Blaines POV

I carded my fingers through my wet, un-gelled hair, staring at my reflection intently. I was wet and fresh out of the shower. A fresh, black towel hung below my waist. My teeth were brushed and my contacts were placed perfectly over my irises. I had a feeling of comfort after my egg-white omelet with fresh kale, pumpernickel toast with apricot jam, vanilla macchiato from my brand new press, and a wonderfully juicy pair. I was energized after my five-oclock run. Lastly, I was feeling pretty good after the last chapter of a good book. All of my papers were filed, all of my procrastinated work was done, and my teeth were brushed. After I was finished blow-drying and carefully gelling my thick curls, I stared down at the neatly placed outfit I had layed on my made bed. It was my tan boot cut jeans, my black sweater, socks and shoes, and my final touch? A bowtie. However, not just any old bowtie. It was my black leather bowtie. In other words, it was a pretty big deal.

Anyways, I fled my apartment, looking crisp if I do say so myself... I had my messenger bag hung on my shoulder and another coffee-delicacy in my hand. I drove accordingly, holding back all excitement for my first legitimate teaching gig. I was a mixture of happy(clap along), and frightened. I knew factually what I was getting into. Juniors and senior classes are big deals. Its their final years, you know? Its about them, not me. I had to do it right and I had to get along. I had to show them that I wasnt just some pushover. I was here for them and let the record show that they were going to be the ones paying my bills, technically. In all honesty, they needed me and I needed them. Win-win-win-win...too many wins.

Nerves, thats what it was.

When I pulled up to the Mckinley High parking lot entrance, I didnt see many kids. Since it was still early, I figured theyd be arriving much later. I looked around as I drove past the football field. The grass was clean and there was clearly dew resting from last night. It was slightly dark outside due to daylight savings, I guessed. As I passed the bleachers, I couldnt help but stare at the young student with the large sketchbook. He was dressed in tight black clothes and had a stripe of pink in his black hair. His hand was moving fast with a pencil against his paper. In the other hand, he had an almost completely gone cigarette. I thought it irresponsible of me not to stop and tell him to put it out, but it was my first day. His face had a few clear piercings, as well as his ears. The only thing that stood out  most was his pale complexion. I felt creepy thinking this, but I really found his stunning appearance endearing and just knew how wonderful his eyes would be. Like a painting... I laughed out loud at my own thoughts as if I were some poet.

I parked in the first open spot I saw, which was the first space I saw. I gathered my belongings and walked past the boy towards the door. He looked up, hearing my footsteps. I smiled genuinely, receiving a forced one back. When I walked through the doors, the lights were on and the halls were empty. As I walked passed each room, I noticed that everyone was all set.

"Ah, Blaine Anderson," I heard from behind me. I turned to face Principal Figgins with a welcoming smile. He shook my hand and lead me to my classroom.

It was a nice little room with mustard walls and a white tiled floor. My desk was large and placed directly in front of four rows of four plus one row of three. There was a green chalk board next to my desk and quotes around the entire room. Figgins explained my schedule, saying that I didnt have to worry much since I knew all of the times and could keep track of the attendance papers. He left without a goodbye, but I figured that was common courtesy wherever he was from.

I figured writing my name on the board would be appropriate, so I picked up the chalk and wrote "Mr. Anderson" in cursive.

I sat down in the comfortable desk chair and began unpacking things into my desk. The top drawers, I decided, would be for files. Id have to pick some up the next day. The bottom two would be for supplies.

I took out my book, opening to the first clean page. I had just purchased it at a bookstore next to a starbucks.

About twenty minutes later, young adults filed through the halls. The bell rang out with a loud chime. the first person that entered my classroom was bleacher boy. His clothes were black, tight, and leather. He looked like he wanted everyone around him to go away... maybe to the depths of hell? He carried his sketchbook with him. Probably because it was too large to fit in his small grey bag. He took a seat in front. I pretended to be lost in my book. I didnt want to be rude, I just didnt understand how to speak to him. I heard him begin sketching as more students arrived, laughing and taking their seats. The second bell rang, beginning the class officially. Id have to get used to the whole "first bell means homeroom ends, second means class begins" and every bells after that is either an end or a beginning to a class. No me gusta.

I placed a piece of paper on my page and closed my book gently, placing it down on my laptop.

"Alright," I said, causing chatter to stop, surprisingly. I smiled, "My name is Mr. Anderson. Welcome to Honors Lit."

I looked around. There were jocks with their arms stereotypically around cheerleaders, nerds in the back, a few normals, a few geeks, the bleacher kid in the front, and a few pretty school girls. It was normal class. Period one would be the best, they said.

"This year, as seniors, youre probably expecting a lot of reading, writing, and homework from this class. Which means youre right! I will be assigning to you a bunch of different writing projects due irrationally early, long complicated books that youll have to read every night, and loads of homework and tests. You are aware that youre in a n honors course, correct? Good," I looked down to see a smile appear on bleacher boys face, "Very good. So, the game plan for today is simply to take attendance and assign your first project."

Everyone was mellow at this point. Of course when I used the word "assign" in the same sentence as "today" moans of dissatisfaction erupted. Oddly enough, people were amused, judging by the looks on their faces and the slight chuckles here and then.

I went down the list of names, some hard to pronounce, some not.

"Rachel Berry," I said. A perky little girl in plaid looked up, happy as ever. She raised her hand and said "present and ready to learn, Mr. Anderson", which I found cute in a puppy-cute way.

"Kurt Hummel."

Bleacher boy looked up from where he was lost in his sketching. He waved at me with a nervous, yet zen look on his face. I smiled again, returning to my list. It wasnt long before everyone was checked off and claimed present. I wished I wasnt so distracted by this Kurt character. He made me kind of nervous, not only because he looked annoyed sometimes, but because he seemed really sad. Not to mention how attractive he- no. Dont say that, Blaine. Stupid, stupid, stupid.