I wake up, sunlight coming through my bedroom window. I make a deal with myself, five more minutes. I jump out of bed to the sound of Wes’ incessant knocking, “You had better be awake Blaine, if I don’t see you in the senior commons in fifteen minutes, I’ll make sure you won’t be considered for a solo for the whole semester.” I clear my throat and try my best not to sound like I had just woken up, “On my way, just adjusting my tie.” I imagine him walking away muttering yeah right. I’ve been here a year but it still haunts me, the yelling in the hallways, the hot, stinging pain that his knuckles left on my face, then darkness. I slept early last night, but that only meant the terrors came early as well. How long have I been sitting on the floor?! Five minutes..Great..Ten minutes left…I struggle to shower as fast as I can, just enough to get the smell of the bed off my skin.� I half button down my shirt, get my tie right in one swoop, put my shoes on, take the much needed time to tame my curls, check if I look decent, grab my bag and burst out of my dorm room into the small crowd of students on their way to where I should have been, five minutes ago. I tear through the crowd reciting a daily reminder in my head: you’re here, far away, safe…smile, no one’s going to kill you.

I reach the spiral staircase with as much positivity as I can, then I start thinking about how much Wes is going to hate me for not warming up properly for today’s performance, I did run some vocal exercises while dressing. I hurry, the people are starting to fill in when I hear it, a light, high-pitched voice, “Excuse me, can I ask you a question? I’m new here.” Instantly I am looking straight into this person’s beautiful blue eyes. I take in his whole face and I realize this is no stranger, I know him. “My name is Blaine.” I say, enthusiastic about this encounter. “Kurt” he says. Ah so that’s my alibi’s name. “So what exactly is going on?” Kurt asks. “The Warblers,” I say, half smiling, Wes won’t be too mad at me now. I explain to him we give impromptu performances in the senior commons, without mentioning I am one of them. “Tends to shut the school down,” I add. “So the glee club here is kind of cool?” he asks. �Kind of? “The Warblers are like rock stars.” I’ve always wanted to say that. His reaction to my words is curious to see, he seems shocked. I grab his hand, offer him a shortcut, I feel suave taking him through the empty corridors like this; I’ve never done it before. We enter the common room, I spot Wes right away, and he’s talking to Jackson. I decide right then to leave Kurt in the middle of the main entrance where we’ll be facing in a few minutes. “Ooh…I stick out like a sore thumb.” Kurt realizes. I fix his collar, making sure all the Warblers see. “Well next time don’t forget your jacket new kid. You’ll fit right in” I give my bag to one of our freshman members, the boys start our intro and I say in my attempt at a suave voice, “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

I make Kurt the center of my performance, smiling at him, Wes notices, we exchange glances for a second and I know he sees Kurt too, they all do. I try my best at looking sly, I sing this song to him, be very playful about it ‘cause he had no idea. He’s smiling, laughing. I feel bad for a second, because we all know who Kurt is by face, we know he was sent here to spy on us, he’s part of our competition.

It’s over, the atmosphere is electric; high fives, fist bumps and bro hugs ensue. Wes pats me on the back, ”You were almost late, where did you find him?” His voice is calm; the performance went smoothly, I’m not in trouble. “He’s the reason I’m late, he was asking me for directions, we must be a threat that they feel the need to pay us a visit.” I respond. “It’s not like we haven’t watched their performances on Youtube to find out what they’re made of, though spying seems extreme, ask him out for coffee.” Wes adds and I face Kurt to see him blushing, a big smile on his face. He loved our little show; he looks like a child clapping with excitement. Surely he knows we’re rivals, why does he seem legitimately happy for us? I expected him to be gone by now, off to his friends to report what he witnessed, but there he stands. Why?

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I walk towards him, still where I left him and ask, “How did we do? Would you like to get some coffee?” I am taken aback by his response, he half shouts, “Amazing! Sure!” I laugh a little. The other Warblers are filing out, Andrew jokingly says, “Say hi to Rachel Berry for me, I would love to take her out sometime!” And I see Kurt’s face change in front of me, color drains from it, the smile gone. He realizes, all along I knew who he was. “This way” I say as I lead him into one of the study halls. He’s frightened, stiff, and I think he’s sweating bullets. “Hey Kurt, don’t worry, its okay.” We sit and wait for Wes and David to bring over some lattes. He seems like he’s calmed down, but only a little. I was going to open my mouth and say sorry when David walks toward us holding all four cups of coffee, Wes behind him with a tray of his favorite pastries. I help and offer one cup to Kurt, and introduce the two.

“It’s very civilized of you to invite me over coffee before you beat me up for spying.” Kurt says. That’s the first thing he thought of? I might just have something in common with this person. “We’re not going to beat you up.” Wes replies, very sternly. “You were such a terrible spy, we thought it was sort of, endearing.” David adds. It’s true, with the shades, the jacket and his over excitement over our performance, and the fact that new kids aren’t allowed to not wear uniforms, they're the first things students acquire before they even get their dorm room key or know which classes they’re in.

“Which made me think that spying on us wasn’t really the reason you came.” I say. Kurt’s eyes stay away from mine. Does he get beat up often? I wonder. His next question makes us laugh “Are you guys all gay?”� “No.” I answer. “I mean, I AM, but these two have girlfriends.” I smile, it’s still a mix between liberating and forbidding when people ask if I am gay and I say YES.� “This is not a gay school. We just have a Zero Tolerance Harassment Policy.” David says. “Everybody gets treated the same, no matter what they are. It’s pretty simple.” Wes continues. I lock my eyes on Kurt, as their words make sense to him, his eyes shift from fear, to sadness, to longing. He was on the verge of tears so fast, speechless. Was this the way I looked when my mother brought me here to check the place out? I politely ask Wes and David to leave us and they oblige.

“I take it you’re having trouble at school?” I ask. I can see Kurt fighting tears back as he explains his current situation. He’s the only gay kid in school, the only one out and a burly guy is making his life hell. He’s at the end of the whole being strong routine, he’s had enough. I think of my own experience, the isolation, then a short moment of freedom, ending with disaster and my transfer to Dalton. I try my best at giving Kurt advice.

“I left, and came here. Simple as that.”

�It wasn’t.

�“ So, you have two options, I mean I’d love to tell you to just come enroll here, but tuition at Dalton is sort of steep, and I know that’s not an option for everybody,”

What am I saying?

�“Or you could refuse to be the victim. Prejudice is just ignorance Kurt.”

�Where is this coming from?

“And you have a chance right now to teach him.”

�He’s taking in my words, making me worried, but I don’t stop.

“How?” he asks.

“Confront him, call him out. I ran, Kurt, I didn’t stand up. I let bullies chase me away. And it’s something I really regret.”

For the first time in a year, I say it out loud; to someone I don’t even know. I feel like crashing into my bed. Kurt seems to look better, calmer and maybe even a little bit hopeful. Then he smiles. It’s smaller than the one I saw earlier, but it’s there. “I have to get to class now. Take care Kurt… and see you at Sectionals.” We both stand up and he mouths his thanks. I clutch his left shoulder, “Hang in there.” I watch him as he walks away.

The moment he’s out of my sight, I plan on staying in my room for the rest of the day. Kurt is at the main atrium when I find myself imagining an article in the local paper about a young teenage boy, pale, brown hair, with blue eyes, beaten to death. I rush to get to where he’s standing, almost shouting at him, everyone hears, “Give me your number!” I’ve made him blush again, “Sorry, just so, you know, here’s mine, call me or text me if anything goes wrong.” I hand him a torn piece of paper from my bag where I scribbled my number. “Thanks Blaine, I will.” As I watch Kurt leave, I feel the sudden urge to puke, or cry. Not here, I tell myself. I push people to get ahead. I dart up the staircase and into my dorm room and lock the door. Not only do I have to deal with MY FEARS. I find myself sitting on my dorm room floor terrified for another person, a stranger, our rival, Kurt.

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