escritoireazul (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
escritoireazul) wrote2013-09-12 07:43 pm
escritoireazul) wrote2013-09-12 07:43 pm
(Not a) Fic: The Marching Band Refused to Yield (Glee)
This is not a fic. It is the rough outline and some notes of the rest of the marching band au, because it has become clear to me that I broke up with Glee SO HARD that I cannot fathom writing more. I still want to go back to it at some point, but for now, this is all there is. At least this way, there's something like closure, and if I ever do manage to come back to it, a fleshed out story is better than an outline.
Story Nine
September passes in fits and starts, hours on the practice field, football games and celebratory parties because they just keep winning, early mornings and late nights, homework scribbled in the few moments they can spare, and throughout it all, the knowledge that competition season is coming.
1. [quote from It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)]
Scenes from the party:
Quinn + Lauren have a moment
Mercedes + Sam have a moment
Tina + Mercedes have a moment
Body shots, etc., pull from old Lauren and Puck file
2. [quote from Sing Sing Sing]
Blaine + Kurt first date
3. [quote from Hey Pachuco]
Schue wants a guitarist, recruit Artie
Tina + Quinn have a moment
4. [quote from Zoot Suit Riot]
Second home football game, full show on the field, the tension of waiting, another win, tension in the band because they’re looking on to competition and the football boys want to enjoy their wins
Sam asks out Mercedes, Mercedes calls in everyone for support (even Lauren and Tina)
5. [quote from It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)]
Brittany + Santana sexy times
6. [quote from Sing Sing Sing]
Mercedes + Sam first date
7. [quote from Hey Pachuco]
Trumpet solo show down tension
Drum major sweetness
8. [quote from Zoot Suit Riot]
Third home football game, they win, so happy after, Lauren’s parents never make it, she gets called home, news of her brother’s death.
Brittany sticks her upper body out the window, twisting until she’s facing the guard.
“It’s marching season, bitch!” she yells, laughing as she does, and a cheer goes up.
#
#
She crawls into bed that day, so cold she puts on a long sleeve t-shirt and flannel pants and pulls the covers up to her chin, but she still can’t get warm. She doesn’t sleep, though. Sleep would be easier. Instead she lies on her back and stares at the ceiling. Her phone keeps vibrating and vibrating, but she doesn’t look at it, not even when it slips over the edge of her nightstand and falls to the soft carpet below.
Sometime later, the doorbell rings, feet thunder up the stairs, and suddenly she’s got a room full of friends. Mercedes and Quinn settle at the foot of her bed, but Tina climbs right in with her, under the covers and everything, and wraps her arms around Lauren.
It’s a fast thaw after that; Lauren’s breath hitches and her eyes burn. She breathes shallow and stares even harder at the ceiling. Tina holds her so tight she can feel their pulses lining up, Tina’s steady and quick, Lauren’s stuttering with her broken heart.
She doesn’t cry, though, not while they sit and bear witness.
#
It’s dark out when Mercedes squeezes her leg. “We’re so--” she starts, but Lauren sits up, extracting herself from Tina, and cuts her off.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice is low and cold, and she doesn’t mean to make them frown, but they do.
Quinn takes Mercedes’ hand. “Why don’t we watch a movie?” she suggests. Lauren nods, relieved because she doesn’t know what words to use or how to feel all these emotions welling up inside her.
Only one problem with that plan, and they figure it out pretty quick. Lauren’s favorite movies have explosions and guns and people dying, many of them soldiers. She can’t handle that, no matter how tough she likes to think herself. She just can’t.
Finally they find old episodes of Star Trek on tv. One by one, the others fall asleep, even Tina, snuggled against Lauren’s shoulder, her breath warm on the side of Lauren’s neck.
Lauren clenches her hands into the blankets and stares at the television until her eyes blur.
#
She goes to school the next day against everyone’s wishes. No, seriously, everyone. Mom and Dad. Tina. Mercedes. Even Quinn starts to argue, but cuts herself off and gives a short, sharp nod, steel settling over her expression. She’s the one who drives Tina and Mercedes home to change, but she’s right back for Lauren in time for them to make it to morning rehearsal. It’s Friday, game day, and they’re actually practicing on the football field at the high school. She’s never missed a game day practice before.
It’s not until Lauren’s standing in the line wearing her quads that she realizes how very stupid this plan is. Matt rolls off to start a warm-up cadence, and Lauren can’t breathe, the sound of the snare so loud in her ears, overwhelming her lungs and her heart and brain.
She stares resolutely forward and tries so hard to play her part, but she misses every beat, disturbs every rhythm. Finally Matt cuts them off, and she clutches her sticks, gasping for air, because she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe.
“I can’t,” she strangles out. Matt nods, and she steps out of the line, tugging at her harness. Mr. Schue must have been watching them, because he’s right there suddenly, reaching for her. She jerks away, the thought of another sympathetic pat on the back or awkward hug making her stomach roil.
He nods too, and he looks so sad she almost feels guilty for a second. Then she realizes it’s not about her at all. Mr. Schue was Billy’s band director for four years and last year when he came home to visit before shipping out, first teacher he visited was Mr. Schue. He’s in mourning too, and she really can’t stand seeing that.
“Go on,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’ll take care of your drums.”
Even though it’s been drilled into Lauren’s head to take care of her equipment, relief slides through her as she hands over her quads. She grabs her backpack from the bleachers and starts for the school.
“Lauren!” Quinn jogs over. When Lauren turns to face her, she tries not to think about the way the entire band is watching them. Waiting for her to break. That’s really not fair, but hell, the underclassmen never even knew Billy. They don’t care what’s happened.
(The juniors knew him, the seniors, and some of them have to be almost as heartbroken as she is. That doesn’t make her feel any less bitter that they’re walking around, their families the same as they were yesterday. That doesn’t make her feel any less trapped as they stare, not even trying to hide it.)
Quinn crosses her arms over her chest. Lauren slings her backpack over one shoulder and matches the pose. This is safer than if they touched, because the tears are burning again. She’s glad Quinn came over and not Tina or Mercedes. If they tried to hug her, she’d lose it.
She’s so very grateful that Quinn understands what she needs.
“Want my car?” she asks. Some of the tension runs out of Lauren’s shoulders. She’s not trapped here anymore -- not that she ever really was, but it sure felt like it -- she can take Quinn’s car and go wherever she needs. She tries to smile, but it feels more like a grimace.
“Thanks, but no. I just need a minute. I’m gonna get a soda.” Quinn doesn’t look convinced, her head tilted slightly to the left and her eyebrows raised. “I swear, if I need to get out of here, I’ll text you.”
“You’d better.” Quinn’s whole expression softens for an instant -- and in that moment, Lauren can breathe again -- and then she nods resolutely. “I’ll let you know if anything changes here.”
Lauren nods, grips the strap of her bag tightly in one hand, and heads towards the building. She’s not sure who does it -- Mr. Schue or Quinn or Matt -- but the drumline is silent until she disappears inside.
#
There’s no way all of her teachers like her enough to take pity on her -- she’s smart, but she’s a smartass, too, and some of them hate that -- so the only reason she can think of that she’s been left alone all day is that everyone still remembers Billy. She doesn’t blame them. How can they forget?
(She won’t let herself think about the fact that now, people will forget. Maybe even she’ll start to forget parts of him.)
Lauren gets her soda and wanders the school. First she heads to the weight room, but she can see Billy everywhere, showing her all the different lifts and spotting her when she tried to max out. The gym’s the same, Billy captain of the wrestling team and cheering her on every time she was on the mat. Finally she hides in the library for awhile, because though he was smart too, he preferred to work at home, at the kitchen table with endless snacks or sprawled in his bedroom.
The librarian looks at her, but doesn’t say anything, not even when she blatantly breaks the rules and drinks her soda. She sits there through all of first period and then second and then third. She considers joining her friends at lunch, but the thought of food makes her feel so violently ill she disappears into the bathroom for awhile, locking herself in one of the stalls just in case.
When she finally calms again, she grabs another soda and heads out to the football field. The afternoon sun is warm on her face, but mostly she just feels cold. Without the band, it’s just a field, and as long as she climbs to the top of the bleachers, far from where the drumline sits in the front rows, where she can picture Billy laughing and shoving his friends and hooking his arm across her shoulders while they cheer, she’s safe.
She can hear the bell out here, but it fades to the background. She leans against the metal bars and closes her eyes. Maybe if she waits long enough, when she opens them again, none of this will be real.
#
Someone thumps their way up the bleachers to her. She doesn’t open her eyes, because nothing’s changed. She’s still an only child now, and she doesn’t know how to be that. She doesn’t want to know, she’s never wanted to know. Instead she focuses on the footsteps. Heavy boots, maybe Tina or Quinn, both who know how to walk hard and loud when they want.
Whoever it is sits on the row right below her, and a broad, warm body leans against her legs. She doesn’t need the crinkle of a cigarette pack, the snap of a lighter, or the smell of clove cigarettes to give it away.
She opens her eyes and glares at the back of Puckerman’s head, but he doesn’t say anything, and after a few minutes, she lets herself relax. It’s kinda nice, sitting with him like this, everything silent and still. She doesn’t know what time it is, and she should probably check, because eventually school will end and then people will start trickling in for the football game. The bleachers actually fill most games now that Coach Beiste is turning things around.
Puckerman is doing something on his phone, probably texting because she doesn’t really think he plays many games on it. She presses her leg into him, and he leans against her harder still, grounding her.
Lauren finds herself able to breathe easy again for the first time since that moment with Quinn.
She’s just thinking about maybe doing something normal like checking her phone for messages when Hudson starts climbing the bleachers toward them. She crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight; Puckerman glances back at her, his expression unreadable, and she frowns at him.
Hudson’s kinda the last person she wants to see, because mostly she thinks he’s a hypocritical asshole who gets away with way too much because he’s got a pretty face, but also because he knows, and she’s not sure she’s ready to deal.
He sits next to her, not close enough they’re touching or anything weird like that, but close enough they’re obviously all sitting together. Puckerman faces forward again, shoves his hands into his coat pockets, and sprawls against her, his legs stretched out in front of him.
Hudson hunches forward, his elbows on his thighs, and stares out across the football field. She looks there too, but there’s nothing to see, just perfectly painted lines waiting to be torn up by cleats and boys slamming each other into the ground.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “It sucks,” he says. She doesn’t look at him; she can’t look at him, because she’s going to cry, she can feel her eyes burning and everything goes blurry. She sucks in one breath after another, too shallow, too fast. “It really, really sucks.”
Lauren’s not stupid. She knows soldiers die sometimes. She can’t really remember a time she didn’t know, because her parents watch war movies and she’s always read everything she can get her hands on, age appropriate or not. That knowledge went from abstract to sorta real when Hudson’s dad died and it became part of the shared knowledge of the town. It’s way too fucking real now, so real it feels fake. She wishes it were fake.
Even with that in common, she’s not sure why he’s there, except he’s Puckerman’s best friend despite everything between them, and somehow she and Puckerman have become friends despite everything between them, and hell, he and Quinn thought they loved each other once. Which makes Hudson her friend by proxy, she guesses, though by that logic it also makes him her ex by proxy.
When he reaches out and takes her hand, she squeezes her eyes shut against the tears and stops thinking about proxies or friendships or abstracts, because all she knows is how much it really, really hurts.
#
Puck and Quinn come to spend the night with Lauren after the game. Quinn tells Tina she’s going instead because Quinn sort of understands what it’s like to lose family. Lauren finally breaks down lying in between them, quiet. Quinn has a travel pack of tissues, but they go through them, and then Quinn wipes her cheeks dry with her fingers.
Puck and Quinn bring dinner to Lauren and her parents that night.
#
They do a moment of silence at the next game to honor him, and Mercedes and Rachel sing the Star Spangled Banner instead of the band playing it. Schue means for it to be a surprise for Lauren, but Quinn and Puck each tell her separately, because they know how much she will hate not being able to brace herself for it.
#
At the next competition, Matt gives the entire drumline black ribbons to tie around their arms. Lauren is standoffish, but Matt actually speaks and tells her that her brother was an amazing mentor to him. He chokes up a little but doesn’t cry.
#
At some point, maybe on the band bus on the way home from competition – Carmel isn’t there, and so their win doesn’t feel like it counts, plus Lauren is worn down from listening to the snare drums – Mike climbs into her seat with her, displacing Puck, and just wraps his arms around her in the biggest, warmest hug. He gives her some alcohol and Tina hangs over the back of the seat in front of them, stroking Lauren’s hair.
#
In one of the last games, the refs aren’t calling shit, Puck takes a hard hit, and Lauren flips the fuck out.
#
Halloween and that live Rocky Horror show and Sam’s parents do SCA and Sam’s mom calls in her sewing circle and they kit out the girls but good.
Be sure to recruit Artie from the A/V club to play guitar.
1. It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing) (brass feature)
2. Sing Sing Sing (guard feature) (trumpet solo) (Mercedes)
3. Hey Pachuco (drum feature)
4. Zoot Suit Riot
Story Nine
September passes in fits and starts, hours on the practice field, football games and celebratory parties because they just keep winning, early mornings and late nights, homework scribbled in the few moments they can spare, and throughout it all, the knowledge that competition season is coming.
1. [quote from It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)]
Scenes from the party:
Quinn + Lauren have a moment
Mercedes + Sam have a moment
Tina + Mercedes have a moment
Body shots, etc., pull from old Lauren and Puck file
2. [quote from Sing Sing Sing]
Blaine + Kurt first date
3. [quote from Hey Pachuco]
Schue wants a guitarist, recruit Artie
Tina + Quinn have a moment
4. [quote from Zoot Suit Riot]
Second home football game, full show on the field, the tension of waiting, another win, tension in the band because they’re looking on to competition and the football boys want to enjoy their wins
Sam asks out Mercedes, Mercedes calls in everyone for support (even Lauren and Tina)
5. [quote from It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)]
Brittany + Santana sexy times
6. [quote from Sing Sing Sing]
Mercedes + Sam first date
7. [quote from Hey Pachuco]
Trumpet solo show down tension
Drum major sweetness
8. [quote from Zoot Suit Riot]
Third home football game, they win, so happy after, Lauren’s parents never make it, she gets called home, news of her brother’s death.
Brittany sticks her upper body out the window, twisting until she’s facing the guard.
“It’s marching season, bitch!” she yells, laughing as she does, and a cheer goes up.
#
#
She crawls into bed that day, so cold she puts on a long sleeve t-shirt and flannel pants and pulls the covers up to her chin, but she still can’t get warm. She doesn’t sleep, though. Sleep would be easier. Instead she lies on her back and stares at the ceiling. Her phone keeps vibrating and vibrating, but she doesn’t look at it, not even when it slips over the edge of her nightstand and falls to the soft carpet below.
Sometime later, the doorbell rings, feet thunder up the stairs, and suddenly she’s got a room full of friends. Mercedes and Quinn settle at the foot of her bed, but Tina climbs right in with her, under the covers and everything, and wraps her arms around Lauren.
It’s a fast thaw after that; Lauren’s breath hitches and her eyes burn. She breathes shallow and stares even harder at the ceiling. Tina holds her so tight she can feel their pulses lining up, Tina’s steady and quick, Lauren’s stuttering with her broken heart.
She doesn’t cry, though, not while they sit and bear witness.
#
It’s dark out when Mercedes squeezes her leg. “We’re so--” she starts, but Lauren sits up, extracting herself from Tina, and cuts her off.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice is low and cold, and she doesn’t mean to make them frown, but they do.
Quinn takes Mercedes’ hand. “Why don’t we watch a movie?” she suggests. Lauren nods, relieved because she doesn’t know what words to use or how to feel all these emotions welling up inside her.
Only one problem with that plan, and they figure it out pretty quick. Lauren’s favorite movies have explosions and guns and people dying, many of them soldiers. She can’t handle that, no matter how tough she likes to think herself. She just can’t.
Finally they find old episodes of Star Trek on tv. One by one, the others fall asleep, even Tina, snuggled against Lauren’s shoulder, her breath warm on the side of Lauren’s neck.
Lauren clenches her hands into the blankets and stares at the television until her eyes blur.
#
She goes to school the next day against everyone’s wishes. No, seriously, everyone. Mom and Dad. Tina. Mercedes. Even Quinn starts to argue, but cuts herself off and gives a short, sharp nod, steel settling over her expression. She’s the one who drives Tina and Mercedes home to change, but she’s right back for Lauren in time for them to make it to morning rehearsal. It’s Friday, game day, and they’re actually practicing on the football field at the high school. She’s never missed a game day practice before.
It’s not until Lauren’s standing in the line wearing her quads that she realizes how very stupid this plan is. Matt rolls off to start a warm-up cadence, and Lauren can’t breathe, the sound of the snare so loud in her ears, overwhelming her lungs and her heart and brain.
She stares resolutely forward and tries so hard to play her part, but she misses every beat, disturbs every rhythm. Finally Matt cuts them off, and she clutches her sticks, gasping for air, because she can’t breathe, she can’t breathe.
“I can’t,” she strangles out. Matt nods, and she steps out of the line, tugging at her harness. Mr. Schue must have been watching them, because he’s right there suddenly, reaching for her. She jerks away, the thought of another sympathetic pat on the back or awkward hug making her stomach roil.
He nods too, and he looks so sad she almost feels guilty for a second. Then she realizes it’s not about her at all. Mr. Schue was Billy’s band director for four years and last year when he came home to visit before shipping out, first teacher he visited was Mr. Schue. He’s in mourning too, and she really can’t stand seeing that.
“Go on,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’ll take care of your drums.”
Even though it’s been drilled into Lauren’s head to take care of her equipment, relief slides through her as she hands over her quads. She grabs her backpack from the bleachers and starts for the school.
“Lauren!” Quinn jogs over. When Lauren turns to face her, she tries not to think about the way the entire band is watching them. Waiting for her to break. That’s really not fair, but hell, the underclassmen never even knew Billy. They don’t care what’s happened.
(The juniors knew him, the seniors, and some of them have to be almost as heartbroken as she is. That doesn’t make her feel any less bitter that they’re walking around, their families the same as they were yesterday. That doesn’t make her feel any less trapped as they stare, not even trying to hide it.)
Quinn crosses her arms over her chest. Lauren slings her backpack over one shoulder and matches the pose. This is safer than if they touched, because the tears are burning again. She’s glad Quinn came over and not Tina or Mercedes. If they tried to hug her, she’d lose it.
She’s so very grateful that Quinn understands what she needs.
“Want my car?” she asks. Some of the tension runs out of Lauren’s shoulders. She’s not trapped here anymore -- not that she ever really was, but it sure felt like it -- she can take Quinn’s car and go wherever she needs. She tries to smile, but it feels more like a grimace.
“Thanks, but no. I just need a minute. I’m gonna get a soda.” Quinn doesn’t look convinced, her head tilted slightly to the left and her eyebrows raised. “I swear, if I need to get out of here, I’ll text you.”
“You’d better.” Quinn’s whole expression softens for an instant -- and in that moment, Lauren can breathe again -- and then she nods resolutely. “I’ll let you know if anything changes here.”
Lauren nods, grips the strap of her bag tightly in one hand, and heads towards the building. She’s not sure who does it -- Mr. Schue or Quinn or Matt -- but the drumline is silent until she disappears inside.
#
There’s no way all of her teachers like her enough to take pity on her -- she’s smart, but she’s a smartass, too, and some of them hate that -- so the only reason she can think of that she’s been left alone all day is that everyone still remembers Billy. She doesn’t blame them. How can they forget?
(She won’t let herself think about the fact that now, people will forget. Maybe even she’ll start to forget parts of him.)
Lauren gets her soda and wanders the school. First she heads to the weight room, but she can see Billy everywhere, showing her all the different lifts and spotting her when she tried to max out. The gym’s the same, Billy captain of the wrestling team and cheering her on every time she was on the mat. Finally she hides in the library for awhile, because though he was smart too, he preferred to work at home, at the kitchen table with endless snacks or sprawled in his bedroom.
The librarian looks at her, but doesn’t say anything, not even when she blatantly breaks the rules and drinks her soda. She sits there through all of first period and then second and then third. She considers joining her friends at lunch, but the thought of food makes her feel so violently ill she disappears into the bathroom for awhile, locking herself in one of the stalls just in case.
When she finally calms again, she grabs another soda and heads out to the football field. The afternoon sun is warm on her face, but mostly she just feels cold. Without the band, it’s just a field, and as long as she climbs to the top of the bleachers, far from where the drumline sits in the front rows, where she can picture Billy laughing and shoving his friends and hooking his arm across her shoulders while they cheer, she’s safe.
She can hear the bell out here, but it fades to the background. She leans against the metal bars and closes her eyes. Maybe if she waits long enough, when she opens them again, none of this will be real.
#
Someone thumps their way up the bleachers to her. She doesn’t open her eyes, because nothing’s changed. She’s still an only child now, and she doesn’t know how to be that. She doesn’t want to know, she’s never wanted to know. Instead she focuses on the footsteps. Heavy boots, maybe Tina or Quinn, both who know how to walk hard and loud when they want.
Whoever it is sits on the row right below her, and a broad, warm body leans against her legs. She doesn’t need the crinkle of a cigarette pack, the snap of a lighter, or the smell of clove cigarettes to give it away.
She opens her eyes and glares at the back of Puckerman’s head, but he doesn’t say anything, and after a few minutes, she lets herself relax. It’s kinda nice, sitting with him like this, everything silent and still. She doesn’t know what time it is, and she should probably check, because eventually school will end and then people will start trickling in for the football game. The bleachers actually fill most games now that Coach Beiste is turning things around.
Puckerman is doing something on his phone, probably texting because she doesn’t really think he plays many games on it. She presses her leg into him, and he leans against her harder still, grounding her.
Lauren finds herself able to breathe easy again for the first time since that moment with Quinn.
She’s just thinking about maybe doing something normal like checking her phone for messages when Hudson starts climbing the bleachers toward them. She crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight; Puckerman glances back at her, his expression unreadable, and she frowns at him.
Hudson’s kinda the last person she wants to see, because mostly she thinks he’s a hypocritical asshole who gets away with way too much because he’s got a pretty face, but also because he knows, and she’s not sure she’s ready to deal.
He sits next to her, not close enough they’re touching or anything weird like that, but close enough they’re obviously all sitting together. Puckerman faces forward again, shoves his hands into his coat pockets, and sprawls against her, his legs stretched out in front of him.
Hudson hunches forward, his elbows on his thighs, and stares out across the football field. She looks there too, but there’s nothing to see, just perfectly painted lines waiting to be torn up by cleats and boys slamming each other into the ground.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “It sucks,” he says. She doesn’t look at him; she can’t look at him, because she’s going to cry, she can feel her eyes burning and everything goes blurry. She sucks in one breath after another, too shallow, too fast. “It really, really sucks.”
Lauren’s not stupid. She knows soldiers die sometimes. She can’t really remember a time she didn’t know, because her parents watch war movies and she’s always read everything she can get her hands on, age appropriate or not. That knowledge went from abstract to sorta real when Hudson’s dad died and it became part of the shared knowledge of the town. It’s way too fucking real now, so real it feels fake. She wishes it were fake.
Even with that in common, she’s not sure why he’s there, except he’s Puckerman’s best friend despite everything between them, and somehow she and Puckerman have become friends despite everything between them, and hell, he and Quinn thought they loved each other once. Which makes Hudson her friend by proxy, she guesses, though by that logic it also makes him her ex by proxy.
When he reaches out and takes her hand, she squeezes her eyes shut against the tears and stops thinking about proxies or friendships or abstracts, because all she knows is how much it really, really hurts.
#
Puck and Quinn come to spend the night with Lauren after the game. Quinn tells Tina she’s going instead because Quinn sort of understands what it’s like to lose family. Lauren finally breaks down lying in between them, quiet. Quinn has a travel pack of tissues, but they go through them, and then Quinn wipes her cheeks dry with her fingers.
Puck and Quinn bring dinner to Lauren and her parents that night.
#
They do a moment of silence at the next game to honor him, and Mercedes and Rachel sing the Star Spangled Banner instead of the band playing it. Schue means for it to be a surprise for Lauren, but Quinn and Puck each tell her separately, because they know how much she will hate not being able to brace herself for it.
#
At the next competition, Matt gives the entire drumline black ribbons to tie around their arms. Lauren is standoffish, but Matt actually speaks and tells her that her brother was an amazing mentor to him. He chokes up a little but doesn’t cry.
#
At some point, maybe on the band bus on the way home from competition – Carmel isn’t there, and so their win doesn’t feel like it counts, plus Lauren is worn down from listening to the snare drums – Mike climbs into her seat with her, displacing Puck, and just wraps his arms around her in the biggest, warmest hug. He gives her some alcohol and Tina hangs over the back of the seat in front of them, stroking Lauren’s hair.
#
In one of the last games, the refs aren’t calling shit, Puck takes a hard hit, and Lauren flips the fuck out.
#
Halloween and that live Rocky Horror show and Sam’s parents do SCA and Sam’s mom calls in her sewing circle and they kit out the girls but good.
Be sure to recruit Artie from the A/V club to play guitar.
1. It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing) (brass feature)
2. Sing Sing Sing (guard feature) (trumpet solo) (Mercedes)
3. Hey Pachuco (drum feature)
4. Zoot Suit Riot
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