Easier Said Than Done

I shut my locker at school the next day as I stifled a yawn. Sam had been over until nine the night before, which meant that I didn’t shower until late, and when I took showers that late, I had issues falling asleep. So I got about four and a half hours of actual sleep time. Not exactly good for a school day, and certainly not enough for me to function on.

“Who’s ready for a new Glee assignment today?” Sam questioned, way too perky for eight o’clock on a Monday morning.

“I’m going to punch you in the face,” was my only remark. “Shouldn’t you be with Quinn?”

“She texted me and said that she was going to be late because she had a doctor’s appointment. Or was it dentist…?” He stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to figure out the puzzle. “I dunno. It was one of those.”

“You’re a good boyfriend,” I said sarcastically with an eye roll. “Really. Grade-A.”

He gave me cut-eye for a second before walking into someone. “Oh, sorry,” he replied, trying not to laugh.

“Watch where you’re going, klutz.” We walked into our first class, which was pretty much empty.

“Like you should be talking.”

I pretended to be offended before looking at the board. “Shit,” I mumbled, “did we have homework over the weekend?”

“Uh, yeah. We had to do that worksheet.”

“Was it easy?” My heart was starting to race. I never forgot my homework. Well, almost never. There was always those few occasions where I really did forget, but I didn’t want now to be one of them.

“No. It took me, like, an hour. And I’m pretty sure I got all the answers wrong.”

“Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.” I dug through my bag and found the paper Sam was talking about.

He was right. There was no way I could get this paper done in the few minutes before class. There were about a million questions, each one having different parts to them. So I did one of the worst things that I’d ever done in my short and uneventful life: leaned forward, batted my eyelashes a couple of times to add the big cheese factor, and asked, “Sam, can I take your answers?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you saying that you didn’t do your work, and so you want to steal mine?”

“Yes! Now hand it over before she comes.” I pouted and stuck out my hand.

Heaving a giant sigh, Sam reached into his bag and came up with the work. “Just hurry. I don’t want to get caught.”

“No problem,” I muttered so quickly that I didn’t know if that was what I actually said. My hand was moving like a blur, trying to copy over as many answers as I could before our teacher came in the room. ‘Cause if we got caught, we’d both be going to Figgins and getting suspended, if not expelled.

When the door closed, I threw the paper at Sam, crumpling it a bit in the process. He gave me a look like, ‘Really? Unnecessary.’ Even though it totally was necessary because I just saved both of our lives. Kind of.

I only had a couple problems left on the paper, so I just kind of filled them in with random answers and hoped that the teacher didn’t look over my paper too closely.

Thankfully, she only glanced to make sure that all the spaces were filled before advancing to the next person.

Looking to the sky and letting out a slow sigh, I grinned widely at Sam and gave him a thumbs-up.

* * *

When I walked into Glee Club, almost everyone was there, including Mr. Schue. He was already writing ‘Overcoming Obstacles’ on the board before underlining it a couple of times for emphasis.

“Uh, am I late?” I questioned, confused. According to the clock, I was actually five minutes early, as usual.

“No, don’t worry, Ellie.” Mr. Schue sounded very upbeat, even for him, like he had a couple of double-shot espressos. “Just take a seat.”

Smiling a little (though trying to hide it), I scampered over to the seats and took one next to Kurt.

“Overcoming obstacles,” Mr. Schue read. “What are some of the obstacles that you guys have to overcome?”

“Peer pressure?” Tina suggested.

“People not appreciating the star that I really am,” Rachel spoke up. Everyone let out a collective sigh and rolled their eyes.

“Bullying,” Artie offered.

“Right!” Mr. Schue interrupted before someone could say anything else. “Some of the most empowering songs are about an artist’s trials of trying, failing, and picking themselves back up again.”

“Like Britney Spears’ career,” Puck chuckled. I swallowed at the sound of his laugh, but regained my composure like a pro.

“Hey!” Brittany interjected, though her voice didn’t show any more emotion than the usual flat tone that it usually was. “I don’t like being made fun of.”

Mr. Schue just continued like the whole exchange hadn’t happened. “Your objective this week is to find a song that is about overcoming an obstacle.”

“Ooo. So double-o-seven, Mr. Schue,” Mercedes joked.

“Alright, guys, that’s it for today! Rachel, Artie, and Tina, you guys are tomorrow. Be prepared.”

Everyone stood up, grabbing their bags and starting toward the door. Maybe I was immature (okay, so I was immature), but I took my sweet old time getting my bag so I could watch Zizes and Puck.

What shocked me is that she almost looked like she was walking away from him, and he was pursuing her. There was no way that was the case, though, right? How could he be over the breakup already? It had been less than a friggin’ month!

Biting my lip, I tried to calm myself down. Okay, so what was the big deal? I already had an inkling that something was going on there, and now it was just confirmed. Why was that such a big deal? I should be downright giddy that Puck was moving on, being happy.

“Ellie?” Mr. Schue broke through my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized that I was the last one in the room by a long shot. I was probably being totally clichéd and staring at the door where they’d just walked through, being all…couple-y. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assured him, ignoring that my voice was shaking ever-so-slightly. “Thank you.” It was a good thing that he was nice enough to pretend not to hear it, too. “See you tomorrow!”

I started walking down the hallway, only to find Sam leaning up against the wall about ten feet away from the choir room. “Do you want a ride home?” he offered. It was that awkward week between football and basketball seasons, so no one really had any practices. If Sam even played basketball, that was. Maybe I should find that out…

“Um,” I cleared my throat and blinked a couple of times, “I’m okay, thanks. It’s a nice day.”

“It’s, like, thirty degrees outside,” he replied, but I was already walking away.

Gritting my teeth as I walked out of the building, I cursed myself for getting so worked up over the fact that Puck may or may not already be moving on. With Zizes. Who had a bad attitude and was overall unpleasant to be around.

But what irritated and upset me the most was that I was getting irritated and upset about it at all. Who had broken up with whom, after all?

Shaking my head, I wiped my eyes and faced forward, brushing my hair back. I was fine. Really.

“Red?” I turned to find a very familiar car. “Need a lift?”