Cheerio

I swallowed back the nervousness that was starting to crawl up my throat before answering in a voice barely above a whisper, “Sure, I guess.”

He fixed his backpack strap on his shoulder and took a breath, debating which words to use. And, after a good few minutes, he said, “You look like shit.”

“What is it with you and Kurt?” I snapped. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to say stuff like that to a girl?” I glanced at the clock to keep from making eye contact with him.

“Sorry. It’s just…” Suddenly, he dropped his cautious wording and awkward behavior, just jumping into what he had to say. “Did something happen? ‘Cause you look, like, worse. Are you…did you…?” Clearly, he had no idea what he was trying to say.

I opened my mouth, not sure how to answer. Really, I should tell him. He hadn’t told anyone about my eating disorder, after all, which was a major plus for his character in my mind. But still, I wasn’t so eager about letting people into my life, letting them know personal details about myself that I didn’t even like to admit to myself.

So I decided to take a step back into Cheerio-land, where I had been trying so hard to escape. “I don’t think it’s any of your business,” I finally responded, narrowing my eyes as my tone turned to snippy.

He stared at me. “It doesn’t matter if it’s my business. Look, we’re in Glee Club together, right? We’re like a team. And the motto of teams is not to leave a man behind. I don’t want to leave you behind.”

Immediately, I got confused. He was actually being nice, even while I was getting irritated at him. And it sounded like he actually cared. Which was weird and out of character and made my brain hurt as I analyzed him. “You’re not leaving me behind. I can take care of myself. Seriously, Puck.”

“You keep saying that, but I think you’re in denial. And you might think that you’re hiding it, but it’s pretty obvious to me that you’re heading down a dark path. You’re getting worse. And you need help.” He stopped for a second and finally made eye contact with me. “Let me help you.”

A sob threatened to escape as my eyes watered. A couple of blinks dispersed them, and I swallowed to try to regain my composure. “Puck, I don’t know why you’re suddenly so invested in my health. We barely talk.”

“Because I care about you,” he spat out.

We let the words hang between us as a knot formed in my stomach. When could this have happened? It must have been when I admitted my whole life story to him. He felt the vulnerability that I allowed myself to show, and he took it as a damsel-in-distress call. And of course, the ancient, Neanderthal aspect of his soul felt the need to protect me.

Well, I didn’t need protecting, and I certainly didn’t need a boyfriend. I could barely take care of myself, never mind start thinking about the needs of someone else.

Not that I just admitted that to myself.

I cleared my throat, trying to stifle any feelings or soft words that might stumble their way out of my mouth. “It doesn’t matter,” I told him, connecting our gazes again so he would believe me. “No matter how much you care about me, you’re not going to be able to change me. So just leave me alone.”

Then, looking at the clock again, I found an excuse. “Now my brother’s outside. I have to go. See you tomorrow.”

As I walked down the hallway, the whole conversation replayed through my head, and I had to choke back my emotion so my face gave nothing away when I saw Garrett in the car. It felt so strange, to have someone that I barely associated with be so attuned to my well-being. He paid such close attention that any shift in my personality at all triggered something inside of him, and he had to make sure that I was okay.

It was weird to have someone think of me as so important.

* * *

The next day at Glee Club, kids were screaming suggestions back and forth while simultaneously managing to write off other’s suggestions as stupid or impossible. Santana was the one person in the room, really, that was not offering up any possibilities, just sitting back in her chair, her arms crossed in front of her chest, saying every so often with a sigh, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” or, “We are so screwed.”

“THAT’S IT!” I stood up and yelled.

Everyone stopped and spun around in their chairs, staring at me with wide eyes. I guess they didn’t think I’d be the one to come up with anything.

“Why don’t we do…” I paused for dramatic effect. “One Direction?”

There was a short silence as my offer settled in.

“Actually,” Quinn finally spoke up, “I kind of like that idea.”

“Me, too,” Brittany agreed. “Lord Tubbington has been listening to them so much, I kind of started to like them.”

I decided to ignore Brittany as I hurried to the front of the group, erasing Mr. Schue’s white board and picking up the marker. “Is there anyone who objects?”

“Uh, kind of,” Finn voiced. “They’re kind of…girl’s music…aren’t they? Like, their fan base is made up of teenage girls who scream and cry whenever they see the band members?”

“So?” I retorted. “Are you jealous because they’ve gotten more girls than you ever will in your life?”

“Ohhh!” Puck cooed, and I shot him a thankful look before remembering that we were awkward.

“Okay,” I started, turning toward the board. “Any suggestions on songs?”

“Well, we should definitely do What Makes You Beautiful,” Rachel insisted, getting to her feet. Again. “It is the song they’re most well-known for, after all.”

“True,” I agreed, though reluctantly, since I was kind of taking Rachel’s side, which was painful. I turned around to face the board and wrote the name of the song in my neat half-cursive handwriting. “Any other suggestions?”

“I kind of like Tell Me a Lie,” Kurt offered, finally getting the confidence to take my side. “It’s upbeat. Pretty good for Sectionals.”

I nodded as I wrote it down under the first song title. “Love that one,” I commented. “And how about, for the ballad, we do Moments?”

“Isn’t that, like, about suicide or something, though?” Tina questioned. “I think I read that online.”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’m not exactly a song interpreter. But is it against rules at Sectionals to sing songs that actually matter and have meaning?”

No one spoke up, and a grin spread across my face. “That’s what I thought. So are we all good?”

I wrote the song on the board and underlined the selections a couple of times. “Guys, we finally have our set list.”

“Thank God,” Mr. Schue sighed under his breath. He got to his feet from the seat next to Puck where he settled after I took over leading the group. “Thanks for leading us in the right direction, Evie.”

“No pun intended,” someone snickered.

I rolled my eyes and settled back into my chair. Then, I leaned over to Kurt and said, “Now this is an assignment I think I’m going to like.”

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Schue started, glancing back at the board before facing us again. “I’ll distribute any solos tonight and get to you guys tomorrow. Make sure you don’t injure your voices or your bodies from now until Sectionals day. Clear?”

We all nodded, and he let out a breath. “Okay, you guys are dismissed.”

Everyone collected their stuff and exited the room. Once we were in the hallway, Kurt snickered and whispered, “Mr. Schue’s so pissed.”

“Why?”

He looked at me with wide eyes. “Can’t you tell? He did not like the decision at all.”

I smiled widely and adjusted the bag strap on my shoulder. “Sucks to be him. Maybe he just needs to find his inner teenage girl.”

Kurt laughed and hooked his arm through mine. “We still going to my house?”

“Oh, yes. Please, lead the way.”

And for an instant, just a second, I felt normal.