Glee: The Beginning (7 page)

and started critiquing eve ryone as if she

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were some kind of expert. In the hour that they practiced, she’d managed to insult eve ryone ’s pitch, posture, moves, and outfits. Who the hell did she think she was?

Me rcedes glanced at the clock on her compute r. It was Tuesday night, and every Tuesday night she and Kurt would text back and forth during
American Idol
, commenting

on who sucked and who rocked. It was a tradition dating back to eighth grade, when the music teacher had the two of them sing ‘I’ll Be There for You’ at their graduation ceremon y. She loved Kurt for being catty and critical and making her laugh so hard she almost peed her pants. And she felt that Kurt understood her in a way

no one else did. Mercedes dreamed about someone fancy signing her to some ginormous record deal, big enough to get her out of Lima, out of Ohio, and out of her boring life. She had star potential, and he knew

it.

But Kurt was the one who had brought Rachel to Glee in the first place – as if he didn ’t have enough faith in Mercedes ’s ability to bring them togethe r. It was downright insulting. The nerve of him , bringin g in a strange r withou t even thinking to ask anyone else about it.

There was a knock on her doo r. ‘Baby girl,’ her mom called,

‘you have a visito r.’

Mercedes narrowed her eyes. She didn ’t get visitors. She didn ’t really have many friends, and none of them were the type to drop by unannounced.

Tina lived on the other side

of town, and her mom worked nights, so there was no way
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she could have gotten to the Joneses’ house, and Artie was usually studying on a school night. That left one. She flung open the doo r.

It was Kurt. Standing in her house, in his pale blue button-down, a snug-fit cashmere V-neck, and navy cashmere socks with yellow toes. Her mother made eve ryone leave their shoes at the door since having new Brazilian cher ry floors installed last summe r. Kurt was always so fastidious that the sight of him in stocking feet made Me rcedes want to giggle. Then she remembered Rachel. ‘Nice socks,’ she said point-edly, planting her hand firmly on her hip and giving him a glare. She wished she was wearing something

less schlumpy

tha n her fuchsi a velou r tracksuit . ‘But I don ’t remember inviting you over. Not that
that
would stop you.’

Kurt brushe d his hair off his forehead . ‘Cute pictur e of you in the Mickey Mouse ears, by the way.’ He pointe d to the wall of photograph s in the hallwa y. ‘Is tha t Cinderell a with you?’

‘Sleeping Beauty.’ Mercedes cleared her throat. ‘Seriousl y, though, if you haven ’t come to apologize, you can back yourself right out that front doo r.’

Kurt sighed and fidgeted with the metal clips on his jacket. Me rcedes thought it looked like part of a ma rching-band uniform, yet he insisted it was vintage. ‘May I come in?

Othe rwise I might get roped into performing hip-hop moves with those ladies downstairs.’

‘Fine. Come in.’ Me rcedes stepped back to let him into her room.

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‘Nice color palette. ’ Kurt gazed aroun d the room in approval. He’d been at Mercedes ’s house for pizza a couple of times after mall trips to try out expensiv e clothe s at Bloomingdale ’s, but he’d never been in her room before.

‘Very sophisticated yet fun. And little touches of the diva extraor-dinaire.’ He ran his fingers over a framed photograph of Madonna and gave it a slight bow.

‘The apology?’ Mercedes refused to back down. Kurt needed to know how insulting it was to have Rachel come in and stomp all over eve ryone like that. All over
her
.

‘Look, I’m sorry if inviting Rachel to Glee Club hurt your feelings, but I’m tired of us getting laughed at all the time.’

He fingered the brown fringe on Mercedes ’s bedside lamp.

‘We’re good performers, especially you. You’re
amazing
. But we haven ’t really had the chance to come togethe r. And I feel like Rachel can do that.’

Mercedes ’s cheeks flushed. Okay, it was sweet of him to call her amazing, even though it was just the truth. ‘You really think Miss Pink Kneesocks is going to make that much of a difference?’ She might not agree with him, but she always respected Kurt’s opinion. He had totally called the Adam Lambert thing.

‘I swear I do.’ Kurt glanced at his watch. He sat down on the edge of Mercedes ’s bed, sinking slightly into the soft mattress.

‘I guess you can consider your apology accepted, then.’

‘What does the poster signify?’ Kurt was staring at the giant
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poster of a roaring tiger that stretched over Mercedes ’s white iMac.

Mercedes smiled sweetl y. ‘It reminds me that life is a jungle, and if you don ’t defend yourself, someone bigger than you is just going to take you down.’

‘So you’re an optimist,’ Kurt said, nodding thoughtfull y. ‘I wouldn ’t have guessed.’

Mercedes laughed. She loved Kurt – he was her boy – but lately she’d been thinking about him a little differentl y. He was opinionated and confident, and he always managed to compliment her on something – her new gold hoops, her color of lip gloss – each day. Maybe . . .

Before she could finish the thought, Kurt spoke up. ‘Listen, do you want to get milk shakes or something?’ He tossed his head, but his hair, neatly styled, didn ’t move. ‘My dad caught me watching the Style Network ’s makeover marathon – and it did
not
go over well.’

Mercedes giggled. Kurt’s dad had his own car repair shop, and he was the kind of manly man who liked to take apart engine s for kicks and didn ’t get anythin g tha t involved singing, dancing, or fashion, Kurt’s passions. ‘How did you manage to get out?’

Kurt laughed and grabbed a platinum-framed

photograph

from Mercedes ’s desk – it was the two of them singing at eighth-grade graduation. ‘I can’t believe you have this on displa y. I look like Macaulay Culkin here.’ He set down the picture. ‘I told him I had a date . . . with a girl.’ His dad had
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been unreasonably excited by the idea, so much so that Kurt had felt a little bad lying to him. His dad meant well, and deep inside, if he really thought of all the times Kurt had asked for dress-up clothes and Potte ry Barn tea sets instead of trucks, he probably knew that Kurt was not interested in girls as anything other than singing partners. But still, he had lent Kurt the keys to his SUV and told him not to stay out too late.

‘I can always go for a milk shake,’ Mercedes answered. ‘Let me change first.’ She expected Kurt to leave the room, but instead he just turned his back to Me rcedes and examined the clippings stapled to the corkboard next to her doo r.

‘I love how you’ve saved all of these,’ Kurt said, touching the concert ticket stubs that filled the board. Some of them had papers with autographs on them.

Me rcedes slipped out of her velour pants and into a pair of jeans. Why wouldn ’t Kurt just leave the room? Did he . . . like her? She started putting the pieces togethe r. Coming over to her house unannounced to apologize? Inviting her out for milk shakes? Not leaving the room while she was getting changed? What other explanation could there possibly be?

For the first time since Rachel Berry had stepped into the Glee practice room, Mercedes started to feel a teeny bit bette r.
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eight

Lima Freeze, Tuesday night

The Lima Freeze, in addition to the Lima Galleria Cineplex 8, the Olive Garden at the mall, and the benche s at the entranc e of the natur e trail in MacArthur City Park, was one of the few, and consequently the most popula r, of the Lima date night venues. It had been a Friendly ’s ice cream parlor that folded years ago and was bought by a local couple and slightly improved. The Freeze was located along a strip of Route 17 between the farms at the outskirts of Lima and the downtown area, which had several historic buildings in various states of disrepai r. Alon g the way, Mercede s watche d as they passed the Wegmans, the local groce ry chain, a karate place, a Pizza Hut, the senior citizens’ cente r, three banks, and a handful
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of other businesses that always appeared to be on the brink of going unde r. Kurt had cranked the stereo, which was hooke d into his iPod, and Kanye West was thumping through the car speakers.

‘I could get used to these darkened windows.’ Mercedes touched up her curly hair in the sun visor mirro r. ‘I feel like a rock star.’

‘Someda y, my dear.’ Kurt pulled into the parking lot. Nearly all the spots were take n by minivan s or beat-u p Buicks. Families with squirming kids were ordering from the take-out window and sitting at the sticky wooden picnic tables on the little concrete patio outside. Through the

slightly fogged-up windows, the booths all looked filled.

‘Dam n the masses.’ Kurt thumpe d his fist agains t the steering wheel in mock anger as he pulled in next to a shiny BMW. ‘They had the same brilliant idea we did.’

Me rcedes didn ’t mind the crowd. She liked the idea of being seen on a date with Kurt. She even liked just riding around with him in his dad’s SUV. It felt good to drive through the streets of Lima perched so high, looking through tinted-glass windows at the town she’d lived in her whole life. It seemed much prettie r. ‘Let’s go. I’m dying for my sugar rush.’ Inside, the Lima Freeze was packed, and the windows were fogged with the warmth of so many bodies. Kurt glanced around for any of the football players who harassed him, but he didn ’t see any. A lucky break. It was bad enough to be

slushied at school, but the last thing he needed was a milk
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shake thrown in his face in public. He had a hard time explaining to his father why so many of his shirts came home stained blue and purple and red.

‘I’ll have a Death by Chocolate frappe, please,’ Mercedes told the bored-looking teen behind the counte r. ‘Extra thick.’

‘A hot fudge sundae. Whipped cream. Don ’t forget the cher ry.’ Kurt eyed the group of soccer boys in a corner booth. One of them got up to refill his water glass, and Kurt watched as his calves flexed with each step.

As they scanned the ice cream parlor in vain for a table, the door opened and in walked Finn Hudson with Quinn Fabray, still in her Cheerios practice hoodie, on his arm.

‘Barbie and Ken just showed up,’ Mercedes announced.

‘Mmm.’ Kurt eyed the couple, trying to ignore the patter of his heart at the sight of Finn Hudson. ‘Looks like the Celibacy Club got out earl y.’

‘That table over there ’s going to ope n up. Let’s move ove r.’

Mercede s grabbe d Kurt’s sleeve and tugge d him aside. She stared at the thre e girls who were slurpin g the last of their milk shakes throug h straws . Table service was first come , first served; at rush hou r, tha t mean t you had to be ready to pounce. Finn and Quinn got to the front counte r.

‘She’s cute, but did you ever notice how her ears are kind of point y, like an elf’s?’ Kurt whispered in Mercedes ’s ear. She giggled. She hadn ’t noticed, but now that Kurt had pointed them out, she could totally picture Quinn running around with a quiver of arrows in those
Lord of the Rings
movies.
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‘Excuse me,’ Quinn muttered, casually

letting her purse

bump into Kurt’s back so that he’d take a step away. She liked coming to the Lima Freeze, but it was always so overrun by losers. ‘Finn, I’ll take a root beer float, with frozen yogurt and diet root beer.’ She smoothed the sides of her practice skirt. Usually she was careful about the number of calories she took in every day, but what with her good genes – her mother was still a size four – and her Cheerios workout, she figured she dese rved a treat. But she knew not to go too crazy or she’d be sluggish on her flips. ‘I’ll find a table. Those girls are almost done.’

‘I’m sorry. We’re actuall y waitin g for tha t table.’ Kurt handed the girl at the counter a crisp ten-dollar bill. Quinn stared at Kurt as if he were a cockroach. ‘I didn ’t see your name on it.’ She spun on the heel of her cheerleading sneakers, and her blond ponytail whirled through the air behind her. He and Me rcedes watched as Quinn sashayed up to the table where the three girls were sitting, still sipping from their milk shakes. They watched in awe as Quinn said a few words to the girls, who quickly stuffed their napkins into their almost-empty glasses and scooted out of the booth happil y, with smiles on their faces.

Quinn slipped into the booth, wiped the table with a napkin, and then waved at Finn, pointedly looking past Kurt and Mercedes.

‘Oh no, she didn ’t.’ Me rcedes wiped a trickle of ice cream off the rim of her milk shake glass. She glanced around the
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crowded restaurant. None of the other people looked even remotely interested in giving up their seats.

‘I’m, uh, sorry about that.’ Finn glanced nervously over his shoulder at Quinn, who was already leaning back in the booth talking to the soccer guys sitting behind her. A tiny strip of skin showed as her shirt crawled up her perfectly flat stomach. ‘Were you waiting for that table?’

Kurt’s mout h opened , but no words came out. Finn. Hudson. Was talkin g to him . Sure, he wasn ’t the sharpes t knife in the drawe r, but Kurt wasn ’t intereste d in his mind . Finn was gorgeous . He was the only guy on the footbal l team who always offered to hold Kurt’s designer jacket before the players slamme d Kurt into the Dumpste r. Besides that , Finn’s hair was always perfectl y mussed . His cheekbone s looke d like they could cut ice, and his brow n eyes were like the pools of chocolate in
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
. Kurt had admire d him from afar since tha t day freshma n year whe n Puck Puckerman and Jack Kurpatwinsk i had tried to thro w Kurt into a vat of grease in the cafeteri a kitche n after fried-chicke n day. Finn told them to knoc k it off, and they did. He was like Superman.