Dear diary,

I finally got those damn children to sleep after 2 hours of kid's TV and 3 stories – babies? Don't have them. Oh, and before you say anything, no I don't have any children of my own. They were Rachel's precious gifts of life, I would like a definition of precious.

Anyway, where did I leave my story yesterday? Right. How I was so wrong.

The next day, I met Rachel at the Lima Bean coffee shop for an early morning grande non-fat mocha before school. Tuesday's were the most stressful days because it was usually my dumpster toss followed by a red slushie facial – which stains a lot! (By the way, the Lima Bean is still there and Tuesday's are still the most stressful days but for different reasons)

Anyway…

I was waiting on a wall just outside of the Lima Bean when I noticed a vaguely familiar car approaching the entrance to the parking lot. Off course, Rachel's secret man. Well, this car pulled up and she got out of the car – without any interaction with him I noted. As she approached, I noticed that she was wearing a Christmas jumper…in freakin' April! Not only are her sweaters a crime against fashion, I'm pretty sure there is a law against Christmas anything to be worn in spring – if not there should be.

As I came into her line of vision she smiled brightly and wrapped her long arms around my neck as some sort of greeting. Physical contact really isn't my thing, (well I wouldn't mind that guy to wrap his… *ahem*) anyway Rachel and I (God how posh) went into the Lima Bean and the smell of the finest coffee in all of Lima wafted into our senses and created a heavenly atmosphere. (Have you noticed that I'm a bit of a drama queen?) We made our way up to the front desk and ordered.

“I'll have a grande non-fat mocha and she'll take poison”

The cashier looked at me funny but then again I guess anyone would've if someone ordered poison.

“Sorry, tea she'll have a tea…even though poison would probably test better”

The woman went about making our drinks and handed them to us with a small smile. We went and took a seat at a table by the window that overlooked the parking lot. We always have to same argument time and time again.

“I'm sorry but I just don't understand why you drink that stuff; you're not even British”

To which she would always reply:

“You don't have to be British to like tea, some British people don't even like tea”

Well aren't they the sensible ones. Okay that comment I never voiced but someday I still might.

Over the course of half an hour we covered many topics like glee, musicals and fashion. Okay, actually I spoke about fashion and told her that what she was wearing was only acceptable if you lived in Antarctica and that was the only thing left in the wardrobe. Then I added that even then it was probably best to run the risk of catching hypothermia – mentally anyway. The one topic she failed to bring up though was this strange guy that seemed to pop-up out of nowhere.

The short drive to McKinley was passed by me listening to Rachel ramble on about how my bullying was getting out of hand and that I should see someone about it – which to me made it seem like I was the one doing the bullying rather than the other way around. The truth is, no one at McKinley ever knew just how bad my bullying had got; there was only one person I ever told but we're getting ahead of ourselves here.

As the school, or prison I should say, rapidly approached, ever muscle in my body tensed up yet Rachel failed to notice my hesitance – again. This is why I never told her because she could never tell just how unhappy I was at that miserable hell hole – would've said something else but I'll try to refrain from swearing to much in you diary.

I parked my car in a space on the far end of the school to avoid anyone recognising it as my car and trashing it. Rachel and I got out of the car and it was only then did I bring up the topic of this guy. We were halfway to the school when I plucked up enough courage to ask.

“So, who's that guy that you've been hanging around with?”

She looked at me puzzled for a few minutes before responding.

“You mean Blaine?”

She looked at me as if to say ‘God you are so fucking stupid' – sorry I did say I'll try not to swear too much.

“Yeah…I guess but who actually is he?”

Rachel looked as if she was annoyed and stopped me in my tracks.

“Look, I told you yesterday, his name is Blaine Devon Anderson and he is my…” She was cut off by the bell, “I'll talk to you later” she said before storming off.

Well, at least I actually knew his name even if I was told the day before. Hey, I was 16 then can you blame me from doing a double take?

I gotta go for now but I'll add more to this tonight bloody traffic jam has finally cleared, gotta hate New York – well actually I love it! YAY!

-          Love Kurt.