Chapter 19: Courage

Blaine was spread out on some cushions on the floor of Kurt's living room. After some very stern warnings, Burt and Carole had left their sons alone for the week while they enjoyed a well-deserved honeymoon in Hawaii. Blaine had conveniently failed to mention that Kurt was without adult supervision to his parents and it hadn't come up.

Rachel's dads, it became clear, were fully aware that no one was looking in on them and had no problem with it. "They are very sex positive so they just handed me some condoms and sent me on my way." As if to prove her point, Rachel dropped a strip of foil packets onto the coffee table.

"Christ, Rachel!" Kurt yelped. "Just how much sex do they think you are going to be having this weekend. This is what…ten condoms?"

"Better safe than sorry," she said with a shrug. Finn eyed the pile of prophylactics with apprehension, as if they might come to life and start slithering across the table towards him.

Blaine couldn't help making eye contact with Kurt, who seemed desperate to look anywhere but at the offending items. Kurt, always so quick to blush, was already approaching the complexion of a well-boiled lobster. Blaine wanted to comfort him somehow, but he wasn't sure how to do it without triggering Kurt's embarrassment further.

The pile of condoms seemed to be taunting them, a stark reminder that they had a whole house to themselves and could be getting up to all sorts of things. A bunch of teenagers, teenagers in serious relationships, unsupervised; it almost felt like they were supposed to do something scandalous.

Rachel picked up the string of condoms and ripped a few off, holding them out towards Kurt. "Do you guys want some?" Poor Kurt. His eyes grew wide and his face was flushed. For once, it was Blaine who jumped in to handle an awkward moment.

"We are, uh, wwwwaiting until the right t-t-time." It seemed like a safe answer and better than the truth which was that they hadn't really talked about it.

Rachel smiled gratefully at Blaine. "Yeah, us too."

Kurt and Blaine had only been dating for about a month and so far they were keeping things very PG, which was more than fine with Blaine. He had gotten the general vibe that Kurt was probably into taking things slow. Given his history, Blaine was determined to be overly cautious about not putting any pressure on him. He had assumed that Kurt would bring it up when he was ready and Blaine was content to wait.

But seeing Kurt's utter mortification when Rachel had pulled out those condoms had Blaine wondering if he was going to end up having to broach the topic first. Well, that's shaping up to be the awkwardest conversation of the century.

"So, are you boys all wedding'ed out or should we keep the party going with some on theme movies? It looks like you guys have 'The Wedding Singer' and 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' on DVD. What do you think?" Rachel held up her choices.

"I never thought I would say this, but I think I'm all wedding'ed out," Kurt admitted.

"Oh, hey, speaking of weddings, I forgot to ask. Who was that cute kid dancing with Blaine?" Finn asked Kurt. "You don't have a secret daughter I need to know about, right?"

If Kurt was her dad he would have been six when she was born. Finn does know how math works, right?

"No, that was my cousin Tessa. She's the daughter of my mom's sister."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, I was pretty sure Burt didn't have any siblings so that makes sense. So does that make her my like, step-cousin? I don't really get how all this step stuff works."

"Probably, if they don't disown me first." Kurt let out a gloomy sigh.

"Oh my god, Kurt! What happened?" asked Rachel in alarm.

"She thinks I'm some kind of bad influence on Tessa now. She said it would be 'confusing' for Tessa if she knows that Blaine is my boyfriend."

Blaine rubbed soothing circles on Kurt's back, trying to help him feel better. He was so proud of how Kurt had stood up to her.

"That's bullshit," said Finn defiantly.

Kurt looked pleasantly surprised. "Thanks, Finn."

"We're bros now, Kurt. I've got your back."

Blaine found the moment between Finn and Kurt to be quite touching. It was good to be reminded that they had so many people who loved and supported them, especially after experiencing rejection.

What Blaine really needed was a good distraction for Kurt, something that would cheer him up and get him laughing. Blaine's eyes caught a silver glint from the coffee table. He had an idea.

Blaine reached from the condoms on the table and started opening one of them.

Finn covered his eyes. "Woah, dude, if you guys want privacy that's cool. Just give us a chance to vacate the premises, first."

Blaine laughed as he pulled out the condom. "No, n-no." He unrolled the latex and pressed the elasticated ring to his lips, blowing into it. The latex began to inflate as he filled it with air. When he had gotten it about as big as he thought it would go without popping, he pinched the end, twisted it, and tied it off with a knot.

"I f-f-found a better use for these."

"I want one!" called out Rachel. Blaine ripped open another packet and soon she had her own enormous latex protuberance.

"En garde," said Blaine, brandishing his condom balloon like a sword. Rachel played along while Kurt and Finn rolled on the floor in fits of laughter.

Rachel switched the condom balloon to her other hand. "Haha! I am not left-handed!"

Blaine followed along and switched his sword to the other hand as well. "I am n-n-not left-handed either."

The mock fencing match degenerated into Rachel and Blaine poking their respective boyfriends in the bellies with their lewd balloon creations.

See, Kurt. Not so scary after all.

"I know what we are going to do!" Kurt declared with excitement. Blaine was glad to see the light had returned to his eyes. "We are going to make enough of these to go around, we are going to pop in The Princess Bride, and we are going to act out all of the fight scenes with these."

"I'll make popcorn!" Finn offered, heading towards the kitchen. Rachel started blowing up another condom, stopping a few times to calm her giggles.

Kurt hugged Blaine's arm and squeezed it to his chest. "Thank you, Blaine. You always come up with the weirdest and most wonderful ways to cheer me up."

"Guys, if Puck asks what we did this weekend can we all just lie and tell him we had an orgy? We're never going to live it down if he finds out all we did was watch a PG rated movie." Finn had a point.

"Works for me," said Kurt as he set up the DVD player. They all got cozy on the couch with blankets, popcorn, and condom balloons.

Blaine thought it was just about the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

It turned out to be the perfect beginning to an absolutely awful week.

—

"In the society that George Orwell imagined in '1984,' not only behaviors could be criminal but thoughts could as well. But can our thoughts be controlled?" Mr. Sinclair asked.

Maybe with brainwashing and torture, but just regular people? No, I don't think anyone has that level of control.

Becky Jackson raised her hand and said, "No way, Mr. S!"

"Thank you for sharing, Becky."

At least Mr. Sinclair is nice to Becky, even if he's one of the meanest teachers at McKinley. She's lucky, at least everyone can see that she has a disability.

Blaine's head jerked up as he realized the words he was thinking.

Wow, Blaine, that was fucked up. Did you really just think that someone with Down's syndrome is luckier than you? What you deal with is nothing compared to her. We both have speech disorders, but she has so much other stuff to deal with on top of that. Good thing there's no actual thought police or I would be arrested so fast.

"Anyone else?" A few predictable hands went up, the same five or six students who always contributed to classroom discussion. "Anyone we haven't already heard from? There are a lot of voices in this room that aren't contributing." Mr. Sinclair made meaningful eye contact with Blaine and a few other students.

Shit.

"What about the morality of policing thought? What are the arguments for and against it? Surely everyone can rustle up some kind of opinion about that. It's a meaty moral quandary! Perhaps…" he trailed off, scanning the room for a target.

Blaine slunk down in his chair, as if Mr. Sinclair might overlook him if he just made his body small enough.

"…Jessica has an opinion." Phew.

"Oh, well bad thoughts can lead to, like, bad behavior, right? So if we can stop bad thoughts, then we could, like, stop crimes before they happen."

"Thank you for sharing your perspective, Jessica. I hope we can hear more from you in the future. What about you, Blaine?"

Shit, shit, shit.

Blaine re-adjusted his posture, sitting up straight. There was no point trying to hide now that he was in the spotlight. He took several deep breaths, trying to notice points of muscle tension in his body and relax them, the way that he had been practicing with Ms. Shine.

He could feel the tension in his neck and focused on relaxing the muscles. If he could just get them relaxed enough, he probably wouldn't block when he started speaking. It was tricky though, because he couldn't actually feel his vocal cords. The best he could do was focus on relaxing the muscles in the surrounding area and hope that it would translate.

Ms. Shine had explained that his vocal cords were actually muscles. He had always sort of imagined them like harp strings that were plucked to produce sound, but when she showed him anatomical drawings he saw that his mental image was way off.

"Mr. Anderson, we don't have all day," said Mr. Sinclair impatiently. A few students giggled.

Asshole.

"Yes, well, I disagree. Our thoughts…are private. Sometimes thoughts…are where we regulate…behavior. We blow off steam…in our thoughts…so we don't do or say…the wrong thing."

Hah! Stutter free is the way to be! Blaine was proud of himself for how well he had been able to use his strategies. He had a lot more he could have said, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep this fluent streak going. Better to stop while he was ahead.

Mr. Sinclair would probably think my comparison to 'Minority Report' is stupid, anyways.

—

After English, Blaine had to stop at his locker to switch out some of his books. He was relieved that he had made it through the class relatively unscathed and he was really looking forward to seeing Kurt in Chemistry. He had slept through his alarm that morning so he had missed their usual time to check in before school.

Blaine was very confused when he turned away from his locker to see Jessica, the other student who had been picked on by Mr. Sinclair. They really didn't know each other; Blaine wasn't sure if they had ever even spoken to one another.

When Blaine had first been new to McKinley, different people had tried to talk to him. It hadn't lasted long. Either the intrigue about a new student wore off or people noticed that Blaine wasn't very talkative. Either way, people mostly left him alone now. That was how Blaine liked it because then he didn't have to navigate surprise conversations with people he didn't feel comfortable with. Like this one that was happening to him now.

Jessica greeted him cheerfully, as if they were old pals.

"Hi, Blaine! Can you believe how Mr. Sinclair just cold-called on us like that? Ru-ude. What you said was cool, though. It made me wonder about all the naughty thoughts going on in that brain of yours, while you're 'blowing off steam.'"

Blaine was so shocked that he choked on his own spit. Somehow the way she said 'blowing off steam' made it sound way dirtier than Blaine had remembered it.

"I was…just thinking…Mr. Sinclair is…kind of an asshole," he deflected. He was pleased that he had effectively used his strategies to get through his response. I'm on a role!

"Wow, same! I wonder what else we have in common. What do you say? You, me, Breadstix, Friday night, say 7pm? We could find out what else we have in common." She waggled her eyebrows at him.

Holy shit, she is coming on strong. I need to say something to make it clear that she needs to back off without hurting her feelings.

"Nah, I'm bu-busy."

Shit, I stuttered. Now she is going to tell everyone and all her cool popular friends are going to start making fun of me.

"Playing hard to get, I see. I can dig it. You've got that quiet mysterious vibe going, Blaine, and I am into it. See you later." She gave him a flirty wave and then glided off down the hallway.

Blaine let out a deep sigh and banged the back of his head against the lockers several times in frustration. Quiet mysterious vibe? Try stutters and, oh yeah, definitely gay. Why am I so bad at this today? Usually I know what to say in this type of situation.

—

Blaine was still in a sour mood by the time he made it to Chemistry.

"What's eating you?" Kurt asked.

Blaine sighed. Talking to Kurt was easier than talking to most people but right now he felt drained after dealing with Mr. Sinclair and then Jessica.

"Can we j-j-just not talk for like five min-min-minutes?" he pleaded.

Kurt looked like someone had slapped him. His lips pressed into a tight line, his eyebrows scrunched together, and his entire body leaned back slightly.

Shit, shit, shit. I can't do anything right this morning. Now you've hurt Kurt's feelings, the person you actually care deeply about, because you used up all your energy trying not to hurt the feelings of stupid Jessica who doesn't matter.

Blaine groaned in frustration. "K-Kurt, sweetheart, n-n-no, I'm sorry! I didn't mmmean it like —that."

Kurt crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Then what did you mean? Because it sounded like you were sick of me after I haven't even seen you today." Blaine could hear the hurt underneath his bitter tone. He hated knowing that he had been the cause of it.

Blaine reached for Kurt underneath the lab table, taking his hand and stroking his thumb across Kurt's knuckles. He could see Kurt start to visibly relax.

"It wa-wa-wasn't about you. It's ju-ju-ju-ju-just been a long morning…with a lot of…ssstressful sp-speaking situations. I wanted a —break." Blaine hoped that Kurt would understand his explanation.

It wasn't that he didn't want to talk with Kurt, it was just that he didn't feel like he needed to talk when he was with Kurt. Now that they were together, he could finally relax and let his guard down. Kurt was his safe place.

Tell him that.

"I f-f-feel—I feel safe with y-you."

Kurt's face softened immediately.

"Aw, Blaine! I feel safe with you too. I always have, since we first became friends." Kurt squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry I made it about me. I guess I just…I felt rejected but it was stupid. If the world is pressuring you to talk, then I want to be your space place where you can take a break from all of that. So if that's what you need right now, then that's what I'll be."

If they hadn't been in the middle of class, Blaine would have grabbed Kurt and kissed him senseless. Since they were, he gave him a long look that he hoped conveyed at least some of what he was feeling. Given how big Kurt was smiling, he was pretty sure he had been successful.

He wanted to tell Kurt that his feelings weren't stupid. That he was allowed to feel hurt even if Blaine didn't mean to hurt him. He wanted to tell him that he didn't expect Kurt to read his mind. He wanted to promise that he would get better at communicating.

But he would have to say all of those things later, because right now he was going to just relax and be in his safe place.

—

When it was finally time for speech therapy, Blaine was exhausted and ready for the day to be over. He really could have used the gym time to work through some of his anger and frustration from the morning, but he only had this time with Ms. Shine once a week and he knew he should pull himself together and try to get the most out of it.

"How have things been with your speech this week, Blaine?" she asked. It was their usual check-in.

"I gu-gu-guess it's been fine, but…I'm feeling really fru-fru-frustarted with it today."

"I'm interested to hear more about that, if you want to share." Ms. Shine smiled warmly at him, listening without pressure or judgement. I guess Ms. Shine's office is a safe place too.

"I g-g-got cold called on in-in class and then he w-w-was all, 'we don't have all day,' which did not help at all. Then, I hurt my b-b-boyfriend's feelings b-b-by accident. I feel like no-no-nothing I say is right today."

Wow, that sounded even more pathetic out loud. Really, Blaine? Nothing I say is right today? You're such a drama queen.

"It sounds like you're feeling pretty down on yourself today about how you communicate. What were you thinking about when you were telling me all of that?" Ms. Shine asked.

Blaine laughed and then truthfully said, "That I s-s-sound pathetic."

"And do you?" she asked, with a challenging tone in her voice.

"What?"

"Do you sound pathetic? Is that true? If you were listening to someone else say those words, would you think 'that guy sounds pathetic'?" She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for an answer. Ms. Shine only pushed him like this when she was trying to teach him something, so Blaine went along with it.

He imagined if Kurt was the one venting his feelings to Blaine and then saying that he sounded pathetic. You don't sound pathetic, you just sound upset. It's normal to feel upset when you have a bad day.

"N-n-no, I guess not." Blaine admitted.

"Notice how you feel right now, Blaine," Ms. Shine instructed.

I feel…relieved. Calmer.

"That—I think—I think it helped."

"Good." She smiled at him. "I've been meaning to introduce this concept to you anyways, so I'm glad you brought it up. Many people your age who stutter have a lot of negative thoughts about themselves when they are talking. I want to help you become more aware of these negative thoughts and teach you how to use cognitive strategies and positive self-talk to change some of those thoughts."

"Sounds like therapy, Ms. Shine," Blaine teased. She was always very careful to make it clear that she was not a psychotherapist or a social worker. They did end up talking about his feelings sometimes, but it was always about his stuttering so it made sense. She had explained that this type of counseling was part of her job.

"You're not wrong, Blaine. It's actually a type of CBT—that's cognitive behavioral therapy. A therapist might use that to help someone change negative thoughts they have about themselves due to anxiety or depression. We're going to use the same technique to try to change negative thoughts you have about yourself because of your stuttering."

"So…how d-d-does this whole thought —changing thing work?" he asked.

"Great question! We'll make a list of some negative thoughts you have about yourself when you are talking and then we will come up with some positive self-talk you can use to counter it. Let me give you an example. Let's say you had the thought 'I can't talk.' If we stop and examine that thought objectively, we can see that it isn't true. You can talk, you do it all the time. A more true thought might be, 'talking is hard.' I might encourage you to give yourself a little mental pep talk. Remind yourself that you have a lot of skills, that you know a lot of strategies, and also that even when you stutter people really do understand what you say most of the time. That would be the positive self-talk."

Sounds easier said than done.

"You know m-me, I'm —game to try any-anything."

Blaine was ready to crash by the time he made it home. Speech therapy had been good but it was hard work. Today it had left him drained. He barely even said hello to his mother before he collapsed into bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

—

Tomorrow was not better. It was worse.

Apparently, Mr. Sinclair was now on a mission to get every student in the classroom to participate. As far as Blaine was concerned, he was on a mission to make his life a living hell.

"Attention, class! Tonight for homework, you will be finishing '1984.' We will review the key themes of the book for the rest of the week, and then on Monday we will start class presentations. Each of you must pick from a list of topics and give a two to five minute oral presentation."

Blaine felt like Mr. Sinclair was looking straight at him when he added, "No exceptions!" Blaine gulped and he was filled with dread.

Oral presentation? I'm fucked.

Blaine walked to his locker in a daze, his mind racing with ways to get out of this assignment. What if I just stay home sick that day? I could pretend to lose my voice. I could do something bad enough to get suspended. He sighed to himself as he shuffled things in and out of his locker. He knew he couldn't do any of those things.

"Hi, Blaine."

He jumped in surprise. She's like a mountain lion. You don't see her until she's pouncing on your back and slashing your throat.

Blaine plastered an insincere smile on his face. "Hi, J-Jessica." Shit, now she is really going to notice my stutter.

He tried to think of something else to say like, 'I have a boyfriend' or 'I'm not mysterious, I just don't want to talk to you.' But by the time he looked up to say one of the lines he had come up with, she was gone again.

Blaine groaned in frustration. Ugh, I was too slow.

Later that day, she walked by with a whole pack of cheerleaders. He saw her looking straight at him, whispering something to her friends that caused them all to erupt in a fit of giggles. Blaine felt so uncomfortable that he wanted to climb out of his skin.

To top it all off, apparently his one day of poor fluency was turning into a whole week of bad speech. Why can't I talk this week?

It took Blaine a moment to realize that he had heard those words just a couple days ago, in Ms. Shine's office. He had caught his first negative thought. Now he was supposed to flip it around or something.

Talking is hard this week but it won't last forever. My strategies are still working.

He walked to his next class feeling just a little bit calmer.

—

When Blaine got to lunch, he laid his head down on the cafeteria table dramatically. "Someone w-w-wake me up with this w-week is over," he moaned.

"Aw, honey, I'm sorry you're having a bad week but I really think you should reconsider putting your face on these tables. They're probably crawling in germs." Kurt shuddered.

"What's wrong, Blaine?" asked Tina.

"Mr. S-Sinclair announced that w-w-we have to do —presentations. P-Partici-ici-ici—fuck—talking is m-mandatory." Blaine slammed his fist down onto the table when he swore, which attracted startled looks not only from his friends but also from the A.V. club students at the next table. Now they all think I have anger management issues too. Just great.

"Maybe you should hit the bag after school today?" Kurt suggested. "That usually helps you work through stuff."

"Thanks, K-Kurt." It was a good suggestion but he could punch the bag until his knuckles bled and he would still have to talk in front of the whole class come Monday. He felt like someone had set him an execution date.

"You should talk to him about it," Tina suggested.

Mr. Sinclair did not seem like the type who would give anyone special treatment or favor special requests.

"L-last time I t-t-talked in class, he j-just told me to hu-hu-hurry up. I don't think he will under-under-understand."

—

It didn't take much probing from his mother before Blaine was spilling the whole story to her. "I b-barely have t-t-time to p-p-practice. Mr. S-S-Sinclair is not understanding about my sp-speech. It's g-g-going to be humiliating."

"Aw, sweetie, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"I don't think he is allowed to do that, Blaine," his father commented calmly.

"Wait, what?" Blaine was confused. He's a teacher. Isn't he allowed to do whatever he wants?

"I don't think he's allowed to force you to give a class presentation. Jasmine, darling, do you remember where we put the copy of Blaine's IEP?"

"I think it's with his other school records, the report cards and such. I'll go find it, dear."

"Why do you want my I-I-IEP?"

"Because there was a whole section for classroom accommodations. I think I remember something about presentations and public speaking in there. That speech therapist of yours was pretty thorough. Let me take a look."

Things were still a little tense since his father's negative reaction to Kurt, but right now Blaine was so grateful his dad was a lawyer who actually read paperwork before he signed it. All he remembered from the IEP meeting was that it meant he could have speech therapy again. The rest of it had seemed procedural.

His mother pulled out the stapled packet that he hadn't thought about since the beginning of the school year and the three of them huddled over it at the kitchen table.

"You would think they could make this thing easier to understand. I don't know what half of these headings even mean!" she complained.

"Oh, hush, look it's right here. 'Accommodations and Modifications.' Ahah, I knew it! Look, Blaine, you're supposed to be getting additional time to respond to questions in class and alternative assignments for oral presentations. I bet Mr. Sinclair didn't even read this!"

"B-But he said no ex-ex-exceptions!" Blaine insisted.

"I don't care what he said. This is a legal document that the school is required to follow. I'll take his ass to due process if he doesn't." Blaine's father looked positively triumphant. Blaine imagined it was the look he got in the courtroom when he revealed the final piece of evidence that clinched the verdict.

"Let's save that as a last resort, dear. So, who should we talk to about this?" his mother asked aloud.

"I-I-I think Ms. Shine. Didn't she sssay she was my —case manager?" Blaine suggested.

"Well then I'm going to e-mail her immediately," his father declared.

—

The next day, Mr. Sinclair asked him to stay behind after class. Blaine gulped nervously but did as he was asked, taking a seat next to Mr. Sinclair's desk. Please don't yell at me because my parents got involved.

"So, I understand that you would like some sort of alternative to the class presentation assignment?"

Blaine nodded without making eye contact.

"Fine. You can write me a paper on one of the topics then, outlining both arguments and counterarguments. I want at least three pages, single-spaced."

That is so much more work. But at least I don't have to talk in front of the class. It will be worth it.

"Thank you."

"And Blaine?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"I read your TGIF or whatever it's called. So that's why you keep getting zeros for participation in my class?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright," he sighed. "Here's what we're going to do. I want you to take notes during classroom discussions and e-mail me your ideas and questions after class. I'll give you full participation points for every day you either speak in class or send me something thoughtful in writing. Does that work for you?"

"I, uh, y-y-yes that would be g-g-great."

"Alright then. Better get to your next class."

In a substantially better mood, Blaine stood up and jogged out of the classroom. He was so pleased that he started humming to himself.

*slam*

He ran headfirst into something tall and red. He looked up. Jessica! Shit!

"If you wanted to get close to me Blaine, all you had to do was ask," she cooed.

Still riding the high from his successful conversation with his teacher, Blaine's brain finally seemed to be working fast enough to express what he needed to say.

"I d-d-d-don't know what my —boyfriend would th-think of that." Hah! I did it!

Jessica gaped at him. "B-boyfriend?" she demanded. Look, even the normies stutter sometimes.

"Sorry, babe."

Maybe it's not too late to turn this week around after all.

—

"So I see you finally ditched Stalker Barbie," Kurt commented.

"Huh?"

"That cheerleader who's been stalking you all week," he explained. Kurt wasn't there when that happened.

"But, I…you n-noticed?"

"Of course I noticed, silly. I always notice you." Oh.

"But you d-d-didn't…why didn't you come r-rescue me?" Blaine demanded.

"Because you didn't need rescuing. I knew you could handle it."

"Oh."

I guess I did handle it, didn't I?

—

On Monday morning, Blaine Anderson found himself standing in front of Mr. Sinclair's desk.

"Yes, Blaine?"

"I…I w-w-want to do the presentation."

"Wait, what? Now you want to do the presentation? What changed your mind?"

"Well, it was—I think it was the b-b-book, actually. I thought about how l-lucky I am to-to live somewhere I can s-s-speak my mind. I w-w-want to share my ideas. And, well, I, uh, uh…just knowing that you were willing to b-b-be flexible—knowing that kind of gave me the con-con-confidence to realize I could do it."

"Then by all means. I'll add you to the list. Do you want to go first or last?"

Blaine took a deep breath. Probably better to go for it before I psych myself out. "I'll g-go first. But I d-d-do still w-want that deal we made, about p-participation. If that's…if that's alright. Sometimes I…I have b-bad days, when my ssspeech is worse and that would re-really help me keep my grade up."

"The deal still stands. Go get ready for your speech, Blaine." He even smiled at Blaine for a moment. Maybe he's not an asshole after all.

Mr. Sinclair wrote a list names on the blackboard and then called for the class to come to order. "First up, please put your hands together for Blaine Anderson was has bravely volunteered to present first."

Blaine abandoned his carefully chosen seat in the middle of the class and walked to the podium at the front of the room. He looked out over the sea of students in front of him, all eyes looking up at him expectantly. He took a deep breath. Courage.

"Be-before I st-start, I just want to let you know that I-I-I stutter. So buckle up, because yyyou're in for a —bumpy ride." A few chuckles of amusement came from the audience. He looked up from his notes to see several students smiling at him. No point worrying about not stuttering because now they definitely all know. It did feel like a small weight lifting from his shoulders. He felt empowered.

He took another deep breath, reminded himself to look at the audience every now and then, and began to speak.

"George Or-Orwell wrote about a —dystopian society where p-people were not free to express themselves. In th-this novel…"

Author's Notes

Thank you to the lovely people who have been leaving reviews! I'm still deciding if I want to post the sequel to Express Yourself over here and your reviews have definitely increased the odds.

References:

The Princess Bride - Surely you all know The Princess Bride! If not, go watch it immediately! For the purposes of this story, all you need to know is there are some great fencing scenes.

1984 - A dystopian novel written in 1948 by George Orwell that imagines a grim fascist future where truth is whatever the rulers want it to be and Big Brother is always watching. So, actually, not that different from now! While they can't actually read people's minds, citizens are under near-constant surveillance and one wrong word can have you hauled off on accusations of Thoughtcrime. To me, one of the most fascinating elements of the book is Newspeak, a language created by the ruling party which is so limited in grammar and vocabulary that supposedly criminal anti-party thoughts are not even possible in this language.

Minority Report - This Philip K. Dick novel was adapted into a movie in 2002. Tom Cruise stars in this sci-fi action thriller, detectives use information from psychics who can see the future to arrest criminals before they commit crimes. The detective starts to question what they are doing when he himself is accused of a murder he has not yet committed.

Presumably Blaine had an intelligent point to share about how the moral conundrums in 1984 connect to Minority Report. Both stories deal with the idea that people should be arrested based purely on their thoughts before they have committed a hurtful action.

Special Ed Law in the U.S.

As I stated in the story, an IEP is considered a legal document that the school must follow. "Due Process" is the name for what is essentially a court system for special education. If a school district and a family cannot agree on something about a child's special education needs or services, either party can file for due process. It is separate from the regular legal system but it can involve lawyers, subpoenas, and many other trappings of the regular legal system. An impartial hearing officer acts as the judge. As you can imagine, this can very stressful for all parties involved.

IEP Accommodations (in the U.S.):

Accommodations refers to anything that is a change to how a student participates in the school environment. They are chosen to give a student the same access to their education as their peers (not to give them an unfair advantage). A blind student might have an accommodation that all written materials be provided as audiobooks or in Braille. A student with ADHD might have an accommodation allowing them to use noise-cancelling headphones during independent work because they are easily distracted by noise in the classroom.

There are accommodations for both the classroom and for tests, which are usually distinctive. Testing modifications are things like getting extra time to complete a test or being allowed to take a test in a separate, quiet space. Many accommodations are easily implemented in a general education classroom by a gen ed teacher, while others require a higher level of expertise. Being provided extra time to respond and alternatives for oral presentations would both be fairly standard accommodations for someone who stutters. The alternative for the oral presentation might still involve speaking, but perhaps just one-to-one with the teacher or the student would be allowed to videotape the presentation ahead of time. Accommodations should always be tailored to the specific individual needs and strengths of the student.