The pale brunette sat on a plush arm chair in the ornate room, looking out the window. A well kept and landscaped lawn spread out beneath the blue sky. A lone, black tree stood in the distance, its leaves vibrant and autumn colored. The wind rustled through them making them look almost like flames. The boy’s breath caught as a distinctly different fire flared in his eyes.

“Kurt?” The woman’s voice was even softer now and accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. Kurt. Right, that was him. He’d said it when he came in, “Hello, I’m Kurt Hummel,” but it had felt strange and he still wasn’t accustomed to answering to it. His own name was foreign to him; then again everything these days was foreign.

He turned to the woman who was holding a brown bag on a hanger. He took the bag without meeting her eyes, and then quickly turned to the door.

He was stopped by the lady there. Miss Rowe. Social worker. He ran the words over in his mind for the billionth time trying to cement them. She specialized in severe and unusual cases of neglect with a focus on societal assimilation. She’d explained it to him twice. The words still meant nothing, but he knew she was helping him adapt to all the…new…stuff. He lacked the words to describe the dramatic changes his life had recently undergone.

Bringing himself back to the present, he processed what she’d just said. “Head up, and say thank you.” He cursed himself for forgetting. These were basic manners, she’d been so patient going over them again and again, and he’d still screwed them up. Her tone was informative and supportive, a patient reminder; however that didn’t stop the feeling flared in his gut, fear; they’d identified for him.

He quelled it quickly. No, that reaction didn’t belong anymore. It was different now. Everything was so different. Miss Rowe had told him that rate at which he was picking things up was impressive, but he still felt so unaware.

He turned back to the first woman, meeting her gaze, while every fiber in his body tensed at the action. “Thank you,” he tried a small smile that felt strained to him but the woman smiled back and nodded and returned to her desk.

Letting out a breath he scurried across the hall into the bathroom and tore the bag open. There was a mirror but he didn’t give it a second glance as he changed. Mirrors were new to Kurt, but suddenly they were every where. He couldn’t understand the fascination. His first encounter was quite alarming.

For the first few days he’d been confined to a bed in a large papery feeling t-shirt. When they’d finally allowed him to leave Miss Rowe and brought him some clothes and given him similar instructions to those he’d just received.

He pulled the pants up, jumping a little to avoid standing on the legs. He turned slightly as he jumped and an image caught his eye to the left, surprising him so thoroughly he stumbled back into the wall away from it.

There was a pale young boy whose entire being seemed both physically and emotionally sunk into himself. The pale gray tinged skin suggested years of days spent in the dark and a severe lack of nutrition, as did the clearly outlined ribs and sharp angles of every joint and his face. A face with wide bright glasz gray eyes; flat eyes that seemed to know the crinkle of neither laugh nor frown lines, but seemed heavy and tired.

While his brain quickly recognized his reflection, his own shocked expression staring obviously back at him, it was an entirely separate, and exceptionally more difficult matter for him to consciously and concretely grasp and accept the idea that this pitiful picture was him. He’d never thought of himself as such, and suddenly the way everyone was always looking at him with sad eyes, speaking in soft voices and laying gentle hands on him as if he would shatter at the slightest touch made sense.

He huffed and reached for the shirt, done with the reflective surface, the mirror, he would be informed when he asked. His eyes could not not glance over the marks on his chest and make as he did so though, things he seen a million times but never with the whole picture…never with a face.

His stomach rolled, a new reaction to ancient marks; and it unnerved him a bit because he could find no reason in his mind for the change.

With a deep breath, pulling on the sleeves of the stiff jacket of the uniform, he now turned to look in the mirror of the current bathroom. An odd feeling surged inside him as he realized he looked fairly normal…healthier at least and much more comparable to the average overall appearance of others he encountered than he had those weeks ago in the hospital, as they had called it.

Retrieving the hanger, bag, and his discarded clothes he returned to the office across the hall where the two women were speaking in whispered tones.

Neither of them noticed his entrance. Kurt, Kurt he repeated in his mind, he must think it if he ever wants to feel comfortable with it, cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure what to do now.

Miss Rowe’s head snapped quickly and she broke into a wide smile, “Oh Kurt, you look dashing!”

Kurt eyebrows crinkled at the comment, trying to remember the word for it….a compliment…she’s paid him a compliment. Nice things people said to one another, it’d been part of his etiquette training. Kurt shuffled his feet as blood rushed to his face in a strange sensation. “Th-thank you,” he stuttered out; he would not forget again.

The other woman rose, also rose, coming over with a smile and smoothing the shoulder of the jacket, “Yes it does seem to suit him doesn’t it. Yes I’m quite certain you’ll fall right in step with the other boys in no time,” she nodded encouragingly.

Kurt hoped she was right. He’d been going to “school” for a couple weeks now, and had recently finished assimilation training, but up until this point it had all been one on one. When he was told that he was going to a boarding school where he would study with hundreds of students his age he wasn’t sure if he was excited or nervous. Miss Rowe had assured him he was ready and would do splendid, but Kurt was still hesitant, enthralled with the concept yes, but hesitant.

“Well, that’s just about everything then, I’ll just go and fetch his schedule then,” the woman uttered scurrying out of the room.

Miss Rowe turned to him, smiling fondly, but with what seemed to be sadness in her eyes, though Kurt couldn’t imagine why. “Well, this is it Kurt, where we part. I want you to know that I’m very proud of you,” she said laying a hand on his shoulder. He beamed, happy to please her after all her help.

“You’ve come so far. You’re a clever boy Kurt, and quite an entertaining person.” She smiled ruefully and he laughed. She didn’t stop smiling but her eyes grew serious and her hand on his shoulder tightened slightly as she continued. “But you’re more than an act Kurt, remember that. I hope you’ll let your personality blossom here.”

Her eyes bore into Kurt’s and he stared back for a moment, before he let his eyes dart around the room, not sure how to respond, only having a hazy comprehension of what she meant. He was saved as the woman returned. “Alright we’re all set then. You can still catch the last half of History before lunch Kurt. I’ll be happy to take you there when you’re ready.”

“He’s ready,” Miss Rowe said smiling and giving me a wink before she broke away to shake the other woman’s hand, “It’s been a pleasure, I appreciate all your help.”

“Of course, have a nice day,” she returned as Miss Rowe turned to leave with one last pat on my shoulder.

“Wait!” The meant to be whispered thought came out as a shout and the whole room froze. Kurt rubbed the back of my neck, nervous and embarrassed as he took a step toward Miss Rowe. “Sorry, I just—um—well…thank you…for, well for everything,” He sighed at what was, in his mind, a poor attempt at eloquence. “…Really it means a lot.” He was having a hard time keeping Miss Rowe’s gaze, but refused to look away, years of training be damned.

“Oh, Kurt,” she sighed, reaching forward and pulling him into an embrace. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, surprising himself, but it felt right; it felt comforting. She pulled back and ran a hand through his hair in a motherly way, at least it was how he imagined a mother would do it. “I was more than happy to do it,” she beamed at him. “My number’s in your cell, you can call me if you ever need anything, okay?”
He nodded, his heart a little calmer with the knowledge.

“Good luck, Kurt, I’ll be checking in,” she said giving him another quick hug before turning and walking out the door. Kurt watched the empty space for a moment before swallowing slowly and turning back to the other woman.

She was standing by another door with a binder, folder, and some papers and smiling softly. “You ready?” she asked.

As I’ll ever be, remarked the sarcastic voice in Kurt’s that has been growing stronger ever day since…he…restarted. Instead he said, “Yes,” and followed her out the door, down the gorgeously adorned and polished hall, up a flight of red carpeted stairs, and down another hallway before the pair stopped at two heavy wooden doors.

“Now this is a lecture style class, so it’s quite big. The rest are much smaller but it’s nothing to be intimidated about okay?”

Kurt nodded, bracing himself as she opened one of the doors, revealing a large room with what he assumed to be around 50 students sitting in seats that were raised toward the back of the room, and facing a chalk board at which a man was scribbling with vigor, speaking animatedly. “…and that, gentlemen, is where we come in.”

The woman stood to the side holding the door open and motioned him in. “Kurt Hummel, welcome to Dalton Academy.”