Hey guys! Figured it was about time I came out of hiding and posted the latest chapter. Hope you like it...

References from last chapter: Enchanted & Wicked (What Is this Feeling). To those who caught them, well done :)

As always, thanks so much for the reviews, alerts, messages and emails. They've meant a lot.

A/N: A lot of people seemed worried that Shelby was going to walk out on Rachel last chapter. And that really bothered me for some reason. So I'm going to say it now for everyone to see: At no point in time will Shelby be abandoning Rachel. She's in it for the long haul, guys :)

From Chapter 8:

"M-m-mom?"

I barely hear my daughter as I am now intently focused on the worthless piece of scum I'm currently holding prisoner. Actually I hardly even acknowledge her return. Eventually it takes Rachel reaching out for my free hand and squeezing it lightly to bring me back from the proverbial edge. Shaking my head slightly, I clear my head of the haze that had otherwise overcome my current state of mind and I look to my daughter.

"C-can we go now? Please?" I can see the unshed tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and with a resolute nod amend my mission to get her out of here. I don't know why, but something about the faintness of her tone, coupled with the way she's holding my hand makes Rachel seem so much younger than her fifteen years in my eyes.

It's only due to the pleading look she's giving me that I release my firm, death grip on Dustin's hand. But not before digging my nails in. A hint of pleasure coursing through me when I notice the angry red marks I've left behind.

"Sure, Baby." I turn away from Dustin and wrap an arm around Rachel, pulling her into my side as we start the walk down the hall and to the parking lot. We've reached the front door and I'm just about to push down on the lever to release the locking mechanism, when Dustin calls out my name. I turn back, and fix him with my most cold and unwavering glare.

"This isn't over, Shelby."

I release a low, dark laugh at his supposed threat. "Far from it, Goolsby," I mutter, before leading my daughter out of Carmel. As we settle into my car and I start up the engine, I find myself considering Dustin's words as I absently clasp my daughter's hand offering whatever comfort I can.

This isn't over, Shelby.

Clenching my jaw, I tightly grip the steering wheel as I pull out of the parking lot, while considering his rather bold statement. Damn right it isn't over, I silently concur.

Because no one lays a hand on my kid and gets away with it.

"Every single day, I walk down the street, I hear people say…"

The sudden, increasing melody startles me out of my slumber and causes me to lurch forward and look around the room wildly.

What the hell?

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I soon recognize the familiar green walls, the various photographs scattered throughout and the gold star curtains hanging above the windows. Having finally come to my senses, I realize that I am indeed in my daughter's bedroom and the racket I'd previously heard was only the latest ringtone Rachel had downloaded onto my cell phone. And from the sound of it, it's still buried in my purse which is sitting on Rachel's vanity table.

With a sigh, I move to slip out of the bed so I may retrieve my phone, but find myself unable to do so due to some dead weight that is currently pinning down my legs. A quick glance and a small smile slowly finds its way across my lips.

After having settled down in Rachel's bedroom upon our arrival, it came as no surprise that we soon fell asleep. Initially we had both been on opposite sides of the bed, with Rachel lying curled up on her side and me resting my back against the headboard as I watched her sleep. But sometime in between then, my daughter, being the restless sleeper she is, moved. She is now currently lying curled up next to me, with most of her upper body resting in my lap. And despite being fast asleep, the arm she has thrown across my legs has a very tight grip on my sweatpants.

So this is what Bass feels like, I think jokingly as I recall my daughter's favorite teddy bear.

I hear my phone going off once again and reason that I should probably extract it from my purse and see who's calling me. There's just one little problem. In order to do so, I'm going to have to get out of bed. And I'm not too sure I'm skilled, or even agile, enough to do that.

But that doesn't mean I can't try. So, with a determined breath, I can do nothing but hope that I am successful in my attempts to escape from the bed without waking my sleeping child.

Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

I mentally repeat the mantra as I carefully lift Rachel's arm in order to slip from underneath her. However it would seem that in spite of her unconscious state, my daughter still gets what she wants because as I move, so does Rachel, as she clings even tighter to me, halting my movements.

I soon release an annoyed breath after having tried again several times over, only to have Rachel thwart my every attempt.

"Rachel," I groan, with a hint of frustration. "C'mon, Honey. Let go."

"No," she argues sleepily, yet defiantly. "My Tony."

I chuckle and shake my head. Even in her sleep my daughter never fails to surprise me. Resting my back against the headboard once again, I look around for some sort of clue as to how I could possibly get out of my child's death grip. My eyes eventually fall on a nearby pillow. Grabbing hold of it, I deftly wedge it between Rachel and myself, with hopes that she'll cling to my substitute and thus give me the exit I need. Fortunately, she does and I'm finally allowed to slip out of bed. I slowly tiptoe across the room to the vanity and withdraw my phone from the bottom of my purse before heading out the door. One last look back, I see that Rachel is still asleep, so I pull the door shut behind me.

As I creep down the stairs, I disregard the notifications of several missed calls with the thought that I'll just check the list later. Instead, I examine my phone for the time. It's a quarter to seven. Meaning I've been asleep for a good two hours and Rachel for nearly three. I realize that such a long nap may interfere with her usual sleeping schedule, but I'm willing to overlook that minor detail if it will offer me extra time to get over what the hell happened today.

While the incident at Carmel occurred well over four hours ago, the entire encounter remains fresh in my mind. The words that were said, the things that were done and most importantly the emotions I felt. And if I'm not mistaken, there is still some residual anger lingering within me as I attempt to stretch out several tense muscles in my neck and back.

Suddenly feeling thirsty, I make a quick stop in the kitchen before wandering into the living room. Settling back into the couch, I tilt my newly acquired water bottle to my mouth and take a generous sip. Thinking back, I'm not too sure just where the sudden fierceness, strength and overwhelming need to defend Rachel came from. I mean, I'd always heard of a mother's innate need to protect her young. In people and wildlife alike. But, I'd certainly never experienced it.

At least not until today.

With a deep sigh, I rest my head against the back of the couch and set my eyes to the ceiling so I may at least attempt to understand just what came over me today. Everything had been going fine. I was alright with listening to Dustin rant and whine about me. I was even content to sit there and let him insult me. But the moment he touched Rachel, I just…I don't know. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped within me and I couldn't control myself.

I mean, there had actually been a moment, as I'd watched Dustin take hold of Rachel, that I was pretty sure I was going to kill him. For no other reason than that he made my daughter cry. Everything in me was screaming to hurt him, the same way he was hurting Rachel. After that, I was running on nothing but pure adrenaline and untainted rage.

And that's unusual. Especially for me.

Because rarely do I let my emotions get the best of me.

As I close my eyes, I'm once again reminded of the look I'd witnessed in my daughter's own eyes. Before, during and after the incident. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget the absolute look of panic and distress in Rachel's eyes. No matter how hard I try. Though, I can certainly do my damnedest to be sure I never have to see it again.

But prior to Dustin's blatant mistake, a mistake that I am more than willing to blame on a lapse of sanity on his part, I had seen the fire in Rachel's eyes. She was angry for being wrongly accused and I can understand why. She hadn't come to Carmel looking for trouble. She had come looking for me.

But why?

Soon enough my question brings about two more and those questions raise even more. Within minutes, I find myself with nearly two dozen questions that I have absolutely no answers to. But rather than bring about an unnecessary migraine, I opt to push the questions aside because there's clearly nothing I can do about them until Rachel wakes up. And seeing as I have no intention of waking her prematurely, I will simply have to wait.

As I'm going over everything yet again, I'm brought out of my thoughts by the ringing of the house phone. Another deep breath and I reach forward, grabbing the cordless handset from its place on the coffee table, before I lift it to my eyes so I may see who is calling.

It's the Berrys' house line.

"Dammit." After I'd brought Rachel here, I hadn't thought to call her dads. Truthfully, notifying them of anything had not even made it onto my to-do list. My primary concern had been to calm Rachel, as well as myself, down.

But now, now, I'm almost afraid to answer the call. Mainly because I've developed such a warm relationship with Hiram and Leroy. And should they hear about what happened today, that very relationship may become tarnished. After all, who knows how they will react. What they might do.

Taking a quick, calming breath, I accept the call and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

Oh thank god! Shelby. You haven't seen Rachel, have you? I hear both Hiram and Leroy say eagerly.

"Actually—"

She was supposed to call us the minute she got home after glee today, but we assumed that she just forgot. But then when Hiram got home, he said it looked like she hadn't as yet arrived. So we've been calling her cell phone to no avail and—

This really isn't like her," Hiram says, interrupting his partner's own harried ramblings. "We've called her dance studio, the music store, and the school. We were just about to call the police when Leroy suggested we should call you. But we were worried we may have been interrupting your practice since you weren't answering our previous calls. Then I remembered that you don't practice today, so we thought we'd try the house line. We were just so worried and…

A feel a sudden weight bear down on my shoulders as I listen to both men reason as to why they haven't heard from Rachel and the guilt seems to get even heavier as I hear Hiram's tone become even more anxious. So it's with a heavy heart and a guilt-ridden conscience that I quietly interject. "Guys, Rachel's fine."

How do you know that? I mean, how can you be sure?

Has she been in contact with you?

I expel a deep breath and continue. "I know because…well, because she's with me."

She is? Is the collective response that echoes through the handset. Why? Did something happen at school?

I would really rather not discuss this over the phone and I tell the both of them such. If I'm going to explain just what happened today, I'd prefer it to be a bit more personal than through a telephone call.

Although, I have a very strong feeling I may very well regret my decision when they eventually get here. But it's too late now, as both men have already agreed to be here within the hour. I end the call, setting the phone on the coffee table before me, and then sit back to figure out just how I plan to go about telling Hiram and Leroy the story of how I managed to get their daughter hustled by a member of the Carmel faculty.

And just like the sex talk I've recently had with my daughter, this is one conversation I'm certainly not looking forward to.

As I'm reaching for my bottled water again, the doorbell rings. I sit up slowly and check the time. I literally just got off the phone with Leroy and Hiram, so how could they possibly have gotten here so quickly? It's at least a thirty minute drive from their house to mine. And that's without traffic.

Puzzled beyond measure, I stand to quickly answer the door, if only to stop the incessant ringing that would no doubt wake Rachel. I forgo looking to see who it is, in favor of quickly undoing the locks and opening the door. "Nate?

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

It's only then that I look down to examine my cell phone and see that besides the two missed calls from Rachel's dads that there are also at least a dozen missed calls from Nate. "I-I've been asleep. What are you—"

"I came over as soon as I could." Without any invitation, I then watch as he breezes past me and into my home. "Where's Rachel?"

I shut the door and resume staring at him curiously. "Am I missing something?" I'm then surprised when I see him frown and practically glare at me.

"Don't play dumb, Shelby. It's not your style and you were never any good at it." I continue to stare at him because now I'm beyond confused. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry before. Well, maybe once, but that was for a completely different matter. I'm about to ask him about it when he apparently notices my confusion and I watch his features soften. "You really need to learn to hang up your phone if you're done talking."

My eyes widen as I realize what Nate's getting at. "You heard?"

He nods. "Yeah, I heard," he confirms, taking a step towards me. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I say with a shrug.

"And Rachel?"

At the mention of my daughter, I look towards the stairs, hoping beyond hope that she is still fast asleep. I then proceed to glance over at her bedroom door, at which point I notice that it's slightly ajar. That's odd, I surmise because I'm pretty sure I'd pulled it closed when I'd decided to come downstairs earlier. Somewhat leery that Rachel may awaken, I turn back to Nate and indicate for him to follow me into the kitchen so as to continue our conversation.

"She was pretty shaken up, but…I got her to calm down," I answer quietly, wrapping my arms about myself.

Feeling somewhat restless, I begin to pace as I fill him in on the details he may have missed out on and then proceed to answer the few questions he has. Afterwards, at Nate's insistence, I cease my pacing and join him by the kitchen island. Taking up a position opposite his own, I mirror his stance by crossing my arms and resting my hip against the nearby counter, but I continue to keep my eyes somewhat averted. "She's just a kid, Nate. She didn't deserve this."

"Yeah, well, neither did you," he adds, offering me a comforting smile that actually succeeds in making me feel slightly better. "Is it safe to assume you took care of Dustin?"

I smile then and fully raise my eyes from the tiled floor. "What do you think?"

Nate chuckles. "Hey, just making sure," he says with a smile. "Thought maybe you might've gone soft since high school." I shoot him an incredulous look that causes him to laugh a little harder. He soon calms down and looks back to me. "So, what did Rachel's dads say?"

My smile falls away at his inquiry. Then in further response, my gaze shifts to the floor as I absently begin picking at the nonexistent pieces of lint on the sleeves of my shirt.

"Shel? What did they say?"

"Nothing." Once I've finally answered, I sneak a glance at Nate and see that he's shooting me a look that is somewhat akin to the one I give to Rachel when I know she's hiding something. And like my daughter, I quickly succumb to it and resettle my gaze onto the floor. "Well, I, uh, haven't exactly told them yet, actually," I mumble uncomfortably. "They're on their way over here now so I can—"

"Wait...you mean you didn't call them right after the fact?"

I fix him with a glare. After the hell I've been through today, the last thing I need is for someone to actually admonish me for what happened. With the mountain load of blame I've already placed on myself, there's certainly no reason for anyone to assist me by adding to my guilt. "I had other things on my mind, Nathaniel," I retort bitterly, bristling at his tone. I watch Nate raise his hands in surrender and I instantly feel bad for taking my frustrations out on him. "Sorry."

He nods, seemingly accepting my apology.

The next few minutes we simply spend in silence. As the time goes by, I've returned my gaze to the ground but I can feel Nate's eyes wandering over me. I even hear him make several attempts to speak up, but all that becomes of them are deep sighs. Leaving me to think again on how I plan on telling Rachel's fathers what happened.

Like the situation back at Carmel, this one can also have a rather explosive outcome. Considering what Rachel has been put through already, in addition to what I have to tell her dads, Hiram and Leroy may become hesitant about Rachel and my relationship. Because clearly any association with me is not all it's cracked up to be. Especially for such a fragile teenager, like Rachel. I mean last year she was bullied by a group of my students. And today, she was manhandled by my co-coach!

Honestly…if I were Rachel's legal guardian, I wouldn't want her anywhere near someone like me!

Feeling a familiar burning sensation behind my eyes, I blink rapidly in hopes of keeping the tears that will most likely fall at some point tonight, at bay. What if Hiram and Leroy limit my visits with Rachel because of this? Or what if they request that we place some distance between us?

Or worse...

What if they prevent me from seeing her at all after today?

"Shel?"

I ignore Nate's attempts to get my attention, as my mind has become more focused on my daughter. My babygirl. My Rachel. I can't lose her now. Especially since we've just gotten to know each other so well. We're in such a good place right now and to have that taken away from me on top of everything I've already lost in these past few weeks seems almost cruel.

But I don't really have much of choice, do I? The contract I'd signed prior to Rachel's birth basically dictates that.

Why did I ever sign that damn contract? Why did I just walk away all those years ago? Why—

"Shelby."

At the mention of my name, I break my train of thought and notice that Nate has moved to my side. He then attempts to angle his head to try looking into my eyes. A task that I make even more difficult as I repeatedly move my head so he can't witness the tears that are forming.

"Clearly you're not as 'fine' as you claim to be," he suggests carefully, as he rests a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine, just tired." I blink away the tears before looking up at Nate and the disbelief in his eyes causes me to look away again. "I'm fine, Nate." Before I can assure him any further, however, Nate has enveloped me in a hug. Moments later, the tears begin to gather again. And no sooner after he has wrapped his arms a little tighter around my waist, I find that those very tears are rolling down my cheeks and I'm fighting some moderately heavy sobs. I then bite my lip because the last thing I need to do is lose my composure.

Unfortunately, Nate doesn't think so as he then tells me to "let it all out."

As he hugs me even closer, I can do nothing but. Unable to contain everything that I have been harboring since earlier this afternoon any longer, I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my face into his shoulder and allow the riptide of emotions to tear through me, thankful that Nate's got a steady grip around me because I'm sure I probably would've collapsed had he not.

Thoughts of Rachel, Hiram and Leroy and even Dustin rush through my mind and I soon hear a few sobs escape past my lips. Luckily they're muffled against Nate's jacket as I'm not sure how I'd explain to Rachel my predicament if she were ever to awaken and find me in my current state.

Through my tears and muffled sobs, I hear Nate whispering that everything's going to be alright. And while a part of me is hoping he is indeed right, another part of me becomes angry with his nonchalant attitude. How could he possibly know that? He wasn't there. He didn't see what I saw. He doesn't know what I know. Furthermore, he's never even so much as met Rachel's dads. So how could he know that everything is going to be 'alright'? When I finally catch my breath, I ask him just such.

"Because I know you, Shelby." Again with that. I pull back slightly and look up to see him smiling down at me warmly, his brown eyes sparkling. No glint, no hint of mischief, just a warm, gentle gaze that somehow manages to soothe my sobs down into intermittent sniffles. "You did what you could today. Just short of killing him, what else could you have done differently?"

"She shouldn't have been there today, Nate. She came looking for me and—"

"Did you know she was going to come looking for you?" he interjects softly.

"No, but—"

"Then stop beating yourself up. You had no idea Rachel was coming, so how are you to blame? If you want someone to blame, blame Dustin. He acted immaturely by instigating this entire altercation. Although he may not have known that Rachel was your daughter, he should've known better than to grab a student. You were only doing what you thought was best. Okay?"

"But what about—"

"You did what you could. There was nothing more you could've done. Okay?"

"Okay," I answer quietly, feeling better about this whole situation yet thoroughly reprimanded all at the same time. I settle back into Nate's shoulder and begin to silently process Nate's reasoning. He does make a point. I had no control of the situation from the beginning. I didn't know Rachel was coming to see me. And I didn't know she would run into Dustin. And I certainly didn't know he was going to grab her. Had I known all of this would've happened, it never would have gotten this far.

But what's done is done. I did what I thought was best. So now, there is nothing left for me to do but to tell Rachel's dads everything that happened.

Something that is easier said than done.

-PA-

It takes me a while to regain my composure. Longer than I'd care to admit, but I do. And Nate stays with me through it all. Holding me close and repeatedly reassuring me that today wasn't my fault, that Dustin is in fact the guilty party. That despite my fears, I'm not going to lose my daughter.

Simply restoring my confidence in myself as a capable parent and all around setting my mind at ease about my upcoming meeting with the fathers Berry.

About ten minutes after my breakdown, I hear an odd creaking sound that draws my attention away from Nate's words, and even the intimate embrace he currently has me in, to the doorway of the kitchen. But, there's no one there.

Strange.

As I'm about to close my eyes once again and replace my head on Nate's shoulder, I catch sight of the clock and I'm instantly reminded that Rachel's dads should be arriving shortly. I pull back and take a slight step back out of Nate's arms, causing him to look at me strangely.

"Something wrong?"

"No," I reply, suddenly feeling self conscious. "It's just that Rachel's dads will be here any minute and…"

"And you'd rather not have us meet just yet," he concludes knowingly, as I nod in agreement. "You aren't embarrassed by me, are you Ms. Corcoran?"

"N-no, it's just that…" As I struggle to come up with a reasonable excuse, I look up to find him smiling at me. I roll my eyes and give him a playful slap. "Really funny, Dr. Walker."

"I do try," he says with a chuckle as he makes his way out the kitchen.

I follow his lead, sneaking a peek up at Rachel's door once again. This time it's closed and I begin to consider if I was simply not seeing straight the last time I looked. I shake it off and meet Nate by the front door. When we both arrive, he takes hold of the handle and I feel a sudden urge to say or do something. Anything. I just don't know what. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough. And we just spent a good five minutes hugging. And a kiss would just be—

"You gonna be okay?"

Nate's question disrupts my thinking and thankfully brings my attention back to the present. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looks at me skeptically causing me to laugh. "I'm serious, Nate! I'll be okay." He continues to stare at me for a bit longer, before decisively shrugging as if finally taking me at my word. I shake my head at his actions as he opens the door. Before he can leave though, I stop him. "Thanks, Nate. For everything."

He waves off my words and throws in a smirk before taking my hand in one of his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't mention it. Just call me later and tell me how everything goes. No matter how late it is. And tell Rachel to give me a call as well."

"I will." He releases my hand then, giving me yet another one of his bright smiles before stepping out the door. I step out as well, hugging myself against the chilly night air. I watch him approach his car and give him one last wave before he opens the door.

"See you Saturday?"

"Saturday," I affirm with a nod. He smiles at me once again before slipping into his car and pulling out of the driveway. I continue to watch his car until I see the taillights disappear down the road and out of sight before turning back to reenter my home. As I'm locking the door, I once again hear the creaking noise that I'd heard previously while Nate and I had been in the kitchen.

I know that sound.

Instead of dwelling on it, though, I make my way to the living room to grab my water. Half empty bottle in hand, I then return to the kitchen and walk over to the refrigerator. Retrieving yet another bottle, I shut the door and lean against it, my eyes trained on the doorway. "You can come in now." I then witness with a small smile as my daughter steps out of the shadows and into the kitchen.

"How'd you know I was there?" she asks me as she approaches the island and climbs onto one of the bar stools.

I shrug and make my way to the island. Moving to stand across from her, I set the bottle down before her. "It's a gift. After a woman gives birth she gains a few abilities. Eyes in the back of the head, internal lie detector, and I can always tell when you're close by," I tell her with a wink, garnering a smile from her lips. I observe Rachel toy with the bottle for a bit before her gaze falls to the counter. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay, I guess."

While her tears may have subsided, I can still hear the distress in my daughter's voice. I lean forward and try to capture Rachel's gaze. But like I was with Nate earlier, Rachel is reluctant to meet my eyes. "Honey, what's wrong?" When she doesn't respond, I make my way around to her and take a seat on the nearest stool. "Rachel, look at me. I can't fix it, if you don't tell me what's wrong."

At my urging, Rachel looks up at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I should've called and told you that I was coming. Or I should've waited until after you were home. I shouldn't have just showed up. If I had—"

Before my daughter can continue to blame herself and before she can witness the tears that are forming in my own eyes, I stand and pull her to me, holding her tight as she's overcome by her own emotions. "This wasn't your fault, Rach."

"Yes it was," she cries into my shoulder. "If I had just waited—"

I take a step back and hold my daughter at arm's length. "Rachel Barbra Berry. This was not your fault," I tell her in a direct, clear-cut tone that I usually reserve for my students. "And I don't want to hear you apologize for something that you had absolutely no control over. Do you understand me?"

"B-but—"

"Do you understand me?" I watch her rub at her eyes with the back of her hand, much like a younger child would and then mutter a quiet 'yes, ma'am' before I gently pull her back to me, and place her head on my shoulder. And despite Rachel's attempts to contain her emotions, her tears soon resume and I find myself holding her even tighter as her small frame is wracked by several fierce sobs. It takes everything in me not to cry as well, so I focus all of my attention on comforting my daughter. Soothing her cries, rocking her back and forth and running my hand through her hair. Eventually she calms down and I take a step back to look into her eyes. "Better?"

'Ye—" I smile when I hear a violent hiccup tear through her words. Grabbing the water from behind her, I remove the cap and offer it to her. Watching as she takes a few sips, I resume my seat and continue to keep an eye on her. When she's finally recovered, from tears and hiccups alike, I pose my question again. This time she answers clearly. "Mom?"

I look over at my child and while I'm thankful that I no longer see the pain and panic in her eyes, there is still something there that bothers me. There is still this sadness evident in them and a sense of worry etched in her brow. "What's up, Hon?"

"They can't stop me from seeing you, y'know," she tells me quietly.

At such a random statement, I furrow my brow and look to my daughter. "Who can't stop you, Rachel?"

"My dads," she answers, this time looking directly at me. "They can't stop me. I won't let them."

While I'm touched by my daughter's sentiment, I'm also bothered by it. "Where's this coming from, Rach?" When she shrugs in response, I begin to consider her words. They can't stop me. For a minute, I'm surprised by the fact that Rachel mentioned the very thing I was most afraid of. Actually I'm downright stunned. I mean, why would my fifteen year old daughter be concerned that her fathers would forbid her from seeing me?

Unless…

Unless she'd been down here earlier when I was talking with Nate.

"Rachel." Turning in my seat, I carefully study my daughter as she lifts her eyes to my own. "What did you hear?" Either Rachel knows exactly what I'm talking about or I'm jumping the gun. But as I see her gaze fall to the floor once again, I know she knows. So when she doesn't answer my question, I try a different tactic. "Okay, then, how much did you hear?"

"Enough," she answers inaudibly, as she begins to fiddle with the hem of her T-shirt.

"And what's 'enough'?"

"I heard you talking to Nate…about me. And how you were worried about what my dads might do," she answers hesitantly. "I also heard you crying." When Rachel looks up at me, I gaze into my daughter's wide brown eyes and I can see the overt concern and anxiety in them. She's just as scared to lose me as I am her. "I won't let them do it, Mom. They can't just stop me from seeing you. I'll talk to them and then—"

"Rachel." I say her name firmly, so as to stop her nervous rambling. "While I would appreciate you talking to your dads, it isn't necessary. I'm going to tell them exactly what happened. Whatever happens after that is up to them. They're your legal guardians. So they get the final say, whether I like it or not."

"Well it isn't fair," she says petulantly, looking away and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

I smile at her attitude. For all her bravado and claims of maturity, my daughter really is just a kid.

Taking hold of her arms, I pull her towards me, so her gaze is level with my own. "No, it's not fair, but it's what's going to happen. And whether we like it or not, we have to listen to them. You already know that I can't legally demand to see you because I relinquished my parental rights. But know this," I tell her as I gently tilt her chin up. "No matter what the outcome, or your fathers' decision, I will always be just one call away. If you ever need me for anything. Anything at all. If you want to talk about glee, school, whatever. Even if you just want to talk about the weather. I'll be right here. Always."

I see Rachel perk up at that. "You promise?"

"I promise," I tell her genuinely. I give her a minute to process my words. It doesn't take long though because I soon witness her arms fall to her sides and a full-fledged grin grace my daughter's features before she falls into me, causing me to instinctively wrap my arms tightly around her.

"Love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Rach."

-PA-

Mere minutes after my promise to Rachel, our embrace is interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. After instructing my daughter to remain silent and to allow me to do all of the talking, unless asked or told otherwise, I stand up to answer the door, with Rachel trailing closely behind. We find her fathers on the other side of the door and after exchanging simple greetings, I then lead the way into the living room, where they both promptly sit down. Hiram and Leroy on the couch and Rachel in an armchair off to the side.

I, on the other hand, opt to remain standing once my previous feelings of restlessness and apprehension return. I then move to stand in the center of the room, where all eyes will undoubtedly be focused on me.

Before I even begin with an explanation, I ask for Hiram and Leroy to save all questions and comments until the very end after I have gotten everything out. Taking a deep breath, I am just about to begin, when I am beaten to the punch.

"Wait!"

Now prior to today Rachel has been successful in completely disregarding all of my instructions. But I suppose I had thought that with everything she'd been through she'd comply and actually listen to me this time around.

Clearly that was just a pipedream on my part, I think sardonically, as I watch my daughter jump up and move to my side so now she, too, is facing her fathers.

"Before you say anything, Mom, I need to get this out," Rachel explains. "Dad, Daddy. I know you told me to wait until this weekend to talk to Mom. But I couldn't because today was the last day to get the permission slip in…"

Permission slip?

"..and I told Mr. Schue that I'd gotten the signatures, but I'd just neglected to bring it to school with me. So he gave me until tomorrow to get it in. I knew then that I definitely had to get it done today or else I'd forfeit my role in the musical…"

Musical?

"…so after school, I caught a ride with Artie and his dad and they were kind enough to drop me off at Carmel. I thought that I'd simply catch Mom in practice because I remembered her mentioning, during our usual nightly phone call, that she would have glee rehearsal today. So I snuck into the auditorium, just like the last time, and thought I'd find her. But instead I ran into Dustin and he said he was going to call my parents to come and get me because he thought I was spying for Mr. Schue. But I kept trying to tell him that I wasn't. And then Mom showed up and she took care of everything. So please don't forbid me from seeing her because this wasn't her fault. It was all mine! Honest! Mom had no idea I was going to be there. So if you're going to blame someone, blame me. But I won't let you take Mom away from me." And as if to emphasize her point, my daughter steps even closer to me and wraps her arms tightly around my waist, burying her head into my chest.

With the conclusion of Rachel's statement, I find myself stunned into silence. Having not had the forethought to actually ask why she had been at Carmel in the first place, I remain quiet for quite some time to allow everything to fall into place. My daughter has effectively answered several of my previous questions with her sudden outburst.

She came to find me over a permission slip. Which she apparently needs for some musical and because Will's name was mentioned I think it's fair to assume that it ties in to glee club.

Draping an arm over Rachel's shoulders, I hug her closer to me as I feel her begin to shake, her nerves apparently getting the best of her. I also whisper a reminder in her ear telling her to steady her breathing because the last thing I need is for her to start hyperventilating. Once satisfied that oxygen is properly and gradually flowing through my child's body, I turn to Leroy and Hiram who are both staring back at us, their faces blank thus making it that much more difficult to even attempt reading them.

An awkward silence, peppered only with Rachel's sporadic sniffles, soon befalls our small group. Several minutes go by and I soon grow uneasy. So unable to take the noiselessness any longer, I clear my throat. "Any questions?"

"Just one," Leroy finally answers quietly. "But it's for Rachel." I watch as he looks to Hiram and then returns his gaze to Rachel. I look down to my daughter to see her eyes darting between the three of us, before finally settling on her father. "Why'd you think we'd keep you away from your mother, Princess?"

"I-I—"

"I think I can answer that." I offer Rachel a grim smile before looking up to face her dads. "I may have mentioned something along those lines while I was speaking with a friend about today. I suppose as I was preparing for this, uh, meeting, I began to consider the possible outcomes."

"And you thought we'd take Rachel away from you?" Hiram asks, crossing his arms and settling his eyes on me as well. As always, I look to his eyes and I notice the calmness and gentleness that is so clear in them, as well as in his tone. And it puzzles me because I certainly hadn't expected to see it nor hear it.

"Well…yes," I answer solemnly, wrapping my arms tighter around Rachel once I feel a growing wet spot on my shoulder, indicating that she has begun crying yet again.

"I see," he murmurs. He then turns towards his partner and they commence a silent conversation with their eyes. And while I can only speculate as to what is going on, I must say it doesn't look good. Moments later they both turn back to Rachel and me. "Rachel? Princess…can you please give your father and I a moment with your mom?"

At Hiram's request, I feel Rachel cling even tighter to me and vigorously shake her head. "No!" she answers vehemently. "Daddy, it's not fair! You can't! I nee—"

"Rachel."

"But Daddy," Rachel pleads desperately. She's about to continue, but her words are silenced when she catches sight of both her fathers giving her rather self-explanatory looks. Despite the shared glances, though, Rachel remains adamant at staying at my side. "I'm not leaving."

While I find it somewhat comical that my daughter is currently exhibiting the unyielding and stubborn attitude that she no doubt got from me, now is not the time to display it. "Rachel? Baby, listen to your dads," I tell her quietly.

She pulls her head back and looks at me, her eyes wide and a genuine pout firmly in place. "I'm not leaving you."

"I'll be fine, Rach," I assure her, even offering a smile. "As a matter of fact, why don't you go upstairs and give Nate a call. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear from you." I soon feel her grip around me loosening and I realize that I've made progress. She eventually releases me completely and moves in the direction of the stairs. I turn away from her dads, my eyes remaining on her slow retreating figure even as she stops in the doorway and turns giving me yet another somber look. "Go on, Sweetie. I'll be up in a minute, okay?"

At that she nods, before disappearing out of sight. I sigh deeply then, bracing myself for what I'm sure will turn into a very grueling conversation with Rachel's dads. A conversation that I am nowhere near prepared for, but have no choice to face.

"Shelby?"

Upon hearing Leroy's voice, I turn back to face him and Hiram. I then proceed to tell them the story as I know it, preferring to stare at the floor instead of their faces. I'm not too sure I'm ready to face the infuriated and outraged glares that will most likely be directed my way once I've reached the ending.

I finally conclude my detailed account and only then do I look up because when I apologize I need them to see that I completely grasp the magnitude of what happened today. "Look. Hiram, Leroy. I am truly sorry. This never should have happened, and it shouldn't have gotten this far. And I am more than willing to accept full—"

"Shelby, stop." I then watch Leroy get up from the couch and make his way around the coffee table to stand before me. "I think I can speak for myself and Hiram when I say we don't hold you accountable for anything that happened today. And now that we know the whole story, it's a relief to know that you were even present. God knows what would've happened had you not stepped in when you did."

"Yes, but—"

"No Shelby, there's no but," Leroy calmly interjects. "You did what you could and because of it Rachel is none the worse for wear. A little shaken up, but still the same vivacious, spirited teenager she was this morning. And for that we are thankful."

"And as for who's to blame, I'd say Dustin fits that bill rather nicely, wouldn't you?" Hiram says with a small smile from his place on the couch. "I do admit that there is one thing that bothers me, though."

I knew it was too good to be true.

"And what's that?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Your continued doubt in yourself and your capabilities," Hiram tells me softly. "I realize that you're still trying to find yourself and that you're still coming to terms with your new role as a parent, but never doubt that you are a good mother to Rachel. So if you ever need a reminder that you are, please feel free to come to us and we'll set you straight. Or just look to Rachel. She absolutely adores you. She loves you immensely, Shelby. And if you don't believe that, look how she was willing to defy us in order stay by your side tonight. As for our faith in you, it was only last week we had you sign the amendment to our will, naming you Rachel's sole guardian should anything happen. We trust you Shelby. And most importantly, so does our daughter. So please stop questioning yourself because the minute that you do, you'll relieve yourself of a lot of unnecessary stress."

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling as I nod in response. I soon find myself caught up in a quick hug from Leroy and then Hiram, who has made his way over to us as well. When we separate, I find both men looking at me, their eyes full of compassion. "Thank you."

Leroy offers me a smile. "No, Shelby. Thank you."

After settling down, we take up seats on the couch and armchair, respectively, and spend the next few minutes discussing the plans for the next scheduled family dinner, eventually selecting the Thursday of the following week. The Berry men then express that it's getting late and they should probably be getting home. I nod and am about to call out to Rachel to grab her things, when Hiram assures me that it's okay that she spend the night and one of them can pick her up in the morning for school.

"That won't be necessary," I inform Hiram. "I can take her."

"Don't you have work?" Leroy asks curiously.

"I've been thinking of calling out." And I have been. I'm in no mood to see Dustin any time soon and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Friday as well as the weekend to completely come to terms with everything.

"That's probably for the best," Hiram says with a nod, before following Leroy out the door. "I don't think Dustin knows just what he's gotten himself into." We share a laugh at the statement, but we both know that there is certainly some truth to it. "And if you need either of us to come down to the school, just give us a call."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle it, but I'll keep that in mind." One last wave and like I did with Nate, I watch as Leroy's car pulls out of the driveway and turns the corner. I step back into the house and shut the door behind me, leaning back on it after putting the locks in place. Breathing a sigh of relief, I push myself off the door. At the sound of yet another creak, my eyes dart upstairs just in time to see my daughter's head duck out of sight.

Rolling my eyes and chuckling at Rachel's lack of subtlety and dexterousness, I make my way up the stairs and to her bedroom door. I knock once before entering to find her lying on her back in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just going to assume you heard everything, so there's no sense in repeating it. Am I right?" I watch her nod guiltily before I take up the space next to her. Lying down, I close my eyes and release a deep sigh.

"That was close," Rachel comments absently.

"Yes. Yes, it was," I say, opening one eye to peek over at her.

"I wasn't worried though," Rachel states matter-of-factly. "Not even for a second."

"Really? Well, you sure had an odd way of showing it." I chuckle when she begins to smile bashfully. Having had my fun, I then roll over to lean on my arm, propping my head up on my fist. "So…what did Nate say?"

My daughter sits up and mirrors my posture, a bright smile on her face. "He told me to remind you to call him tonight, so don't forget."

"I won't," I tell her with a smile. "What else?"

"He also said he can't wait for Saturday. Why didn't you tell me we were going to the carnival?"

I shrug. "I wanted to surprise you with something fun this weekend," I answer simply. "We don't have to go if you don't want to. If you think you're too old—"

"Are you kidding? I love the fall carnival! Daddy and I try to go every year, assuming he's free," Rachel tells me excitedly. "I was actually going to ask if we could go together. But now that we're going with Nate, this is going to be so much better! We can go on the bumper cars, and see the stunt show. Oh and then there's the games…"

I smirk as Rachel continues with her animated outline of Saturday's activities. When she pauses to take a breath, I decide to redirect the conversation if only for a moment. "Rachel?" My daughter looks up, focusing more intently on me, her eyes sparkling. "Why didn't you tell me about the musical?" I then witness the brightness in her eyes fade away and her smile along with it. She then moves to lie on her back again, but this time covering her face with a stuffed animal. "Rachel." She soon responds, but due to her mouth being covered her words are muffled. I reach over and remove the mid-sized teddy bear that is covering my child's face. "What was that?"

"I said, 'because I knew you'd say no,'" she tells me quietly.

I furrow my brow at her assumption. "And how do you know that? I probably would have said yes if you'd been upfront with me." Rachel quirks an eyebrow at me and fixes me with a skeptical look. "What? I might've."

Rachel scoffs as she sits up to face me. "No offense, Mom, but I think you've made your stance on certain things pretty clear. And I'm pretty sure had I brought up Rocky Horror to you earlier, you would've said no. To be honest, when Mr. Schue initially told me that I needed to get you to sign the permission slip, in addition to my dads, I actually considered forging your signature."

"Really?" I ask, with a hint of surprise. "How'd that go?"

"I couldn't do it…" I smile then, thankful that my little girl remained truthful, "…mainly because you do this thing with your C's that is nearly impossible to replicate. I practiced for at least an hour…"

My smile falls then at Rachel's confession, but soon returns, albeit wryly, as she goes on to inform me that my signature is much more difficult than her fathers'. Both of which she's managed to master.

"Okay. How about this," I begin, pushing myself up and off of the bed. "It's eight o'clock now. If you promise to focus on your homework and not attempt to recreate my signature ever again, I promise to consider signing the permission slip. Deal?"

"Deal," she affirms before sliding off of the bed to grab her bag pack. Rifling through the front pocket, she quickly retrieves the sheet of paper that caused today's fiasco and hands it off to me. She then walks over to her desk and pulls out all of her necessary books.

I move to the doorway of her room, slip in hand, and continue to watch my daughter for a few more minutes as she delves into her various assignments.

Never doubt that you're a good mother.

Hiram's words reverberate through my mind as I continue to look in on my child. She flashes me another smile, one I fully return, before returning her attention to her history textbook. With one last look and a firm nod, I vow to do as Hiram said and try my best to keep my doubts to a minimum.

Pulling the door behind me, I make my way to my own bedroom and fall back onto my bed. Retrieving my cell phone from my pocket, I quickly scroll through my address book. After calling the school's hotline, I dial another familiar number before hitting the 'talk' button. The phone barely rings twice before the person on the other end picks up.

"Hey. How'd it go?"

"Fine, Nate. Just fine."

-PA-

"Mooom! You said you'd sign it if I did my homework," Rachel whines, as we pull up in front of McKinley High.

"No, actually I didn't. I said I'd consider signing it. There's a difference," I clarify. "I'm sorry, Sweetie, but you guys are still young and I feel that Rocky Horror is a little too inappropriate for your age group. The lyrics are too suggestive and don't even get me started on some of the costumes—"

"But, Mom!"

"Look Rach, I told you I'd think about it. And I did. I'm not too sure I feel comfortable with you doing this musical." I look across to the passenger side of my car to see Rachel frowning and sulking in her seat. I know how much she was probably looking forward to this and I hate to put a damper on her dreams, but I can't have my fifteen your old daughter participating in something that still tends to cause controversy in today's day and age.

But as I continue to watch her, and spot what looks like tears forming in her eyes, I feel my resolve breaking ever so slightly.

Oh for heaven's sake!

"But…I suppose if I were to talk to Mr. Schuester about editing some of the more risqué scenes—"

"Oh thank you, Mom. Thankyouthankyouthankyou, thank you!" Rachel quickly exclaims, lunging over the center console and enveloping me in a fierce hug.

I laugh at her enthusiasm. "You're welcome, babygirl." She soon releases me once I remind her that she does indeed need to get to class. I watch her jump out of my car and grab her bag pack from the backseat. She then shuts the door, but before she can run off I call her attention back to the passenger window. "Please, tell Mr. Schuester to call me when he gets a chance."

"Will do. Bye, Mom," she yells over her shoulder.

"Bye." I shake my head and smile as I observe her join the horde of students all rushing to make their way into the school. Once I see her bright pink sweater disappear into the building, I pull out of the parking lot and head back home.

Entering the kitchen, I drop my keys and my purse before grabbing a cup of coffee. After my quick liquid breakfast and with nothing specifically planned for today, I go about the mundane task of cleaning the entire house. From top to bottom. A job that I usually reserve for Sunday, when I'm granted the most free time.

After changing into an old T-shirt and sweats, I start in my bedroom, dusting, vacuuming and gathering any errant clothes that need to be added to the growing laundry pile. Once satisfied that my room is complete I make my way to Rachel's room down the hall.

Affording it the same attention as I did my own room, I'm running the vacuum around the floor when something protruding from underneath my daughter's bed catches my eye. Shutting off the vacuum, I walk closer and examine what I soon realize is a box. I look around, almost surreptitiously, before chuckling at myself. No one's here but me. Rachel's at school.

I then proceed to pull it out, and I soon learn it is only one of many. Six in fact.

When I've got all the boxes removed from under Rachel's bed, I recognize about half of them as some of my own. They're mostly full of old albums from my childhood, ranging from my toddler years to my years in middle and high school. One of them may even contain a few albums from college.

I disregard the three unfamiliar ones, mainly for fear of intruding on my daughter's privacy and instead look to the three boxes I can claim as my own. Choosing a box at random, I grab, then open, the topmost album and recognize it instantly, recalling these particular memories with fondness. It was from a trip to the beach with my parents and my two older siblings.

I flip through it and I can't contain the growing smile that soon appears on my face. There's a picture with me, when I was about three, sitting on my dad's shoulders as we played in the waves. My dad. The honorable judge David Eli Corcoran. The most feared but well-respected lawyer turned judge in the state of Ohio. Yet, despite his imposing figure, to me he was always just 'Dad'. And I was his little girl.

I admire a few more photographs before flipping to the next page and I'm unable to hold in the laughter that soon escapes past my lips. The next photo is of me and my older brother, David, and we're both standing in the middle of the old kitchen completely covered in mud.

I couldn't have been any older than six or seven, making David at least sixteen, maybe even seventeen. We'd just finished washing our dog, Toby, in the backyard.

As David went to shut off the hose and I'd gone about gathering the towels we'd used, Toby had wandered into our mother's vegetable garden, where he promptly began digging through the freshly placed soil. I was the first to notice and had tried to pull Toby from the one place he was forbidden to go. But in cases with a big dog and little girl, rarely does the little girl luck out. So I'd quickly called David over to help me. It took us a few minutes but we soon managed to pull Toby away from our mother's precious tomato patches. But not before he pounced on the both of us, covering us in the very soil he had just finished playing in. By the time we wrestled him off, we were both wholly coated in dirt. We could do nothing but laugh about it as we both attempted to sneak into the house. It was useless though. Our mother, Sarah Eleanor Corcoran, the accomplished lawyer and dedicated parent, had been in the kitchen baking for some function and had spotted us immediately.

Mom had been absolutely horrified at the very thought of us trekking mud on the floor she had just finished cleaning thoroughly. And as I replace the album in its particular box, I can still hear my dad's laughter bellowing throughout the house as he took the snapshot. I smile at the memories each familiar box contains, but I'm still slightly confused.

Why does Rachel have these?

I mean I've long since given my daughter complete access to my home. She's got a key to the house and she's more than free to wander through it as she pleases. She also has complete access to the videos, music and pictures alike, so why does she feel the need to hide these?

Resolving to talk to Rachel about it later, I replace the boxes underneath her bed and return to my previous task of tidying up. Making quick work of my daughter's room, I soon get to the other two guest rooms thus completing upstairs.

As I'm heading downstairs to the first floor, I hear my cell phone go off from its place in my back pocket. Pulling it out I take a seat in the middle of the staircase and examine the caller ID screen before accepting the call. "Good morning, Will."

Hey Shelby. Rachel said you wished to speak to me.

"Yes I did. It's about your latest venture in glee club. Rocky Horror, Will? Really?" I ask doubtfully. "Are you sure that you want to even go there? I mean, you're already on rocky ground after what happened at Regionals a few months ago. And let's not forget the latest pep rally you performed. Are you sure this is the best thing for you to be doing right now?"

Why not? Shelby, you know as well as I do that the point of the arts is to push boundaries. Doing things people say you can't do for the sake of self…

I quirk an eyebrow as I continue to listen to Will drone on. "Yes, well. I'm all for it, Will. If your intent is simply to offer the kids a form of self-expression," I tell him. "I'm just curious as to why you chose Rocky Horror. As opposed to say, RENT, Spring Awakening, Cabaret or even Victor/Victoria? What makes Rocky Horror so special?" I hear absolute silence on the other line and I find myself questioning Will's objective. Am I missing something? I'm suddenly struck by some inspiration as the silence continues. "Will, what aren't you telling me?"

Umm, nothing.

Yeah, that was certainly believable. "Look, I will agree to my child participating in this production, if and only if, the real reason behind putting on this show is to let the kids have some fun and be themselves. But, if I find out otherwise, you can expect a phone call from at least one angry parent and possibly one from Figgins as well. Got it?" I allow my threat to hang in the air and I'm pretty sure I hear Will audibly gulp on the line.

Well, when you put it that way…I do have a confession to make.

I knew it. "And I can't wait to hear it," I say with a satisfied smirk. Over the next few minutes, Will tells me about the latest episode in his soap opera-esque personal life. It would appear that the guidance counselor he was seeing a few months ago broke up with him and is now seeing a dentist. The very same dentist that my daughter visited a few weeks ago, as luck would have it. He then explains that while they were eating lunch a few days ago the topic of Rocky Horror came up as well as their "shared love" for the groundbreaking musical. And then sometime during that meeting, he "may or may not" have just blurted out that the glee club would be staging the show.

I'm not really sure what came over me, to be honest.

"The word desperation comes to mind," I comment dryly. While I'm glad that he's now being truthful, I'm still considering the musical. I'm sure the glee kids are all looking forward to it. And I'd hate for them to be disappointed if the production gets cancelled. Especially if they're even half as excited as Rachel was earlier.

Are you going to tell Figgins?

I sigh deeply as I consider Will's question, in addition to my own thoughts. "No, I won't tell Figgins," I answer, "but if you are going to continue with this insane attempt to win over Emma's affections, you can fully expect to see me at every rehearsal just to be sure you're not taking advantage of these kids, mine in particular, just to get in good standings with the girl. Do we understand each other, Mr. Schuester?"

Yes we do Ms. Corcoran. So…I'll see you at three o'clock?

"Looking forward to it."

-PA-

Having sat through my daughter's rehearsals at McKinley until well after nine last night, and not arriving back home until nearly eleven, I thought it practically a give-in that I would definitely be sleeping in the following morning. In fact, I had even shut off my usual alarm in order to do so.

And with Nate not arriving at my house until well after one to pick Rachel and I up, I had assumed that all of my bases were indeed covered because even if I were to awake well after ten, I'd still have more than enough to time to get ready.

Regrettably, there was one thing I didn't take into account. And it was that single variable that would be my downfall.

My daughter.

At six o'clock this morning, I, like most people I'd imagine, was still fast asleep and quite content to remain that way, enjoying the warmth my bed and blankets provided. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and unbeknownst to me, my darling daughter was just waking up. Within the next few minutes, she would jump out of her bed and make her way down the hall to my bedroom door. At which point, she proceeded to barge into my room and pounce on me, immediately startling the hell of out of me.

"What the —" I stop myself short, thankfully, because the word that almost escapes is not one meant for any child, my own included, to hear. Barely conscious, I shoot up from my bed, frantically searching around for my attacker, as well as clutching my rapidly beating heart. After a few deep breaths, I soon calm myself down only to find my daughter calmly seated next to me, a bright smile on her face. "Jesus! Rachel? Honey, what's wrong?" I inquire, as I tiredly rub at my eyes.

"It's Saturday."

"Okay," I drawl, over a yawn that escapes past my lips. Despite my daughter's answer, I'm still puzzled as to the reason behind my early morning wake up call. "But why are you up so early?"

"We're going to the carnival today!" Rachel squeals, clapping gleefully.

I release a deep groan. "Rachel, Sweetie. Nate's not going to be here for another," I pause to glance at my alarm clock and am downright stunned at what I'm seeing. "Rachel it's barely after six, Nate won't be here until one, the earliest."

"But we have to—"

"You'll have more than enough time to have breakfast, Rach." I say knowingly.

"Yes, but we still have to—"

"And we'll have plenty of time to get ready, too," I interject, before falling back into my pillows. "So, go back to sleep." Out of habit, I refluff my pillow and close my eyes. I've just barely settled into blissful unconsciousness when I'm brought back out of it by my daughter softly calling out to me. I don't bother turning to face her, or even opening my eyes for that matter. "What is it, Rachel?"

"I can't."

Rolling onto my back, I look up at my daughter through hazy, half-lidded eyes. "You can't what?"

"Go back to sleep," she mumbles. "I guess I'm too excited about this afternoon."

I chuckle tiredly at her admission. "I understand that, Hon. I do. But how much fun do you expect to have if you're too tired to do anything?"

Rachel then nods, as she considers my words. She then goes on to slip out of the bed.

I then witness as she looks to the door and back to me for several minutes, almost as if she's fighting an internal battle of just what to do. It takes me a minute to realize what's going on, and that's only because of the early hour. But when I do I quickly act. Because while the idea of her going back to her room is promising, the very idea that'd she'd probably end up sitting there just staring into space for the next few hours is not.

So throwing the blankets back on the other side of the bed, I instruct my daughter to get in, which she promptly does with a wide grin. "You can stay, but just promise me one thing."

"What's that?" she asks, as she gets comfortable.

"That you'll be quiet."

"I promise."

Surprisingly, my daughter is able to keep her promise. And when I awake nearly three hours later, I realize why. She's fast asleep. And if I had to guess, she was out only moments after I was.

I look down at my child with a smirk and find that once again she has utilized me as her substitute teddy bear. This time around though, I'm able to quickly extract myself with little to no problem by offering her my pillow to cuddle with instead. I tuck the blankets around my baby girl and make my way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I opt for a cup of coffee and the opportunity to get a head start on breakfast.

As it approaches ten o'clock, I'm slightly puzzled as to why I haven't as yet seen my daughter. With my third cup of coffee in hand as well as a bowl of fruit salad for Rachel, I make my way back up to my bedroom and what I see brings a bright smile to my face.

Earlier I had left Rachel curled up with a pillow on the right side of my bed. But now my daughter is splayed out in the center of it and I can just barely make out her head underneath the blankets. And that is only because her hand is exposed and hanging off of the edge of the mattress. Setting my mug and Rachel's breakfast to one side on my vanity, I make my way to the bedside.

Now while the prospect of gently rousing my daughter from sleep is probably the right thing to do, I'm thoroughly tempted to seek retribution for this morning's assault.

So it's with a mischievous smirk on my lips that I plop down onto the bed and lean down by my daughter's ear. "Rachel?" I hear her mumble a response hazily. "Honey, it's almost one and Nate's gonna be here any minute." And with that I quickly move off of the bed and to the nearby wall to watch the upcoming show.

Within seconds, as expected, Rachel's head shoots up, still covered by the blanket, and she wildly begins looking around the room. "Oh no!" She then proceeds to scramble out of the bed and out the door. "Moom! Why'd you let me sleep so late!"

With a laugh, I grab my mug and the bowl I'd previously set aside before following Rachel to her own bedroom. I move to lean in her doorway and watch as she runs about her room, violently tearing through her dresser and then her closet for something to wear. She finally grabs one of her many pleated skirts and a top. After throwing the outfit onto her bed, she then moves to head to her en-suite bathroom. Before she can enter though, I stop her. "You might want to rethink that outfit, Rach."

"W-what? Why?"

"Because you don't wear a skirt and a blouse to a carnival," I answer her plainly, stepping into the room.

"But I spent all night choosing that outfit. I don't have time to pick out a new one because Nate's going to be arriving any minute now!" she cries.

"Then might I suggest just picking out a polo or a sweatshirt," I recommend as I offer her the bowl of fruit. "Both of which tend to go relatively well with this modern invention I like to call jeans. Maybe you've seen them. They're made of denim and they look an awful lot like pants."

Shooting me an annoyed look, Rachel accepts her breakfast and takes two spoonfuls of fruit before returning to her closet to rethink her outfit selection. I continue to look on as she grabs a few tops and places them on her bed. "Which one should I wear?"

I examine the tops for a minute and eventually settle on the green polo I recognize as one that I bought for her on one of our recent shopping trips. She then returns to my side with a pair of jeans and a hoodie. "Now then, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"No," she mumbles as she looks over the outfit. On her way back into her bathroom, she turns to me with a quizzical expression. "Hey Mom, why aren't you dressed?"

Focusing on the contents of my mug, I decide it's probably time to let the cat out of the bag, so I move to make my exit. "Oh, I've got plenty of time." Taking a sip of my coffee, I also employ the mug to hide my growing smile as my daughter turns to look at her clock. The look she then gives me causes me to laugh aloud.

"Y'know…parents, especially moms, are supposed to be nice to their daughters," she comments as she leans in the doorway. She's pouting but clearly fighting back her own smile.

"Well…y'know children, especially daughters, should know better than to wake their mothers at six o'clock in the morning," I counter. "I suppose we both learned something today, huh?"

"I suppose," she states entering her bathroom. However right before she closes the door she flashes me a smile. And like last weekend, it's the same un-Rachel like smirk that leaves me wondering just what I've gotten myself into.

-PA-

As it turns out, my daughter may have been on to something because Nate arrived a little earlier than expected. A good thirty minutes earlier. Not that it mattered, though, seeing as both Rachel and I had been ready nearly an hour prior.

So after a quick lunch at a local deli, we then proceeded to cross the street to the nearest movie theatre. Having not really given it much thought prior to our arrival, I offered, and Nate wholly agreed, to let Rachel choose the movie.

First mistake.

After Nate gave her the money, Rachel quickly ran off to the box office to purchase the tickets. When she returned she excitedly announced that we would be seeing the latest Harry Potter installment. We then stopped at the concession stand at Nate's insistence, because 'what fun is a movie without popcorn', before following Rachel's lead into our assigned theatre.

As we walked down the crowded aisle, I began searching out a row that would accommodate the three of us.

But it would seem that my daughter had other plans.

Before we could go any further, Rachel stopped and informed us that she had found adequate seating. When I asked where, she pointed it out to me and I was confused when I saw only one available seat. "Rach, how—"

"You guys can sit up here," she'd said indicating the two available seats just to Nate's left, "and I'll sit back there. See you after the movie!" With a wink in my direction, my daughter proceeded to run off before I could stop her. And I would have followed after her, had Nate not promptly grabbed my elbow and gently guided me into the row.

"Let it go, Shel," he'd told me with a smile.

"But—"

"Let it go."

Pursing my lips in frustration, I'd settled down into my seat with an angry huff, much to Nate's amusement. Crossing my arms like a petulant child, I sat back and turned my eyes to the screen. Once the previews for other upcoming films ended, but before the theatre could go completely dark, I turned back and caught sight of my daughter smiling down at me from her seat several rows back. She offered a wave. Yet rather than return it, I sent her a knowing glare. I then watched on with slight satisfaction as she sank down in her seat and hid behind her bag of popcorn, before I returned my attention to the screen.

I finally allowed myself to relax as the movie began. Admittedly I had no idea what the premise of the film was, besides what was offered in the television previews. So for the first half hour or so, I simply sat there staring at the screen but not really taking anything in. I turned to Nate to see how he was faring and was surprised to see him rather engrossed in the scene that was playing out. I continued to stare until he turned away to look at me.

Second mistake.

"You're not getting any of this are you?" he whispered with a grin.

"What was your first clue?" I murmured back.

He chuckled at my response, but what he did next is what really got me.

Raising the cup holder that rested between us, he then slid closer to me, which caused just about every muscle in my body to immediately tense up. Luckily, Nate didn't seem to notice as he continued his actions. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he then leaned in and began to summarize the plot of the last few films.

"Okay, so now in this one…"

As I listened to Nate attempt to explain the plot of the current film, I found myself slowly relaxing into his touch. Soon enough, I actually zoned out as I had become somewhat entranced myself.

But not by the movie.

No. There was something about Nate's voice and cologne that was lulling me into some kind of haze. After a while it didn't even matter what he was saying, just as long as he kept talking and kept his arm in its current position.

Nearing the end of the film, Nate's commentary had long since ended, but I still found myself nestled into his body and his arm wrapped firmly around me. And as the credits rolled neither of us made any moves to change it. We remained that way until the rest of the theatre cleared out, at which point we finally caught each other's eye and shared shy smiles.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you are," I answer. I then stood up and we made our way up to Rachel, who was already standing by the exit waiting for us. Catching her eye, I resumed glaring at her. "When we get home young lady, you and I—"

"Hey, Rach, what'd you think of the movie?" Nate cut in as he led the way out of the building and back to his car.

"I loved it. And it was even better the third time around."

The third time around?

I then stared at my daughter curiously, as she moved to open the door to the backseat. At the very last minute, I noticed a familiar smirk spreading on her lips. And for the second time today, I found myself questioning just what my daughter was truly capable of.

-/-

"That was amazing! Can we go again?"

"Rachel. Honey. We've been on it three times already. Why don't we try something else," I suggest lightly.

I eye my daughter carefully, as she runs circles around me. Maybe that second cotton candy wasn't such a good idea, I reason, as I attempt to calm my child down. When I finally succeed in doing so, we continue our exploration of the fairgrounds.

We've been at the carnival for a little over an hour now. And if the grin on my daughter's face is anything to go by, she's having a great time. Walking slightly ahead of Nate and me, her eyes are wide and bright as she stops and points at just about everything from clowns to various games and potential rides that we're adding to the ever growing list of 'must rides'.

Oddly enough, Rachel isn't alone in her eagerness. Nate is just as excited.

Initially I'd thought that he was just playing along with Rachel, but after we rode the mini rollercoaster several times over, I'm convinced that he is genuinely happy to be here. The thought causes a smile to spread across my cheeks. My smile soon falters, however, as I watch my daughter run off towards yet another cotton candy stand. "Rachel," I groan desperately. "Get back here!"

Nate laughs, draping an arm loosely around my shoulders. "Shelby. The carnival's only in town twice a year. So stop being such a 'mom' and let Rachel have some fun."

Releasing a deep sigh, I nod at his suggestion, but in the back of my mind I begin to consider investing in one of those child leashes. Because if my daughter continues with her disappearing acts, I will have no problem attaching her to a retractable harness if it will allow me to know where she is at all times when we go out.

Despite my seriousness on the matter, however, my mind soon constructs an image of my fifteen year old in such a ridiculous getup and I release an unconscious laugh, causing Nate to look down at me. "You finally decide to loosen up, huh?"

I look at him incredulously as he walks off. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm loose."

"Yeah, okay," he says sarcastically over his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go find Rachel."

I furrow my brow but follow Nate's lead nonetheless. We eventually catch up to my daughter somewhere between the food stands and the Tilt-A-Whirl, another ride she wishes to try out. She's eating yet another cotton candy as she observes a few people playing "Hit or Miss", one of the many variations of a basketball game found at most carnivals and fairs. As the sound of bells and whistles explodes through the air announcing that a winner has been declared, I notice my daughter's knitted brow.

"What's wrong, Rach?" I ask, my concern more than evident.

My daughter shakes her head. "It's nothing, Mom. It's just that ever since I was younger I'd always wanted one of those unicorns. But Daddy's hand-eye coordination is even worse than mine," she explains with a wry smile, as she watches the booth worker hand off the plush toy to a young man. "Guess it was always just a dream of mine to get it one day. Crazy, huh?"

"No, Baby. Not crazy at all," I tell her softly. I'd offer to get it for her, if only to make at least one of her dreams come true. Unfortunately my hand-eye coordination is probably just as poor as hers. I hug her to my side and offer her a small smile. I'm about to recommend finding one of the rides she wished to get on as our next stop, when I see Nate step up to the booth. "Umm, Nate? What are you doing?"

"Making a dream come true." He smiles back at the pair of us, as he gives the worker a few bills and accepts the four basketballs. I continue to watch as he dribbles it a few times and analyzes the shot before throwing it towards the basket. I half expect it to be off, but am thoroughly surprised when it sails into the hoop with a perfect swish. I'm even further impressed when he pulls off the same shot once more. By the time he's grabbing the third ball, I'm smiling just as brightly as Rachel. And we're cheering excitedly when he sinks the last shot. A moment later he turns back to us, a large pink unicorn in hand, with a bright smile. "For the young lady."

Rachel happily accepts the stuffed animal. "Thanks, Nate!" she says with a dazzlingly smile as she examines her new toy.

"Anytime, Rachel."

I observe the scene before me, and I have to admit it's a little heartwarming. I continue to look on as Rachel proceeds to give Nate one of her crushing hugs and he takes it in stride. Before they can separate though I take a few steps back and pull out my camera, something I've begun carrying around a lot lately, and snap a picture. After I take it, I view the image and find my smile growing even further.

Definitely framing this one.

When I return my gaze upwards, I notice that Nate has stepped back up to the booth. Taking the few steps to return to my daughter's side, I then inquire as to what is going on.

"I asked Nate for another one," she answers casually. I stare down at my daughter as I watch her struggle to carry the one toy she's already received. I then think of the amount of stuffed animals that she's already got on either one of the beds at both of her homes. At the rate my daughter seems to collect these things, she will soon be sleeping on the floor. I then share my observation, causing her to laugh aloud. "It's not for me, Mom. I asked Nate to get it for you."

By the time I turn back to stop him, Nate has already collected on his prize for yet another amazing display of his athletic talent.

"For you," he says presenting me with a stuffed panda.

"You didn't have to, you know," I tell him quietly, as I accept the bear, "but thank you."

He shrugs. "Rachel thought it wouldn't be fair if I got her something but didn't do the same for you," he tells me. "Guess I couldn't have that on my conscience."

"I'll bet." I roll my eyes at his explanation, but smile anyway. "Alright, so what's next?" I quickly say to Rachel, in hopes of diverting her attention from the cart of candied apples that has just passed her way.

"Umm, how about the funhouse?"

-/-

Following the funhouse, the stunt show, the carousel, another go on the mini rollercoaster, the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Twisted Hall of Mirrors, we ventured to the bumper cars.

And after two rounds of bumper cars, I'm once again reminded of why Hiram and Leroy are so hesitant in offering Rachel driving lessons. If her maneuvering and driving skills are even remotely similar to what she did in the bumper car rink, I'd be wary, too.

And after witnessing with my own eyes just what I'd be dealing with, I can only pray that my sweet babygirl doesn't ask me for lessons any time soon.

As we're looking around for yet another ride to go on, Rachel's phone begins to ring. After reading over the messages she's received, she announces that her boyfriend and a few of the glee kids have just arrived at the carnival and were wondering if she wished to join them.

I give her a simple nod of consent and then take on the burden of carrying not only the unicorn she'd gotten from Nate, but also a plush basketball, a monkey and a hippo he'd subsequently won her sometime between the rollercoaster and the Tilt-A-Whirl. She's about to run off when she turns back to me with a pleading look on her face. "Is there a problem?"

"Could I possibly get some money? You know, just in case?"

I stare at my daughter skeptically. "What happened to the twenty dollars I gave you earlier?" I inquire. My daughter then offers me a coy smile and I'm reminded of the four, no, five cotton candies she's consumed so far.

Seeing as I'd rather she not eat anymore of the sugary substance, I'm about ready to decline until I notice a familiar glint in my daughter's eyes. And before my mind can even process what is going on, my hand is retrieving yet another twenty dollars from my pocket and handing it off to her. "You have an hour. It's getting late. And no more cotton candy."

"Just an hour?" Rachel protests with a pout.

"Fine. Two," I concede, with a sigh. "And text me every now and then so I know you're okay."

"I will. See you guys later," she yells over her shoulder before running off into the crowd.

I turn back to Nate and see him biting his lip, clearly holding back a laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I'll tell you later," he replies with a chuckle. "For now, though, I suggest we stop at the car. Because I don't think we're going to get too far carrying all of that stuff around."

I fully agree and so after quickly stopping by his car to deposit the armload of animals that we've acquired during our visit, we then make our way back into the carnival. Another stop at the closest food stand and we grab two cups of hot cider, in hopes of warding off the slight chill that has come in with nightfall.

Cider in hand, we continue our quiet adventure through the carnival.

The conversation is light, focusing more on idle observations around the fairgrounds as well as the varying background music that can be heard over the dozens of loudspeakers strategically placed around the area. At some point during our aimless wandering, I'm not even sure when, our arms become linked. Nate doesn't comment on it, so neither do I.

"Hey, how about we get on the Ferris wheel?"

I quirk an eyebrow and turn to stare at Nate when we stop in front of the popular attraction. "You hate heights."

"Yeah, but you don't," he tells me as he leads the way to the entrance of the queue. Due to the relatively short line, we're quickly ushered onto the ride. Soon enough we have reached the highest peak and are granted a view of the entire fairgrounds. And with the clear night sky, it's a pretty amazing sight.

Once I finish people watching, I settle back into the cart and turn to Nate. When I catch a glimpse of him, I'm thankful that he's doing okay. Prior to getting on, I'd recalled a memory from our youth when he'd gotten stuck in a tree after I'd dared him to climb it. I guess I should probably give him credit for getting over this particular phobia. And I'm about to when I spot him chewing on his lower lip. "Something on your mind?" I ask when I notice his pensive expression.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Rachel," he answers. When I furrow my brow he continues. "Guess I'm surprised at just how much you two really are alike. While the resemblance between you and her is extremely uncanny, it goes beyond your looks, vocal talent and your common interests."

I cock my head to the side and continue to stare at him. "How so?"

"Well." He chuckles. "You remember that time we got caught skipping class in ninth grade?"

I laugh at the memory. "You mean the time when you assured me we wouldn't get caught?" I reply with a grin. "Yeah, I remember. I thought our parents were going to kill us."

"Yeah, we did. But they didn't, did they," he comments just as the Ferris wheel resumes moving. "And do you remember why?" When I shake my head in confusion, he laughs. "You broke them down with your 'secret weapon'. No one could stay angry at you for long and you always got just about everything you wanted because of it. And it would seem that you've passed on that same attribute to Rachel as well."

Secret weapon? What secret weapon?

I think on it for a minute, blocking out the surrounding sounds. Summoning up the memory from the depths of my mind, I replay it in my head. My parents, as well as Nate's, had entered the office and found the two of us sitting before the principal's desk. After they'd been told of our wrong-doings, all four of them had been beyond irate. But I'd somehow managed to calm them, and even the principal, down. But how?

I continue to go over it in my head, eventually turning to Nate when I find myself at a loss. When I meet his eyes, I get a sudden flash.

I'd pouted!

I then begin to recall every moment in my youth when I hadn't gotten my way. Whether it was with my parents or my brother, I'd always turned on the charm and a smile. And if that didn't work, I always flashed them a good pout and before I knew it I'd gotten the puppy I'd wanted or the cookie that I was forbidden to have until after dinner.

"I don't believe it," I murmur as I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Next to me, Nate begins chuckling just as I start to recall every time Rachel has ever used "the pout" on me and I'm shocked by the number of times I come up with.

And just by today alone!

Time after time after time, my daughter has utilized her big brown eyes and her pout to her benefit and has gotten me to yield to her will.

"H-how—" I can barely formulate a thought as I'm still completely dumbfounded that for the past few months my daughter has successfully managed to manipulate me.

And without me even realizing it!

Oh, we will definitely be having a nice, long discussion about this…

"Like mother, like daughter, if you ask me," he says with a smirk.

Nate's comment causes me to raise my eyes and I fix him with a mock glare. "Oh shut up," I tell him, a smile just barely evident on my lips. As we exit the Ferris wheel though, I'm unable to contain my smile for much longer and we soon dissolve into a fit of laughs. Doubled over and out of breath, I eventually stand upright when the need for oxygen becomes necessary. I take several breaths, but a few laughs still escape as I think about it. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it, Shel," Nate tells me with a grin, draping an arm across my shoulders. "In essence, Rachel is you. Well almost. She tends to be a bit nicer to people. Maybe even a little quiet—hey!"

I smile and drop my arm after having elbowed him gently in the side at his playful insult. "I am nice to people! And I was only loud when it was necessary."

"Which was all the time," he says with a laugh, backing away slightly when I move to nudge him again. "Kidding. Just kidding."

We resume walking through the carnival. No particular direction in mind. Just walking. We soon come across a sideshow that features a group of juggling clowns and stop for a bit to join the growing crowd. In the distance I spot my daughter walking by with her boyfriend as well as a few of the glee kids. And while I'm glad she listened to me and is not eating another cotton candy, the candied apple that she appears to be sharing with her boyfriend causes me to groan.

Why didn't Hiram and Leroy even offer me a hint as to my daughter's sweet tooth?

"Hey, Shel?" I shake my head clear of my musings of the several dentist appointments that lay ahead in my daughter's future and look up to Nate. He's pointing to something behind us and when I turn to see what it is I spot a photo booth. "What do you think?"

I shrug and we make our way over to the booth. While it's certainly a little more modern than the ones that used to be at the carnival when I was younger, it's the same basic principle. Inserting a few bills, we step in and take a seat in the booth. Nate fiddles with the controls for a bit, choosing how many pictures we want and what not.

"You ready?"

I nod and he pushes the button to begin the countdown. When he settles back, I turn to see his face and witness as he contorts his features into the most absurd expression. He's sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes and I'm unable to stop the laugh that escapes my lips. Before I can straighten up, I see the blinding flash go off. I lift my head and look at the screen display for a preview of the picture.

"C'mon Shel. Have fun with it," he exclaims, when he realizes that he was alone in his antics. "We've only got three more, so let's make them count. No more letting me do all the work."

"Okay, okay." I attempt my best silly expression, pulling out my ears and crossing my eyes. "How's this?"

Nate chuckles. "Perfect. Alright you ready?"

Again he presses the button. And this time I'm looking at the camera. When the preview comes up, I'm shocked to see that I'm the only one making a fool of myself as Nate has resorted to simply smiling and raising bunny ears at the back of my head. I turn to him with a quirked eyebrow. "What happened to have fun with it?"

"It was fun," he tells me with a laugh. As I continue to glare at him, he raises his in surrender. "Okay, fine. No more silly ones. Last two will be serious."

"No more bunny ears?"

"You have my word," Nate insists, even raising his hand as if giving an oath.

We manage to get through the third photo without anymore high jinks from Nate. And after the stars clear from my vision, compliments of the blinding flash, I admire the latest picture that we've taken. I'd rested my head on Nate's shoulder and we were both looking straight ahead with bright smiles on our faces. As I continue to survey the screen, I'm reminded of the dozens of pictures that we'd taken as kids. Our bright smiles often belying our mischievous behaviors. As Nate sets up the camera for our fourth and final photo I'm also reminded of a picture that we'd taken back in high school.

We'd been sitting outside in the school courtyard and Tiffany Evans, a mutual friend of ours, needed a few more shots of the student body for the yearbook. Nate and I had agreed all for the sake of school spirit to have our pictures taken. Tiffany had positioned us so we were simply leaning into each other, with our arms wrapped around the other's shoulders. And we had remained that way as Tiffany readied her camera. But at the very last minute before the flash went off, Nate had turned his head and kissed my cheek. The resulting photo had always been a favorite for the both of us.

And given the rejuvenation of our friendship, I can't help feeling that a new picture to commemorate it would be more than appropriate. So as Nate settles back and the countdown begins, I wait for the very last minute to return the favor from so many years ago.

Unfortunately, it is only as the flash goes off, that I realize that Nate had the same idea. And despite the picture having been taken and the preview clearly being displayed before us, the kiss continues to go on. What's more, while my mind is urging me to pull back immediately, another part of me delays my reaction, preferring to prolong the intimate contact between Nate and I for just a bit longer.

So I, or should I say we, do. For at least two minutes.

Two long minutes.

Once my mind regains total control however, I hastily pull away, an act which results in me hitting my head against the wall of the booth.

"Ouch, dammit," I murmur. Slightly dazed from my recent minor injury, as well as the kiss, my gaze jumps between Nate's eyes and his lips, which up until a few seconds ago were tenderly pressed against my own.

"You okay?" Nate asks, reaching forward to inspect my head.

"Fine," I answer dismissively, moving just out of his reach, before slipping out of the booth. Rubbing the small bump that is still forming on my crown, I pace outside to attempt organizing my now rampant thoughts.

Why did I have to get all sentimental? Why did I ever go into that photo booth in the first place? And why did I kiss him? Better yet, why did he kiss me?

"Shelby?" Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Nate approaching me, pictures in hand. "I think we should probably ta—"

Fortunately before Nate can begin what I'm sure would become a very awkward conversation for the both of us, my ringing cell phone interrupts him. I quickly fish it out of my pocket and step away in order to take the call. "Hello?"

Hey, Mom. You guys ready?

"Umm, ready?"

To leave. You did say two hours, right?

"Yea. Yea, I did. Okay. We'll meet you by the car in a few minutes then."

Alright. See you in a few.

I end the call with my daughter and turn back to Nate. "It was Rachel," I tell him unnecessarily. "She's, uh, she's ready to go. She said she'll meet us by the car."

He nods and then despite all of the activity occurring around us, we are engulfed in an eerie silence. After several minutes of avoiding each other's gaze and observing the ground, Nate finally speaks up. "So…are we gonna talk about what happened in there?"

I sigh deeply before looking up at him. "Not now," I reply, looking away and maintaining my gaze in the distance, before turning away to start heading towards the parking lot. Before I can take a step though, Nate gently takes hold of my arm and stops me.

"Then when, Shelby?"

I look up into Nate's eyes and when the intensity becomes too much to handle, I look away. "I-I don't know," I mumble, before shaking free and walking off.

-/-

During the ride home, I keep my eyes trained outside the passenger window. Finding the white lines on the road and the passing buildings and trees more interesting than what is inside the vehicle.

Fortunately, the awkward silence that had ensued in the carnival doesn't follow us into Nate's car. And I suppose I have Rachel, and her sugar induced high, to thank for that.

Between giving a detailed account of everything that we'd done today, as well as telling how much she loved every minute of it, to the gossip and conversation that transpired between her classmates when she ran off, there hasn't been a silent moment. Consequently I can only hope that for the remaining ten minutes that it should take for us to get to my house that Rachel doesn't run out of things to say.

"…and then Kurt said something about rehearsals and how he doubts that we're going to get to put on our production. But then Tina told him to be quiet before he jinxed it. Then Finn and I got our palms read, which was fun I guess. I mean the fortune teller told me I was bound for fame and greatness, which I already knew. And it was good to hear my aspirations reaffirmed. But when I heard her say the same thing to Brittany, she kind of had me questioning her abilities as a psychic. Anyway, Quinn…"

As I continue to listen to my daughter forge on with her narrative, I look out of the corner of my eye to see Nate intently focused on the road. His brow is furrowed and his jaw is repeatedly clenching and relaxing. All tell-tale signs that he is probably just as confused and puzzled by what happened not too long ago. With another sigh, I settle my gaze back outside.

"…it was so much fun," Rachel finally concludes, leaning forward in between the two front seats and looking at the two of us. "So, what did you guys do?"

At my daughter's inquiry, my eyes widen and dart over to Nate, who is staring back at me, his eyebrows raised, as if he too is awaiting an answer. "Well, umm, we…"

"Not much. Rode the Ferris wheel, caught another show, grabbed some cider," Nate jumps in, once we stop at a red light. "Tried to get your mom to take a picture with me in one of those booths they had around, but she turned me down. Isn't that right, Shelby?"

I furrow my brow and stare back at Nate and then down into my daughter's expectant eyes. "Yeah, that's right. I thought we'd gotten enough pictures, so there was no need to have to pay for any."

Rachel nods. "Makes sense," she agrees, resting back in her seat, "although it would've been pretty cute if you'd gotten at least one done. Oh well, maybe next time."

"Yeah, next time," Nate affirms, still maintaining his pointed gaze on me.

I'm eventually saved from his continued stare down when the light changes color and Nate is forced to return his gaze to the road. However, seeing as Rachel has seemingly run out of things to talk about, I still have the deafening silence to contend with.

So in order to counter it, and not be left to sort out my thoughts, I opt to turning on the radio.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it show

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Before the song can continue, I hastily hit the 'next' button and continue channel surfing until choosing yet another station at random.

I look at you, you look at me

You can't tell me you ain't feeling butterflies

It's obvious there's some chemistry

I think I know why it feels so right

This time, Nate saves me the trouble and changes the song himself via the controls on the steering wheel.

In the midst of this nothing

This miss of life

Still there's this wanting

Just to see you go by

Forgoing searching for a new station, I opt to turning off the radio, much to my daughter's chagrin. Apparently, she really likes the song I've just cut off. And after refusing to return to the previous station, or even turning the radio back on, Rachel settles down in the back seat with an angry huff. Truth be told, I'd hate to have my daughter be upset with me over something so trivial.

However I'm more than willing to overlook such a frivolous disagreement, mainly because I really don't think I can handle the overload of love songs that is battering the airwaves and my uneasy conscience.

And while I have never believed in coincidences, at the moment, I find that I may soon change my stance. What with the events that have transpired in the past few weeks between Nate and me. The phone calls, the lunch 'outings'. All this time I'd thought of it as just a restoration of our past friendship. But that kiss has me thinking otherwise.

Because friends don't kiss.

I continue to go over everything in my head, breaking down every outing that we've been on and every conversation that we've had. My thoughts are soon disrupted when I begin to hear music. I look around curiously for a bit, even checking the radio to be sure I'd turned it off. It doesn't take me long to realize that what I'm hearing is simply Rachel's way of compensating with the absence of the radio. For the next few minutes, I listen as my daughter entertains herself by humming various songs from her favorite musicals as well as TV shows.

I roll my eyes at her actions but let it slide. Since I've gotten to know Rachel, I've learned that she can be a bit dramatic when she isn't getting her way. Furthermore after my conversation with Nate earlier, I'm no longer surprised because it is like he said: like mother, like daughter. And seeing as my child is basically emulating my own past behavior, I can't really admonish her for something she could very well have inherited from me.

Although, that doesn't mean I have to like it, I reason as she begins to hum through a rendition of It's A Hard-Knock Life.

As we pull into my neighborhood, however, Rachel begins humming a different tune. One that sounds vaguely familiar, but despite my best attempts, I'm unable to place it.

My daughter continues to hum the unknown melody even as we approach the house and Nate pulls into the driveway. As we're getting out of the car, I furrow my brow because I'm still unable to place the song. And I'm even about to ask my daughter what it is she's humming, when I hear her begin to sing under her breath.

There you see her, sitting there across the way

She don't got a lot to say but there's something about her

And you don't know why, but you're dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl

Pursing my lips, I shake my head and roll my eyes before turning to look at my child. "Rach—"

"Well…thanks for a great afternoon, Nate," she announces, effectively cutting through my statement. She then moves to grab all of the stuffed animals, mine included, from the trunk and races to the front door, struggling the entire way. "And thanks so much for all my prizes. I love all of them."

I watch as Nate, who has made his way around from his side of the car to my side, offers my daughter a smile and a wave. "Well, I'm glad you had fun, Rachel," he replies. "You need any help wi—"

"No, I'm fine, I can handle these," she assures him. "I'm just going to get inside and leave you two to, umm, talk. I've gotta go call my dads anyway. So…bye!"

"Rach—" Again my reprimand is interrupted as my daughter has entered the house and slammed the door behind her. Expelling a sharp breath through my nose, I bite my bottom lip. This was not how I planned on ending my evening. At all. And considering how well the day had started, I'm surprised that this is how it has managed to come to a close.

Another breath and I begin to formulate my escape route. Looking to the front door, I nod. I suppose I'd feel better talking to Nate on my territory. At the same time, I really have no desire to talk to Nate whatsoever and if I am to follow my daughter's lead I could effectively avoid the conversation altogether. Seeing as he can't really attempt to talk to me if I disappear into my house.

My escape route in mind, I say a quick "goodbye and goodnight" over my shoulder to Nate, who I know is now standing directly behind me and aim to make a beeline for the porch steps.

Alas, my evasion is thwarted as Nate once again grabs a hold of me. This time, though, he takes a hold of my hand. Squeezing it gently, he pulls me back and spins me around so that I am now facing him. "We need to talk."

"Really? What about?" I ask hesitantly. Frankly, I don't think we have anything to talk about. Because as far as I'm now concerned, what happened was a fluke.

An accident. A mishap. An unfortunate event that occurred and will most certainly not be happening again.

When I look up, Nate cocks his head and blatantly stares back at me, causing my hopes of avoiding this conversation to cease. "Look, Nate, what happened was just an accident. It wasn't supposed to happen, obviously. So let's just chalk it up to a lapse of judgment on both sides along with a resurgence of residual feelings that found their way to the surface. We can just forget about it, okay?" I watch Nate as he considers my proposition, clearly not liking a word of it. But he nods nonetheless. "Good."

Then, like Rachel, I too express my thanks for a great afternoon and again proceed to head for the porch. As I'm approaching the front door, I'm stopped by Nate. This time he just calls out my name. I turn in time to see him join me on the porch.

"You forgot these," he tells me pulling something out of his pocket. When his hand finally emerges, I notice a strip of paper and when he passes it over I realize that it's the pictures that we'd taken earlier. I force myself to not look at the last photo, but it's the first one my eyes dart to. And I have to admit, it's not that bad.

"We look good."

"Yeah, we do," I say absentmindedly. Upon realizing what I just agreed with, I tear my eyes away from the photo. "Nate—" My eyes then widen considerably as I watch him take a step closer to me and we are only a mere few inches apart. "Didn't I just say—"

"We have an audience," he says quietly, tilting his head to the side, indicating the front windows.

Out of the corner of my eye, I witness the curtains fall back into place, causing me to release a low chuckle and shake my head. To my surprise, however, Nate continues to step even closer to me. I take a slight step back and stare at him curiously. "W-what are you doing?"

"Having a lapse in judgment," he says softly before closing the distance between us and placing his lips against my own.

Unlike the kiss back at the carnival, this one is more chaste and less awkward and rushed. It's gentle and warm. Unfortunately, it's also shorter. I conceal a low groan of disappointment when he eventually backs away, a bright smile on his face. I blink rapidly, hoping to clear my mind of the haze that has settled, before looking back up at him.

"How about this," he murmurs, resting his forehead on my own. "I promise to forget about the kiss in the photo booth, if you promise to think about this one." Gulping nervously, I nod, not as yet trusting myself to verbalize a response. "Good. I'll talk to you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," I say softly.

I then watch as he steps off the porch and walks back to his car. Offering me one last wave before getting in, he pulls out of the driveway and disappears around the corner. Leaving me on my porch, stunned and baffled and yet oddly quite warm, despite the growing chill in the air. When the haze finally clears I enter my home and head straight for my bedroom, deciding to check on Rachel after I've had a shower and chance to gather my wits.

Emerging from my bedroom nearly twenty minutes later, I approach my daughter's room and gently knock on her door.

"Come in," I hear her call out faintly. When I enter, I find her sitting by her desk in her pajamas, setting her cell phone to charge. "Dad and Daddy say hi. They're glad that we had such a great time. They also said that you should bring Nate to dinner one of these days. They would really like to meet him."

I nod and then smile when I witness my daughter yawn deeply. I was beginning to wonder when she'd crash from all of that sugar.

"Bedtime, babygirl," I tell her, holding out my hand for her to take.

"But it's only nine-thirty," she complains. Despite her protest, she doesn't hesitate in taking my hand and allowing me to lead her to her bed. She doesn't even put up much of a fight when I guide her to lie down. "And we have so much to talk about. And I'm not even tired!"

I quirk an eyebrow when yet another yawn makes its way past her lips. "It's been a long day, Hon. Besides…we can always talk tomorrow," I tell her quietly, as I pull the blankets up and tuck them in snugly around her.

"You promise?" she asks me drowsily.

"I promise."

"Okay," she mutters tiredly, before her eyes flutter closed. "G'nite, Mom."

"Goodnight, Baby." Dropping a kiss in her hair, I move to the door and flip the light switch. I'm just about to pull the door closed when Rachel calls out to me. "What's up, Rach?"

"Nate's a really nice guy, Mom. I like him."

I watch my daughter fondly for a moment as she cuddles with the hippo that Nate gave her this afternoon before slowly pulling the door closed.

Me too, Rach. Me too.

-PA-

When Monday morning rolls around, I find that I'm still in somewhat of a daze. Considering I had utilized my "day off" on Friday to clean the house, I was ultimately left with nothing to do on Sunday but to check my daughter's homework, the very little she had, as well as to think over what Nate and I had previously, uh, discussed.

And think it over I did. Overly so at that.

Truthfully, I think I spent most of the morning pacing in my room and staring down at the stuffed panda that my daughter had strategically placed in the center of my bed the night before. And after several hours of mulling it over, I actually began to consider any and all possible outcomes of Nate and me taking our friendship to another level.

And I had to admit, that it wouldn't be all that bad.

So when Nate called me last night, I told him just such. However, before he could say anything further, I requested some more time to think on it. Fortunately he understood the few reasons behind my reluctance about the whole thing and said that we could talk further whenever I felt ready.

So as I enter Carmel High, I find I'm still wondering as to just when that might be.

Pushing the thought aside, I head straight for the main office. However just as I am about to enter, Janie seemingly appears out of nowhere and drags me down the hall and into my own office.

"Well 'good morning' to you too," I mutter sarcastically when she finally releases my arm, placing me in front of my desk before running back to the door and locking it. I continue to watch her curiously as she peeks cautiously through the window blinds.

Knowing Janie, this impromptu meeting is probably just to catch me up on any juicy gossip I may have missed out on last week. And normally I have no problems with these chats. But since I genuinely have things to do, I see no reason to dawdle with idle conversation. "Something going on, Janie?" I inquire indifferently, as I place my belongings onto my desk and remove my coat.

Once sure that there's no one creeping outside my door, she eventually turns away and stares at me disbelievingly. "Actually, Shel, I was hoping you could tell me."

Huh?

I quirk an eyebrow at her statement and move to grab a few necessary items from a nearby filing cabinet. "If this is about me calling out on Friday, I guess I just needed a day to myself. It was nothing serious. You take personal days all the time."

"Is that all it was Shelby?"

At her tone, I cease searching for the desired folders and turn back to face her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Janie persists, disregarding my own question. "Anything at all."

Shutting the drawer of the filing cabinet, I cross my arms and lean against it as I continue to stare at Janie. I really don't think I've ever seen her like this. She looks worried and agitated. Anxious, really. And I can think of no piece of information that would evoke such emotions in my colleague, and dare I say it, friend. "Janie, what's going on?"

"I heard some stuff in the break room this morning," she says carefully. My eyes follow her as she commences pacing along the length of my office and wringing her hands. "Shelby I-I heard…things. About you…"

Well that's nothing new.

Every year there's at least two rumors floating around about me. Amongst students and faculty alike. My second year here I was deemed a closeted lesbian because I flat out refused to accept any propositions made by the male faculty, despite their persistence.

And they were persistent.

To be honest though, it had nothing to do with their looks or personalities, because I probably would have had a wonderful time with one or two of them. However, partaking in any romantic relationships with fellow faculty tends to get troublesome and as much fun as I might have had, it wouldn't have been worth possibly losing my job over. So I'd let each of them down. Gently, of course.

For the most part, anyway.

But as I look more intently on Janie, I realize that there's more to this conversation that either I'm not catching on to or that she has yet to share. "Janie? What is it?" I step closer to her and cock my head so as to look into her downturned eyes. "What did you hear?"

Janie nervously begins chewing on her lip as she does her best to avoid my gaze. Eventually though, she does look up at me. "Shelby, I consider you a friend, I do. So please just remember that I am only the messenger here and I'm only relaying what I heard…"

I roll my eyes. "Janie, just spit it out."

"Okay, okay," she mumbles. "Umm…is it true that you—that you…"

"That I what?"

"IsittruethatyouhitDustin," she rambles. "There…I said it."

"What?" I ask, completely baffled.

"I said—"

I wave her off. "No, I heard what you said," I say, quickly interjecting. I once again raise my hand when I notice Janie about to say something else and effectively silence her.

I hit Dustin?

I'd barely laid a hand on him! And when I did, it was purely to protect Rachel.

But how did Janie find out?

Well that's easy. Clearly, Dustin had to have said something about our little encounter, seeing as I literally just got here and I highly doubt Rachel took the time out of her schedule on Friday to show up at Carmel simply to make such an announcement to the entire Carmel faculty.

Returning my attention to Janie I instruct her to tell me everything. And she does. Maintaining a safe distance between us the entire time, as if afraid that I may take out whatever anger that may result on her, the innocent bystander. When she finally concludes her story, I move behind my desk and take a seat.

Biting my lower lip, I realize that the one outcome I'd feared has apparently come to fruition. Which leaves me to simply do a little damage control and straighten everything out. A job that while certainly tedious, may not be as difficult as I'd previously perceived. I mean if everyone thinks I just hit Dustin, maybe I could dispel it by saying we only had a minor argument during glee club. And the only attacks that were exchanged had been purely verbal.

Then again.

With no mention of Rachel or the exact details of the entire conversation, my personal life as well as the secret of my daughter's identity, remains intact. And if a rumor saying that I hit Dustin will keep such a secret, then I will have no problems letting it continue to circulate.

However if word does get to my boss, I may have to explain how such a rumor got started in the first place.

Even so.

Maybe such a rumor is just what is needed to get his attention. After all, he hasn't as yet caught on to the fact that Dustin and I are most certainly not the so-called 'dream team' that he'd anticipated. But when he does finally see that, then maybe he'll finally return what is rightfully mine. Full directorial control of Vocal Adrenaline.

So as I silently begin to weigh my options, I soon realize that either way could work in my favor. It's a win-win situation, really. And those are certainly odds I don't mind. Not one bit.

I say goodbye to Janie as she leaves my office, her confused expression no doubt brought on by the small smile that is gracing my lips. After a quick look at my watch, I gather my notes and head out to get started on my day. I disregard the blatant stares directed at me as I journey to my classroom, preferring to bask in the realization that maybe things are going to start going my way.

-/-

Nearing the end of the day, I'm sitting in my office going over my students' in-class essays when the phone begins to ring. Grabbing hold of it, I cradle it between my ear and shoulder as I continue to read through Jeff Townson's thesis statement. "Shelby Corcoran."

Hey there Shelby. Do you have a minute? I was hoping I could speak with you.

Dropping my pen, I focus my attention wholly on the lengthy conversation I'm sure I'm about to have with my boss. "Hey, Bill. What did you wish to speak about?"

Actually I was hoping if you could join me in my office in say…twenty minutes?

"Sure. See you then," I reply. I don't bother checking my watch. Seeing as it is the last period of the day, and my only free one, I'm pretty sure I can find time in my 'busy' schedule to speak to Bill. I mean it's not like I haven't been anticipating a conversation or meeting of sorts. Truth be told, it was never a matter of if it was going to happen, just more of when. After confirming the time with Bill once more, I hang up the phone.

I then gather up the essays and decide I'll resume looking them over at home. Placing them into my briefcase, I then retrieve my cell phone from my purse and send out a quick text to Rachel asking her to tell Will that I may be a little late to Rocky Horror rehearsal this afternoon. She soon responds with a simple 'OK' followed by 'This had better not become a habit', causing me to chuckle.

Initially I had thought that my insisting to be present for my daughter's musical rehearsals may cause her a bit of embarrassment. After all, she would be the only member whose parent would be present for most, if not all, of the practices. And I wasn't sure if she'd approve of me constantly being in attendance.

But having spoken to Rachel about this yesterday, I was proven wrong. Rachel was excited to have me there. She reasoned that my wanting to be there only proved to further establish my dedication to being present in her life and it would offer her yet another opportunity to flaunt her "innate talents".

Additionally, she couldn't think of a better person to critique her abilities.

Actually her exact words were: 'If I can't take constructive criticism from my own mom, how am I ever going to be able to take the critical reviews that will no doubt be written about my early performances in the duration of Broadway career." And who was I to argue with that.

So, replacing my phone in my purse, I spend the next few minutes organizing my desk. As the time for my meeting draws closer, I make my way out of my office and into the hall. It doesn't take me long to arrive at the main office and when I do, I inform Bill's secretary that I have an appointment with him.

"He's been expecting you, Ms. Corcoran," she tells me. "Go right on in."

I offer her a smile in thanks and then walk around her desk to approach Bill's door. Taking hold of the handle, I take a deep breath and brace myself for what lies on the other side. Assuming that the rumor made its way to Bill's ears by now, which I'm almost positive it has, I can fully expect to have some explaining to do. And I'm fully prepared to present my side of the story and I've got a rather believable explanation ready as well. But it's not speaking to Bill that suddenly has me tense. Rather it's the other occupant who will most likely be inside as well.

Because if Bill summoned Dustin to this meeting, it will be the first time I'm seeing my co-coach since Thursday's incident. And despite the passing of time, I am just realizing that I still have some lingering resentment bottled up within me. So expelling another deep breath, I do my best to push aside the image of Rachel being gripped by Dustin before I open the door.

When I step inside, though, I'm slightly relieved to find only Bill. "Ah, Shelby. Right on time," he comments.

I don't bother responding, preferring to keep my expression impassive. Taking a seat before his desk, I settle back in the chair, crossing my legs and intertwining my fingers before resting them in my lap. My eyes remaining trained on Bill.

When a few moments of absolute silence goes by, however, I feel a sense of consternation. But it has nothing to do with the meeting that has yet to take place. Instead it has more to do with the fact that we've been sitting here for several minutes and neither of us has said a word. And having never been a fan of awkward silences, I decide to take it upon myself to say something. "Bill—"

"Just a minute," he tells me calmly.

-Mr. Richards. Your two o'clock appointment is here.-

"Thank you, Kathleen. Send her in."

Her?

Completely perplexed now as to just what is going on, I try my best to contain my growing curiosity and maintain my gaze forward. And as I hear the door open and I watch Bill stand to greet the newest occupant, it becomes an uphill battle because it literally takes everything in me to not turn around. Just when I feel my resolve about to break down, I'm saved the trouble when Bill makes his way around his desk to greet his visitor.

"Vivienne," he says brightly. "As always it's a pleasure."

Vivienne? As in Vivienne Montgomery? The richest and most active donor to Carmel's booster club?

I eventually turn my head and catch sight of her. Despite being in her early sixties, she looks closer to mid-forties, considering she lacks the wrinkles that usually distinguish sexagenarians. Her dark, almost onyx-colored hair is neatly pulled back into a tight bun, with not a grey hair in sight, and her makeup is so light I think it's fair to assume that it was professionally done. And she's elegantly dressed in a tailored navy Armani suit.

As always, she's the absolute epitome of a businesswoman and considering her immense wealth, I expect nothing less.

"Shelby, I'm sure you remember, Ms. Montgomery?" I hear Bill say, with a sense of warning.

"Yes." Plastering on a smile, I stand and turn to face them. "It's good to see you, Vivienne."

"Shelby," she says curtly before handing off her coat to Bill and taking a seat in the other available chair. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead clench my jaw as I attempt to contain my disdain for this woman. Meanwhile, I'm mentally counting down from twenty to one.

See, Vivienne and I haven't always seen eye to eye.

Actually that's not entirely true. We've never seen eye to eye.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I can say with the utmost certainty that she doesn't like me very much. And that is all to do with the fact that I'm probably the only member of the Carmel faculty that doesn't bow down and acquiesce to her every whim and demand. I mean I certainly show her respect, seeing as my parents were adamant in instilling in my brother and me a strict sense of etiquette, conduct and manners, but that's about it. Unlike my peers, I refuse to disregard my own morals and ideas simply because Vivienne says so.

The greatest example of Vivienne imposing her will on Carmel would be best explained through the construction of a new wing two years ago.

Now, considering it had been her money that paid for the much needed addition, I fully understood the school board expressing its gratitude by accepting her request to name it after her. That seemed reasonable enough.

What I didn't understand, however, was her demand that the library also be renamed in her honor.

I, along with majority of the Carmel faculty, was slightly thrown when the announcement had been made nearing the end of the school year. After all, she had only paid for the addition. Not the library. So for her to even think that the school board would accept her terms seemed rather brazen.

Needless to say any complaints or reservations anyone had were immediately dismissed after Vivienne made yet another sizeable donation to the district. As a result, I now pass not only the Vivienne L. Montgomery Library every day on my way to my office but glee rehearsals are conducted in the Montgomery Pavilion.

But while I certainly have no control nor influence over what happens with Carmel on a whole, up until a few weeks ago I did have complete control over the glee club. And five years ago, Vivienne had the gall to approach me with a few of her suggestions.

The first had been to hire a composer because she didn't feel that I was qualified enough to arrange Vocal Adrenaline's music. As it was only my second year teaching, and my first as VA's coach, I accepted any and all criticisms without complaint or retort.

Just as I was ordered to do by my boss.

However as practices went on, I soon realized that while I was the coach, it was in name only. Because everything else went through Vivienne. I put up with it for nearly two months before approaching Bill. The next day I politely approached Ms. Montgomery and told her that her composer's services were no longer needed. She was bothered by it, but accepted my wishes. Afterwards, things between us remained amicable.

They didn't remain that way, however. Because last year Vivienne intervened again. But that time without my knowing.

Again she doubted my abilities. But as a choreographer. As a result, she hired Dakota Stanley and had him work with my kids. And this time, not only did I not approve, but neither did my students.

Nor their parents for that matter.

The kids' voices and bodies were being severely overworked as well as my nerves and patience during my brief working relationship with the diminutive dancer. This time it only took a week before I interceded on the team's behalf.

Only this time I wasn't so polite. I'd eventually told Vivienne, in not so many words, that she should probably keep her suggestions and recommendations to herself and that I would run the team as I saw fit.

Unsurprisingly, she hadn't been too pleased about that. But I frankly could have cared less. I didn't need her help nor had I requested it.

Inhaling a sharp breath and releasing it slowly, I turn back and return to my recently vacated seat. Keeping my previous poker face, I wait for Bill to begin the meeting so I can get a clue as to what the hell it could possibly be about.

"Shelby?" At the mention of my name, I raise my gaze to Bill's eyes. "I'm sure you've heard some of the things that have been said around school today pertaining to a certain…altercation. And while I certainly want to know your side of the story, that is not the main purpose of this meeting. Just a part of it. I suppose, if you wanted, you could call this an intervention of sorts."

"An intervention?"

"Yes, Shelby," Vivienne states, causing me to turn to face her. "An intervention."

"And just what is it that you're intervening in or with?" I inquire, my gaze steadily jumping between the both of them before settling on Bill.

"Vocal Adrenaline." At Bill's response, I settle back into my seat with a slight smile. Well it's about time. "Shelby. We, that is, the boosters and I, have been hearing, as well as noticing, things…"

Took you long enough.

"…see when we offered Dustin the position of co-coach, we had no idea that so many problems would arise as a result of it. Fraternizing with rival schools. Provoking arguments. Neglecting students. All of these measures are immature. Irresponsible, even. And certainly not behavior befitting of a head coach…"

I couldn't agree more.

"So it's with all that in mind Shelby that we thought we'd attack the problem head on and speak with you directly about the issue."

I continue nodding in agreement. "I'd be willing to answer any questions you may have regarding the matter."

"That's good to hear, Shelby. Because we're worried…about you."

I slowly cease my nodding and furrow my brow in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've heard various reports, from a reliable source, of you skipping out on glee practice, talking with the glee coach over at McKinley, instigating arguments. And all around neglecting your Vocal Adrenaline duties on a whole."

What the hell! My jaw drops and I'm gaping, as I am completely shocked and appalled at just what I'm hearing. "Where—what—" I stop and take a moment to reel in my thoughts. "Who is this 'reliable source', exactly?"

"I'm not at liberty to—"

"My son," Vivienne interjects firmly.

"Your son?" I repeat dumbly. I quickly go through the Vocal Adrenaline roster in my head. None of my students has Montgomery as a surname. Nor have any of them ever expressed any relationship to the family. Which causes me to question how legitimate this source really is. "And just who is that, Vivienne?"

"Dustin."

In a matter of moments, the entire world comes to a screeching halt, leaving me dazed and utterly confused. Actually, it feels like I've just been told the punch line to a joke that everyone but me finds funny.

I sit back into my seat stunned into silence and allow myself a chance to process everything I've learned in the past few minutes alone.

Dustin is Vivienne's son. Meaning his employment was no accident. It wasn't even a coincidence. In fact, his very presence here at Carmel is probably some elaborate scheme, purported by Vivienne no less, to once again get her way.

As I continue to analyze everything, I soon find that I'm growing angry. Not only at Dustin for his blatant lies, but also at Bill and even Vivienne for believing them. After all, she of all people should know that my dedication to Vocal Adrenaline is unquestionable. She'd been my main opponent and biggest obstacle for the past five years, for chrissake!

"Shelby?" Pulling myself from thoughts, I look up to Bill and notice for the first time that he's frowning. "We've also heard that you have a daughter."

Doing my best to keep my temper in check, I stare back at Bill through enraged, half-lidded eyes. "That's none of your business," I say, my calm tone belying the anger and contempt I currently feel.

"Your personal life is affecting your work ethic, which makes it our business," Vivienne counters, causing me to turn to her slowly. "And if this illegitimate child of yours that has just resurfaced—"

"How dare—"

"Now Shelby," Bill hastily intercedes, making his way around his desk to stand between Vivienne and me.

Bill attempts to calm me down, as I had also jumped up, and even knocked over the chair in my haste to correct Vivienne on her terminology regarding my daughter. He picks up the seat and sets it right before guiding me back into it. I refuse however because I don't see myself sitting in on this meeting much longer. I have no desire to remain seated or to even listen to another word of supposed information that Dustin has been feeding them.

Additionally I really don't want to do, or say, something that I may very well regret.

So, I shift my gaze to the ceiling and expel a deep breath, in hopes of calming myself down. When I finally regain control of my emotions, I find a focal point behind Bill on the far wall. "So what are you going to do?"

The answer either of them gives me is inconsequential. As I already know exactly how I plan to rectify this situation.

"The board hasn't decided as yet," Vivienne replies primly. "I plan to call an emergency meeting with them this Wednesday in order to discuss the issue."

I nod. "Well then, allow me to save you the trouble," I begin, looking to the both of them levelly, so they can understand the importance of what I'm about to tell them. "As of today, I am no longer the coach and director of Vocal Adrenaline. Consider this my two week's notice, if you will. The board can expect to receive a formal letter of resignation in the morning."

With intentions of going home and getting started on said letter, I then turn on my heel and ready myself to make my leave.

"Let's not be too hasty," Bill exclaims, moving to stand directly before me and thus prevent me from leaving. "Shelby. Don't you think you're being a bit irrational?"

I continue to stare Bill down, this time however I do not hold back the resentment in my eyes. "Irrational. You think I'm being irrational?" I release a low, self deprecating laugh. "You blindsided me with a new, unwanted assistant. And a few weeks into the job, you promoted him to coach. But I'm being irrational." I scoff and turn to Vivienne. "And you? You, and your precious board, let him recruit a member from a rival school and I'm being irrational."

I then take a step forward until I am towering over Vivienne, staring down at her so she can experience all of my fury through my gaze alone. "Your son manhandles my teenage daughter and when I step in to keep her out of harm's way like a responsible parent should, I'm being irrational!"

"Shel—"

"Shut up, Bill." I lean down slightly and focus my gaze intently on Vivienne. "I'm done with you. All of these years, you've wanted control of the glee club. Well guess what? You can have it. I no longer want, nor do I need, the responsibility or the added stress."

Returning to my full height, I turn back to the door and run into Bill who is still blocking my path. "Move, Bill."

"Shel—"

"I said move."

"Shelby, I think we should all ta—"

"Bill. As far as I'm concerned there's nothing to talk about. You both wanted Dustin to take Vocal Adrenaline to Regionals, right? So let him take them to Regionals. And then Nationals. As a matter of fact, he can take them to hell for all I care. And you lot can all go with him. You, Vivienne and your damn booster club. Because I quit."

And with that I make my exit.

Stopping by my office, I quickly grab all of my belongings, haphazardly packing various papers and such into my briefcase. Pulling on my coat, I storm out and slam the door behind me. I'm halfway to the front entrance of the school, when Dustin steps out from a nearby classroom and blocks my path.

"Shelby, Shelby, Shelby," he murmurs, shaking his head, his confident smirk firmly in place.

Honestly, I have nothing more to say to him and if he thinks he can bait me into one last argument, he's got another thing coming.

So, I completely disregard his comment and move to sidestep around him, intent on getting the hell out of the building. He doesn't let me however because as I move to go around him, he takes a single step to block my path again.

Releasing a deep sigh in annoyance, I look to the ceiling before settling my gaze over Dustin's shoulder and to the front entrance of the building which is really no more than ten feet away from me. "Move, Dus—"

"I just heard the news," he interjects, his tone reminiscent not only of last week Thursday, but also of our very first disagreement.

Arrogant. With a touch of over confidence.

"It'll be a shame to see you go." I don't bother responding and instead move to go around him. Once again, though, he steps into my path. "Before you go, can you do me a favor?"

I roll my eyes. After everything he's put me through, he wants a favor! "What is it, Dustin?"

"Could you tell Rachel I said 'hi'?"

My previous feelings of absolute rage and fury from not only the meeting I left only minutes ago, but also from the previous week quickly surface. Dropping my briefcase at my side, I take two menacing steps towards him until I am no more than a few inches away.

"Shelby, didn't I tell you this wasn't over?" he says snidely, as he stares at me.

He is still wearing that egotistical smirk of his. And as I stand there glaring back at him, I feel the sudden urge to wipe the damn thing off of his face.

So I do.

With a small smile, I look to the ground where Dustin is currently sprawled out. Pursing my lips, I bend down to retrieve my briefcase. Right before standing up, though, I angle my head to look into his eyes. He's currently struggling to sit up, apparently still quite dazed from the impact of my fist against his jaw.

"It's over, Dustin, when I say it's over," I say coolly, before standing up and stepping over him.

I calmly make my way to the door and push down on the handle. I don't exit right away though. Instead, I turn back and as I'd hoped Dustin's eyes are still focused on me. Shooting him an unwavering glare, I offer him my own version of that over confident smirk of his.

"And trust me. It's over."

Whew...alright then. I sure hope I didn't disappoint you guys too much. Several of you wanted Dustin dead, lol. But I couldn't kill him because he does play an integral part in the story. So I had to settle for the next best thing. Sorry guys :(

Just outta curiosity is there anyone who actually feels bad for Dustin?

(Once again there are a few references, not limited to Idina this time around btw. So good luck!)

Anyway you guys know the drill...
Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh?

Review and let me know.
I love hearing from you guys :)