Teenage Dream 》 Glee

Smooth Criminal

I was pacing back and forth while the Glee club waited for Kurt. I can't believe Sebastian would do something like this. I hope Blaine's ok. I looked up when Kurt entered the room and by the look on his face it isn't good.

"How is he? Is he okay?" Rachel asked.

"Uh, it's his right eye. Uh, the doctor says that his cornea is deeply scratched and he has to have surgery." Kurt said. Oh, my god.

Mr. Shue shook his head, "In all my years as a teacher and a student, I have never known a slushee to do that kind of damage."

"That's 'cause it wasn't a normal slushee, Mr. Shue. There was stuff in it...rocks or something," Finn explained.

I couldn't meet their gaze. "He wanted to do that damage," I mumbled. "Blaine wasn't his target, but he wanted to do it." I'm such an idiot.

"Well, unless you have proof that he tampered with the slushee the police aren't interested in getting involved," Mr. Shue said.

"Sebastian is evil." Kurt cried. "He needs to be expelled." He looked at me. "Maze, can't your mom do something?"

I shook my head and lied. "I already talked to her. She can't do anything about it unless we have some sort of evidence. Like the slushee, Sebastian's confession, the security tape from the parking lot. Anything to pinpoint him."

I know I shouldn't have lied, but my mom adores Sebastian. If she found out about this, she's going to be crushed. And even if Sebastian did it, part of me doesn't want to see him get arrested. What he did is terrible, but part of me would feel guilty if anything happens to him. Ugh, I hate that side of me.

"Look, Figgins and I spoke to Dalton's headmaster. They're opening up an investigation." Mr. Shue gestured to all of us. "So, guys, I'm telling you, please let the system handle this one."

Artie gave him a look. "No. Dalton's old-school, Mr. Shue - they're not gonna turn their backs on one of their own - we need payback."

"An eye for an eye," Mike piped up.

"No. I have a zero-tolerance policy for violence, of any kind. That's not how we do things," Mr. Shue said.

"No, we sing, and that's all we ever do," Artie argued.

Mr. Shue raised his arms, "Do you want to get disqualified from Regionals?"

"I don't give a damn about Regionals." I gave Artie a wide-eyed look. I have never heard him snap like that before. "What do you expect from us? We're people. I know the rest of the world may not see us like that, but when they tease us and throw stuff at us and toss us in dumpsters and tell us that we're nothing but losers with stupid dreams, it freaking hurts. And we're supposed to turn the other cheek and be the bigger man by telling ourselves that those dreams and how hard we work make us better than them, but it gets pretty damn hard to feel that way when they always get to win."

"I get how upsetting this is for you."

"No, you don't, and don't give me any of that 'it gets better' crap because I'm not interested in it getting any better. I want it to be better, like, right now. I want to hurt them the way they hurt us. No, worse. I want them to feel my pain because frankly that's all I have left to give."

Mr. Shue took a deep breath. "Artie, take a break. We'll be here when you get back." Artie kept glaring at him. I thought he was going to punch Mr. Shue with the look he was giving him. "Artie? Artie."

Artie just shook his head. "I think I better roll away."

He spun his chair around and left.

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