It turns out that the slushy wasn’t just ice, sugar, and food coloring; whatever was in it damaged Blaine’s eye so badly he’s going to need surgery. Mr. Schue blah blah blahs that the police can’t do anything unless there’s proof the slushy was “tampered with,” which is idiotic; the fact is, Sebastian threw something in Blaine’s eye that caused him to need surgery. That’s assault. Doesn’t Blaine have parents?
Kurt sums it up very well as far as I’m concerned when he says flatly: “Sebastian is evil. He needs to be expelled.”
“Look, Figgins and I spoke to Dalton’s headmaster,” Will says. “They’re opening up an investigation. So guys, I’m telling you, please let the system handle this one.”
Artie thinks that’s as big a load of crap as I do, although he’s thinking revenge, not the cops. “No! Dalton’s old school, Mr. Schue. They’re not going to turn their back on one of their own. They need payback.”
What happened to Dalton’s zero-tolerance policy for bullying, I wonder? It only applies to its own students, I guess.
Mike’s with Artie, saying, “An eye for an eye.”
“No! I have a zero tolerance policy for violence of any kind,” Will says. “That’s not how we do things.” Really, I don’t want to see them beat Sebastian up. I want to see Blaine and his parents press charges against him for assault. Why does this have to be such a false choice?
Artie sneers that all they ever do about their problems is sing, and Will says if they do anything else, they’ll get disqualified from Regionals.
“I don’t give a damn about Regionals!” Artie explodes. “What do you expect from us? We’re people. I know the rest of the world might not see us like that, but when they tease us and throw stuff at us and toss us in dumpsters and tell us that we’re nothing but losers with stupid dreams, it freaking hurt.
“And we’re supposed to turn the other cheek and be the bigger man by telling ourselves that those dreams and how hard we work make us better than them, but it gets pretty damn hard to fell that way when they always get to win.”
Will tries to placate him. “I get how upsetting this is for you… “
“No! You don’t!” Artie almost yells. “And don’t give me any of that ‘it gets better’ crap, because I’m not interested in it getting any better. I want it to be better, like right now. I want to hurt them the way they hurt us. No, worse. I want them to feel my pain because frankly, that’s all I have left to give.”
Wow. I still am not into the violence, but Artie owned that scene.
Will tells Artie to leave the room and get a grip on himself. Artie steps out of his wheelchair (clue that this is a fantasy sequence) and he and Mike stalk out of the room and re-enact the Michael and Janet Jackson video to the song “Scream,” with Mike as Janet and Artie as Michael. It was a pretty faithful version of the original video, which was cool, but too over the top for me.
In real time, Will is calling Artie’s name, and finally brings him out of his dream. Artie just answers, “I think I’d better roll away.” And he does.
Rachel heads for the lady’s room, where she and Quinn have most of their in-depth conversations. She tells Quinn she needs her advice about “an adult problem.”
“Holy crap, are you pregnant?” Quinn says.
But that’s not it. “No. Look, I’m coming to you as a friend, and oddly because I also think you’re the only person that’ll give me just a straightforward and thoughtful answer about this.”
“You’re right,” Quinn says. “I’m sorry. Yes, I can keep a secret.”
“Okay,” Rachel says. “Finn asked me to marry him.”
The look on Quinn’s face is priceless, but all she says is, “What did you say?”
“I said I needed to think about it.”
“Well, you can’t,” Quinn says decisively. A thousand fan fics take that as the starting point for Quinn’s declaration of love, but instead, Rachel just blah blah blahs about true love and how Finn is “the one” until Quinn cuts her off by holding up an envelope.
“What’s that?” Rachel asks.
“My ticket out of here,” Quinn says. “I got into Yale early admissions. Turns out my essay about overcoming adversity while maintaining a straight A average during a teen pregnancy really turned on the admissions board.”
Rachel is happy for her, and they hug, and Quinn reminds her of her dreams of NYADA. Rachel, not at all sure she’s going to get into NYADA, blathers about the New York mail being “notoriously slow,” but Quinn knows what the whole thing is about, and tells her so.
“My point being, is that I’ve dated Finn, Puck, Sam,” she says. “Even thought I loved some of them. But by the time the snow falls in New Haven next winter, I won’t know why.”
Sing it, Quinn.
Rachel is upset. “So, are you saying that Finn and I should break up?”
Quinn shakes her head. “I’m all for making the most of the next few months, but I’d hate the idea of dragging an anchor from my past into the bright lights of my future.” Her voice softens. “Rachel, you have an amazing life ahead of you. As hard as it may be, if you want everything that you’ve ever dreamed of, you’re going to have to break up with him.”
Rachel, apparently forgetting she’d asked for an honest, no bs opinion, says, “That’s an awful thing to say.”
So Quinn reminds her. “Look, you wanted straight and thoughtful. I guess at one point, it made sense to love someone for your whole life, but it doesn’t anymore. Women are finding themselves in their 30s now, every magazine says it. We hardly know what we’re going to want in 15 years.”
I have never, ever loved Quinn more. This is the smart, feminist Quinn who sang “It’s a Man’s World.” This is who she was always meant to be. Not psycho baby stealing skank Quinn (however hot she was in the pink hair).
Rachel’s floundering. “I mean, Finn and I, we can grow together…”
“Look, Rachel,” Quinn says, “You and Finn are a lovely couple. But if you really want to be happy, you’re going to have to say goodbye.”
This morphs into Quinn singing Michael Jackson’s “Never Can Say Goodbye” in a variety of outfits and settings, with images and mementos of her recent troubled past everywhere, including a gardenia with a light green ribbon and a photo of Puck and Beth. It’s incredibly moving and she looks stunningly, painfully beautiful in a black sequined evening gown and big eyelashes, but to be honest, her voice doesn’t bring anything to this song. Sorry, Quinn fans.
At the end we fade to the choir room where she’s wearing one of the hideously unflattering jacket and dress outfits they’ve been putting her in since she de-skanked, and Mr. Schue invites her to tell the choir that she got into Yale. Everyone is happy for her, although Rachel and Kurt have odd looks on their faces.