If Blaine Anderson was being honest with himself, he was probably the happiest he'd ever been. He'd finally gotten out of that hellhole of a school he'd been forced to go to junior high in, and he was now a Dalton Academy Warbler.

He sat in the back of his math class, fiddling with his pen. He was supposed to be taking notes, but he wasn't listening to a word the teacher was saying. The Warblers had just announced that he was going to be the lead vocalist for their sectionals competition! This was practically unheard of. A freshman newbie, after one audition, had landed himself a spot as the leading man. Blaine wasn't even thinking about the animosity this could cause with some of the veteran Warblers, and, frankly, he wasn't sure that he cared. After all the crap he'd been put through in the last few years, he deserved to be on top of the world for once.

"...Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine snapped to attention. "I'm sorry?"

"Can you tell me what the answer to number three is?" his teacher asked in a clearly bored tone.

"Uh," Blaine scrambled, trying to find where they were. He glanced sidelong at the boy next to him, trying to decipher if he was even on the correct page in their text book.

After a few moments, the teacher heaved a sigh. "It would serve you well to pay attention in my class, Mr. Anderson," he deadpanned before turning back to the white board and going on with the lesson.

Blaine could feel his cheeks coloring a deep shade of red as the boy in front of him turned around in his seat, a wide grin on his face. Blaine recognized him from Warblers practice but didn't know his name.

"Mr. Anderson," the boy mocked in a whisper.

Blaine gave him a sneer and turned toward the board, but today was not his day. Within a matter of minutes, he was daydreaming again, trying to decide what he wanted his first Warblers selection to be. The counsel had told all the freshmen that song choice was in the hands of the elected officials, but Blaine thought perhaps his position as lead Warbler would give him some credibility. He preferred to sing pop songs. They tended to fit his vocal range better, and they were sure to be crowd-pleasers. Maybe he could pick something by a female artist to really shake things up. Maybe—

"That will be a detention, Mr. Anderson," the teacher called from the front of the room. "Report to the principal's office following your last period."

"I'm...uh, I'm sorry," Blaine fumbled. "I have Warblers practice after last period. Could I—um, could I be excused from detention?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"If Warblers practice is something you want to do, you'll have to do it on your time, Mr. Anderson," the teacher responded. "Unfortunately for you, after school today is still my time since you've chosen not to pay attention in my class."

Blaine groaned. "Yes, sir," he answered, knowing there was nothing else he could do. He was more upset about getting his first ever detention than missing Warblers practice. Barely more than a few weeks in and already he was getting into trouble. Step it up, Anderson, he told himself as he gathered his things at the sound of the bell ringing. You're not off to a great start.

"Have fun in detention," the boy that had mocked him earlier said as he pushed past him into the hall. "Guess someone else will have to sing lead today."

I guess they really are mad, Blaine thought as he headed toward his next class, the last of the day before his detention. Hopefully it blows over soon. I deserve this.

Blaine pulled out his phone the moment he sat down in detention. There was officially nothing he could do; he had all his homework done already. He really wished he could be in Warblers practice, but he'd be there soon enough. The principal had agreed that since this was his first detention, he only had to serve a half an hour.

He lazily checked his texts and emails then went over to one of the library computers. He thought about logging into his social media, but decided against it, navigating instead to a website that he visited almost as much as Facebook.

This site was the one and only thing that he'd held on to from his old school. He didn't really want to remember any of the things that went on there, the bullying, the taunting, and the beating he'd taken at the last school dance he'd ever attended there. Dalton was definitely a great choice. But, if there was one thing he'd learned at his old school, it was that he was lucky and not everyone was. He'd gotten out of his awful school, but so many people were still facing daily bullying. So, he still checked the anti-bullying website his old school had shown him. He commented as much as he could in hopes that something he said could help them.

He grinned as "Welcome, C.O.U.R.A.G.E." popped up in the corner of the screen. He'd chosen that name very carefully when he'd set up his account. It was the word his friend had told him just before they'd gone to the dance together that night. Though he and the boy weren't very close, it had meant the world to him at the time, helping to calm his nerves about the dance then and helping him work through the pain he was feeling later. Blaine began to read the newest posts, making a few comments of advice and encouragement until his half-an-hour detention ran out.

He logged out of the site and the computer quickly, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he rushed down the hallway to Warblers practice. He could hear the loud sounds of singing before he could even see the choir room, and when he burst through the doors, he was blasted by a song. All the Warblers were lined up at the back of the room in two rows, and the senior member of the counsel, a blond named Michael, was leading them through the moves to a song they'd sung many times.

A huge grin grew on Blaine's face as he hurried to join them, stepping into line at the end of the front row and falling into step. Dancing came easily to him, and it made him happy. Maybe that was another part of the reason they promoted me to the lead, he wondered to himself.

After the song ended, Michael raised a hand to keep everyone from talking at once. "Good job, Warblers," he said, smiling at the group. "There were a few places we need to go over again, but we have something else to take care of now. Warbler Blaine, I'd like to see you front and center, please," he said, the look on his face none too happy.

Blaine gulped and stepped forward, walking toward the front of the group and taking a place next to Michael.

"Where were you at the beginning of the rehearsal?" Michael asked sharply.

"Um, detention." Blaine hung his head.

"I see. And what class did you get detention in?"

"Uh, math."

Michael nodded and looked around the room before focusing back on Blaine. "Warbler Blaine, do you intend to continue in your position as lead singer for the Warblers?"

"Yes?" Blaine squeaked, not really sure where this question was going.

"See to it that you are not late to practice again," Michael said. "Your tardiness does not set a good example for the rest of this group. As our leader, I'm sure you can understand that. Be aware, we voted you into this position, and we can vote to remove you if this behavior continues."

"I—I understand," Blaine mumbled, feeling properly ashamed of himself now. "It—it won't happen again."

"Good man," Michael said, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a smile. "Now, I believe we need to take it from the top, about 16 bars in..."

Blaine paid close attention for the rest of practice, not wanting to miss a single thing and risk being removed from his position. This was honestly the first time he thought he might belong somewhere, and he didn't want to lose that to some foolish daydreaming.

After practice, as they were all leaving, several members of the group came up to Blaine with smiles and claps on the back. They were full of compliments about his talent and how glad they were that he was going to be leading them in competition. He felt like he was on top of the world. "You should join us at the Lima Bean," someone told him. "We're going to get some coffee and talk about our sectionals competition!"

"Sounds great!" he said.

"You can ride with me," said a chubby kid that had been singing in the back row. Blaine knew he was a fellow freshman.

I have really got to learn everyone's name, he chided himself as he flashed the chubby boy a smile. "Awesome! Thanks!" As he leaned over to grab his backpack off of the floor, he saw the boy from his math class approaching him.

"You won't last," the boy sneered.

"Why are you bothering me?" Blaine hissed under his breath. He didn't want anyone else to overhear and step in. He could handle this himself.

"You think you're some kind of a hot shot?" the boy asked. "You're nothing. You're scum. You won't last." And with that, he took off out of the room, heading the opposite way of everyone else.

Blaine stood still for a moment, trying his best to shake off what the kid had said. He'd received so many compliments from the rest of the group; it should be easy not to think about it. But for some reason, the boy's words seemed to bite him deeply, and Blaine couldn't quite figure out what it was about him that made him feel scared and small in the presence of that boy. He shook himself. Get it together, Anderson, he told himself again. He shouldn't bother you. Just shake it off. "Hey! Wait up!" he called to the chubby boy, jogging the few feet that separated them.

"Hi," Blaine said when he caught up to him. "I'm Blaine."

"I know who you are," the boy snorted. "I'm Trent."