Kurt Hummel stared at his reflection in the mirror of his locker. He carefully flattened his hair and took a deep breath. Today was the day: His thirteenth birthday, and he finally had the courage to invite the Cheerios to his party.

            “Kurt! Happy birthday!” Blaine snapped a picture of his best friend as he leaned against the lockers. He carefully smoothed an ungelled curl back into place and straightened his bowtie. “Six o’ clock for your party tonight, right? I have an awesome present for you!”

            Kurt closed the locker, smiling slightly. He’d lived next door to Blaine Anderson since he was eight years old. After his mother passed away, his dad had moved them to Lima, Ohio to get a fresh start. “The party starts at six. Come over early to help me decorate?” He asked.

            “Of course!” Blaine grinned. “Whatever I can do to make your night go smoothly.”

            As they started towards their next class, a group of Cheerios rounded the corner, headed by Quinn Fabray. She flipped her blonde ponytail and placed her hands on her hips, contemplating Blaine’s outfit. “Hey there, Greaser! Got your back stock from Vidal Sassoon yet? We all know if you stop drinking that gel at night you’ll shrivel up and be even smaller than you are now.”

            “Hi Quinn,” Kurt breathed, ignoring the jab pointed at his best friend.

            “Hey… Kirk. What’s up?”

            “Um, it’s Kurt, actually. I wanted to know if you and the other Cheerios wanted to come to my house tonight? It’s my birthday and my dad’s throwing this totally lame party but we’ll have the whole basement to ourselves and-“

            Quinn held up a hand, looking around at the other Cheerios as she contemplated the offer. “We’ll come to your little party, but only if you can help me with this French assignment I have due. We all know you’re tres in love with the language, and between Cheerios practice and not caring about French class, I just don’t have the time to get the assignment finished.”

            “Of-of course!” Kurt replied excitedly. I’ll have it finished for you by the time my party starts. It’s at six, by the way.” He pushed a stack of invitations into Quinn’s hand. “The address is on the back. Just stop by whenever.”

            “Right.” Quinn handed the invitations to Santana Lopez, rolling her eyes as the brunette glared at her. “See you later, Kirk. Bye, Greaser!” The Cheerios stalked off, giving Kurt and Blaine one last group glare before turning their backs.

            “Why would you invite them, Kurt? You know the Unholy Trinity and their band of flying blondes aren’t going to come,” Blaine complained.

“Blaine, she said yes! She said they’d be there so they will. I can’t believe the Cheerios are coming to my party!” Kurt grabbed his best friend’s arm and pulled him down the hallway. “Now come on, we’re going to be late!”

            Kurt sat in front of his mirror, a copy of Vogue sitting open on his vanity. The featured article this month was “30, Flirty, and Thriving! How to Make the Most of Middle Age”, and Kurt had loved the article. He’d practically memorized all the tips on having a successful career, home, and love life, and hoped his 30s would be just as exciting as the article had made it sound.  He ran his fingers through his hair one last time, spiking it up and hoping it would stay. He sighed heavily, contemplating himself in the mirror. He poked his cheeks, sucking them in and wondering if his cheekbones would show high on his face like the models in his favorite magazine. “Well, this is as good as it gets,” he grumbled, staring into his reflection’s blue-grey-green eyes.

            “I think you look great, kiddo. The hair’s definitely different.” Burt Hummel stood in his son’s doorway.  “I think it’s a good change. Makes you look more grown up.”

            Kurt rolled his eyes at his father. “Thanks, Dad, but I don’t really think I need fashion advice from someone who wears flannel and baseball caps. No offense.” Kurt looked wistfully at the magazine one last time before standing up and walking towards the doorway. “Remember Dad, you promised to stay upstairs for the whole party! The Cheerios are coming over and I don’t want them to think I’m some lame teenager who needs his parents to check up on everything he does.”

            “Of course, kiddo. I’ll be in my room the whole time. But remember, door stays open. I don’t want you kids doing anything inappropriate.” Burt started down the hallway towards his room, waving off his son’s protest at having the door stay open for the party. “I’m proud of you, Kurt. I hope you know that. Happy birthday, son.” Kurt smiled at his dad before heading into the basement to decorate. He still had close to an hour before the party was officially supposed to start and wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He was hanging up the streamers when he saw a flash from behind him.

            “Blaine, do you really have to take pictures of everything?” he teased. Blaine’s interests changed as often as the weather, and early in the school year Blaine had taken to photography. He carried a camera around his neck everywhere he went, snapping pictures of everything and anything he could, but his favorite subject seemed to be Kurt. Blaine snapped another picture before letting the camera fall so he could carry a rather large box the rest of the way down the stairs.

            “Of course I do! I think I might stick with photography for a while. I’m pretty great at it!” Blaine smiled and placed the box on the table. “I’ll finish the streamers. Come open your present, Birthday Boy!” He traded places with Kurt, turning slightly so he could watch as Kurt lifted the box off the present.            

            “A… doll house?” Kurt wrinkled his nose, confused. “Why would you buy me a doll house, B?”

            “I didn’t it buy it, I made it. I know you have all those dolls that your mom used to collect, so I figured I’d give them a home.”

            Kurt reached up to hug his best friend, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s perfect, B. I love it. Thank you so much!” Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, glad that he had done so well with the gift.

            “Kurt, there’s something else I have to tell you about the doll house. Inside, I put-“ Blaine was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

            “Ohmygod, they’re here,” Kurt whispered. “Hey Blaine, thanks for the doll house, I’m just gonna put it-“ He opened the closet door and put the doll house on the shelf.  “B,  take off your bowtie! We’re trying to be popular, remember? I don’t think the Cheerios- Oh, I need to go open the door! Put some music on, would you?” He took off up the stairs towards the hallway, leaving Blaine in the basement. Kurt wrenched open the front door to reveal Quinn standing on the porch.

            ‘Hey, Kirk.” She pushed her way past him into the house. “The other Cheerios will be here soon. They just had to make a quick… stop. Did you finish my paper?” She rounded on him, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms.

            “Of course I did. Um, it’s upstairs in my room. I’ll go grab it for you. Feel free to head into the basement; Blaine should be down there.” Kurt took the stairs two at a time to his room, threw open the door, and grabbed the folder with Quinn’s French paper off his desk. He glanced at his hair one more time in the mirror to make sure it was still up and ran back downstairs. “Here it is,” he said breathlessly, handing the folder to Quinn. “I typed it so you wouldn’t have to worry about rewriting it. Did you want to head downstairs?”

            “Oh, I’ll just wait on the other Cheerios. In fact, they should be pulling up right now.” Quinn glanced down at her phone, smiling at a text she’d received. “Yep, they’re right outside. Open the door for them, Kirk?” Kurt pulled open the door slowly, not sure how many Cheerios he was about to let into his home. He spotted Santana and Brittany- before being hit directly in the face with two ice-cold slushies. As he tried to get the burning liquid out of his eyes, he heard laughter from the three girls. “Happy birthday, loser!” Quinn cackled, walking out of the house with the paper in her hand. She closed the door behind her, leaving Kurt covered in wet, flavored ice. He walked slowly into the basement, tears filling his eyes as Teenage Dream played in the background.

            “Kurt, what happened? Are you okay? Do you need help?” Blaine tried to reach out to the other boy, but Kurt pushed him away and ran directly into the still open closet. He pulled the door shut behind him and slammed a fist into the wall. “Kurt, talk to me! Tell me what I can do!”

            “Just go away, Blaine! I don’t wanna talk to you! I don’t wanna talk to anybody!” Kurt yelled. He slammed a fist into the wall again, feeling something sprinkle down on top of his head. “I wanna be thirty! Thirty, and flirty, and thriving!” He sat down and buried his face in his hands. “Thirty, and flirty, and thriving. Thirty, and flirty, and thriving. Thirty, and flirty, and thriving…”