The Evolution of Reese Lavek ♔ GLEE S1

31- The Jock with the Mohawk

That night, I was doing the usual homework, trying to think about a good song to perform with Puck. Besides, that, I decided I would try to do something nice for Quinn and Finn -- well, Finn more then Quinn. I knew how expensive baby clothes were, and my aunt always told me how after two months, the onsesies for her twins no longer fit and she had to buy new ones. So, with a little bit of research, I was trying to figure out how to make stretchable, one-size-fits-all onesies. 

But even before I could do that, I had to figure out how to fix this sewing machine. I picked it up from Ryan's mom this passed weekend, and now I was sitting in the basement, trying to tinker it back to life. If only I could find the right instruction manual online. 

I don't know how long I was down there for, probably hours. But I was only pulled away from my thoughts when I heard the patter of feet come down the s5airs, and Charlotte called my name.

"Reese? Are you hungry?" she asked. I turned around in my wheely chair and nodded.

"Sure, I could eat. What're we having?" I said.

"Well, Ryan has to come back from the diner, but he's going to bring home some food for us. You up for a Cobb salad?" she asked.

"Sure, that's fine," I replied, then I turned back to my work. 

"What are you doing?" she asked as she came over, "This doesn't look like Spanish homework,"

"It's not," I replied, "All this baby drama is spreading to us, and nobody can concentrate. So, I just thought I'd try to revive Grandma Lavek's old sewing machine back to life and make them some baby clothes," 

"That's really sweet of you, Reese," she smiled.

"I thought so, too," I replied, "... I hate it,"

"Then why are you doing it?" she asked.

"Because -- I can't stand to see a grown man cry,"

So, I ended up spending a majority of my night down in the basement, not bothering at all with my homework and trying to fix the sewing machine. These things were more complicated then they looked. It took several screw driver ends, balls of knots in my spools, a few cuts from the needle on my hands, and only one time wanting to throw the damn thing out the window. It was around 11:30 by the time I thought I was finished with the damn thing. I took a piece of scrap cloth and put it through the feeder, and to my surprise -- and utter joy -- I had perfect stitches coming out the other end!

Maybe I wouldn't hate this too much?

---

The next day, I was ready to start -- more like drag out -- a ballad practice with Puck. It was almost ludicrous to me; I mean, how did anybody think that pairing me up with Noah Puckerman would do any good for anybody? If anything, it just meant that we'd both end up in the hospital: I'd break his nose, and the sheer force of slamming my fist against his thick skull would probably shatter my knuckles.

I was still worried about Rachel. This morning in computer class, while we were supposed to be creating schematics to keep eggs safe from falling at great heights, I was Googling how to talk your friend out of being with her teacher. Needless to say, I got a lot of results on law firms, news scandals, and pornos. Right now, I was on the phone with Artie, while he was trying to explain to me how we were going to build an egg-cracking-proof cushion together. 

"In the basement? No way the janitor's going to let us in there... do I look I hooker to you, Abrahams? What about a hardware store, wouldn't they sell five inch pipes? ... So then get a six inch pipe!" I walked into the choir room, where Puck was waiting anxiously for me, "How wide is an egg's waist anyway? ... I know eggs don't have waists, you know what I mean,"