Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

Diary of Kurt Hummel

Day one

Weather: ...are you serious?

Time: 2134

Mood: I want to hurt something. That something being Noah Puckerman.

Fuck Puckerman.

Fucking fuck Puckerman.

I seriously can't even think about him without wanting to snap his neck, the fucking douchebag.

Why am I so pissed off at fucking Puckerman, Di? Well, it's his fault that I'm at a reform school. That's right, Di. Kurt Hummel, the good boy who does no wrong is at a reform school.

A fucking reform school.

I'm swearing a lot, can you tell that I'm pissed?

I don't write in diaries, or keep journals, but the judge and my fucking therapist told me to keep one, so that I can write down all of my "angry thoughts so that I don't act out on them" the douches. It's like they think that they know what's going on in my mind. They have no "ucking idea. Right now, my mind is full of dead corpses that all look like fucking Puckerman. He's on the ground, blood pouring out of his body and I'm laughing, oh how I'm laughing.

Shit.

My therapist is going to read this, I forgot... And I can't erase. Dammit! One of the rules is he reads it in order to judge my sanity. Like he can actually tell how sane I am from reading my journal entries. I could be feeling like killing someone and write about stupid unicorns and butterflies in the journal and the stupid therapist wouldn't have a clue. Hell, I could be plotting the therapists death and he'd sit there all smiled and shit.

Okay, okay. Calm down, Hummel.

So, why am I going to reform school? Because of fucking Puckerman.

He stole an ATM.

I got blamed for part of it.

Fuck my life.

He'd woken me up at three in the morning, told me it was an emergency; I picked him up in my car at the bank, thinking he'd been stranded and shit.

In his arms was the fucking ATM.

He shoved it into my trunk, pulled me out of the drivers seat and into the passengers seat, took the wheel, and floored it. I couldn't believe it. He'd just made me an accessory to robbing. I wanted to slaughter him. I still do.

But before I got the chance the police caught us and we were taken to jail. God, when my dad walked into the police station I about shit my pants. I think Puckerman did shit his, actually. Dad paid for me to get out, but there was going to be a trial, because I was an "accessory" and had to be punished for my heinous crime.

Since the judge seemed to believe me when I said I had no idea of what Puck had called me for, I got off with what was considered easy. Puck? Not so much.

He got sent to juvy.

I got sent to a fucking reform school.

Again, fuck my life.

End of first entry.

Don't forget to smile!

...are you fucking kidding me?

{~*~}

Dalton Academy for boys.

On the outside, it looked like a nice, private establishment for boys whose families had money and wanted their kids to have the best education.

The truth?

It was a nice, private establishment for boys whose families had the money to bribe the judge. Or for the boys who were able to make good deals. Whatever.

The exterior and interior were rather nice, if one looked past the few bars in the windows and the large gates that closed every night at six, I guess. There was a tollbooth at the entrance of the gate so visitors could check in if it was after six. Only family was allowed to visit past eight, though. The actual doors into Dalton were large and heavy, with large locks on the inside so "no one could even think about escaping. You all should be locked up anyway", the security guard told me. His name was Larry.

I didn't like him.

But I'm pretty sure he didn't like me, so whatever.

Boys who went to Dalton boarded, which was another way of saying "we don't trust you to be out in the civilized world, so we're going to put you in a room with someone who likes to play with knives and carve words into things. And yes, that does include skin".

Luckily for me, I didn't have that roommate. My roommate was a boy named Wes, who, according to himself had a problem with hitting things with large objects; some of those things included humans, and the larges objects sometimes included cars. "But the last one was a complete accident," he'd assured me, as if it would make me feel any better.

But for all his quirks, Wes was actually a good kid. He was one of the top students at Dalton, and he wanted to go to Harvard. "I want to get out of this state. Sometimes I think Ohio has made everyone in this school crazy."

I had to say I agreed.

My days consisted of a schedule: wake up, breakfast, morning classes, luch, afternoon classes, then community service, dinner and bed. What a life. I wasn't worried about the classes or the time schedule. What I was worried about was the community service. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Luckily for me (or maybe noy so lucky) Wes helped me figure that out while I was getting ready for my first day.

"I'm sorry, but the what?"

"The Warblers," he said while gathering his books and placing them in his bag. "We're an a Capella glee club, and we do community service by performing at nursing homes, during holidays, stuff like that. We even compete during competition season if all of us have been good." Wes turned to me. Do you sing?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I was in my old school's Glee club."

"What part did you sing?"

"Countertenor, but-"

He lunged forward and grabbed my shoulders. "You have an audition, tonight at five. It's in the senior commons be there." And he left without another word.

I stared at the open door. Maybe he'd been right and all of the boys at Dalton had gone crazy. Picking up my messenger bag I headed out of my room, wanting to make it to my first class on time. Just because I was in reform school didn't mean I wanted to slack.

The students at Dalton all wore a uniform. Don't ask me why, because I don't know and there isn't a reason for it in the manual that I'd been forced to read last night. And while I never thought that I'd end up wearing one (or at a reform school, fucking Puckerman - once you get out of juvy I'm going to castrate you), I had to admit that I looked pretty good in it. As did the other boys.

I managed to make it through my first three classes without any incident, but I didn't end up talking to anyone either. It wasn't until I was getting ready to leave my English class for lunch did someone approach me.

He was tall, blond and had a huge smile on his face. If I'd met him on the street, I wouldn't have even guessed that he went to Dalton. "Hi," he said happily. "My name is Jeff. You're Wes' new roommate, right?"

I nodded and held my hand hand out. "My name is Kurt."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt," he said, shaking my hand. "What did you do to get placed in this place?"

It was an innocent enough question, and I was about to answer it when Wes breezed past us as said, "Don't answer that, Kurt. You'll tell us what you did during your Warblers audition."

Jeff's smile seemed to light up. "Dude, you're auditioning for the Warblers? Awesome!"

I had to smile. Jeff's was infectious. "Yeah, if I get in."

"Let's get to lunch. Maybe all of the whole wheat bread will still be there if we get there early," Wes said, walking quickly out of the room (he'd told me that he never rushed places. Ever - except for when he does).

The walk to the lunch room, Jeff told me more about himself. "I'm in here for being a klepto. I see something nice and I... I just have to have it, you know?"

"Sure," I supplied. "So what was it that got you caught?"

"I stole a gravestone."

...a what?

"I'm sorry?"

He shrugged. "It was a nice one, and I just wanted it. So I took it. Didn't make it very far, though... The cops caught me before I had even made it half a mile. One of the people living near the graveyard saw me and called them."

"You don't seem so bent out of shape about."

He shrugged again, then pointed to the line of food along the wall. "I like it here. Not too bad, and it gets me away from my parents. I made met my best friend here."

I was actually stunned by that. I thought that most people didn't want to be here, and that it was sort of "hey, it's this place or jail" kind of thing. "You don't... mind being here?"

Jeff nodded. "I never really got along with my parents. They're the upper class kind of people, the ones who go out at night to those extravagant parties and bring over an entire family to introduce me to the family's daughter. I dunno, that just wasn't me. They didn't like it, and they definitely didn't like me being a klepto."

Wow... I suddenly felt sorry for the guy. Was it like that for a lot of the boys here?

I made sure to grab the healthiest of everything that I saw, then followed Jeff to a table where two other boys were sitting, along with Wes. A black boy, then a boy with dark brown hair. "Hey guys," Jeff called out, motioning at me. "This is Kurt. The new guy."

I froze. "You guys don't haze, do you?"

Wes shook his head. "I thought that I made you read the handbook? That's not allowed."

"Oh..."

Well, I felt better.

And quite stupid, but I'll take the feeling better any time over feeling stupid.

I sat down next to Jeff, who pointed at the other two boys. "This person here is David," he said pointing to the black boy. "And this guy is my best friend, Nick," he finished, looking happily over at Nick.

"Hi," I said.

They smiled at me, and then Nick leaned forward. "So what are you in here for?"

Wes reached over and slapped his shoulder. "No asking," he said sharply. "Kurt here is auditioning for the Warblers today, so we'll all find out then."

I shrank slightly as the other two boys stared at me happily. I suddenly felt as though I should have slashed some tires or... something as well. Stealing an ATM? That might have been cool in their books. Not knowing that your so-called friend was stealing an ATM when you attempt to pick him up because you think that he was stranded and then getting caught?

...yeah, not cool at all.

I shook my head. Why was I suddenly feeling as though I had to impress them? All I really want is to just finish my time here and get out. God, this place was already affecting me.

There wasn't much talk during lunch, and before I knew it, I was walking out of my last class for the day. Dinner was planned at six thirty, and my last class ended at four fifty. ...And then it came time for the Warblers audition. ...I didn't even have anything prepared.

Well shit.

Jeff was waiting for me outside of my classroom door, that same smile on his face, and so I confided in him that I didn't have anything prepared.

"Don't worry about it," was all he said. "I didn't have one either."

Oh, okay... If he didn't and he still got then, then I guess I'm okay.

I feel great, then.

Ten minutes later

Me feeling great?

Yeah, that was a load of bullshit.

There were about fifteen Warblers in the room, all of them staring at me. We were waiting, although what or who we were waiting for I was unsure of. No one was speaking; a few boys were reading books, others were playing cards. Wes was tapping a pencil against the top of the desk that he was sitting at, his head resting on the left side of his head, looking rather pissed. David kept checking his watch, and the boy who had introduced himself as Thad looked like he wanted to throw something.

"Where is he," Wes suddenly hissed out.

David shrugged and Wes sighed, then yelled out, "Trent!"

A boy in the far back of the corner jolted out of his seat. "Yeah?"

"He's your roommate, where is he?"

The boy, Trent, opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment the doors to the room opened and a short boy with black looking hair walked in.

"Hey," he said happily.

No one in the room seemed pleased to see him.

"You're late. Again, Blaine." Wes said, a rather long frown on his face.

Blaine shrugged. "I was talking to my therapist about taking on a tutoring job during the weekends when we aren't performing. Sorry, I didn't think it would take so long."

Wes frowned more, and oh my god can his face even look that mad?

"Fine, but just, next time let us know. We have someone auditioning today, and we need the whole group here to listen to him."

Blaine nodded. "Okay, who is auditioning?"

Wes lifted (was that a gavel?) his... gavel and pointed at me. "This is Kurt. He's the new guy."

Why was everyone calling me the new guy?

Blaine turned around, took one glance at me (which I did wave at, because just because I'm at reform school – fucking Puckerman – doesn't mean that I'm a horrible person. Because I'm not. I may be a bitch but I'm not a horrible person), looked back at Wes, then took a double take; his mouth fell open slightly, and I suddenly felt very self conscious.

"Uh... Hi?"

He lifted his hand and waved quickly, then let it fall down, still staring. Did I have something on my face?

David cleared his throat. "Blaine, this is Kurt Hummel, a countertenor. Kurt? This is Blaine Anderson, our lead."

Blaine lifted his hand and held it out to me. "Hello," he said, sounding more sure of himself.

I took his hand. "Hi, how are you?"

Blaine smiled. He had a rather nice smile. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." He dropped my hand, then took a small step forward. "So what are you in here for?"

I shook my head. "I can't tell yet. I tell after the audition, remember?"

He sighed but nodded, and I couldn't help but ask. "So what are you in here for?"

A positively evil grin appeared on his face and he shook his head. "Uh uh, new kid. You're going to have to wait to find that out."

He nodded his head towards the empty seat on the couch and I took it.

"We all try to outdo each other in here. We're supposed tot be practicing all of these nice harmonies-"

"Which we should be doing!" Wes called out angrily. "He has to audition!"

Blaine waved his hand. "Any way, we all try to outdo each other. So, let's hear it," he said, motioning at the room.

"I stole a politicians car and then threw rocks through his windows."

"I robbed an entire gas station with a gun. I'm here on parole."

"I shoplifted a few things for my girl; she left me once I got in here though, that bitch."

"I killed a bunch of animals and left them on my neighbors lawn and watched her have a panic attack."

Blaine lifted his hand up, then turned back to Kurt, the smile still on his face. "Well, Kurt? What did you do?"

I curled in on myself slightly, watching as they all seemed to lean in closer to me subconsciously. Well, here goes nothing.

"I helped my friend steal an ATM."

There was silence, before a tall blond haired boy spoke up. "I'm sorry, you what?"

"I... I helped my friend steal an ATM?"

Each and every one of them took turns glancing at each other and I gulped.

Fuck you, Puckerman.

Just – Fuck you.

Author's notes: Well, this is just one chapter. If you like, I have more planned, but please let me know what you think!

I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU GUYS. IT MAKES MY DAY, SERIOUSLY.

Oh, and as a side note, I've had a diary like the one Kurt wrote in. It was awful.

Love,

UO