A/N: Well hello there. I can't thank you guys enough for the reviews, favourites and alerts this story has received so far. I was shocked when I logged into my email and found so many notifications. So I decided to give you chapter two earlier than I'd initially planned. Its also longer.
The introduction of more Glee characters in this one as Blaine enters McKinley. There's a lot of interaction between Blaine and his little sister as well :) Anyway I'll shut up now and let you read. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Saffron, Matt and Jade. The rest belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy. If I could I would own Kurt Hummel and buy him all the designer clothes his lovely heart desired.
Chapter Two – First Day
Operation: pretend I'm straight, begins this morning.
I'm already a little nervous as I dress for the day. I've spent so long in a school where everyone knows my sexuality, that I can't remember what it's like to be otherwise.
The boy next door has already opened his curtains when I peer out of my window. I squint into the daylight filled room, and not for the first time scold myself for doing so. It's creepy. And yet my eyes try to focus past the reflection of the withering foliage of Ohio. My view is obscured and I drag my eyes back into my room and cringe at myself. He didn't come over to say Hi like his dad said he might, and if he catches me trying to look into his room like some pervert he probably never will. Straight boys don't watch other guys in their bedrooms from afar, I remind myself.
I push it to the back of my mind and get ready for my first day at my new school. Mckinley High, I think Dad said.
"Remember you're dropping your sister off too," Dad says from the kitchen table as I enter. No hello as usual.
I pop two slices of bread into the newly unpacked toaster and roll my eyes to myself. "I know."
"Make sure you walk her to the principal's office. The last thing we need is her getting lost and being late on her first day."
"Mhmm."
"Dad, I'm not a baby," Saffron says from next to him. "I can find my own way to the office." I lean against the kitchen counter and study her face. Her delicate skin is swollen around her beautiful hazel eyes and my insides squirm in a familiar motion of guilt.
Dad ignores her. "Remember what we talked about, Blaine. Keep your head down and try not to … you know …"
My fingernails dig into my palm as he struggles to finish the sentence.
"…try not to draw attention to yourself." Dad settles on.
I grind my teeth together and nod, turning to tend to my toast that pops up.
"You two should probably get going. You need to leave time to get from your sisters school to yours." Dad lifts his newspaper over his face.
I don't answer, to busy stuffing my first piece of toast in my mouth only to hold the second between my teeth to free up my hands. "Come on Saff," I mumble through the toast and pick up my school bag. She stalks passed me.
"Bye Saffron," Dad calls. She slams the front door in response, with me on the wrong side of it. I sigh and open the door again.
The black navigator is already gone I note as I pull out of my driveway. It occurs to me I don't know what school he goes to. It would be nice to sort of, but not really, know someone before I go, even if it is just by sight.
"You mad at me or Dad?" I ask Saffron when we are halfway to her school.
"Dad," she says and turns a curious eye on me. "Why?"
"Well, you kind of haven't said two words to me since we left New Jersey and … you slammed the door in my face."
She bites her lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean to … I was just making a point to him that I haven't forgiven him."
I grip the steering wheel tightly. "But … you've forgiven me?" I'm avoiding looking at her so I don't catch the bewildered stare she settles on me.
"Why do I need to forgive you?"
"We wouldn't have moved if it wasn't for me being…"
"Shut up, Blaine."
My head snaps to her in indignation.
"I mean it," she gives me a hard look, eyebrows raised in defiance. "I don't care what some people think. You are awesome, and it's not your fault the assholes in our old town couldn't see that. It's not your fault Dad couldn't take it and ran us out of the state. So shut up blaming yourself. All you did was like kissing guys. I don't blame you. Guys are hot."
I snort and try to hide my smile as I scold her. "Don't swear. It's not ladylike."
"Not Blaine-like either. I actually can't remember the last time I heard you cuss."
"I wish I could say the same about you."
She rolls her eyes. "I like having a gay brother. I can talk to you about guys."
"Okay, I'm not sure I want to have that kind of conversation with you." I shudder theatrically. "You're twelve."
She pokes her tongue out and turns back to her window. We're silent for a few minutes.
"That guy next door is cute." Her tone is conversational but I know her well enough to hear the slight inflection of tease.
"Ask him out then," I say, trying to keep my voice even.
"Nah, I'm pretty sure he's too old for me. I mean he looks kind of young, but judging by his height, I'm guessing he's at least sixteen. Plus I saw him leave this morning from my window. His jeans are really tight." She smirks at me.
"So?"
"Like, really REALLY tight, big bro."
I chuckle to myself. "Not all tight jean wearers are gay, Saff."
"Imma get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight," she sings.
"We're here." I park up near the front of Saffron's new middle school happy to get off the subject. I ruffle her curly hair affectionately. "OK, so I know Dad told me to walk you to the Principle, but there's a sign saying where it is. You don't need me right?"
"I got this," she says, her confident mask already in place, but I can see the slight edge, the grit of her teeth. She's nervous, but only years of observation have taught me the signs. She winks and hops out of the passenger side. "Let me know if Skin-Tight-Jeans goes to your school." She slams the door shut before I can splutter a comeback.
I wait until she's safely inside the building before I make the five minute drive to Mckinley. There are very few parking spots left to choose from in the lot, and I end up as far away from the entrance as I can get. I make it to the Principal's office just as the bell signals the start of homeroom.
"Mr. Anderson, you're late," Principal Figgins says as I sit down opposite him in his office.
"Sorry Sir, I had to take my little sister to her school. It's her first day to."
"Don't let it happen again," he carries on in a bored tone. He doesn't look up once, reading my transcript. "So you're from New Jersey."
"Yes sir. My dad got a job here so …" We ran away, I finished silently.
There's a knock at the door and a tall blonde girl with her hair up in a tight ponytail enters. She wears a red cheerleading uniform - the word Cheerios emblazoned on the front. She hands Principal Figgins a note.
"Coach Sylvester asked me to give you this. I was supposed to give it to you yesterday but the elf that hibernates in my locker stole it. I only just got it back after I promised it a cookie."
I look between the girl and Principal Figgins unsure of whether I'm supposed to laugh or not, although the chuckle bubbles up none the less. I cough it back, not wanting to appear rude. The Principal doesn't even react, his eyes scanning the note.
"Your Cheerios budget doesn't cover tanning, Sue," Principal Figgins grumbled, crunching up the note and tossing it in the trash can near the door.
The cheerleaders vacant gaze lands on me. "Hi."
"Hello," I say.
"Miss Pierce, take Mr. Anderson to his new Homeroom." He hands her some paper I assume has the room number on it, and me a stack of pages with my new timetable sat on top.
"Stay out of trouble, and welcome to Mckinley, Mr. Anderson."
"Thank you, sir." I rise from my seat and offer my hand out of habit to the Principal but he isn't looking at me. I hastily lower it and follow the blonde girl as she skips out the door, ponytail swinging behind her. We're halfway down the first hall when she speaks.
"So, are you new?"
"Yeah, that's why I don't know where my Homeroom is," I say conversationally.
"Oh. I thought that maybe you'd forgot where it is. I do that sometimes."
Right … I follow her, the rest of the way in silence and we arrive outside the room just as the bell goes for first period.
"Well, here you are. It was nice meeting you new boy. FYI if you ever want to tap this let me know." She walks off and I'm left gawping after her. Well that's a new one. I smile to myself as she meets up with a dark haired cheerleader by a locker and they walk down the corridor with linked pinkies.
Operation: pretend I'm straight is on track so far.
It's too late for homeroom so I look down at my timetable to see what my first class is. That is until my stack of papers is shoved out of my hands by something – excuse me – someone large in a red McKinley jacket.
"Watch it hobbit!" The boy slaps fives with another guy in the same jacket. Well it would appear I've identified McKinley's resident King Douche.
I'm bent down to scoop up my scattered papers when two slender and pale hands start helping me, piling them up neatly with practiced ease. My eyes travel up slim arms and I'm looking at the top of a head of well groomed light brown hair. The boy stands and I look up from my position on the floor to see it's the owner of the black navigator next door, holding my papers out to me.
It's the first time I've seen him up close and I find myself fascinated by the porcelain white of his skin, made more so against the dreary back drop, the yellow walls and the red lockers. He's taller than me by a few inches, and his full lips are downturned, his azul eyes solemn, but there's a twinkle of something there. I pinpoint it as understanding. Of what, though?
"Thanks," I say and rise to my feet to take the pile from him.
He tilts his head. "Watch out for Karofsky. He likes fresh meat to pick on. You fit the bill."
I nod shyly. His voice is breathy and higher than most guys over sixteen, and I remember the beautiful tone to his singing – the same but so different. When he sang last night his vocal was powerful, but now he is softly spoken, like he wants you to have to lean in to hear him at all. I'm more than a little intrigued.
I realize I haven't responded and shake my head to clear it of melodious renditions of Rent.
"Noted," I say. I still don't know where my first class is and riffle through the pile trying to find my timetable again. The boy plucks the sheet from me and scans it. He winces.
"Ouch, you've got Calculus first period. You're in luck though. You've got French second period with me. Come on, I'll walk you to your first class. If English doesn't wear me out with Shakespearean men delving into madness and poetry before their ironic deaths, I might come get you after and walk you to second period."
I'm slightly taken aback by this. Not even Matt and Jade were this friendly to me when we entered middle school, back before I realized I was gay. Way before the school realized.
"Thanks," I say in relief. I follow him down the emptying hallway. "My name is Blaine." I hold my hand out.
He eyes it for a moment and grasps it with his own smaller hand. "Kurt. You just moved in next door to me, right?"
I peer up at him in surprise. I thought he hadn't seen me. "Um, yeah. I met your dad yesterday."
"I know. He told me to come by and say hi, but I had homework."
"Right." I smirk at the memory of him singing his heart out and dancing around his bedroom. His homework sounds fun.
"What are you smiling at?" Kurt arches a superior eyebrow at me, and I duck my head to hide the guilty heat sneaking up to my cheeks.
"Nothing."
My lowered gaze lingers over Kurt's hip and travels down his legs and – holy crap those jeans are tight. An image of Saffron nodding smugly at me with raised suggestive eyebrows catches me off guard and I snort and cover my mouth.
Kurt stops walking and turns a confused glare on me. "OK, answer me this - are you laughing at me, or is that a nervous tick? Cos I don't waste my time on closed minded Neanderthals who take one look at me and decide there and then, I'm a joke."
I sober immediately, surprised by this sudden swing in direction. "What? No! I just … thought of something my sister said this morning about y – no one in particular – and it was funny…"
Kurt looks me over with shrewd piercing eyes, lips pursed, and I feel exposed, like I'm being x-rayed on the spot. The cloud of confused suspicion clears but is replaced with an unreadable expression partnered with a long necked cock of the head.
"Fine."
He spins on his heel and carries on walking. I follow from a few spaces behind until he stops at a door.
"Here you go," Kurt says, gesturing inside the classroom.
I open my mouth to thank him but he cuts over me, "I'll see you in French," and stalks off, back ramrod straight, head held high.
I watch him go in complete bewilderment. I replay our entire conversation in my head as I hand my transfer note to the teacher and sit down for calculus in the only vacant seat, elbows resting on the desk. I feel as though I might have just made a friend and lost one in the space of two minutes. And I have no idea how.
He doesn't come collect me for French. He doesn't look at me in French when I find it. In fact he's one of the first to leave when the bell goes. It's like our exchange never happened. And I wonder on more than one occasion if it wasn't just some hallucination.
I spot him on the way to Lunch and he is stood with a smiling black girl by a set of lockers. I consider apologizing to him, but to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what I did.
Drama Queen, I think darkly.
No wait, that's not fair, I reason. I hate it when people make assumptions about me. I'll be the bigger person here and not assume he's a volatile little … something really bad. I walk by as Kurt leans his head against a locker and looks down at his friend with a fond smile and I catch her eye. She seems curious, and a comprehending nod in my direction is evidence to suggest he might have mentioned me. Great, it's already spreading around that I'm an accidental douche.
I meander through the halls to the cafeteria and vow to stop thinking about it, which is easier said than done, when the object of my irritation is sat across the cafeteria from me, perfect posture, stabbing moodily at a salad while a short girl with dark hair and a questionable cat sweater talks his ear off.
In fact the only time I'm not thinking about it is when a distraction comes in the form of the cheerleader with one heck of an imagination and her Latina friend, who walk up to my deserted table at Lunch, the dark haired settling in my lap before I can move.
"Hey there hot stuff. Brit says you're new. Santana," she introduces. She flicks her right leg over her left one, and even I'm fascinated by how this practiced move rides her red skirt up her thighs. It's clever. She seems pleased with my wide eyed response.
"H-Hi?" I say.
Santana leers down at me and wraps her arms around my neck. "We got ourselves a shy one, Brit."
"Try standing on one leg and hopping in a circle."
I raise a triangular eyebrow at the blonde one. "What?"
"This is Brittany. Listen Hobbit, Brits and I have a pretty perfect record in this school, and we want to keep it that way, so if you wants' to get on this," she flips her hair back, "let us know."
"You'd totally be doing us a favor," Brittany added.
"Oh, yeah erm … thanks?"
Do – Not – Gulp.
I've just discovered it's difficult to not look frightened by a horny girl when A) said horny girl is sat on your lap looking at you, with a feline curiosity and a puckered mouth that can't seem to choose whether it should attack your face or not, and B) no horny girl has ever so much as looked your way or considered you a viable option until this moment.
Unless you count that time Jade and Matt had a big fight. She came over to my house and jumped me. But even then it was half hearted and she was easy to talk sense into.
I'm not sure I see what other boys like in this kind of situation.
"I uh, I need to go … now." I peel her off me and hurry from the cafeteria, only looking up to see Kurt watching me from near the door with undisguised disgust.
I take it back. Screw being the bigger person. He's a judgmental bitch.
By the end of the day I'm exhausted from new classes, homework, being attacked by two cheerleaders and ignored in general by the vast majority of the student population. I collapse into my car just as my phone vibrates.
Hey B, How's Ohio? Made any friends yet? Jade x
I drag my hand through my messy curls and type back;
Hey JJ. It's OK I guess. And No, I haven't. How's hell? B x
I'm waiting for Saffron in the parking lot when I receive another text.
Damn. Aren't they friendly? The same as always. You're famous. Jade x
I ignore the last part. Are they friendly?
For the most part. Too early to judge, B.
I place my phone back in my bag and lean my head back against the head rest tiredly, and before long Saffron climbs into the passenger seat, her bag dumped in the back.
"I fucking hate Ohio!" she says folding her arms across her chest.
"Language," I scold. "What happened?" I lean my arm against the steering wheel and hook her dark curls behind her ear.
"Head cheerleaders a bitch, that's what."
"LAN-GUAGE!" I say sharply. "And put your seat belt on."
She grimaces sheepishly and secures her belt. "Sor-ry. I just had a crappy day."
I roll my eyes up to my head, but let that word slide. "So it's not so much you hate Ohio, just the cheerleader," I deduce. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really. I can take her." She smirks and I almost pity Miss-head-cheerleader. Almost. Saffron's always been the stronger of the two of us. If anyone can take a bad situation and turn it in her own favor, it's my sister.
"So, how was your day?" Saffron asks when we are halfway home.
"It was OK. I got accosted by a dappy cheerleader and her friend."
"Figures." Saffron smirked "Good looking guy like you. What did they say when you told them you're gay? I'd love to have seen their faces."
I grip the steering wheel tighter and focus on a truck weaving past a parked car onto my side of the road. I forgot she never heard the conversation between me and Dad.
"Blaine? You did tell them, right?"
"Define, tell?"
She doesn't clarify. I can feel her scrutinizing glare on me. I wait. She's smart. She'll work it out in a minute. And then…
"That son of a bitch!"
"Oh for f- the love of god!" I catch myself and pull over so I can glare at her. "STOP SWEARING! You're twelve."
"You're nearly seventeen! Start swearing!" she counters and drag's her gaze away to stare at my dash like it'll burst into flames if she does so hard enough. I leave her for a few minutes to cool off her volatile temper. When she peers up at me, her eyes are softer, eyebrows knitted together.
"That's what he meant this morning, isn't it?"
I cock my head to the side in question.
"When he told you not to draw attention to yourself," she clarifies. She waits for me to confirm, but I don't. She drops her voice, like what she's about to say is unspeakable. "He wants you to pretend, doesn't he?"
My throat is thick. Why does she have to be so damn smart? I nod, not trusting my voice. She leans her head back against the head rest.
"And you're going to do it?" I don't expect the soft tone. I expected her to yell at me. She doesn't.
"It's better this way." I say my throat hoarse. "Less likely I'll be bullied."
She doesn't look convinced. "Urgh this sucks!" She lifts her legs up so she's sat awkwardly in the fetal position. "OK, promise me something."
I frown, and nod for her to continue.
"Don't do it for Dad. Please. It's your life and he's an ass. If you're going to hide it, do it because you want to. Not because he wants you to."
I chew the inside of my mouth in irritation that she'd assume I'm doing it for Dad. I smile weakly at her. "Sure thing, Saff."
She watches me with a critical eye for a few moments and leans back, satisfied. "So, does Skin-Tight-Jeans go to your school?" Her tone is teasing.
My stomach squirms and I shove her shoulder lightly. "Shut up."
She grins, but lets it go as I put the car into drive again. We stay in a comfortable silence the rest of the journey.
I hear him singing again that night as I do my homework on my newly reassembled desk; although it's decidedly less Broadway this time.
"Can't read my, can't read my,
No he can't read my poker face,
(She's got to love nobody)"
I smile to myself. Even if I am kind of mad at him, he does sing Gaga well.
When my homework is done for the night he is still singing. Curiosity gets the better of me. Lamp off, I make my way cautiously to the window and lower myself onto a chair beside it, protected from sight by darkness. He's sat at a vanity, rubbing something into his face and neck; the continuous melody switches from a gentle rendition of Spoon Full of Sugar, to Feed the Birds from Mary Poppins.
Visions of me curled up on the couch with Mom watching the movie, a young Saffron balancing on her knee pop into my head and I smile wistfully at the simpler days we'd shared.
Much later when Kurt has closed his curtains, his voice still drifts into the room through his open window. It's like he's a human ipod. And I listen from my cocoon under the covers;
"Somewhere over the rainbow,
Way up high,
in the land,
that I heard of once,
in a lullaby."
It's soothing as I lay deep in contemplation. Saffron's words cross my mind more than once. She doesn't understand the full situation though. Only sees from her perspective. And yes I resent my Dad, but I feel like his way probably is easier. If today is anything to go by I can pass for straight. If I just keep my head down, maybe just maybe I can keep under the radar. At least until I've worked out just how homophobic this school is. If they are accepting.
If. For a word so small it sure has a lot riding on it.
I huff out a breath and turn over onto my stomach, bunching the pillow up. My mind drifts to the oddest part of my day. It isn't that cheerleader, Brittany and the random things she says, or the very forward … Santana, I think her name was? The jock who targeted me upon first contact was nothing new, and it definitely isn't the silent treatment from Skin-Tight-Jeans – Oh great, Saffs got that one into my head too – I'm more than used to the cold shoulder from complete strangers. No, it's the fact that in this instance, with this one person who I have spoken to for ten seconds, and observed from afar, I care about his opinion of me.
If happy little bluebirds fly
above the rainbow, why
Oh, why can't I?
Huh, well that's new.
You can drop me a review if you like :)
Songs are Poker Face by Lady Gaga and Somewhere over the Rainbow by Judy Garland and several other artists since.