I PERSONALLY HATE fan fictions that have music in them, but this a Glee fan fiction so it must be done! I truly am sorry;-; I would never put lyrics in there if it wasn't Glee. T_T Please don't hate me.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned Glee, Kurt and Blaine would have NEVER split.
“Adam,” Tina whispers, leaning next to me. We were are in the choir room and it's in the middle of Glee Club. Quinn Fabray is singing a break up song, most likely gesturing to end of Fabson/Fuinn relationship.
“What is it?” I ask.
“W-Would you maybe...uh...like to go out this weekend? Just us?” She's looking at her hand, picking away her nail paint. I smile.
“Sure, Tina.” I say. She looks up at me, her eyes brighter than the sun.
“Really? You'll go somewhere?” She asks to reassure herself.
“I said I would,” I mutter. I hear her make a small “yeep” sound. I shake my head. I look to Quinn. Tears swell in her eyes. I'm not going to say I feel sorry for her, I personally ship Finchel, but the sad look in her eyes makes me want to hold her. I sigh in frustration. Tina gives me worried look, but I try my best to ignore her.
“That was nice, Quinn,” I hear my dad say. He looks at me. “Adam, I believe you have prepared a song for us?” I nod.
The song I'm about to sing, it's really special to me. It's a song that reminds me of my late mother, and I'm dying to sing it. Right as I stand up, Mrs. Sylvester walks into the choir room.
“Adam Schuester, Figgins' office. NOW!” The tall Ellen storms out of the room. My dad looks at me suspiciously before motioning for us to go.
“Mr. Schuester- I mean, smaller Mr. Schuester. It has come to my attention that yesterday, at exactly 2 P.M. Central Pacific Time, you and your fellow classmate, Rick the Stick, had filled Sue's confetti shooter with ketchup.” Principle Figgins says. My Dad face palms as Rick and I bro fist.
Sue Sylvester was glaring at us hard. I looked away from her death glare. I wasn't like Finn Hudson. I couldn't stare into her eyes and talk back. I couldn't do anything Finn could...
“You want to tell us why you did that, Strange weepy man child's child?” Sue asks, her voice filled with calm venom.
“Well, Mrs. Sylvester, the reason is quite clear. We felt like it.” I say. Rick glances nervously at me.
“Now wait, bro-” He starts, but Sue cuts him off.
“What did you just say?” She asks, her voice getting calmer. The venom getting stronger.
“I said, and I quote, 'We. Felt. Like. It.'” I see my dad shaking his head in disappointment. He catches me looking at him, so I sit up straighter. “S-Sorry, Dad,” I mutter.
“You shouldn't be apologizing to me, Adam.” My dad states. He looks away. I roll my eyes.
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Sylvester. I'll never fill your confetti machine with ketchup again.” Most likely with mayonnaise. Sue just continues to glare at me after I apologize.
“Sorry doesn't cut it, little man with weirdly natural curly hair. Figgins, I demand he be suspended.”Sue says.
“Now, Sue. It was just a prank!” My dad says, standing up.
“Either he gets suspended, or you pay for another machine, Gel Head.”
“I have to agree, Will Schuester. Your son, along with Mr. Rick, is suspended for a week. The boys also have to clean the machine tomorrow morning at exactly 10 A.M.” Figgins says. My dad nods. Rick and I both groan.
