Chapter 12

Kurt's first impulse after his talk with Finn was to get away. His second impulse, once he'd entered the school building, was that he wanted Mercedes. Just that... it would be nice if she was there. But take it easy, it was just as well that she wasn't. She'd hug him or something, and right now her arms around him would only make him fall apart.

Look at him, his legs were shaking.

Kurt slowed down, coming to a gradual standstill. He stepped to the side to get out of the way of passing students and leaned his back against the wall. Did his best too look like he wasn't having some kind of personal crisis. Along the opposite wall was a row of windows, shining golden light in his face. He had to squint his eyes.

A trio of freshmen kids was talking close by, a mellow, soothing conversation that seemed totally cut off from the bustle around them. Gentle laughter, still and pleasant. Kurt noticed that all the students around him were younger than he'd first assumed. He hardly recognized anyone at all. Huh. That's what he got for skipping classes - he got to feel like a stranger at his own school, tetherless and alone.

He wondered if Puck and Rachel were still in the music room where he'd left them.

He wondered if he should stay away from Puck from now on - and then he wanted to slap himself for letting Finn get to him like that. Get through to him like that. No. That wasn't right. He didn't even know anymore, and, and okay, that was some talk he'd had with his maybe step brother. He was all shaken up.

Bright side. Kurt smiled grimly. At least Finn no longer seemed to operate under the impression that Kurt was still hung up on him. No, no, according to Finn, Kurt had moved on. Moved on to darker, more tread-upon pathways. Snark. Puck. Right.

Puck who was undeniably good looking with his striking face, incredible body, all that. But no, just no. Kurt could hardly look Puck in the eyes, and that was the truth. Too much baggage, too much to let go all at once. Although, if Puck continued to surprise him... well, he might stop being surprised. He might even start to accept Puck as a decent human being, someone who wasn't likely to end up in the prison system. Wouldn't that be a lark?

In a way, Kurt couldn't blame Finn for jumping to conclusions. To be honest, it was even... um. It was sort of flattering, actually. In a way. That Finn seemed to think it was even possible for Kurt to be like an ordinary normal boy teenager with normal boy ordinary crushes and impulses and dating. It was... legitimizing, being taken for somebody likely to sing a duet, flirt, start kissing, hooking up. Like he was one of the guys. Or girls, whatever. Had all the girls in glee dated Puck? Point being, it was like Kurt was normal, even if it was only second hand vicariously through the detour of Finn's head.

Except, no.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. Come on, there was nothing flattering about it. It was just Finn, jumping to conclusions. Or rather, it was Finn saying that everybody else would be jumping to conclusions. Right. Bravo, Finn. Like that was news. Kurt knew how people tended to speculate, how they made a big deal out of his face, his glance, his smile, the freaking fingerless gloves on his freaking hands (and hadn't that prompted a big and unexpected bout of lurid speculation? Why his gloves of all things?) No rules or reason, just talk about how he sat and how he walked and how he wanted it, how he was bound to like it. The way they'd just look at him and think sex.

Maybe Finn had a point. Maybe he shouldn't be singing with Puck.

Aren't you at least a little bit worried?

Well, you know. Now he was.

Over one song behind closed doors in glee. One song that wasn't even slightly romantic. It was moronic, but apparently that didn't matter. He wore fingerless gloves and somehow that equaled... oral sex. Yuck.

Meanwhile, Kurt was so behind the curve. He never even looked at porn. He never - and this might sound kind of strange - but he never even masturbated. Well, he had, he did, he... arghh. Not on purpose. He'd wake up sometimes from those dreams, those wonderfully charging, tingling dreams. And still dreaming, careless and floating - sensuous. He'd... make love to himself. Is what he'd call it if he needed words, one hand on his mouth, breathing and abstract and still half dreaming. Sometimes falling back to sleep between one breath and the next.

And every so often he did lay in bed and think that yes, it might have been nice to have someone to share it with, to make out with and kiss and tangle. Boyfriend. Not Finn though. Please. And not Puck, for the sake of everything holy. He'd break it, like porn would break it, that fragile, fleeting dream.

Kurt was okay with waiting for love. He was. Even though it felt lonely, even though it hardly looked good, did it, being without a boyfriend, no one to kiss, no one to walk down the hallway holding his hand. Always alone. Like no one wanted him, like he was this unwanted thing.

Dammit.

And ye-es, Kurt had known all along, alright. Let's just go ahead and admit that right now, since he was being all honest and introspective. On some not very deep level he'd had to have know that Finn hadn't been interested in dating him. Finn had never needed to spell it out. And still Kurt had kept at it. Chasing Finn. Kind of like Rachel, except Rachel was a girl and he'd chosen her in the end. Might have even chosen her long before the end. So not the same after all.

No, he wasn't envious of Rachel getting Finn, but he was envious about how easy it had seemed for her. Like a flip of a switch, and suddenly they were boyfriend and girlfriend, kissing between classes, smiling all over the place. Instantly recognized as a couple by everyone around. It would never be that simple for Kurt. He didn't fit. Reject.

Hello-o. They'd tossed him into the dumpsters like garbage.

Of all the things dredged up between him and Finn, all the messy things, that one struck him as the least troublesome. They'd tossed him into the dumpsters like garbage. It was wrong - black and white. Easy. Everyone could see it, if you said it out loud. Kurt wished he'd kept going, that he'd told Finn something, something like, Guess what, almost-stepbrother of mine? There was a rat in the dumpsters this morning. Yeah, and one of the bags was broken, hate it when that happens. I mean, there's always some amount of disgusting involved - the lip of the dumpster is never clean, let me tell you, but this morning what a mess. Stank to high heaven. But don't worry, like I would let something like that bring me down. What's that? Really, you're sorry? I don't see why. You weren't there. You didn't even know it was still going on. Or did you? I was never clear about that. Well, never mind. Tomorrow is another day. Another day for you to pretend that you didn't know it was happening.

Oh no. That wasn't passive aggressive at all.

Here's a thought, maybe he should try not to focus so much on Finn, or on Finn's guilt, and instead-

Hang on.

Kurt's eyes darted to the side, instantly alert. Sightings in his peripheral vision, setting off bells of alarm. Oh look, think of the devil. It was one of the guys from this morning, the rat encounter. Tweedledumb. Tommy. He of the buzz cut and the appealing baby voice. Ugly leather jacket. Thankfully not Karofsky as Kurt had initially thought, but from the way the kids in the corridor jumped out of Tommy's way, it sure seemed like he was aspiring to be just like him.

Kurt could see when the bully caught sight of him, could see the stupid bully-type smile on the guy's face, the humorless, scornful smirk of someone who thought Kurt was easy. An easy target. Weak, powerless, deserving of ridicule.

Well. Tommy was wrong about that.

Kurt slowly straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall. He met the guy's eyes. He felt relaxed, ready. And why not? Tommy wasn't that much larger than Kurt, and whatever he might do, be it words or deeds, Kurt was confident he could take it.

(Don't tell anyone, but there was this new game he'd been wanting to play ever since he'd come back to school after this summer, older and suddenly not shorter than almost everybody else. He'd fantasized about it. How he'd encounter some random bully - not Karofsky - just some random guy without his buddies around. How the guy would try to push him, shove him around, and Kurt, rather than shrink out of the way would plant his feet to meet it, force with near equal opposite force. Ha-ha! Wouldn't see that coming, would they? Yeah. Kurt probably shouldn't take such pleasure from basic, brutish posturing, but honestly? Those additional inches he'd gained over the summer were soo satisfying. And not just because of how they made his clothes fit.)

Tommy seemed to notice Kurt's resolve. A surprised look, a flicker of uncertainty, but he didn't slow down or change course. When he reached Kurt, he was angry and belligerent right off the bat, almost as if he was making up for the brief moment of indecision.

"What're you looking at?" Tommy said, voice raised, wanting the people around them to hear. "Fucking keep your eyes to yourself."

Trite. So trite, Kurt wasn't sure if he should be amused or not. He settled for crossing his arms with a look of boredom on his face (secret of acting, he had to feel bored for it to really work. It helped that Tommy was being so incredibly trite).

"Hello, Tommy," Kurt said. Drawled boredly, whatever. "Did you want something, or did you come over just to be a mindless brute?"

Tommy gave a single, dismissive grunt.

"Thought so," Kurt said. "I'd hate to burst your bubble, but I haven't actually done anything wrong. I'm just standing here, minding my own business. You however, are skirting a very fine line. Keep it up, and you'll be expelled before Christmas."

"What the fuck?" Tommy seemed baffled. He glanced to the sides, looking for someone to share his confusion.

What? Had he expected Kurt to say nothing, just stand there and take it? Was Tommy that blind to his own actions?

"This morning you raised your fist and threatened to hit me," Kurt said. "You and the other goons carried me behind a dumpster against my will. You restrained me, you put your hands on me. Not to mention you threw me into the dumpster like garbage. Reality check, bozo. That constitutes assault."

"You-"

"I know what you're thinking." Kurt took a step closer. Forget being bored, he was so right. "You're thinking, oh it's just a dumpster toss, it's nothing, happens every day. Well, I'm here to tell you, what you participated in this morning was a botched up travesty of a dumpster toss. You were considering stealing my boots! What's next? Broken arms? Are you going to start pounding on so-called dweebs between classes? Are you going to-"

Okay, there was the expected shove. To be fair, well, Kurt might have had that coming. A little bit. Somehow he'd been getting way up in Tommy's face, forcing the other boy to back away. And now they were standing in the middle of the hallway, facing off.

They had gathered an audience. A rough circle had formed around them. Behind Tommy was the trio of freshmen Kurt had noticed earlier - two girls and a curly-haired boy, all three looking pale and scared. And so young. Further down the hall stood a tall, skinny girl. Kurt didn't know her name, but he'd seen her around (he'd always noticed her because she reminded him of Tyra Banks in her high school years. A whiter, less pretty version of Tyra Banks, thin and somewhat alien-looking. She probably got teased a lot, but then so had Tyra.) She had a pen pressed to her lips, her head tilted. She met Kurt's eyes and smiled, a slow smile bisected by the pen. Tacit approval from Tyra Banks.

Yeah. Kurt had the distinct impression that no one around them was siding with the bully. Tommy was outnumbered, and he seemed well aware of the fact. He looked... worried? Perplexed? His blue eyes were wide open.

Taking his time, Kurt made a point of brushing at his shoulders where Tommy's hands had touched him, getting rid of wrinkles and invisible dirt.

"You pushed me," he said, calm and easy.

"No, I didn't." Tommy shook his head. "You were in my way."

A susurration from the onlookers at the obvious lie.

"Uh-huh." Kurt rolled his eyes. "What an excellent excuse, not at all unoriginal, I've certainly never heard it before. No, wait..."

Nervous laughter from some of the onlookers, particularly from the boy with the curly hair. Tommy spun around and the freshmen trio pulled back, looking scared. Kurt found himself taking a step closer, hands outreached to - he wasn't sure what. Restrain the guy before he attacked them? However, Tommy seemed satisfied by their show of submission. He turned around to face Kurt - made a sound of displeasure when he found Kurt standing much closer than he'd expected. Kurt didn't budge. He blinked slowly, giving Tommy a look of placid disregard.

"Stay away from me, fairy," Tommy snapped, backing away.

Kurt raised his chin and smiled.

"Fairy?" he repeated, his voice soft. "That's nice. Real classy. Odds are, all of your friends will leave you and you'll end up dying alone, because no one likes a bully. This is your wake up call. Take responsibility for your life. Stop being a bully."

"You don't know fuck," Tommy said, his eyes darting around. Definitely rattled.

Kurt took his time (lazy lazy bored), before he deliberately moved out of Tommy's way. The message ought to be clear: Go away, keep on walking. No one wants you. Leave.

Tommy's face turned bright red. Not from anger, Kurt realized, but from blushing. Honest-to-God blushing. Tommy's mouth twisted like he was tasting something bad, and then he abruptly took off, back stiff and walk robot-like. His neck too was bright red.

Kurt stared after the guy, watched him disappear behind a bend in the corridor. The people around him were turning away, returning to normal, entertainment over, end scene.

Kurt felt winded.

That... that had gone by very quickly, but it had happened pretty much exactly the way he'd imagined it would. The way he'd fantasized it would. He'd stood his ground, making the bully back down. He should be pleased. He should feel about ten feet tall.

Shouldn't he?

He didn't. He felt sinking, felt small. Fear, guilt. It had happened so quickly, and somehow he'd messed up. Took it too far. Come off as overreacting, making a big scene. Not in control at all, but unthinking autopilot. What had he said? It was the "dying alone" bit. Kurt shouldn't have said that. It was mean and dull, not witty at all. Think about it, he'd met this guy Tommy all of two times, and still he was judging his entire life. Kurt didn't... like it.

Damn his tender conscience.

Teenage Tyra was still standing there, tall and straight like a candle. She wasn't smiling anymore. She'd probably seen it, noticed how he'd messed up. She didn't say anything, just gave Kurt a solemn nod before she left, walked past him - such a thin girl. He wished... he wasn't sure. He wished she could have stayed with him, his witness.

She could have absolved him.

Was that nuts?

He missed Mercedes.

Kurt turned around, and startled. It was the boy with the curly hair, the one who'd laughed, one girl on each side of him, completing the trio. They were staring at Kurt with excitement on their faces. One of the girls had dark hair and wide-rimmed glasses, the other a round face and pigtails, making her look much younger than her actual age of 14-15 years. They seemed to take Kurt noting their presence as permission to approach, and they did, tentative little steps towards him, crowding him with their soft, eager presence.

"That was... wow," the girl with the pigtails said. "Can I just say I loved how you put Tommy in his place. When you called him a bully and he had no idea what to say - it was perfect. Amazing."

"Really?" Kurt asked. "I... You don't think I was too harsh?"

Argh. Why was he fishing for reassurance from this little group of eager strangers?

"Pfh," the girl with the glasses huffed. "No. He started it. Besides, you were telling the truth, weren't you?"

"The truth is your defense!" the curly-haired boy said, affected a booming voice. Quoting from some movie, was Kurt's guess.

"Always tell the truth," pigtail-girl piped up, smiling and nodding, her hair bobbing.

"I think it was exactly what he needed to hear," the other girl said, turning thoughtful. She was the tallest in the trio, and her nose was slightly crooked. Still pretty, though. "People sometimes need to be hit over the head with a taste of harsh reality to make them think about what they're doing. It could be a wake up call, like you said."

"Thanks," Kurt said. He was reassured, in spite of himself. Maybe he hadn't messed up. Maybe. Time would tell.

"I'm Sophia," the taller girl introduced herself. "And this is Tinsley and Benjamin. Benji."

"Kurt."

There was giggles and laughter, since apparently he should have known that they already knew that. Huh. Still, he nodded politely and repeated each of their names, taken aback by how his attention made them preen. Like Kurt was this famous person. Strange.

No one said anything for a bit. Then the boy - Benji - took a step forward, looking nervous. He spoke in a hushed voice.

"What about the... other stuff you said?" There was an intense, damp look in his eyes, and his friends turned bleak and silent, one second flat. "Did... did they really throw you into the dumpsters?"

Kurt nodded vaguely. "104 times, including this morning."

This morning. The travesty of a dumpster toss. Yeah, that's right, travesty. Tommy deserved his fair share of shame.

"104 times," the boy repeated in a strained whisper. "Really?"

Kurt's mouth fell open, but he couldn't find anything to say. Yeah. Oopsie. He'd spilled the beans, the beans were spilled, and so easily too. Like, hey, some people get tossed into the dumpsters like garbage, and I'm one of them. It happened 104 times. That's totally normal information.

Why so easy, after keeping it hidden for so long?

Because he had. Hidden it. He'd climb out of the dumpster, timing it so no one would see. He'd go to the bathroom afterwards to wash away all traces, check his face in the mirror, never saying anything to anyone, not even Mercedes. Even when she asked, he'd lied. Are you alright? Did someone try something? No, nothing. Nothing important.

Everybody knew that dumpster tosses weren't supposed to be important. It was this thing. Routine, jovial almost, same jokes, same careful one two three. They'd never really tried to injure, and Kurt had trusted that. Mostly. Mostly trusted that. He'd taken pride in not losing his cool. The good little toss-e, taking it with class, sassing off, telling himself it wasn't anything to get worked up about. After all, a safe and ritualized trip to the dumpster was much better than the alternatives, all the what-might-happens if he put up a fuss. Much easier just to stick with what worked. Less risky.

Well. It wasn't working anymore.

This morning there'd been a rat in the dumpster, and he'd gotten no, no respect, no saved up credit, not a bit of consideration for all the times he'd behaved. Let's skip it this time, guys. Nuh-huh. They'd just wanted to humiliate him, by force if necessary.

It had never been just nothing.

"It happened to me once." Benji was whispering. "Since then, I always stick close to someone else after I get off the bus. I don't want them to catch me alone ever again."

The girls pressed close on either side of him. A gloomy three-way huddle of affection.

"I had no idea that it was going on," Tinsley, the short girl, said. "Now I can't stop seeing them, just hanging around. Waiting. Like wolves. It's creepy."

"Exactly," Sophia nodded. "They'd never even talked to Benji before, and then out of nowhere - wham. Wolves."

"It's wrong!" Tinsley shook her small fist. "We've got to do something."

Benji was staring right at Kurt. "It never stopped?" he asked. "They just kept... a hundred...?"

104 times. That did seem like a lot.

It was a guess, alright? Kurt hadn't actually kept count. Of course not, that would have forced him to think about it.

"I told principal Figgins, the second time it happened," he felt compelled to point out. There, see. Kurt had tried, he'd put up an effort. He wasn't completely stupid, of course not.

"What did he say?" Benji asked.

"Not much." Kurt shrugged, tense. Bah.

Mr. Figgins had said, had said with his Indian accent: "the whole foot ball team? I find that hard to believe."

Had said, "is that what you were wearing?"

So no, it probably hadn't been the whole team, Kurt might have been wrong about that. And he might have been wearing a pair of pink form fitting jeans, is what he'd been wearing, yes. Not that it made much of a difference, but there you are.

"Does Mr. Figgins know that it's still going on?" Benji looked hopeful. "Maybe I should tell him. Report it. If... if no one knew it was me. Or..."

"Someone should sue the school," Sophia interrupted, angry. "People could get hurt! They could bump their head, or have an asthma attack. Or develop mental issues. It's serious."

"I'm going to talk to Mr. Figgins," Benji said, his back straightening. Brave-little-guy look on his face.

"Me too," Sophia said, no hesitation.

"And me." The other girl leaned her head against Benji's shoulder.

Kurt was silent. Listening to those kids was kind of messing with his head. Here they were, upset and indignant and wanting to do something. It was... it didn't fit. Benji, with his brown eyes and inconspicuous smile and baggy cargo pants. Probably the only reason he'd been picked was that he'd been alone. If it happened again Benji might bump his head or get an asthma attack. And the thing that really messed with Kurt's head was that it might have been unnecessary. All of it.

104 times. When had he learned to accept it?

"Me too," Kurt said. "I'll talk to the principal, give it another try." He felt as fragile as glass.

"That's great!" Benji said, bouncing with excitement. The girls chimed in with their agreement, all of them grinning. Bouncing and grinning.

"Yeah," Kurt breathed. He smiled back, infected by their enthusiasm. Maybe. Maybe it was great.

After that, the trio took their leave with smiles and goodbyes and looks of appreciation, admiration, even. So, so strange. Kurt watched them walk off together. They were glancing back at Kurt and bouncing into each other, walking so close. It was nice how easy they were together. Not in a couple-y kind of way, but easy and solid. Childhood friends, was Kurt's guess.

He wouldn't let them down.

Seriously. It wasn't on Kurt to tackle every single moron who wanted to keep the stupid practice going. It was on the school. The dumpster tosses really were a lawsuit waiting to happen, and the school had a vested interest in making it stop. And they had the power to make that happen. They could forbid students from tossing other students into the dumpsters. There could be detention, suspension, and the calling of parents for anyone who broke that rule. And that could be it for the dumpster tosses.

Sure, the most persistent of the Neanderthals would undoubtedly move on to something equally obnoxious, but for kids like Benji it might make all the difference. And yeah, okay, for Kurt as well. He could live without the stink of dumpsters in his nostrils, could live without leftovers sticking to his hands.

And get this, perfect timing, his dad might not even have to get involved.

Kurt might never again have to pretend that it didn't happen. Load off his back.

Kurt. How was your day? Fine, dad. We're doing a mashup in glee. Got an A on the History exam. I'm meeting Mercedes later for a blah di blah blah... and so on and so forth. All the positive, rarely anything about the negative. Certainly not anything about Kurt starting his day in the dumpster, even thought he knew full well that his dad would have found that important. Telling his dad that it wasn't that big a deal, it was just a dumpster toss... yeah, right. That would have gone over so well.

Anyway, Kurt would talk to principal Figgins. As in, he would do it right now. Now, do it now. Before he changed his mind.

Like an echo, he heard a voice in his head. Ted Neeley, singing in the unsurpassed 1973 movie performance: Bleed me, beat me, kill me. Do it now. Before I change my mind.

Hah. Jesus Christ Superstar. His mother had loved that movie. They'd loved it together. Slightly incongruous that is was about Jesus, but on the other hand, not really. The musical was there for anyone to appreciate. Astonishing to contemplate that Andrew Lloyd Webber and whatever-the-other-guy had barely been into their twenties when they'd penned such a relatable masterpiece. Not that it had anything to do with Kurt's situation. It was just a bit of associative memory, snippets of lyrics popping into his head.

Kurt felt like he was walking on air all his way to the principal's office. No one could stop him now. He'd do this thing, he'd get it right this time.

His dad was coming home next week. How's that for a motivation to get this mess cleaned up once and for all?