And Here's What You Missed on...GLEE

Puck let out a long, loud sigh as he flopped down next to me in Glee the next day. “How’s it going, Red?”

“Since when do you call me ‘Red’?” I smirked, subconsciously wrapping my hair around my finger. Once I realized what I was doing, I put my hand back on my lap and blushed slightly.

“Since today,” he replied with a smile. “Yo, Mr. Schue, who’s performing today?”

“We decided on Artie, didn’t we?” Mr. Schue replied, running a hand through his tightly curled hair.

“Yeah,” Artie spoke up. Artie had sweeping brown hair and rectangular black frames covering blue eyes. He was confined in a wheelchair from an accident when he was a kid, and because of it, lots of people didn’t like him. People were shallow.

While he sang Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, he did a whole bunch of cool little maneuvers in his wheelchair that I didn’t know were possible. I absolutely adored Artie’s deep voice, and it put a totally different spin on a classic song.

“Woo!” I exclaimed when he finished. “That was awesome!”

“Thanks,” he said shyly, smiling hugely, before rolling himself back to next to Tina, a pretty Asian girl.

Her black hair was long and silky with colored streaks, and she was pretty short. She had a stutter, but it seemed kind of inconsistent to me. Maybe I was just being overly critical…

“Hello?” Puck questioned, waving a hand in front of my face. “Anyone home?”

“What? Sorry. Spacing, I guess,” I laughed, getting to my feet and throwing my bag over my shoulder. Stumbling slightly from the weight of it, I let out another laugh. “I’m going to drown in schoolwork.”

“If you don’t get crushed first,” he pointed out.

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting on the cold bench with my notebook sitting in my lap, my history book next to me. “Honestly,” I whispered to myself, “I don’t care in the slightest about what happened in the Battle of Tippecanoe.”

“Ellie!” Kurt’s voice called.

My eyebrows drew together as I looked up to face him. He was hurrying onto the bleachers before plopping down next to me, smoothing his bangs as he often did.

“How’s it going?” he questioned with a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Well, thanks. Just doing…this…” I shot a dirty glance at my work. “What about you?”

“I was just thinking about what song to do for my performance. I haven’t decided yet.” He fixed his hair again before leaning closer. “Is there anything going on between you and Puck?”

“No,” I laughed. “Why does everyone think that?”

“Because you guys are always together, and you two ooze chemistry.” He raised his eyebrows at me, and I couldn’t help but let a snort.

“He’s too cocky and player-ish for me.”

“You never know…” Kurt trailed off. “He could always change.”

“People don’t change,” I recited, picking up my notebook again. So back to that ol’ Tippecanoe…

“Anyway, that wasn’t why I came over,” he interrupted again. I tilted my head so I could see him. “I just wanted to say that Saturday, we’re going to the mall. Where in the world did you get that sweater?”

I sighed loudly. “My dog pooped it out,” I retorted.

Kurt stared at me for a second, debating whether or not I was serious. It was only when the corner of my mouth twitched did he realize that it was a joke. “Good one,” he granted, not sounding like he meant it at all.

Letting out a small chuckle, I doodled a star in the margin of my notebook. “Anyway, shopping sounds good.” I knew that if I asked Mom for money to go to the mall, she’d gladly give it to me. Anything to get me out of the house and stop wisecracking at her.

“Great. So my dad and I will pick you up at eleven on Saturday. Be up and ready.” He stood up and gave me a little wave before bounding down the steps. A couple of football players whistled at him, but they didn’t say anything.

After staring them down angrily for a second, I finally turned back to my work, which seriously needed finishing.

Finally, I reached one of those opinion questions… Ugh! They drove me absolutely crazy. I didn’t have one opinion or another about what happened in history. Things happened the way they did, and it didn’t matter what I wrote on the paper because things were going to stay that way. Why did it need me help?

“I. Don’t. Care,” I hissed through clenched teeth at my book, stabbing it with my pen.

“Someone has some anger management issues,” Finn commented with a smile. My face flushed a little when I saw him standing there.

“Wait, is practice over?!” I gasped, looking at the field. Surely enough, it was cleared. How the hell had it taken me an hour and a half to do these ten questions? Maybe it was all the complaining that took up the time.

“And has been for, like, ten minutes,” he added. He sat down next to me and peered over my shoulder. “History, huh?”

“Ugh,” I commented.

“Not a big fan?”

“There is so much to learn!” I threw my hands up in the air. “And frankly, I don’t even care. It happened a long time ago. Why does it matter today?”

“Because it shaped our country…?” Finn trailed off. I knew he was right, but still. I was, too, in my mind, anyway.

“Excuses,” I scoffed, waving the idea away.

“Red? Ready to go?” He shot a look at Finn, and I looked between them. Whoops.

“Sure,” I smiled. I hadn't exactly decided whether I liked the new nickname or not. Time would have to tell, I guessed. “I’ll catch you later, Finn. Give my best to Rachel.”

“Good one,” he laughed. He knew just as well as I did that she hated me. Even more, since he probably had to hear her venting all the time.

After waving to him once more, I followed Puck to his car. “You tight with Finn?” Puck asked after a minute of silence.

“Not really. We just talk sometimes. He’s cool.”

“He’s with Rachel,” he reminded.

I gave him a brain-dead look. “Shockingly enough, I knew that! And I’m not sure that I like what you’re inferring.”

“I’m not referring to anything,” he shrugged, playing it cool.

“I said inferring,” I corrected. “And I think you are.”

“Well, I’m not.”

We were quiet again before I finally chose to broke it. Awkwardness was…well, awkward.

“You were pretty good at practice today.”

“You were watching?” He shot a fast, surprised look at me before turning back to the road.

“Sure,” I replied. Liar, my brain whispered. I shut it up quickly. “All the passing and, um, running.”

“Looked like you had your nose in your book the whole time.”

I scrunched up my nose for a second, remembering how I still had to finish that work, before smiling at him in realization at what he meant. “You were watching me?”

“No,” he covered quickly. I smirked at him before looking back at the road, the black pavement seeming to curve as it disappeared under the windshield.

“Thanks for the ride,” I smiled before climbing out of the car. “Oh, when are you performing for Glee, by the way? I haven’t heard your voice yet.”

“You will soon enough,” he assured me mysteriously.

After rolling my eyes, I closed the door and disappeared through my front door. For once, there was no yelling, which meant that my parents had a blow-up fight earlier and both had vacated the premises.

Whatever. Less yelling for me to endure.