Kurt sat in the passenger seat of his step brother's jeep, staring at the approaching school.
"You know," his step brother, Finn, said, "it doesn't look much like a school."
"That's because it isn't. Its more of a clinic for messed up teens."
"You're not messed up," Finn mumbled, pulling into the school. "You're just-"
"A kid with a phobia problem that can and will be cured." He looked over at Finn, "yeah, I know." Finn sighed and they drove in silence for the next forty seconds until they pulled up to the curb of the school.
"Thanks Finn," Kurt grabbed his bag, moving his hand to the door.
"Wait," Kurt felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned his head, looking back at Finn. "You've got everything?" Kurt sighed, annoyed.
"Yes Finn. After going here for three years, you don't have to go through the 'check list'." Finn shrugged, moving his hand back to the wheel.
"Burt's orders." Kurt groaned, pulling his bag onto his lap.
"Homework, check. Flashlight, check. Phone, check. Medication, check. Can I go now?" Finn nodded.
"Just following orders buddy. I'll come get you at three." Kurt hopped out of the jeep, waving his step brother goodbye.
Turning around, Kurt faced the clinic that pretended to be a school. He sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder, walking and pushing open the doors, granting himself entrance.
The floor and ceiling were spotless white. No posters supporting clubs or future prom were are on wall. In fact, the only color in this school was from the lockers, which were a faint blue. According to the teachers, it was to keep kids calm while they were away from the safety of their homes.
Kurt walked forward, head high, not making eye contact with anyone. He turned a right corner, making his way to his locker. Right, left, left, straight, right. Same routine every morning, same locker since freshman year.
A constant routine is good. Something to rely on is the first step to recovery.
Kurt rolled his eyes at his therapists voice echoing in his head. Kurt swung his locker open, pulling out his history book along with his math, and returning his language arts binder to the metal box. He glanced at his watch; it was 7:25, five minutes before class started. He sighed, making his way to room 012. Today was going to be a long day.
Blaine Anderson sat in the back of his parent's car, staring out the window, taking in Ohio.
"Blaine, read out your schedule for me again," his mother asked from the passenger seat.
"Lisa, you already have it memorized," the boy's father argued from the drivers seat.
"Repetition is good for him, helps with the anxiety."
"It's helping your anxiety. It is doing nothing for mine. In fact, it's making me more nervous." Blaine poked his head around the headrest to look at his mom.
"Did you take your meds today?"
"Yeah," Blaine replied, looking at his dad. "The green ones anyways."
"Blaine!" His mother twisted around, her brown eyes that matched his looked at him in worry.
"What?" He responded, leaning back in his seat again. "The blue ones aren't required."
"No, but they help!"
"Mom, how am I supposed to get better if I'm relying on a little blue pill?" His mom responded with silence, and Blaine suddenly felt guilty for making her worry. "But I do have them with me, and I promise to take one if something happens." He saw his mother nod her head, and he leaned his head back, letting his eyes close.
"Don't fall asleep buddy," his dad scolded. "We're here." Blaine re – opened his eyes, gazing out the window.
"A hospital? You said it was a school, not a hospital!" Blaine un – buckled his seatbelt, ready to bolt out if needed.
"The school is behind the hospital honey." Blaine didn't relax until he saw the separate building.
By the time they parked and walked to the doors, Blaine's hands were shaking. He stuffed them in his pockets, pushing the door open with his shoulder.
All the walls, floors and ceiling were white; the only color was from the lockers, which were light blue. Blaine shifted uncomfortably. The setting reminded him of a hospital setting, allowing painful memories to flood back into his brain.
He vaguely heard a door open before a woman with shot blonde hair and a bright red track suit stood in front of them. Blaine stared at her, hoping he wasn't drooling.
"Whatcha staring at kid?" Blaine dropped his gaze, blushing.
"Really bright red, that's all."
"Hmm. I'm assuming that you are Mr. and Mrs. Anderson…" In all honesty, Blaine really didn't mean to stare. After moving from California to Ohio, all he seemed able to see was grey. That track suit was the brightest thing he's seen in two weeks.
"Follow me." Blaine snapped out of his daze, following the woman to what he expected to be her office. "Sit." She commanded once they stepped in. the three Anderson's sat in unison, both Lisa and Blaine crossing their legs.
"My name is Sue Sylvester. I'm the principle here, and the cheerleading coach at the school two blacks away." She swiveled her rollie chair around, digging through files. "Blaine Everett Anderson?"
"That's me." Blaine mumbled. Sue turned back to them, read off a file.
"Moved here from California due to request of a Doctor to attend this school." Sue looked up, "is that the only reason? Due to a doctor's request?"
"Yes. I didn't know about this school before the…" Blaine trailed off, memories playing tauntingly from behind his eyes. The net, cries for help, and the screaming. Oh the screaming…
"Since we learned he was diagnosed." His mother intervened.
"Well then," Sue put down the folder along with her reading glasses. "Blaine, I want you to know that at McKinley, we cant cure you, but we can help you adapt to environments that would normally cause you to have a panic attack." Blaine simply nodded, looking down at his hands, which were folded into his lap. "Also, we don't have a dress code here, but we encourage that you wear what you believe would be appropriate for a school that hosts people with these kind of conditions." Blaine nodded numbly, a faint sound echoing in his ears. It sounded familiar…
"Second to lat thing," Sue was now addressing the whole family, "if your son wishes to participate in clubs or sports, he has to apply to Orville high school two blocks away. Last thing," she looked directly back at Blaine, "some students, due to their certain diagnose, have adapted a way of living differently. For example, we have a sophomore who fears growing old. Her mind copes by forcing her to believe she is only six years old." She pointed a finger at Blaine, her eyes hard, "I do not tolerate bullying. I will expel you if I hear anything about you bullying other students. Understand?"
"Oh, Blaine wont have a problem with that." His father said confidently.
"Good." She lounged back in her chair. "I will need to speak to your parents a bit more. I assume you know your schedule?"
"Yea." He replied quietly. His brain was starting to hurt…
"Excellent. You may go then." Blaine blinked, standing up and walking out of the office. The school was small; he'd be able to find his way around. Right?
He sighed and started looking for his pre – calculus room, room 017. Today was going to be a long day.
A/N: What do you guys think? Good, not good, should I continue? Reviews are greatly appreciated and thanks for reading!