Hey! Thanks to all those readers who favorited or subscribed (I think that's the right term.) So we are finally introduced to Jeff and Nick! Also another character, who I have yet to decide whether or not they should be a voice of reason or add to the angst. If you guys could let me know which one is preferred that would be great! Also I'm going on vacation, so it might be sometime before my next upload. Other then that enjoy!
PS: Sorry this chapter is a little short, i'll try and make future ones longer.
October 23, 10:25 am
"Yes, yes dad I'm all unpacked...No, everything is fine. I know, I'll call if anything happens. Okay, love you too bye." Kurt hangs up the phone, a sullen expression now etching into his skin. He stares at the receiver, unaware of the potential magic he will discover in this new universe; he is quietly aching to just return home, his real home.
"Ah, Mr. Hummel"
He quickly pivots toward the voice; eyes widening slightly in shock.
"Um…hello" he says to the man.
Kurt temporarily assesses this man's appearance. Judging by the portable mug of coffee and prim-ness of his tweed blazer he assumes the stranger is in fact a teacher.
"Professor Harvey, but you can just call me Harv." He says firmly grasping the alabaster hand in an eager handshake.
"I just wanted to introduce myself, welcome you to our prestigious campus" He pronounces theatrically, arms spreading as if to emphasize the obvious grandeur of their surroundings.
"Y-Yes, it's, um, quite b-beautiful" Kurt utters, slightly taken a back by the jovial energy radiating from this man. "I'm sorry, what is it you teach?"
"French, I actually have you a student. Which is why I figured salutations would be nice." He replies, the exuberant smile still puckering his cheeks into tiny mountains.
"Harv" is quite young looking for his 35 years of age. He is well beloved among the students. Of course, this maybe because in comparison with other faculty. Harv has a heart. Therefore, his status among the miscreants is well promulgated amongst the flittering gossip.
His hair curls wildly with tips of silver peeking its way through the painted waves of browns and chestnuts. His minty green eyes swirl and combine, birthing new hues of the forest with every turn. Frankly, "Harv" was quite attractive (not that Kurt would ever acknowledge his appearance.) His tall frame was protruding with beefy muscles, which Kurt could outline underneath his business-casual attire. His smile was simply put, dumb-striking. As if he had implanted light bulbs to blind anyone he flashes. They glittered white underneath his straight, manly jaw and left Kurt in a hypnotized state. It was only until he stopped grinning did Kurt notice the man was speaking.
"W-what?" He asked innocently. Roses budding on his cheeks from his embarrassment.
" Did you meet your mentor yet?" He asked, head tilting to the side.
"Oh, um, I don't think I was given one."
"Oh well that simply can't be! Well, we'll have to fix that pronto!" Harv begins to turn around, taking giant steps that boom against the marble flooring. Midway through his departure he turns around. Curiosity held atop his wrinkling eyebrows. "Coming?" He asked.
"O-oh, um right" Kurt says quickly gaining pace to sync with the now moving Harv.
October 23, 2:30 pm
"Warblers! Warblers please be quiet!" Wes belts behind the cherry desk.
His gavel posed threateningly above its stand, ready to clap at any disturbance. At sight that would freeze any underclassmen with sheer fear.
To say that their bi-weekly meeting was unsuccessful would be a complete understatement. In lieu of the Warbler's introduction to show-choir competitions, Wes initiated a discussion of what songs they should perform for the upcoming invitational. Lucidly put, their bantering was as progressive as Kim Kardashian's "relationship" with that basketball player. Ergo, each and every boy's mind was currently rupturing in ear-splitting headaches, that or they had decided to divvy into the realms of unconsciousness.
"Come on people! We need ideas!...And no Thad we are not doing Avril Lavigne, we've achieved maximum pop quota for the next decade." Wes said exasperatedly.
In the far corner Thad put his head down dejectedly. Thus leaving a dead-end to anyone voicing an idea, it had seemed as if all of the music in the world would not suffice for the intended mind-blowing routine. Nettled by this discourse, or lack they're of, Wes sighed.
"Just, everybody take a break, I guess" He said, already making way for the outdoor exit.
"Goodness I thought that would never end!" Jeff professed, exhaling a rather relieved breath. "Seriously I thought I was getting claustrophobic or something!"
"Just imagine what sectionals will be like" Nick remarked, a grin plastering his face form Jeff's humorous behavior.
"Oh geez!...Do you think it's too late to sign up for the yearbook instead?" He asked, already visualizing Wes's warpath for order.
"Ha-ha, there, there Jeffy; I'm sure he won't be too crazy" Nick replied, patting Jeff's knee in mock sympathy.
"That's sarcasm, right?"
"No, I seriously believe WES of all people will be completely calm by the time our first competition rolls around."
Jeff groaned. Rolling onto his stomach, as if lying down would thwart the obvious repercussions of Wes's terminal competition-anxiety. Nick couldn't help but snicker at Jeff's exaggerated protests.
Suddenly the intercom awakened. Mrs. Stumps' nasally voice interrupting the Warblers' peace of mind.
"Jeff Mitchell and Blaine Anderson to the main office please, Jeff Mitchell and Blaine Anderson to the main office." Soundly ending with a small beep.
Slightly confused both Warblers exited the slew of sleep-deprived vocalists and ventured towards their destination.
Wes stood outside in the foggy air. The weather billowed about, making the atmosphere damp and sodden. However in the arcs of ghostly grays, weather was insignificant.
He tilts his head back. Letting a funnel of smoke propel from his lips. Heaven. Succulent heaven. Captivating him in the unadulterated taste, so much awareness tumbles to the floor.
" Ay Montgomery!" A voice hollers, effectively breaking Wes's high.
Shock and anxiety quickly morphs into anger.
"What are you doing here!" Wes replies, fire beaming in his eyes.
Mrs. Stump is a blue-haired meatball. He lipsticks cakes her teeth, more then it does her actual lips. Corroding in the hollow of her lids is a neon-blue eyeshade, which only accents the sickly brown to her aging skin. In short, she was not an attractive sight, at least not since the 1930's.
"Anderson inside, Mitchell phone." She says bossily, no bothering to peer over the computer screen and address them respectfully.
Both boys send a fleeting glance to one another, as if to say 'good luck.'
"Ah Mr. Anderson!"
"Oh, hey Harv" He says, feeling the escalating anxiety flush from his body.
"I'd like you to meet somebody" Harv says, his iconic smile beaming brilliantly.
It is then Blaine notices there is another occupant in the small office (which really served no greater purpose then to supply the teachers with a room in which students had the designation to cry). A face, a fair-skinned man, luminescent like the moon. With two expressive oceans, staring directly at him. As if electrocuted; Blaine recognizes this person. No, no way….
"Blaine, this is Kurt Hummel."
It has been said that when a beam of light radiates from the heavens and adorns a person's world with pure happiness, another on the opposing side of the sun is immediately cast into the shadows. Whether this poetic mumbo-jumbo holds truth would seem irrelevant, especially to Jeff.
"Hello?" He says into the receiver.
Mrs. Stump's types idly from behind, attempting to conceal her eavesdropping. Of course, Jeff pays no mind to her presence as the usually cheerful voice of his mother responds.
"Jeff, honey?" She says, a quiver of sadness striking his ears.
"Mom? What's wrong? Are dad and Nancy okay?" he asked.
"Yes they're fine…"He can hear the "but" coming; unease begins it's construction. "It's your cousin Margaret…she's dead."
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