December 2010

The windows were fogging up.

Unfortunately, I was a little too busy crying to laugh at this pathetic turn of events.

"Come on, Kurt. I know you'll love it here!" My dad reached across the console of the car and squeezed my hand. I appreciated the gesture, but having heard his voice sparked another wave of tears.

Wasn't I supposed to be happy right now? This was exactly what I wanted.

It wasn't about the dumpsters. It wasn't about the lockers. It was about Karofsky. There were dumpsters and lockers here - I was sure - but they wouldn't be the same. They would be friendlier here, like looking at them full of garbage and books as opposed to outed gay teens was a casual reminder of the no tolerance bullying policy.

Here, there would be no stress.

I wouldn't have to fear walking through the hallways between classes. I wouldn't have to keep tabs on Karofsky, wondering if he was around the corner, ready to push me into God knew what.

This place may have been everything I wanted, but it was still terrifying.

For a different reason.

When my dad let go of my hand, I said, "Thanks, Dad. I just . . ."

He didn't rush me to finish my sentence. He didn't push me out of the car. He didn't laugh at me for having sat in this God forsaken vehicle for the last hour and a half, sobbing at the view.

It really was beautiful. The picture in the brochure didn't give it justice. It looked like a medieval city - like I was running away from New Directions to join a wizarding world, not a boarding school. While it looked absolutely majestic, it also looked intimidating. There was a lot about this place I didn't know.

I hated the unknown.

Luckily, Dad knew that about me, so I found it oddly endearing that he expected me to cry. When we pulled to a stop in front of the administration building, he grabbed a tissue box he had hidden behind the driver's seat.

"What has you so scared, Kurt? This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

I laughed through my blubbering. Without a doubt, my eyes were bloodshot and my cheeks were so red, it probably looked like I had been slapped on both sides by someone with hands cold as ice. My voice was hoarse when I spoke.

"What if I don't make friends, Dad? What if I came here for nothing? What if it's not any different?"

Dad laughed - not a chuckle, but a laugh. He tipped his head back and laughed so loudly, I was afraid the administrators in the building would come out looking for the commotion. I didn't know whether to be insulted or afraid.

I settled for both.

"Kurt! Pull yourself together, kid. Everybody's gonna love you. I don't know why you're so worried about this place, and you haven't even stepped one foot inside."

He was technically wrong. I had pretended to be a student here when I was spying for New Directions. It had been a disaster - I wasn't believable at all, which is why I knew I didn't have a career waiting for me at the CIA. It was also a blessing because it was then that I learned about their no tolerance bullying policy.

Dad was right, in his own way, because this would be my first step inside as a real student.

"You don't understand, Dad. I'm gay!"

The look on his face told me that our thought processing was a little different. He didn't see my point. Dad raised one eyebrow and waited for me to continue. When I didn't, he opened his mouth in confusion and slouched. I fought the urge to laugh at his ridiculous expression.

"Kurt, we've gone over this. I know you're gay."

I shrugged. "It's just that . . . I don't know what to expect! I've never been anywhere where it's okay to be gay. I don't know what it's like not to be shoved into a locker or dropped in a dumpster for the fun of it."

Dad looked out his window, giving me time to think.

"I'd almost rather be bullied than not."

He turned around to look at me, his short fuse having just been lit. "What do you mean? You want to go back to McKinley? You want to go to a school that treats you like you don't deserve? Huh? You want to live in fear every day? You told me what happened there, Kurt."

I had told him. He was right about that.

When he heard what Karofsky was doing to me, I was sure he would follow me to school the next day and beat him as badly as Karofsky had beat me. While I would have loved to see him get what was coming to him, I chose a safer route: I suggested I transfer.

After he had a chance to calm down, Dad agreed that transferring was my best option. We did some research before committing to this boarding school, and he liked what he saw. He used the money for what would have been his honeymoon and paid for my tuition instead.

Needless to say, I didn't think it would be this easy. I didn't think I could suggest on a whim that coming to this school would be a simple solution, much less that Dad would hear it and agree with me almost immediately.

When he told me to pack the empty boxes he got from the storage closet in his office, I was stunned. I was more than stunned. It was like I was shocked by electricity. My feet were rooted to the ground, my jaw agape.

I had to clear up the misunderstanding, so I looked out the passenger door while I explained my innermost fear to him.

"Now that I can't be bullied, people will have to get to know me. And when some of them don't like me, it won't be because they're prejudiced, it'll be because there's something wrong with me. Not my orientation, but me. Me as a person, Dad. Me."

Dad shook his head at me, an expression of disappointment on his face. "Son, have you forgotten? You are a Hummel. We Hummels happen to be irresistible. The moment strangers meet us, we're in their back pocket." He looked up at me through his eyelashes and smiled deviously.

This was so out of character for him, I had to laugh. So I did for a while. Until I could hardly breathe. He smiled when he noticed I had stopped crying.

"The truth is, Kurt, that not everyone will like you. I won't lie to you and tell you that everything will be swell between you and every guy in the school." The tears welled behind my eyes before I could blink them away. I looked down at my clenched hands, tissues nestled in my fists.

Dad waited for me to look at him. "But I can tell you this, Kurt. It may take a while, it may take a day. I don't know when it's gonna happen, but someday soon, you'll find the friends you've dreamed of having. You'll find the friends that will love you no matter who you love."

I bit the inside of my lip to keep myself from crying. Dad took me by the shoulder and pulled me into his chest, hugging me over the console of the car. This was not one of the first I'm-here-for-you-Kurt hugs. This was a you're-ready-to-say-goodbye hug.

So I did. Despite the fear tightly knotting in my stomach and dislodging my airway, I hugged Dad a little tighter, and then I let go. I stepped out of the car, opened the trunk and unloaded my three bags and two boxes.

Dad didn't say anything else. He wasn't a teddy bear on the outside, though. I knew that. He wasn't about to hold my hand while I walked into the administration building to confirm my registration. He wasn't going to help me move my toiletries from my box to my dresser.

He was going to go home and deal with his emotions in solitude.

We were so alike in that way.

Within two trips, I had all my bags and boxes in the administration building. I left them in the corner out of the way while I walked across the shiny wood floor to the desk. There was an intimate aura about the place. Paintings of birds graced the walls and vintage couches were spread across the room in patterns that allowed for conversation.

Not a bad color scheme, either.

I was impressed.

"Can I help you?" the lady at the front desk asked as I neared her.

Dropping one of my bags on the floor beside me, I nodded. "Yes. I'm here to confirm my registration. I was told on the phone that I would need to pick up my schedule and my room key here."

"You're in the right place, sweetheart. What's your name?"

I shifted my weight nervously. This was it. I was going to be one of them.

I took a deep breath. "Kurt Hummel."

The woman typed my name into her computer and smiled up at me. "May I see some ID, Kurt?" She clicked something and the printer in the corner of her desk went to work. I bent over and picked up my bag, handing her the ID tucked in the front pocket.

A boy I thought I recognized was sitting at a desk behind the woman's. He was sorting through paperwork of some kind. I swore I knew his name, but I couldn't quite remember it. He looked nice enough. His smile was really bright and friendly.

Not to mention, the cool colors in his button down shirt really complemented his dark skin tone.

The woman handed me my ID. "Here you go, hun. I've got your schedule and your keys right here." She handed them to me and smiled. "David, d'you mind helping Kurt with his bags? He needs a warm welcome, anyway."

"Of course." The boy behind her stood up and took the suit jacket from the back of his chair. He slipped it on and walked out from behind his desk. He held out his hand. "I'm David. Welcome to Dalton Academy!"

"Kurt." He knew my name because I had just said it in front of him, but I wanted to be polite. He made his way to the corner of the room and picked up two bags and a box. "You really don't have to carry that much. I can take another bag."

He left me with the bag I already had slung over my shoulder and the smaller of the two boxes. I felt like I was using him for his muscle.

David laughed. "It's really no problem. Where does it say you'll be living?"

I looked down at the keys. One of them was blank and one of them had a simple 7 carved into it. There was a frantic moment where I thought I hadn't been given a specific room assignment, but then I noticed the number on my schedule. "It says Ashford Suite 7."

"No!" David whipped around, nearly dropping the box, and smiled at me. "You're Chad's new roommate! It's nice to meet you, man. I was wondering when he'd get another roommate. Sweet Lord, now he can't sneak his girlfriend in every night and do the bad boogie. Good riddance!"

Well, my first impression of David had been wrong. He struck me as the relaxed and almost dull type. I was glad to be wrong. This Chad character, on the other hand, I wasn't so sure about. I didn't want a roommate that did the nasty with his girlfriend every night. I didn't even want to know what the "bad boogie" consisted of doing.

"Do you know him, then?" I asked.

David laughed. "Nah, man. Of course, I do. I mean, I live in the suite."

We continued walking down the sidewalk. This boarding school looked much more like a university than a high school. It was so well kept and beautiful.

"There are three dorms at Dalton. Bennington." He nodded toward a building to the left. "Ramsey." He adjusted the box and pointed to a building far off in the distance. "And then there's the best dorm on campus - Ashford. They all have suites, but Ashford's are by far the nicest."

I followed him as he took a left turn. "How do suites work? I thought you said Chad was my roommate?"

David nodded. "He is. The suites have a common room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms attached to the common room. You'll be sharing one of the bedrooms in Suite 7 with Chad. Me and my roommate are right across the common room."

"How many suites are in Ashford?"

"There's five suites per floor and three floors." David stopped in front of a building and gazed at it with what I assumed was pride. "This is our home - Ashford in all it's glory. It looks pretty intimidating, I know, but you just gotta remember that we're all average chaps living in a dorm where tea sharply at noon is acceptable."

I laughed while he struggled to open the door with his hands so full. We slipped inside as I finally mustered the courage to ask him the question I had been wondering since we met. "Aren't there uniforms at Dalton? Is this them?"

David looked down at his suit and shook his head. "No." He led the way down the hall and quickly corrected himself. "I mean, yeah, we have a uniform. But no, this isn't it. I work in the administration building part time." He adopted a mocking voice as he said, "I'm required to look professional."

We stopped in front of a door with a sign on the wall beside it. On this sign was the number seven. "You use the key with the seven on it to open this door to the common room." He waited while I unlocked the door.

The common room looked amazing. It was painted forest green with dark wood coffee tables and navy blue couches spread in front of a fireplace. A bookcase stood on either side of the room. A tiny kitchen was in one corner, the counters made of marble and the appliances stainless steel.

"Bathroom's through that door." David pointed at the door straight across from the one we had just walked through. "There's a shower, toilet, and a sink in there. We all share it. So, if we end up racing each other for the shower, you might as well give up 'cause I'll win. Just giving you a heads up now, dude."

I spun around in at least three circles, admiring the room.

"This place is so cool!"

David gave me a cheeky grin. "This is my room. And yours . . ." He made a pathetic drum roll sound and then leaped to the side so I could look at the door that had been behind him. "It's right here! Use your second key to open this one." He put the box and the bags down outside the door. "Suite 7 is tight. We go to dinner at six. You should join!"

My eyes widened at the immediate invitation. I didn't know making friends would be this easy.

"Yeah! That'd be great!"

He smiled and punched my arm lightly. "I'll be working till five. That's a long time to look professional." David slouched his shoulders and then loosened his tie. He said something about sticking it to the man as he left the common room.

It was so much harder to forget how new and scary this place was now that I was alone. The key felt like an anchor in my hand. I had never shared a room with anyone before. I didn't even have brothers or sisters until about a month ago - even then, I hardly counted Finn. This was one hundred percent new territory, and I was terrified to venture into it.

Taking a deep breath, I stuck the key in the dead bolt lock and turned the knob.

The room was quite lovely. The walls were a dark blue. There were two beds with red duvets - Dalton colors had to grace every inch of the room, naturally. The closets and the desks were dark wood. It was a very fancy looking room. I half expected to find myself in a preppy all boys school by the looks of this room alone.

Oh . . . wait.

I assumed the neater side of the room was mine, so I went ahead and dropped the box on the bed and let my bag fall on the floor beside my feet. When I left to pick up the the rest of my stuff, I heard someone playing guitar in the next room.

The door looked like it was open, so I quietly walked across the common room to stand in the doorway and meet my suite mate.

A boy with dark curly hair was sitting with his back to me on his bed. His guitar was pulled close to his body as he strummed along to a song I didn't recognize. He looked so peaceful. His broad shoulders tilted inward, and his head was turned just enough that I could see one side of his face.

No. It couldn't be.

I must have gasped because something warned him someone else was there. He turned around and my suspicions were confirmed. I was now living with the cute boy that gave me courage not three weeks ago.

This wouldn't be awkward at all.

His name was Blaine. He was quite the looker. Slightly shorter than me, a smile that'd blind you if you looked too long, and a mop of dark curly hair that always seemed to be gelled back into oblivion. I knew why I hadn't recognized him.

Blaine wasn't in the Dalton uniform, and that's all I'd ever seen him wear before this moment. He was wearing dark washed jeans, a maroon V-neck sweater, thick black rimmed glasses, and a bewildered expression.

Wait. A bewildered expression?

His cheeks were tinted pink as he put his guitar back in its case and shoved it under his bed. "Hey, Kurt! What are you doing here? How'd you find me?" He pulled his phone from his back pocket. "Did you text me or something?"

We had an interesting friendship to say the least. I was very much attracted to him, but I tried not to get too carried away because it was clear he didn't feel the same. He was gay - the first gay guy I ever met. It went without saying that, when Blaine learned of my sexuality, he took me under his wing.

That was all he'd done.

Sure, we exchanged text messages more often than casual friends would. He was one of the only reasons why I lasted so long with Karofsky bullying me at every corner of McKinley. Blaine never told me it would be easy, but he did say I could fight it.

With his help, I had the courage. I ended up here. Well, here as in Dalton, not his bedroom.

I could barely take my eyes off him. His hair wasn't gelled back like it usually was. Instead, it was wild and tousled. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, and God it made me want to do the bad boogie (whatever that was, I didn't care) with him twice over.

Swallowing loudly, I took a step into his room. "I . . . transferred. Here. To Dalton."

"What?" Blaine smiled and held his arms out, walking toward me. I met him halfway and threw my arms around his waist. His hair smelled like it always had, but it was much more appealing when he didn't gel it back. He whispered in my ear, "This is great news, Kurt."

He pulled me away to look at me. "Wait. This is great news, right?"

"Yeah, I . . . I think so." I smiled a bit hesitantly.

He noticed.

Blaine smiled at me encouragingly. "If you need me, I'll be here."

This time he really was here. He wasn't on the phone. He wasn't texting me. He was here, standing in front of me with his hair in disarray and his glasses on his nose. This time I felt like I was meeting the real Blaine.

I didn't love him any less.