"I hear it was electrical." One said.
"I though someone was smoking in the meeting room? Didn't it start on the curtains in there?" Another chimed in.
"Wait, the news said it got hit by lightning." Yet another commented.
The entire student and staff population of Dalton Academy was standing behind the police barrier, staring at their once stately school. Half of it was already reduced to a charred, black shell, and the rest was still engulfed in flames. They had all gotten a message from the principal early this morning via phone tree, telling them not to come to school, explaining the fire, saying that it probably wouldn't close the school down for too long, and so on and so forth, but no one could bare to stay away. By now, though, it was plainly clear that this would, indeed, close the school down for a very, very long time.
Blaine sat on the hood of his car, staring at the smoldering building crumbling before his eyes. His blazer was strewn on the roof behind him, and his polished shoes sat next to him. He could tell that everyone was sad, but he in particular felt a certain pain in his chest at the sight of his school falling. It had been a place of refuge for him, and to see it gone, he suddenly felt unsure. Where were 700 displaced high school guys going to go to school for the rest of the year? Where was he going to go to school for the rest of the year?
A yellow leaf fell into his lap, and he was suddenly very aware that he still had nine months of his senior year left, and he wouldn't be spending it with the Warblers. Just as he thought that thought, every single one of the group meandered solemnly away from the line of firemen, and towards Blaine. It took him a while, over the sound of sirens, rushing water and chatting people, but he soon realized that they were humming.
"Do we really think this is a good time?" he asked, not quite feeling up to singing anything at the moment. Wes replied,
"Do we really think there's a better time?"
And together they sang "Amazing Grace" for two hours as the parking lot emptied.
Five hours later, he was sitting on his bed, waiting for the numbers on his clock to change from 2:59 to 3:00, knowing that no earlier than three would Kurt be home.
He needed desperately to talk to him. He had news. After he had gotten home from the sad and impromptu concert in the parking lot, and his mom had lectured him about hanging around police scenes, she had told him that an email had been sent to the parents of Dalton students. Blaine and everyone else at Dalton had the option to either home school for the year it would take to rebuild the school, or be transferred to one of fourteen other schools in the area. Twelve of these options had been private schools. But two had not. One of these two was McKinley.
The second the time changed, he jumped up and grabbed his phone. Speed dial was not speedy enough.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon…pick up, pick up, pick up, pick—HEY!"
"Hey, yourself. What's up?" Kurt sounded tired, and Blaine could hear his bag hit the floor of his room as he dropped it.
"Well, there was a fire at Dalton today, and I—"
"OH MY GOSH, ARE YOU OKAY?" Kurt screamed, his voice rising to almost a squeak with strain.
"I'm fine, I'm fine; no one was at school. No one knows what happened…other than the fact that the building was completely destroyed," he heard Kurt gasp.
"That's terrible. What's going to happen to everyone? What's going to happen to the Warblers…" he gasped again. "Blaine, what are you going to do for the rest of the year?"
"Actually, that's what I called to tell you about…" As he told Kurt about the email, and about the options, and about the one, very particular option, he could almost feel the excitement through the phone.
"So, what does this mean?" Blaine could tell Kurt was smiling as he talked.
"Um…it means I'm coming to McKinley."
"You made that decision fast." Thad shot across the room.
"Can you blame him?" Wes fired back. "Don't get mad at everyone else just because your mom is making you home school."
The Warblers sat in the den of Blaine's home that weekend, having their first whole meeting since the fire. Tensions were high as most members shared their plans for the rest of the year, some lucky few finding that they would have company, and some finding that they would be completely alone. The atmosphere was awkward, their blazers had been left home, and the casualness of the event felt foreign.
"Look," Blaine began. "I'm really sorry that we're being split up, and I'm really, really sorry that not all of us have someone to go to at our new schools, but hostility will get us nowhere." This statement was met with mixed reactions: supportive nods from some, annoyed eye-rolls from others. "We need to stay a group if the Warblers are ever going to live on for the years of incoming singers after us."
"Here, here." David said, nodding affirmatively. "We will meet at least twice a month, and we will perform as we have been, understood? We will not let this break us…If there are no further comments, I would like to adjourn this meeting—" but when he reached forward for his gavel, he recoiled sadly, reminded of how much really was lost. "Um…" he cleared his throat. "Good luck to all of you."
"Blaine…? Blaine…? Hello-o-o, Blaine…? Earth to Blaine!" Kurt snapped his fingers in Blaine's face, and he shook out of the fog he had been in. "Jeez. Are you okay? You've been a bit out of it."
"Um, yeah. Totally…I'm fine." He sighed, took a sip of his coffee and shifted nervously in the café chair.
"No you're not." Kurt said suddenly.
"What do you mean? Of course I am!" he said indignantly.
"No, you're not. You're thinking too much. There's something bothering you. What is wrong?"
"It's just…I…Going back to public school…Outside of the protection that…I can't…I'm…" he faded off and dropped his head to his chest, staring down to the table.
"Hey…" Kurt took his hand. "Don't worry, okay? Remember what you told me?"
Blaine looked up, a strand of his curly black hair falling into his face. He smiled, but Kurt could see his eyes were wet.
"You said that you regretted leaving your old school. You told me that you wish you would have stood up for yourself." Blaine squeezed his hand back. "You told me to have courage."
Blaine laughed a quiet laugh, completely oblivious to the rest of the full coffee house, and kissed Kurt on the cheek.
"And now I'm telling you to follow your own advice. You've got some friends at McKinley…Rachel likes you; Santana was ready to, um—injure—Dave for you…and you've got me."
"What more do I need then, right?" For the first time since they had started their conversation, Blaine really smiled. It reached his eyes, and it warmed their little corner of the café.
"Right." Kurt said, with an air of satisfaction. They stood to leave, and Kurt continued about school. "We can carpool, and—do you take French?"
"Nope."
"Oh. Oh well, there are plenty of other classes. Let's see…OH MY GOSH!" he stopped short.
"What?" Blaine dragged a babbling Kurt into the parking lot, where at least he could babble without being stared at.
"Blaine…You could be in glee!"
Two weeks from that day at the café, Kurt picked Blaine up. After giving him a once-over, Kurt had decided that the four years of uniform wearing had not hampered his fashion sense, and they drove happily towards McKinley.
Sitting in Kurt's car in the parking lot, Blaine took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, walking shoulder to shoulder with him towards the doors.
"Yeah," he sighed. "I think so."
And they strode side by side into the school, ready to take on the world together, ready for a change.