Chapter 26: Girls (and Boys) on Film

SEBASTIAN

Who would have thought that spending his days working at the ice cream shop would end up being one of the highlights of Sebastian's summer? He certainly hadn't. But that's how it worked out. As it happened, Seb liked spending time with Sam, and he enjoyed the sense of pride he felt when he got to pocket a couple of dollar bills here and there when customers tipped him. It felt kind of silly admitting it, but he didn't care. It was the truth.

"You think you'll continue to work here once school starts?" Sam asked him, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning over. They were the only ones scheduled for the morning shift, and it had been a pretty slow day so far. "I think they stay open until mid-October or something before closing for the winter."

"I don't know." Sebastian shrugged. "You know, between shuttling back and forth between here and Westerville and everything. I really like it here, and I wish I could make it work to stick around for the fall, but I just don't think I'll have the time. Right now, I'm just soaking up the freedom that comes with staying close to home during the summer. I'm glad that my injury didn't sideline me for more than a couple of days."

"Guess you have Artie to thank for that, huh?"

"Totally."

Ever since Artie had suggested that he use a rolling stool while on the clock, Sebastian's life had been much easier. His foot was thanking him, too. Most of the swelling had gone down and he'd been able to start taking just a dose of ibuprofen every few hours instead of the strong prescription stuff that Artie had initially offered him. All signs were pointing to the fact that he was on the mend, but Sebastian was focused on exercising what little patience he possessed to remind himself not to rush things.

"The stool's been a game changer. The doctor had said that I could ditch the crutches when the pain and swelling had gone down, but I'm still being cautious and using them for now," Sebastian told Sam. "The only thing worse than having to use crutches for a week would be if my stubborn side won out and I got rid of them too early. If my foot started hurting again, I'd have to start back at square one. And Artie's depending on me to lead his movie. I need to be on two feet– dancing, preferably!– by Thursday."

All of their friends were abuzz about the upcoming shoot. After getting their scripts hand-delivered to them on Sunday, everyone had gotten right to work learning their lines before Mike taught them their choreography at the rehearsals scheduled for that afternoon and the following day. That morning, Artie had sent out a mass text to everyone telling them to arrive on time, focused, and ready to put in some work. He needed everyone to be on their A-game with no goofing off. They were running on a tight schedule– they simply didn't have the time for hysterics or setbacks.

"I have my lines down, but I'm worried about picking up the choreography under such a time crunch while my foot is still not one hundred percent," Sebastian continued, using his good foot to rock himself back and forth on his stool. "Art said they could get creative with the camera angles and have Mike fill in as a dance double for me and only film his lower half, but I don't want that. I want to be able to fully participate, you know? Artie cast me as a lead for a reason, I don't want to let him down."

"Yeah, I get that. But you won't let him down. He's smart, he knew what he was doing when he cast you in that role," Sam assured him.

"I guess you're right," Seb relented. "What about you? Are you off-book yet?"

Sam appeared to struggle with himself for a moment before eventually shaking his head. "No," he admitted, nervously chewing on his enormous lower lip. "I'm dyslexic, so none of that stuff comes easy to me. The reading stuff. I have to go slow because the words get all jumbled around in my head, and then that ends up giving me a headache or making me sleepy."

"Oh," was Sebastian's response. His friendship with Sam was still relatively new, so it was no wonder that he didn't know many personal details about the other guy. "I didn't know that you have dyslexia."

"Yeah, it's whatever." He shrugged, unbothered. "I was diagnosed pretty late. I think I was, like, ten or eleven. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn't get the letters on the pages of the books I was reading to make any sense. It was like alphabet soup in my brain," Sam told him. "My parents had noticed something was up, but we didn't have the money to get me tested privately. They kept asking my teachers what they thought was wrong, but I think a lot of them chalked it up to me being the class clown. They thought I was trying to goof off. Then, luckily, my fifth grade teacher recognized the patterns in my reading mishaps and got the school to sponsor my test."

Sebastian nodded. Now and then there would be a day at the shop where the customers were few and far between and they'd find themselves with some downtime and the opportunity to just talk. Between learning about his family's money and housing struggles, to finding out that he's dyslexic, Sebastian had the chance to learn more about Sam this summer than he probably ever would have otherwise.

"Ever since we were able to determine what the problem was, reading's been easier, but it can still be kind of time consuming. I usually record myself reading my lines once then listen to the recording over and over again until it seeps into my brain and I have it memorized. Once it's memorized, it's locked in there for good," Sam said, knocking on his skull with his knuckles and earning him a smirk from Sebastian.

"Artie's the best, though," Sam continued. "He made sure that my lines weren't too complex or wordy, and before he gave me my script, he went through it and highlighted all of my lines and any specific stage directions I needed to know, and told me not to worry myself with everything else. Blaine helped me record all of my lines last night, but I've still gotta listen to it a bunch more so that everything gets really stuck in there."

On the outside, Sam seemed like any other popular jock, but Sebastian had quickly learned that he was a lot more than what meets the eye. Not being able to read effectively until fifth grade?! Sebastian couldn't even imagine what that would have been like.

Well, actually, he did have somewhat of an idea…

"I kind of understand what it's like to feel so behind your peers," Seb admitted, busying himself with picking at a hangnail and not bothering to make eye contact with Sam.

The way that the blonde guy always wore his heart on his sleeve and was so understanding and vulnerable with others made Sebastian want to show him the same courtesy. Even if it meant sharing something with Sam that he'd never shared with anyone– not even his siblings.

"You see, I grew up in Paris and went to a typical French day school where we took English class once a day. I was the most advanced one in my class because I spoke the language with my dad all the time at home, but when we moved to Ohio, I remember feeling so behind," he confessed. "I was used to French being my primary language and having all of my lessons taught in it, so when they were all in English… I didn't know what to make of it at first. Even though I'd been speaking the language all my life, it still took some getting used to. I… struggled there for a bit."

Sam blinked at him for a second before cocking his head to the side, making him look like a confused golden retriever. "Wait, you speak French?"

"I am French."

"You don't seem French."

Sebastian had heard that his whole life. Well, since he'd moved to the States. He hated when people said it. Because what was he supposed to say to that? Was having a French mom and growing up there not enough?

"Yeah, well, I left my tricolor flag, beret, and baguette at home today. Sorry to disappoint."

As soon as the snarky, deadpan comment left his lips, he immediately regretted it. It wasn't Sam's fault that the particular comment he made had struck a nerve. Luckily, though, it didn't appear like Sam was moved by his snippiness.

"Well, where's your accent?" Sam wanted to know, narrowing his eyes. "Like André the Giant in The Princess Bride? Or… the characters in Ratatouille? You don't sound like any of them."

Choosing to ignore the fact that André the Giant and Ratatouille were apparently Sam's only connections to French culture, Sebastian just shrugged. "I used to have a little bit of an accent, I guess. But I worked so hard to hide it when we first moved here to fit in with all of the Midwestern kids that, eventually, it went away on its own."

"Say something in French."

"What? No."

Lucky for Sebastian, he was saved from further interrogation by the arrival of a family at the window ready to order their ice cream. Sam served them with his trademark cheerfulness, likeability, and patience– three things Sebastian knew he didn't have. Especially not at this particular moment.

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest as he sat on his stool, regretting that he'd said anything at all. He'd thought that maybe he was ready to have these conversations, but he wasn't.

As irritating as the inconsequential comments that he didn't know how to respond to were, it was the unintentional erasure of a part of himself that bothered Sebastian the most. The only part of his identity that still connected him with his mom.

He knew it wasn't obvious– not like Artie's bad eyesight that he'd inherited, or Sam's trouty mouth. After all, somewhere along the way, what little remained of his French accent had been lost. It was no wonder people would be surprised to find out this tidbit about him. But it was still a part of himself that made him unique and allowed him to still feel connected to his mother, even though she'd been gone for eight years. He wished he had more, but he didn't. All he had was his nationality, and even on the rare occasion that he boasted that proudly, he was told he wasn't enough. It sucked.

Despite the confessional mood he'd been in just a few minutes before, Sebastian knew that he didn't want to explain all of this to Sam. Sweet, understanding, well-meaning Sam. He'd done enough opening up to him for one day.

Then, watching as Sam meticulously counted the customers' change, Sebastian got an idea.

Artie had been nagging him for weeks to, at the very least, come up with a subject for his college essay ("So that, even if you aren't going to spend the time writing it yet, you can at least begin thinking about it," Artie had begged). Sebastian had given in begrudgingly. If nothing else, he was just hoping to appease his brother and get him off of his case. Despite the bit of thinking he'd done so far, Sebastian hadn't yet thought of a topic he felt strongly enough about to settle on.

Until now.

Staying connected to his French heritage after losing his mom and becoming an expat at the tender age of nine did make for a pretty interesting life story, even if it was on the more depressing side. It was Sebastian's very own coming-of-age tale to tell. He still needed to play around with the idea more and refine it, but it was a start. Sebastian was surprised he hadn't thought of this any sooner.

He knew that Artie would be proud of him for finally settling on a topic, and maybe attempting to put all of this down on paper would allow Sebastian to say everything he longed to about his mom and his upbringing that, up until now, he hadn't yet figured out how to put into words.

…

ARTIE

Having the undivided attention of all of his friends was Artie's happy place. The way his cast and crew hung onto his every word brought him back to the first couple of days of directing the fall musical last year. Aside from directing a replica of Madonna's 'Vogue' music video starring Sue Sylvester, Kurt, and Mercedes, that was the first set where he'd been in charge. The feeling was intoxicating, making Artie certain that he wanted to do that for the rest of his life.

"Alright," Artie called, clapping his hands together and receiving everyone's eyes on him in return. "First, I'd like to thank all of you for being here today and agreeing to take part in this project. I am very grateful to have friends like all of you who would lend me your talents for a week. And a huge thank you to Mr. Schue for chaperoning and helping grant us access to the auditorium and its air conditioning."

That got a laugh out of everyone. "It's my pleasure, Artie," Mr. Schuester replied. "I'm always happy to help." Artie gave him an appreciative smile, knowing he wasn't just saying that. It always meant a lot to have his teacher's unwavering support.

"Now, let's go over the schedule for the week," Artie said seriously, getting right down to business. "We don't have much time, so I'm going to make this quick. We're going to rehearse the bigger dance numbers and everything that requires sets from the school first. So, that's… West Side Story, Saturday Night Fever, and Dirty Dancing," Artie reported, checking his notes. "Newsies and Roberta, you'll be on the back burner for now, and Grease, we'll rehearse later tonight at Hummel Tires and Lube. Eight o'clock sharp. Don't be late because Mr. Hummel is generously allowing us to use his space and we don't want to take advantage of that."

Was he coming off as intimidating? He hoped so. These were his friends, first and foremost, but for the next week, they were his cast. He needed their utmost cooperation.

Artie had spent a lot of time meticulously casting all of his friends into roles that he felt they'd be perfect for. It was times like these– casting for a project that his whole future could potentially depend on– that Artie really wished he had Rachel Berry at his disposal. But after the New Directions had seen her off to New York City following graduation, she had opted to stay there for the summer. Last Artie had heard, she was taking a summer class at NYADA so that she could 'be ahead of her peers come fall, when all of the other freshmen were just starting out'.

Along with assembling his perfect cast, Artie had also spent extra time trying to figure out the most efficient order in which to rehearse and shoot the different dance scenes he had planned out.

The school still had their West Side Story sets in storage from last year, so Artie wanted to rehearse the blocking and choreography of that scene first. Santana, Mercedes, and Finn were the leads in that 'America' dance scene, and the others filled in as background dancers. This choreography was the same as what they'd performed last fall, and just as Artie had expected, it was a pretty quick rehearsal, even though Finn tripped over his own feet a few times.

Songs from Saturday Night Fever and Dirty Dancing had both been covered in Glee Club before, too. Blaine would be Artie's Tony Manero and he'd get to put the light-up dance floor from their disco lesson to good use for his solo number of 'You Should Be Dancing'. Brittany and Puck would be learning the choreography from the final dance scene in Dirty Dancing, including the big lift. Artie hoped the two of them would be able to handle it.

Those three numbers were Artie's priority for the day, as he wanted to ensure that the dialogue and the stage directions worked. Only after he was able to give those numbers his seal of approval could he move on to the other three.

Tomorrow's top priority would be Kurt's big Newsies dance number to 'Seize the Day'. Mike would be teaching Kurt and the ensemble guys the choreography, and they'd be reusing an old city set from West Side Story for their backdrop. This was a micro-budget feature, after all, and they couldn't afford new, shiny sets for every scene. Artie already considered himself lucky to be able to use what was lying around McKinley.

Mike would be playing the Fred Astaire to Tina's Ginger Rogers in the Roberta 'I'll be Hard to Handle' dance scene. All of that reminiscing on their 'Dream a Little Dream of Me' dance number had present-day Artie wanting to see another dance duet from them. Mike and Tina had already assured Artie that they'd started learning the routine on their own time and would be ready to perform it for him at tomorrow's rehearsal. True professionals.

Sam's big number was 'Greased Lightning'. Danny Zuko sings it in the movie, even though it's Kenickie's number in the stage musical. They would rehearse and shoot this one on-location at the tire shop later, so Artie directed Sam to go run his lines in the choir room and said that he'd send a runner (Ella, who was his production assistant) to grab him when he was needed.

Another one of Ella's duties involved placing the different colored electrical tape on the stage, marking where each actor was supposed to stand during the scene, since Artie couldn't very well do this from his chair. Blocking for the screen was different from blocking for the stage, which is what all of his friends were used to. Artie didn't have time to teach his friends a masterclass right now, however, so in a rare release of control, Artie allowed them to do what they were comfortable with, and he would work around them. He needed to be willing to cut corners and make sacrifices where he could, as long as they didn't compromise his integrity as an artist and a filmmaker.

After rehearsing the Dirty Dancing number for a while, Puck and Brittany still hadn't mastered the lift.

"Alright, take fifteen," Artie called out. Instead of beating a dead horse when something clearly wasn't clicking, Artie offered his team a break. Everyone, including himself, could use some rest time.

Artie utilized his break time to sit off to the side on his own, munching on a bag of Goldfish while poring over his script, making edits here and there of what worked and what didn't so that he could adjust his vision accordingly.

"I'm really proud of you, Artie," said Mr. Schue, coming up from behind him. "Everyone really respects you and looks to you as a leader. It's easy to see why."

"Thanks," Artie told him, capping his red pen and sitting back in his chair. They'd only been at this for a few hours, and he was already exhausted. "Well, I'm not sure where I'd be if it wasn't for you. If you hadn't encouraged me to try my hand at directing after Bryan Ryan came and tried to dash our showbiz dreams my freshman year."

Mr. Schue laughed at that and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've come a long way since then."

Artie knew that his teacher was right.

Back then, Artie was far more timid than he is nowadays. He may have been hiding behind his out-of-style clothes and his identity as a nerd, but deep down, Artie aspired to be a leader. To have people listening to him and interested in what he had to say and share.

Mr. Schue's old classmate Bryan Ryan had come to speak to the Glee Club, telling them that their dreams of acting and dancing would never be achieved. Realistically, Artie already knew that the odds were stacked even higher against him than they were for his able-bodied friends. But to hear that told to his face so bluntly was… discouraging, to say the least.

His face must have been expressing this because one day that week after Spanish class, Mr. Schue had pulled Artie aside.

"Artie, can I see you for a moment?" Mr. Schue asked just as Artie was preparing to wheel himself down the hall to math.

"Oh. Uh, sure. Is-is everything alright?" Artie stammered.

"Yeah, sure, I was just wondering about you," Mr. Schue said, sitting on the corner of his desk as the other students filed out of the room. "You seem lost. Not like yourself. Is there something bothering you?"

Artie sighed. Was it that obvious? "Yeah. I mean, a little. I guess I'm just a little upset about what Mr. Ryan said yesterday afternoon. About how unattainable dreams in show business are." Mr. Schue was someone Artie knew he could be honest with. "And I know it was kind of a long shot, but I'd put on my paper that I wanted to be a dancer. Then he just… crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. It was a little discouraging, is all."

"Oh," his teacher said, looking guilty. Artie didn't think he had a reason to feel that way, though. Bryan Ryan had said all of that, not him. Mr. Schue would never put down his students like that. "I'm sorry, Artie. You know, I should never have allowed him to come speak to you all. He was too harsh."

"He was right, after all. My legs are never gonna work again. It was stupid for me to have even written that down. But… that's okay," Artie replied, shrugging and hoping he was coming off more unbothered than he actually felt inside. "I'm never going to dunk a basketball or kill a lion either. I need to… focus on dreams that I can make come true. I'll be okay."

"Okay… well, you're in the AV Club, right?" Mr. Schue asked, still seeming unsure of whether his student was actually okay or just hiding his true feelings beneath a façade. Artie nodded. "Have you ever thought seriously about directing anything? A movie, or maybe a play? I watched the 'Vogue' video you, Kurt, and Mercedes made, and you've got a great eye… maybe you could be a star behind the camera. Did you know that Christopher Reeve– Superman from back when I was a kid– directed a movie after his accident? In the Gloaming. It's about the AIDS crisis."

"I haven't seen it," Artie said, not bothering to bite his tongue before adding: "Seems depressing."

"Well, I know that the school library has a section of books on filmmaking, if that interests you at all," Mr. Schue told him. "Maybe you should go check those out."

"I think I will," Artie replied. He liked making movies in his free time, but he'd never considered making a career out of it someday. For the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, Artie felt a tiny glimmer of hope for his future. "Thanks, Mr. Schue."

As he did for all of his students, Mr. Schue had gone out of his way to help Artie make his dreams happen. Remembering the conversation they'd had, Mr. Schue had offered him the opportunity to direct the school musical last year, then later, the Christmas special on the public access channel. Nobody besides their families and people without cable had probably watched that, but it didn't matter. Artie had a copy to submit to the universities he was applying to, and it was a great résumé builder and conversation starter! He'd found his passion in bossing everyone around (… directing) and he felt true enlightenment for the first time since he'd learned to cook after his accident. When a man finds his calling, all is right in the world.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Artie told him. "For everything."

Being a filmmaker was difficult, daunting, time consuming work, and sometimes Artie wondered if he was ready for a life full of hardships like that. But days like today and words of encouragement coming from someone he admired like he did his teacher reminded him of all of the good that could come out of this career. And that made all of the sacrifice and uncertainty worth it.

"Alright, break time is over!" Artie called out to everyone, swiftly unlocking the brakes of his wheelchair and pushing off to center stage. "Let's run Dirty Dancing again. From the top!"