Kurt swung the axe with a grunt, wiped the sweat from his brow, and questioned his choices for what seemed like the hundredth time. He pulled a bottle from the pack slung low across his hips and pulled the squeeze cap up with his teeth, tilting his head back and squeezing a stream of water into his mouth. It was all he could do to swallow down the too-warm liquid without retching. But he grimaced though it. He needed the water. He was thirsty and dehydrated, his hair sweat-soaked. But most of all, drinking water gave him an excuse to pause in his labor. He gave the slender tree his best death stare, but the tiny notch from his axe didn't grow any larger on its own. With a sigh, Kurt tucked the water bottle back in his pack and picked up the axe once more.

“Hey, look, it's music man,” a derisive voice cried out. Kurt turned wearily and saw Dave, a bulky, dark-haired boy about his own age slapping the arm of his equally bulky, dark-skinned companion. “Look at him trying to use an axe like a real man.”

“Don't see no stage around here,” Dave's companion guffawed. Kurt tried to think of his name and all he could come up with was Adze or Axe. Kurt supposed he should know the names of his crew by now, there were only eight of them plus the two leaders. But it was only the third day, and Kurt really couldn't be bothered to cozy up to two guys who had already made it abundantly clear that they didn't like him and would gladly bully him at the first opportunity.

“His voice is so high, I bet he could just screech out some girly song and that teeny weeny tree would just wither away. What do you think, Az?”

“Yeah, it'd be easier for him that actually swinging that axe worth a damn,” Az snickered, giving Dave a high five as they sauntered past.

Kurt stared resolutely at the tree in front of him, the tiny notch in its side mocking him along with his two human tormentors. Lightning quick, at least three possible insults crowded his mind, all of them revolving around the fact that his own superior intelligence, cultural proficiency, and overall maturity insure this experience is simply a stepping stone to future greatness for him, whereas Dave and Az are obviously destined for unending manual labor.  But Kurt keeps these thoughts to himself. After all, Dave and Az are both carrying pretty lethal looking hand saws and the crew and it's leaders are spread out far enough in the woods that he's sure they could inflict some serious damage before anyone could crash through the overgrown brush to come to his aid. He thought back to the seemingly endless miles of winding mountain roads and unbroken expanses of trees they had passed when his dad dropped him off at base camp at the beginning of the week. He's pretty sure the nearest emergency room is at least an hour away.

Instead, Kurt focused all of his anger on the small tree. He mentally reviewed the steps Martinez had demonstrated earlier that morning as he spread his legs wider than his shoulders, moved his hands apart on the axe handle, raised it in one fluid motion over his shoulder, and slid his top hand down to meet the bottom hand as the axe plunged down in a satisfying swing and bit nearly all the way through the tree. Kurt smiled as the tree fell smoothly to the forest floor, and moved to the next sapling in the way of the designated path.

With three more trees down, Kurt felt a pang of hunger and reached for his phone to check the time. His pocket was empty and he sighed heavily. He had almost forgotten. No phones. No ipods. No electronic devices of any kind. Those were just some of the rules he had to agree to in order to get this summer job. Mr. Figgins, the camp director, lined up all thirty-two crew members on their first morning and explained that they were here not only to learn trail maintenance, but to experience nature to its fullest. He walked up and down the line of teenagers, collecting phones and other electronic devices for safekeeping in his locked office.

Kurt ignored his growling stomach. He had no choice but to wait for Schuester and Martinez to gather up the group and pass out their sack lunches. In the meantime, he placed the axe on the ground and picked up a small machete from the tool pile, then began hacking at underbrush. He still couldn't see any other members of the crew, but he could hear other axes, machetes, saws, and loppers as well as the murmurs of a few distant voices.

Later that day, sitting on the dirt, back against a tree trunk and legs stretched out in front of him, Kurt ate his sandwich and listened to Mercedes gush excitedly about the latest Beyonce single. Kurt smiled and agreed to sing it with her later that night, after they had a chance to shower and were given some free time before lights out at base camp.

Kurt was so grateful that Mercedes was in his crew. They had hit it off immediately at the orientation meeting on the very first day when both of them rolled their eyes at the final activity in a series of ridiculous ice-breakers. The two hadn't yet spoken, but when they were given a choice of partners for the last activity, Mercedes made a bee-line for Kurt from across the room. They ignored the guidelines of the activity and just chatted casually, soon learning that they shared both an interest in fashion and a love of music. When Kurt asked, Mercedes said there wasn't a glee club at her school just outside Chicago, but she did sing in the school's chorus as well as at her church. “Next year I want to start a band,” she confessed. “Something R&B, probably. I want to be on the radio someday.”

“A band is a great idea,” Kurt agreed. “I have my sights set on musical theater, though, so my goal for the coming year is to convince the principal that McKinley High needs to have a play. Rachel and I are in the Glee club, and we managed to drag my step-brother into it and some of his friends. But it's a pretty small group. And not very popular. I don't think we'll ever attract enough members to compete.”

“Rachel?” Mercedes asked. “Is she the tiny girl with the long dark hair and the high and mighty attitude?”

Kurt nodded. “The very one.”

“I figured you must know each other, what with all the sparks flying when you first walked into the room earlier today,” Mercedes said. “What's the deal with you two, anyway? I would have been thrilled to already know someone when I got here, even if we weren't the best of friends.”

Kurt had been shocked to see Rachel sitting primly, legs crossed at the knee, on one of the drooping sofas in the drab common room that first afternoon he walked in with his bag still slung over his shoulder, looking for the camp director to give him a cabin assignment so he could settle in. His mouth dropped open as he sucked in a shocked gasp. Rachel's eyes grew wide and she shouted, “Traitor!” at the same time Kurt yelled, “Liar!”

Kurt took a deep breath in an effort to contain his emotions. He was livid – absolutely infuriated – with Rachel, but he didn't want to blow a chance at friendship with Mercedes by raging like a maniac during their very first conversation.  He buried his head in his hands and started speaking, but lifted his head again when Mercedes pawed at his arm and protested that she couldn't understand his mumbling. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It's a long story.”

“Do you see a T.V. here?” she asked, with a perfunctory wave around the sparse room.

“Good point,” Kurt said. “Still, I'll give you the abridged version.” He briefly outlined their history first as rivals competing for singing parts and romantic interests, then as colleagues with a respect for each other's talent, and finally as tentative friends. “After all, neither one of us are particularly popular, so we don't have a lot of other options for friendships. And we share so many interests. She annoys the hell out of me sometimes, but I also love her. Most of the time. Not right now, though.”

After a pause he added, “I'm gay, by the way, if you hadn't already figured that out. “ Mercedes shrugged and smiled. Kurt continued to explain that both he and Rachel are interested in careers in musical theater. “We have the same dream college – New York Academy for the Dramatic Arts. It's incredibly exclusive. It only takes 20 students a year and it's rare they take two from the same high school. We both wanted to do whatever we could to strengthen our chances of getting in – ” 

“Can I interrupt you for a second, Kurt?”

“Sure.”

“What in the hell are two musical theater geeks doing at a camp out in the frickin' mountains building trails as a summer job? Wouldn't it be better to – I don't know – work at a theater or something?”

Kurt sighed. “Yeah, you'd think so. I really tried to get a theater job. I tried every community theater and theater-related organization within a two-hour drive of Lima, Ohio. I auditioned to sing at theme parks. I even applied for a singing waiter job. But we don't get out of school until the middle of June, and all those jobs were already snatched up by the college kids who've been out since the beginning of May.”

“But why apply to work for the Teen Environmental League? There sure ain't no stage here.” Mercedes said, her furrowed brow matching her perplexed tone.

“Yeah, the jocks on our crew keep reminding me of that,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “There is a reason, though. I did my research on NYADA. The dean of admissions, a Madame Carmen Tibideaux, is a big supporter of the environment. She gives a lot of money to the Sierra Club and she organizes groups of students to perform each year at the Hudson Riverkeeper's annual fundraiser. And there are pictures of her hiking, canoeing, and fishing all over the NYADA blogs. So I figured that having something outdoorsy and environmental on my resume would help me have a better chance of getting in. As long as I can get some theater stuff on that resume, too.”

“So you and Rachel decided to apply together?” Mercedes asked.

“Not exactly,” Kurt said. “Rachel had managed to talk her way into a singing job at a local coffee shop. I told her I was going to try to find an environmental internship, but they were as scarce as the theater jobs. At least if I wanted to get paid. And I needed the money. But then I saw this job advertised on Craigslist and decided to go for it. I told Rachel about it, but she urged me not to apply. She insisted that Madame Tibideaux didn't like the Teen Environmental League – that they were rivals to her beloved Sierra Club and that my plan would backfire on me. And I came so close to believing her, too. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to apply and when this was the only place I was accepted, I decided to give it a shot.” Kurt clenched his fists and pursed his lips together for a moment before continuing in a strangled voice. “I couldn't believe it when I walked in and saw her here. I did all that research, all that work –learning about Madame Tibideaux's interests and discovering that this job existed. And she was going to just take that from me, and lie to me. I guess her plan all along was to convince me not to go so she could get the job herself and make her college application more appealing than mine. I just – I can't believe her.” He looked across the room at Rachel, who was talking animatedly with a small Asian girl with glasses. “I thought we were friends.”

Mercedes took Kurt's hand in both of hers. “I'll be your friend, Kurt. I promise I won't ever hurt you like that.”

“Thanks, Mercedes.” Kurt smiled. “I have a feeling that friendships are going to be really important in this place.

The night after their fourth full day of trail blazing, freshly showered and sore muscles slightly soothed by the hot water, Kurt and Mercedes stood out under the stars on a paved area in the neutral ground between the girls and the boys cabins and sang a slowed down version of How Will I Know in harmony. They started out softly, both in an effort to not disturb anyone who already might be in their beds for the night and also as a way to preserve a rare moment of time alone. Not only was this Kurt's first experience spending weeks away from home, it was also his first experience with communal life. He worked in a group, ate in the group cafeteria at the same time as the entire group, shared a group bathroom with all of the boys at the camp and shared a cabin with a roommate. He never realized how much he craved moments alone – or even moments shared with one good friend – until almost all of them had been stripped away.

Kurt was so starved for time apart from the group that these few minutes singing under the stars with Mercedes heightened his senses. He felt giddy, almost high, with the freedom of it. He kept singing louder and Mercedes matched his swelling voice with hers, until someone yelled at them to knock it off and they dissolved into giggles, doubled over and holding on to each other to keep from tumbling to the ground. 

“Kurt, my man!” A voice barked out as a heavy palm clapped Kurt's shoulder with a sharp sting, causing Kurt to jump. He turned his head with a jerk and startled a second time at the proximity of the narrow, dark eyes of his roommate, Glen.

Glen was tall and lean and wore some variation of the same outfit every day: low slung jeans and tight-fitting tank top, his biceps textured, like a tightly wound braid of ropes. The day Kurt first moved his belongings into the cabin, Glen was already there, coiled on the opposite bed like a jaguar stalking prey. Kurt had smiled, waved awkwardly, introduced himself, and stuck out a hand to shake. Glen merely cocked his head and stared at him hungrily, never uttering a word. Kurt had felt chills run up and down his spine. After four days of sharing a cabin, these were the first words Glen had spoken to Kurt.

“Hey,” Kurt said nervously, peering up at Glen's steely, intimidating glare.

Glen draped an arm over Kurt's shoulders and pushed himself between Kurt and Mercedes. “Aren't you going to introduce us?” he asked, grinning at Mercedes and running his eyes up and down her body.

“Um, sure,” Kurt said uncertainly, taking a step back to regain some personal space. “Glen, this is Mercedes. We're on the same crew. And Mercedes, this is my roommate Glen.”

Glen's grin grew wider, and he slung his other arm over Mercedes' shoulder. “Mercedes, huh? You would look perfect leaned up against a luxury car.” Glen's grin grew wider and he stooped down to bring his face closer to hers.

Mercedes fixed him with a glare and stepped out from under his arm. “It was nice meeting you, but if you'll excuse us – ”

“Aw, come on, baby,” Glen purred smoothly. “That little pansy boy can't give you what you need.”

Mercedes cocked her head at him and frowned. “You don't know what you're talking about.” She stepped close to Kurt and linked arms with him. “Now please shut your disrespectful mouth and leave us alone.”

“Hey, I thought you were gay,” Glen growled at Kurt. “That's why I've got to keep you in line. Make sure you're not getting any ideas about sharing that cabin with me.” Kurt held his head high and tried to convey all of his disdain for his roommate with a single look. But he couldn't stop himself from flinching when Glen lunged at him, pulling back at the last minute with a laugh. “I don't buy it that you and Mercedes here need alone time. I think she should be spending some alone time with me. So what, now you want me to believe you're not into guys?”

“I do like guys, not that it's any of your business,” Kurt said tightly.

Mercedes snaked her arm around Kurt's waist and squeezed him to her side. Glaring at Glen she spat out, “He likes guys and girls. Haven't you ever heard of bisexual before?”

Kurt squelched his surprise and schooled his face into a neutral expression.

“So you two are really – ” Glen trailed off, glancing between them and making some abstract, yet vaguely lewd, hand gestures.

“Yes, we're together. For several days now,” Kurt said confidently, wrapping his arm around Mercedes' shoulder and pulling her close. “So back off.”

“To each his own, I guess,” Glen said, walking backwards a few steps and shaking his head before heading back toward the boy's cabins.

Kurt and Mercedes held their breath for a moment, but as soon as their eyes met, they erupted into giggles. “That guy is such a creep,” Mercedes exclaimed. “Thanks for helping me get rid of him. I hope you don't mind that I pretended to be with you like that.

“It's not a problem,” Kurt said. “He is a creep, though. It really sucks to room with him. You know, that's the first time he's ever actually spoken to me. He keeps trying to intimidate me with the silent treatment. And it was working pretty well.”

“Oh Kurt, I'm sorry. That sounds awful,” Mercedes said.

“Yeah, well maybe it'll be better now. I actually went to Figgins after the first night and asked if I could switch cabins.”

“What did he say?”

Kurt sighed. “He said no – said it would build character for me to have a challenging roommate. He also said he hoped I would be a good influence on Glen. And then he said the weirdest thing. About this job – this place – being a social experiment.” Kurt leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Did you know that half the people here are juvenile delinquents?”  

“I'm not surprised,” said Mercedes. “I how some of these slackers got into this program. I mean, the application was really challenging. It was almost as tough as trying to get into college. I really expected everyone here to be either a genius or some kind of ultra-environmentalist.”

Kurt laughed. “Yeah, me too. But you know, I asked Puck what his essay was about when we were in line for dinner yesterday. He said he didn't write an essay. His probation officer said he could either come here or go back to juvie.”

“Damn,” Mercedes breathed. “You and I had to write essays and work our butts off to get this job. That's so unfair. And how is it okay for us to have to work with kids who just barely escaped being in juvie?”

“I agree,” Kurt said. “The whole idea of this being a social experiment really scares me. Figgins said it wasn't just about mixing over-achievers with ‘troubled kids', as he put it. He also carefully selected applicants and recruited additional crew members to make sure there was a completely diverse blend of kids – urban and rural, poor and rich, straight and gay, conservative and liberal. And we're all from different parts of the country. I don't really understand it, though. Does he think the healing power of nature can help us forget all of our differences and get along perfectly or something?”

Mercedes looked around the empty paved area suspiciously, then leaned in close and whispered, “Maybe he doesn't want us to get along. What if the experiment is to see how long it takes before we crack and start beating each other to death with our hand tools?”

Kurt smiled indulgently. “As much as I love a good conspiracy theory, I don't think that's what he's going for. Especially since it would bring the wrath of dozens of angry parents directly onto his greasy head.”

“You're probably right,” she conceded. “But if I ever wanted to get a group of teenagers to crack, I'd do exactly what they're doing here. Force them to do hard labor in the wretched heat and humidity, deprive them of their music and anything fun, and put a bunch of saws and axes and rakes in their hands.”

“I know, it sucks,” Kurt said. “At least we have the movies to look forward to tomorrow.”

Mercedes nodded. Figgins and the crew leaders had been talking all week about bringing the group to watch a movie at the tiny theater in town. Every time someone complained or was slow to complete a work task or grumbled about having dish duty after a meal, the adults in charge reminded them that their celluloid reward would only happen if everyone continued to complete each chore with minimal complaint.

Every crew member was excited. By Thursday the chatter was a constant, frenetic buzz. They discussed options endlessly, with lots of trash talk. A few teens almost came to blows until they realized that two of the four films were playing at the same time and they could split the group between the romantic comedy and the action adventure classic.

Kurt and Mercedes hugged and parted ways for the night, not wanting to jeopardize the movie by getting caught outside after lights out.

As Kurt washed his face, brushed his teeth, and did his best to carry out at least some of his regular skin care regimen, he silently reviewed the pros and cons of the two movie choices. Having been deprived of any form of electronic entertainment for so long, the promise of a trip to the movies had taken on almost mythical proportions. Kurt wanted to choose the right movie to maximize his enjoyment. As he shifted fruitlessly on the narrow, lumpy bed, he could almost taste the buttery popcorn melt into his mouth as he imagined the delightful shock of cold air blowing through the vents in the theater For the first time since arriving at the camp, Kurt fell asleep with a smile curling his lips.

Friday night arrived and the excitement had risen to a fevered pitch. Breakfast, roll call, breaks, even work time were filled with chatter about actors and actresses, soundtracks, and favorite films. After dinner, the eager campers began to line up on the pavement in front of the vans, some pulling on the handles of the locked doors in vain.

Friday night was the first time Kurt started to think that maybe Mercedes was right in her conspiracy theory.

Just as the sun was slipping below the tops of the mountains, Crew Leader Sylvester marched out in front of the assembled teens, held a bull horn to her lips and bellowed, “Figgins has asked me to announce that there will be no trip to the movies tonight. Better luck next time.”

The stunned silence was quickly replaced by a deafening wave of protests. A few fights broke out. Kurt was amazed that the majority of the group made it to the next day unscathed.

Groups of disgruntled crew members stumbled about all weekend, their complaints forming a constant buzz, like a mass of disturbed hornets hovering, eager for a provocation to provide an excuse to swarm.

On Monday, Mercedes sits heavily on the pavement next to Kurt, waiting for roll call. “I'm tired. It's hot. I don't want to work,” she moaned. “It's not fair. We didn't even get to go to the movies like they promised.”

Santana stretched out across from them, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder. “I never thought the day would come that I would agree with Ms. Entitled Lazy-pants over here, but it has.”

“Preach,” said Artie, spinning a tight circle in his wheelchair and parking on the other side of Brittany. “I am just full of rage.”

“Yeah, fuck this shit,” Puck muttered, kicking at the ground. “If they can't deliver on their promise, why should we deliver with our sweat? Fucking heartless slave-drivers, all of them, expecting us to work in this heat.”

“Well, we are getting paid,” Brittany said flatly, but her words were nearly lost in the growing cacophony of angry shouts and grumbles spreading across the lot.

The crew leaders had gathered by the tool shed, watching the angry mass of bodies impassively as they waited for Figgins to emerge to conduct the roll call.

“We demand to be treated with respect,” the Asian girl with long, black hair yelled, her words washing over the general din as she stamped her foot forcefully.

“I have an idea,” Kurt shouted, rushing to explain it to those immediately adjacent to him who could hear. “I need your help to spread the word. Quick, before Figgins gets here.”

By the time Figgins ambled across the lot, all of the crew members were sitting, cross-legged on the ground. “Silence children, silence,” Figgins said loudly and the few murmurs faded away. “I will now take roll call. Please say ‘here' when I call your name. Artie Abrams?”

The only sound in response was the chirping of a blue jay in a nearby pine tree.

“Artie Abrams?” Figgins squinted into the group of teenagers sitting on the pavement, eyes focusing on Artie. “Isn't Artie Abrams the plucky wheelchair kid who shows amazing aptitude with a pair of loppers? I see you sitting there. If you refuse to work, we'll dock your pay for the day.” Figgins shuffled the sheaf of papers clutched between his hands nervously. “Tina Cohen-Chang?” Again, silence. “Tina, get up. All of you, stand up. It is time to work.”

Kurt looked up and down the rows of silent, sitting campers and beamed proudly. “Mr. Figgins, if I may?” he asked politely, raising his hand. Without waiting for a response, Kurt rose and continued. “This is an official protest – a sit-in. We are refusing to work because we feel it is unfair that you promised us a trip to the movies and then revoked it with no explanation. We are tired, we are hungry, we are bored, and we work hard. The idea of getting to see a movie was what got most of us through the heat and the boredom to do our jobs and to do them well. Taking that away is unfair. We will sit here and refuse to work until we have an explanation.”

“Hell, I ain't getting up until we have a guarantee we're going to the movies,” Santana yelled.

Kurt would later remember the conflict lasting much longer, but in reality, it only took a few minutes before Figgins, scuffing his heels against the pavement sheepishly, apologized for cancelling the movie trip and promised to take them that very night.

Cheap buttered popcorn had never tasted so good.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Kurt was perched on the sofa, legs crossed, trying and failing to lose himself in Gulliver's Travels, one of the few books on the dusty shelves in the common room, when Rachel approached him with a sheepish expression. 

“Kurt, may I speak with you for a moment?” she asked.

Kurt sighed. “What do you want, Rachel?”

Rachel's eyes grew misty and Kurt dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew she wanted forgiveness and if he didn't want to give in too easily, avoiding her large, wet eyes was crucial. “I want to apologize, Kurt,” she said. “What I did was so wrong.”

“You're right about that,” Kurt said bitterly. “I know that when I told you about this idea, I thought you already had summer plans that would help you with your application for NYADA. I didn't think you needed or wanted this. But I wouldn't have been angry with you for applying to this program if you were just honest with me. I mean, I can't believe you tried to convince me not to go and all the while you were applying to it behind my back.”

Rachel dropped lightly onto the couch beside him. “I know. I'm so sorry,” she said, looking into his eyes pleadingly. “Please believe me, I realize how completely horrible I was and I regret it every day. When I didn't get a singing job I just panicked and I was afraid. I wanted to have something on my resume that distinguished me from other applicants - including you. But I realize now that was so selfish and stupid. Really, we should support each other and help each other because the best scenario is that we both get into NYADA and go to New York together.”

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel held up her hand and continued. “And to prove that I have changed my ways, I used my one phone call allowed for the week to call Shelby and asked her to write a letter of recommendation for you.” Rachel bounced up and down on her toes, grinning widely, her voice getting higher and higher and faster until she was practically squeaking with excitement. “She said yes! As soon as we get home, she wants to meet with you so she can get to know you better and represent you in the best light. And then you and I are going to sing duets and post them to Youtube and we can include that in our application, too.”

Kurt smiled and opened his arms wide, wrapping them around Rachel as she fell into them. “Yes, Rachel. I forgive you. And thank you for calling Shelby for me.” He drew back so he could look into her eyes, his fingers still laced together at her back. “You really can be a good friend, when you're not stabbing me in the back. Think you can manage to not do that again?”

“Never again,” Rachel swore solemnly. “And as a further gesture of goodwill,” she pulled out of his embrace, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the other side of the room where a small group was playing cards, “I want to introduce you to some of my crew members.

Our crews have all been really self-segregated and it's silly. You and I can unite them because of our prior friendship. There are a few in  my crew who like to sing. Although none of them are as good as I am.” After a pause she adds, “I mean, as we are.”

Rachel introduced Kurt to Sam, a tall blond boy who immediately started speaking in a strange voice in what sounded like another language. His shoulders sagged when he noted Kurt's blank look. “I keep thinking there's going to be somebody here who appreciates a good science fiction character impression.”

“Sorry,” Kurt said genuinely, shaking Sam's hand. “But I do sing. Rachel said you do as well?”

“Oh, cool. Yeah, if they won't let us listen to music we can at least make some of our own, right?” said Sam.

Kurt nodded in agreement and turned to shake hands with Tina, an Asian girl with long black hair and a sunny smile. “Hey, Kurt. Rachel said the two of you go to the same school?”

“That's right,” said Kurt, “McKinley High in Lima, Ohio.”

“Ohio?” Tina said. “That's where Blaine is from. I don't really know the geography there. I'm from New Jersey. Is Lima close to your school, Blaine?” Tina asked the boy beside her.

“Yes, it's less than an hour from Dalton,” Blaine said. Turning to Rachel he added, “I wonder if our show choirs will ever meet up in competition. They tend to rotate which local schools are grouped together for sectionals each year.”

“You probably won't see us in competition anytime soon,” Rachel said. “Kurt and Finn and I are really the only members of our glee club. We get a few others drifting in and out sometimes, but I don't think we'll ever have enough members to compete. We don't even really have a faculty advisor.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Blaine said. “But there is definitely more to show choir than just the competitions. The Warblers – that's the name of our show choir – is a pretty big group. But it can be hard as an a capella group in school uniforms to compete with all the show choirs with musical backup and fancy costumes. When our competition season is over, we perform at nursing homes and shopping malls. Your club should try it. I can probably help you line up some gigs.”

“That's a great idea,” Tina said dreamily, smiling wide and leaning forward with her chin in her hands. “Blaine always has the best ideas.”

Rachel announced that she was going to take a shower. She then leaned toward Kurt, standing on her tip-toes and cupping his ear with her hand. Kurt was prepared for a whisper, but jumped a bit when she stage-whispered, loud enough for all of them to hear, “You should spend some time alone with Blaine. He's also gay.”

Kurt stood frozen in place, a burning blush painting his cheeks scarlet as Rachel skipped away with a wave, seemingly oblivious to volume of her supposed whisper. Sam cleared his throat and mumbled that he was going to see if he could charm one of the cooks to let him have an afternoon snack. Tina continued smiling at Blaine until Sam called to her awkwardly from across the room. She scowled in his direction and said goodbye to Kurt and Blaine, then trotted after him.

Kurt held a hand over his eyes to block Blaine from his vision and said, “Oh my God. I'm so embarrassed.” Suddenly a horrifying thought struck him and he lowered his hand slowly. “Please tell me that she didn't just out you?” He lifted his eyes to meet Blaine's gaze with trepidation. He expected to see embarrassment, anger or surprise. But instead, Blaine's expression is amused.

“No, not at all,” Blaine said, a hint of a smile dancing around his eyes. “I am out and proud. It's not a problem.”

“Still, this is pretty awkward, though,” Kurt said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  

Blaine reached out his hand and pressed his fingertips gently to Kurt's arm, Kurt felt his entire world narrow to the slight heat on his arm from those fingertips and he inhaled sharply. “No,” Blaine said. “It doesn't have to be. We both live in Ohio, we're both openly gay, we sing, we're here at the Youth Environmental League camp. We obviously have a lot in common. We can be friends, right?”

Blaine pulled his hand back, releasing Kurt's arm from his touch. Kurt let out the breath he hadn't realized he was still holding and nodded with a small smile. “Why don't you have a seat?” Blaine asked, indicating the now empty chair to his right. Kurt pulled the chair out and sat down. “I really admire your leadership skills at the sit-in,” Blaine continued.

“Thanks,” Kurt said, willing his resurgent blush away.

At dinner that night, Kurt and Mercedes sat with Rachel, Sam, Tina,  and Blaine and they agreed to practice some five part harmony before lights out.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Each day, the air seemed more oppressive. Kurt felt like he was breathing through hot, wet velvet. The air was so humid that his body remained sweat slick all day, but there was never a breeze to provide relief. The work was monotonous and exhausting. Kurt had been on pick-axe duty for days, fruitlessly stabbing at the packed clay soil in an effort to break its stubborn bonds for the shovel team. Their crew leaders, Schuester and Martinez, said the ultimate goal was an even, unobstructed, packed gravel trail snaking through the mountainside. But it was hard for Kurt to feel enthusiastic about that vision. All he could think about was those lucky bastards who got to walk along a nice, even, easy trail. Those jerks who would never give a thought to the labor that went into making their hike so pleasant. Just think about how great your biceps are going to look by the end of the summer, Kurt told himself whenever he thought he couldn't push his shaking arms over his head for another swing at the unyielding earth.

Another daily occurrence was that crew leader Martinez spoke dreamily about the upcoming backcountry hike. “It's the ultimate wilderness experience,” he said during the brief lunch break. Theirs would be the first of the three work crews to take the week-long trip. Carrying everything they needed to work, eat, and sleep, they would hike up a mountain and set up camp.

“It's so beautiful on top of the mountain,” Schuester added. “The view is amazing.”

The more he heard about the upcoming trip, the more Kurt looked forward to it. He hoped that they would climb high enough to reach cooler temperatures. He knew they would still have to work that week, but they would be maintaining existing trails by cutting down intrusive branches with loppers and hand saws. Compared to hacking a brand new trail through the wilderness as they had been doing, trail maintenance sounded positively relaxing. And although he wouldn't admit this to Mercedes, who complained bitterly about the looming week away from bathrooms, showers, and ready-to-eat food, Kurt was curious to learn how to camp in the wilderness. Martinez had explained that he and Schuester would help everyone pack appropriately for the trip and would show the crew how to set up a base camp, dig trenches for a toilet, purify their drinking water, and create delicious meals from lightweight, calorie-dense foods.

In fact, Kurt got more and more excited about the backcountry trip with each passing day. He was excited for anything to break up the monotony of trail blazing in the humid heat. But also, this grueling summer job had taught Kurt that while he still preferred the speed and excitement of a big city, he also greatly enjoyed the peacefulness of the woods.

But most of all, Martinez's enthusiasm for backcountry hiking was contagious. It probably didn't hurt that Kurt had a bit of a crush on him. Most of the crew leaders were only a few years older than the team of teenagers they led. And Martinez had a raw charisma and a rugged, handsome, leading-man look that reminded Kurt of several of his celebrity crushes. And crushing on Martinez was safe. It was like admiring the looks of a teacher or a movie star or anyone else that you were allowed to stare at periodically and admire, but with whom you had no possibility of ever needing to negotiate the murky waters of dating. The crew leaders might be close to the rest of the workers in age, but they thought of themselves as worlds apart. They had their own cabins and their own romances. And Kurt knew the crew leaders thought of their crew members as kids. He had overheard Scheuster talking about it with a willowy blond crew leader named Holly Holiday.

On Sundays there was a large block of unscheduled free time. Kurt wandered about the base camp, looking for his group of friends. He found Blaine, stretched out across a picnic table, eyes closed, soaking up the sun.

“That's terrible for your skin,” Kurt admonished. “You could get cancer. Or worse, wrinkles.”

Blaine smiled and sat up, shading his eyes with a hand at his brow before cracking one eye open. “Hey, Kurt. What are you planning to do with your free time today? I take it you won't want to join me in sunbathing?”

“Absolutely not,” Kurt said. “I don't even know how you can stand it. It's so ridiculously hot even in the shade.”

“Yeah, I am starting to sweat a bit,” Blaine said, hopping off the table and joining Kurt in a patch of shade from a tall oak tree next to the picnic area. “How about a walk in the woods? Maybe we can find a cool stream to stick our toes in.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Kurt said. “I hope we're able to keep track of the time. I have a feeling that Figgins won't be happy if we're late for dinner. But I'm totally lost without my phone. Sometimes I feel like we're living in the twilight zone when I don't even know what time it is anymore.” 

“Don't worry,” Blaine said, tapping the watch on his wrist. “I have us covered. Let's go.” 

They wandered the edge of the camp until they found a promising trail and headed off into the dense woods. Kurt breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the pine-tinged air. The path was narrow and winding, thick with tree roots and scattered rocks. Kurt and Blaine walked single file and remained mostly quiet, focusing on the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet and the occasional hammering of a woodpecker. After a few minutes, Blaine halted suddenly and Kurt almost crashed into his outstretched arm.

“Look,” Blaine whispered, pointing ahead of them and to the left, where three deer stood at attention, tilting their ears slowly, straining to pick up a sound. After a few moments watching the animals, Blaine and Kurt stepped forward again, and the deer tensed and turned, bounding out of sight into the woods.

Soon after that, the path crossed a bubbling brook. Just downstream of the path, a thick tree trunk lay across the bank. The two boys walked out on the trunk, shedding their shoes and socks to dangle their feet into the cool, clear water.

“I'm glad you rescued me from sitting in the sun,” Blaine said, kicking his feet back and forth in the water. “This is much better.”

“You know, you've never told me why you took this job,” Kurt said.

“I needed a summer job and I had already done the whole singing at theme parks thing. So I wanted to try something different. They had this listed at the career center at school and I love the outdoors, so I thought I'd try it. And it's nice to get away from home for a few months.”

“You don't board at Dalton?”

“No, it's strictly a day school. So yes, I'm stuck at home for the whole year,” Blaine said lightly.

Kurt cautiously asked, “Do you not get along with your family?”

“No, it's not that,” Blaine said. “I'm not really close with my brother, but he's a lot older than I am. He hasn't lived at home for years. I get along okay with my parents, too. But you know how it is. Sometimes it's nice to get away from all the strict rules and discipline.”

“Well, I can't say you escaped that by coming here,” Kurt said.

 Blaine nodded in agreement. “I definitely need to do a better job next time of picking something with a bit more freedom. What about you? Are you enjoying being away from home?”

“Not really,” Kurt said. “I really miss my dad. On the surface, we seem like such different people, but we are really close. My mom died when I was young, so the two of us only have each other.”

“I'm so sorry,” Blaine said.

Kurt waved the comment away dismissively. “It's okay. I mean, I miss her too, but it was a long time ago. I don't really think about it much anymore. Now it's just me and my dad.”

“Is your dad cool about you being gay?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah, you can say that,” Kurt said, looking into the distance and smiling. “I was so afraid to tell him. I thought he would kick me out or something. But it turns out my closet was a lot more transparent than I realized. He said he had known for a long time and he loved me just the same. It took a little time for him to get used to the idea, but now he even asks me if there are any guys I have my eye on.”

“And do you?” Blaine asked, looking searchingly into Kurt's eyes. Kurt noticed for the first time that Blaine's eyes were a warm, golden hazel. He had thought they were brown. He thought about Blaine's kind eyes, his rich laugh, his smooth olive skin, and the electric jolt of his fingertips whenever he touched Kurt's arm or his knee to emphasize a point while they talked. He and Blaine had so much in common and Kurt could easily see himself falling for his new friend. But he didn't want to jeopardize his friendship with the first openly gay boy he had met. And more than that, he really didn't want to be rejected. He had no idea how Blaine might feel about him. And surely he had other options. He went to a private school for boys, after all.

“Kurt?”

“Oh,” Kurt said, startled back into the present with the realization that he had spent the past several minutes staring into Blaine's eyes without answering his question. “No. Not really. Do you?”

“Maybe,” Blaine said enigmatically, dipping his foot into the water and drawing it back up to sit cross-legged on the tree trunk.

“Someone at school?” Kurt asked. “I mean, since we're the only two gay guys here – that we know of.”

Blaine turned his head away and huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “Right, of course.” After a moment he added, “By the way, we're not the only gay guys here. There's at least one more that I know of. He's not on either of our crews. His name is Sebastian. Have you met him?”

“No, I don't think so,” said Kurt. “What does he look like?”

“He's tall and has light brown hair that he wears swept up off his forehead. Green eyes.”

‘Oh yeah, I think I've seen him around,” Kurt said. “What makes you think he's gay?”

“Well, for starters he was hitting on me,” Blaine said.

“Oh my God, really?” Kurt exclaimed. “Are you – um- interested?”

Blaine laughed. “Not really. He's good looking and it was flattering, but he's a little – aggressive. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize the job. They are pretty strict about the rules. Even if they focus almost exclusively on heterosexual activities, I'm pretty sure that sex of any kind would get us kicked out.”

“I suppose you're right,” Kurt said. “Shall we walk some more?"

After a few more minutes wandering in the woods, they headed back to base camp with plenty of time to spare for dinner. Blaine continued toward the cabins to take a shower and Kurt strolled into the common room to look for Mercedes. He could hear the murmurs of laughter and conversation drifting through the walls. When he opened the door, however, more than a dozen heads swiveled in his direction and all noise stopped. The silence echoed in Kurt's ears.

Kurt straightened his posture and tried to ignore the stares and hushed whispers as he entered the room. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve this treatment here, but he was used to it at school, so after just a moment of hesitation, he began to walk further into the room. He held his head high and looked down his nose at the other workers, imagining them all laboring in the massive gardens of his future estate.

As he walked past Santana and Brittany, Santana held up a hand for a high five. “Wow, Hummel. I didn't think you had it in you.”

Kurt stared at her in silence, unable to fathom what she might be talking about. She left her hand raised in the air for a moment, then shrugged and dropped it back down, opening the magazine in her lap once more. “Whatever,” she said dismissively.

Mercedes rushed up to him and asked, “Where were you?”

“Blaine and I took a walk in the woods. Why?” Kurt asked, looking around the room. The chatter had started slowly up again, but most eyes were still on him.

Brittany tapped Santana's arm excitedly. “We should try it in the woods!”

“No, Brittany,” Santana said in a bored drawl. “We're roommates. That means we don't have to go in the woods. Besides, I have no interest in getting twigs and bugs in my hair.”

“What is going on. What are they talking about?

“Figgins called a mandatory group meeting during our break time,” Mercedes explained. “It was an hour ago. He did a roll call – ”

“And Blaine and I weren't here,” Kurt said, his face suddenly ashen. “Oh my God. I have to sit down. I feel sick.”

“I think you should go let Figgins know that you're back,” Mercedes said. “If you let him know right away, maybe he'll go easy on you.”

“This is ridiculous,” Kurt sighed. “What the hell was so important that Figgins had to cut into one of our rare longer blocks of free time with another meeting?”

“It was just something about the upcoming backcountry trips. Nothing important,” Mercedes said.

“Kurt, there you are!” Rachel yelped as she rushed toward him from the door to the common room. “I've been all over base camp trying to find you. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine, Rachel,” Kurt said exasperatedly. “I just went for a walk with Blaine.”

Puck, who was walking past, turned and said loudly, making air quotes with his fingers, “Oh, the two gay kids ‘went for a walk'. Is that what we're calling it these days?”

“Oh God,” Kurt moaned into his hands. Loudly, he announced to the kids lounging throughout the common room, “We just went for a walk. And talked. Nothing else happened. I'm going to go find Figgins now and tell him the same thing.”