Summer Break

by Sophia Lowell

  She looked to Carmine and Meredith, hoping that Kurt had filled them in on the song change. Rachel didn’t really think a medley of songs from Oklahoma! fit the occasion, so the switch was decided that morning. She’d chosen “In My Life” by the Beatles. It was a classic. And she was a classy girl.

  Carmine nodded at her, and the soft piano music began.

  Rachel sang the first verse. “There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed.” The Beatles’ lyrics were eerily appropriate for her current state of mind, even though she’d chosen them earlier.

  As she sang, Rachel scanned the audience for familiar faces. There were some that she recognized from having classes together or seeing in the hallways. Others were just kids who had once thrown slushies in her face. She recognized a few of the parents from events or chaperoning dances. It made her sad that the adults in her life were not present. She missed her dads. And she even missed goofy Mr. Schuester.

  Rachel joined in with the lead vocals as Meredith and Carmine began to sing a gorgeous harmony. A janitor near the door listened and began to sway with his mop.

  For some reason, Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off that janitor. He was so into the music. He looked an awful lot like… No. It couldn’t be. Sometimes staring out into a crowd played tricks on a person. It was easy to imagine seeing someone you wished was there.

  The song ended, and Rachel took a bow.

  seventeen

  McKinley High hallway, after the performance, Thursday afternoon

  After she was finished with her own song, Rachel didn’t feel it necessary to stick around and watch Santana’s scandalous pop performance. It was bound to be a spectacle, but Rachel just wasn’t in the mood. She’d watched as Santana had sashayed out onto the basketball court wearing an outfit that was basically nothing but a glorified bikini and cowboy boots. And judging by the cheers and hollers that were now exploding from the gym, she was probably shaking everything she had to a song that was originally written for Ke$ha. No, thanks.

  The beautiful song Rachel had just performed had put her in a sentimental mood. She even felt a little like crying. Rachel decided to go for a stroll around her favorite places at McKinley High one more time. It would be the perfect end to the “Rachel Berry Nostalgia Tour,” as Kurt had been calling their trip to Lima all week. Rachel traced her fingers along the wall as she walked along, as if she were trying to record the memory of the place with her touch.

  A little farther down the hall was the same janitor who had been digging on her song just a few minutes ago. It looked like he was grooving on something else now. Either in his mind or playing on an iPod—Rachel couldn’t tell which. His feet danced around as he gave his best effort to mop the grungy linoleum. It was a lost cause, though. The floor at McKinley never looked clean because of the constant slushie and raw egg attacks on those kids unfortunate enough to be at the bottom of the social ladder, or anyone who pissed off Dave Karofksy. Dirt stuck to egg whites like nobody’s business.

  “Hey!” Rachel called down at him, not even sure what she wanted to ask. She had this crazy urge to talk to him. “Hey! Wait!”

  The janitor glanced up at her, quickly put his head down, and tried to push his mop elsewhere. He wasn’t very fast. All it took were a couple of skips, and she was right next to him.

  Rachel laid her hand on the man’s shoulder. “Were you just dancing back there?” she asked as he turned around to face her. Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t been imagining things during her performance at all. The janitor was Mr. Schuester!

  But it was no wonder that people didn’t recognize him. He looked like a shadow of his former bubbly, Journey-singing self. His eyes were sunken in like he hadn’t slept in days, and his unruly curly hair had grown out and looked like an overgrown weed. It was as if Sue Sylvester’s nightmare had come to life.

  “Mr. Schuester? Is that really you?” Rachel asked, grateful to finally have found the missing piece of the puzzle.

  He nodded sadly. But Rachel didn’t understand why he was mopping floors in a jumpsuit instead of parading around the halls in a vest and talking about feelings.

  “What’s happened to you?” What was this, Good Will Schuester?

  “It’s a long story, Rachel. I don’t know if I want to go into it….” He plopped the mop back in his bucket. Water splashed out and nearly ruined Rachel’s shoes. She jumped back a few inches. “Your voice sounded beautiful in there. I’m very happy for you.” He sounded like he was truly happy for her. But he was still very depressed for himself.

  “Aw, come on Mr. Schu,” she begged. Rachel knew he’d always had a rough personal life. His divorce had broken his heart once—and then Miss Pillsbury, the guidance counselor, had broken it again right after that by marrying her dentist, Carl Howell. Maybe the hard times he’d fallen on had something to do with that. Love is rough. “Was it Miss Pillsbury?”

  “No, no.” He gazed straight into Rachel’s eyes. “If it had to do with anyone, I’d say it was actually you.”

  Oh no. Rachel didn’t want what Puck had implied about her and Mr. Schuester to be true. That would be so weird and inappropriate. She shuddered at the thought of it.

  “Nothing romantic, of course,” he added, reading the terrified expression on her face. He didn’t need to remind her of the Suzy Pepper moment. But Rachel’s crush on Mr. Schuester hadn’t bordered on obsession, like Suzy’s had.

  “No, I never thought that for a second. Not even a little bit. Why would you say that?” Rachel’s words spilled out faster than she’d intended.

  “Just a hunch,” Mr. Schuester said as he poured some more blue solution labeled kleen rite into his vat of dirty mop water. It looked the same. Rachel seriously doubted that it was going to do anything more than spread the dirt and germs around more evenly.

  “So are you going to tell me what really happened?” Rachel asked. “Or do I have to make you sing about it?” So Will Schuester liked to sing out his troubles—big deal. A lot of other people did it, too. Like B.B. King and Ray Charles. It was called the blues.

  “I’m sure you have figured this out by now, but a lot changed when you left, Rachel.” The way he leaned on his mop looked like he was about to start waltzing with it at any second.

  Rachel tried not to take this information as a compliment, but it was hard not to. It meant that she mattered.

  “After you landed that Broadway role and Santana got ‘discovered’ by that record producer in such quick succession, people started to notice. They thought the common thread was me and my brilliant teaching skills. My students were hitting it big left and right!” A smile danced on his lips and threatened to form, but never fully did. “So when you and Sue came to me about starting my own vocal training academy in New York… I jumped at the chance.” He looked off into the distance. “I’ve always loved singing. Why wouldn’t I want to give it a try in New York at least once?”

  “So I was the one who persuaded you to leave McKinley and New Directions?” Rachel wasn’t pleased with the news that she was to blame for all this. It just made her feel lower than she did already—which was pretty low. Mr. Schuester began to push the mop bucket as he walked down the hall. Rachel followed, eager to hear more.

  “Well, you and Sue together. You don’t remember?” He furrowed his brow, like he was worried that he was the one who’d started forgetting details about his life.

  Rachel shook her head. “Refresh me.”

  But Mr. Schuester looked like he was holding something back. “Well, I used all my savings to rent a studio in New York that I could live in and run voice classes out of. It was great for a while.”

  Rachel hung on to his every word. She’d completely forgotten that the rally was about to let out.

  They strolled for a little while in silence as Mr. Schuester gathered his thoughts. He stopped at a brown door marked maintenance. How funny. It was the exact same janitor’s closet Rachel was going to go do her warm-ups in earlier.

  �
�Then what?” Rachel prodded.

  He shot her a look that warned her not to push it. “One of the main selling points of my new academy was your endorsement. Not only did you refuse to give it, but you publicly denied having ever known me! You said that everything you knew you had taught yourself.” Mr. Schuester shook his head in pity. “It ruined me, Rachel. Everyone called me a fraud. No one would come to the academy anymore! I lost my studio. I lost everything.” He got out his gigantic ring of keys and unlocked the door. “Luckily, a kind stranger took pity on me and let me hitch a ride back to Lima. But I’ve basically been trying to pull myself out of the gutter ever since.” He sat down in an old, decomposing armchair. The acid-green color helped slightly in hiding the mold spots.

  Rachel didn’t think she could feel any worse. But then she saw the blankets rumpled up in the corner. “Mr. Schu—are you living here?” She was going to fix this. Mr. Schuester living in a janitor’s closet at McKinley High was totally unacceptable. He was her mentor, not a homeless janitor.

  Suddenly, Rachel flashed back to Monday night. She’d been leaving the mini-mart when a curly-haired man had startled her, saying he knew her. Rachel had accidentally slushied him! The man was Mr. Schuester! She looked down at him in his dirty chair and tan jumpsuit. The blue patch on his chest said will.

  “Principal Figgins said I could pick up some janitorial work on the side until I get on my feet again. There has been a problem lately with kids ‘buttering’ the floors, and they needed extra mopping help. Luckily they’d kept my uniform.” Mr. Schuester had worked briefly as a McKinley night janitor during Rachel’s sophomore year. He was just trying to earn extra cash then. Nothing like this. “Originally, he was going to let me run Glee Club. But, of course, there was no money in the budget to hire a teacher solely for that purpose. And the district wouldn’t allow a janitor to run it.” He smiled and let out a chuckle. “But with some luck, Figgins said he might be able to hire me to teach Spanish again next school year. So that’s good.”

  Rachel couldn’t believe Mr. Schuester’s ability to remain positive in a situation like this.

  “Mr. Schu, I can’t let you live like this. Especially if it’s my fault!” She bit her lip. “Please let me help you out.”

  He threw his hands up in protest. “I think I’ve had enough of your ‘help,’ Rachel.”

  People began to trickle out of the gym. Soon, the hallways would be packed. Rachel needed to duck and cover before she got mobbed.

  “I have to run. But please reconsider my offer. I’m so sorry, Mr. Schu.” And she really was.

  Rachel ran to the choir room as fast as her stilettos would take her. Too bad they couldn’t take her back in time.

  eighteen

  Lima Youth Center, Thursday afternoon

  The afternoon’s conversation with Mr. Schuester had left Rachel feeling like an absolutely deplorable person. It had been heart-wrenching to listen to his woes. He had been so unlucky, and she felt partially responsible for leading him down the garden path. Not that she remembered doing any of those things. But still, he had blamed her for his misfortune and then added insult to injury by not letting her make it right. She wanted to help him in his time of need. Mr. Schuester had done so much for her throughout the years. He’d done so much for everyone. There had to be a way to even the scales again.

  Rachel had returned to the choir room to gather some of her things right after seeing him. It was almost empty now except for a few stragglers—kids taking off the rest of their elaborate starfish costumes.

  Rachel’s monogrammed duffel bag with the gold stars on it sat right where she had left it in the corner. Rachel was thankful she had listened to Kurt about bringing a change of comfortable clothes with her. These glamorous ones didn’t feel like her at all anymore. Her feet ached, and she was tired of pulling down the back of her skirt when it rode up into scandalous territory. She just wanted to be plain old Rachel Berry again. Why was it, again, that she had never been happy with herself before? It was hard to remember.

  The clock on the wall read 3:30. Almost time to fly back to New York and spend every waking minute with those two pains known as Carmine Bennett and Meredith Stewart. Celebrity friends were not as cool as she’d thought they’d be.

  Rachel wondered where they had gone. They’d probably dashed the second their song was over and caught the first flight back to the city. But Rachel couldn’t really judge—she’d ditched everyone, too.

  She went behind her little sports blanket curtain and changed into the blue jeans and red tank top from her bag—and, of course, her favorite glittery red ballet flats. She must have had those things forever. They weren’t even expensive. She slid a thin white headband into her hair. That was better. It was like when Superman turned back into Clark Kent. He probably welcomed that nerdy suit and glasses after the stress of wearing spandex in front of huge crowds. Talk about pressure.

  It was hard to decide her next move. She’d lost Kurt—and he was the one who had all the answers. He’d done a great job of keeping her schedule and keeping her well dressed. She shouldn’t have been so harsh with him about the pictures. There were worse things in life than a leaked personal picture on a fan site dedicated to your hotness. Mr. Schuester was evidence of that.

  Several pairs of footsteps grew louder in the hallway. Laughter accompanied them. Rachel went to the door to see who was having so much fun. Rachel’s heart fluttered as she saw a beautiful thing—it was Kurt leading a pack of her old Glee friends! Brittany and Santana were there (doing that hand-holding thing they liked to do), followed by Quinn, Finn, and Puck. Several of the new Glee kids whom Rachel didn’t know took up the rear.

  Rachel ran out in front of them. “Hey, guys! Where are you going?” The scene felt totally normal. She was comfortable as an attention-hungry geek. The setting brought it out in her. Kurt looked her up and down, assessing the full transformation back to Glee Club Rachel.

  “If I hadn’t heard your song and dedication at the rally, I wouldn’t bother telling you,” Kurt said. “I’d think you wouldn’t want to come anyway. But you do appear to have a shred of a soul left.”

  Happiness radiated from Finn and Quinn—who kept gazing down at her ring finger when she thought no one was looking.

  “We’re going to the Lima Youth Center to sing with the kids. We go every Thursday,” Quinn said. She cocked her head. “Do you want to come?”

  Finn smiled hopefully.

  Did they really want her to go with them? Rachel wondered. It sounded kind of fun. And perhaps she could earn back some of that good karma she was so seriously lacking.

  Santana chimed in. “I called some photographers. It will totes make it into Superstar Weekly, if you are on the fence.” Santana was so predictable. “I mean, they’re no PS 22 Choir,” she said, referring to the famous elementary school choir from Staten Island in New York. “But they aren’t bad. They’re cute kids.”

  “It sounds great,” Rachel said, and actually meant it.

  Rachel went with them to the youth center, and she was so glad she did. Santana was right—the kids were fantastic singers. Rachel could hardly believe how much fun it was to listen to them sing and give them pointers. They were so motivated, too. Almost like tiny versions of herself! Her favorite was a little Japanese girl named Kiku—she had one of the prettiest voices she’d ever heard on a third grader who wasn’t even eight years old.

  At the end of their time together, the kids chose a song for everyone to sing together. Kiku’s older sister had put the song “Change” by Taylor Swift on her iPod, and Kiku was absolutely desperate for them to sing it. Kurt obliged, saying that Taylor Swift was one of his contemporary idols—her spunky country attitude and spot-on fashion sense made him feel like they were meant to be best friends and shopping partners. He set about giving each person parts to sing.

  After a few practice runs, the group went full out. Their voices joined together to make such a rich sound, and Rachel was in awe that kids so y
oung could pick up on something so fast. It made her feel like an idiot for being so closed-minded last summer about Mr. Schuester’s music camp. If it had been anything like today, it would have been more than enough to make her summer great. Oh, well, Rachel thought as they all said good-bye to the kids. What’s done is done.

  By the time Rachel and Kurt were finished saying good-bye to all the New Directions alumni, it was getting really late.

  “We have to hurry if we want to get back to New York tonight,” Kurt reminded Rachel. They quickly headed back to the school to pick up their stuff, which they’d left in the choir room.

  Rachel and Kurt sprinted through the hallways to the choir room. It felt just like The Breakfast Club. They had really cut things much too short, time-wise. The two of them huffed and puffed. But it was funny.

  Through deep breaths and laughter, Kurt yelled out, “Rachel… I’m… sorry!” He stopped and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He was surprisingly out of shape. “I’m sorry… about the pictures. I shouldn’t have done that,” he squeaked as they began to jog. They were almost there.

  “No… I am. I understand… why you did it!” Rachel yelled back, laughing. They both stopped and looked at each other.

  “Friends?” Rachel said.

  “Friends,” Kurt answered.

  They laughed together. Rachel was glad that was finally resolved! She leaned in for a hug, but something was really slippery. Rachel struggled to keep her balance but couldn’t because the floor was covered in butter! It was a classic McKinley High School prank that was normally reserved for substitute teachers. Janitor Schuester had missed a spot. Rachel slipped, falling right into Kurt. Smack!

  Their heads knocked together. Hard.

  And the last thing Rachel saw before passing out was one of her glittery ruby slippers flying through the air….

  nineteen

  Rachel’s bedroom, present day, Monday night