By Tuesday of the next week, little Gabe was officially a strong swimmer. The better he got, the more his mom backed off of him during the lesson. And the more Gabe's mom relaxed, the better Artie felt about his own teaching abilities. By the end of the lesson on day two of the second week, Gabe and Artie were now alone in their own corner of the pool, even tackling new strokes. Gabe's mother watched from a safe distance nearby. Artie was teaching Gabe the backstroke, mostly because he personally found it so very relaxing and so natural for his body. He was soon going to run out of things to teach this kid.
Sam still had the remainder of the group on the other side of the pool. Every now and then, when he and Artie stopped to take a break and sit on the little ledge in the deep end, Gabe would cast a wistful glance over at the other kids. Artie knew that look pretty well. He could see that Gabe wanted to be included, especially now that he was swimming just as well (and maybe even better) than those other kids. Artie knew he had to rectify the situation, and he had three days left to do it.
He'd have to start by asking Gabe's mom, since he was going to need Mrs. Arnold's blessing to do what he was envisioning. After he and Gabe both dried off and transferred back up into their chairs, with Gabe showing off some very impressive upper body strength, they wheeled over to his mother. Artie didn't want to ask Mrs. Arnold for the go-ahead to put him with the group within Gabe's earshot, lest he put her on the spot. Luckily, about that time, Blaine came over to praise Gabe for his hard work.
"Dude, you looked like you really knew what you were doing out there!" Blaine praised Artie's student. As the little boy angled his chair towards Blaine, Artie took advantage of his momentary distraction to address Mrs. Arnold.
"Could I ask you something in private?" he asked, motioning her back over to the row of chairs under the shaded area where most of the parents sat and waited.
Mrs. Arnold followed him. "Sure, what is it?"
"For the last three days, I'd really like to let Gabe go back to Sam's group," he said. "I'd still be there, but I can see that he wants to be a part of the group and, well... we should give him that. Would you be okay with putting him back in the group, with my support?"
Artie hoped he'd presented his suggestion in the best possible way. As Mrs. Arnold considered his request, Artie looked over her shoulder at an animated Gabe, explaining his technique to Blaine with huge arm movements. Now that he'd come out of his shell, everyone was enthralled by the little boy with the huge personality.
"Okay. Yes. I think you know best," Mrs. Arnold finally said, as Artie's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. But the mother smiled confidentially down at him, and he realized she still trusted him, even if it meant stepping out of her comfort zone and giving her son more freedom. And, as with directing and anything else, earning that trust was pretty crucial to getting her to go along with his idea.
Once all the parents and kids left for the day, it was their collective responsibility to make sure the pool was clean. Technically, Artie's job was done for the day at this point, but he usually stuck around. Sometimes they'd all eat lunch together between the lessons and the pool opening to the public on the picnic tables under the big pavilion. Artie liked to join them.
Kitty did not usually join them but today, it seemed, they'd finally broken her down. She'd started out by joking around with Blaine and Sam that week. From time to time, he'd even spotted her talking with Marley. If Kitty wasn't seemingly under the mistaken impression that Cheerio didn't hang out with people from other social circles, Artie felt like she would have fit in great with their little group. And today, it seemed like she'd decided to make a tiny exception. As they assembled for their usual lunch, with food they'd all brought from home to save time, Kitty slipped in quietly with her own homemade salad-in-a-jar, as if she joined them all the time.
"Kitty!" It was Blaine who made a big fuss over her presence. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"I usually eat in my car to avoid boring small talk," she said, with a smirk. "But like a fungus, you four are somehow growing on me."
"How kind of you to say," Marley commented, pausing before biting into her tuna sandwich and wrinkling her nose.
"Well, maybe we can do this when school starts," Artie said, feeling awfully bold all of a sudden, and willing to put himself out there with this suggestion. "You know, us all eating lunch together?"
"Maybe," Kitty said, noncommittally, as she unscrewed the lid of her salad jar and seemed to avoid making direct eye contact as she spoke, which didn't sound very promising. But Artie's new theory, now that he had one year left, was that it was worth it to put himself out there. Besides, he needed to make friends with Cheerios this year if he wanted to fill a stage with dancers during 'Hand Jive.'
"Hey, Sam," Artie said, changing the subject and giving Kitty a break from being put on the spot. "I talked to Gabe's mom after the lesson. She agreed to let us integrate him back into the group, starting tomorrow."
Sam's response was to give Artie a wide-eyed stare, his mouth slightly open. "Why would you do that?" he wanted to know. "I mean... Gabe's doing so well with his private lessons with you. And... and my group's kind of rowdy. What if he gets kicked in the face or something?"
"Then... he swallows a little bit of pool water and keeps going." Artie noticed Blaine had nodded along with what Sam had said and shot them both confused looks. "Seriously? I thought you'd see it as a good thing. He's more than ready, and he wants to be a part of your group so badly."
"Sam's point is valid, though, Artie," Blaine said, gently. "We don't want to see him get hurt."
"He's already hurt," Artie said, sharply, sounding more intense than he meant to be. Sam and Blaine positively cowered, Marley looked upset, and Kitty just looked a little bit intrigued. "What I mean is... Gabe already has to sit out of lots of things as it is.This doesn't have to be one of them. He just wants to be like everyone else."
He stopped mid-plea, even though he could have gone on a lot longer. Four sets of eyes stared at him, surprised by the outburst. Sam was the first one to finally speak.
"I didn't think about him feeling left out," he admitted. "I thought, you know, that it was better for you to teach him apart from the rest because the skills he needs are so different."
"Not all that different," Artie corrected him. "And anyway, he has the skills he needs now. Now he just needs to feel included. That's the really important thing."
"Yeah, I'm beginning to see that more clearly now." Sam hadn't considered it from that point of view, Artie knew that. He knew he hadn't purposely excluded the little boy. Sam looked really apologetic now. "You must relate."
"It for sure hits close to home..." Artie said, his eyes flickering to Marley for a minute. He really didn't want to linger on this in front of her for long. She already looked sad for him as it was, and pity was not the thing he wanted. "Anyway, I'm sorry if I was kind of forceful. And for not talking to you first. I just had a minute alone with his mom so I went ahead and asked her."
"No, I'm glad you did," Sam said, quickly. "Really."
"It's cool that you advocated for that kid," Blaine added.
Advocated? Blaine's word choice made him pause. Others, especially his family, had always advocated on his behalf. And recently, he'd gotten better at advocating for himself when he needed to. But this was the first time he could ever remember doing that for someone else. And it felt really good. It felt like something he'd been preparing to do for quite sometime. He smiled at Blaine's comment.
Later that same day, after he'd gone for a private swim of his own in the backyard, helped his mother prepare dinner, and showered before dinner, he had a few minutes to stretch out on his bed and just relax. And reflect. He was still thinking about what Blaine had said. It reminded him of the first time he'd advocated for himself, and one of the many times he recalled his parents doing so...
"We were just talking about you, son," his dad said, warmly, not even asking what both his children were doing there, barging into the office uninvited and interrupting the meeting between Artie's parents, his teacher, and the school principal. "I think it wouldn't hurt if you were a part of this."
"Amy, you however," his mother said, after she'd recovered from the shock of seeing both of them. "You need to get to class."
"Fine, but you need to know, those stupid kids put a box of diapers on his desk!" Amy blurted out, before they could make her leave.
Artie wheeled inside, taking a place for himself at the end of the table, as his older sister turned and left in a huff.
"Is this true, Artie?" Mrs. Duncan, his teacher, wore a look of complete shock, and Artie couldn't believe that she'd be that surprised, given who was in her class. Azimio... Karofsky... Puck.
"Yeah," Artie said, wringing his hands under the table. He looked at his principal when he said the next part. He had never, ever been in trouble, so until he became the kid in the wheelchair, he was fairly certain that Mr. Nelson didn't even know who he was. "I don't want to go back to that class."
"I don't know if we could change your class, this late in the year," Mr. Nelson began, checking in with Mrs. Duncan before continuing. "Now, we are discussing your parent's suggestion, to give you half-days only for the rest of the year. The problem is that we have core subjects during both the morning and afternoon."
"I don't want to go for half a day," Artie said, getting braver by the minute. All he had to do was think of that box of diapers, then he became resolute and unwavering. "I don't want to go for any part of the day. I don't—"
"Artie—" his mother had started to cut him off, but something stopped her. She paused, then gave the most subtle nod in his direction, allowing him to speak.
"I don't think you had a good plan ready for me," Artie continued, now unable to meet their eyes but still resolved in saying what he needed to tell them. "Jon Hubner's been here the whole time, but you never even made it so that he could do something in gym class every time he goes. I can't even get my chair on the playground. None of that is... is fair."
Artie was sure he'd said too much, telling adults that they didn't do enough, but he couldn't not say it. It was the truth. His father exchanged a short look with his mother, and they seemed to communicate without speaking. He then rose from his seat, and Artie braced himself.
"We're going to take Artie home now," his dad said, addressing the principal and teacher now. "We have some things to talk about as a family, but as of right now, I don't think Artie will be back this year. Maybe next year. That gives the school a little while to work on some things before he returns."
"If he leaves now, we'd have to start him again as a third grader next year," Mr. Nelson warned.
His father hesitated long enough to look at Artie, who shrugged. "Well, that'll be alright."
And so now, as a former third grade dropout, he was graduating a year later than originally planned. As Artie thought of the events leading up to that decision, the one thing he recalled best was the look on his father's face when he basically told the school to get it together or else. And, true to his word, Artie remembered that his father set up a meeting before school even started next year to make sure they were ready for him this time.
Speaking of his father, Artie heard him arriving home at that very moment. He listened to the familiar sounds of the car pulling in, the door opening and shutting, and his dad's brief exchange with his mother in the kitchen. Amy was now back at school, getting ready for the semester to start, so noticeably absent was her greeting that usually followed. As he always did, his father came and found him in his room.
"You're home early," Artie commented, turning on his side and propping up to look at his dad as he poked his head in the door, the rest of him following. "Have a seat."
"How was your day?" John Abrams asked his son, as he took a seat at the foot of his bed. "Your mom said she was awfully proud of something you did that told her about earlier. She said to come ask you about it. Mind sharing what that was?"
"Oh, that." Artie blushed. "It was nothing, really. I just started to feel like the kid I've been helping was feeling left out of the group. So I told his mom he needed to be included and she agreed with me. We're putting him back with the group tomorrow. Sam was worried at first, but I told him not to be."
"I'm glad you let them all know how important it is to include that kid," said his dad. "I always knew you'd be good at speaking up for others, once you finally found your voice. Don't stop doing that. Everything you've learned along the way is going to serve you well, in whatever you choose to do."
Artie couldn't help but feel overwhelmed when he thought about the future. Having already been dealt one huge surprise in his lifetime, he just didn't want anything else unpredictable in his life. Routine and familiarity had become his security blanket. And the question of what his mother would do with all those lonely hours at home alone remained – his father working a lot, his sister presumably living in Colorado, and he off in Brooklyn...
"Thanks, Dad," he said, hoisting himself up to a seated position, so as to receive a tight hug from his father. "Can I ask you something? Do you think you might retire? Or at least cut back your hours some. You know, like next year, when I'm out on my own?"
His father chuckled. "I'm not exactly close to retirement yet, Artie," he said. "I know I seem old to you, but I'm not that old. I've still got at least ten years of working left. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Artie said, shrugging.
His dad shrugged, mimicking him in his silly way. Artie often heard how much he looked like his dad, and sometimes when he watched his father's mannerisms, he even noticed it. "Well, hey, since I'm home early and all, how about an after-dinner swim? Or do you get way too much swimming these days?"
"No such thing," Artie said, with a grin. "Sure, I'll join you."
After that late swim with his dad, where he deliberately stayed on a raft to avoid yet another shower, Artie noticed he'd missed a call while his phone had been inside. A few days earlier, he'd exchanged numbers with Marley, after finding out that she lived nearby him and sometimes needed a ride to work. On the chance that he might give her a ride, he made sure they could contact one another. And also, it was a good excuse to get her number. Because she was very pretty and she was kind, two things that didn't always go together, when it came to girls.
And now this pretty, nice girl was calling him, most likely to secure a ride. "Hey, Artie, thanks for calling me back."
"Sure," he said, as he settled against his bed pillows and situated himself on the bed, using his hands to arrange his legs while cradling the phone against his cheek. "Need a ride tomorrow?"
"Actually, no, that's not why I called..." she trailed off, rather mysteriously. "I called because I was thinking about what you did today. For Gabe. That was really sweet of you to make sure he doesn't feel left out."
Artie recovered from the shock of having her call him, out of the blue, for something like this. Just to pay him a random compliment. He felt his face growing warm and was just glad she couldn't see him right then.
"Oh. Well. Thanks," he said, punctuating each word far too much. "I just... wanted to make sure he gets treated like everyone else." Artie paused. "But do help me keep an extra close watch on him tomorrow. Just in case. Sam's right, that is a rowdy group of kids."
"But Gabe would rather be part of the rowdy group than on the outside, looking in," she commented.
"Exactly." Artie paused. "So, um, you called just to tell me that?"
"Well, not only that..." Marley trailed off, as Artie's heart skipped a beat. "But also to tell you I have tomorrow afternoon off. I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to, like, hang out or something. Maybe show me what's fun to do in Lima? I don't really know anyone."
Artie couldn't decide if Marley was asking him out, then making excuses to cover her tracks, or if she just really didn't know anyone else in Lima and just didn't want to be bored. Either way...
"Sure!"
Quite possibly, Artie Abrams had a date.