Chapter 2: Grok

grok |gräk| v. (groks, grokking, grokked) [with obj.] informal
understand (something) intuitively or by empathy.
*[no obj.] empathize or communicate sympathy; establish a rapport.

“Kurt, hi,” Blaine called with a smile, slipping into an empty desk near where the quiet boy was sitting. Other students were filing in, groups chatting amicably in indoor voices that generated a low hum in the otherwise silent classroom.

Classes at Dalton were small in comparison to the ones Blaine had attended at public school. So far as he could tell, most of them consisted of no more than fifteen to twenty students while others had as few as ten – giving the teacher more one-on-one time with each pupil. Gym class had by far been the largest with more than thirty boys in attendance, but that made sense: group sports were far more fun with higher numbers.

A week in and all in all, Blaine was liking it. The boys were friendly and polite, the teachers invested and enthusiastic, he was making friends again and had an audition scheduled with the Warblers for the following Thursday – really, he couldnt be much happier.

Before Blaine could attempt to strike up a conversation with the boy beside him, the teacher came in and called for their attention. She was a dark beauty of a woman with softly, elegant features and seemed to love her subject of choice. Blaine was rather taken with her – though not in the same fashion as some of the other boys in the class – and enjoyed her class immensely.

“Alright class, homework to the front and no excuses,” Ms. Chase announced turning to the blackboard and scrawling the word grok across it in graceful, chalky script. “Now, if you will turn to page 397...” she continued, waiting for the rustling to pass before taking up her own copy and reading aloud.

“Yes. Self. I must grok each cusp myself alone. And so must you... and so must each self. Thou art God.

I cant accept the nomination.

You cant refuse it. Thou art God and I am God and all that groks is God, and I am all that I have ever been or seen or felt or experienced. I am all that I grok.” Ms. Chase read aloud with calm passion and intensity. The conversation went on down the page, but she stopped there, closing the book, gaze sweeping over the class as they digested the passage. The subject was, to this day, considerably controversial – as was the whole novel, really – and he knew she was watching for reactions before she continued.

Several boys shift uncomfortably, glancing about the room or squirming in their seats. Blaine pegged them as coming from rather religious backgrounds where the talk of ones self as anything resembling God was tantamount to blasphemy. Even Blaine himself, non-religious as he was, found naming yourself God a bit unsettling.

“What is Mike trying to tell Jubal about grok?” she asked finally, still looking from boy to boy as if working through a game of eany meany miney mo. “Hes said the word countless times during the course of the story, but here hes implying that there is more to it, more than just understanding or comprehending. And not necessarily sex. Although, yes, sex is shown to be part of it.” She admonished knowingly to a smattering of titters. “Anyone? Mr. Hummel,” Ms. Chase said with a nod and a smile.

“Its connection, a deep understanding,” Kurt said softly, drawing Blaines startled attention. His voice was high and lilting like a delicate bird who had learned to form words and occasionally deigned to speak them rather than sing. “Its the idea that once you understand, once you grok something to fullness, you are connected to it – be it a person or an object, a concept or an experience. It becomes part of you and you part of it, intimately and irrevocably, because grokking is mutual – a communion, if you will.”

“Wonderful,” the teacher said approvingly. “Thank you, Mr. Hummel. Yes, to grok is to understand something so deeply a connection is made. When Mike links the grokking to God, hes implying that all things are connected and each connection builds on the next, unifying all things – in this case, God symbolizes unity. Its that because you grok something, if I grok you, you grok me and I grok all you grok and you grok all I grok and all you grok groks me and all I grok groks you, and so on.”

Befuddled, the sentence whirled in Blaines mind, making sense and yet confusing him in the same instant. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the ever spiraling groks from his mind. Ms. Chase seemed pleased, an amused smile stretching her lips gently across her face as she turned her attention back to the class as a whole.

“Your assignment,” she instructed, ignoring the small chorus of groans. “Is to come up with a one page paper, which you will present in class tomorrow, discussing the relevance of grok in your lives and describing what issues grokking could resolve for you. For the remaining time, work with a neighbor to brainstorm your topics.” A small cheer went up, but Ms. Chases eyes narrowed. “This is not an excuse for gossip and chit chat, so stay on subject.”

With that, Blaine had no trouble. It was, after all, the perfect subject for him – probably for a great many boys here at Dalton as well. He already had an idea of what he wanted to write, but there was no way he was going to miss out on an opportunity to try and speak to Kurt.

Blaine turned, a bright and friendly grin stretched across his face. “So, any ideas?” he asked with genuine interest.

Kurt himself looked uncomfortable, glancing up from beneath his artfully shaggy bangs while attempting to shrink back into himself. Blaine wondered just what Kurt had gone through that he immediately responded to an innocent question in such a way. It obviously wasnt kindness, he figured and continued to smile as honestly as possible.

Truth be told, the reaction was saddening. No one should feel the need to defend themselves when asked a harmless question, yet here was Kurt, all but sinking into his seat in an effort to evade the presence beside him.

“I was thinking of writing about how grokking could engender an acceptance in those who seek to persecute others for being different,” Blaine offered when no response was forthcoming. It proved to be the wrong thing.

Kurts eyes narrowed, his face shuttering and going cold. “What do you know about it?” he hissed harshly, sitting up ramrod straight, hackles raised. It reminded Blaine of a cat, fur raised and spiting fury. After a moment, though, Kurts words seemed to catch up with him and the color drained from his face so quickly Blaine was afraid hed faint.

“Nothing, I mean, I--” Blaine began, hands raised in an effort to placate. Another miss-move it seemed as Kurt flinched and tumbled to the floor with a thud. The ensuing scramble drew the attention of the rest of the class as Kurt fought to free his legs from his chair and climb to his feet.

“Just leave me alone!” he cried and fled the room.

Blaine blinked in confusion. Never had someone reacted to him in such an extreme way.

“Mr. Anderson?”

His shoulders sagging in defeat, Blaine turned to look up at Ms. Chase. “I wasnt-- I just...”

“Its alright, Blaine,” she said gently. Her hand found its way to his shoulder and squeezed. She might have thought it was, but it wasnt. It really wasnt. “Im sure Jeffrey and Caleb wouldnt mind discussing their ideas with you.”

“Yes, maam,” he sighed. Wes was going to kill him.

~o0o~

“So I hear you had a fun and exciting day in English class,” Wes commented sarcastically as he stopped beside the table Blaine had claimed in the student lounge. His dark eyes were unreadable, but there was no anger present in his visage so Blaine counted himself lucky for that.

“Yeah,” he replied with a heavy sigh, dropping his eyes and spinning his coffee cup between flat palms dejectedly. Blaine really hated disappointing people. Wes might not be angry, but the bland expression didnt preclude disappointment. And Blaine wasnt ready to see that. It didnt matter that hed known Wes barely twenty-four hours: he was someone Blaine respected, someone who had placed faith in him, and the first thing he had done was muck it up.

“Want to tell me about it?” The offer was made with such sincerity that Blaine jerked his head up, eyes wide and bright with surprise. Wes chuckled. “Relax, Blaine. Im not going to berate you. No one could have predicted that Kurt would react that way. Hes always so meek and avoidant.”

Like hes been beaten down time and again went unsaid, but simmered there between them.

They were both silent for a moment, considering the scenario. It was true. No one knew Kurt, not really. The teachers probably had a fair idea of what he brought him to Dalton, but the students... Kurt never talked to anyone. He seemed more like an apparition than a person, there but not really.

Only he was a person, one with whom Blaine desperately wanted to make things right.

“I wasnt expecting you to become buddy-buddy with him on the first go,” Wes said, breaking the drifting silence. “Or the second. Maybe not even the third. But you did succeed today, even if you dont realize it.”

Confused, Blaine frowned. How in the name of all thats Holy did Wes count that mess a success? To Blaine, it was an utter failure. Absolute and unequivocal. “What do you mean? I practically gave him a panic attack. He flew from the room as if the bats of Hell were on his heals! In what world is that succeeding?”

Wes merely smiled, giving Blaines arm a conciliatory pat as if to say youre young and naïve and I pity you for it . “You got him to say something that wasnt a response to a teacher,” he pointed out.

Blaine groaned, then paused. It was true. Even if it had been bitter and defensive, Kurt had spoken to him. It might not have been easy conversation or even banal discussion of the assigned topic, but there had been words. Words Kurt apparently hadnt shared with anyone else in the time hed been there.

“Im his prefect, Blaine,” Wes pointed out. “And he barely acknowledges my existence, let alone speaks to me. Not good morning or even excuse me. Regardless of whether it was in panic or anger, hes said more to you today than he has to anyone who wasnt an adult in the entire time hes been here. That has to count for something.”

“Even if those words included leave me alone?” Blaine asked disconsolately.

“Yes, even then,” Wes grinned. He sobered after a moment, a considering look crossing his face. He had just opened his mouth to comment when Jeff flopped down in the open chair between them.

“Meow!” he crowed, grinning broadly brushing disorderly blond bangs from his eyes. “Kitty cat has claws! Whod have thought? Ffft hiss! Blainey-boy better watch out or kitty might scratch up his pretty face, then where would he be? It was actually kind of ho–”

Jeffs head jerked as Nick walked by and smacked the back of it. “I dont see what concern that is of yours, Jeffrey,” he snapped, settling himself across from Jeff.

“It is when Blaine might be mauled!” Jeff protested, brown eyes quivering in distress. His overblown attempt at puppy-like innocence was completely lost on Nick, who scowled.

“Jeffrey, do yourself a favor and shut up before you dig yourself any deeper,” Nick hissed, taking his own seat at the table.

“But--”

“Children, please,” Wes cut off Jeffs protest with a look he typically reserved for those he considered most daft. “Jeffrey, your comments are insensitive and unbecoming of a gentleman of Dalton.”

“Occasionally, Im callous and strange,” Jeff mumbled, somewhat contrite though a smirk lingered at the corners of his mouth.

Nick kicked him under the table.

“Ow!”

Despite his dour mood, Blaine chuckled. It was hard to hold onto his melancholy when Niff, as hed heard them called, was around. The pair certainly were a source of never ending entertainment.

“If you two could stop flirting for a half a moment,” Wes commented dryly, gazing with disdain on the scowling match that was developing – and earning himself a pink tongue from the more immature of the two. “Blaine and I were having a conversation.”

“Sure, converse away!”

“Alone.”

“But I want to talk to Blainey too!” Jeff whined earning himself another kick. “Damnit, Nicky, that hurts!”

“Jeffrey.”

“Fine, fine!” Jeff huffed, standing. His chair shot back dramatically with a screech across the marble floor. “I can see where Im not wanted. Cmon, Nicky, lets go to our room and have our own alone conversation.”

“Is that what theyre calling it these days?” Wes teased with a roll of his eyes, though he was smiling at Jeffs antics even as the boy stuck out his tongue again and looped his arm through Nicks to drag him away.

It was a good thing Nick had already stood, because Blaine was certain if he hadnt Jeff might just have dragged him off, chair and all.

Wes shook his head. “Those two will be the death of me. Im sure of it.”

“At least youll die laughing?” Blaine offered, chuckling softly at his own joke.

“That I will,” Wes agreed. “So are you ready to tell me what happened with Kurt?”

~o0o~

Blaine stood out of sight as Wes knocked on Kurts door later that afternoon. It wasnt that he was afraid of Kurts response to seeing him, not at all. It was more along the lines of not wanting to give the him any more reason to be upset or throw him into another panic.

There was a certain fragility to Kurt that was unmistakable. From the way the prefects and teachers offered him only the gentlest of smiles or spoke to him with carefully chosen words, to the obvious reaction hed had to Blaine during class. Something was not right in Kurts world and if Blaine wanted to get the other boy to warm up to him, he would have to tread lightly.

The more he looked at the situation, the more Blaine realized it was a mistake to just jump right in like that. To suggest a topic that, for some people, might be considered a trigger. A topic he now knew was one for Kurt. Whatever the cause, he had obviously closed himself off to those around him, not saying an unnecessary word to anyone, period. It had been silly of Blaine to think he could waltz in and change that.

Only, he had. In a way.

What difference it made, he didnt yet know, but Kurt had spoken to him – practically bitten his head off, but there had been words nevertheless.

“Hi, Kurt,” he heard Wes say from his place a few doors down. “Ms. Chase told me what happened in class today and I just wanted to check on you and see that you were alright.”

Blaine imagined perhaps a nod or some kind of stare, though no verbal response was forthcoming. Maybe Kurt glared at Wes heatedly, scowling and crossing his arms over his chest, pursing his lips. Or maybe the fear was there, the nervous expression like after Kurt had realized hed snapped.

“Im glad,” Wes continued, obviously satisfied with whatever non-response Kurt had given him. “Blaine wanted to apologize, but he was worried seeing him would make you uncomfortable. Hes truly sorry. It was never his intention to upset you. Hes a really nice guy and just wants to be your friend.”

What was Kurts reaction to Wes words? Skeptical? Pleased? Nervous? Uncomfortable? Blank? Did he smile at Wes or frown? Did his eyes widen in surprise or narrow in distrust? Did he quirk his mouth to the side, bite his lip? The silence allowed for untold amounts of possibilities and Blaine couldnt bring himself to peek around and see – afraid that instead of any number of acceptable expressions, instead hed find Kurts face stricken as it had been before.

Blaine never wanted to see that blind panic painted across Kurts elfin features ever again. Even the blank stare from the previous night was preferable. Sure, hed rather see what Kurts face looked like when lit up with elation or soft in sleepy contentment--

Blaine stopped himself. Bad Blaine, dont go there , he told himself firmly. Just because Kurt was beautiful...

He stifled a groan, mentally kicking himself. This was not the time to be developing an attraction to some boy. Especially not some boy who may well be a bit more broken than Blaine himself. And most especially, some boy who happened to be Kurt.

“You should give him a chance to explain, it might surprise you,” Wes was saying, confident and sure that his belief in Blaine was well placed. “Anyway, I wont keep you. Have a good night, Kurt.”

The door shut and Blaine wrenched himself from his hiding place – okay, it wasnt so much a hiding place as a just out of sight place, but still.

“So?”

“Let it lie for now,” Wes declared, his mouth twisted as if he were considering deeply how to phrase his next words. “I dont think the direct approach, even from you, is our best course of action. It was a good try, but I think... I dont know what I think.” Blaine didnt like the defeated sigh Wes let out or the frustration that colored his face sour. “If we knew more, it wouldnt be so much like walking on eggshells. But unless something big happens, I dont see him opening up and telling anyone any time soon.”

“He did speak to me,” Blaine pointed out, reminded Wes of his earlier statement which earned him a raised eyebrow. “Okay, he all but yelled at me, but it could be a starting place. My suggestion of discussing how understanding could breed acceptance struck a nerve. Theres something there – what exactly Im not sure – but maybe if I show him that I do understand, at least to some extent, he might be receptive. You said hes openly gay, right?”

Wes nodded. “Its listed on his dorm application. The school only asks to better place students. Its not a segregation thing,” he defended quickly, even though Blaine knew the applications asked for sexual preference for placement purposes. After all, hed had to fill one out himself. “They dont lump all the gay students into one wing. Although East Wing does probably have the majority, but thats because East is where they put most of the students who come to Dalton for safety. Would you feel safe in West? There are no private rooms there and most of the boys in that Wing are jocks. Even if theyre Dalton men, even if theyre nothing like the guys who hurt you, would you feel safe there?”

“No, I suppose I wouldnt,” Blaine agreed.

“As for openly, well, I only have the fact that he placed it on his application to go on, but Id say hes out.”

Wes appeared ill at ease. He abhorred gossip, something Blaine had already figured out, and it was obvious that he was torn between helping Kurt and the sick feeling it must have given him to be speaking about the boy behind his back. Not that it would stop Wes from his goal, but it obviously disquieted him.

“Were just trying to help him,” Blaine pointed out. “We cant help him if we dont know anything.”

“I know,” Wes sighed. “Doesnt make it feel any less wrong to be sharing his personal information with someone. Those files are given to the prefects to help us best look out for our charges. Not for us to go popping off about kids behind their backs.”

“How about we talk about me instead?” Blaine offered, ignoring the kid comment and giving Wes a grin. “I think I have an idea.”

~o0o~

“Ms. Chase?”

Blaine shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the teacher looked up from the papers she was grading. It was his free period and hed spent a good deal of it dithering over the essay he was writing for her class later on in the day.

Hed felt bad that Kurt had run off after the previous days class and had changed his mind about writing a paper on homophobia - in essence, he chickened out. But after talking to Wes, Blaine was determined to do something to make things right and he hoped returning to his original concept was the way to do that. Sharing himself, his story was a calculated risk. It could go badly with Kurt. It could go badly for him. He would sink or he would swim, but either way hed do it being true to himself and his beliefs.

“Mr. Anderson, what can I do for you?” she asked, setting her red pencil down and clasping her hands in front of her. The way she gave Blaine her full attention made him smile.

“I, uh, I wanted to ask you. I know we turned in topic choices at the end of class, but I was-- well, I wanted to change mine. What I gave you was safe and not as important to me as what I wrote instead and well--”

“Blaine,” Ms. Chase said gently, interrupting his rambling monologue. “Thats fine, Blaine. I dont mind. In fact, I encourage students to write and discuss what theyre passionate about. Id much rather see you write a paper about something important to you than to try and force you to mold your words and thoughts into a box of someone elses creation or to discuss something that matters less to you.”

Oh yes, Blaine liked her. He liked her very much. “Thank you!” he piped, shoulders sagging in relief.

She smiled at him. “Dalton is in the business of educating young men, not molding them. Some might think those ideas one in the same, but theyre not. Though neither are they mutually exclusive. We want our students to think for themselves, my job is to give you the tools to do so. Im not going to tell you no, you have to write what you gave me because that doesnt teach you anything but submitting or settling. Im not here to raise sheep. If you want to be brave, to rise above the flock, then who am I to stand in your way?”

Returning her smile, Blaine thanked her again and headed back to his dorm room to finish the essay. And if his step was a little bouncier than it was before, there was no one around to comment on it.

~o0o~

ORAL REPORT the board read in large, cursive letters cause a scattering of groans to go up around the room as the students took notice.

Blaine had been prepared for it, welcomed it, hoped for it even – a small grin lighting his face upon seeing the usually dreaded words. If things went well, Kurt would understand that Blaine understood, that he was sorry for the previous day, and maybe – if all went well – it would be a move toward making Kurt realize that, Blaine at least, wouldnt judge him. And if the boys of Dalton proved to be the men Wes claimed them to be, perhaps it might also prove that Dalton was the safe place it touted itself as.

“Quieten down, class,” Ms. Chase insisted, never raising her voice but speaking with a firm authority. “Weve sixteen reports to get through and only seventy-five minutes to get through them in. Well go alphabetically. Mr. Adams, if you will start us off.”

Blaine listened to the boy – Victor he thought – describe his dyslexia and the common misunderstanding that he was stupid because his disability made numbers confuse him and words were difficult to spell. Victor spoke about how hard he had to struggle to spell words the rest of his peers took for granted and how if they could grok the difficulty he faced, then maybe they wouldnt be so quick to judge him for his disability and instead for who he was as a person and the thoughts he had that he just couldnt put to words. It was moving and honest, something Blaine knew hed never have encountered in public school where image was more important than being true to ones self.

“Thank you, Victor,” Ms. Chase said kindly as the boy retook his seat. Blaine was surprised that she didnt offer any other words or comments, but he was relieved to know whatever criticisms she might have, Ms. Chase didnt share them with the class. “Mr. Anderson.”

Taking a deep breath and putting on his performance face, Blaine moved to the front. “Hi,” he greeted the class with a smile. “Im new, so most of you dont really know me. Or the reason I came to Dalton mid-year.

“For those of you who dont know, Im gay. I came out last fall, a few weeks before Thanksgiving Break. Things seemed to go fine, no one was overtly antagonistic about it – mostly just a few slurs and whispers – but I did lose a few friends over it. I didnt figure it was a big deal, it showed me who my real friends were and if the others couldnt deal with me being gay, that was their problem.

“Not too long after, there was a Sadie Hawkins dance. I really wanted to go so I asked a friend of mine, the only other out boy I knew, to go with me. Just friends who both happened to be gay.

“I knew some people were reticent to talk to me, but I didnt think much of it at the time. I wished later that I had paid more attention. Maybe if I had, I would have thought twice about asking the only other out boy at the school to go with me. Maybe I wouldnt have gone at all.

“Instead I went, with Cody, and I had a wonderful time. We danced, we had punch, it was fun. Then, while we were waiting for his dad to come pick us up these three guys came up and beat the living crap out of us. I remember them throwing insults and slurs at us, calling us fags and homos and anything else nasty they could come up with. After that though, I dont remember a thing.

“When I woke up in the hospital a couple days later, my parents told me what happened. They told me how Codys dad had arrived and run the jocks off. They told me how lucky Cody and I were that we werent hurt worse than we were – what they meant was that we werent dead. And they told me, unless Cody or I knew who they were, no one could ID our attackers. It was dark and we both had taken blows to the head, all we knew was they were big, bigger than us.”

Blaine paused, taking a deep breath and feeling himself shake with controlled rage. “They beat us up and got away with it,” he hissed.

“Ive thought a lot about how I felt afterward – which was mostly crappy and sore at first,” he offered the class a self-deprecating grin to break the tension, eyes roaming over their faces, lingering briefly on Kurt. “Then there was the anger. Not just at what had happened, but that they got away with it. Sometimes, Im still angry about that – mostly because its just so unfair and Im afraid theyll do what they did to me and Cody to someone else. Then there was the guilt: if I hadnt been so brazen, if I had paid more attention to the change in the social climate, if I hadnt asked Cody to go with me, it could have all been avoided.

“Ms. Chase asked us to think about what grok means to us and what issues grokking could help resolve in our lives. I kind of figured grok was pretty clear: understanding so deep that you cant help but accept it because it becomes a part of you and you a part of it.

“If those boys had had any understanding of me, of what I am, of the fact that Im no different from anyone else around me just because the person I will love will be of the same gender as me... if theyd grokked that fact even a little bit then none of this would have ever happened. Not to me, not to Cody, or Matthew Shepherd, or any of the countless others whove been abused or bashed or murdered because of their preferences. We wouldnt have need for hotlines like The Trevor Project or groups like PFLAG. We wouldnt be fighting over legislation to grant gays the right to marry. I wouldnt have anger and regret and hurt over taking a friend, a boy, to a dance.

“Prejudice is ignorance. Bullying, bashing, and any other kind of hate is out of ignorance. Out of lack of understanding. If people grokked one another, much of the hate that fuels human history – not just the hate directed towards the LGBT community – would be a non-issue and, well, I wouldnt be standing here before you,” he shrugged. “And as much as I like Dalton so far, I wish that I didnt need to be here. I wish others would grok that our differences should make us stronger, not tear us apart.”

When hed finished, Blaine swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and headed back to his seat. He felt tense, like his skin was too tight for all that was writhing beneath the surface.

“Thank you, Blaine,” Ms. Chase breathed, tears in her voice though none fell from her eyes. “Mr. Beech.”

Kurt was still beside him, face forward and eyes downcast, hands tightly gripping the notebook before him. It was impossible to tell if Blaines speech had made any kind of impact, but at least the anger and panic from the previous day hadnt returned. Instead, Kurt looked thoughtful, introspective.

Time would tell.