KURT POV
I never wanted to go to McKinley high school. When I was in Primary and Middle School, I went to the younger sections of Dalton Academy. Have you heard of it? It's a private school, all-boys. They have a strict no-bullying policy which back then I took for granted. I was on scholarship; I was not half as rich as the other boys, but they humored me and let me come along with them wherever they went. Sometimes where we went was not a good place, but back then I was naïve and followed the crowd. I was a boarder, so my parents were none the wiser to the bad things I was doing.
Anyways. Back to McKinley. I switched there my freshman year (last year), and I hated it with a passion, as I do now. Being the new kid, I got (and still have) the pleasure of a dumpster toss every freaking morning, at least one slushee in the face a day, locker slams, slurs, (of course they all thought I was gay as soon as they looked at me. My looks can be a curse sometimes. I wished I was straight to prove them wrong) and anything else you can think of, really. At first I would stand up for myself and tell them off, but all they would do is laugh. And I stopped having the energy, really, as Dad became more and more depressed. Which brings me to the reason of the switch: after my mother died, my dad became really, really depressed (as I just told you) and sort of just... stopped working, stopped doing anything, stopped functioning really. So that summer when she died, I switched schools to take care of my dad. Some days I wonder, though: Did I do the right thing? Is it worth it when I'm miserable all the time? And then I will tell myself, yes, yes it is. How could you be so selfish?
Today, I stand outside my school, a.k.a. hell. I'm hoping maybe this year I might make some friends? Maybe I could try out for glee club, but I'd never get in. Plus, I hate everyone in that club. They're the most popular people in the school, and they're also douchebags. I wonder if they actually like to perform or whether they just want to be popular. Probably the latter. The lead singer and most popular guy in the school, Blaine Anderson shoves past me. He scowls.
"Watch it, fag." He spits, and struts off. I hate that kid. I hate him so much. He is the worst out of all of them, a homophobic asshole. I flip him off as he walks away. He unfortunately doesn't see.
"He seems like a real dick." Someone says behind me. Thinking it's someone in their own conversation, I sigh and start to walk down the hall once more.
"Hey, are you always this rude?" I realize the voice is directed towards me. I turn around to see a short girl with tan skin and brown hair and brown eyes with flecks of gold coming toward me.
"Oh." I blink. "Sorry. No one.. No one really talks to me so I just assumed you were in your own conversation. What did you say?" I'm surprised at how nervous I feel; has it really been so long that I've had a proper conversation with someone?
"He can't be, he doesn't have one." I mutter to myself. The girl, apparently having heard me, snorts with laughter. She walks closer.
"I'm Jordan." She says, sticking out her hand. I'm a bit surprised but I shake it. "I'm new, actually." She says. "I came from New Jersey." At my raised eyebrows hastens to tell me, "Not the Snooki part or the Newark part. It's near New York, called Montclair. It's suburban." I laugh at her explanation of where she was from. But why was she explaining this all to me?
"Okay..." I say as though it's a question. Cocking her head to the side a bit, she shrugs her shoulders and asks,
"What's your name?" Oh. After her long explanation I had forgotten to tell her my own name. I'm tempted to tell her, 'Well, according to the kids in this town my name is stupid fag, but you can call me Kurt.' Her jaw drops and she stares at me.
"Don't say that word!" She borderline yells at me. Oh. I had accidentally said it aloud...
Her reaction surprised me. Most kids in this town think of the slur as normal vocabulary. I look around nervously to make sure no one noticed the outburst.
"Sorry." I say, hushed.
"So you're gay?" She asks.
"Um, yeah." I laugh nervously
"Ditto." She grins. I feel like all the air has been knocked out of me.
"C-c-cool." I stutter. This is a surprise. All the gay kids here are so far in the closet they're in Narnia. But this girl is out and proud. It makes me smile.
"So what grade are you in?" She inquires.
"I'm a sophomore."
"Me too! What homeroom?" I check my schedule.
"I have… Waters."
"Are you serious? That's awesome! This is gon' be awesome!" She has a loud voice and is very excitable, this girl. Anything and everything seems to make her happy. I like it. It's refreshing. We walk together to our homeroom and sit next to each other. Have I really made an actual friend? It's really surreal, but it makes me happy… a feeling I haven't felt in a while. We sit down and our homeroom teacher, Mr. Waters, blunders in, slouching and stumbling.
"Hello, class." He mumbles, his bald head shining in the dim lights of the classroom. His eyes are drooping a bit and he sinks down in a chair. "I'll be your homeroom teacher for the year. I may also teach some of you Algebra II." Jordan scrunches up her nose and leans in to me, whispering,
"Dude, are all teachers here like that? Because if we're going to have all alcoholic teachers with hangovers, I might have to move back to New Jersey." She's joking, of course, but she's right; our chubby teacher is still slouching in his seat, his eyes fluttering open and closed like he's trying not to fall asleep. Said eyes have large, dark circles under them, and his long beard looks like a big grey bush. I giggle, deciding to let the dude slide.
"You're right." He hasn't even said anything else; is he snoring?
"Do you have 'im for math?" She asks me.
"Um…" again I check my schedule. "Oh, I do." I say disappointedly. She glares at me.
"That's a good thing, you dunce, that's an easy A. A+ even, lucky bastard." I see where she's coming from. Yeah, maybe this could be good. You know what? Maybe this might be a decent year. Who knows? Jordan and I compares schedules and find we actually are in the same English ("Yay! Now English will be my even more favorite subject!" I laugh at her grammatical error as she says she loves English class.), French ("Fuck, I hate French!") and AP World History ("Well, maybe you can make stupid history fun.")
The bell rings and Mr. Waters drones, "Goodbye, boys and girls. Have a nice day." He sounds so sincere. Okay. Well today, my first period class is AP World History, with Jordan. The girl walks up behind me, grinning, and says,
"I could beat you there." I raise an eyebrow.
"Are we five now?"
"Common Kurt, please?" So we race, like we're little five year old children running to their mother. I feel like I already know Jordan so well. She is ahead of me and she slips into the classroom, a smirk firmly on her chase.
"Come on, you got a head start!" I yell at her. And suddenly I crash into someone and my belongings-along with me- go crashing to the floor. I shake my head and begin to gather my things. A hand give me my pencil case.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't-" I stop when I see who's handing me the pencil case. It was Blaine. So instead of finishing off my apology, I narrow my eyes and shove past him again, not even bothering to help him pick up his stuff, or thank him. I walk into the classroom, and my heart sinks when I see there are no available seats next to my new friend. She's about to move when the teacher walks in.
"Class!" She says, sounding awfully happy for a teacher. "My name is Misses Stadler, and I will be your World History teacher. Now take your seats, these are where you'll be sitting for the rest of the semester." Seeing Jordan get up, she says sternly, "Sit back in your seat, Misses I-Don't-Know-Your-Name-Yet. No switching seats." I sit down in the last available seat… in the front row, next to the boy I hate so much. Talk about bad luck. Misses Stadler begins to talk about the course. She talks for around twenty minutes, and after she's done explaining and handing out packets and things we'll need, she tells us,
"Alright. So this course is a bit different than others… you will be assigned a partner that you will work with on most assignments over the year. Anytime we have partnered projects, this person is the one you will be paired with. No switching." She beings counting us off in twos, asking us our names and pairing us up, and… oh no no no no…
"Name?" She asks me.
"Kurt Hummel."
"Name?" She asks Blaine.
"Blaine Anderson."
"Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson… you two are partners." Great. This is just my luck. To my surprise, Blaine is acting awkwardly and says,
"Alright, so… she said to start with the first Chapter, First Section of the book, right?"
"Um, yeah." We open our books to page 1 and start to read. When I finish, I grumble,
"She's assigning us a project on the first day? Are you kidding me?" Blaine jolts up, looking incredulous.
"How the hell did you read that fast?" Kurt shrugs.
"Fast reader, I guess." Blaine shakes his head and turns back to his book, eyebrows furrowed. His expression slowly turns to one of confusion and disbelief.
"Your task is to write a paper on the partner you have been assigned. Design a set of questions to ask your partner and create a thesis statement based on the answers. Write your paper as though you do not personally know the person." Blaine reads, sounding mystified. Great. This is just great. I look over at Jordan to see who she got paired with. She's laughing and talking animatedly with… oh god, the poor girl got paired with Santana Lopez. She's also in Glee club, and if that doesn't give me enough of a reason to hate her, her being the school slut sure as hell does. I bet there's no one guy in our grade- hell, our school, she hasn't slept with. Besides me, of course. I wonder what they're talking about.
JORDAN POV
I saw Kurt get paired with that asshole we saw in the hall. I feel bad for him, but I'm selfishly more focused on my own partner possibilities: To my right, an african american dude with a large nose and a buzz cut, who's picking his nose and wearing a letterman jacket. To my left, a latina girl. She's bored and not even trying to hide it, chewing gum with perfectly straight teeth. Her feet are on her desk, exposing tan, muscles thighs. Her brown eyes are examining long red fingernails, dark straight hair up in a ponytail. As the teacher walks over to us, I realize the jock as just been paired up… meaning I'm with the girl to my left. For the whole year.
"Alright you two. Names?"
"Jordan Sanchez."
"Santana Lopez." Santana. Her name was similar to my last name, but pretty. Like her.
"You two are partners." Miss Stadler says. "Open your books and get cracking!" Santana immediately delves into her book, but before she can read much, I interrupt,
"I'm Jordan." I stick out my hand, but she ignores it, not even glancing up.
"So I've heard." She says dryly. I frown and turn to my book. Could I be stuck with a jerk all year? I sigh and quietly and start to read as well.
""Hey." I look up to see Santana. "I'm sorry, I'm just pissed I'm not paired with my best friend. Well, sort of best friend." I'm not going to pry, and the way she says it makes it clear I'm not welcome to ask anyway. But I still can't help but wonder.
"S'alright." I tell her. "I can be a bitch when I'm pissed too." She raises her eyebrows and I hasten to explain. "I'm not saying that you were being a bitch… I'm just…" I trail off. The girl beside me looks highly amused. "I can't win here, can I?"
"No, you can't." She agrees, sounding cross, but the small smile she wears tells me she's not mad. We both turn back to our books and begin to read the section. The assignment surprise me; it's very different from any paper I've ever had to write. But with Santana, maybe it could actually be fun.
KURT POV
At the end of class, I ask Blaine for his number. He looks at me like I have two heads.
"Um, yeah. I don't swing that way. Sorry." There's a bit of a condescending tone that confuses me for a moment. Then I realize: he thought I was asking him out?
"No, you stupid ignorant bastard." He looks shocked. "I'm not asking you out. The thought of dating you makes me sick. We're partners, unfortunately for me, and I need your number so we can work on the project. Don't worry, I wouldn't ask you out of even deign to have a voluntary conversation with you if you were the last guy on earth." By that time Blaine is red with embarrassment,. He takes out a piece of paper and scrawls out his number, folding it and handing it to me, avoiding eye contact.
"I'll call you." I say shortly, still mad. I take the paper and grab my books, looking over my shoulder at him. "Don't worry, I won't sext you. I know that's what you were thinking. But the fact is, the thought is appalling. With all of these nonexistent thought being conversed I may barf." Maybe that may have been a bit much, but I storm out so dramatically it would give Rachel Berry (who is famous for her over-the top storm-outs in our school) a run for her money.
JORDAN POV
Class ends and I actually almost groan. Santana and I had spent the whole time time after reading talking. She's actually really cool, yeah, a little mean, but smart and funny. She is also very guarded. It makes me wonder what the hell she's hiding. We exchange numbers.
"This is gonna actually be fun!" I say excitedly. So sometimes I'm a little over the top.
"Don't get your hopes up." She replies wryly, rolling her eyes.
But I am getting my hopes up. I have a year to figure out this girl. And I will.
