Caught In The Lie
Prologue
"Blaine" could hardly remember a time when he actually felt at ease, especially wandering through the halls of yet another new school. Though it was the first new school of his junior year, it was really the tenth new school since he had started... "expressing" himself two years back. He pulled at the hem of a loose fitting black v-neck, doing his best to stretch out the fabric even more around his chest. Though he knew he could pass for a boy, that his chest was taped down to the point of pain, he was still paranoid. People just didn't seem to understand that this was the way he felt he should be, that he felt trapped beneath the female exterior everyone else couldn't see past, refused to see past.
He hoped McKinley would be a fresh start (as he had all of the other schools), though, deep down, he knew it most likely wasn't going to be different from any of the others at all. He hadn't been accepted in any of the schools in Columbus, Cleveland,or Sandusky... so why the hell would Lima, Ohio be any better? Despite the track record, he tried to remain hopeful.
The plan he had concocted so far consisted of staying off the radar as long as possible. He would pass like a ghost through the remainder of his high school life until he was able to leave behind his God forsaken past and literally move on to brighter and better things.
So far the halls were abandoned, leaving him to ponder just how late he must have arrived but he chose not to spare a glance at his phone for the time. He was new and lost; surely the teachers would offer him some leeway. He squinted at the creased schedule held tightly in his left hand before looking around once more, trying to distinguish which direction the numbers inscribed on the small bronze plates of the heavy wooden doors decreased. The number on his paper read "137" but the doors around him had nothing less than "200" wherever he looked. This couldn't be right; surely the left he had made back at the gymnasium had been the correct guess...
The long awaited sigh he had been holding in all morning finally left his lips as he doubled back towards the gym, taking the right hallway this time. This school was backwards from the last one he'd been in at Columbus, leaving him with the start of a fresh headache so early in the day already. He averted his gaze to the floor at the sight of a couple of boys sporting letterman jackets through the open doors of the gym, knowing full well that watching the pale green tiles would aid him in no way whilst still trying to locate his classroom, but the fear building up in the form of bile crawling up his throat led him to abandon logic, at least momentarily.
As he quickly passed, he could feel three pairs of eyes turn their attention towards him, their conversation faltering only slightly as they stopped to consider his presence. But his plan to blend in must have worked because no threats were hurtled his way; he was in the clear for now, all he had to do was keep it up for the next year and a half. Part of him believed that the only reason he wasn't being tormented now though was due to the fact that they couldn't get a good look at him from where they were standing on the other side of the room. Never the less, he continued to quickly shuffle past them and resumed scanning the numbers on the doors. He was rewarded with the proper classroom finally and carefully pushed the door open, trying to be discreet.
He had no such luck though.
Twenty pairs of eyes turned his way and one boy, standing at his desk, ceased his recitation of a French monologue in mid-sentence. Heat crawled up his cheeks with feverish embarrassment as he mumbled an apology and glanced around the room for an empty chair. As his ironic luck would have it though, the only open desk was to the right of the boy whom he had just interrupted. Keeping his eyes glued to the floor, he passed by a few classmates silently and sat down, tugging a pale green spiral notebook out of his leather satchel and placed it on the semi-defaced desk before himself. Some students giggled and he chanced a look upwards, being made aware of the fact that he must not have heard his teacher speaking.
"Pardon?" Blaine offered, meekly, taking note of the tacky brown suit that Mr. Moreau had on.
"You must be Miss Anderson. Gracie, correct?"
There were no words in the English language, or French for that matter, to describe the immediate lividity that had replaced the bright red he had been merely moments ago. "Correct?" He repeated when Blaine hadn't provided an answer.
"No. Um, it's... I-I'm Blaine, my... my name is Blaine Anderson. Th-there must have been some sort of... mistake." He knew he wasn't fooling anyone as he stumbled over his words, obviously horror stricken. So much for staying off of the radar... He tried to think, to come up with an excuse and before he could consider the plausibility of them, the words left his mouth, "They must have put my sister's name instead of mine."
Everyone was staring blatantly at this point, some boys snickered from the back of the room, and the whispers Blaine had become so accustomed to, had learned to fear, had started up. Day one at McKinley and it was already going to hell.
"Quiet, class," Mr. Moreau interjected, "I see the note next to your name now, Blaine. Next time you're late it's a detention. Kurt, you may continue now."
The boy to Blaine's left nodded and resumed his monologue. Blaine took to doodling in his notebook as a distraction, wondering how long it would be this time before he started hearing the rumors about himself. He could feel the eyes burning into his back, some students were still whispering amongst themselves but he couldn't understand what was being said. An exasperated Kurt apparently couldn't stand the whispering either though.
"You're all just being rude now."
Blaine didn't dare look up.
"Thank you, Kurt. You can sit down now." Mr. Moreau said sternly, growing impatient as well. "Open your textbooks and we'll take a look at conjugations."
"Just ignore them." Blaine heard Kurt whisper to his left, "They're savages for gossip."
Blaine mustered a small nod, still focusing deeply on his thoughts and fearing what the rest of the day might hold for him. He couldn't transfer again, his father had made that perfectly clear... He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't even heard the bell go off. His only indication that class was over was the scraping of everyone's chairs in damn near perfect unison, followed by the stampede towards the door. He took his time collecting his things, failing to notice that Kurt hadn't left yet either.
"So how do you like McKinley so far?"
Blaine shoved his notebook into his satchel and shouldered it, "It's alright. I'm not really sure yet though, only been here for about half an hour."
"What class do you have next?"
"No class, lunch."
"Oh, so do I! I'll sit with you."
Blaine blinked, taken aback by Kurt's assertion. "Uh, okay. Thanks."
The two left hastily as the next class began to pour in, Blaine following Kurt to the cafeteria and trying to memorize where things were along the way. At least he wouldn't be alone at lunch today, that much was different from every other school experience so far.
"I need to stop by my locker though to get my lunch." Blaine piped up as they neared the cafeteria.
"Okay. Lead the way."
Blaine was immediately curious of Kurt's motives, thinking back to the cruelty he knew all too well that people could possess. "I'll just meet you at the cafeteria."
Kurt shrugged. "Okay, I'll probably be at one of the tables by the windows."
And with that they parted ways. Blaine tugged at the hem of his shirt again, a nervous habit he hoped to outgrow once he was able to actually have the necessary surgery done. His shirt was wrinkled where he'd been pulling at it all day, rising in small little peaks at various places along his chest and stomach. Despite other classes having started the halls were relatively crowded, most likely with students who also had lunch this block and were just taking their time socializing at their own lockers. He rounded the corner and pulled out his schedule again, softly reading aloud the combination to his locker before carefully twisting the dial. He stuffed the paper back into his satchel and pulled the locker open, picking up a pale gold plastic lunch box embellished with pink roses and bright green vines.
Before he could close his locker a fist slammed into the one next to him and he jumped, panic fiercely taking hold of him. He turned his head slightly, his stomach twisting itself in knots, and noticed that the fist belonged to one of the letterman jacket boys from earlier. Based on his size, Blaine wanted to guess the student was a football player. He kept his mouth shut, slowly closing his locker, praying to whatever higher being that could possibly be out there that letterman guy wanted nothing to do with him.
"You're the new kid, aren't you?"
"I- yes- " Blaine spoke softly, failing to mask the fear in his voice.
"Are you really a girl or just a fag that looks like one?"
It was already starting; he would never be able to escape it, no matter where he went. He turned to walk away but a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him back against his locker. "I asked you a question. You a lesbian that needs some straightening out or a fag that needs some sense knocked into him?"
"I-I'm a boy..." he whispered, his chest tightening, bracing himself against the imminent attack.
"Mr. Karofsky." A teacher with brown, tight curls was approaching them from the far end of the hall.
The hand on his shoulder loosened its grip and he heard the low growl of a command follow shortly, "Don't you fucking dare," along with it followed a look he knew all too well: do anything different than what I say and I swear to God, I'll kill you. Karofsky brightened up and looked at the teacher, "Hi, Mr. Schuester, I was just asking the new kid if he had any thoughts about joining the football team. We need a new kicker since Kurt left the team."
Mr. Schuester looked skeptical, turning his attention to Blaine. "What really happened?"
"What he said." Blaine answered, flawlessly, "I'm a big college football fan, he saw the Buckeyes poster I have in my locker and approached me."
Mr. Schuester's face seemed to relax slightly, indicating that Blaine performed well. "Get to class, you two." He walked away, leaving them alone once again.
Karofsky tightened his grip again and Blaine could feel a bruise forming already, but he fought back the urge to wince and grit his teeth. "See you around." The smirk on his face hinted at what sort of year this would be for Blaine: completely miserable. Karofsky let go of his shoulder and left.
Blaine waited until Karofsky was completely out of sight before he slumped against his locker, trembling and taking in shaky breaths. It took a few moments but he was able to compose himself slightly and headed off towards the cafeteria to meet Kurt. He hoped the other boy wouldn't notice how shaken up he was, that he wouldn't question him about it because he knew he would never be able to discuss what had happened, knew he would never be able to admit that he feared for his life every single day for the past two years. He had learned to accept the loneliness that came with his decision to take action to change his life, he only hoped for the strength to get through it all.
When he entered the cafeteria, sure enough there was Kurt at a table under one of the tall windows. He waved Blaine over, smiling brightly, and for a second Blaine considered the possibility of a friendship, of a shared source of strength but quickly pushed the idea aside. Putting his faith in others would only lead to pain. No, this was something he would need to do alone. He feigned a small smile and walked over to the table, sitting across from Kurt. He would entertain the thought of a friendly acquaintance while at school, but that's all he would ever let Kurt be to him, ever let anyone be to him.