Three was a crowd. Now that Joe was accustomed to going with Quinn to her physio sessions, it wasn't like he was going to stop just because Artie was back. In fact, now that Quinn was practicing her walking, he was able to help more, whereas Artie wasn't. And after twenty solid minutes of watching Joe Hart shameless flirt with Quinn under the guise of "helping," Artie finally just disconnected. Quinn caught him playing on his phone towards the end of her session.
"Am I boring you?" she asked, trying to sound like she was teasing him but probably asking an actual question.
"No... I'm just not much help to you anymore," he said, pocketing his phone and unlocking his brakes. "I should probably cut out early. Lots of homework."
And with that, he rather abruptly left, knowing she was going to ask for an explanation from him later. He couldn't help how he was feeling. The more he thought about those posters, the angrier he was about it. And maybe that was his real reason for being cold and distant. Quinn had put up tons of them, all over school, and all of them were the same: Quinn in her chair next to Finn.
Only she didn't call him later, like he'd expected. Either she was too busy to realize he was upset about something or she just didn't care that much. Now she was the cold and distant one. Whatever the case, he went to bed upset about it, didn't sleep well, and was still in a bad mood the next morning.
His mother could read him like an open book, so when she came across him scrolling mindlessly through his phone and taking his sweet time with his morning coffee, completely unbothered by the clock in the kitchen and the possibility of tardiness, she knew something was wrong.
"Does this... mood... of yours have anything to do with Quinn?" she guessed, taking a seat next to him at the table and ruffling his hair. "I saw her out there with her walker the other night. Do you want to talk about it?"
Well, that was part of it. He didn't want to tell his mother about the posters because he was still trying to convince himself that Quinn wasn't actually trying to use her chair to gain pity votes. But his mother was maybe the only person he could really open up to, about all the feelings he was experiencing now that Quinn was so much closer to walking again.
"I did like showing someone what it's like to be me," he said, knowing his mother was the one person who wouldn't judge him for saying this. "I showed her how to handle the amusement park... ramps... Target. That whole time, it was like I was her mentor. Her big brother. The wise one that had gone before. And now..." he shrugged, unable to find the words to finish that thought. Now I'm useless again.
"You know, sweetheart..." his mother looked thoughtful, as she reached over to brush his bangs out of his eyes. "I had hoped, over time, you might develop some sense of actual pride about your disability. And when I was watching you help Quinn, what I realized is that... you have. You went from a scared kid who didn't want to go back to school, didn't want anyone to look at you, to someone who signed up for a club where singing and dancing were required and absolutely made that club better just by being there. And now you're someone who isn't afraid to tell people what it's like. You take pride in that, Artie. With or without someone like you by your side."
This was what his mom did best. She always had a way with words, even when Artie himself hadn't been able to define his own feelings. But she was right. He was proud. And he wasn't about to let someone take that pride and make a mockery of it, even if that person was a friend.
He arrived at school with a brand new resolve to not do his usual avoiding-conflict-at-all-costs thing. Sure, he'd built his whole persona around conflict avoidance, but no, not today.
But as he turned the corner, he was greeted by a different opportunity. Not an opportunity to confront Quinn, but a chance to spy on her. She was locked in what looked like a serious conversation with Finn, who towered over her as she faced him squarely in her chair. To even notice Artie, she'd have to do a hard pivot. He subtly opened an empty bottom locker and hid himself behind the door to eavesdrop. Thankfully, Finn didn't appear to notice him.
"You can't be too pleased by that stunt Rachel's pulling," Quinn was saying.
"I'm not, but I kind of feel bad for her," Finn said, shrugging and looking like an unwilling participant in this conversation. "She's going through a lot of rough stuff."
"Rough stuff?" Quinn scoffed. "Did you forget that you're talking to a girl in a wheelchair?" And she wheeled a little closer to Finn, which meant he had to angle his neck even more severely to look at her. "We've come full circle."
"Yeah, just like old times." Even Finn – who was so serious about Rachel that he sometimes talked about marriage – was susceptible to Quinn's charm.
"Though, to be clear, there will be no extracurricular activity this time," Quinn said, sharply. "I'm going to Yale."
They were interrupted by this girl that Artie kind of knew from Brainiacs and jazz band. Her name was Wendy, and she was just one of those girls that blended in with the crowd and joined every school committee known to man because she genuinely cared about stuff like that. She wasn't all that pretty but she was nice. Anyway, Wendy had her eyes locked on Quinn.
"Oh, my God. Quinn Fabray... you're so brave to be doing this," Wendy gushed.
This referred to running for prom queen, despite being in a wheelchair. Artie waited for Quinn to explain that she was getting better, that the wheelchair was only temporary, and that with any luck, she hoped to be dancing again in Glee club by the time they went to Nationals.
"Thank you," was what Quinn said instead. "The atrophy in my leg is a constant reminder of the slow, withering remnants of my past life. The toll can, at times, be physically and emotionally hard, knowing that I may never walk again. People like you inspire me. Your healthy, normal legs are beautiful."
Wendy looked down at her own legs and then back at Quinn, her eyes filling with tears. "You deserve this," she choked out. "You've got my vote."
Finn watched Wendy go, then turned to face Quinn, looking completely alienated by what he'd just seen. "Wow, that was super creepy," he said.
"It won't be when we're standing up on that stage, soaking up the applause," Quinn said, sounding aloof and unconcerned about the fact that she'd just lied to some random girl.
"Don't you feel kind of weird using your injury to get the sympathy vote like that?" Finn wanted to know.
Yeah, Artie thought, glad Finn was the voice of reason here, as he was asking the very thing Artie wanted to know.
"No, I mean, my legs are getting better, but I wanted it to be a surprise," Quinn tried to explain, repeating what she'd told Amy and Artie at the pool a few days earlier. "You know, for when I walk up there and... and get my crown. The crowd will go wild."
And Finn just stared at her as though she'd lost her mind. She unlocked her wheels in preparation to go.
"Votes are votes, Finn," she finally said. "Do you want to win or not?"
And as she pushed her wheels to go around him, Artie sat behind that locker, still trying to digest what he'd just heard.
"Sorry you had to hear that," Finn said, as he closed the locker door, letting Artie know he'd been busted and that Finn knew he was there all along. "You know, I thought about telling her you were behind her, listening to the whole thing..."
"Glad you didn't," Artie said, curtly. "I wanna handle this one myself, actually. I'm gonna let her know that I heard what she said and that I don't appreciate it."
Finn's eyebrows went up, and Artie knew it was because he probably didn't expect Artie to confront Quinn about her behavior. No one would have expected that of the typically passive Artie Abrams.
"I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with those posters," Finn informed him. "Not really, I mean. We talked about it briefly, and I told her I didn't really want to make any posters. She asked if she could make one for the both of us. I said she could, but I didn't know it would be..." And Finn looked over his shoulder, for one was hung nearby. "That."
"Yeah, that's..." Artie trailed off. "Was Rachel mad?"
"Oh, she was furious," Finn said. "And it only made her that much more set on not going to the prom. I didn't really think about how it made me and Quinn look like a couple again..." He turned and looked at the poster. "Part of me wants to rip them all down. I'm sure you'd do it, if you could reach, right? Want me to do it for both of us?"
But Artie shook his head. "Nope, that's too passive," he told Finn. "Then she won't even know who did it. I'll talk to her."
He finally caught up to her after lunch. She'd tried to sit with Finn, it looked like, but wise to what she was doing, he'd left his usual table and opted to find a private spot with Rachel. Quinn stayed where she was, given that she was surrounded by popular kids, only increasing her cool factor.
Artie really missed the Quinn who sometimes snuck off to eat in a private alcove, even if it was for reasons like being pregnant and self-conscious. At least that Quinn was humble.
Anyway, he finally spotted her, trying to push her way through the crowd to get back inside, instead of using the steep ramp to go in the back way like he'd shown her. So, though he'd planned to have a private, mature conversation with her, that suddenly went out the window.
"Yo, Quinn!" he yelled, getting her to turn and look over her shoulder, finally noticing him for the first time all day. "Don't you want to come with me up the ramp? Of course, you always could use the stairs if you want!"
That got her attention. She turned sharply and wheeled towards him. She looked to her right and left before speaking under her breath. "I told you not to say anything yet."
"Yeah, I know," he said, giving her a smug look before wheeling in the opposite direction towards his ramp. He didn't bother to speak softly. "You wanna have your big reveal at prom, after you get everyone's votes out of pity!"
She wheeled furiously to catch up with him. Aware of her struggling, he just continued to wheel towards his ramp, acting unbothered by Quinn trailing behind. A small part of him remembered he was supposed to be quietly taking her aside to show her the err of her ways. But that was not what was happening.
"Artie, that's not it at all," she said, getting louder as they separated themselves from the crowd and headed around to the back of the school. "I told you, I'm just not strong enough yet. I'll do it when the time is right."
"Really?" Artie stopped when he got to the bottom of the ramp and finally turned himself to face her. He stared hard, willing her to tell the truth, and she couldn't maintain eye contact. She dropped her eyes to her lap. "Because the way I heard it, the atrophy in your legs is a slow, withering remnant of your past life, since you may never walk again."
She raised her eyes and stared at him, aghast, no doubt wondering where he had heard those exact words. "Did Finn–?"
"Finn didn't tell me, no," Artie cut her off, staring intensely, now that she was looking at him again. "He didn't have to tell me, because I was there. I was behind you. I heard what you told that girl, Quinn, and it's really messed up."
Quinn started to cry then, and it was strikingly similar to the way she'd cried when it had come out that Puck, not Finn, was the father of her baby. It was the sort of cry from someone who had just been caught with her lies and was now out of other options. Artie didn't buy it for a second.
"For one thing," he went on, as if she wasn't dissolving into tears right in front of him. "If you'd really ever been told you were never going to walk again, you wouldn't be able to casually discuss it with anyone like you did in there. For another thing, this–" he hiked up a pant leg and gestured at his leg "–is what atrophy looks like and yeah, it does have a way of reminding you of what you lost, not that you could ever understand what that feels like. You get to be normal again. I don't."
It was strikingly similar to what he'd told Tina, when he'd found out her stutter had been a lie. But he'd never expected anyone else to make him feel that way. Definitely not her. And because of how she'd reminded him of that moment, he was angrier than he'd realized. Too angry to actually have a conversation with her, like he had planned on doing.
He whipped around and pushed his way up the ramp of doom at record pace, fueling by his anger, he supposed. He disappeared through the door that led into the library, knowing that even if she tried to follow him now, she wouldn't be able to get up there nearly as fast as he had. He weaved his way quickly around the tables and down a row of books, nearly knocking over Lauren Zizes in the process.
"Whoa, I'm a person, not a bowling pin!" she cried out. "Hey... are you okay?"
They hadn't really seen Lauren, Puck's former flame, since she'd quit Glee club. Sure, she'd been around, but this was the first encounter Artie had really had with her all year. And, though she was not high on his list of potential confidants, he shook his head anyway, indicating that he wasn't okay.
Lauren sat down at a nearby table to address him. "It's the Quinn thing, isn't it?" she asked, sagely. "I'm friends with a couple of people who heard her say she'd never walk again. Which is weird, because I heard that she was in this intense therapy and was trying to walk again by the time you Glee nerds go to Nationals. So, which is it?"
"The second one," Artie said, impressed with Lauren's sleuthing until he remembered that this was the girl who'd dug up the dirt on Quinn's former identity last year, and that she would stop at no lengths to find the dirt on people, like a female version of Jacob Ben Israel.
"Ah," Lauren said. "So, I'm gonna venture out on a limb here and guess that you weren't too thrilled with all those posters depicting Quinn as the girl in the wheelchair?"
Artie just shook his head, as he continued to let Lauren put all the pieces together herself, seeing as she was doing a great job of that without his input.
"Yeah, I was actually thinking about voting for her before she did that," Lauren mused. "Mostly just so Santana would lose. Now I think I'll throw my support to Missy Gunderson. I don't think Fabray's ever going to learn just to be herself."
"Which is too bad, because she's actually incredible," Artie finally said. "When you get to meet the real Quinn."
"Don't you mean Lucy?" Lauren smirked.
Artie didn't want to gossip about Quinn. He'd confronted her, only he'd been much harsher than he planned to, and now remorse was beginning to set in. So, he changed the subject.
"Who are you going with to prom, Lauren?"
"You know, I was checking out that beautiful teen Jesus guy in Glee club, because I can't figure out his actual ethnicity and that always gets me going," she said, and Artie knew where this was headed and knew there would be a 'but' soon. "But you know who already snapped up that cute piece of ass before I could?"
"Quinn."
"Mm-hm, my girl Lucy," Lauren said, rolling her eyes. "See that? She took your status as the wheelchair kid in Glee club and now she took my man-candy, too."
Now Artie had to have a laugh at that, and Lauren grinned, clearly pleased that he enjoyed her humor. He didn't know what possessed him, however, to do what he did next.
"Want to go with me?"
Lauren's grin faded into a confused look, then a smirk, then back to the confused look. "Wait," she said. "You're... you're serious. You and me?"
"Why not?" Artie was feeling more and more confident about his idea to ask Lauren Zizes. "As friends. We'd have fun. We could go out to dinner before the dance, maybe just something simple like fast food since all the nice places have reservations, if that's okay."
Lauren tilted her head to the side and looked thoughtful, like she was considering his offer. "Okay, on two conditions," she finally said. "Number one, I don't want to push your chair around like all your past dates. And number two, I'd like to respectfully decline any dance that requires me to sit on you."
"Done and done," Artie said, not sure if he was allowed to laugh at that second condition.
"Well," she said. "In that case, I'll give you my address, pick me up at six and, oh yeah, I'm just wearing my dark blue dress again. So that should be easy enough for you to match, or whatever, if you want to get me a wrist corsage."
By if you want to, Artie took that to mean get me a wrist corsage. And, just like that, he now had a prom date with one Lauren Zizes.
Because news like this tended to spread quickly – maybe Lauren told Jacob Ben Israel – by the time Artie got to Glee club practice after school, everyone already knew that he was now taking Lauren to prom.
"You're going to prom with Lauren Zizes?" Quinn was the first to come directly to him about it. She was backing her chair into the space at the end of the first row. "What, is this just to like, get back at me or something?"
"Has nothing to do with you," Artie shot back, as he backed his own chair into the opposite end, leaning across the entire front row to speak to her. "Shocker, I know."
"Artie?" That was Tina, as she took her seat next to Mike in the back. "What's this about?"
Artie set his eyes towards the front of the room, choosing to ignore Tina's question as he crossed his arms in front of his body.
"Quinn?" Tina tried again.
"Artie didn't like my posters," Quinn finally said. She leaned over again, trying to get Artie's attention. The entire front row looked back and forth between them, like they were watching a tennis match. "I took them all down, okay? Well, I had Joe do it."
"Again, it has nothing to do with you," Artie said, refusing to even look at her. "I ran into Lauren, she didn't have a date, neither did I, so now we both have someone. End of story."
"She tends to find you when you least expect it," Puck commented. "Which is kind of surprising, I mean, you wouldn't expect her to be very good at hiding, would you?"
"Okay," Mr. Schue took his place at the front of the room, eager to put a stop to whatever drama was taking place at the beginning of their time together today. He looked surprised to see Artie was involved. "We have a lot to do today, so we need to get started. It's time to select our setlist for the prom."
"Oh, dear Lord, shouldn't we be focusing on Nationals?" Blaine massaged his temples, which were adjacent to his perfectly gelled coif, the one he was so concerned about protecting.
"Prom first," Mr. Schue said, giving Blaine a sharp look. "C'mon, who has something they'd like to sing?"