Chapter Text
This year will be different, Aang tells himself. He can barely contain his excitement as he rushes up the stairs with Appa by his side. The big wooden doors part in front of him, and he enters William McKinley High, his new school. Not just his new school, but his first proper school! To Aang, this makes everything he sees beautiful and full of promise. The rows of scruffy, broken lockers are a safe space for his new books and notebooks. The smell of sweat, disinfectant and chalk that drifts heavily through the air is the scent of a building that is used and loved. Even the low lights and ugly red and brown décor excite him, reminding him that he is as far away from the monastery as it is possible to be. And the people! A sea of teenagers constantly moving, talking, running, shouting – those are all his new friends, whether they know it or not. He twirls around happily, taking it all in, and smiles at a group of tall guys in red and yellow letterman jackets. They smile back, and for a moment he’s sure he’s already found new friends. Then one of them raises the cup he’s holding and the slushy hits Aang straight in the face.
Cruel laughter rings in his ears, but that’s not the worst of it. Aang thought he knew what it was like to be doused in cold fluids – the monks were big fans of cold showers, even in winter. But he was not prepared for a slushy in the face. It hurts, and it sticks to his face and in his mouth and on his hair. He’s so shocked he just stands there, numb and empty, until he feels Appa’s cold nose nudge his hand. Appa is trained to notice signs of an impending seizure, and he’s clearly worried that Aang is in pain. Aang takes a deep breath and looks around, trying to find someone, anyone he can ask for help. Most of the people around him are still laughing, but a few lockers down a pretty girl with braided hair is looking at him quietly, the corners of her mouth turned down. He dips a hand into the soft fur at the back of Appa’s head, and, murmuring a quiet “yip, yip,” walks towards her.
“Hi, I, well… sorry, but can you tell me where I can get rid of this?” He waves his hand, indicating the mass of red slush sliding down his face.
She gives him a sympathetic look. “You’re new here, right? I can take you to the bathroom, it’s just around the corner.”
The girl sends him into the boys’ bathroom with the advice to use plenty of warm water and take care of his eyes first. He smiles at her, and spends the next ten minutes painstakingly removing icy red lumps from his face and hair. As painful as it was to get hit in the face, he’s glad most of the mess avoided his shirt. It’s nothing special, just an orange t-shirt, but it’s one of the first pieces of civilian clothes Monk Gyatso bought for him when they moved to Lima. Aang doesn’t mind the robes that everyone wears at the monastery, but there is something thrilling about wearing a t-shirt and jeans like a normal teenager.
“Well, boy, that wasn’t such a good start, was it?” he says, kneeling down to rub Appa’s ears. “But that girl was really nice! Maybe we should get her name.” He knows that talking to dogs is a bad habit, but as pathetic as it is, Appa is his best friend. There’s just something reassuring about looking into those big, soulful brown eyes, and the slushy hit shook Aang more than he’d like to admit. He rallies, though, because this is his first day and it’s all part of the high school experience, isn’t it?
“Yip, yip!” he tells Appa, and they leave the bathroom together. The pretty girl is waiting for him outside, talking to a boy who looks so similar to her that they have to be related. They both turn when Aang pushes the door open, the girl smiling. The boy is frowning, but his face lights up when he sees Appa, and he immediately leans forward and tries to pet the dog.
“You have a dog! How do you have a dog? He’s so cute!” he exclaims.
Appa, however, is on duty. He backs away, and the girl grabs the older boy before he can go any further. “Sokka!” she says, scandalised, “can’t you see that that’s a service dog? You’re not supposed to pet them!”
The boy – Sokka? – looks confused, so Aang chimes in. “It’s true, Appa is my service dog! That’s why he has the yellow vest. He’s working right now, so you can’t pet him, but he does like cuddles though, so maybe you can pet him some other time when he’s off duty.” He gives both of the kids his best smile, and rubs one of Appa’s ears to calm him down.
“Oh, sorry!” Sokka says, pouting. “He was just so cute! I didn’t see the vest. Will you really let me pet him another time?”
The girl sighs and turns to Aang. “Please don’t pay any attention to my brother, he’s an idiot. I’m Katara, by the way,” she adds, extending her hand.
“I’m Aang!” he replies, shaking her hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for your help earlier. I’ve never had a slushy thrown in my face before.”
“Well if you’re not planning on becoming a football player you better get used to it,” Sokka tells him drily, “because it’s a pretty normal occurrence here. Especially if you’re short and bald,” he adds, pointing to Aang’s head.
“Sokka!” Katara exclaims, lightly punching the boy’s shoulder. “What?” her brother answers, flinching away. “It’s true! You get bullied all the time because of your braids, and being bald is worse”.
Aang is confused. “Why is it bad to be bald? At the monastery you shave your hair off as a sign that you’re letting go of physical attachments.”
“You’re from a monastery?” Katara asks, cutting over Sokka, who’s trying to tell Aang that he hopes he isn’t attached to clean shirts then.
“Yes!” Aang answers her excitedly. “I grew up in the Buddhist monastery in Columbus. But Monk Gyatso was always getting into trouble, so they sent him to set up his own temple here in Lima, and he said he’d only go if they let me come with him. I’m his favourite, you see. And since it’s just us here in Lima and he’s too busy to teach me, they all agreed I can go to a regular school. It’s my first time, and I’m really excited!” He smiles at them, the simple act of standing in a high school corridor filling him with joy.
Katara smiles back. “That’s so interesting, Aang,” she says. She really is very pretty, Aang thinks, with her big blue eyes and the beaded braids framing her face. A tendril of hair has escaped the braids and is hanging in front of her eyes, and Aang wonders what it would be like to tuck it back behind her ear.
His daydream is cut short by a snort from Sokka. “So you grew up in a monastery and this is your first time in high school? They’re going to eat you alive, buddy.”
This year will be different, Katara tells herself. She’s already made a new friend! Aang is a bit strange, and definitely too enthusiastic about high school, but he seems nice. It’s a good start, especially since her goal this year is to make more friends. Sophomores don’t hang out with their older brother all the time, not if they want to stop being losers. And while Sokka isn’t too bad for a boy, all he wants to talk about is food, pro-wrestling and his robotics club. Plus, she thinks, as she hands Sokka his lunch and gym clothes, sometimes she feels that he takes her for granted.
Aang, on the other hand, is smiling at her like she’s the best thing that’s happened to him all day. It turns out their lockers are next to each other, and Katara smiles back at Aang as she tries to keep up with his barrage of questions. He doesn’t seem to know anything about high school, and gets excited about the smallest details.
“Really?”, he exclaims, “there’s more than 50 clubs at this school? How do you choose which one to go to?”
“Well,” Katara answers, feeling a little defensive, “it’s actually not that easy to get into some of them. Sokka’s in the robotics club, for example, and you have to have really good math scores to get into that one. And a lot of the clubs are either for a specific political stance or religion, like God Squad, or they’re just stupid, like Fruit Sculpture Club. I’ve tried joining a few, but I haven’t found one I really like.” She doesn’t mention that most kids don’t want the loser Native girl in their club. High school is a brutal place, and she wants Aang to keep his wide-eyed innocence as long as he can.
“Oh,” Aang says, and he looks so disappointed that Katara finds herself adding, “but I’ve always hoped that someone would start a glee club, a show choir, you know? I really like singing, but I’m not that good, and it would be so fun to learn to sing with other people. When Mr. Iroh the history teacher started teaching here I hoped he would start one, because he used to coach the glee club at his old school. But that hasn’t happened yet, and I don’t think it will this year…” she realises, belatedly, that her unfulfilled glee club fantasy is perhaps not the best thing to cheer Aang up. But the boy is smiling at her again, clearly undeterred. “That’s a great idea! I love to sing too, we used to sing all the time in the monastery. Don’t worry, Katara, I’ll talk to Mr. Iroh. I’ll get him to start a glee club, and we can be in it together!”
Katara tried to tell Aang that there’s no point, that if Mr. Iroh hasn’t started a club in the last two years he won’t start one now. But it seems that once Aang gets an idea into his head any criticism just flies over his head, and when he finds out he has fifth period with Mr. Iroh any chance of dissuading him is gone. He goes off to his classes with a promise to update her after school, and his enthusiasm is so infectious that Katara can’t help the tiny spark of hope that builds in her chest. After all, it would be so nice to have a place to sing that isn’t her room or the shower.
This year will be different, Iroh tells himself, watching a dejected Aang leave the classroom, shoulders slumped in disappointment. A new beginning. No more sitting around moping about the good old days, or wallowing in guilt about Lu Ten. He needs to concentrate on being a good history teacher, being a parent to Zuko and deciding on this year’s tea club theme.
It’s why he had to say no to Aang’s plea to start a glee club at McKinley High – it would be too much like chasing the past. Iroh needs to move forward, not try to desperately recreate his life from before the accident. He already catches himself calling Zuko “Lu Ten” in his head sometimes, and coaching a show choir will only push him deeper into the past.
Still, he can’t stop thinking about it. He takes a detour on his way home and stops at Lima’s only Japanese shop for tea, but even as he’s choosing the best oolong for the tea club, he finds that his head is full of show choir logistics. They could use the choir room – he knows it’s empty most afternoons. There are so many songs he’d like to try out, so many dances he’s now itching to choreograph. He wonders if there’s any good singers at McKinley High. Discovering new singers is one of his favourite things – there’s nothing quite like watching a shy kid’s trembling voice bloom into confident, beautiful song. He’s smiling and humming as he pulls out of the shop’s parking lot, the seat beside him piled high with tea. He reminds himself that no, he’s not starting a new glee club, it’s a bad idea. But then he wonders what it would be like to coach a show choir without the pressure that Vocal Adrenaline had – they won nationals five years out of the seven he coached them, and a winning streak like that is a heavy burden to bear.
He’s still fighting the ideas crowding his mind as he unlocks the door to their house and takes off his shoes, almost dropping the boxes of tea heaped precariously in his arms.
“Zuko!” Iroh shouts. “I brought you some of those green tea mochi you like!” There’s no answer, so Iroh just takes everything into the kitchen. He knows Zuko is home – football season hasn’t properly started yet, and other than the occasional practice Zuko doesn’t go anywhere except school and home. Iroh spends a moment in front of the photo of Lu Ten that stands on the living room bookshelf, and then heads down the steps to the basement. The basement door is slightly open, and standing on the last step, Iroh can see Zuko clearly. The boy’s headphones are perched on his head, and he’s stomping around trying to learn some complicated dance sequence. He’s covered in sweat, his face scrunched in concentration and his mouth a thin angry line. Zuko is always angry these days, and Iroh feels something in his chest constrict as he watches Zuko fumble the routine and let out a frustrated shout. He tries again and this time trips right away, turning away in a rage to throw off his headphones and bang his head on the wall.
Iroh itches to go in and try and help him, comfort him, tell him he doesn’t need to try so hard, that dancing should come from joy, not from desperation and anger. But he knows it won’t help – he’s tried it all before. Zuko doesn’t listen to him, and the truth is that Iroh is afraid for the boy. When he’s not at school or playing football he’s always here, practising the same dance moves and songs over and over again, getting worse every day. Standing on the stairs and watching helplessly, Iroh comes to a decision. He will start a new glee club at McKinley High, but not for his own glory, or because he wants to go back to his old life. He’ll do it for Zuko.
This year will be different, Zuko tells himself. This is the year he gains back his honour.
He stares at his face in the bathroom mirror. The scar is as prominent as ever, a crusted red blemish on the left side of his face, a constant reminder of his failure and humiliation. It’s only the second day of his junior year and he’s already tired of school. Zuko is never happy, but at least in the summer he can spend all day training, feeling like he’s doing something to change his miserable life. But this year he has even more classes than before, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive a year of math and English and Spanish and biology when he should be doing everything he can to fix his mistakes.
Every minute wasted is another minute that he isn’t good enough. Not good enough for his father, which means not good enough for Vocal Adrenaline. Not good enough for his sister, who hasn’t called him in months. Not good enough for any school except the pathetic William McKinley High in the shithole that is Lima, Ohio. The only path before him is to train, and train, until he’s such a good performer they can’t help but want him. Then, he can go back to the life he deserves.
Uncle Iroh is waiting for him in the kitchen when he comes down the stairs. Judging by the expression on his uncle’s face, he’s itching to tell Zuko something. The last thing Zuko needs at 7am is some overly-enthusiastic rant about the different levels of green tea roasting, but Zuko knows from experience that there’s no stopping Iroh. We have to seize the day by its hair and start it right, Zuko! Make time in the morning and time will make itself, Oi! Ugh.
But it seems that today Iroh isn’t interested in roasted green tea. “Oi, I have good news,” he tells Zuko, beaming. “I have decided to start a glee club at McKinley High. I am calling the group New Directions, and I hope that you will be one of its founding members.”
For a moment, Zuko feels something light up inside of him. A show choir he can actually join! He could sing again, and dance with other people, and feel the adoration of a happy audience. But then he hears Azula’s voice inside his head, teasing and vicious. Oh Zuzu, have you really fallen so far that you’ll join some pathetic group of misfits? Next is his father’s, cold and uncaring. If you think going along with anything my failure of a brother tries to do is a good idea, then I was right to get rid of you. Zuko’s heart fills with despair and anger, and he can’t even look at his uncle. His uncle, who for the past year and a half has been bothering him relentlessly, intent on giving him stupid advice. What use is finding the joy, or following his heart? His uncle, who failed even more than Zuko did, who has fallen to the deepest depths, but has the audacity to somehow still smile and joke and get excited about tea. Zuko can’t bear how unfazed his uncle is by his own failure whilst Zuko is working himself to the bone every day to fix the mistakes he made. And this new glee club is just another sign that his uncle doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand what Zuko needs and what he’s going through.
“No, Uncle,” he says angrily. “I am not joining some stupid bunch of talentless losers. Until I can get back into Vocal Adrenaline, singing with other people is a waste of my time.” “Zuko-” his uncle starts, but the boy stands up quickly and grabs his bag before his uncle can say anything else. “I’ll see you after school” he says, and leaves, not looking back.
Parking his car in the school lot, he fights the wave of misery that washes over him. He can’t cry, not like this, not now. He bangs his head against the steering wheel and balls his hands in his shirt. This afternoon he will train even harder, he decides. He’ll try the dance routine again from the start, and repeat it as many times as he needs to. Failure is not an option – this year is his last chance to prove himself and get transferred to Carmel High so he doesn’t have to finish his school years as a nobody from Lima.
Wiping his face on the sleeve of his red and yellow football jacket, he decides to pick up a slushy on his way inside. The look on people’s faces when they’re hit by the icy flakes always makes him feel a little bit better.
This year will be exactly the same as all the ones before, Toph tells herself. Completely fucking awesome. There’s no other way for a year to go when you’re Toph Beifong, absolute badass and future rock star. It doesn’t matter that she’s blind, or that she uses a cane to get around. Everyone at the school knows that you don’t mess with Toph Beifong. The only reason she isn’t popular is because she doesn’t want to be – popular kids somehow manage to be even more idiotic than the average McKinley High student, and that’s saying something. No, Toph is perfectly happy on her own. Why would you need anyone else when you’re Toph fucking Beifong?
Toph also has no doubt what her path in life will be. The moment she manages to leave her parents’ over-protective clutches, she is going to be a rock star.
But every good star needs to start somewhere, so when her history teacher Mr. Iroh announces at the end of his class that he’s starting a new glee club, Toph doesn’t hesitate. She goes up to Iroh after class and tells him she’s going to audition. Once she has the information she needs she turns to leave, smiling, but is stopped by someone shouting her name.
“Wait, Toph! It’s Toph, right?” It’s the new boy, the one who talks too much and walks around like a dancer. He’s so light on his feet Toph can barely hear him stepping towards her, and senses where he is mostly by his service dog’s loud panting. Seriously, why do dogs have to be so loud? Her parents keep wanting her to get her a guide dog, but she’s stood her ground so far. Any help the dog would provide would be far outweighed by the incessant panting that would block all other sounds. Of course, her parents still won’t acknowledge how useful Toph’s hearing is, no matter how many times she demonstrates what she’s capable of. No, Toph is their helpless little girl and needs constant supervision and help with everything. Ugh.
“What do you want, twinkletoes?” Toph asks the boy without turning around. With her level of hearing there’s not really any need to face people when she talks to them, and she finds that it sets people on edge to talk to her back. It doesn’t seem to deter the new boy, though. “Oh, that’s a cool name! My real name is Aang, but you can call me twinkle-whatever if you want, I don’t mind.” She can basically hear the smile in his words. Ugh. “I just wanted to say that I’m also auditioning for the Glee club. We could be in it together! Isn’t it exciting? My new friend Katara will be so excited to hear about it, and she’s also going to join, and maybe her brother will as well, and we can all be friends, and it will be so fun.”
“Ok,” Toph says. “See you at rehearsals.” She starts to walk out of the room, but hears Aang and his dog rushing after her again. “Wait!” he shouts. Seriously, does he need to be so loud? He’s only a few steps behind her. “Do you know what you’re singing tomorrow? I still haven’t decided, I don’t know that many popular songs, we mainly sang religious chants at the monastery… Do you have any suggestions? I’m sure Katara will have suggestions if not, she’s so smart.”
Toph sighs and turns to face him. “What do you want, twinkletoes? I have to get to math.”
“Well,” he answers, his voice more tentative now, “I just thought we could be friends? Since we’ll probably be in the glee club together? Mr. Iroh says he thinks everyone who auditions will get in.”
“I don’t have friends,” Toph tells him, hoping to nip that terrible idea in the bud. “I’ll sing next to you, but I’m not singing with you. Bye.” And with that, she leaves a stunned Aang behind, humming to herself on the way to math class. She knows exactly what song she’s going to sing tomorrow. The only thing she needs to figure out is how to sneak her electric guitar out of her room without her parents noticing. Or maybe she can borrow one from school? She’ll figure it out. After all, she’s Toph Beifong.
This year will be different, Sokka tells himself. This is the year he’ll get Zuko to be his friend.
He sneaks a look around his shoulder at the group leaning on the lockers on the other side of the hallway. They’re all wearing football jackets and cheerleading uniforms and are laughing loudly at some rude joke. They’re school royalty, and Sokka hates them, but he also longs to be with them, to be them. They all look the same to him, the boys tall and muscled with perfect hair, the girls blond and slim and always smiling. All except Zuko. Sokka wonders sometimes if the scar is the reason he’s so obsessed with Zuko. It doesn’t fit with the rest of him, with the persona of the star football player and school bully. It doesn’t stop Zuko from being the best looking boy at the school – it just makes him more interesting. It gives his image a twist towards something that’s darker, but also more relatable. In his weakest moments, Sokka wonders what that scar would feel like under his fingertips. But a real man would not be thinking of touching another boy’s face, so most of the time Sokka tells himself he just wants to be Zuko’s friend. Because Zuko isn’t as bad as the others. Yes, he’s a bully – he pushes kids around a fair bit, and has definitely thrown his share of slushies. But he never seems to enjoy the bullying, not in the vicious way that the others do. He just seems angry, and sad under the anger. Sokka doesn’t think he’s ever seen Zuko smile properly, and it’s not for lack of looking. They share most of their classes, and Sokka often finds himself staring wistfully at the back of Zuko’s head and wondering what it would take for the boy to notice him – and not in a slushy-in-the-face kind of way.
He’s shaken out of his reverie when Katara smacks him lightly on the side of his head. “Katara!” he exclaims. “Stop staring at Zuko and pay attention, Sokka,” she tells him. “Aang worked hard to get Iroh to start a Glee club, you should listen to him.”
Sokka can feel his face heating. “I wasn’t staring at Zuko!” he says, his voice far too high and squeaky. “Also, I don’t care about the stupid Glee club,” he adds, trying to gain back some of his dignity.
“Of course you were staring at Zuko,” Katara says. She turns to Aang and adds, “Sokka has a crush on him, you know. I can’t see why myself, he’s just a big bully.” Aang looks embarrassed by the whole interaction and clearly doesn’t know what to say.
“For the millionth time, I don’t have a crush on Zuko!” Sokka shrieks. It comes out far too loud, and he glances around, relaxing when he determines no one has noticed. When he turns back, Katara is smirking at him, and Aang is trying to hide his embarrassment by getting something out of his bag. Sokka decides he’s had enough.
“Well, even though this has been wonderful, I have to get to biology,” he says, turning to go. “See you both later.”
He only makes it a few steps away before Katara runs after him, shouting. “Wait, Sokka, you forgot your lunch!” She hands it to him when he turns, and smiles placatingly. “I’m sorry for teasing you. I cut the crusts off the sandwiches, just like you like it.”
Sokka is starting to smile back at her when he hears a loud snort of laughter from the other side of the corridor. He looks up at the group of football players and finds them all staring at him and Katara, barely holding in their laughter. One of them mock-whispers to the others “She cuts the crusts off!” and then they all burst out laughing, pointing at him and wiping tears off their eyes. Sokka feels like his gut has turned to lead and his throat has swollen shut. This is his worst nightmare, he thinks, his eyes wet. Katara is telling him something, probably to brush it off, but he can’t hear her clearly. All he can hear is a voice in his head going no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening to me. It feels like hours pass, and his world is nothing but horrible laughter and mocking whispers and bile in his throat. Then his eyes find Zuko’s across the hallway. Zuko is smirking in a way that somehow makes Sokka feel even smaller and more worthless than before, and he knows he’s going to cry.
He’s saved by the bell going off for the next period. The football players disperse, still laughing, and Sokka rushes off to biology without saying a word to Katara. He somehow holds it together through class, and then spends the next break in the boys bathroom, feet pulled up onto the toilet seat, crying as quietly as he can. He cries so much these days, and he hates himself more every time he does. He’s supposed to be the man of the house, but no, all he can do is eat his crustless sandwiches and cry. How pathetic.
On the way home in the pickup, Katara is extremely nice to him. Every time he looks at her, she has this gentle expression on her face that makes him want to cry and punch her at the same time.
“You know, Sokka,” she says, “I still think you should join the Glee club”.
“Why?” he asks, annoyed. “Because I can sing sooo well?”
“Well, maybe you’re not the best singer out there,” she replies diplomatically, “but you’re an incredible dancer. I’m sure no one else in this club will be able to dance, and you’ll be the one teaching everyone else.”
Sokka hums noncommittally. She’s right, he is a great dancer, and the idea of lording his superior abilities over a bunch of other kids does sound appealing. But joining Glee club is still basically social suicide, and Sokka doesn’t know if he can take any more bullying.
“And you know,” Katara adds, “When Aang and I asked Mr. Iroh about dancing, he told us that his nephew Zuko was going to be in the club, and that he’s a terrible dancer, so we don’t have to worry about being the worst. You’d probably have to teach Zuko as well.”
Sokka parks the car and turns to look at her. She’s smiling at him knowingly. “Ok,” he says, resigned, “I’ll join this stupid Glee club.” And, he adds in his head, I’m going to wipe that smirk off Zuko’s face once and for all.
Iroh is satisfied. He accepted everyone who auditioned into the Glee club, which now has six members: Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Suki, and Teo. They’re all very talented, and Iroh already knows what song they’re going to start working on this afternoon.
“You see, it’s just what these children need,” he tells his friend coach Zhao over lunch in the break room. “A place where they are not afraid to be themselves. A tree can only grow as large as the sky, after all!”
Zhao looks sceptical, but whatever he wants to say is interrupted by a loud crash from the direction of the counter.
Sue Sylvester approaches their table, the shards of her broken mug sitting in a puddle of coffee on the floor behind her.
“Iroh,” she says, her expression tight and cold, “did I or did I not hear correctly, buddy, that you are starting a Glee club at this school?”
Iroh starts to answer her, but she interrupts him. “This school, where I, Sue Sylvester, have led my world-famous Cheerios team to five national cups? This school, where my Cheerios need the full attention and support of the students and the principal, without a bunch of diaper-wearing losers distracting them with soppy show tunes?”
Iroh doesn’t know what to say. He’s never had any problem with the cheerleading coach before, but everyone at the school knows she has a short temper and he doesn’t want to set her off.
“Why, yes, Sue,” he tells her. “Isn’t it good to have a club for the children who want to perform?”
This seems to have been the wrong thing to say. Sue’s face twists in anger, and she points at Iroh, says, “Principal's office, now,” and storms out of the room.
ooooo
Principal Kuei’s gaze flits nervously back and forth from Sue to Iroh. “Well Sue, I can’t really say no to a glee club at the school. It doesn’t cost much, and it’s pretty normal for a school to have one.”
“My dear badger-eyed Kuei,” Sue tells him, putting her hands on the principal’s table and leaning over him. “Do you realise what I, Sports-magazine-appointed cheerleading coach of the year Sue Sylvester, do for this school? I am this school! Without my five national cheerleading trophies, you are nothing.”
“Well, we are of course very appreciative of your talents, Sue,” the principal tells her placatingly. “You will always be my star coach. But Iroh isn’t asking for three thousand dollars for a nutritionist – he just wants to use the choir room so a few kids can sing.”
This only seems to make Sue angrier. “When I came to coach here as a fresh-faced prodigy, you vowed that my Cheerios will always be the only performers at this school. Are you, principal, going back on your sworn word? And for who? This ageing Asian Santa Claus?” She throws her hand violently to the side, pointing at Iroh, who so far is quite amused by the whole display.
The principal coughs nervously. “Well, Sue, I don’t quite remember swearing anything… I think I just told you we didn’t have any other performing clubs at the time, but I mean, you didn’t say anything when Ms. Norton started the Renaissance club last year. There’s really no reason not to have a glee club, and after all Iroh had a very good record at Carmel High – you might even be sharing the national championship win at the end of this year!”
“Really, Sue,” Iroh adds, thinking that he has to say something to de-escalate the situation. “I’m sure we can work together. One cannot use a single straw to sweep the floor! You are, after all, the experienced coach here – maybe you can teach me.”
Sue turns on him, so angry now that spit is flying out of the corners of her mouth. “Sue Sylvester will not be swayed by idle flattery,” she spits at him. “I don’t trust a man with long hair. I can’t help but picture birds laying sulphurous eggs in there, and I find it disgusting.” She stands up and walks towards the office door, only turning when she grasps the handle. “You, Mr. Iroh, have made a new enemy. You are about to board the Sue Sylvester express. Destination? Horror!” And with that dramatic statement, she sweeps out of the room and down the hallway, pushing students against the lockers as she goes.
Iroh looks back at principal Kuei. The man looks worried, and he frowns at Iroh. “I’m sorry, Iroh,” he says, “but Sue is my star player. I can only say no to her for so long. If you want to keep the glee club running, it needs to do something for me – I need you to place at Sectionals, or I’m shutting down the club.”
This, Iroh thinks, is extremely unfair, since no other club’s existence is conditional on their success in competitions. But Iroh learnt long ago that it’s always better to be patient and choose your battles. So he nods and thanks the principal and goes back to the break room to finish his tea. If Sue Sylvester wants to make an enemy of Iroh – well, she’ll have a fight on her hands.
ooooo
Just a small-town girl
It’s Friday afternoon, and there’s just one more thing Iroh needs to make this a perfect week. He’s sitting in the auditorium, watching the Glee club perform their first song on the stage. They’re awkward, unused to singing in front of an audience, fumbling through the moves. Toph is blind, Teo is in a wheelchair and Aang has a service dog on stage, but Iroh doesn’t mind. It’s obvious they’re enjoying themselves, and their voices are beautiful. Iroh gave this first solo to Katara and Aang, and he thinks he made the right decision. Aang has a surprisingly strong tenor for such a small boy, and it’s a great counterpoint to Katara’s soprano. They already have great chemistry, singing to each other as they walk around the stage.
Just a city boy
The only thing missing, Iroh thinks, is a baritone. Toph does provide some strength with her mezzo-soprano, but Teo is a tenor and Suki is a soprano. Iroh has told Sokka to stick to dancing for now. What they need is a strong, dramatic baritone.
It goes on and on and on and on
As if on cue, Iroh hears the door to the auditorium creak open. He’s timed this rehearsal perfectly, and he smiles to himself as he patiently waits for the person by the door to make a decision. Once the song is over and the children on stage are laughing and congratulating each other, Iroh hears someone walking down the steps, and a thump as a backpack is thrown down on a seat a row behind him.
Some will win, some will lose
“You chose this song on purpose, didn’t you, Oji?” Zuko asks.
Iroh’s smile widens. “I don’t know what you mean, nephew. It’s a popular song!”
He hears Zuko scoff behind him. “They’re good,” he says reluctantly. “Especially the tiny bald one.” He waits a few seconds, and then adds, “But you need a baritone. The sound is too weak.”
“My thoughts exactly, Oi,” Iroh says, turning to look at Zuko. The boy has his arms crossed across his chest, but his frown is a little lighter than usual. It might be a trick of the light, but Iroh thinks he sees a corner of Zuko’s mouth twitching into a smile. “Do you know where I might find one?” he asks.
Some are born to sing the blues
Zuko gives him a long look, evidently unamused. “Ok, you win, Uncle. I’ll join your stupid Glee club. But only because you need a baritone, and I can’t watch you embarrass yourself with this bunch of losers.”
Iroh smiles, and asks teasingly, “I thought you said they were good?”
Zuko shakes his head, and Iroh’s almost certain he’s smiling, but Zuko stands up and walks down the row before Iroh can decide for sure. At the end of the row, Zuko turns back to his uncle. “I’m assuming,” he says, “that it’s not a coincidence they were singing this song just as I got out of football practice.”
Streetlights, people
Iroh can see he wants an answer, but really, where’s the fun in that? “Practice is every day after school in the choir room,” he tells Zuko. “And now, I need to get back to my students. Oh, and if you pick up some squash on the way home, I can make my famous orange soup. After all, nothing warms the heart like soup!” Iroh thinks for a moment. “Except maybe tea, of course.”
Don't stop believin'
He can see Zuko shake his head all the way back up to the door of the auditorium, and he swears he hears a snort of laughter. A perfect week, he tells himself, sinking back happily into his seat.
Hold on to that feelin'