Kurt sat cross-legged in the styling chair in the centre of the classroom. The lesson had finished and the teacher had left, meaning the demonstration chair in the middle was empty. He was accompanied by a few new friends – fellow aspiring beauticians. He gazed around the sterile white room at the work stations, the styling chairs, all in a blinding white – while his friends chatted idly.
"So how's that boyfriend of yours?" said one girl, suddenly turning to Kurt with a grin. Each blonde curl on her head was perfectly formed and her skin was flawless; she looked like a model.
Kurt snapped out of his daze. The girls laughed.
"He's uh..." Kurt said as he sat up straighter in his chair, "Well, he's..."
"Gorgeous?"
"Perfect?"
"He's..." Kurt sighed, "He's still not over me transferring here."
The girls looked half sympathetic, half jealous. An African-American girl with shining black locks put her hand on Kurt's shoulder.
"Kurt, surely he must realise that you can't become a beautician without going to Beauty School."
"I know..." He shifted in his seat, "It's great here and I love it, but..."
"But?"
"I miss high school. And I miss him." he said, "He's been trying to convince me to go back." He looked up into the faces of his new friends, concern written in his features.
"Do you think I should?"
"Oh, Kurt," they said, "We can't decide that for you! We'd love you to stay but if -"
"I'm no good at this!" burst out Kurt, gesturing around him, "I can't be a beautician! I'm abysmal at everything! I can never keep up with you girls and... Beauty School isn't what I thought it would be. I just wish -"
Suddenly the lights blacked out. Unable to see to move, everyone froze as a loud voice echoed throughout the room.
Your story's sad to tell
A teenage ne'er do well
Most mixed up non-delinquent on the block
Kurt thought he recognised the voice, but it was... different. Anyway, it couldn't be-
Your future's so unclear now
What's left of your career now?
Can't even get a trade in on your smile!
As the music started, Kurt was spun around in his chair to face the doors, where a single light shone, illuminating the entrance. The ornate doors were pulled open to reveal a blazer-clad boy atop a flight of steps, who turned to face his audience.
Boom, ba doom, ba doom, ba doom
He descended a step on each beat.
Ba dada doom
Ba doom, ba doom ba doom
Beauty school dropout
Kurt stared, transfixed, as Blaine meandered towards him.
No graduation day for you
Beauty school dropout
Missed your midterms and flunked shampoo!
The light seemed to follow Blaine as he strolled over to one of Kurt's classmates.
Well at least you could have taken time, to wash and clean your clothes up
After spending all that dough to have the doctor fix your nose up! He told her matter-of-factly.
Baby get moving
He turned back to Kurt.
Why keep your feeble hopes alive
What are you proving?
You've got the dream, but not the drive
Blaine was slowly making his way around the room, Kurt's chair turning to follow him.
If you go for your diploma, you could join a steno pool
Turn in your teasin' comb and go back to high school
Now Blaine was walking towards him, hands in his pockets.
Beauty school dropout
Hanging around the corner store
Beauty school dropout
It's about time you knew the score
As he got closer, Kurt appreciated just how handsome Blaine was. His hair was gelled down, but not enough that you couldn't see his curls, and he always looked good in his Dalton uniform. The girls, just as charmed by Blaine as he was, had begun to add backing vocals to the song. Blaine was standing right in front of him now, singing directly to him.
Well they couldn't teach you anything
You think you're such a looker
But no customer would go to you unless she was a hooker!
Blaine grinned. Kurt scoffed.
Chuckling, Blaine sauntered off towards the empty space between Kurt in the middle and the open doors. The girls followed him and they all danced to the song, with Blaine front and centre and the girls lined up behind him – left, step, turn, click, right, step, turn, click.
Baby don't sweat it (Don't sweat it)
You're not cut out to hold a job
Better forget it (Forget it)
Who wants their hair done by a slob?
Now your bangs are curled, your lashes twirled, but still the world is cruel
Wipe off that angel face and go back to high school
Baby don't blow it
Don't put my good advice to shame
Baby you know it
Blaine's voice was amazing. Well, it was always amazing, but today it was different. He sounded older; his voice was deeper and richer. Kurt didn't want the song to end.
Even dear Abby'd say the same
Now I've called the shot, get off the block, I really gotta fly!
Blaine headed towards the doors and up the stairs. He stood at the top and looked down at Kurt.
Gotta be going to that malt shop, in the sky!
He turned and left down the corridor, turning back only to sing the last lines of the song.
Beauty school dropout
Go back to high school
Beauty school dropout
Go back to high school
Beauty school dropout
Go back to high school...
The doors were closed and full light restored. The whole room rounded on Kurt.
"Go back to high school?" he whispered.