Kurt stepped into his first class, PreCalculus, with shaking hands and knees. The teacher, a lanky, elderly man with an unusually thick mustache introduced himself to Kurt as Mr. Aldrige. He handed Kurt a heavy textbook and asked him the one question he'd been dreading. 

"Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?"

Kurt glanced at the half full class. None of the students paid him and Mr. Aldrige any mind, as they were all involved in their own conversations. Kurt frantically shook his head no, which took Mr. Aldrige by surprise. 

"Um, are you sure?" 

Kurt nodded, a light blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"Well, if you're sure, you can take the empty seat in the fourth row. We're studying vectors right now, pretty basic stuff. If you don't understand anything, feel free to ask questions."

Kurt nodded and rushed to his seat in the fourth row. To his surprise, Kurt was unusually advanced for someone who'd been home schooled for practically his whole life. He'd understood the day's lesson on vector addition, and even knew how to solve the problems in the book for the next couple of chapters. He couldn't help but smile as he filled in his answers on the worksheet they'd been given to work on, finishing ten minutes before the rest of the class. He hoped that the rest of his classes would be as simple as PreCalculus, but he knew that was probably not going to be the case.  

His Anatomy class was a bit more difficult, but nothing he couldn't handle, and English was basic. Finally, the time came for the class Kurt was looking forward to the most, French. Since he was eight years old Kurt had dreamed of learning how to speak French. Unfortunately, his tutor, Ms. Finch, only knew a word or two of French. Thus, the extent of Kurt's French was whatever he could get from the Google Translate app on his iPhone. He'd be starting in a freshman French class, and would have to work hard to catch up on the three months of work he wasn't there for, but he was more than happy to do all the extra work, as long as he got to take the class. He walked towards the French classroom with a smile on his face. The hallway seemed unusually empty compared to how it had been earlier, but he shrugged it off as just his imagination. He heard the sound of footsteps  growing closer and closer behind him and he turned his head about an inch to catch a glimpse of whoever was behind him.

Kurt had only caught a flash of black before the person behind him somehow ended up in front of him, and in seconds Kurt's face was assaulted by a wave of freezing cold grape slushiness. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The purple slushy flying through the air. The chills sent down Kurt's spine as the ice cold mixture made contact with his skin. The sudden out break of pain over his skin as the cold pierced his fragile, porcelain skin. Everything happened painfully slowly.  Kurt fell against the lockers beside him as he struggled to open his eyes.  A sturdy hand pressed against his chest, pinning him down to the lockers. The familiar scent of liquor and cologne wafted in the air around him.

"Welcome to McKinley, loser," a hoarse, sultry voice whispered in his ear.

Kurt managed to crack his eyes open just enough to see the boy from earlier, Blaine Anderson, walking away from him, his pink haired companion cackling away beside him. Tears began to well up in Kurt's eyes, both from the immense pain he was in and the sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized he was already being bullied three hours into his first day of school. His shaking hands managed to clear away the slushy from his eyes so he could open them fully. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a petite brunette girl appeared before him.

The girl didn't bother introducing herself, but instead led Kurt b the shoulders into a nearby girls bathroom. The girl managed to sit him down on the sink counter and placed a warm paper towel against his face. Not a word was spoken between the two until the girl had cleaned off his face. 

"I'm Rachel, Rachel Berry, Finn's girlfriend," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He gave her a weak handshake, his mind preoccupied with trying to remember if he'd ever seen her before. He'd remembered catching a glimpse of her last month, when Finn had been forced to cut their date short because he had forgotten his gift for her for their three month anniversary on his desk. 

"I'm sorry about what happened out there. Blaine and Quinn have been initiating all the new kids with slushy facials since last year. Your skin may still burn a bit right now, but don't worry, the pain will be gone in about an hour or so. Trust me, I'm…an expert on slushy facials." She looked down at her shoes, suddenly regretting what she had just said.

Kurt frowned, realizing that poor Rachel probably went through this several times a week. Rachel tossed the paper towel she'd used to clean off Kurt's face into the trash, flashing him a toothy smile when she turned back to him.

"You can talk to me y'know. I'm not going to bite your head off," she said with a laugh.

Kurt immediately tensed up and shook his head. Rachel's face fell and her cheeks flushed pink as she awkwardly looked down at her shoes again.

"O-oh…uh, well, I'd better get back to lunch, F-Finn's waiting for me." 

She turned to leave but Kurt quickly grabbed her by the shoulder. He held up his index finger for her to wait and began rummaging through his messenger bag. He pulled out a pack of Post It's and a sharpie, quickly scribbled a message on the top Post it, and handed it to Rachel.

'I can't talk.'

Rachel's brow furrowed as she read the note.

"Finn never told me that you…can't talk," she practically whispered.

Kurt quickly scribbled a new message and handed it to her.

'Well, technically, I can talk. But I've chosen not to.'

Rachel gave him a look of confusion.

"Why?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and handed her another Post It message.

'Long story.'

Rachel laughed and even Kurt managed to crack a small smile.

"Well, I really have to get back to lunch, and I'm sure you have a class to get to, so I'll see you later Kurt."

With that, Rachel gave him a parting smile and wave before stepping out of the bathroom. Kurt gave himself a quick once over in the mirror before stepping out of the bathroom and walking to his French class. He stood in the doorway of the room nervously, watching as the teacher, a poised 30-something year old woman, spoke to the class in French. The woman caught sight of him from the corner of her eye and turned to him quickly. Her calm expression quickly turned to one of rage as she stormed towards him.

"You're late! Do you have an excuse?!" she shouted, jabbing her index finger into his chest.

Kurt opened his mouth without thinking, ready to tell his enraged teacher a watered down version of his hallway incident, but she quickly cut him off before he could speak.

"There are no excuses for being late to my class! Today is your first day Mr. Hummel, and you've made a lovely first impression so far. For being twenty minutes late to my class I'm giving you a detention. Now take a seat, and don't ever be late to my class again." The teacher shoved a pink detention slip into his hand and resume teaching.

For the remainder of the class Kurt sat in the back of the room, struggling to contain his tears as the other kids around him snickered and whispered about him. For just a second he'd thought his terrible day was going to be a bit better after Rachel had cheered him up, but all he managed to do was hit rock bottom. His day didn't become any better as he barely listened in the remainder of his classes and ate lunch in the back of the cafeteria by himself. When the final bell rang at the end of the day he ran at the speed of light to his locker, packed the books he needed, sent Finn a text that he would be walking home today, and stepped out of McKinley in a matter of three minutes. 

The fresh November air did Kurt a bit of good, soothing his raging nerves. After about ten minutes of peaceful walking, Kurt reached his destination, the Finch house hold, home to his former tutor, and best friend, Clarissa Finch. He pounded on the front door relentlessly, knowing that Clarissa was only inches from the door. Kurt had grown up with Clarissa, Ms. Finch's granddaughter, and knew that everyday at exactly 3:15 she took a fifteen minute nap in the living room. Kurt ceased his banging on the door when a disheveled Clarissa opened the door.

"K-Kurt, what're you doing here?" she asked groggily. 

"C-Can I come in?"

She didn't answer, but instead pulled her best friend into a tight hug once she noticed that he had tears pooled in his blue-green eyes. Kurt buried his far in her shoulder and began to sob loudly into the thin material of her sweater, finally allowing himself to cry freely for the first time that day.