Chapter Text
(April 30th, 2003)
"Hey Mr. Finn! Where do you want the new lights?" called Zack Mooneyham, the lead guitarist of Horace Green's own School of Rock, now 13 and prospering in his talents as a musician and vice president to the after-school music tutoring program managed by his bossy yet loyal friend Summer Hathaway, who is a leading member of the school's student council and president of the program. The program was created for any students wanting to pursue their musical interests but just never got the chance.
"Uh, just leave 'em there for now. Mason was gonna do a run on the old ones to see if any are worth saving," replied Dewey Finn, his days of committing identity theft to pay the rent are far behind him. Because now, after enrolling into an online college, gaining an actual teaching degree and license he’s finally got a job he’s proud of. With support from his students, the love of his life and now spouse Rosalie Mullins, and his best friend Ned, he has really straightened out in life. He’s still the same old wild maniac he’s always been, but is now trying his hardest to be a good role model to these kids as the head of the program. Now with a steady job and a decent income, he was able to move out of Ned's and obtain his own apartment for him and his wife.
Being married to your boss does come with some added perks though. His favorite being the band's yearly performance at the spring pep rally. This is their second year running, and they’re hoping to make it even better than the previous. With some fundraisers and personal donations, the band was able to make just enough to invest in some new equipment for the show, which they are installing today.
"Come on, people, hurry it up! The pep rally is this Friday. We need to get this stuff up and running, preferably before we graduate," yelled Summer Hathaway to the whole auditorium in her usual demanding tone.
"Ah, Katie! Have you seen Freddy? He was supposed to bring the extension cords down ten minutes ago."
"Uh, I think…" Katie takes a glance around. "Oh! There he is, it looks like Billy snagged him to try on the new costumes." The bassist remarks as she points to where a small congregation of children have formed, each holding a new set of uniforms.
"Ugh!" Summer exclaims as she power walks away from her friend and straight toward the group, grumbling to herself about the time crunch and how she is the only one who gets anything done around here. Her knuckles whiten a bit due to the iron grip she has on her clipboard. She’s about to reach the group until she’s stopped by a hand lightly grabbing her shoulder from behind.
"Whoa, easy there Little Mrs. Sunshine," the agitated girl looks back to find it was the voice of her teacher. "What's got you so pissed?" he asks, letting go of her shoulder with an amused yet concerned expression.
The young teen takes in a sharp breath, donning a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her obviously annoyed eyes.
"Mr. Finn," she says with fake cheer, "I don't believe that you, or anyone here realizes, or cares for that matter, that we were supposed to have the lights up and running last week, the costumes already fitted, the fog machines tested, and—!"
"Ah, bup, bup, bup, bup. Shh," the man says, placing a finger on the girl's lips to shush her. Mildly offending the teen. "C'mon, Summer, take a breath. Here, let me take a look at that schedule of yours." He opens his hand toward the clipboard she’s still tightly grasping by her side, the gesture being more an ask than demand. It takes her a second to get back her senses, but she reluctantly hands it over.
"Let's take a look, shall we?" he says eccentrically. "Hmm…mhm…yep." He scans over the paper with a fake 'deep in thought' expression. "Ah, well, let's see. Today is Tuesday, the performance is on Friday, so that gives us…" he quickly counts on his fingers "…52 hours!"
"48 hours," the girl corrects, crossing her arms.
"Whatever, that's still plenty of time," Dewey says, waving a hand in the air with a calm grin, until he sees the still very stressed expression on his student's face.
"Look Summer, you know we all appreciate you for your dedication to the band. Heck, that's why you're the manager. But you're getting yourself all worked up for nothing." He hands the board back and crouches a bit so they’re at the same eye level.
"The whole point of this program is for you guys to have fun, so all that worry and stress junk isn’t hanging over your head." He musses the girl's hair a bit with his knuckles, which she doesn’t seem to appreciate.
"I know you feel like there’s a lot of pressure on you right now to be perfect, because, well, that’s what you think we need you to be. What you're missing though is that all of this isn’t about being perfect. I mean, c'mon, we’re called the School of Rock for heavens sake, you think this is the place where people care about your image?”
He rises up again. "Being in charge can feel pretty heavy, and usually it isn't very metal." His bad pun earns an amused scoff from the girl.
"But yeah, I won't fight you on the point of us lacking time management skills. So, whaddya say? We get these little gremlins back on track?" He gives her a pat on the back with a smile.
She takes in a long breath and releases it, her tension noticeably leaving.
"Okay," she agrees.
"Alright! That's the Summer I know!" he says playfully shooting finger guns at her. "Let's get this thing rolling!"
The teen gives him a smile, a real one this time, and adjusts her stance so she is able to see the whole room.
"Alright, everyone, listen up! We only have two days left to finish setting up the auditorium for the spring pep rally. And unless you guys want to stay here the whole night, I highly recommend we get on with it!" Summer yells to the room tapping her pencil against her clipboard and falling back into her usual state of command.
"Freddie! Bring those cables down. I don't want to ask you a third time."
"On it!" The drummer sets down his uniform and runs to grab the equipment.
"Billy, save handing out uniforms until after we have a prepared stage to wear them on. Go help James run a test on the fog machines."
"Fine," replies the band's stylist, though he isn't very pleased about it.
"Katie, Zach, Lawrence, start hooking up the amps. I want to rehearse the song list in a few minutes."
The three kids give her an energetic nod and get to work.
"And lastly, Mr. Finn." This catches Dewey off guard for a second because he was too busy watching and being caught in the moment to remember that he’s employed.
"Will you track down Mason? I would like to get that run on the old lights done as soon as possible."
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Dewey replies, giving her a mock salute. "I think he might be in the tech booth, but I'll check." He pats the girl's head along with giving her a big thumbs up and grin as he hops off the stage.
He walks by the many aisles of seats, with the sound of the kids setting up behind him. He's in his head right now, relishing in the fact that his students are practically the best thing that's ever happened to him. To the point where he can't even put into words how proud he is of each and every one of em, until he makes it to the lobby doors. When he steps out, endorphins immediately rush through him because he has just been graced with the most radiant sight his unworthy eyes could gaze upon: his wife.
"Helloooo, Mrs. Mullins," he says in a bashful voice as he walks over to the woman. She’s standing in the lobby putting her phone back into her purse, seemingly after a call, when she notices her husband, who has come over to kiss her on the cheek.
"What brings a goddess such as yourself to bless me, a mere mortal, with your presence during work hours?" he asks, batting his eyes as he looks up at her.
“Oh stop that.” She says as she gives him a playful slap on the shoulder and a returning kiss on the cheek.
"The board called today. They scheduled a surprise meeting for all principals in the county to go over the new child transportation policy. I believe this one might run a bit long, not counting the drive, so I came to say that I'll probably get home later than preferable." Rosalie states with an exasperated and annoyed sigh.
The woman takes a quick look down at her watch which seems to startle her.
"In fact, if I don't start driving now, I'll be late!" she says frantically as she gives her husband one final kiss and quickly makes her way to the doors to the parking lot, giving Dewey a wave as she runs out.
"Oh, uh, alright, see you then! I love—" he yells to the woman, giving her a wave back, but the door has already closed. "—you."
He releases a breath, still staring at the door with a small smile. He has no clue what he's done in his life to deserve someone like Rosalie as a wife, but he makes it a point every day to make sure she’ll never regret saying "I do."
He stands there for a second, too busy with his feelings to really think straight, until it hits him.
"Oh shoot, lights!" He rushes over to the door to the tech booth, and when he opens it, he finds Mason on his laptop. Just as he suspected.
"Hey, Mason. Summer wanted to do that run on the old lights now. Are we set for that?"
"Uh, let me check." the student clicks a few last things on his computer and when he seems satisfied, he gives a thumbs up. "Yep! We're all ready to go!"
Dewey returns the gesture. "Nice, thanks man. Start 'em up." He says with a smile before he starts making his way back to the stage.
When he arrives he gives Summer, who is talking with some other kids at the moment, a nod as he points to the lights above. This seems to please her, as she marks something off on her clipboard.
Center stage, Zack, Lawrence, Katie, Tomika, and Freddie (who has finally gotten those extension cords) have all finished setting up their equipment and are now rehearsing. Dewey always enjoys listening to them because, well, they're really friggin' awesome, and he's glad to know that they enjoy playing just as much as he does.
"That's sounding great, guys!" he says to the kids as he goes to grab his guitar to join them.
The old lights above are running through the list. Some of them are creaking a bit, and it's easy to tell that they weren't particularly made for the fast-paced movements of a rock concert, but nobody’s really paying any mind to them. They’re too distracted with the amount of fun they're having.
The music‘s blaring from the stage, to the point where it feels as if the whole auditoriums shaking.
Summer’s still talking with the kids when, from the corner of her eye, she notices Mason trying to flag her down as he frantically types commands into his laptop and points to above the stage, right over the band. He seems worried and looks like he's yelling something, but it's hard to make out.
"What?!" Summer yells back at him confused as her gaze follows to where he’s pointing. That’s when she sees it hanging there, swaying right above her teachers head.
"Freddie, can we get a little more snare in there? And Zack, a bit higher up on G—Yeaaah, there it is!" Dewey has to practically yell just so the kids can hear him over the music. But to be honest, aside from the minor adjustment here and there, the kids are more than capable of playing as their own band. They don't need his guidance anymore. They don't even need him. And yeah, that feels like a brick to the face, but something dampens the blow like a sort of pillow. And that pillow would be pride.
These kids, these amazing, amazing kids, have managed to leave him speechless on more occasions than one, and that’s not just due to their talent.
"Mr. Finn."
Heck, if they were his own kids, he wouldn't need any fame or money or anything like that. He'd already have it all.
"Mr. Finn!"
He can't wait to see who they'll grow up to become.
"DEWEY!"
"Huh?" A familiar voice cuts through the music just enough. He looks around and notices one of his students running toward him from the audience seats. Yelling something that's hard to make out over the noise.
"Summer?" Oh geez, something's wrong. Why does she look so scared? Is someone hurt?
Something taps and bounces off his shoulder as it falls to the floor. He looks down to find a screw?
"THE LIGHT!"
"What?"
He looks up, his eyes go wide.
"Oh—"
CRACK!