yellow sam evans

02 britney/brittany

In typical Will Schuester fashion, he made today's lesson about someone no one really cared about—or, at least, someone the New Directions members had never heard of. The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead as Mr. Schue stood in front of the whiteboard, his marker already squeaking out that week's topic.

"Can anyone tell me who Christopher Cross is?" he asked, a hopefulness in his voice like he was expecting a lightbulb moment from at least one of them. Beatrice slouched lower in her chair, already planning to use the period as an opportunity to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

The room was silent for a moment, everyone either zoning out or too confused to respond. And then, from the back, came Brittany Pierce's enthusiastic voice. "He discovered America!" she declared confidently, her eyes wide like she'd just nailed a question on Jeopardy.

Bee couldn't help but stifle a laugh. She turned her head to the side and shot Brittany a thumbs-up, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Nice try, Brit," she whispered, though it was loud enough for the people around her to hear.

Mr. Schuester, however, took it all in stride. "Close," he said with a strained smile, trying to keep the energy up. "Christopher Cross wrote a song called 'Sailing,' which was a huge hit in the 80s." He waved his hands in a jazz-hands gesture, trying to inject enthusiasm into a topic no one seemed to care about. The students exchanged bored glances, the room practically vibrating with disinterest.

Bee yawned, her eyes darting over to Kurt Hummel, who sat two seats away. She caught his eye and, with a subtle cough, signaled him to start their planned discussion. Kurt, ever the performer, gave her a tiny nod, sitting up straighter with the air of someone about to deliver a groundbreaking speech.

The two of them had spent the past week orchestrating a coup of sorts. They'd started an online forum specifically dedicated to their cause: convincing Mr. Schue to let them have a Britney Spears week. The forum was filled with passionate posts and polls, and they'd managed to get most of their fellow Glee Club members on board. If Mr. Schue insisted on teaching them about forgotten pop icons like Christopher Cross, why not let them explore a pop legend everyone actually cared about?

Kurt raised his hand, his tone bright and oh-so-innocent. ""Mr. Shue, if I may? I think I speak for all of us when I say it's not that we don't love the idea of spending a week on this silky smooth Adult Contemporary. It's just that, as teens, this isn't the easiest music for us to relate to. However, there is a burgeoning Facebook campaign that has swelled to over five members. The ardent demand? This week at the fall homecoming assembly the McKinley High School Glee Club performs a number by...wait for it...Ms. Britney Spears."

Several heads perked up at the mention of Britney. Bee couldn't help but smile as the room seemed to come alive, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. This was what she lived for—the thrill of rallying people behind a common cause, especially when that cause involved pop music. She turned to Santana, who was already nodding along, clearly interested.

Mr. Schue paused, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. "Well, I—"

Bee leaned forward, her energy infectious as she joined in. "I mean, come on, Mr. Schue! Britney Spears is, like, the epitome of pop music. She's got everything—great songs, killer performances, and she's a total icon. I'm pretty sure we'd all rather do a week on her than... 'Sailing,'" she added, rolling her eyes playfully.

A ripple of laughter moved through the room, and Mr. Schue looked like he was about to relent.

Despite her dreams of Broadway and Hollywood, Bee had an undeniable soft spot for pop music. There was something so joyful and unpretentious about it. The campiness, the glitter, the unapologetic enthusiasm—it made her feel alive. Britney was more than just an artist to her; she was a symbol of carefree childhood days spent dancing around the living room with her older sister Luna. They used to sing along to "Baby One More Time" on their old CD player, hairbrushes in hand, imagining they were on stage in front of a roaring crowd.