Chapter One: Shove Me

It had taken the real threat of losing his Navigator for the entire summer to motivate Kurt Hummel to get into the truck with his father in order to drive down to the local swimming pool to sign up for lessons.  Burt Hummel loved his son.  He understood Kurt was terrified of the water. He understood where this fear came from.  But the bottom line was clear.  Without passing the district swim test, Kurt wouldn't be able to earn a high school diploma.  No diploma meant not attending university.  Not attending university meant Kurt would be stuck in Ohio where realizing his dreams would be impossible.

So five days into summer vacation, Burt walked up the sidewalk towards the pool office, where the director of Lima's Parks and Recreation services informed him the pool manager would be happy to assist them in finding the appropriate class for Kurt.  He'd phoned the previous day and made an appointment.  Pulling first one, and then the second glass door open, Burt gestured for Kurt to go ahead of him.  He noted sadly that Kurt's gaze never left the ground.

The first thing that struck Burt was the overpowering odor of chlorine, despite the pool being located outside.  Enclosed in the middle school's physical education building, the cramped office showed the ragged effects of the passage of moving 1200 children daily through its concrete walls during the 180 day school year.  Broken floor tiles.  A coffee stained ceiling clearly indicating a faulty roof.  An avocado green counter stretching across the room.  Behind the counter, a dividing wall that fell several feet short of the ceiling blocked the view of the rest of the office and the pool.

Voices could be heard from the other side of the pony wall.

“Where are the frozen grapes?”

“Those are my frozen grapes, Duvall.”

“But Becca, they're soooo good.”

“I don't care.  Bring your own snacks.”

“But you shared with Blaine yesterday.”

“She likes me better.”

“It's true. I do.”

“That's not fair.”

“Life's not fair, Jeff. If life were fair, this would be a fairy tale. I would live in a castle with a moat with an alligator named Al swimming in said moat.  Best I have is a goldfish.  A goldfish with no name.”

“Nemo?”

“Moby?”

 “Flounder?”

“We are NOT naming my goldfish. You three are going outside to take your lunch break.  I have an appointment coming in any time now.”

“Bec, I think someone came in the school entrance a minute ago.”

“And you didn't think to tell me that? That's probably my appointment.”  The same voice called out louder, “I'll be right with you.”

“Well, the grapes were calling to me”                                                      

“Outside.  Now.”

“But-”

“Becca-”

“Now.”

The noise of a door clanking shut came just as a young brunette woman rounded the dividing wall.  Hair pulled up in a high ponytail, she was decked out in the stereotypical lifeguarding uniform: red one-piece tank swimsuit, red shorts, red zip up sweatshirt, and red flip flop shoes.  Her silver whistle hung on a cord from her neck.  She greeted both Burt and Kurt with a warm smile.  “Mr. Hummel?”

Clearing his throat, Burt simply nodded while removing his ever present ball cap. 

Extending her hand, the young woman shook Burt's hand firmly.  “I'm Rebecca Michaels, the pool director.  I apologize for keeping you waiting.  We just cleared the pool from our morning lessons and the boys didn't mention hearing you come in.  I hope you didn't wait too long.  You mentioned on the phone that you were interested in enrolling your son in swim lessons?” Pulling out a large white binder from under the counter, she began flipping through the pages.

Burt glanced over to Kurt before looking back to Rebecca.  “Yeah. Kurt and I got notification a couple of weeks ago that he needs to pass a swim test to graduate.  He doesn't know how to swim.  So we decided that this is his summer project.  Learning to swim,” came Burt's soft explanation.

Rebecca glanced up from the binder to meet Kurt's timid gaze.  “You're Kurt,” she stated.  Seeing his nod of confirmation, she continued. “McKinley? Carmel? Thurston?”

“I go to McKinley,” he answered quietly.

“And you graduate next June?” she asked.

“Um, yeah.  If everything goes the way it's supposed to,” acknowledged Kurt.

“Excellent.” Rebecca passed a series of papers over to Burt.  “This is a schedule of the classes offered through Lima's Parks and Rec.  Also, you have an enrollment form and a waiver of liability.  I've also included the paper work for private lessons, which we can talk about while we're going over all of this.” 

Turning her attention back to Kurt, she took a deep breath.  “So, Kurt, I need to know about your swimming skills so I can find the best fit for you.  So please be honest with me.”

Burt watched Kurt roll his eyes.  “I don't have any swimming skills.  I can't swim.  It's kinda why I'm here,” Kurt scoffed.

Rebecca chose to ignore his condescending tone.  “Riiight.  I am aware of that.  It's something that your dad mentioned when we spoke on the phone yesterday,” she returned with a tone that clearly implied that she wasn't going to take any snark from the teen. “When was the last time you were in a swimming pool?”

Kurt swallowed hard, which did not go unnoticed by either Burt or Rebecca.  “I was six.”

Cocking her head to the side, Rebecca studied Kurt closely.  “What about P.E.? I know they have swimming units in all the P.E. classes at the local high schools?  You didn't use a pool then?”

“No,” came Kurt's swift reply.  “I refused to get into the pool.  I failed the swimming units in freshman and sophomore year – but I worked hard the rest of the time, so I managed to pass the classes anyway.”

“Okay.  If we were to go out to the pool here…” Rebecca hesitated, observing that just the thought of going into the pool caused Kurt to lose the color in his face.  His hands actually began to shake slightly.  She reached across the counter and placed her hand over his.  “If we were to go out to the pool, would you feel comfortable holding your breath and sitting on the bottom of the shallow end?  It's four feet deep there, by the way. You would be waist deep if you were standing.”

“Um…n.n.not really.  No.”

“That's fine, Kurt.  So you also wouldn't feel comfortable going out and putting your face in the water and blowing bubbles?”

Kurt shook his head tightly. “No. No, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that.”

Rebecca took her hand back and turned to Burt. “Mr. Hummel?  I'm going to give you several options and then you and Kurt can discuss what you think will work best privately.  Our classes offered through Lima Parks and Recreation are structured into small groups by ability level.  We offer classes for adults.  The problem… I'm sorry that was the wrong choice of words.  The difficulty we face with Kurt is that even those adults all have some basic swim skills.  They can hold their breath. Go underwater.  Most can front and back float.”

Rebecca ducked down below the counter for a moment, reappearing with another paper in her hand.  “Here,” she continued.  “This is a list of the descriptors of our swim levels.  What the student will be able to accomplish before moving up to the next level.  Given Kurt's answers to my questions, he qualifies as a “water adjustment” swimmer – meaning that the swim teacher would work primarily on making the swimmer comfortable in the water.  Once the students are comfortable in the water, they are then enrolled in classes actually designed to develop swimming skills.”

“Okay.  That seems reasonable,” offered Burt.

“Well, you see the difficulty is that all of our water adjustment children are exactly that – children.  I don't have a single one older than seven.  I can, as pool director, enroll Kurt in that level of class. But you're… seventeen?” she guessed.  Seeing Kurt's nod, she continued. “Your seventeen year old son will be in a class with five other kids who are four to seven years old.  If Kurt's comfortable with that, I'm happy to do so.

“Another option would be to enroll Kurt in private lessons with one of our instructors.  Points to consider: the group lessons cost $52 for 2 days a week for a four week session.  Each lesson is 45 minutes.  However, if you divide the 45 minutes by the 6 children in the class, you average a little over 7 minutes of ‘individual' time.  Private lessons run $120 for four lessons.  But, with the private lessons Kurt would get a full 30 minutes of one on one time.  The private lessons are more flexible as well.  Kurt and the instructor would be able to discuss when they could work together.  We can give private lessons during the normal swim lesson hours if we aren't teaching, but a lot of times we give them early in the morning, before the pool ‘opens' to the public, or during our lunch hour, or during open swim in the afternoon. Eventually, if Kurt wanted to do back-to-back lessons, he could have a one hour session, instead of just 30 minutes.”

Rebecca took a deep breath. “Please know I don't need an answer today, if the two of you would feel more comfortable talking at home about all of this.”

Burt looked over at his son for a long moment.  “Ms. Michaels? Money isn't an issue for us.  What would you recommend?”

“It's not really my place to-”

“Please, Rebecca.  If Kurt was, well, your brother, let's say.  What would you recommend to him?  To your father?”

“The private lessons,” she responded immediately.  “You'll see much more growth in his swimming, much more quickly with the private lessons.   Also, if it were my younger brother, well, I know he'd rather be caught wearing clothes bought at Kohl's or Target than in a class full of little kids.”  Rebecca couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the image.  “Kyle's thirteen.  Lives in California with my parents.  Just recently discovered boys.”  Kurt's eyes met hers briefly at that bit of information.  She winked at the teen.

Burt pursed his lips in thought.  “Thank you for your honesty, Rebecca.  Can I pay for eight private lessons for now?”

Kurt turned towards his dad in a panic.  “Dad? Dad, I can't do this,” he protested fiercely.

 “Look, Bud-”

“No, Dad. This is…this is ridiculous.  Shouldn't I have a choice? Isn't this America?  I don't want to expose my skin to the harsh chemicals of a public pool, let alone the pee and germs.  I don't want to expose myself to skin cancer because I've been out in the sun for too long.  If I want to keep my body covered up, protected, and frankly – dry, shouldn't I, at 17,   be allowed to make that choice?” Working himself into a frenzy, Kurt's voice got higher as his fear and frustration intensified.

Burt gripped his son's arm near the elbow to focus his attention.  “Kurt.  Graduation. College. New York.” Burt slowly emphasized each word.  “You can do this, Bud.  You can do anything you put your mind to.”

Kurt's breathing was becoming increasingly rapid and shallow and beads of sweat began to dot his forehead, despite the relatively comfortable temperature of the office.  Rebecca began to worry that Kurt would work himself up so far that he might pass out. 

“Mr. Hummel, Kurt, why don't the two of you come around the counter into our back office.”  Rebecca's invitation may have been phrased as a question, but her tone was insistent.  She took a firm grip on the arm that Burt wasn't already holding, and led Kurt to a leather chair near an oscillating fan.  “Sit, Kurt.  Put your head between your knees and focus on taking slow deep breaths for me.” 

Burt took a step back, leaning against a small refrigerator, as Rebecca worked at calming his son down.  Interestingly, for someone as adverse to strangers being too near him or touching him, Kurt wasn't flinching or shying away from Rebecca's touch.  She had one hand gently holding his shoulder as the other hand rubbed small circles on Kurt's back. 

“Mr. Hummel, you'll find some apple juice containers in the refrigerator behind you.  Would you take one out for Kurt?”

“I don't need juice,” argued Kurt.

“Shhhh,” soothed Rebecca handing Kurt the bottle.  “Humor me.  I know what it's like to have panic attacks, Kurt.  I had them frequently in college.  Apple juice always made it better.”

The door to the pool deck swung open just as Rebecca finished her sentence, and a tall, lanky, very blond young man walked in.  Dressed in baggy red swim shorts, sunglasses, and wearing a silver whistle, he was humming the theme song to Sesame Street.

“Dude, apple juice makes anything better.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes.  “Mr. Hummel, Kurt, I'd like to introduce you to one of my lifeguards – Jeff Sterling.  Jeff, this is Mr. Hummel and his son, Kurt.”

Jeff smiled brightly.  “Hi!” he said with a wave.

“Jeff is our resident thief.”

“Hey!”

“Come on, Jeffy.  I call ‘em like I see ‘em.  Just today you have robbed me of my frozen grapes, my sunglasses and I am positive that I would have remembered lending my zinc oxide to you.”

Jeff guiltily touched the bright pink ointment covering his nose.

It was apparent to Burt that Rebecca was only teasing the other lifeguard.

Jeff held his hands up. “Well, I could have bothered you, but you were clearly busy with more important things, so I decided to be proactive, and ‘borrow' those things – ‘borrow' not ‘steal' – because I knew that you were only going to say yes anyway because I am, of course, your favorite.”  Jeff gave a grin that the Cheshire cat would have been proud of.

“Point of order, Sterling.  We addressed this topic earlier.  My favorite is Anderson.  Oh, stop pouting.  You wanna be favorite? Don't take my stuff without asking.  It's really quite simple.  Now, what did you need? ‘Cause I also remember telling you to go outside.”  Rebecca straightened and moved to chair across from Kurt, slipping off her flip flops.

Jeff glanced at the ceiling, as he tried to recall the reason for his arrival.  “Oh, yeah.  What's the second verse to Sesame Street?  You know, the part after ‘Come and play, everything's A-Okay.”  He sang the lyrics without a hint of embarrassment.

Rebecca found herself pinching the bridge of her nose in amusement.  “Really? Really, Jeff?”  She heard Burt's low chuckle from across the room.

 “Well, you know…, like, everything.”                                                           

Rebecca shrugged.  “Not this time.”

A quiet voice interrupted.  “It's ‘It's a magic carpet ride.  Every door will open wide to happy people like you,” offered Kurt.

Jeff smiled at Kurt and in the next moment both Jeff and Kurt were singing the theme song to the children's show.  Rebecca met Burt's gaze and mouthed, ‘I love my job,' at him causing Burt to smile.

“Um…I hate to break up this amazing episode of American Idol, but we have 20 minutes until the afternoon classes start.  Where's Blaine?” interrupted Rebecca.

“Out on the diving board with Scott and Nick, practicing their dives.  Should I go get him for you?”

Rebecca shook her head.  “No.  Would you mind giving Kurt a tour of the locker room facilities and going over the facility rules?”  Glancing over to Kurt, she added “Is that okay with you, Kurt?  You can meet us out on the pool deck after.  I can do most things here, but I try to avoid the boys' locker room as much as possible.  Seeing as I'm a girl and all.”  She could see his small smile at her wry humor.

“Yeah,” he said standing up.

As they moved to the door to the pool deck where they would access the locker room, Rebecca stopped them briefly.  “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Kurt would enjoy knowing about the Secret Shadow List of Lifeguarding Supplies.”

Jeff laughed. “No problem.  So Kurt, let's go take the two minute tour of the locker room and then we can talk about how to avoid a head full of green hair.”

“Green hair?”

“Yup.”  Jeff leaned his shoulder against the glass door.  “My first summer working at the pool. Six hours a day, five days a week in the pool.  After two weeks, I looked like a leprechaun.  I'm totally serious.  Nick and Blaine still have the pictures in their phones.  Apparently, if you spend too much time in the swimming pool, algae can start to build up in your hair shaft.  So my mom, she's amazing, she found this swimmers' shampoo that totally knocked that problem to the ground.”

Jeff nudged the door open and continued his lecture, “So that was the beginning of the Secret Shadow List of Lifeguard Supplies. I can text you what shampoo, conditioner, lotion, sunblock and lip balm to use while you're here.  Knowledge is power.”

The door closed, shutting out whatever else Jeff had decided to share.  Burt pushed himself away from the refrigerator, and picked up the empty apple juice bottle Kurt had drained, tossing it into the garbage can.  “I can see you have your hands full,” he remarked with laughter in his voice.

“Sometimes, for sure.  But, I wouldn't have it any other way.”  Rebecca picked up a clip board holding papers and pair of sunglasses.  “Would you join me out on the pool deck, Mr. Hummel?”  Holding to door open, she followed him out.

 The pool office was adjoined on either side by the locker rooms: boys on the right and girls on the left.  A small concrete wall, perhaps two feet high, ran the length of the pool deck on the left while a three-foot chain link fence ran down the right.  There was an area with metal bleachers behind this chain link fence, where parents could watch their children while they swam.  At the far end of the pool deck and enclosing the bleacher area ran a normal sized chain link fence that overlooked the playing fields.

Rebecca led Burt towards an umbrella table tucked into the corner closest to the girls' locker room.  There was a second free-standing umbrella and an assortment of mesh and white plastic chairs scattered underneath both umbrellas.

“Have a seat,” Rebecca offered as she took a seat herself. 

“Nice set up,” remarked Burt, looking around the pool deck.  Three female lifeguards lay sunning themselves near the raised chair, halfway down the bleacher-side of the pool.  The boys seemed to have congregated down at the diving board, currently taking turns twisting and somersaulting into the water below.

Rebecca placed her sunglasses on and gazed down towards the boys.  Burt watched as a tanned boy, with a head of curly brown hair, vaulted off the board and spun in a somersault several times.  Unfortunately, he over-rotated, landing with a loud slap and large splash.  When he surfaced, Rebecca stood and called out, “Anderson! You've got to bend your knees more and jump up not out.”

Turning towards Burt, she added, “That's who I think you should have work with Kurt, by the way.”  She sat down and continued.  “I have eight lifeguards who work here.  Two of them – Jeff and Jordan, aren't allowed to give private lessons yet, because this is their first year lifeguarding.  Nick, Blaine and Meghan are my teachers who work primarily with the preschool and elementary age kids – so they have lots of experience with kids who don't feel comfortable in the water yet.

Burt nodded.  “Okay. But why this Blaine kid in particular?”

“Well, because he's Blaine.”  She paused for a long moment, clearly trying to articulate her feelings.  “He's started working here with me at 14 as a volunteer.  That was the summer he was going into to 9th grade.  He did two years as a volunteer, then passed his lifeguard test.  This is his third summer as a guard.”

“So he's gonna be a college student in the fall,” remarked Burt.

Rebecca seemed startled at Burt's observation. “Um, no. Actually he's going in to his senior year at Dalton Academy for Boys in Westerville.”  Seeing Burt's questioning glance, she hastened to add, “It's not really my story to tell. Blaine repeated his freshman year due to…some medical needs.  He's totally fine now, but that whole situation resulted in him losing a year of school.”

“Westerville's kinda far to travel for a job that pays…well, slightly above minimum wage would be my guess,” observed Burt.

Rebecca concurred. “Yeah, it would be.  But the boys – Blaine, Nick and Jeff stay with me during the summer here in Lima.  Jeff's older brother and I are getting married in October and we stay in their grandmother's house with her.  It's one giant ball of crazy chaos, but it means they keep more of their paychecks not paying for gas.  And Lima's Parks and Rec pays more than Westerville's.”

“So you know everyone here pretty well then?”

“We've all worked together for multiple years – everyone but Scott started out as a volunteer with me and worked their way up to lifeguard.  And yes, if it were my brother, I would choose Blaine.  Every day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

Glancing at the large clock hanging in the window of the pool office, Rebecca stood and raised the silver whistle to her mouth.  “Excuse me, Mr. Hummel.  She blew two quick blasts.  Immediately the lifeguards all moved into action.  Floating lane lines were dragged across the length of the pool and tightened into place.  Kickboards, swim noodles and diving bricks were placed in certain locations on the sides of the pool.  Two large buckets of swim toys were left at the shallower end of the pool. 

“Hey, Rebecca?” called Jeff as he emerged from the locker room with Kurt.

“Yes?”

“So is Kurt taking lessons from Blaine?  Can I introduce them?  Pleeease?”  begged Jeff.

Kurt cocked his head to the side, looking confused.  Reaching out, he caught Jeff's elbow briefly. 

Jeff glanced back at Kurt, and answered his unasked question. “I can't give private lessons until next year.”   Seeing a look of disappointment cross Kurt's face, Jeff hastened to add, “But I'd be happy to work with you unofficially any time during our open swim – when I'm not on duty.  And besides, you're gonna love Blaine.  He's the best, Kurt.”

Rebecca interrupted.  “Kurt, why don't you come sit with your dad.  Jeff, go grab Blaine.  You're working the desk this afternoon, and you need to be back there, ready to sell day passes for lap and open swim in 5 minutes.”

“Sure thing,” called Jeff as he jogged towards the deep end of the pool, where the guys were still moving heavy diving bricks and a dummy into place for the junior lifeguarding class.

Rebecca motioned for Kurt to take a seat.  “So, Jeff didn't scare you off?”

“No! no, he didn't,” blurted Kurt.  “He was really helpful.  In fact,” he turned towards his father as he added, “Dad, we need to stop by the mall on our way home.  Jeff was telling me about this store that sells swim shirts that will block the UVA and UVB rays.  And he had some suggestions about other things that I want to try out to protect my skin and hair.”

Burt smiled at his son.  “Not a problem, Bud.”

“You might want to watch this, Kurt,” offered Rebecca. 

Kurt turned his attention back to the pool where the four male lifeguards were lined up.  Without warning, all four dove into the pool and began swimming underwater towards the shallow end.  Kurt was amazed and anxious as they kept coming closer and closer, but hadn't surfaced yet.  “Don't they need to breathe?” he asked quietly.

“They'll come up when they need to.  Scott and Blaine will make it the furthest,” Rebecca explained just as Nick and Jeff broke the surface, just over halfway down the length of the pool. 

“How…h.h.how do they do that?”

“Practice.  And stubbornness.  Scott plays water polo at OSU, so he's in phenomenal shape.  He can go up and back on one breath.  Blaine's been practicing for years.  He wants to be able to do a full lap by the end of the summer.  Kurt, your dad and I talked, and I think Blaine will be a good fit for you.  But you need to know that if for any reason you don't feel comfortable with Blaine, you can let me know and we can switch to Nick or Meghan, or Scott, or even me.  I want you to know that you control that decision.”

“Thank you,” offered Kurt.  He would have added more, but that was the moment that the lifeguards -Scott and Blaine- breached the surface, inhaling deeply.  Kurt couldn't pull his eyes away from the tanned, athletic men, one of whom was, in a quick practiced motion, climbing deftly out of the pool. 

“Hey, Bec.  Jeff said you wanted me to meet someone?”  The young man who looked to be the same age as Kurt walked over to the umbrella table and snatched a towel off of a chair. 

“These are the Hummels.  Kurt needs some lessons.  I recommended you,” explained Rebecca.  She nodded towards Burt before wandering off to supervise the pool set up.

Blaine remained standing, gently wiping the droplets clinging to his head and chest with his towel.  Once he finished, he tossed the towel on to the closest chair and held out his hand to Kurt. 

“Hi. I'm Blaine.”