you'd already be doing this, Q. This is... this is incredible."
"Ready for me to help you get out, Quinn?" Amy asked her, coming over to the edge and bending down.
It seemed they'd already established some kind of routine around the use of the walker at the pool. Artie rolled back a pace and watched Amy help Quinn ease herself out out of the water, so that she was seated on the pavement by her walker. Amy handed Quinn her sandals, which had straps and buckles, so that they stayed securely in place. Once Quinn had her shoes back on, she was ready. Amy stayed nearby as Quinn turned around and carefully got herself into position in order to push up to standing, while holding on tightly to the walker.
"What you just saw was the hardest part," Quinn said, a bit breathlessly as she got to her feet. "The actual walking..." And she edged the walker forward ever so slightly, taking a stiff step behind it. "... is easier. See?"
"Look at you," he said, as a huge smile stretched across his face, causing Quinn's nervous expression to change into one that matched his. "This is amazing. I can't wait until Monday, when you show everyone–"
"No," Quinn said, cutting him off right there. "No."
"Why not?" Amy wanted to know. "This is huge."
"Because..." Quinn twisted back around and took a seat on the chair part of the walker. "Because I just started. It has to be real. I mean... you know, maybe if I practiced a lot, I could walk into the choir room. Or even prom."
"But prom's still a week away," Artie pointed out, with a deep frown, trying to figure out if Quinn was saying what he thought she was saying.
"Exactly," Quinn said. "In about a week, I'm sure I'll be doing much better. So until then, promise you won't tell anybody. The only other person aside from my family who knows about it is Joe.
"Okay, I can keep a secret..." Artie said, though this one had stumped him. If he'd been in the position to walk again, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from spreading his good news far and wide. But Quinn wanted to wait until she was confident she wasn't going to fall on her face. He supposed that made sense too.
"Thank you," she said, smiling as they made eye contact, face to face on the same level for the time being, until she twisted around and pushed herself back to standing again. He gazed up at her with admiration as she did so.
"You're gonna be dancing at prom," Artie heard himself say, mindful of Amy's scrutinizing look all the while. "I know it."
On Monday morning, shortly after the first bell, the morning announcements concluded with the nominees for prom court. For King, Rick "The Stick" Nelson, Finn Hudson, and (inexplicably), President Brittany S. Pierce. For Queen, Missy Gunderson, Santana Lopez, and Quinn Fabray.
At Glee club, Mr. Schue got up and started out by congratulating all of the prom nominees. Who would have ever thought four out of six would be in this room?
"We are all winners," he went on to say, as he straightened his vest. "Because Principal Figgins asked New Directions to sing again this year!"
A few people looked like this was akin to singing in classrooms for the holidays. Some of them probably just wanted to dance with their dates and not worrying about performing. But as for Artie, who didn't have a date, performing sounded like a great way to pass the time instead of sitting around and feeling awkward. At least when he was on stage, being dateless didn't matter.
"Brittany has an announcement," Mr. Schue was saying, as the reigning president of the senior class – even despite the fact that she'd recently learned she wouldn't be graduating that year – rose and went to the front of the room.
"Hello, my fellow Americans," she addressed them. "The theme for this year's prom will be.. dinosaurs!"
"Sheer genius," Santana remarked from the back of the room, beaming at her.
"Thanks," Brittany said, with a curtsy. "I was inspired by the new girl Joe, who reminds me of a cavewoman." (Joe's jaw dropped as he looked around the room at the others in disbelief.) "The refreshments will be berries, meat, and rainwater. And, as you are no doubt aware, the U.S. elections are riddled with corruption. Therefore, to keep the prom elections completely aboveboard, I have appointed Santana and Quinn to count the ballots."
"What? That makes no sense!" Kurt exclaimed
"Shut it, Richard Simmons," Santana objected. "Quinn's my homegirl. But I don't trust her, and you know she doesn't trust me."
"We'll keep each other honest," Quinn added, nodding as though she saw the sense in it now.
"You know, it's actually not a bad idea," Mercedes mused.
"And last but not least," Brittany continued importantly. "All hair gel has been banned from the prom."
"Right," Blaine said, with a chuckle.
"I'm actually not joking." Brittany fixed him with a serious look. "Hair gel was not invented until almost 30 million years after the Upper Paleolithic Stone Age. And frankly, I don't like the way you look. Therefore, anyone who shows up to prom wearing hair gel will be turned away at the door. I hereby decree this to be the best prom ever!"
"Oh-kaaaay," Mr. Schue just looked at them, none of them phased by Brittany anymore, aside from Blaine, who already looked distraught over the thought of not wearing hair gel. "Let's start thinking of... dinosaur songs."
After Glee club, Rachel had claimed the alcove for herself and was having a good pout. Artie just so happened to be the first person to happen upon her and made the mistake of asking her what was wrong.
"I don't want to watch Finn and Quinn get crowned the king and queen at my prom," Rachel blurted out, her pout intensifying. "I don't want to watch him dance with her. I-I know that she can't really dance anymore, but..." And Rachel trailed off, when she remembered who she was saying this to. "I'm sorry. You know... you know what I mean."
"She's right," said another voice, and they both looked up to see Kurt standing there, arms folded tightly across his body, accompanied by Blaine. "Prom sucks."
"Yeah," Blaine agreed.
"I don't want to go, either," said Kurt.
"Well, you have to go," Blaine reminded him. "You're the reigning prom queen. You have to crown the next one."
Everyone knew Kurt wanted to forget last year, when despite him being a junior and a guy, he had been crowned prom queen. Apparently this was just setting the stage for more unconventional, gender-swapped candidates in the future.
"As much as I love a good coronation, I can't risk it," Kurt said, with an eye roll. "With this school's strong and insane tradition of write-in ballots, I could get elected prom queen again, all right? And I know I put on a brave face last year, but it was humiliating. And, had I known, I would have worn a full kilt, so..."
"How do you think I feel with Brittany's insane ban on hair gel?" Blaine piped up.
Rachel just looked at Artie, and it seemed she had resigned herself to listening to their problems rather than airing out hers. There was a first for everything.
"There are going to be balloons all over the place, not to mention the taffeta and the silk blends. The sheer amount of static electricity in that room is going to be terrifying," Blaine's voice kept getting higher and more distraught by the minute. "You've never seen my hair without gel..."
"It's fine," Kurt tried to console him.
"No," Blaine said, crossing his arms and pouting. "I'm going to look like Medusa." He scowled at Artie when he couldn't hold in a laugh. "It's not funny. I don't want to go."
"Well, if we're all going to be so miserable about it..." Rachel looked inspired, which was scary, seeing as she was known for having awful ideas in the past, especially when spurred on by jealousy. "Who says we have to go? I have a better idea..."
"So Kurt, Blaine, and I are throwing an anti-prom party," Rachel announced proudly to the Glee club the next day.
"What's an anti-prom party?" Puck asked, looking intrigued.
"It's a party for those of us who maybe feel a little, you know, disenfranchised by the actual prom. And I got us a hotel room at Lima's best hotel, Red Rooster Express Suite, and everyone's invited."
"You're supporting this?" Quinn looked at Finn for answers, as she was his girlfriend, after all.
"I'm supporting her," Finn said, undeterred by Quinn giving him the third degree. "And... and I'll be there as soon as I'm done fulfilling my... obligations."
"The mood will be celebratory, the food will be catered, the libations will be plentiful, and the dress code will be... creative," Blaine said, just as Kurt had tried to finish the other's sentence with "black tie."
"Optional," Blaine supplied.
"Optional, black tie optional," Kurt agreed.
"And keeping up with the anti-prom theme," Rachel went on. "Everyone is welcome, and unlike the actual prom, which ends at 11:00 p.m., ours goes until the wee hours of the night. It's where the fun's at, you guys!"
"Okay, how is everyone welcome when this is clearly just a party for you and the two gay Winklevii twins?" And that was Santana, forever keeping it real.
"Sounds good, I'm in," Puck spoke up.
"Wait, what about your tradition of spiking Coach Sylvester's punch bowl?" Artie wanted to know. "I almost lost my teeth for it last time..."
"Can we just talk about what this really is?" Santana said, standing up and inviting herself to the front of the room. "Rachel Berry isn't getting her way, so she's punishing the rest of us."
"Santana, that's not the case at all."
"Stop acting like you're fine and start dealing with your crap," she went on, ignoring Rachel's interruption. "Look, you have to watch your boyfriend and his ex lose to me and Brittany, and you didn't get nominated at all. I get it. I'm sorry, but it happens. And I understand that you're pissed off at the universe, but imploding on one of the last nights that we have to spend together because, basically, you're just not in the mood to dance is maybe the pettiest thing you have ever done. So have fun at your 'I'm a victim' party, because me, I'm going to go to my senior prom with my girlfriend and my friends."
Luckily, for Mr. Schue, who looked like he regretted not cutting off Santana's rant any sooner, the bell rang to signal the end of after school activities for the day.
Artie was meeting Sam after practice to lift weights that day, then giving him a ride home afterwards. Today, as luck would have it, Joe was there. If Sam hadn't been there, too, he and Artie could have talked about the thing they weren't supposed to talk about. But he was, so they didn't.
Instead, Sam talked about his plans to take Mercedes out for dinner before prom. In order to keep it affordable, he'd come up with the creative idea of a fast-food picnic at the park, as long as the weather was comfortable. Artie was impressed. And the best part was, Mercedes would love it, because she wasn't the type of girl to expect something expensive and would instead appreciate the originality of the idea.
"Should I do something like that for Quinn?" Joe wanted to know, looking worried, as he set the weights aside. "Oh, speaking of Quinn, I forgot she wants me to hang some posters for her. I guess I'll have to lift tomorrow. See you guys."
"Seriously, how did he end up with her?" Sam wanted to know, as soon as Joe had left. Artie just snickered, not above having a laugh at Joe's expense.
After finishing up, Artie and Sam exited the weight room together, passing a bunch of prom posters on the way out. Several of the candidates had put them up over the course of the day, all of them competing to have the biggest poster with the most eye-catching design.
Sure enough, Quinn had added hers. She'd decided to campaign with Finn and they had made a poster together, which was only going to fuel Rachel's rage fire. But that wasn't the part Artie noticed. Quinn had used full body pictures of she and Finn, and she'd shown herself in her wheelchair.
Why? Artie didn't think it necessary, especially when she was going to be getting out of it soon. As he studied the photo, he was struck with a terrible thought. She's trying to use the chair for pity votes.