"Kurt, honey, hurry up! You don't want to be late for school," Carole's voice floated up the stairs and into Kurt's room.
"Coming!" Kurt called before turning back to the full length mirror in front of him. He turned this way and that, making sure his outfit fell and clung in all the right places. He needed everything to look perfect. This may have been his fourth year at McKinley, but this was his first day as a senior, and Kurt wanted to make a good impression.
"Kurt-" Carole's voice was closer now, more clear. Kurt turned to find her standing in the open doorway of his bedroom. She clicked her tongue once, the mild irritation on her face slipping into a warm smile as she looked at her son from across the room. "Let me look at you."
Kurt crossed the room towards the woman he had learned to call Mom. She laid her handson his shoulders in a motherly gesture that was so familiar to Kurt now, her soft eyes examining every inch of him with loving scrutiny.
"You look great, baby," she said and Kurt smiled. "This outfit is absolutely perfect for your first day."
"Mom," Kurt huffed as though he hadn't been thinking the same thing only moments before. "I've been going to McKinley for three years now, it's not exactly a 'first day.'"
"I know," Carole agreed, rubbing her son's shoulders gently. "But it is your first day as a senior. My gosh, when did you get so old?"
"You blinked," Kurt informed her with a smile. Carole laughed.
"I guess so," she chuckled, squeezing Kurt's arms gently. "Now get downstairs or you're going to be late. Finn's already in the car." Kurt nodded, ducking around Carole to grab his shoulder bag before hurrying down the stairs and out the front door.
"Dude, what took you so long?" Finnquestioned angrily as Kurt clambered into the car, slamming the door shut behind himself. Finn started up the engine and began pulling out of the driveway. "We are so going to be late."
"No we are not, Finn," Kurt said definitively, rolling his eyes at the boy who was, for all intents and purposes, his brother. "We're just going to have to hurry a little- God! Would you slow down!"
"You said we needed to hurry!" Finn countered as the car raced down the thankfully straight stretch of road.
"I meant once we got to school- we'll have to run to class, not run every stop sign along the way!"
"Sorry," Finn apologized half-heartedly, slowing down a bit. Kurt didn't fail to notice that the speedometer never dropped below forty, despite the fact that they were in a school zone.
"You're going to be the death of us all, Finn Hudson."
The car settled into a comfortable silence after that, and Kurt stared out the window to keep his mind off the speedometer which continued to climb closer to fifty every time Kurt glanced at it. He was determined not to think about it, lest the stress of it kill him off before Finn managed to. Instead, he thought about school. He was still having a hard time processing the fact that this was his last year at McKinley High. He was a senior now. In only a few months time he'd be graduated with a whole future ahead of him and a family to support him.
The Hudson-Hummels had adopted Kurt just after his ninth birthday. They were already a makeshift family when Kurt joined the mix. Finn had been five when Carole met Burt. The two adults fell in love almost instantly and were married after about a year of dating and a short engagement. They both had wanted another child and tried for two years to get pregnant, but nothing worked. The doctors couldn't explain why. Medically both Carole and Burt should have been able to concieve, but it just wouldn't happen. After the two year mark, Carole had brought up the idea of adoption and Burt had been all for it. They filled outstacks of paperwork and talked to all the right people, and a few months later a social worker was introducing the Hudson-Hummel family to a small, wide-eyed Kurt. They met with a few other kids, but Kurt had grabbed Burt's heart from the first moment with an intensity that Burt still struggled to explain to his family years later. Thirteen scheduled meetings and about four weeks of paperwork later, Kurt was officially a member of the Hudson-Hummel family.
The sight of his high school building tugged Kurt out of his revery.
"And with two minutes to spare!" Finn declared proudly as he pulled into an open parking space. He opened his door and hopped out of the old truck he'd received as a birthday present the previous year.
"You should just be glad we're not dead," Kurt jeered, but the smile on his face betrayed his mocking tone. Finn grinned in response before shouldering his backpack and heading towards the school building. Kurt slammed his own door closed and followed after his brother.
The parking lot was mainly empty. Only a few students loitered around their cars, their laughs echoed through the lot, heavy with the underlying desperation of those who had already given up the hope of a future.
The sprint bell rang just as Kurt was pulling the front doors of the school open. Inside the building, the halls were alive with students excitedly chatting by their lockers, comparing schedules and summer tans as they headed towards their first period classrooms. Kurt breathed in the stench of disinfectant, body odor, and overdone perfume that was already permeating the school and smiled.
"Kurt!" A high pitched, but familiar squeal sounded through the hallway, and Kurt looked up to see none other than Rachel Berry bounding down the hallway towards him, a goofy grin spread across her face. He sighed. Rachel might be his best friend, but she was also the most high maintenance person he knew. He was sure she had a lot to tell him, and wasn't sure he had enough time before the late bell rang to hear it all.
"Hey there gorgeous." She linked arms with Kurt, a grin spreading across her face that told Kurt she knew something he didn't.
"Hey yourself." Hegrinned, treasuring the way her warmth beside him made the crowded hallways suddenly less lonely. He hadn't actually noticed he'd felt lonely until exactly that moment- the moment when he felt whole again. You can't miss something you never had, the thought rolled through his mind. Someone had told him that once, a long time ago, but he couldn't put a name or a face to the phrase.
"Kurt," Rachel's voice tugged him out of his thoughts, "are you even listening to me? Gosh, where are you today?"
Kurt shook his head, filing the thought away as unimportant. He could think about that later. He smiled at Rachel apologetically.
"Sorry, I'm just really out of it today," he told her.
"It's the first day back at school, Kurt," Rachel pointed out, as if he had somehow forgotten. "You should at least wait a week before tuning the whole thing out." Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Whatever," he countered, rolling his eyes in mild annoyance. "Why don't you just tell me whatever it is you have to say before you explode?" He could feel the excited tension in the way Rachel's arm wound itself around his own just a little too tightly.
"Well, I was trying to," Rachel complained, "but someone wasn't listening."
"Well I'mlistening now," Kurt turned his face towards her as if to prove his interest, "so spill."
Rachel's irritation cracked and a knowing, eager grin spread across her face. Her eyes danced conspiratorially, and Kurt felt his chest tighten with a sudden excitement as she opened her mouth to speak.
"We've got a new transfer student," she all but tripped over her own words in her rush to get them out into the air, "and he is ten-out-of-ten, drop-dead gorgeous."
"Lust worthy?" Kurt asked, finally getting interested. Other than the mild flow of freshmen, there hadn't been any new meat in McKinley for a while.
"Definitely." Rachel nodded, looking encouraged, if not completely satisfied, by Kurt's sudden attention. "And you'll never believe what i found out about him. I saw him the counseling office when I went in to complain to Principal Figgins about my current class schedule. Did you know they tried to make me take general PE with the sophomores instead of putting me into advanced dance? Excuse me, but I have a dream to fulfill. Do you think that 'General Physical Education' is going to help me get into NYADA? On Broadway? I don't think so. I-"
"Rachel," Kurt interrupted patiently, "new guy- drop dead gorgeous. Remember?"
"Oh. Right, yeah." Rachel blinked a few times, pulling her mind back onto topic. "Anyway, i was here early, and I saw him sitting in one of the chairs outside of the office- the ones that are still in the hallway, not in that little middle room. I think he caught me staring, so I just headed straight inside the office. I couldn't stop to talk to him, I was on a mission- plus I have Finn to think about."
"And?" Kurt questioned before Rachel could get sidetracked talking about Finn. "What did you find out?" Rachel shot him an annoyed look.
"I was getting there," she told him. Her annoyance didn't last long, however, and after a beat she was talking excitedly again. "So I was in the counseling office, waiting for Principal Figgins to stop talking to someone's parents. They looked really mad- the parents, not Principal Figgins- so Ifigured I was going to have to wait a while so Itook a seat outside of the office and sort of- okay, I'll admit it, I was staring at the back of this boy's head. He's got this curly hair, which I usually don't like in boys, but it totally worked on him, Kurt, and I've never seen anyone sit so straight or so still-"
"Rachel!" Kurt sighed, exasperated.
"Fine! I was sitting there and Ioverheard- I swear I didn't mean to, but I overheard the ladies who work behind the desk talking. One of them said 'He's going to be a challenge.' It took me a minute to realize that they were talking about the boy outside because there was no way I would have thought they were talking about him. He looked like the exact opposite of trouble, though his outfit could have used some serious help. But they were, for sure- talking about him, imean. Anyway, the other lady asked her why she thought so. Apparently the new kid's a foster kid. Has been for a while now. I don't know how long. Probably years judging by how the ladies were talking about him. I- hey, weren't you a foster kid, Kurt? Oh my gosh, Kurt, I'm sorry-" she stopped as though she had just realized how casually she was talking about a subject that was probably a sensitive topic for Kurt.
"It's fine," Kurt assured her, not even flinching. Those days were behind him now. He had no problem talking about the System now. Or at least that's what he told himself.
"I wonder if you know him," Rachel mused aloud, the hesitancy of the moment before was gone from her tone.
"Rachel, I haven't even seen another foster kid since I was nine. I don't even really remember anything about being in the system. Best not to think about it, you know?"
Rachel nodded, her face solemn like this made perfect sense, though Kurt was sure she'd never had a day in her life really worth blocking from her memory. Kurt knew that wasn't fair. Rachel had her own problems, just like everyone else. Still, Kurt couldn't help but think that, in light of everything he'd seen, everything he'd chosen to forget about those two and a half years in the System, she really didn't know much of anything.
All at once, Kurt didn't want to meet this new guy. He didn't care how hot he was or what clothes he was wearing or any of that. He didn't want to know where he was from or where he was going. He didn't even want to seethis boy in the hallways. He had the sudden, selfish, ridiculous desire for the boy to be transferred to a new home before the end of the day. Because some things were meant to stay in the past. Kurt was out of the System. He has been out of the System for nine years. It wasn't allowed to come back for him now, not here. Kurt was safe here. He needed this boy gone.
-
If there was one place Blaine did not want to be, it was sitting outside of another principal's office in the halls of another new school. If there was one thing Blaine hadn't wanted to do, it was to move homes again. He had actually been happy at the last one. He'd lived there for just over a year, and it had been one of the best years of his life. The woman, Sarah, had been kind- loving even. She'd forgiven him quickly the one time he'd slipped up and accidentally called her mom. The man, Kenneth, was funny and patient. He never hit or even raised his voice, no matter how angry he became. And Blaine had worked hard to never give him a reason to change that. He'd had his own room, food on the table every night, people who cared if he came home late. Yes, Blaine had been happy living with the Townings.
But then Sarah had gotten sick and they just couldn't afford to keep Blaine anymore, even with the financial aid from the government. They'd tried, but when Sarah's health took a turn for the worse, social services intervened and Blaine was whisked away. Again.
That was two months ago. Well, sixty-six-and-a-quarter days if anyone was counting. And Blaine was counting. Blaine was always counting- it kept him sane, gave him a sense of control. He couldn't hold on to any particular family or friend or school, but he could hold on to time. It was the one thing that never changed. Twenty-four hours in a day, sixty minutes in an hour, sixty seconds in a minute. Time didn't change.
But everything else did.
Blaine had been able to tell from the moment the front door had been opened that this homewas not going to be like the Townings. Not that he'd expected to get so lucky twice in a row. If his social worker, Carrie, could feel it too, she showed no indication. She had trudged directly up to the door, Blaine following behind her, trying to hide his hesitancy behind a composed stature. He clasped hishands politely behind his back once he reached Carrie's side at the door, squaring his shoulders as best he could, and tried to ignore the nervous lump in his throat that was threatening to cut off his air supply.
Just don't give them a reason, Blaine, he had told himself, as he always did. Be quiet, be still, don't give them a reason, and they won't hurt you. Blaine knew it was a lie- people rarely needed any actual reason to hurt him. But it was his best protection. Stay still- they won't see you, so they can't hurt you.
Then the door before them had been pulled open and Blaine had met the Dodsons. Terri Dodson was thin and short. She had been sweet to Carrie and polite to Blaine, but nothing about it felt genuine. Carrie seemed oblivious to the woman's pretenses, but then again, she'd always been a terrible judge of character. Blaine didn't see Terri as being any terrible danger, though. He figured she would probably just ignore him, which he could handle. Being ignored was nothing. Blaine was used to being ignored.
The man of the house, George Dodson, posed more of a physical threat. He was a big man. He wasn't much taller than Blaine, but he was wide with heavy arms and thick hands and a beer belly he covered with a mostly clean sports jersey. Blaine could feel his whole body ache with tension as he plastered on a smile and shook his new foster father's hand. He didn't know what to make of Mr. Dodson just yet, but he was certain life here wasn't about to be puppies and sunshine.
He had been right.
Mr. Dodson hadn't hit Blaine yet, but the teen guessed it was only a matter of time with the man's temper. Blaine had gotten too comfortable at the Townings and had succumbed to too many bad habits. He had to keep reminding himself to stay still, stay silent, stay out of sight. He knew from experience just what kind of man George Dodson was, and even though the worst he'd done so far was throw insults and poorly aimed objects, Blaine knew he was only one bad mistake awayfrom the wrong end of Mr. Dodson's fist.
There was a part of him wished his new foster father would just get it over with already. Blaine liked knowing where he stood, what topics to avoid, what rules to follow. But usually that only came from trial and error. There was no guidebook on how to survive in the System. The details varied so vastly from home to home. There was never any room for certainty. There were, however, basic guidelines that every foster kid knew. Unspoken rules that spelled out how to survive.
From a young age he'd mastered the art of still, the art of silent. Because rule number two of the System was "No one that cares can hear you, and no one that can hear you cares." And even if someone could hear you, well, that was rule number one: "No one can know." If home was hell, the only thing for a foster kid to do was to lie and pretend it wasn't. If anyone found out, that kid would be bounced- shipped off to a new home. There were those who thought that was a better alternative.
"At least you'll be getting out of the home you're in now," they wouldsay. "There's always a chance the next place will be better."
Which was true, Blaine knew. But there was also a chance the next home could be so much worse.
No. Still and silent was better. Take whatever your guardians dish out, because at least you know where you stand. At least you know what's going to happen. Once you get bounced, you have to start all over again. It was a new game with new rules andnew forms of hell, and no way of knowing how anything worked. It all became a guessing game, and Blaine hated guessing.
An angry couple walked out of the office behind him, still arguing loudly. Their sudden arrival made Blaine jump, yanking him out of his thoughts. He tried to play off his flinch as best he could, but it didn't seem to matter. The couple wasn't looking at him anyway, and somewhere between his arrival and that moment, the students had all cleared the hallway. Blaine hadn't even noticed the bell ringing, he had been so caught up in his thoughts. Silently, Blaine scolded himself. He had a problem with letting his thoughts run away with him, another bad habit he'd picked up while living with the Townings. That was dangerous. He needed to work on that.
"Blaine Anderson?" Blaine's eyes shot up in surprise to find the speaker, a woman in her mid-forties standing at the doorway to the office. He covered his momentary shock with a classic Blaine Anderson smile. He'd been practicing it for years, perfecting it. Rule number one.
"Yes ma'am, that's me," Blaine rose from his seat respectfully, his hands at his sides.
"Well, Principal Figgins wants to see you now," she informed him, eyeing him up and down with a judgemental scrutiny that made Blaine feel more than a little bit uncomfortable, even though he was used to it. Of course she would know where he was from, what he was. Those kinds of stares followed him everywhere. That didn't make them easier to handle. But he smiled at her anyway.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, walking past her when she gestured for him to go inside. He walked across the small waiting area, reaching the glass door which had PRINCIPAL FIGGINS inscribed across it in black letters. He opened the door incrementally, knocked politely, and waited for permission to enter.
"Come in new pupil." The man behind the desk, who Blaine has presumed to be Principal Figgins had a blunt, straightforward way of speaking that put Blaine on edge and made him want to turn and run. But Blaine was never one to deny an order. He walked into the room and stood a respectful distance from the desk.
"Sit," theman instructed in the same oddly direct manner.
"Yessir," Blaine replied before reluctantly taking his seat. Blaine didn't like sitting. He didn't like being alone in small enclosed spaces with other people. Especially not with people he didn't know. It was that guessing game all over again. He didn't like not knowing how he should react or what he should say or what the man in front of him would do. He didn't like feeling like he couldn't run. It made him jumpy and nervous.. More than anything, Blaine just wanted out of that room, or at least out of the chair. He wanted to pace and scream and run for his life and get the hell out of this town.
But he didn't.
Because Principal Figgins told him to sit, so Blaine would sit. He would sit and be calm and polite and still. Everything would be okay, he knew, if he could just sit still. His hands betrayed him, twitching with all of his nervous energy.
"You are Blaine Anderson, correct?" Figgins asked, glancing up from what Blaine assumed was his personal file, his eyes falling onthe teen. Blaine nodded.
"Yessir."
"And you are a junior here at McKinley now, are you not?" Principal Figginsstudied Blaine's face intently, making Blaine feel all the more uncomfortable. A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he managed to smiled politely.
"Yessir," Blaine affirmed.
"We don't want any trouble here, is that understood, Mr. Anderson? We have to keep our students here feeling comfortable. There can be no hooliganism." Of course he would assume Blaine meant trouble. He was a foster kid, and everyone knew what that meant. It wasn't the man's fault, Blaine reminded himself. With the number of homes Blaine had been to, it was probably easy to assume Blaine meant trouble. The file given to the school showed the numbers, the figures, but never the reasons. Maybe that was for the better. Still, Blaine hadn't been at McKinley for more than forty-five minutes,and already everyone assumed he was trouble. Typical. Blaine felt his jaw tighten.
"Yessir, understood." He nodded briefly. "No trouble."
"Alright," Principal Figgins said after a moment. "Here is your class schedule. You can ask Mrs. Kindle or Ms. Taylors at the desk if you have any questions." He held out a small white sheet of paper, and Blaine took it gingerly before standing. He gave the principal an appreciative smile.
"Thank you sir," Blaine said agreeably. When he didn't move to leave, Figgins raised an eyebrow.
"You may go," he told Blaine, and the teen nodded before heading to the door. Blaine was just about to pull the metal handle when the principal's voice stopped him.
"I don't expect to see you here again, Mr. Anderson." Blaine flinched- he hadn't been expecting any further comments. He chided himself over the slip. He really needed to be better about that- to relax,and not be so on edge. He couldn't risk someone noticing. Blaine turned to smile at Figgins.
"Of course not, Sir," Blaine assured him politely. "No trouble, remember?"
The principal simply nodded and Blaine took that as his cue to leave. He nodded respectfully at the women at the desk before dropping his eyes down to his schedule. He could feel the secretaries' eyes on him, making him feel small and jumpy. He just hoped that word of who he was- what he was- hadn't spread around school already. Blaine didn't think he could handle all those stares, all the questions that would no doubt follow. Just thinking about it made Blaine's pulse race, so he blocked the thought from his mind. He would get through this day the same way he got through every other one, he told himself. He would be quiet, he would be still, and he would focus on one class at a time.
He just hoped people would leave him alone.
