Free Glee: The Beginning by Sophia Lowell Page B

West Side Story for inspiration . They had run throug h the routine half a doze n times before Artie wheele d over to the side of the room.
    ‘What are you doing?’ Rachel demanded. She had on a white puff-sleeved button-down under a wool herringbone jumpe r, but she still managed to move with as much energy as a professional dance r, or at least a Cheerio during one of 79
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    Coach Sylvester’s ‘elimination’ practices. ‘We haven ’t nailed the footwork yet.’
    ‘You don ’t want to see me dehydrate.’ Artie pulled a bottle of water from his backpack and took a swig. ‘It’s not prett y.’
    ‘I’m with Artie. I think we could all use a break,’ Mercedes admitted, throwing herself down on one of the plastic chairs.
    ‘My bones are not used to working this hard.’
    ‘I’m starting to work up a sweat.’ Kurt touched the back of his hand to his forehead. ‘And I can ’t pull off the sweaty look.’ He grabbed a folder and fanned his face.
    ‘Y-y-yeah, Rachel,’ Tina said. ‘We’re tired. Plus, I’ve got homework to do for tomorro w.’
    Rachel clenched her fists at her sides in frustration. Two days. They had only two days to perfect their routine, and it wasn ’t there yet. They were good, but not great. If they wanted to impress the whole school, they didn ’t have time for palt ry things like water breaks. She’d heard that when Madonna was getting ready to go on tou r, she’d practice for eighteen hours straight without even taking a pee break. Still, Artie was in a wheelchai r. Maybe she needed to give him a break. But was it too much to ask that the rest of them
    – with two working legs – work a little harder? Pick your battles , she thought. She sighed and sat down on the piano bench. ‘Five minutes.’
    Mercedes leaned back in her chai r. ‘I’m not going to prac-tice,’ she sang, improvising. ‘I said no, no, no.’ The others, except Rachel, laughed.
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    ‘Have you all seen the Lady Gaga video for “Just Dance”?
    I love it.’ Tina took a sip from her Diet Coke bottle.
    ‘She’s Eurotrashtastic in that. It looks like an American Apparel comme rcial.’ Kurt loved American Apparel, but the closest one was in Dayton, an hour ’s drive away. He went there once a month to stock up on tight-fitting T-shirts, knee-length cardigans, and whatever came in turquoise. Tina sang a few lines from the song, her platform Mary Janes sliding across the linoleum tiles. Her black-and-red plaid skirt, the flaps held together by five giant metal safety pins, flared out as she moved.
    ‘Damn, girl.’ Me rcedes started humming the backup part.
    ‘You’re feeling the Lady Gaga toda y.’
    ‘ What ’ s goin ’ on, on the floor? ’
    ‘Tina, what else have you been hiding from us?’ Kurt raised his eyebrows as eve ryone watched her in amazement. Rachel rolled her eyes. Sure, she was happy Tina was coming out of her shell. Maybe singing would give her enough confi - dence to ove rcome her stutte r. But that didn ’t mean Rachel wanted to see Tina steal the show away from her.
    ‘You should save those moves for next Friday night,’
    Rachel blurted out. ‘You don ’t want to use them all up on us now.’ The others exchanged glances. ‘What’s next Friday night?’
    Artie asked cautiousl y.
    ‘Um, just the homecoming dance?’ Rachel’s eyes widened.
    ‘We can all celebrate our dazzling recital performance at the dance next week.’
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    ‘How would we do that if we’re not th-th-there?’
    Tina
    flopped down into one of the plastic chairs and took a giant sip of wate r. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She didn ’t agree with the Andy Warho l saying tha t eve ryon e gets fifteen minutes of fame. It was a little too egalitarian. She’d prefer it to be based on ability instead.
    ‘You’re not going?’ Rachel had always dreamed about going to high school dances. She’d