On a really embarrassing note: I apologize for the grammatical error(s) in which I started referring to Kurt with female pronouns. Whoops. It's all fixed. I was able to catch most of them on my read-through, but apparently not all of them. Thanks to those who pointed it out!
Shocked by the turn of events, I didn't even realize they were sending us off to class until Blaine and Sue dumped me off at one of the guidance counselor's offices. She was an old Moroi and kept glaring at me as I rattled off classes I had taken while on the run. The whole thing took about ten minutes and then I had a schedule and was on my way.
Looking over the classes, I frowned. After having every class with Brittany for the past few years, I had forgotten about our school's scheduling policy: Moroi and novices were split up during the morning for four periods, each working on subject matter pertinent to what their race's role in society was, and then everyone got lumped together in the afternoon.
I looked down at my schedule as Blaine and Sue led me to the gymnasium for my first class. The only class I had any hope of being with Brittany in was my very last class, Slavic Art, an elective that seemed horrible enough to throw recently captures runaways in for the sake of pure torture.
Grumbling, I kept my head down as I walked into the gym. It was a training period, which meant I awkwardly stood off to the side as the other novices dragged out mats. I could've sworn Blaine glanced at me once, as if to say Well aren't you going to go participate? but I couldn't be sure.
Lauren, one of the three only female novices in my year, was the first to spot me. She didn't make a big deal of it and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel comforted or shocked by that. "Well, well, well," she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest when she stopped in front of me. She was big - in the sense that she wasn't fat, but her frame was just humongous and I coud easily hide behind her with all the muscle she'd built up over the years - and her presence nearly overpowered me.
Nearly. I jutted my chin up in the air a little, willing her to try and stand above me. Brittany and I had once run this school and I could see in Lauren's eyes that she was expecting me to be my usual badass self like before.
"So glad to see you've decided to grace us with your company," she continued, a smirk on her lips. "I know we can't all be as great as the Hummel family but-"
"Give him a break, Lauren," came another voice and she stepped aside to let me see that the whole class had stopped what they were doing to figure out what was going on.
The voice belonged to Rachel, a tiny, annoying slip of a girl, and I fet my lips tighten. She always felt her only true physical match was against me and her small size made her more of a ninja than most of the guys might've liked to admit. Last I'd heard, she'd been able to take out four opponents (including Lauren) in three minutes.
For as egotistical as she could be, she was actually kind of sweet. Something akin to a friendship had been forming between us after years of bitter rivalry before I left and I wondered if she remembered that.
"Sorry, Fairy," Lauren muttered, stalking off.
Rachel smiled at me and I focused on her. The stares of my classmates could be dealt with in a minute.
"How are you?" she asked and I felt a rush of gratitude. Not once since this whole mess started did anyone ask me that.
"I've been better." I shrugged.
One of the guys spoke up. "So you're back now?"
"Yeah, Mike, I am." I smiled, despite the snark in my tone. Mike was pretty cool and had gotten me into a lot of parties. "I wouldn't just be standing here by my own choice."
The others started warming up after that and they took a few minutes to try and squeeze information out of me - where I'd gone, why I'd left, what it was like - before the guardian overseeing the class broke up the group and told us to get to work.
"Who's leading?" I asked as Rachel grabbed my hand and dragged me towards a mat in the back corner.
"Artie, I think. Or Finn. Or Eddie. One of those three." She sized me up. "I'm not going to hold back, okay?"
I nodded, dropping down to start stretching.
"Think you'll be able to keep up?" she asked after a few minutes.
At the end of class, I had my answer. Groaning, I rolled over on my stomach.
"I hate you, Rachel."
"No you don't. You're just horribly behind. Here." She held out her hand and I took a good minute to stand up.
"No offense, Kurt, because I'm known for being brutally honest and secretly cutthroat and most people start to tune me out about fifteen seconds after I start talking-"
I waved a hand in her face. "Rachel? Your point?"
"Oh!" She busied herself with folding the mat back up and kicking towards Eddie Castile who had come over to get it. "My point is that I don't think you're going to be ready to graduate on time, let alone the field experience in the spring."
Ah. The field experience. It was the big event that all senior novices looked forward to their entire school career. We would have no classes for eight weeks while we followed a Moroi we were assigned to. Guardians would stage attacks on the Moroi and we'd have to do our best to "kill" them off. The marks we got were probably more important than the testing we went through right before graduation and would play a huge deciding factor in who our post-graduation charge would be.
"I'm putting in extra time," I said, a permanent wince on my face as we left the gymnasium and started across the quad towards the academic building.
"With who?"
"Anderson. Blaine. Whatever his name is."
Rachel's already large eyes grew into the size of saucers as she stopped me and whirled to stand right in my path.
"You're-but-" She looked me up and down.
"What?"
"Anderson's . . . a god," she breathed. "There's no other word for him. He's even better than me, though I suppose it's because he's 24 and would have seven more years of experience that I've yet to gain, but when he fights . . ." She bit her lip. "You're going to feel like ground meat when he's done with you. Just because he's short doesn't mean he isn't any less of a brilliant fighter. I heard he's killed six Strigoi. Could you confirm that for me?"
I let out a laugh, internally groaning at the thought of fate being cruel enough to put me with the best fighter since Jackie Chan. "I'll see what I can do."
My second class, Bodyguard Theory and Personal Protection 3, didn't go much better. It was run by Stan Alto, a man who loved to pick on anything that breathed the wrong way. Most novices got through his class unharmed but I seemed to be a magnet for things like Stan Alto to happen to me.
His scowl only intensified when he saw me sitting somewhere between the middle and back of the classroom, as close to the door as I could get without looking like I wanted to be anywhere else. He put his clipboard down on the desk in the front of the room and slowly ambled over next to me.
Rachel shot me a sympathetic look from across the room.
"Kurt Hummel." If I was the inventor of sarcasm, Stan was the subject's leading expert. "I am genuinely shocked. I don't recall having a guest speaker planned for months. Have you decided to finally grace us all with your presence?"
The amount of restraint I mustered up to just not walk out was impressive.
"Well go on. Get up there. Share your wisdom with us."
Wishing the floor would swallow me up, I muttered, "What are you-"
"Get up there, Hummel," he ordered, and I practically flung myself out of the seat in an effort to comply. Stan was intimidating and crossing him was like pissing off a starving bear in the middle of a forest where no one would hear your screams.
My heart sank when I saw Blaine standing in the back with a few other guardians. I'd almost forgotten that guardians patrolled classrooms.
I barely noticed Stan walking back up to the front of the room, standing next to me with his arms across his chest.
"Go ahead. Share with us on how you kept Princess Pierce safe."
My hands clenched and unclenched into fists by my sides.
"What techniques did you use?" he clarified. I could sense the balance between how amused he was and the situation was tipping in his favor.
The stupid look I must have given him was like I was asking for more ridicule from him.
"Did you go outside at night? What did you do to keep her safe? Seeing as your standing right in front of me, very much alive, I can easily assume you never ran into any Strigoi."
Stan had always had a tight control over his classroom. Nobody said a word as they watched me get ripped to shreds in front of them. Blaine's expression was unreadable. Even class clowns like Finn and Lauren didn't laugh.
"No," I said, my voice barely an inch or two from breaking. "We didn't go out at night."
"So you slept during the day and guarded at night."
I shook my head.
"Really? That's pretty stupid if you ask me, considering it was a point mentioned hundreds of times over in our unit on solo guarding." He gave me a taunting smirk. "I'm sorry. Silly me. I forgot. We did that in junior year when you were off jaunting across Europe."
"We stuck to the suburbs of major cities right here in the US," I defended. I couldn't tell how effective it was. Not enough, since Stan kept going.
"Well good. At least you knew something. Tell me, why are cities a bad idea for Moroi to live in?"
My mouth gaped, but I couldn't come up with an answer.
Stan nodded, then looked out over the class. "Abrams, answer."
"The large, dense population allows for Strigoi kills to be much less noticed. Humans are murdered, raped, and kidnapped every day, so covering it up is easy." Artie pushed his glasses up his nose and gave me an apologetic look. After a car accident when he was eight where he broke his right leg, he had a bad limp since the leg never healed properly. He still attended training sessions and went through the novice program since Figgins didn't know what else to do with him, but after graduation, he'd most likely end up doing something other than guarding.
"Another thing you missed out on," Stan pointed out. "So while you were playing hide-and-seek with the princess, what methods of surveillance did you use?"
"Me-methods?" I stuttered.
I could tell Stan was growing irritated with me. "Carnegie's Quadrant Surveillance Method? Rotational Survey? Any of those ring a bell?"
Again, I shook my head. I could feel tears building in my eyes - what a wonderful first day back, I thought bitterly - but I was steadfast against letting them fall.
"Oh. Right. You missed that as well." He snorted. "Did you even remember to look around when you went outside?"
I bit my lip, shame filling my entire body. "Yes."
"So while you were out, partying it up with your best friend, you've been missing out on important information that you need to know to be even the most adequate of a guardian." Stan shook his head. "You'll be lucky if you manage to catch up enough for the field experience. Get back to your seat."
I didn't look up as I stumbled back to my desk, not wanting to look at Blaine. Talk about embarrassing. Nobody had ever chewed me out so bad like that and it stung.
The rest of my day was marginally better. Whispers and stares followed Brittany and me wherever we went. It turned out the only afternoon class we didn't have together was math, which was just fine by me. Anything beyond simple addition confused the hell out of me.
Fear and despair were all I got when focused on Brittany's emotions. When I chatted with other novices and a handful of Moroi I was on a first-name basis with, she focused straight ahead on a point I couldn't see.
After classes let out, I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the side. I was already breaking my social banishment but after the day I'd had, I didn't care.
"We're leaving."
Brittany pursed her lips together. "Do you . . . are you sure?"
I nodded. "We can do it a second time. It might be a bitch, but I think we could pull it off."
"Kurt. . . ." She looked me up and down. They'd obviously given her time to change her clothes because we'd been forced to shop at thrift stores and the dress she had on looked like it had just come off the rack at Barney's.
"What?"
Biting her lip, she sighed. "I think we should stay. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. You were actually smiling when you talked to your old friends. Don't tell me you want to get rid of that as soon as we got it back."
Had she been wanting to come back? I suddenly found myself reevaluating the situation. She was right. I did truly enjoy the company of my old friends, especially Rachel - for as much of a friend as she could be - and pulling the first escape stunt had been so, so dangerous.
I looked around, putting my hands on my hips. I saw students all around, enjoying the last few hours of darkness before dinner and sunrise hit.
"Okay," I said.
"Really?" Her moods perked upwards and I stored that away to save for later.
"Yeah. We'll stay. But one condition."
Brittany smirked. "Always the exception with you, Kurt."
"You stay away from the other Royals," I continued, acknowledging what she said.
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
She sputtered. "Because! I have to start networking with them and-and I'm already the head of my family. I can't just throw my future away like that!"
I exhaled slowly.
"I'm sorry, Kurt, but before-"
"Andre was able to do that. But he's dead now, isn't he?" I spat.
A look of hurt crossed her features. "You can be a real bitch, you know that?"
"I know I'm like a teddy bear compared to those other Royals." I fixed her with a serious look.
It was true. Royal Moroi were a special kind of people who could create better drama than a soap opera. They backstabbed each other and bribed their allies in their sleep. It was crazy. Before her brother, Andre, had died, he'd been the one to mingle with those in his class placing. Brittany was forced to take on that role since then; I enjoyed the perks of partying and getting their approval by being something of a daredevil without navigating the messy politics. It had also taken its toll on her, which was why I held up my reluctance to let her go join that world again.
"Fine. I'll just take the middle road or something," Brittany relented. "Happy?"
"Not at all."
I whipped around to find Blaine standing a few feet behind me.
"You're late."
That was directed to me and I knew it. I hoped Blaine wouldn't report me as I turned back around to finish my conversation.
"I think that'll be okay. We'll see how it goes. One wrong thing, though. . . ."
"Go serve your detention," Brittany said, smiling. She playfully shoved my shoulder and left with a quick goodbye.
Silently, Blaine turned around and I had to sprint a little bit to catch up with his fast stride. I opened my mouth to say something witty and biting about interrupting a very important conversation when I felt the familiar tug.
It was vain to fight against it. I found myself in the campus' church, which sat at the head of the quad. Brittany wasn't off to pray, though. She ducked through a side staircase and went up to an attic room I hadn't known existed. Then again, I was a pretty strong atheist myself, so it made sense.
She curled up in the window seat, trying to even out her breathing. Over and over she repeated to herself that I would take care of everything, that nothing bad would happen.
"I have a thing about sharing. Thought you should know."
Brittany jumped at the voice. "Who's there?" she asked, her own voice shaky with fear.
Out of the shadows stepped Santana Lopez. I realized that among the long list of things I had forgotten, Santana was right at the top. Brittany had, too. She was a hardass with a sense of sarcasm to rival mine and terrified everyone. Her father had been a Royal, an Ozera, but her mother had been a non-Royal, which must have been where she got her vaguely Latina-looking features.
"Oh." Brittany straightened up. "It's you."
Santana snorted. "I won't bite you."
"I don't care about that," Brittany snapped.
One thing was drilled into us from an early age: Moroi were alive; Strigoi were undead. Moroi were born; Strigoi were made.
Strigoi could only be made in two different ways: Moroi could kill someone during a feeding, lured into the dark world by the immortality or a Strigoi could do it by force to any Moroi, dhampir, or human with a single bite.
Santana's parents had fallen victim to the lure. They'd been Strigoi.