Author's Note: Hello! This is Aries-Dreamer, also known as Chi-chi-chi. I am a big fan of Glee and therefore am a Gleek. I also happen to be a slash shipper, even though I do turn my attention to heterosexual couplings. My favorite pairings for this show, so far, are Quick (Quinn and Noah P.), Finchel (Finn and Rachel), Asian Fusion (Mike C and Tina C-C) as well as Bartie (Brittany and Artie), Brittana (Brittany and Santana) and last, but not least, Hevans (Sam E. and Kurt H.). I also enjoy reading Klaine (Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson).
For this particular story I was hoping to explore the desires, wishes and dreams of the characters and how our views of the show affect how we, as writers, characterize them. I saw this story a while ago and I really liked it but it hadn't updated in a very long time. Like any loyal fanfiction fan, I asked the author if she planned on continuing her work with this story and, if not, if she would allow me to pick up where she left off.
Thankfully, she said yes, and here we are! The first chapter of Chi-Chi-Chi's version of Thirteen Ghost. This is a collaboration so the original author: particularly good finder, still influences the plotline.
I really do hope you enjoy this. Constructive Criticism is wanted/needed.
This story is best read in the 3/4 Format. Look at the upper-right corner of the screen and adjust the formatting to your liking.
Keep your cool.
Not too straight.
Don't slump too much though.
He hadn't been stuffed into a locker or tripped up. No one pelted him with eggs or covered him shaving cream. All he had to do was survive lunch, and then study hall. After that he was home free. The jocks he had met in the hall had approved of his Buckeyes t-shirt., and there were some attractive girls around his English classroom that had given him the once-over. If he kept an average-to-low profile he could avoid the hazing other freshmen were unfortunately subjected too. At the very least, he was happy that he hadn't run into–
"Hey there, shrimp!" Manicured hands ruffled the boy's blond locks as he rounded the corner of a hallway, trying to make his way to the cafeteria.
"Amanda –leave my hair alone– people can see you!" Samuel Evans swatted his sister's hands away from his head, while the girl merely laughed at him.
Amanda Evans smiled mischievously at her younger brother. She pulled him along the crowded hallway by the shoulder, reveling in the pink shades covering his cheeks slightly. The Evans family was a bit of an institution in McKinley, at least among the teachers. Samuel Evans graduated form William McKinley High School, as did his eldest daughter: Magdalene. After that it would be Amanda, and then Samuel Jr.
"You care way too much what these people think, Sammy."
"That's easy for you to say. You're respected without even trying."
"Who needs the respect of these losers anyways?" Sam's green eyes met Amanda's as the two had a silent battle of ideals, which only lasted until they reached the cafeteria line.
Amanda was class president, president of the Future Business Leaders Club and treasurer of the A.V Club. She wore dark rim glasses and often talked about Doctor Who or Mythbusters with her other high school friends. However, she was labeled a 'geek', 'nerd' or 'dork'. Sam once thought that it was due to her status as a black belt in aikido. She just broke the mold. She made jocks laugh, and sci-fi nerds feel important. The cheerleaders never had it out for her, because she had never had it out for them. No one really knew why, but Amanda would always say the same thing:
"Stupid people bow to legacies, Sammy. High School is just a hive-mind of stupidity."
Would it help people to see the younger Evans with her? No. Hell no. Why? Well, everyone knew that hanging out with sibling on the firs day because you had absolutely no where to go to was as pathetic as it could get. You had to forge your way during that first week of school. You had to find your own cliques, pick the one you liked the best, and conform, conform, conform! Not try to mooch off a family member's 'success'. As vain, stupid and ridiculous as it was, it was a fact in little old Lima, Ohio. Conformity meant acceptance.
Who wanted to be different if meant you'd be put through the wringer over and over again?
So, Samuel David Evans, the second, decided that he would be a jock, or a junior jock. They were hazed the least and all they had to do was be good at one sport and drink beer. Nothing else was expected. If he got those down and built up on that, maybe he could avoid being–
"Hey! Let me go!"
–stuffed into a locker like that one kid.
"Oi! Reuben, Carson? What the hell? " Amanda stood before the deplorable sight of two hunks of teen-males, both pushing a young, acne-ridden kid, into one of the larger lockers beside the cafeteria.
Sam watched from his place in the line as the blonde girl stared the two guys down. They shifted in theirs spots, each holding the young teen by an arm, while looking more like children than tough athletes in red and white High School letterman jackets.
"Come on; find someone else to mercilessly torture." If the young boy could kiss her, it seemed like he would have, as the two beasts stalked off to look for more prey. He smiled up at her slightly and she petted his head.
"You like the Syfy channel?"
"Star Wars or Star Trek?"
"Hmm… Eleventh Doctor or Tenth Doctor?"
"H-How could you even compare them?"
Amanda smiled brightly and took the kid's hand, pulling a sharpie from her pocket. She began writing clearly and carefully.
"You might be just right for the A.V Club. It's down the hall, to the left and the third down on your right. Say this and they'll let you in."
If Sam could have been knocked off his feet without looking utterly weird, he probably would have been. All the students around them just carried on in their business. He only saw people he was sure were freshmen, the ones from his last classes, stop momentarily to watch the lioness saving a poor gazelle.
"That's proof! That's proof right there! You're like… Clark Kent. Only with female parts." The teen covered his head with a red tray when Amanda tried smacking him upside the head.
"Eloquent. Very eloquent."
Lunch went by smoothly and all Sam had to do was reach his homeroom for some study hall and he'd be home free.
"Sammy, wait!" Amanda caught up with the boy as he walked down a couple of stairs. She grabbed his hand and led him forward, stopping by a lonely, empty hallway.
"Alright. This is important, so listen up." Sam tried to open his mouth to speak but his sister shushed him. He glanced to his left for a moment. A girl with long hair, dark eyes stood there. He looked away before doing a double-take.
She was gone.
The lights in this particular part of the hallway were off. There were old and dusty posters put up on the walls and students weren't walking through it, but past it. They seemed scared, slightly irked and a bit freaked. Even the older students didn't seem to want to pass through.
"This is McKinley High's Bloody Hall."
"You don't remember, and I barely did before I came here but ten years ago, something around 2010, there was a massacre here." Amanda stared into the hallway, hand tightening around Sam's slightly.
"There was this kid, his name was Harold or Harvey or something with 'Ha' in it. He came in through the cafeteria exit, the one that leads to the parking lot, and he was armed to the teeth with guns, but he came in at the wrong time; he wanted to catch the first lunch period. It was too early. When he couldn't find anyone, he turned to the halls and found the choir room and…"
He hadn't seen her so uncomfortable since she got a B on a Biology test last year… and that was really scary. A couple of girls, all holding hands, came from the cafeteria and stood beside them before walking across the hall. They stopped three times, each time in front of a door, and all three mumbled a bit at each before running out the other side. They hugged each other and squealed, looking both content and relieved.
"It's sort of a tradition. You come in, pay respects, walk out of the hallway. If you make it out alive, then you're good. It's sort of the spirits way of saying you're safe. No bad mojo." Amanda nudged at Sam's shoulder and pushed him forward.
His eyes widened slightly.
"Sam, as much as I abhor High Schools stereotypes, this is in a bit of good taste. Go on." Amanda pushed him again. The blond frowned as he stepped into the darkness of the hall. You could see, since the light from the adjacent hallways spilled in and made things a bit clearer. However, it was like stepping back in time.
Everything was clean, picture-perfect, with only a thin layer of dust and a couple of cobwebs here and there. There were red and white posters with dated sometime around April of 2010 with Titans game-dates and addresses. There were one or two posters for New Directions and when their Regionals competition would be held. Others were for Cheerios practices, bakeries and school car-washes. This part of the school was plastered with all kinds of activities but he hadn't' seen one poster anywhere else.
He had chalked it up to it being the first week of school.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt a chill at his neck, moving up to his left ear.
"Sam!" yelled Amanda.
A soft voice whispered: Run.
"Evans!" Reuben and Carson were walking down the hallway towards him.
Two rough hands grabbed him by the arms and the door labeled 'Choir Room' was suddenly pulled open.
"Not even legacies get off scot-free Evans." Reuben laughed as he pushed the blond in the room.
"Woah! Guys come on!"
"Your sister owes us a geek. You're new; you haven't proven yourself yet–" Carson grabbed the door handle.
"–That makes you a geek by default. Later fresh-meat." The door was shut with a cackle.
Sam launched himself off the dirty, dusty floor to pull at the handle but the door was shut tight.
Did they have keys or something?
"Well, they never change, do they?"
Sam whipped around quickly, back slamming onto the locked door as he looked around. His eyes narrowed and then widened when he really looked at the room: red chairs and black tools were strewn about, the colors were faded and some of them were scratched or cracked. Dark stains littered the white-tile floor, dark shadows casting a glance into the horrors of the past. The room was heavy with dust and dirt, with grime covering the darker corners and cobwebs settled against the windows. It was a place locked in time and the blond boy could feel it.
The black piano stood alone to the right, in front of the whiteboard where the words 'Regiona-' were written in clear, bright black marker.
Sam's green eyes became fixed on it. He stepped forward, careful not to step on any of the stains on the floor, and stopped in front of the old marker lying on the floor. He dusted it off, staring at the words, the only thing in the room that seemed to withstand the test of time. He didn't think, only felt, as his hand wiped the words off the board, leaving a clear white dash within a sea of grimy gray. He rewrote it:
"Regionals." He whispered, not even the web of dyslexia in his mind could cloud that word.
"Yeah. Too bad we never got there." Sam turned around, his eyes widening suddenly as everything changed. Freezing was only the beginning. Things were changing fast.
The cobwebs were receding, and the stains of the floor were becoming brighter; crusty black gave way to shining red as the tiles on the floor shined again. The fluorescent lights came one, one by one. Sam grasped at the door handle, desperately tugging at it as the sound of creaking chairs filled the air. The upturned stools and chairs were organizing themselves on the risers.
Twelve chairs covered them, and one sat in front of them, next to the great black piano.
"Crap… Ok… If there's anyone here, I'm not trying to mess with you at all…" Sam turned his back to the board and clenched his hands as the last of the lights in the room flickered on.
It looked brand new.
"I know that genius."
Dear God, those were the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. It didn't even cross the jock's mind that this kid hadn't been there a second ago, or that he was possibly a really pissed-off ghost. The blue-eyed boy adjusted the furry, red band on his right arm before standing up, giving Sam a full view of what he was wearing: a red and white uniform with the letters WMHS printed on the front. Where those pants even for boys? They seemed a bit-
"Eyes up here, lemon-head." The eyes were suddenly very close and Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.
"I'm Kurt Hummel, resident cognizant ghost."
"You know, he'd probably be more comfortable if you stepped back Kurt." A soft voice came from Sam's left.
A girl in a dark gray dress and a red over-coat sat in a chair not far from where Kurt and Sam now stood. The blue-eyed boy took a couple of steps back before studying Sam for a moment. He then moved to sit down next to the girl, who pulled her blond bangs away from her eyes and tucked them behind an ear.
"Do you have to scare them all away?" Her voice was soft and while she kept looking at Sam, she was really talking to the one next to her.
"I wasn't going to scare this one away." Kurt raised an eyebrow. The girl gestured at the room with her hand, where everything was clean and clear; where the only thing that clashed were the pools of blood on the floor.
"Fine. Do what you want. Don't come running to me when it backfires and slaps you in the face." The girl turned and stood up. "I was- I'm Quinn Fabray. It was nice meeting you."
With that, she was gone. She faded out as quickly as she had arrived. Sam stared at the spot where she once stood and at the chair where she had been sitting before turning towards Kurt.
"You're part of…"
"That club? The ones that got mowed down like a group of cattle at a slaughter house? Yes."
"Are you all here?" That freaked him out. That Quinn girl had just appeared and disappeared, or maybe… she hadn't. Maybe she was still in there with him and Kurt. What if all the others were watching them at that exact moment? The thought set the teenager's skin on fire, goose-bumps rising steadily across his arms, shoulders and neck.
"Relax. It's just me and you, lemon-head."
"Would you quit it with the lemon-head?" It was just what he needed: a sarcastic ghost.
"It's the perfect name for that dye-job." A smirk came on Kurt's face as he whipped his head to the side, brushing brown bangs from his face.
"I do not dye my hair." A psychic, sarcastic ghost.
The blue eyes stilled and became wide. That spark of humor that attracted Sam was gone, replaced by something much darker. Fear suddenly flooded them and words were caught in the pale throat. He turned slightly, glancing at a door at the other side of the room. A figure was looming in the shadows. The door was slanted in such a manner that you could only see the feet: sneakers and dirty jeans. White sneakers and faded denim jeans covered in blood.
"Get away from him!"
Wild eyes, a clean-shaven head and a body that could side-check a wrestler. A young man in a plaid blue shirt ran at him, eyes dark and black, hands clawing out at him. They were scarred, marred; you could see the bone behind the fingers, the nails pushed back. Pushed back from clawing, clawing at everything and everyone.
Sam stood frozen in his spot and became oblivious to Kurt's screams as the other guy ran at him. He was able to move, to breathe and react only when another body came, from where he didn't know, and slammed the screamer onto the ground.
Deep brown eyes and a mess of black hair were the most striking features.
"RUN YOU IDIOT! RUN"
You didn't have to tell him twice.
"No way… No way!" Amanda's eyes lit up as she struggled to contain a smile.
It was moment like these that made Sam Evans wonder: 'How in the hell am I related to this girl?' The teen had run out of the choir room when those two demons burst onto the scene. He didn't stop running, pushing people out of the way and crossing hallways until he made it to an exit. He dashed down the cement stairs and collapsed onto the sidewalk as the bell, signaling the end of the school day, rang. Sweat had been coming down his back and his muscles ached from the sudden burst of energy, but he felt better. The distance kept him safe.
Sam had pulled out his phone, dialed Amanda's number and asked her to meet him at the library. After that, Sam had made his way to the library. Once there he recounted everything to the worried sibling that was waiting for him.
"I told you so!" Amanda whispered excitedly, leaning over her textbook. The two were sitting in the library, avoiding the suspicious glances the librarian tossed their way. They only returned the look with two angelic smiles, but it seemed the woman would not be satisfied.
"I think we can figure out which was which." The seventeen year old opened the tattered yearbook in her hands, looking up the page for the Glee Club. She smiled and set it on the table.
"New Directions: Never to be Forgotten." She read. There were at least three pages dedicated to the club, and one page for each member, including their director.
Amanda adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses and pulled out a sheet a paper and two pens, one black and one blue, from her messenger bag. She turned the book so Sam could get a better look.
"Let's make a list of each of them."
"List? Why?" Sam asked while staring at a photo of Kurt Hummel with an African-American girl beside him; they were linking hands and posing for the camera.
"We're going to help them, duh." The boy scowled when his forehead was flicked.
"Sam! It's obvious that they're stuck here. Would you like being stuck here as a ghost?" Amanda popped the cap of her pen and tapped the first page. "Now read, it'll be good practice for you anyways."
Sam scowled but turned his attention to the yearbook. "Glee Club… N-New Directions, 2009 to 2010."
The first was Rachel Barbara Berry. She had been a star from her infancy, and had always tried to shine the brightest. When she joined New Directions, that changed, and she decided to make sure that her club became the star of William McKinley High School. Her favorite plays had been Les Miserables and Wicked. She had long brown hair, a bright smile and eyes that were focused.
"Oh god, who the hell dressed her?" Amanda frowned at the combination of a cream turtle-neck with dark brown argyle pattern, a light brown sweater, a denim skirt and knee-high socks with brown, golden-buckled shoes.
The next kid was in a wheel chair, wearing a white dress-shirt, a red green bow tie and suspenders. His dark and thickly rimmed glasses couldn't hide the confident smile or the twinkle in his eyes. Arthur 'Artie' Abrams. He liked rapping and had hoped to be a dancer one day, but decided that being the first Jay-Z in a wheelchair was better.
Behind him, two Asian students stood holding hands. The taller of the two, Mike Chang, was dressed in faded-blue jeans with a light-blue t-shirt covered by a striped black and white jacket. Tina Cohen-Chang stood next to him, a girl with long black hair covered in blue high lights. She was dressed head to toe in black, with the exception of her skirt, which was a plaid red and black pattern.
"Oh! I remember, the Goth look was so in back then. Magdalene told me about it." Amanda moved the yearbook to study Tina's style, writing down a couple of notes on her description. "Used to stutter… Thought to have been a vampire by half of the student body?"
"Why would they put that in?" Sam reached for the yearbook again, reading the names and descriptions of the rest of the members of New Directions.
Next to Mike and Tina were Brittany S. Pierce, a tall blond, and Santana Lopez, a busty Latina. The two were smiling at the camera, proudly displaying their cheer-leading uniforms. Their hands were clasped together tightly. Behind them, Quinn Fabray stood with her hair tied into a pony-tail, wearing a cheerios uniform and a sly smile.
"Wait… I saw her. In the choir room." Sam pointed at the girl, and Amanda wrote an asterisk by her name.
"Did she say anything important?"
"She told Kurt that he shouldn't scare 'this one' away and that his plan was going to backfire." Amanda's mouth tightened into a thin line. Green eyes turned onto the page, and Sam was quick to point out the other ones.
"Here! This ghost tried to kill me, but this one stopped it."
"Noah Puckerman, self-proclaimed tough guy. I've heard a bit about him… Nice mohawk. Finn Hudson. Part of the Celibacy Union, Quarterback. Guess he was the golden boy."
Sam stared at the page, and then did a minor double-take when he saw a pale face with a raised eyebrow and bright-blue eyes. Kurt Hummel. His throat closed slightly. In this picture, he was wearing a checkered right covered by a brown sweater, with a black tie peeking out from underneath. He tried not to laugh at the yellow 'smiley-face' embroidered on it.
"This one – He was the first one – Kurt. Only he was wearing a uniform." Underneath the boy's description were the clubs he had joined: New Directions and the Cheerios.
"Oh, I love those jeans. Was he a model or something?" Amanda took off her glasses and looked closer before jotting down the boy's name. "Wonder what they look like from behind…"
"Amanda!" Sam's cheeks were spotted unevenly with reddish hues. The girl smiled devilishly and tugged on the teen's nose lightly. He swatted her hand away.
"Ooh, does someone have a thing for poltergeist with tight pantaloons?" The girl wrote Mercedes Jones' name down on her pad.
"Pants is just a clipped word for pantaloons, Samwise... Alright. So that's them plus Matthew Rutherford and Will Schuester, which makes thirteen… Alright." The junior grabbed the yearbook from Sam's hands and shut it, looking at him in a determined manner.
"We need to help them. One restless soul at a time, got it?"
"Don't have much of a choice, do I?"
"Oh come on. Like you wouldn't jump at the chance to help that cute Hummel kid!"
"Mandy, I love you, but shut up."