New Direction

My parents couldn’t have gotten to know anyone well enough for someone to be knocking on our newest door at 3 in the morning. I stood up, groggily, from my bed, stumbling to the front door. The face I saw shocked me. One David Karofski, soaked to the bone from the pouring rain, faced me with a sad expression. I shouldn’t be surprised he was here.

I did say anytime.

“David?” I squinted, just to make sure. “David, what’s wrong?”

“Can I come in?” he asked, shaking slightly. I nodded, stepping aside. He stepped in, shaking his hair. I covered my face, laughing lightly.

“You’re soaked. Aren’t you freezing?” I whispered, leading him to the bathroom.

“Not really,” was his quiet reply as he laid his coat on the sink. I felt a bit awkward, considering all I had on was a robe.

David glanced in the mirror, trying not to make contact with himself. I felt a longing to help him.

“If-if you want, you can take a shower and I’ll put your clothes in the dryer,” It was a bit awkward after I said this, because he just stared at me, with an unreadable expression, I might add.

“Why are you helping me?” he questioned, voice slightly hoarse. I bit my lip, walking over to him.

“I know that you don’t mean to be hurtful, David. I’m not sure why you choose to be, but something must have happened. I used to be the same way,”

“You’re saying you think you know what I’m going through? You don’t,”

“Not at all. I just want to help you-”

“I don’t need help-”

“Then why are you here?” Again, it was silent, and he wouldn’t look at me.

“I guess it was a mistake,” he mumbled, grabbing his jacket and starting for the hall.

“Wait,” I grabbed his elbow. “I’m sorry,” he glanced at me from the corner of his eye, still wondering why I was being so nice.

I didn’t have the answer.

“Pile your clothes in the hall, it won’t take long,” He hesitated, but he walked past me, beginning to remove his shirt. I stepped out into the hall, walking to the kitchen.

He must be hungry, I thought. He is a football player.

I pulled out the left-overs from dinner and got them in the microwave before the ping of water rang down the hall. I paced back to the bathroom. His clothes were sloppily piled just outside the door, awaiting their drying process. I picked them up, holding them away from my body, trying to keep myself dry. I put them in the dryer, setting the timer for 30 minutes then went back to warming up the food. Once David turned off the water, the buzzer on the dryer rang and the microwave finished.

“David?” I called, quietly, through the door. He didn’t reply. “Your clothes are finished…”

“Just set them down,” he mumbled. I did as I was told before going back to the kitchen. I put the chicken and corn on plates, taking them to the dining room table. David stepped out minutes later, hair dripping.

“Are you hungry?” I questioned, pulling out a chair, offering for him to sit down.

“Umm…Yeah, I guess,” He sat down, staring at the plate.

“Why? He muttered. I had to lean forward to hear him.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? I hurt you, gave you a bruise, a bloody lip; I make fun of your friends. Why would you give a shit what happens to me?” I picked up my fork, shoveling some corn into my mouth.

“I already told you. I want to help you-”

“Help me with what?”

“Be you,” He said nothing as he picked up his own fork.

“That’s not possible,” He started eating, and we didn’t talk for the time being.

I needed the quiet.

The only sound I heard was the cliché singing of the crickets through the back screen. David was the exact football type: Tall, muscular, and a jerk. He was at the top of the high school food chain and ruled with a firm thumb. He was also feared; more than anyone I could remember anywhere else. I’m not sure who his victims were (probably anyone who accidentally looked his way), but Kurt-the sweetest, kindest, most amazing boy I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting-got the worst of it, I was sure. David has a problem, something that made the wheels in his head spin like a hamster on an exercise wheel.

I took the empty plates to the kitchen, placing them in the sink.

“Thanks,” David sighed, standing and walking to the front door. The sun was peeking out at us over the horizon. I followed on his heels, stopping him before he could leave.

“…What?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I want to help you,” He threw his hands in the air.

“How many times are you going to say that?”

“As many times as it takes for you to let me,” David stood there, eyeing ,e.

“Fine, whatever. Make me a better person or whatever,” I smiled, softly, up to him. He rolled his eyes, but he appreciated it.

“How about I help you study tomorrow? Library during lunch?” He shrugged.

“Sure, yeah,” I nodded, opening the door and ushering him out. He turned to me, tiny smile appearing on his lips.

“Thanks again, Joey,”

“Anytime,”

---

I was exhausted once David left. I got maybe an hour more of sleep before my dad woke me up to leave. I got myself ready, unsuccessfully trying to cover the bruise on my jaw line (and the circles under my eyes). Artie was wheeling down the ha;; when me and my father stepped back into McKinley high.

“Hey, Joey; Mr. Perkins,” My dad waved before wide-hugging me and walking to his classroom.

“I didn’t see you at lunch,” Artie exclaimed, rolling beside me as I walked to a drinking fountain.

“Yeah, sorry. I was… eating with my dad,” I bit my lip, wondering how many lies would slip through these lips today. Artie pushed his glasses up, grinning.

“Oh, okay. Will you eat with us today?” I chewed my bottom lip, debating what to say.

“I actually have someone to tutor today. Umm.. But, tomorrow, fer sure,”

“Awesome,” the ell rang, and my day went on. The only time David got within an inch of Kurt was when they passed each other in the hallway (which Kurt was more than mildly surprised at). By the time lunch rolled around, I was sitting in the library, pulling out my history book.

“Joey,” I turned my head, looking up.

“Hey,” I grinned, ushering David to sit down. He glanced around before he sat down.

The first step of his new personality would probably have to be caring less about what people think.

“History first?” I questioned, and he nodded, opening his book. I opened mine as well, telling him to take out the worksheet that was due tomorrow. When he got a quizzical look, I sighed, handing over my copy. I taught in every subject in this 30 minute lunch period, actually laughing and talking along the way (and get shushed by the librarian a fair amount of times). As the bell rang, we put our stuff away, standing in front of each other.

“You look tired,” David noted, putting his arms through the straps of his backpack.

“Being woken up at 3 AM can do that to a person,” I yawned, but continued smiling.

“Then I guess you’d rather sleep than help me study for my Spanish test?” I shrugged.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” His smiled got a bit wider.

“I’ll drive you home?”

“Sounds great,” And, with surprise from him (though, he squeezed back), I hugged him. I had to stand on my toes to put my arms around his neck. His eyes were a bit wide when I pulled away, but the smile beneath his burning cheeks remained.

“I’ll see you later, Dave,”

“You, too, Joe,” We walked our separate ways, going to our next classes. Right as I exited the library, I was greeted with a cold liquid hitting my face, stinging my eyes.

“Welcome to glee club, loser!” I opened my eyes (which would be categorized as a mistake), and saw (most) of the football team laughing down the hallway, high-fiving each other. The one in front had a slushie cap in his hands, red ice running down the sides.

“It’s happened to all of us,” I turned to the “leading” girl from glee club who “demanded” an audition.

“Rachel Berry,” she held out her hand, proudly, smiling widely. I wiped my hand on my jeans and shook her hand.

“Joanna Perkins. You can call me-”

“Joey, I know. Your voice is great, but you could still use a bit of work. We really need to beat Vocal Adrenaline this year, and we need the best. Maybe you could wait to join until next year when you’re a bit better,” Rachel was that type of girl. The goody two shoe, happy, conceded, can-be-the-only-star girl. The one that tries to get rid of her competition.

And I was her competition.

I shrugged, smiling.

“I like glee club, and my voice is perfect to help you guys out,” Rachel pursed her lips.

“Well, enjoy your slushie baths and name calling, Joanna,” she waved before stomping away. I giggled, then felt the sticky red liquid running down my face.

“Already?” I turned around, grinning up to Mr. Schue.

“The football is really against us, huh?” I laughed, locking the cherry slushie from my lips. Mr. Schue looked like he was fascinated by my words.

“Don’t you wanna go home? Get some…non-cherry flavored clothes?” I shrugged.

“I’m in Glee, now. I’ll wear my slush with pride!” We chuckled together until I felt someone step up beside me, wrapping an arm around me, squeezing me tightly.

“Will… What are you two talking about?” My dad questioned.

“Joey joined my glee club. She’s very talented, did you know that?”

“I did in fact,”

“Well, it’s a good thing you accepted this child-”

“Don’t start with me, Will,” I found myself in the middle of a gun fight, the bullets replaced with words.

“Dad…What’re you doing?” I questioned, puzzled at the random argument, bringing them both to silence.

“I think it’s time to tell her,” <r. Schue said, firmly, crossing his arms.

“Tell me what?” I asked, now anxious, looking from my father, to Mr. Schue, and back again. My dad sighed, kneeling down to me.

“Joanna… your mother and I have been hiding something from you…”

My parents and I have always been open and honest with each other. I’ve never lied to them, and I thought they have never lied to me-- I was wrong.

“Will is your brother,”