The warning bell rang throughout the Dalton Academy campus, signaling ten minutes before the start of the school day. Usually Blaine would already be in homeroom, checking over his homework or joining in on whatever heated philosophical debate David had started today. Instead, Blaine was sitting in his car, attempting to finalize his plan.

He was going to skip school.

He had come up with the idea the night before, when Kurt called him in tears, telling him that "courage" had backfired and the bullying hockey player had kissed him. Blaine had instantly assured him that they would stand up to Karofsky together, and he'd be at McKinley before lunch. It wasn't until after Kurt had hung up that Blaine realized what a trip to Lima would entail: missing school.

Blaine had a perfect attendance at Dalton since he arrived halfway through freshman year. When convincing his parents to allow him to transfer to the private school from Ashland High, he gave them his word he would get the best grades humanly possible. And, up until today, he had fulfilled his promise by getting straight As and never missing a class unless the nurse had forced him to go home. Which he hoped would be the case today.

He looked at the spread of props he had brought to aid him in his performance: two boxes of tissues, a bottle of Nyquil, and his Dalton oxford, blazer and tie, all horribly wrinkled. He had driven the seventy miles to Westerville in a t-shirt while both having the windows rolled down and blasting the air conditioning, bringing about the desired effect of making his nose run. As the final bell rang, he pulled on his uniform – carefully making sure he looked like he had rolled out of bed – and stuffed a handful of tissues in his pocket, shoving the second box in his bag. He was about to take a shot of Nyquil, but decided against it; Blaine was pretty sure taking medicine without actually being sick counted as drug abuse, and he didn't want to be drowsy when he drove to Lima and confronted Kurt's bully.

Blaine slowly made his way to homeroom, using all his acting camp skills to look as sick as possible. It seemed to be working, as David took one look at him and winced.

"You look like you've been hit by a truck," he said as Blaine took his seat next to him. Blaine mumbled and blew his nose.

"You were fine yesterday at practice. Did you sleep in a snow bank or something?"

"I think Blainey-boy's got mono from making out with his little spy," Wes joked. He had called Blaine's crush on Kurt within five minutes of seeing the two of them together. Dodging the used tissue Blaine threw at him, he added: "But really, you need to go home and sleep. You look like a zombie."

Blaine shrugged, secretly hoping the nurse would say the same thing.

He spent first period slouched back in his seat, loudly blowing his nose. His physics teacher shot him a look each time an explosive sneeze interrupted the lecture, and was glad to get rid of him when Blaine finally asked if he could go to the nurse.

Convincing the nurse he needed to go home was easy; he wasn't a frequent visitor to the office, and she therefore believed him. Getting his mother's permission to leave school was another story.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick this morning?" she asked over the phone.

"I… thought I could push through it. I guess I can't."

"You can't stay for a few more periods, see if you can push through it? It's only 8:30, Blaine."

"Mrs. Bradford basically kicked me out of class. I promise you all the other teachers will do the same thing."

He heard his mother's impatient sigh as she continued to fight. "Do you have any tests today? Any homework you didn't do? Is that why you want to go home?"

"Mom, no," he said, groaning. "I'll go to each teacher and pass in my homework before I leave. I swear it's not homework." He added in a sniffle for good luck, and it seemed to soften her a little.

"Alright, then. Are you okay to drive home? I could call your father to get you."

"I think I'm alright, Mom," Blaine said, hoping his mother wouldn't question why he was fine to drive 70 miles home when he wasn't well enough to sit through the school day.

"Fine, you have my permission to go home," she said. "I don't have any afternoon meetings, so I can get home to check on you around two. Take some medicine and go to bed, no Top Model marathons or anything, alright?"

"Thanks, Mom. Love you," he said. He quickly signed out at the attendance office and headed to his car. Grabbing the freshly ironed uniform from the back of his car, he changed before heading to Lima, absent of any signs of a cold.

Confronting Karofsky hadn't gone as well as Blaine had hoped, but seeing as no one had walked away with a broken nose, it had gone better than what he had expected. Lunch had Kurt had gone very well, too; when Blaine left to head home his friend no longer looked like he was on the verge of tears.

He was in a great mood during the ride home, singing loudly along with his The Fame Monster CD. That is, until he pulled into his neighborhood and remembered his mother would be coming home at two. He glanced at the clock.

2:37.

Blaine was screwed.

He loosened his tie and un-tucked his shirt as he got out of the car, grabbing the tissues out of his pocket. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince his mother that he had run to the pharmacy to pick up more NyQuil.

His hopes were crushed as he walked though the front door.

"Sit. Down. Right. NOW," his mother spat, watching him from the kitchen. Blaine slowly made his way to the table, grasping at the last few strands of faith that he could pull off being sick. His mother wasn't buying it, and began her tirade as soon as he sat down.

Blaine stared at the granite countertop, too afraid to see the rage in his mother's eyes as she ranted about how skipping school could seriously jeopardize his chances of getting into a top college, how his actions have completely destroyed her trust in him, how his father would react when he found out the family was spending $25,000 a year to send Blaine to a school he completely took for granted.

"Well?" she asked, after ten minutes of scolding. "What was so important that you felt it was necessary to lie to the school and your mother?"

Sighing, Blaine tried to figure out the best way to explain the situation. As he soon learned, "well, there's this guy" wasn't the best way to start.

"A guy?" she shrieked, causing Blaine to jump back in shock. "You skipped school to go hook up with some guy? Well, you're never seeing him again, that's for damn sure! And you're lucky if your father doesn't decide to go after him –"

"Mom, no, that's not what I meant!" he pleaded. "I wasn't off rendezvousing or anything. He's… he's this kid, and he needed my help."

Even though Blaine certainly didn't think of Kurt as a kid, the wording seemed to calm his mother's fears that he had spent the day doing god-knows-what with another man. "Care to elaborate, Blaine?"

"Well, this kid –"

"Name?" she asked.

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel. He visited Dalton a couple days ago. He wanted to transfer because he's being bullied at school."

His mother nodded, seeming to believe him. "And how did that cause you to miss school?"

"One of the bullies wasn't letting up, and when he tried to confront him, it backfired," Blaine said, leaving out mention of Karofsky's kiss; thinking of Kurt kissing someone caused him to burn with jealousy. "He wanted back-up when he talked to the bully again. I told him I'd be there."

For good measure, Blaine pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed his mother the last few texts he had exchanged with Kurt that day:

Blaine: Just got to your school. Where should I meet you?

Kurt: glee meeting-schue's pissed. I'll find you in a few

Kurt: thanks again for lunch, and trying to talk to karofsky

"I just wanted to be there for him, Mom. You know, be the support that I didn't have when I was at Ashland."

"Fine, I believe you," his mother said, still holding the phone. "But you're not getting this back, Blaine. As good as your intentions may have been, you're still grounded. You get one phone call to Wes to get your assignments, and then this phone is mine for the rest of the week. Your laptop, too; if you need it for homework, you use it at the kitchen table, and that's it."

Sighing, Blaine decided not to argue that taking away a teen's phone and Internet was comparable to locking that person in the basement for a week. He was lucky that his mother wasn't locking him in the basement. But there was one thing he was willing to complain about.

"Mom, is there any way we can have an exception to the no-phone rule?"

His mother looked at him as though he told her he was planning on skipping school for the rest of the year. He quickly explained his request.

"I mean, what if I messed up today, and made everything worse for Kurt? What if something bad happens and he really needs my help?"

He looked up at his mother with puppy-dog eyes, who stared at him for a moment before beginning to type on his phone. Blaine's eyes widened.

"Mom! What are you –"

"Happy?" she asked, showing him the message she had just sent to Kurt.

My mother took my phone for the week for skipping school. If you need me, call the house.

"Thanks, Mom. Can I add one thing?"

He grabbed the phone and quickly typed courage and a smiley face before giving it back. His mother eyed the text.

"Courage?"

"It's kind of like a mantra. Something for him to remember whenever he's being bullied."

His mother nodded. "Well, at least I can take back what I said about being afraid I didn't raise you right. Now, go to your room and give me your computer. And plan out what you're going to say to your father; he's not as understanding as I am.

"And Blaine?" she added as he began walking up the stairs. "You better hope you never actually get sick. You're never missing a day of school again."