Thursday, April 1, 2010 — by Rachel Berry
This is the official New Directions Inspiration Journal and Historical Record, as started by me, Rachel Berry. This will be a place for us to write down the songs and events that inspire our musical selections and emotions as well as a record of our accomplishments.
When I said I was starting this book, Finn looked at me funny and asked if it was an April Fool's Joke. Which is totally funny, since I have never actually played an April Fool's Joke, just always had them played on me, like last year when Santana told me that Simon Cowell was coming to Lima to look for performers, and I missed all my afternoon classes to sew sequins on my best performance outfit, only to find out it was a joke when I came back, all dressed up and no Cowell in sight.
But that's irrelevant.
As I write this, I have just finished packing for our trip to Regionals, where I'm sure we'll take first place, beating Vocal Adrenaline at their own game. Although Jesse showed his true colors by returning to their traitorous ways, I found my inner resolve and now have a strong desire to show them exactly how remarkable New Directions can be.
On our trip tomorrow after school, I hope that we are able to spend the time to Cleveland becoming an even stronger team, joined together by the bonds of love — love for music, love for companionship, love for winning.
I only hope that the weather improves — all this rain will dampen our spirits.
Friday, April 2, 2010 — by Will Schuester
Rachel insisted that someone write in this book today, and with all of the students obviously exhausted, it came to me.
It's been a very long day, however.
The trip from Lima to Cleveland normally takes around three hours — four if you take a break at Mansfield for dinner.
We left McKinley at 3 — right after school finished. We reached our hotel at 3 am.
We started realizing something was wrong when there was traffic outside Dunkirk. We could see police waving cars in a different direction, and we followed the line of traffic wherever it went.
It was around 5 when we reached Kenyon. The bus driver kept on changing his GPS, trying to find the best route, but it seemed like most of the roads were blocked. We pulled into a diner, and that's when we heard about the rain.
We had been noticing the rain, but it wasn't that bad — or at least we thought. But it had flooded a lot of the highways, and it sounded like most of the areas between Dunkirk and Mansfield had been flooded out.
There was a trucker who was happy to help us work out a map, but even he didn't realise how bad the traffic would be. It was another 2 hours to reach Marion, then around 3 to reach Mansfield (where we stopped again to get something to eat), then things seemed to pick up on the way to Canton, since that only took 2 hours, but the final stretch from Canton to Cleveland took 3 hours when it should've only taken around 1 and a half.
When we finally got to the hotel, everyone was wiped out. And it didn't help that Figgins decided we only needed two rooms — one for the boys, and one for the girls. Trying to talk everyone into getting out their sleeping bags and pillows made them all grumpier, but a nice round of "Sloop John B" got everyone into a cheerier mood, and before too long, everyone was settled down and asleep.
It's still raining. And I don't know if it'll affect Regionals tomorrow.
Saturday, April 3, 2010 — by Artie Abrams
This wasn't as scary as the accident, but it came awfully close.
We all got to sleep around 3:30 last night, with Mr. Schue letting me have one of the beds, because it'd be easier to move into my chair from there, but Finn's mom called him at 8, and that woke us all up.
I don't know exactly what his mom said, because just as he answered, my dad rang me. And told me what was happening.
I called him last night to tell him about the traffic, but now he was telling me it was a lot worse. All the streets in Lima were flooded, and although he had spent most of last night sandbagging around the house, he wasn't sure the water wouldn't come in.
I told him we were on the first floor, and he started worrying. But I told him the hotel had three floors and with like a three foot foundation, and if it came to having to get higher, I'm sure Finn or Mister Schue would help me up there.
He told me to find someplace high soon. And I think that was what Finn's mom said as well, but I don't really know because then my dad wanted to talk to Mister Schue, and I had to hand the phone over.
Everyone else was getting calls from their parents, except for Kurt, but when Finn handed his phone over to Kurt, it was fairly obvious that his dad had spent the night over at Finn's place. Mister Schue was talking to my dad and it looked like he was getting worried. Puck went and looked outside the window, and...
I don't know what he saw, because I couldn't see from the bed, but he started swearing and packing up stuff. Mike did nearly the exact same thing (just with different words) and Matt started looking around for things to take.
And Finn went outside.
I don't really know what happened next — only what Kurt told me after he got off the phone with his dad. And he was really upset, so he didn't make a whole lot of sense. But I think this is what happened.
Finn's mom told him that the water kept on getting higher and that he should try and reach either high ground or a boat as soon as he could. That she was going to try to get as much as she could in the attic before the water started coming into the house, but that he wasn't to come home until he could be sure it was safe. And then she told him that she loved him, and asked him to give the phone to Kurt so that his dad could talk to him.
Finn went outside after he gave Kurt the phone, and I guess he was checking the water levels outside. Cleveland has Lake Erie and the Cuyahoga River, and maybe he was seeing how far we were from them? I don't know. All I know is that he went out, he had a look, and then he went for Rachel.
Tina told me that it was pretty much the same in the girls' room, except with slightly less swearing. Quinn's parents didn't call her, and Rachel's dads were in Denver, and just wanted to make sure she was okay, but Tina's family was pretty shaken up, and Mercedes wouldn't talk about her phone call at all. But when Finn grabbed Rachel and took her outside, everyone started to panic a little more.
As soon as he got off the phone with my dad, Mister Schue went after Finn, and I guess Finn thought that we needed a boat as soon as possible, because the flood waters kept rising and I could actually hear the sound of water outside. I got into my chair by that time, and I was able to roll to the hotel room door and see what was happening.
The parking lot was completely covered in water, like, two feet deep, and Finn and Rachel were sitting on top of the bus, trying to lash on pool noodles or something like that. I guess they thought that maybe they could get it to float? It wasn't working, and the water kept rising.
I could see the water slowly climbing up the wheelchair ramp I had rolled up just 5 hours ago, getting higher and higher. Mister Schue and Miss Pillsbury had disappeared, and I was starting to panic.
Just a little.
Who wouldn't?
The water kept on rising, and Finn and Rachel kept on trying to tie these foam things to the bus, with Puck and Quinn both shouting at them, and then the water was actually reaching my wheels, and that's when I started shouting too.
It's a good thing that some of our teammates are football players. Mike grabbed me and hoisted me up just enough for Matt to grab my feet and they booked for the stairs. I looked back just to see Tina picking up my chair and Mercedes grabbing my bag and all I could do was say "Don't drop me!"
But we got up to the third floor and they put me back in my chair and we watched the water get higher and higher. And we were getting even more panicked because the water was nearly to the top of the bus and despite all the foam things Finn and Rachel attached to it, the bus wasn't anywhere close to floating.
We were screaming at Finn and Rachel to swim to the stairs, to stop it, but I guess they got too scared or something and they weren't swimming to us. The water kept on rising, and it was actually over the bus, up to their legs. Rachel was wearing this silk pyjama-type thing that was getting all weighed down in the water, and she slipped off of the bus a few times, barely treading water before Finn dragged her back up.
Tina was holding on to me tightly, looking away, crying, and I wanted to look away too, because I was thought they were going to die. And we were going to die too.
And then Schue and Pillsbury came back. In a boat.
I don't know where they got this boat. It's kind of small, especially for all of us, but they managed to pick up Finn and Rachel, and then came to get us. Just before we left the hotel, Puck raided the vending machines, and Mike, Santana, Britney and Matt raided a couple of hotel rooms for blankets and whatever they could grab, even as the water started lapping at the walkway.
Finally, it was just me and Tina. Finn looked at me from the boat, then jumped onto the walkway. "You gotta get on my back," he said. "You okay with that?"
Hell yeah I was okay with that. He bent down in front of me, I wrapped my arms tightly around shoulders, and he lifted me onto his back. Tina grabbed my chair and we jumped for the boat.
I don't know how we managed to get on the boat, and I don't know where Schue got the boat. And I don't know how high the water is going to go, but, for right now, we're okay.
We're okay.
Sunday, April 4, 2010 — by Mike Chang
Dude, it's still raining. IT'S STILL RAINING. And the water keeps on rising. Like, all we can see are the skyscrapers around sticking out of the water.
This is seriously messed up.
Monday, April 5, 2010 — by Puck (No, Rachel, I am NOT using my full name)
Dammit, Rachel, I don't want to write in your stupid book.
But you're looking at me right now, so, okay, here it goes.
What we need in order to not fucking die:
You know what we have right now? A bunch of cans, some bags of chips and a whole pile of candy bars.
You're lucky I don't throw this overboard right now.
Bitch.
Okay, no, wait. I'm just scared, you know? Yeah, we got some junk food, and this boat, but the water keeps rising.
We gotta stay alive. Because I still haven't done any celebrities.
And I'm sick of all these Noah jokes already. Give it up!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010 — by Matt Rutherford
I was reading this, and I saw Puck's bit about needing food, and you know what?
I can fish.
And I did.
I saw Miss Pillsbury knitting, and I asked her if I could borrow some of her yarn. I grabbed some cheetos from the snack pile, made a fish hook out of a safety pin Quinn was using to hold her jeans together (and, man, I did not need to know that), and threw it into the water and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
But I got my fish. And a few others too.
There was a tiny stove in the boat, barely big enough to cook one fish, so it took us awhile to cook all the fish, but we did.
And, yeah, that was pretty fucking sweet, I have to say. My fish, my dinner.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010 — by Rachel Berry
My phone went dead today.
My dads can't call me any more.
The water's over the Key Tower now. They took me there once, when I won the Ohio Lil' Miss Talented. We went all the way up, and we could see over so much of Cleveland and Ohio — it was really amazing.
I can see over so much of Cleveland and Ohio now. But there's nothing but water.
Monday, April 19, 2010 — by Tina Cohen-Chang
I found this in a pile of stuff that we were using to make fishing nets.
I wish Rachel hadn't hidden it.
Like, okay, not much has happened — not since the water went over the Key Tower. There aren't any buildings in sight, and we haven't seen any other boats either.
All our phones are dead, and the radio on the boat doesn't work, so we don't really know what's going on.
But Matt's fishing worked out really well, and we then started making fishing nets which totally work out fantastic for us. We found out that the water around us is freshwater, so we can drink and get clean, but Miss Pillsbury likes us to boil all the water before we go near it.
And we keep singing. There's nothing else to do — the boat's too small to be have any make out sessions. Santana and Brittany have been trying, apparently because it makes all the guys suddenly really pay attention to their fishing, and Schue gets freaked out.
So we sing. We sing old songs we vaguely remember from kindergarten, we sing really filthy songs that we'd never sing in front of Schue, we sing old musicals, we sing really dorky pop songs, we sing everything.
It's what keeps us together, in a way. No matter how bad it gets (and, yeah, it's getting pretty bad), we still have our voices, and we still can sing.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010 — by Will Schuester
Tina handed me this yesterday and said I should keep an eye on it.
She's right. We'll need this in order to keep track of what's going on.
As near as I can tell, we're heading west. I'm hoping we'll hit dry land up in the mountains, and then go from there. Rachel said her dads were in Denver at the time, and that's a mile above sea level, so we're hoping that there will be some dry land at some point.
I'm trying to remain optimistic for the kids, but it's hard, especially since we haven't seen anyone else. I don't understand why we haven't seen any other boats.
It's like we're the only people left in the world. And that's terrifying.
But we have food, and shelter, and Tina and Mercedes have been leading sing-a-longs that perk up everyone's spirits. We might not have the costumes, or the stage, or music, but we still have glee.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010 — by Mike Chang
I thought we were goners today. Seriously.
Like, we were going along, everything was awesome, and suddenly, there was this clunking noise from the back of the boat.
And it got louder and louder and then there was smoke. Seriously!
And then — it was silent. The boat stopped.
Everyone got a bit panicked, and I'm man enough to say I was worried too. Like, okay, if we kept going, we could find land, and it helped with the fishing. But if we were stranded, then, I don't know. The fish wouldn't come, and we wouldn't get rescued, would we?
So all us guys are looking at the engine, and Schue is making suggestions and Matt is making suggestions and Finn's looking for a wrench. It's almost like shop class, but with our lives at stake.
Except none of us know what to do. Like, okay, it looks like a car engine, and Dad showed me how to change the oil and make sure the transmission's working, but aside from that? No clue. Finn barely knows how to change a tire. Matt knows a bit more, since he actually was taking shop, and Schue was rebuilding a car once, but, seriously, this is something we need a professional for.
And that's when Kurt steps in.
Most of us knew that Hummel's Garage was his dad's place — I mean, there's not that many people named Hummel — but I always figured that Kurt was too busy shopping or getting facials or whatever to actually work in the garage.
But he just grabbed the wrench from Finn, slipped off his coat, and climbed in. And he fixed it within minutes!
We were all kind of impressed, like when he did that kick at the football game, but he just smiled, shrugged, and went to wash the grease off his face.
Dude, Kurt? When we get rescued, I'm never throwing you in a dumpster again.
Thursday, April 22, 2010 — by Kurt Hummel
So I've become the mechanic on our home away from home. Tina and Artie keep on making Star Trek jokes, something about Scotty or whatever, which is cute in a pathetic way, but at least I'm unlikely to see the remains of yesterday's lunch in a dumpster again.
We've reached the point where even Santana and Brittany are tired of eating fish. It's been sushi, grilled, smoked, filleted, mashed, fried and a million other ways of preparing fish when your only food sources are swimming in the ever-increasing water around you and whatever Puck managed to snag from the vending machine at the hotel.
At least I brought my Vitamin C pills. I don't think scurvy would be an effective look for me.
Finn suggested diving down and finding a supermarket, since there'd be cans and boxes that'd be waterproof even if the labels have soaked off. Unfortunately for Finn, he also had the idea for escaping using the bus, so no one is listening to his ideas at the moment.
Tina also pointed out that we didn't know how deep the water was, not since the skyscrapers were covered by the water, and that Finn could run out of air before he even got to the supermarket. She said something about taking a sounding, but the last time I saw that word, it was linked on a chat room on the Internet, and I don't think that was what she was thinking. Or maybe Artie's not telling us something.
I hope someone finds a new food source soon. While fish are an excellent food for the complexion, I do worry that too much oily fish could cause me to break out. Plus, I'm worried that Puck will decide that my last Alexander McQueen jacket will make a good fishing net.
Friday, April 23, 2010 — by Mercedes Jones
Santana's been making jokes about cannibalism, and I swear I will punch her.
Sure, she can play it off like 'Oh, it was all just theoretical' or 'I'm kidding — besides, you'll be the last one to survive, what with all those reserves' or whatever, but I'm sleeping with one eye open now, you better believe me.
We don't need to worry about all that anyway. Tina and Artie started taking readings of the water's depths today. Poor Ms. Pillsbury looked a bit sad when they unravelled the sweater she was working on, but it's for a good cause, and maybe we'll find her some new yarn to work with.
Tina thinks that even though we're not quite sure where we are, some of the skyscrapers might be tall enough so that we can go in them and look. And there might still be air in there in order to check things out.
I don't know about that last part, but if they find out that the water's a lot shallower than they thought it was, it might mean we'll be safe and dry soon. As much as I like our boat, and I'm glad Mister Schue found it, I'm definitely missing dry land.
Saturday, April 24, 2010 — by Quinn Fabray
I hope we find other people before the baby's due. I don't want Rachel running around acting like that maid in "Gone with the Wind", and I definitely don't want Ms. Pillsbury having to look down there.
A hospital would be nice. With a bed and those drugs they give you so that you don't feel any pain below your waist. Mister Schue's sister-in-law told me about those, and how she still gets these flashbacks where it's like she never had children — I'd like to have those.
But if I had to have the baby here, at least I have Santana and Brittany to help me. They might hate me, but they're still my best friends.
Except Brittany almost died today.
I know a lot of people think she's dumb, and she is. But she can also be really smart, and, today, while Rachel was complaining about not having a map or how we should be looking for landmarks or something she must have picked up from watching too many bad movies, I saw this flash of blonde hair and heard a splash.
Everyone raced to the side, screaming out Brittany's name. I didn't even think she could swim (something she said once about how polar bears had white fur so that they could be invisible in swimming pools), but there she was, like already 20 feet away from the boat, swimming towards something we couldn't see.
When she swam back, holding something under her arm, we all crowded around her, Miss Pillsbury wrapping her in blankets and saying something about shock.
But everyone else was staring at what she held in her hands. She found a chicken. And she was softly petting it, murmuring to it like Finn does to the baby, even though he knows she's not his.
I remember when she had that bird in her locker and was late to Cheerios practice because she was too busy grinding up worms so that it could eat. I think that if she could find worms, she'd be doing the same thing here.
Sunday, April 25, 2010 — by Emma Pillsbury
Brittany says she just saw it swimming in the water, but I don't remember whether or not chickens can swim. Float, maybe?
I think I saw a cow early on, but that might have just been a strangely painted car. I still needed to go inside and practice the deep breathing the doctors taught me after my dairy farm incident.
I tried to talk to Brittany about the chicken, especially since I didn't have the "So you've brought your pet to school" flyer that worked well with her after her previous bird incident. But she wasn't interested in talking.
The boys were talking about eating the chicken, but I think Will is hoping it's a laying hen. Not that we know much about chickens, either of us. I was obsessed with cows, and the closest Will got to farm life was reading "Charlotte's Web".
Eggs would be very nice. I don't think I can keep making excuses for why I can't help with the fish. But all those scales and guts and blood...
I think I need to practice my deep breathing again.
Monday, April 26, 2010 — by Santana Lopez
I am just so tired of people saying that Brittany's stupid. Okay, so maybe she still thinks that if she does all her work in red pen, then the teachers will think all her answers were right, and maybe she thinks that tuna is a vegetable because it comes in a can, but she's a Cheerio. And there are no stupid Cheerios — Coach wouldn't have it. You can't memorize two hundred cheers and five hundred separate moves if you're stupid, can you?
And do you honestly think I'd stick with someone who is stupid? I mean, okay, yeah, officially, I'm dating Puck, and he was stupid enough to sleep with Quinn, but boys are like naturally stupid. I think it's the hormones.
So Brittany is not as stupid as everyone says she is. And she's proved it, hasn't she? She found a chicken, and the chicken means eggs, and that means we don't have to keep eating whatever fish Puck can bring in.
And besides, it gives her something to do. Tina and Artie are obsessed with finding out the depth levels of all this water, Puck's spending so much time fishing he's turning into Long John Silver or something, with Mike and Matt being his butt pirate pals, Mercedes keeps on trying to find new ways to cook fish, Kurt's suddenly a mechanic, and the less said about Finn and Rachel's sighing and moaning, the better. It's like they've never spent any time on a boat anywhere.
Although I can believe that with Rachel. Water probably causes her to melt.
So Brittany's got her chicken. And it's a lot like when she had that sparrow in her locker, you know? She'll spend all day just stroking it and calming it down and maybe we'll get some eggs out of it or whatever.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010 — by Brittany
Chickens need water and food and a place to sleep and hide.
They like hay and worms and feed and dirt.
My chicken is named Chicken. Because that is what she is.
Miss Pillsbury tried to talk to me about Chicken, but I don't know why. It's not like when I had Sparrow, because this isn't school, it's a boat. And Chicken isn't a sparrow.
Chicken needs hay and dirt. We have candy bar wrappers and mud.
Santana thinks Chicken is happy. But I don't know, because Chicken is a chicken, and they can't talk.
I hope Chicken is happy.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010 — by Finn Hudson
Brittany's chicken laid its first egg today. Dividing an egg up for 14 people is really hard, but Mercedes took it and one of our last bags of BBQ chips and made fried fish that was really good.
We're hoping for more eggs. Which would be good, because Coach used to say that fish didn't have enough protein and that we should be eating steak instead. I haven't seen any cows, though.
We could eat the chicken, because that's protein, but Mister Schuester says that eggs are more important than chicken. It's like that 'which came first — the chicken or the egg' thing, except with food.
I still think we should find a supermarket, but I don't want to drown either. Maybe Artie and Tina will find something shallow and
I have to go now. Quinn's in labor. It's really happening.
Thursday, April 29, 2010 — by Will Schuester
Emily Hudson Fabray was born at 1:37 am on Thursday, April 29, 2010.
She's beautiful.
This Glee story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.