Artie hadn't wheeled that much all summer long, so the first day back to school was a shock to his body. His biceps and forearms throbbed so badly that he could barely move from his chair to his bed without groaning in pain. He was gonna have to take some painkillers, suck it up, and shake it off the next day, because it would be time to do it all over again.

His father was home early and passed by his door the moment he let out a groan during his transfer. Without a word about it, he stepped into Artie's room and started helping him stretch out his legs as Artie leaned back on his pillows.

"I picked up your car from the shop today," he said. "So you can drive yourself tomorrow." He paused. "Think you're up to it? School, I mean."

"Yeah, I just overdid it," he mumbled, closing his eyes and chastising himself for being foolish enough to wheel himself all over the school after lunch. "I was hanging fliers for 'Grease' after lunch. Me and Marley. She's this new girl..."

"I figured there was a girl involved," was his dad's knowing reply. "Is that what all these secret parties were for, too? Impressing this girl?"

"Not just a girl, specially," Artie muttered, for there was no use pretending he hadn't had motives for these parties. "Just... people in general. New people. We seem to have an influx of new sophomores this year, and it's kind of important that we recruit new people for Glee club, or we won't have enough to even compete. I just thought I'd put myself out there a little more, y'know?"

"We really are fine with the parties, son," his father said, calmly, as he dropped Artie's right leg and moved onto the left. "Provided you ask our permission first every time. Since this was the first time – technically, first and second times – your mother and I were lenient. Do it again and that won't be the case."

"I know, which is why..." he was going to wait and ask them both together at dinner, but his dad had just given him the perfect opportunity. He drew in a deep breath, hoping his request would sound contrite and humble. "I'd, uh, like to ask your permission to have another one. This weekend. It's Labor Day weekend, you know. Maybe Sunday night?"

Artie's dad paused, staring down at his hopeful-looking son as he held his leg in the air for him. "Why are you doing this, Art?" he wanted to know. "Do you feel like you have to host a pool party or two every weekend to get these kids to like you?"

"Well, it couldn't hurt," Artie said, with a wry smile. "No, but seriously, that's not it, Dad. I get your concern, and like, I appreciate it, but it's not even about getting people to like me. I have a show to cast, and I need to make sure I have talented people on that stage."

"Oh, well in that case," his father replied. "I'll be home this weekend and I'm happy to grill hamburgers and hotdogs for you and your friends' Labor Day pool party..." he paused. "If your mother's onboard."

Given how mad she'd been, after the initial shock had worn off, they both knew it was possible she'd nix the plan straight away. It was just too bad he'd already sort of... promised... Marley, Ryder, Kitty, and Jake that he'd have another party soon. Oops.

Having finished helping him with all his stretches, his dad left to go help his wife in the kitchen while Artie considered the best possible way to present his case to her at dinner. (Normally, Artie would be in there helping, too, but right now, they all knew he couldn't stand another minute in his chair. Over the summer, he tended to get out of practice when it came to spending seven or eight hours straight in the same seated position.)

As he thought, a peculiar thing happened. His phone rang – actually rang, rather than just making the dinging sound to alert him to a text. Even stranger was the person calling him. His phone screen lit up with his secret mean nickname for Rachel Berry - Trout Mouth. He hadn't changed it since freshman year. (He really needed to. After Santana's charming serenade in Glee club, most people would think that referred to Sam.)

"Hello?" he said, answering rather uncertainly. "Did you just butt-dial me, Rachel? This is Artie, by the way."

Rachel giggled. "No, Artie, I called you on purpose," she said. "I already tried Tina, Blaine, Brittany, and Sam, and you're the only one who actually answered."

"So, I was your first choice then," Artie said, rolling his eyes as he positioned his feet on a pillow and stuck another behind his back, to sit up a bit more. "Well, okay, to what do I owe the honor?"

"I just wanted to make sure you guys aren't having any trouble finding more members for New Directions," she said. "I mean, we won Nationals, so I don't know why you would, but seeing as I'm not there to oversee it myself..."

Artie couldn't even believe she cared about this, being that she was miles away and presumably already a big success at NYADA. He figured she'd have bigger and better things to think about in New York.

"Uh, one person auditioned today..."

"One?" There was a definite note of panic in Rachel's voice as she screeched into the phone, causing him to wince and pull the phone away from his ear.

"Well, yeah, but she's really good," he hurried to explain. "Her name's Marley. I am the one who recruited her and encouraged her to join, actually. She sang 'Chasing Pavements' and blew the roof off the choir room. So, with the five seniors, plus Joe and Sugar and now Marley, that makes eight. Just four more people and we have enough to compete..."

"Twelve singers won't be enough to win Nationals!" Rachel exploded, as Artie opted to now put her on speakerphone, saving his eardrum from potential harm.

"We'll find enough people to make a strong showing," Artie promised, trying to sound as confident as he possibly could. "I'm doing 'Grease' for the fall musical this year, and I'm going to strongly encourage each person who goes out for my show to do New Directions, too." He paused. "So... we've got this, Rachel. I've got this. You don't need to worry."

There was a pause on the other end. "I don't doubt you can handle it, Artie..."

"Yeah, you do," Artie said, cutting her off. He was getting irritated with the fact that she was still trying to control Glee club from miles and miles away.

"No, I don't," she countered, sounding angry. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," he briefly debated on whether to divulge what was on his mind or not, but he settled on letting her have it. "Because... way back when me and Kurt were the only guys in the club, you acted like you didn't have anyone who could be a leading man. You even asked Mr. Schue if he realized how ridiculous it was to give me the lead in the first song we ever performed."

"The problem was the song, not you," Rachel protested. "And you know that happened four years ago, right? And I've... I've changed since then. At least I hope I have."

"I thought you had," Artie countered. "But now you're calling me because you don't think any of us can run the club without you. And it really stings that I'm the last person you called – that tells me all I need to know."

Another long pause followed. And then – "Artie, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sure you're doing everything you can. It's... it's a weird feeling. Now that I've finally gotten where I wanted to be, I find myself... looking back... wishing I was there, still in that choir room with all of you, in-instead of here..." she laughed, bitterly. "Isn't that strange?"

"Considering how much you couldn't stop talking about NYADA last year, yeah, that's odd," he said, sounding more blunt than he meant to. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She exhaled loudly, and he braced himself for a long-winded response. "What's wrong is mostly this freshman ballet intensive I have to take," she said. "You'd think it was the School of American Ballet or something. Rumor has it Cassandra July wanted to teach there but wound up at NYADA instead. And she takes her resentment out on her freshmen. More specially, on me. On the first day, she called me Little Miss David Schwimmer. Today, she wouldn't let me partner with anyone and told me to practice my jazz hands in the back. And then, she said I looked tentative and awkward and that I move my body like I'm ashamed of it. I'm sorry, what? I've been dancing since I could walk!"

"Uh-huh, oh, wow, that's terrible..."

Artie was trying to listen, he really was, but he was also wondering how long she would keep going on about this. He'd received a text from Quinn that just said: hey! call me when you're free! And he was much more interested in talking to Quinn than hearing about Rachel's problems.

"Not only that but my roommate constantly has her boyfriend over to have sex, the dorms are old and we have these weird co-ed bathrooms that make showers complicated, so now I shower at 3:00 AM, and I just miss my dads and Finn... and everyone really... and especially Finn."

Now she was crying and he was feeling sorry for her. He also didn't know what to say. He was the only person who had actually answered the phone, lucky him, and she really needed to be telling all of this to Finn. He couldn't help wondering if he'd feel this way, once he was in Brooklyn... provided he got in. Would he miss everyone back home too much? Would he hate the hassle of trying to navigate the subway? Would his dream turn out to be a disappointment just like Rachel's?

"Well... maybe you just need to come home," he said. "Not-not for good. I mean, for a visit. You haven't been back since the start of summer. And this weekend's Labor Day weekend. I think Quinn might even be visiting, too. And..." (He knew he was going to regret this.) "And I'm having a pool party. Well, at least I think I am. Still ironing out the details, but I'd love to have you. You could meet Marley."

She sniffled. "Is she the new Rachel?"

"No one could ever be the new Rachel, Rachel," he told her. "We all talked about it today and decided to just call a truce. I'm trying to be the new Finn, though... just in the sense that I want to be a true leader like him."

"Sounds like you're well on your way, Artie," she told him. "You're right. I should visit. If I do, you'll be the first to know. Well, second, after Finn of course..."

"Of course," he said. "Nice talking to you, Rachel." And he meant it, he really did.

The choir room hadn't been the same without Rachel. Without Mercedes, Santana, Puck, Finn, Kurt, and Mike. It had felt strangely empty, having lost so many large personalities. Of course, Tina had been working on growing her own personality lately, to make up for it.

"This is Dottie, she'd said earlier that day at Glee, pointing out the small Asian girl sitting beside her, who wore big glasses and carried a small clipboard. Dottie's chair had taken Artie's usually space in the front, forcing him to find room for himself at the opposite end. Nevertheless, he'd smiled and greeted the new girl.

"Are you auditioning for Glee club?" he'd asked hopefully.

Dottie looked terrified. "Oh, no," she'd said. "I'm tone deaf. N-no, I'm just here as Ms. Cohen-Chang's personal assistant."

Artie didn't dwell on Tina and her new "assistant" for long, because he remembered Quinn's text. He was eager to talk to her and to find out how she had been doing in the short time since she'd been gone.

"How is it?" he asked Quinn, when she picked up and greeted him.

"Well, so far, so good," she said. "I like my roommate, Valerie. You know, the girl I was talking to this summer online? Well, Yale matched us pretty well, I think. She's a lot like me, which you would think might be a problem, but it's really not. Makes her easy to live with because we like all of the same things and generally agree on stuff. And she's from Connecticut, like less than an hour from here, so we'll probably visit her huge house on lots of weekends together. This weekend, she's invited me to a Labor Day picnic thing..."

"Oh, so you won't be coming home?"

Quinn giggled. "Well... no, Artie, I just left," she explained. "I probably won't be coming home until your opening night of 'Grease.' Which will... probably be around the same time as last year, right?"

Her voice shook at that moment, and they both knew why. Artie actually found himself at a loss for words. He'd nodded, then remembered he was talking on the phone. "Yeah," he said. "End of October, because we'll have to start focusing on Sectionals after that."

"Wow," she said. "You know, this is the first time that it's really hit me, that's it's almost been a whole year since my accident."

"Yeah," he breathed. "How-how are you feeling? Physically, I mean." Emotionally, he knew it was rough. He didn't even have to ask.

"Mostly good," she said. "My lower back still lets me know when it's going to rain. Sometimes when I'm walking across this huge campus, I have to let myself slow down and take breaks, if I need to. People probably just think I'm checking out the trees. I did find a doctor up here. So, I've got an appointment next month, just to get checked up and meet him and all that..."

She trailed off and they both fell silent for awhile, Artie feeling like that was simultaneously so long ago and only yesterday. He wasn't going to be able to hold opening night without thinking of it. And without remembering the person they'd lost in that accident. Quinn seemed to sense that he was thinking about her, and filled the silence when he didn't.

"Artie, I'm so sorry about Mack," she said. "She was special to you, I know. This would be her senior year, too, and..."

"I think I'll dedicate the show to her," he said, softly. "Of course, she would have thought it was stupid. But... I'm gonna do it anyway. I want people to remember her. They didn't put anything about her in the yearbook last year, you know. I doubt they'll put anything in this year's either. Someone needs to remember her."

"I agree," she said, solemnly.

"So, do you want to hear about my first day?" Artie changed the subject, because his chest was getting tight, like he might break down soon if he had to talk about Mack any longer.

"You know I do!" Quinn said, enthusiastically. And then, because she was just that awesome, she quoted a 'Grease' line. "Oh, I just love the first day of school, don't you?"

And Artie completed that, by saying, deadpan, "It's the biggest thrill of my life."

"That's the whole reason I wanted you to call me," Quinn went on, giggling. "To hear how senior year's going so far. How's Glee club and everything? And that girl, Marley, how's that going?"

"Quinn, I'm gonna stop you right there because I don't want you getting your hopes up," Artie said. "I know you've decided this is the year I'm going to meet someone, but I don't think so. At lunch today, she seemed to be trying to decide whether to flirt with Ryder Lynn, the football star, or bad-boy Jake-no-last-name."

"Artie, don't give up so easily," Quinn argued, her disappointment evident in her tone.

"I'm not," Artie said, and the next thing was something he was still working on convincing himself of. "Look, she's nice. To everyone, as I told you before. She helped me hang a bunch of fliers for 'Grease' all over campus after lunch. Which is the reason my arms are still going to be sore tomorrow. But anyway, she's just... I dunno, nice. But I don't think she's my type."

"So 'nice' isn't your type?"

"No, maybe not," he concluded, with a smirk. "To tell you the truth, Mack was my type. And she wasn't all that nice. Not on the surface, anyway."

"Well, maybe you'll find someone more your type at your next pool party," she said. "Speaking of which, you haven't told me about your punishment."

Artie grinned and relayed a spirited recap of the morning and his mother blaring Madonna songs and singing along with the window rolled down while his dad drove him to school in their van and deposited him onto the street right next to a bunch of Cheerios, including that girl, Kitty.

"I'm getting secondhand embarrassment just hearing your story," Quinn said. "I take it you won't be having any more pool parties for awhile?"

"Actually," Artie corrected her. "My dad did just say I could have one this weekend, if Mom's okay with it. So, fingers crossed, with any luck, she'll say yes and I can have another party to promote Glee and 'Grease.'"

"Three parties, who even are you?" she said, with a laugh. "Well, I'm really sorry I'm not gonna be there. Good luck!"

"What's up, blogosphere? Jacob Ben Israel here, back on the street with an exclusive look at McKinley's newest celebrities, the New Directions!"

It was the second day of school, and JBI was at it again. Mohamed Omar, AV Club president, had sacrificed all of his professional integrity and agreed to film this train wreck. But, this year Artie didn't mind so much...

"Artie Abrams, lunch room sources tell me you've been seen sitting with Cheerios!" Jacob Ben Israel exclaimed, as he approached Artie by his locker and stooped to thrust the microphone at him.

"Well, I'm usually seen sitting," Artie said, smiling at his little joke and adjusting his glasses. "But, uh, yes, I guess you could say the glee club is climbing the social staircase. Except for me, I'm taking the elevator..."

The puns, they kept on rolling. Much like Artie himself.

"Our labor was not in vain," he went on. "And speaking of labor, I'm having a Labor Day pool party at my place Sunday night. Everyone's invited."

His mother had indeed given him her blessing at dinner. Right after ending his call to Quinn, he'd gone and asked her. She had not, however, told him he could invite the whole school. Hopefully only cool people would see this. He definitely didn't want the AV Club to come. It had just sort of slipped out, but now it was on camera and he'd invited the whole school. All in the name of popularity. He was a dead man.