Chapter Text
One might be surprised at the news of Artie Abrams returning to McKinley with a daughter old enough to be a student there, when he was expected to make a name for himself as a film director in New York. In all honesty, even he didn’t see that coming.
Baby Izzy came to him during a moment of struggle. Despite his expectations of a better life in the Big Apple, nothing had been going right for him. Early into his stay, he had been mugged by a homeless man—and yes, he was able to fight back eventually, but in hindsight, that may have been a harbinger of what was to come. Freshly out of a high school relationship, he was blinded by the sudden overabundance of female attention he received at Brooklyn Film Academy, and his recklessness and carelessness came back to bite him in the form of a harrowing chlamydia diagnosis, just as he had started to develop genuine romantic interest in a classmate he had been working with.
That was when everything began to crash and burn. Bags in the Wind, the short film he had worked so hard on and was so proud of, was mercilessly trashed by his teachers, who accused him of copying American Beauty, a movie he had never even seen in full. The ladies he once had successfully wrapped around his finger suddenly wanted no business with him, professional or otherwise, and even Julie, who had promised to wait for his recovery, had been easily swept off her feet by another guy before that time could come. It was as if all of Artie’s progress had dissolved, and he had reverted back to being an unloved Lima Loser.
But then, came a knock on his door—and with it, a portable carrier with a sleeping baby girl inside.
The documents that came with the carrier made no secret of it: that was his daughter, biologically proven. As it turned out, Artie had hastily broken up with his last high school paramour via text, completely unaware that he had gotten her pregnant the month before, and she never found it in her to tell him before he left for New York. The letter packed alongside the DNA tests put it quite succinctly: he had ruined her life, and now she had thrust upon him the responsibility of caring for their child while she built it back from the ground up. Artie didn’t know what to make of it; initially, he wanted to convince himself that it was all a sick joke, a prank to further humiliate him.
But then, the baby’s eyes first met his, and her tiny little hand wrapped around his index finger. Just like that, all that uncertainty and hesitance washed away, cleansed by sudden, all-encompassing warmth.
Love. Like he had never felt before.
♪ Isn't she lovely, life and love are the same
Life is Aisha, the meaning of her name... ♪
For his first weeks of fatherhood, Artie remained tight-lipped about Izzy’s existence. His friends were accomplishing so many incredible things, he didn’t want to take away from that by suddenly revealing he had a child to look after—and after Sam lashed out at him for sleeping around bareback, he didn’t want to take any chances. Though as luck would have it, it was Sam of all people who discovered his secret first, running into him as he was shopping for diapers. To Artie’s relief, Sam was surprisingly receptive, and vowed to help keep his secret under lock and key.
Over the years, Artie’s other friends accomplished big milestones in their post-New Directions lives, from Kurt and Blaine’s marriage and eventual messy divorce, to Rachel’s TV show, seemingly an unexpected side quest, being a smash hit and running for sixth uninterrupted seasons until the seventh had to be delayed and shortened due to the pandemic, to Mercedes becoming a widely respected, Grammy-winning recording artist, going from opening act on The Formation World Tour to main attraction on her own sold-out world tours, the most recent of which was dedicated to the memory of Santana Lopez. Amidst all of this, little by little, they also also came to know of his precious little girl, providing her with a steady circle of loving aunties and uncles; unsurprisingly, Auntie Tina had always been her favorite. Not to mention Izzy also came to develop an almost sisterly friendship with Beth Corcoran, also raised in New York around the same time, and fully engrained in the performing arts—seeing Beth so grown, gradually shaping up into a formidable young woman and a musical theatre powerhouse to rival even her own adoptive older sister, confounds Artie, who still remembers being there when Quinn Fabray was in labor with her.
After dropping out of film school, when Izzy was still a few months old, Artie had to do what he could to support her, relocating from Brooklyn to the Bronx and eventually starting his own freelance videography business. It was worlds away from the kind of directing he set out to do when he moved to New York, but there was something surprisingly fulfilling about capturing people’s dearest memories for them to keep reliving. Birthdays, weddings, baby showers, graduations… Even funerals had a special quality to them; having lost a few friends over the years, Artie can certainly empathize with the mourners.
None of those, however, compare to the countless hours of footage he amassed of his own daughter throughout her life thus far. When you grow up having an aspiring filmmaker for a parent, it is pretty much inevitable that your entire childhood is caught on camera—most of all in the day and age of social media.
Come present day, and in addition to his regular day job, fully settled in Lima in such a short time, Artie is back at his alma mater to offer mentorship to not just his daughter, but a whole new batch of underdogs. To really earn his place in WMHS’ staff, he has taken up a position as teacher for the kids with special needs, including Principal Sylvester’s daughter, junior class president Robin. It’s not too different from when he had to tutor his classmates back in the day, and it makes his new responsibility all the more fulfilling.
Not as fulfilling, though, is when he stops by the bulletin board to check on the sign-up sheet, grumbling to himself as he scans it on his way to the teachers’ lounge. Placing himself at the table, he puts the sheet down and shakes his head in disappointment, rubbing one of his temples. “Now I get how Mr. Schue felt...”
Sitting opposite him are two fellow faculty members, a slightly older man with short, sandy blonde hair, and a younger woman, almost fae-like in appearance, dressed in fluttery bohemian fashion and with little fabric flowers adorning her ample, coily hair. “I beg your pardon… I suppose you’re the Arthur Abrams who was just hired recently,” the woman muses, smiling politely when she gets his attention. “I’m Anabiel Stonecrop, guidance counselor.” She gestures to the man next to her. “This is Casey Rhodes, martial arts instructor.”
“Wait, Rhodes?” Artie wonders, furrowing his brows. “As in…”
Casey nods sheepishly. “Yeah, she’s my mom.”
Artie, wide-eyed, wheels back slightly, completely taken aback by that new information. April Rhodes, now that’s a name he hadn’t heard in years. “I didn’t know she had kids!”
“She gave me and my sister up for adoption,” Casey explains, “No points guessing why.”
Artie taps his chin, recalling the times April stopped by to offer some of her experience to New Directions—and struggling to wrap his head around the idea of such a normal-looking guy having come from that hot mess of a woman, even if she hadn’t exactly been present in his life. “So you’re here because of her?”
“Pretty much,” Casey answers, letting Anabiel pour some tea from her ceramic teapot into his own plastic cup. “I reconnected with her after becoming Pai Zhua master, and she recommended me personally to Principal Sylvester. Let’s just say it pays much better than the Harwood County Zoo.”
“Oh, sure, the payment is worth it, but these kids seem like a handful, way more than they were in my day,” Artie murmurs, nudging the sheet towards his fellow faculty members. “I mean, look at these… Yuri Nator? Tess T. Culls? Gofak Youssef… Ligma Balls?! That meme’s been around for a decade now, don’t these kids know how tired it’s become?!”
With a loud groan, Artie covers his face, overhearing the deep sigh coming from Casey as he glances at Anabiel. “At least there’s still the assembly coming up,” Anabiel reminds Artie, “Depending on what you have prepared, you could very well turn that around and recruit some students who aren’t completely dismissive of Glee Club.”
Artie musters up a faint smile in response. “Keeping everything crossed, sister,” he states, crossing his fingers on both hands. “As long as it doesn’t devolve into a sex riot, I think everything should work out smoothly.”
“A what riot?”
“Long story.”
Shrugging off the brief confusion, Anabiel takes a sip from her tea, while Casey unwraps a ham and cheese sandwich from his bag and Artie turns back to the sheet, unaware of the tall, muscular man who’s just walked in. “Hey, guys! What’s cooking?”
Casey turns to the new arrival with a smile. “Hey, Sam!” he greets, watching Sam pour himself some coffee. “I see your boys are doing pretty well!”
“You bet!” Sam responds cheerfully, “The way training’s been going, that homecoming game is ours to lose. I just wish some of them wouldn’t be so aggressive sometimes. It’s totally cool that they’re so dedicated to the game, but they gotta tone it down a little bit, y’know? Especially Hugo. I remember on the last game of the season, he sent three guys from the opposing team straight to the ER.”
Recognizing the name and the voice, Artie tilts up his face towards the man and carefully wheels towards him, eyes wide with wonder. “...Sam?”
“Oh, hey, Artie,” Sam responds mindlessly, downing all of his coffee in one go—but right after swallowing, he pauses. The plastic cup comes down, and he slowly turns around, equally stunned. “...Artie?!”
Turns out Artie’s brain isn’t playing tricks on him—that is, indeed, his good friend Sam Evans, with the same "trouty mouth" and blonde hair, but noticeably darker roots. “DUDE!” he shouts, high-fiving Artie before they come together in an elated hug. “It’s been way too long! I didn’t even know you came back!”
“Izzy and I just moved here!” Artie states, “I took over the Glee Club because of her!”
“Wait, Glee Club’s back? Was anyone gonna tell me?”
As happy as the reunion may be, it still leaves Anabiel awkwardly shuffling in her seat, essentially left out. “I’m sorry, you guys know each other?”
The two men turn back to Anabiel, as Sam excitedly points at himself and Artie. “We were in New Directions together!”
Anabiel lets out an excited gasp at this. “How lovely! I see the stars have aligned!” she remarks, clasping her hands together, before turning to Artie and adding, “Perhaps we could get some of the football team to join the Sparks too!”
“Not a bad idea on paper!” Artie responds, wheeling back to the table and taking the sign-up sheet. “In practice… We’ll see.”
Artie proceeds to leave the teachers’ lounge, with a giddy Sam following him out into the halls. “Dude, you have no idea of how much you missed out on!” Sam points out, “McKinley’s got a lacrosse team now! And there was a big expansion a couple years ago, they added a new floor with a bunch of new classrooms, and elevators!”
“No way! Took them long enough!”
Anabiel and Casey watch the two men leave their line of sight, taking in the pleasant energy of a reunion between cherished friends. Amidst the chaos that comes with the beginning of a new school year, moments of levity like these are always welcomed. At the same time, though, they can’t help but exchange glances of dread, as they both know sooner or later, Artie will inevitably have to cross paths with the other New Directions alumna who’s also part of the faculty staff these days.
Later that day, students and teachers alike are taking their seats at the gymnasium for the annual fall homecoming assembly. All the students remain within the confines of their own cliques, including a blind girl in round sunglasses and light-colored clothing maneuvering through the crowd, tapping her walking stick as she searches for the seat with the best acoustics, while the Titans and Cheerios predictably get the seats with the best views. There’s still some internal conflict though, as one can tell by Kermit, now proudly rocking his own Cheerios uniform, rudely nudging Beverly. “You’re in my seat, fatty! Move over!” he sneers, shoving her off the seat.
Beverly, who avoids a harsh landing thanks to Candice to the left of that particular seat, strikes him with a glare. “Who told you that was your seat?”
“It’s the seat with the best possible view of the stage,” Kermit confidently responds, making himself comfortable. “And now that I’m captain, I deserve nothing but the best. Alright, coach, you can come in!”
He gestures towards Kitty, who takes the seat to his right, followed by the rest of the Cheerios. Grumbling, Beverly turns to Candice, who pats the empty seat next to her, which Beverly complies with. “Still sour that you’re not top of the pyramid anymore?” Candice wonders, “If it makes you feel better, you don’t seem any heavier.”
Beverly lets out a resigned sigh, slumping back against the bleacher behind her. “I can’t take any chances,” she murmurs, “I worked so hard for that cheer captain spot, yet that twink just waltzes in and snatches it away willy-nilly for contorting himself like a little strawberry pretzel, and now he’s going around acting as if he’s Leo DiCaprio aboard the Titanic.”
“Can you flex for me?”
“What?”
“Flex your arm. I wanna see something.”
Beverly, still bemused, obliges anyway, flexing an arm and allowing Candice to squeeze her bicep. “Yup, as I thought!” Candice cheerfully concludes, “It’s not fat, you just got jacked over the summer! It’s not as bad… I’m sure you’re strong enough to lift me with one hand now!”
This, unfortunately, isn’t enough to console Beverly. “Muscle or not, it’s still weight gain,” she reminds her friend, “And if you want to be top of the pyramid, that’s a major red flag. Sectionals are coming up, we have to be in tip-top shape. Don’t wanna let Principal Sylvester down.”
Speak of the devil, as Principal Sylvester soon takes to the mic, filling the air with screeching feedback. “Silence, silence! Attention, everyone!” she commands, watching as the chatter gradually diminishes around her. “Welcome, once again, to our homecoming pep assembly. First, a few announcements. The sinks of the men’s restroom are currently clogged with hairballs, and we are working on fixing that. To whoever’s responsible for this, I suggest you get a buzz cut, otherwise I’ll shove your sorry face against an industrial cheese grater. We are also working on installing garbage cans around the bleachers and football field and hiring specialized security guards, to prevent disorder and physical aggression between fans during our teams' games.”
Off to the side of the stage is Artie, tapping his fingers against his lap as he awaits his turn to speak. “Now, for those who are living under a rock, or had their brains completely smoothed by Italian brainrot memes and were flat-out not paying attention… Somehow, the Glee Club has returned, like a zombie rising from its grave to feast on the brains of today’s biggest pop artists, all thanks to the efforts of a washed-up Class of 2013 graduate and his Chlamydia baby. Please welcome, Arthur Abrams.”
Principal Sylvester takes a step away from the microphone, and a polite round of applause welcomes Artie as he adjusts the microphone stand to his level. “Thank you! Thank you very much!” Artie speaks up, somewhat flustered. “First of all…” He looks at Principal Sylvester, addressing her directly. “That was one time. And Sam,” He throws Sam a point that Cooper Anderson would’ve been proud of. “I still remember what you said back then! Bold of you to slut-shame me when you dated the entire Unholy Trinity, and then some.”
An amused chorus of ‘ooh’s with a side of applause echoes through the gymnasium, causing a flustered Sam to cover his face with one hand as the football players tap his shoulders with lascivious laughter. “As you guys can see, me and him go way back,” Artie continues, “And you guys know why? ‘Cause the Glee Club brought us together. In my day, Glee Club used to be the safe haven where jocks and losers were allowed to be friends… Where no matter how high or low you were on the food chain, you could still chase your dreams, and express yourself to your heart’s content.”
Although most of the audience is paying close attention to Artie’s speech, the Titans’ quarterback isn’t even listening, far more focused on finding Candice in the crowd and flashing her a wink from afar. “Glee Club was the place where I found my calling, and it could help you find yours, too!” Artie continues, “If you need any further incentive, then strap in, and enjoy the show.”
He bows his head and wheels offstage to where Anabiel is sat, eagerly awaiting the start of the Sparks’ debut performance. Admittedly, he’s a little nervous, as it’s his first time spectating a Glee Club assembly performance, and he knows the song they chose may not be to everybody’s tastes, but hopefully it should get their message across.
The red curtains of the stage flutter open, revealing the four Sparks in simple, matching outfits: all in tawny tops, black leather vests and mesh gloves, with Danny and Nico in black baggy pants and Izzy and Yasmin in black tennis skirts, with shorts underneath for good measure. All four sport headset mics, and Danny, Yasmin and Nico are slouched with their backs to the audience, while Izzy stands in the wings. She glances at Artie, and from afar, he gives her a supportive thumbs-up, beaming.
Reassured, Izzy takes a deep breath and gives the go-ahead to Fernweh backstage. Poised and focused, she walks onstage.
Showtime.
“We come into this world unknown... But know that we are not alone,” Izzy recites, tapping her comrades one by one, making each of them straighten their posture and raise their chins, as Yasmin turns around for her cue. “They try to knock us down, but change is coming, it's our time now.”
[Yasmin] ♪ Hey, this is not a funeral
It's a revolution, after all, your tears have turned to rage
Just wait, everything will be okay
Even when you're feeling like it's going down in flames ♪
The kids sing with determination, working their way through simple, but energetic choreography. Even if they’re still a fledgeling Glee Club, they’re doing what they can to put their best foot forward, and express their intentions in a way that reaches out to the right people. In the audience, Artie and Casey bob their heads along, while Anabiel, sat next to him, is more concerned with the fact that the Cheerios coach had long since left her seat, and is currently talking to Kermit at the entrance of the gymnasium, as he had also gotten up and followed her out of concern.
[Danny] ♪ Oh, people like us we've gotta stick together
Keep your head up, nothing lasts forever ♪
[Nico] ♪ Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten
It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom ♪
[All] ♪ Oh, whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh
We are all misfits living in a world on fire
Oh, whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us ♪
[Izzy] ♪ They can't do nothing to you, they can't do nothing to me
This is the life that we choose, this is the life that we bleed ♪
[Yasmin] ♪ So throw your fists in the air, come out, come out if you dare
Tonight we're gonna change forever ♪
Their performance is met with a wide array of reactions from the audience. The remaining Cheerios exchange mocking laughter amidst one another, and most of the Titans are either baffled or derisive, except for Candice’s quarterback boyfriend and Cedric, who are both intrigued. However, there are some kids who are genuinely enraptured by the song. Rajesh can’t take his eyes off Izzy, the girl with multicolored hair is having a little boogie in her seat, and the blind girl has her walking stick on her lap, gently drumming along it.
[All] ♪ Oh, whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh
We are all misfits living in a world on fire
Oh, whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us
Oh, whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh
You've just got to turn it up loud when the flames get higher
Oh, whoa-oh-oh, whoa-oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us ♪
With their fists and heads held high, the Sparks finish their song, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, that being the only sound heard throughout the, once again, silent gymnasium. Artie ducks into his wheelchair, bracing himself for potential backlash; seeing this, Sam springs out of his seat in fervorous applause, prompting everyone to follow suit out of respect.
The kids laugh as they get offstage and walk down the halls, with Nico ecstatically high-fiving Yasmin and Izzy. “That was EPIC!” he exclaims, going for a high-five with Danny—only to be rejected. “Dude, what’s wrong? You didn’t like it?”
“No, of course I did!” Danny replies, “I just… I really need to take a shower right now. And you guys should too! I mean, look at us! We’re glistening!”
“Dude, it’s show choir,” Yasmin remarks, “You gotta put your blood, sweat and tears into it!”
“But mom’s gonna kill me if I come home with sweat stains!”
“It’s just sweat stains, what’s the big deal?”
Izzy chuckles, well aware of what exactly the big deal is. Even if she’s never met Mrs. Schuester, at the very least she’s heard of her from Artie’s recollections, so she knows exactly what to expect from both her and her family—and so far, Danny is certainly living up to the expectations.
Although summer has long since ended, the sun still beats down onto the McKinley Titans as they practice for the much-anticipated homecoming game, beads of sweat raining down against the freshly-trimmed grass as they put their game plan into practice. It goes smoothly, that is until the quarterback gets on Terence’s case for taking the ball from him ahead of time, resulting in Sam having to step in before things get too ugly. Thankfully, they’re able to go through with practice without a hitch, and soon, the boys have hit the showers, allowing the lacrosse girls to take over for their own game the following day.
On the way to his locker following a fittingly refreshing shower, Cedric happens upon the quarterback, isolated from their teammates, visibly vexed as he types up and sends a text message on his phone while drying himself. “Hugo, dude… Are you okay?”
Hugo grunts, glancing at Cedric as he approaches and sits next to him. “It’s my mom,” he states, “Bugging me about my grades, again.”
“She’s still dwelling on that?”
Hugo nods in resented agreement. “I’ve been trying to dedicate myself to improving my prowess on the field to make up for that,” he explains, “But some of the guys really aren’t of much help, y’know? It’s like they’re in it only for the glory… and to get some ass every once in a while.”
Cedric gives him a knowing glance. “Yeah, they can get dates… But you’re one of the few who can actually make them stay,” he remarks with a playful nudge. “You and Candice have lasted way longer than I expected!”
Hugo chuckles coyly in response, averting his gaze. “It’s about walking a mile in her shoes, y’know?” he states, “If you really wanna make a relationship work, you gotta commit to it, allow yourself to be vulnerable. Head and heart in the game… And you’re good at that, too. I could see you landing one for the long haul.”
“I don’t know, I’m not really drawn to any of the Cheerios myself…”
Their conversation is cut short by the sound of Sam blowing into his whistle as he enters the locker room, with Artie following him in, earning hushed snickers from some of the other Titans. “Okay, guys, listen up!” he commands, “You were all there for the assembly, so you probably know where we’re going with this, but just so we’re all on the same page, I’m gonna let Mr. Abrams talk.”
A pat on the back encourages Artie to wheel forward, looking around at the football players. “As I’ve made you guys aware of earlier, we need a few more members in Glee Club,” he explains, “I get that this could be tricky, judging by the vandalism that was done to the sign-up sheet outside, but I oughta remind you boys that some of New Directions’ star performers were also football players. Or do the names Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman not ring a bell?”
The atmosphere in the locker room suddenly turns bittersweet, as the team turns to the pair of framed jerseys displayed next to the whiteboard, memorials to the two late star players. “Exactly,” Artie adds, “Even though they had their reservations, Finn and Puck turned out to be valuable assets to the Glee Club. And hopefully, at least one of you guys could be too.”
Hugo looks on intently, which does not escape Cedric, while some of the other guys exchange mocking chuckles behind them. “That cripple thinks he can tell us what to do!” says Terence.
Even in hushed tones, the derisive remark is still very much within Artie’s earshot, and he proceeds to give Terence a strict look. “Excuse you, I was part of the team for some time,” he warns, “If I were you, I wouldn’t even consider disrespecting a living battering ram.”
A visibly unsettled Terence takes a step back, murmuring to his peers, as Artie turns his attention back to the team as a whole. “Now, if any of you would like to volunteer, I have placed a new sign-up sheet outside, and will be placing an additional copy right here, to make it more accessible. Thank you for listening.”
As Artie wheels towards Sam and speaks with him away from the team’s earshot, Hugo considers chiming in, but brings his hand down and remains quiet in hesitance. He can’t quite tell exactly what they’re saying, but he knows a thing or two about lip movement, and it stings to see his name still on their lips, even if he doesn’t quite agree with some of his teammates’ standing on the Glee Club matter.
He’s not a bad person, he’s just a little too pressured at the moment.
And through it all, Cedric remains observant.
That night, with the burgeoning Glee Club still on her mind, Principal Sylvester takes to her segment on the local news, which has remained even after the anchors from her day have retired, to vent out her feelings. “You know, we as a country have been bleeding money ever since Trump took office, all because the billionaires running the show have been placing tariffs on every country in the world and throwing tantrums over nobody showing up to their birthday military parades, and unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about it but work with what we’re given,” she states to the camera, “Since the start of the school year, there have been rumblings of a new Glee Club being instituted at McKinley High, and having purged the bubblegum plague of New Directions from the face of the town, it’s no surprise that I have a bone to pick with that.”
At the Abrams household, Izzy and Artie are sitting through the whole segment, staring at the TV in concern. “Why would you want to, say, start a Glee Club with hormonal, unstable human teenagers, prone to spreading germs and teen pregnancies around, when you could just rely on AI to do the job for you?” Principal Sylvester continues, “Just generate a few dozen uncanny valley residents and have them perform artificial covers of whatever sonic slop is unleashed onto the American public’s eardrums by whatever new incomprehensible name is being planted by the industry right now. So what if it’s destroying the environment, or taking away jobs, or even making our kids dumber? It’s the cheaper option, and with how advanced that technology is getting, nobody’s going to notice. At the end of the day, we ought to accept that AI is the future, and if you think you can make a name for yourself with human art, I hate to break it to you, but you can’t have your ‘moonbeam ice cream’ and eat it too.”
With a look of nonchalant confidence, she brings her hand up, in a familiar C shape. “And that’s how Sue C’s it.”
A disgruntled Artie turns the TV off. “Unbelievable,” Artie murmurs, rolling to his work desk. “Even when she’s not an active threat, she’s still trying to sabotage the Glee Club. I was already dreading that the song would come across as too preachy, and all that coming from someone with so much local influence doesn’t help at all.”
Izzy, pursing her lower lip, follows him to the desk, pulling up a chair to sit next to him. “So what if that’s the case?” she inquires, “That certainly didn’t stop Yasmin and Nico from speaking out against her. And I doubt it’ll stop any other kids from taking a chance in the Glee Club. It certainly didn’t stop Uncle Sam, I know this much!”
“That all depends on which Uncle Sam you’re referring to.”
Artie’s words somewhat deflate Izzy’s mood, reminding her of their bittersweet reality. “Pops… Is it weird that I still feel like an outsider here?” she confesses, “I mean, sure, I’ve made some friends, we’re getting the Glee Club off the ground, but… I don’t know, it’s like I’ve been plopped into a much smaller pond than what I’m used to back in New York. I’ve seen how the other students talk about me, I’ve heard their whispers in the halls. I’m afraid I’m coming across as too much.”
Noticing how downcast Izzy is, Artie gestures for her to come closer, allowing her to sit on his lap. “You know, a wise poet once said that if people think you’re too much, they should go find less,” he tells her, “Why are you caring so much about what they have to say, all of a sudden?”
Izzy breathes heavily, mentally wondering to herself how to make her thoughts come across in a way that isn’t completely depreciative. “You were considered a loser back in the day,” she states, “Now I’m afraid I’m being seen as one too.”
"You? A loser?"
♪ No, we're not odd, it's true, no fam'ly could be saner
Except one uncle who... well, maybe let that pass!
In all you say or do, you couldn't make it plainer
You are your mother's daughter, therefore you are class ♪
Izzy lets out a slight huff as she props herself off her father’s lap, leaning against the nearest windowsill and looking out at the brightly-lit streets outside.
[Izzy] ♪ So I should just accept I'm simply not like them ♪
[Artie] ♪ They are the common herd
And you could take my word
You are unique, crème de la crème ♪
Smiling tenderly, Artie addresses Izzy, and the praise, admittedly gets her eyes to meet his, even if just for a brief moment. She can’t help but think it’s a bit much, but he means every word of it, and she’s well aware of this.
♪ No matter what you do, I'm on your side
And if my point of view is somewhat misty-eyed
There's nothing clearer in my life
Than what I wish and feel for you
And that's a lot, no matter what ♪
Enraptured in the song, Izzy lets her gaze drift to one of the framed pictures on the coffee table, approaching it to have a better look. Childhood memories of roaming the streets of Times Square with her father come flooding back; the shared laughter, the loud glow of the colorful advertisements around them, the cold sensation of the ice cream melting over her fingers urging her to finish her cone already.
[Artie] ♪ Now some may say all fathers just exaggerate ♪
[Izzy] ♪ That every daughter's great? ♪
[Artie] ♪ You are! ♪
[Izzy] ♪ And every daughter tends to say her father's tops ♪
[Artie] ♪ She pulls out all the stops
To praise him ♪
[Both] ♪ And quite rightly! ♪
Izzy giggles as she watches Artie turn his chair towards her, wheeling closer and letting her rest her arms on his knees, locking eyes with him. There’s something special about those quiet bonding moments, how he pats her head and runs his fingers through her hair, the occasional poke on the nose that she gives him… It comes as reassurance that whenever they are, it’ll feel like home as long as they have each other.
[Artie] ♪ No matter what the pain, we've come this far
I pray that you remain exactly as you are
This really is a case of father knowing best ♪
[Izzy] ♪ And daughter too! ♪
[Artie] ♪ You're never strange ♪
[Izzy] ♪ Don't ever change ♪
[Both] ♪ You’re all I've got, no matter what ♪
As they finish the song, father and daughter come together in a tender embrace, allowing themselves to come down from that quick moment. Soon, Izzy pulls away, while Artie chuckles to himself, overcome with nostalgia. “Y’know, we should definitely do a Disney week in Glee Club,” he suggests, “We rarely ever touched Disney music back in the day. I’m guessing we just didn’t have the budget for it.”
Izzy laughs, mentally noting that before her gaze drifts to the computer screen behind her father. “I reckon we can think about that after you finish editing that footage,” she states, “Because I’d rather not be responsible for putting a genius filmmaker off-track again.”
“You gon’ finish your homework too?”
“Right on!”
Artie watches as Izzy leaps off his lap and heads back to her bedroom, leaving him to turn his focus back on editing the footage he’s working on. A wedding. The newlyweds on the dance floor, overcome with joy. A little girl, no older than 4—the bride’s daughter from a previous marriage, he recalls—relishing in the moment with her mother and new stepfather. Both families toasting, giving speeches… dancing. A showcase of the impact music, and art as a whole, can have on people. To think that so many people still look down on it, to the point of considering shortcuts like AI, is enough to make his heart sink.
This whole Glee Club thing better work out the right way this time.
Despite Artie’s concerns, he and Izzy come to school the next day to find actual names written on the sign-up sheet, right under the double entendre prank names, and take their time to briefly rejoice before parting ways for their respective classes of the day, keeping auditions in the back of their minds until the time is right. First on the list is, of all people, Rajesh, who’s already in the April Rhodes Civic Pavillion by the time Artie and the Sparks arrive for auditions, and Izzy is quick to recognize him. “Oh, wow, you liked our performance that much?” she wonders, holding back an amused giggle.
Rajesh, who up until that point had been sitting by the wings, quickly gets up and heads for the microphone. “Oh, do forgive me! I just didn’t want to get lost on my way here,” he explains, smiling sheepishly. “I’m just really bad with directions.”
“Nah, man, you’re good,” Artie responds, taking his place at the table in the middle of the auditorium seats, with the four Sparks sitting to his sides. “Just give us your name, pronouns, and your song. You can start singing right away if you feel like you’re ready.”
Rajesh exhales, shaking his limbs loose to soothe his nerves. “I’m Rajesh Mirchandani… But some of you may be familiar with that already,” he introduces himself, briefly glancing at Izzy and Danny as the two take their seats in the audience. “Pronouns he/him, and I’ll be singing Teach Me Tonight by Frank Sinatra.”
♪ Did you say I've got a lot to learn
Well, don't think I'm trying not to learn
Since this is the perfect spot to learn
Teach me tonight
The sky's a blackboard high above you
And if a shooting star goes by
I'll use that star to write "I love you"
A thousand times across the sky
What I need most is post graduate
What I feel is hard to articulate
If you want me to matriculate
You'd better teach me tonight ♪
Artie and the kids are pleasantly surprised by Rajesh’s deep, silky-smooth vocals and clear enunciation, even if his stage presence isn’t exactly something to write home about. Still, it’s good enough to get him accepted into the club, and the equally deep sigh of relief that rises from his throat once he’s told of this comes as if he had been rescued from drowning.
Meanwhile, the girl with multicolored hair happily skips down the halls on her way to the auditorium—but stops as she notices a hand on her face and a familiar tracksuit blocking her view, rolling her eyes in response. “Aren’t you forgetting something, little piggy?” Principal Sylvester asks, gesturing to the scales beside her.
The girl sighs and shakes her head, addressing the principal with a relaxed smile. “Principal Sylvester… Listen, I just got my wardrobe refreshed this week,” she explains, gesturing down to her clothes. “You see this fit? It’s all new. Cost me U$900 overall.” She proceeds to run her hands over the green and blue locks of her hair. “And the dye’s pretty expensive, too. I spent three and a half hours on my hair this morning to make sure all these colors looked right. I can’t ruin all of that rolling around in some mud!”
Principal Sylvester opens her mouth to speak, but the girl is a much quicker thinker—and talker. “On top of that, I have practice for the powderpuff game coming up tomorrow!” she continues, “I have very limited free time, and I’m making good use of it with some important extracurricular activities that I just cannot afford to miss!”
The girl proceeds to give Principal Sylvester a foolproof ‘puppy dog eyes and pout’ combo, standing there for a few seconds—until the principal lets out a resigned sigh. “You may go.”
“Thank you, Prinz! You’re a doll!”
Giggling, the girl continues on her way down the halls, leaving behind the annoyed Principal Sylvester. “How does she keep getting away with it?” she murmurs, disappointed at herself for falling for the same excuses again.
Finally, the girl reaches the auditorium, lighting up the stage with a smile as vibrant as her hair and outfit. “Hi, everyone! I’m Moira Lawson, pronouns she/her, and I wanted to let you know you guys killed it yesterday!” she says, “I’ll be singing All About That Bass by Meghan Trainor… And yes, I know that song aged like a banana, but it was the best one I could think of on such short notice, so please bear with me here, okay?”
She points and clicks her tongue at Nico, who’s onstage with a double bass in hand, given the signal to pluck the song’s opening chords on it.
♪ Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two
But I can shake it, shake it, like I'm supposed to do
If you got beauty, beauty, just raise 'em up
'Cause every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top
You know I won't be no stick-figure, silicone Barbie doll
So, if that's what you're into, then go ahead and move along
Because you know I'm all about that bass
'Bout that bass, no treble
I'm all about that bass, 'bout that bass, no treble
I'm all about that bass, 'bout that bass, no treble
I'm all about that bass, 'bout that bass, hey! ♪
In stark contrast to Rajesh and his more subdued audition, Moira has stage presence for days, dancing around the stage and maneuvering the microphone stand like Freddie Mercury—needless to say, she’s a shoo-in for Glee Club. Artie’s approval is enough to send her happily running off the stage and towards the other kids, high-fiving each of them.
Next is the blind girl, who makes sure to fold her walking stick and store it away before taking to the mic. “First of all, Mr. Abe, thank you for punching in the Braille translation in the sign-up form,” she states, gently wrapping her fingers around the silver cross pendant gently resting over her collarbone. “Very well… My name is Genesis Reeve, pronouns she/her. I’ll be singing Where I Belong, by Switchfoot.”
♪ Feeling like a refugee
Like it don't belong to me
The colors flash across the sky
This air feels strange to me
Feeling like a tragedy
I take a deep breath and close my eyes
One last time, one last time
Until I die I'll sing these songs
On the shores of Babylon
Still looking for a home
In a world where I belong
Where the weak are finally strong
Where the righteous right the wrongs
Still looking for a home
In a world where I belong ♪
All eyes are on Genesis as she belts with as much as her lungs can give, the Sparks left speechless by the power and warmth in her voice. Even though she’s so dainty, she’s packing proper gospel singer vocals, as if there’s a tiny Mercedes Jones taking up permanent residence in her vocal chords, waiting for the right time to unleash her talent onto the world.
The music fades out, allowing Genesis to catch her breath, and after a few seconds, Artie and the Sparks all launch into roaring applause—except for Yasmin, who is still stunned speechless. Up until that point, Yasmin had been confident she was the strongest vocalist of the Sparks, but now she had serious competition. “I’ll allow it,” she murmurs, sounding somewhat terrified. “As long as she doesn’t get every solo.”
“I heard that!” Genesis cuts in, still noticeably breathy. “Don’t worry, I have no intention to start any conflict. You’ll be fine.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” says Yasmin with a relieved sigh. “So I’m still the female lead then.”
Izzy and Danny turn to her with looks of befuddlement. “Hold up, when did that become a thing?” asks Danny, furrowing his brow, “I don’t think we ever discussed that.”
“In case you may have forgotten, I was spearheading the movement before you two came along, I have the most performance experience and the strongest vocals out of us four,” Yasmin brags, in a pace rapid enough to potentially land her a spokeswoman role in a future Micro Machines commercial. “And unlike some of us, I wouldn’t get the group accused of nepotism if I were to land the lead vocals in competitions, so it should be pretty clear that I am the most logical choice for female lead overall.”
Her words have Artie rolling his eyes with an amused smile. “Just try not to send anyone to a crackhouse, okay?” he addresses Yasmin, who nods and flips her hair in response.
Rounding out the auditionees is the androgynous kid who was drawing in secret during Spanish class on the first day. “I hope I’m not too late!” they state, “I’m Yael Rosenthal, pronouns they/them.” Their eyes dart back and forth across the Sparks, noticing the looks of realization on their faces. “I’m not much of a performer, but even nowadays there isn’t much space in this school for enby students, so I’ll take what I can get.”
Artie nods in approval, keeping in mind how much the world had changed since his final year as a student in McKinley—as far as he knew, there wasn’t a single nonbinary student back in his day. “Very well, what will you be singing for us?”
“Euphoria by Loreen,” Yael responds, “It won the Eurovision Song Contest in 2012, but I don’t think it’s particularly well-known here in the U.S., so I made sure to bring in the sheet music for the band so they know what to play.”
“Enlighten us, then.”
“Fine!”
♪ We are here
We're all alone in our own universe
We are free
Where everything's allowed and love comes first
Forever and ever together
We sail into infinity
We're higher and higher and higher
We're reaching for divinity
Euphoria, forever, 'til the end of time
From now on, only you and I
We're going u-u-u-u-u-u-up
Euphoria, an everlasting piece of art
A beating love within my heart
We're going u-u-u-u-u-u-up ♪
While more on the subdued side, Yael’s audition showcases a surprisingly wide vocal range, which, combined with their musical knowledge, lands them a spot in the club. With all four auditionees displaying an eclectic mix of strengths and song choices, four soon become eight in the choir room, and Artie watches proudly as the kids mingle with one another, laughing and launching into an impromptu song together—almost like the good old days.
Meanwhile, in the halls, Cedric steps out of the boys’ restroom with small cotton balls wedged into his nostrils, ignoring the bemused stares from the other students as he makes the trek to Anabiel’s office. He has to come prepared, for when he steps in, he’s met with a cornucopia of spirituality: vases with flowers and herbs, dreamcatchers, crystals, and the pungent smell of multiple incenses lit at once. “Cedric!” she calls out upon noticing him, making sure to pull up the chair opposite her desk.
Cedric looks around, sheepishly sitting down. “Ms. Stonecrop, no offense, but have you ever tried lighting just… one incense at a time?” he asks, “Just some food for thought!”
“Oh, forgive me, I just want to usher in as much positive energy as possible,” Anabiel explains, sitting opposite him and leaning in with a curious expression. “But do you have anything else to share? Perhaps, how you’re feeling about the homecoming game?”
Cedric shakes his head, slumping against his chair. “No, I’m pretty chill with that,” he explains, “It’s Glee Club that’s bothering me. I can’t get it out of my mind ever since I rescued that kid from being bullied. I don’t hate the idea of trying out, but I’m wary of how everyone else’s gonna react. Especially the other guys… You should’ve seen what they did to that boy, it was pretty nasty.”
“May I pull up your birth chart?”
Cedric’s gaze darts around in befuddlement. “If it helps…”
Anabiel hums to herself as she heads for a file cabinet, going through the first drawer and pulling out a particular file. Just as Emma Pillsbury had her pamphlets, Anabiel has all of the students’ birth charts readily accessible, as her preferred method of providing them guidance. Cedric watches as she lays down his birth chart, carefully analyzing it until something catches her eye. “Aha! Look at this!” she exclaims, “The Sun is transiting your natal 5th house of entertainment, and sextiling your natal Saturn! The time is right for you to relax and have fun, as this’ll help you find your purpose.”
There’s a glimmer of relief in Cedric’s eyes when Anabiel raises her head to face him. “So what you’re saying is…”
“Go for it!” she eagerly exclaims, “Grab that joy you need before it passes you by!”
Cedric grins as he gets back up, shaking Anabiel’s hand as if they just made a business deal. “Thanks, Ms. Stonecrop! You’re a lifesaver!” says the running back, just about to head for the door, only to be interrupted by a sudden whistle from Anabiel, who hands him an opal bracelet, which he takes with a thankful nod. As he leaves the office and puts the bracelet around his wrist, he notices a faint glimmer of sunlight reflecting from the crystals, which he takes as a sign of being on the right track. From the corner of his eye, he sees Terence with some of the other jocks, giving them a bras d’honneur before walking away from them, all the more certain in his choice regardless of whatever backlash he may inevitably face.
♪ Am I wrong
To think out of the box from where I stay?
Am I wrong
For saying that I'll choose another way?
I ain't trying to do what everybody else does
Just 'cause everybody's doing what they all do
If one thing I know, how far would I grow?
I'm walking down this road of mine, this road that I call home ♪
Cedric lets the memory of defending Nico from the other jocks marinate in his mind as he heads for the April Rhodes Civic Pavilion, his footsteps echoing in the deserted auditorium. Although he’s devoted to his team, he’s not guilty over his actions towards Nico. If caring for those in need, and for the arts, makes him wrong… Then he’s perfectly content not being right. If it harms his reputation, then he’ll gladly stand in the line of fire.
♪ So am I wrong
For thinking that we could be something for real?
Now am I wrong
For trying to reach the things that I can't see?
But that's just how I feel
That's just how I fe-e-e-e-eel
That's just how I feel
Trying to reach the things that I can't see ♪
So he croons, not even caring about the lack of a band to back him up—he’s got the music inside him, where it really matters. Time stops around him as he’s completely absorbed in the thoughts he so desperately wishes to let out. It’s just him, in an environment he’s not used to, but also one in which he knows his peers won’t judge him. Somehow, by standing there, away from the expectations and scrutiny of the rest of the student body… He feels truly free.
♪ If you tell me I'm wrong, wrong
I don't wanna be right, right
If you tell me I'm wrong, wrong
I don't wanna be right
So am I wrong
For thinking that we could be something for real?
Now am I wrong
For trying to reach the things that I can't see?
But that's just how I feel
Oh, that's just how I fe-e-e-e-eel
That's just how I feel
Trying to reach the things that I can't see
That's just how I feel… ♪
Cedric closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if releasing a colossal weight off his shoulders. He wasn’t expecting to get such a release from that, but the catharsis he gets from it is indescribable, just what he needed after a grueling practice day.
“You got some pipes in you, kid!”
Cedric jumps back as he notices Sam in the audience, clapping at him with a pleased look on his face. “Coach! I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here… I just wanted to let loose, that’s all,” he explains, doing his best to keep his composure. For a few seconds, he pauses, locking eyes with Sam—and then, he breaks the silence. “Do you think you could talk to Mr. Abe to see if he can find a spot for me in the Glee Club?”
Sam chuckles, tapping Cedric’s shoulder in approval. “Of course! I’ve actually been planning to bring that up to the rest of the team after the game,” he states, “Since Artie and I are so close and we haven’t seen each other in years, it’s only fair I get to make a contribution to his new adventure as Glee Club director. I’m sure he’s gonna love you.”
“Thanks, coach. I’m not gonna let you down.”
Sam squeezes Cedric’s shoulder and gives him a reassuring nod, before beginning to walk away. But then, a spark of realization strikes Cedric, and he stops his coach in his tracks. “Oh, one more thing!” he warns, “You might wanna do something about Terence. I saw him beating up one of the Glee kids in the hallway, it was pretty nasty.”
Cedric is met with disappointed tongue clicks from Sam. “Thanks for letting me know,” he responds, “I might have to bench him for the homecoming game. It’s him and Hugo that I've been keeping tabs on, they ought to control themselves. At least Hugo isn’t a complete bigot.”
With that, Sam leaves the auditorium, leaving Cedric to smile and take another look at the stage around him, eager to start performing on it with the rest of the Glee kids.
“So I was rewatching Ovation last night and…”
“No, really! It was right outside the door, with the spine sticking out!”
“All I remember was, like… Pink jelly…”
Whatever scattered conversations the Glee kids are engaging in are swiftly interrupted when Artie rolls into the choir room, grinning. “Good news, y’all!” he proclaims, “I got a text from Coach Evans last night—one of his boys wants in!”
The announcement is met with an array of excited reactions from the kids, most notably Nico and Yael. “Now, usually a potential new member would have to audition in front of the rest of the club,” Artie explains, “But Sam played me a recording of this kid singing, and that was more than enough to let me know he would be an asset. So please make sure to give a sparkling warm welcome to your newest member, Cedric Devine!”
Cedric enters the choir room to a rousing round of ecstatic cheers and applause from the other kids, with Nico in particular jolting out of his seat to hug him. “I knew you wouldn’t pass it up! Come on!”
A beaming Nico guides Cedric to one of the four remaining empty seats, allowing him to get a good look at everyone—with his gaze stopping on Yael. “Oh, hey, Yael,” he greets them, “I didn’t know you were in this.”
Yael quickly looks around before leaving their seat and taking the one next to Cedric, promptly addressing him. “Do you think you could get Hugo to join too?” they suggest, “I’ve been trying to convince him to do it all day, but he doesn’t seem too interested… And I confess having him around would make the experience even better.”
“Yeah, I noticed he’s not as mean-spirited about it as the others,” Cedric recalls, “It could be worth a shot. And even if he says no, I’ll make sure to look after you for him.”
As Cedric taps Yael on the shoulder and is greeted by the other kids, Artie wheels forward, watching and nodding in approval. “So from four members, we’re now up to ni… Eight?” he stops, confused. “Wait a minute—One, two, three, four, five, six… Where’s Moira?”
“She’s preparing for the powderpuff match today!” Danny chimes in, “How about we go there to cheer her on?”
And so they do, as later that day, they gather in the back of the crowd packed on the bleachers to watch the powderpuff lacrosse game, with snacks and foam hands and all the expected paraphernalia. Spirits are high as the match starts with the sharp sound of the referee’s whistle, and the sight of the McKinley girls fighting tooth and nail to score against the visiting team leaves the crowd appropriately exhilarated, backed by the chanting and pompom waving of the Cheerios—just the male ones this time, leaving Beverly to relax on the bleachers as the third wheel to the cuddling Candice and Hugo, while Kermit seizes the opportunity to show off why he was made Cheerios captain from the jump.
It proves to be surprisingly tense for a game that’s meant to be amicable, and for a moment, both teams are neck-and-neck. It’s then that Moira stops to catch her breath, and from the corner of her eye, she notices the euphoric support of the Glee Club, and is given a whole new boost of energy—she raises to her feet, grips her stick, swipes the ball away from one of the opposing players, and zips down the field like a rocket to score the winning points for McKinley.
The crowd rises to their feet with cheers and hollers, and Moira is mobbed by her teammates, all hugging and laughing with one another. Once she’s done celebrating with them, she sees the other Glee kids coming down from the bleachers towards her, and spares some time for them too, letting them pick her up and raise her, her cries of joy echoing to the highest of heavens.
A moment of joy for them… a nightmarish sight for Principal Sylvester.
“They’re making progress… Too much progress, far too quickly than I anticipated.”
Said progress has Principal Sylvester pacing back and forth around her office, unusually exasperated. “I didn’t think Wheels and his ratty little ‘stache would be of any help building up that collection of screeching, flaccid mouth-breathers,” she muses, taking her seat opposite Kitty. “But somehow it’s been drawing in all of the most pathetic kids, like moths to a flame of mediocrity. It’s bizarre.”
“Mediocre recognizes mediocre, easy as that,” Kitty responds, nonchalantly filing her nails. “It’s not like any of those kids have any real promise, so they might as well settle for whatever cheap afterschool special prattle is thrown their way by a misogynistic film bro who I’m sure will happily throw them out to the vultures once he finds a better opportunity to recklessly spread his germs around like week-old candy from a bludgeoned piñata.”
Principal Sylvester then adjusts her glasses and leans in closer. “See, this is where you come in,” she states firmly, “When I was coach, I let the Unholy Trinity join the Glee Club as my spies, to help destroy it from within—”
“Except they were indoctrinated with the earliest form of woke mind virus imaginable. Quinn at least turned out fine, not so much the lezzies.”
Principal Sylvester nods in resigned agreement. “But I trust you not to let your girls make that same mistake,” she continues, “If it hadn’t been for that pregnancy, it wouldn’t even have crossed my mind to expel you back in the day, because I’m smart enough to recognize a star player when I see one. At least you had the common sense of acknowledging the potential you could’ve squandered, and made up for lost time by returning to cheerleading immediately after spewing that crotch dumpling into the world. Ever since I hired you, you have not disappointed me once, and I can easily see you surpassing me one day.” Her tone turns hushed, as she finishes, “Consider this your ultimate trial by fire: don't allow yourself to soften again. Have I made myself clear?”
Kitty smirks, with a subtle nod of her head that gives her blonde bob just a little bit of bounce. “Don’t expect diminishing returns from me, coach,” she murmurs slyly, “I already have a couple names in mind that could work as spies, and you might be surprised to hear Kermit’s not one of them. That boy’s a star in the making, placing him in such a worthless side quest will only harm his track record. The further he stays away from the Island of Misfit Toys, the better.”
She leans forward, clutching Principal Sylvester’s hands in her and locking in her gaze with hers. “Swear it on the name of baby Jesus in his manger… This Kitty’s got her claws out for the long run now.”
Principal Sylvester smirks back in satisfaction. Moments like these come as a reminder of why she gave Kitty a second chance.
“Outstanding.”