Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf

The entire night, I worked on my song to try to make it as hardcore as possible, since originally, it was slow, a hurt sounding song. I wanted it to be angry, biting…so harsh that it made Puck regret sleeping with Santana. Make him feel badly about cheating on me.

As I played with the sounds on my computer, tweaking the notes and the power behind them (since I couldn’t actually play an instrument), I couldn’t help but start to feel fury all over again. Puck…I trusted him. And what did he do? Betrayed me the first time I wasn’t there to watch over him every second of the day.

When I thought about him before, my heart used to pound just a little faster, and I used to bite my lip to fight back a smile. Now, pure hatred flowed through my veins, making me want to punch a hole in something. I eyed my wall for a second before sighing. It would be more satisfying to punch a hole through him.

Finally, I got my song the way I wanted it, more rock and roll with an angrier backbeat. After rehearsing it a few times to make sure that my voice could still handle the rougher sound, I smiled, putting my laptop on the floor.

I could only hope that my message got through to Puck.

* * *

Thursday could not have come soon enough, but when it finally did, I was ready. All Wednesday was the same story: Puck showing up where he knew I’d be in order to try to talk to me, to say that he didn’t do anything, and I walked away. What he didn’t know was every word that came out of his mouth made me more and more certain that he had done it. After all, if he really hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have quite such a pleading look on his face, as if begging me to forgive him without a real apology.

But I wasn’t like that. No way. I was stubborn and was willing to run this grudge until I died. Even then, I wouldn’t want him at my funeral. I had to make sure I put that in my will when I got older…

“Mr. Schue!” I announced as I walked into Glee Club on Thursday, the day finally over. The hours seemed to drag on and on. “Can I perform today?”

“You have a song ready?” he questioned, his expression conveying nothing but shock.

“I have some feelings to express,” I informed him, trying my hardest not to clench my teeth together as I spoke.

“Um…alright. You can fill Brad in when he gets here.”

“Thanks.” Grinning brightly for a second, I took a seat in the front row, where I knew Puck would never sit. Too much attention on him from Mr. Schue.

One by one, each of the members filed into the room. As the time ticked by, I got more and more anxious about my performance. I was basically going to be expressing my relationship problems to the entire group. Was it their right to know that?

On second thought…they all, more than likely, already knew.

Finally, Brittany staggered in last, smiling as she made her way to the seat next to Santana. Not that she even noticed that she was late, I was sure.

“Alright, Ellie wants to start us off for the year.”

From across the room, I could hear Puck’s breath catch, as if he knew exactly what was coming. Well, I thought I heard his breath catch, anyway. It could have been my imagination.

It probably was.

I filled Brad in on my arrangement and everything, along with the other little band member people, and turned to the group, an angry smirk pulling at the left side of my mouth. Even though I couldn’t see myself (obviously), I knew that I conveyed confidence and anger, as opposed to the nervous turmoil that was going on inside my stomach.

The music blared behind me, and it took a second for my brain to catch up. The words poised themselves on my tongue, ready to be spat out like cannons to attack my opponent.

If you search for tenderness
It isn't hard to find.
You can have the love you need to live.
But if you look for truthfulness
You might just as well be blind.
It always seems to be so hard to give.

Honesty is such a lonely word.
Everyone is so untrue.
Honesty is hardly ever heard.
And mostly what I need from you.

Toward the end, I was starting to lose my anger, my edge, and I just felt hurt, accented by the look on Puck’s face. My voice faded as the song ended, but my eyes still shot daggers at him and Santana.

There was a long pause after I finished, my fists clenching into fists. “Ellie,” Mr. Schue started as he stood up from his seat next to Finn, “that was really great. You did an awesome job re-vamping the arrangement to make it fit what you felt, and the emotion behind it was clearly very raw.”

“Thank you.” My voice was clipped, even though I didn’t mean to be rude to Mr. Schue. After all, he hadn’t done anything.

Instead of sitting back down in my seat to get the assignment for the week, I just stopped at my seat, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door, trying to fight the tears that were finally starting to sting behind my eyes.