Kurt Hummel was the HBIC (Head Bitch in Charge) at McKinley High School. He was the head Cheerio and every student – and even some teachers – did everything he and his girls Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce said. Kurt had so much power at McKinley, in fact, that no one even got down on him for being gay or in glee club, both of which were offenses that would have awarded lesser beings daily Slushie facials.

Yeah, Kurt Hummel had a pretty good life.

"You see the new kid?" Santana asked as she sat down next to him at lunch (which was really just gossip time for them – they couldn't afford to gain even an ounce of weight this close to a competition).

"Hello to you, too, Satan," Kurt said coolly, looking at his best friend. "But… what new kid?" he continued, needing Santana's dish to fuel his rapidly depleting gossip supply.

"Not much of anything, really. He's a junior, but he's taking, like, all senior classes. Guess he's like some sort of genius or something. Like Stephen Hawking, minus the wheelchair."

Kurt leaned back in his chair, already bored of the conversation. "So there's another bottom feeder at this school. Not seeing your point."

"I also have it on good authority," she added, "that he's on team gay."

"And…?" Kurt prompted. "I have a boyfriend, Satan."

Santana shrugged. "Eh, sometimes it doesn't hurt to have something on the side. Especially a virgin something."

"How do you know this guy's a virgin?" Kurt questioned, ignoring the fact that Santana had suggested he cheat on his boyfriend, which he would not do.

"See for yourself," she said flippantly. "He just walked in." Kurt looked over his shoulder and didn't have to search very hard to find this new kid.

He was shorter than Kurt by about four inches and had dark hair slicked back with gel. His eyes were magnified by thick, black-rimmed glasses and his outfit – crisp white shirt, emerald green cardigan, black bowtie, pressed khakis, and dark dress shoes – was something Kurt wasn't sure even his grandfather would be seen wearing. Attractive to a point, but so not Kurt's type.

"What a loser," he commented, turning back around, his girls nodding in agreement like they were supposed to. Kurt took his compact out of his bag and sneakily continued to watch the new kid, who was now glancing around the cafeteria, looking for somewhere to sit. Good luck with that, Kurt thought.

You see, McKinley was a cliché high school, complete with cliques and everything. Kurt, Santana, Brittany, and all the other cheerleaders were at the very top, with the football players on the rung below them. All the other students were on lower and lower rungs until you reached the very bottom where the kids like this new kid resided. The social ladder at McKinley was a hard one to climb and Kurt was one of the very few who had fought their way to the top – the chances of this nerdy transfer kid doing the same were slim to none.

"Kurt!" Santana's voice pierced the air and Kurt snapped his compact shut, closing the new boy out of his mind.

"What?" he snapped in what the students of McKinley had dubbed his Bitch Voice. It was a voice that pretty much guaranteed he got whatever it was he wanted at the time.

"Don't use that voice with me, Hummel. You know it'll get you nowhere," Santana snapped back. "And you've got a text message." She indicated his iPhone, which was lighting up with an unread message.

Kurt reached for the phone and opened the message, having a good idea of who it was.

You got Cheerios practice after school? – Sebastian

Yeah – Kurt

Want me to pick you up? – Sebastian

Depends. Are you taking me out? – Kurt

Well, I was thinking that we could go back to my place. I'm all alone in that big, cold house…. ;) – Sebastian

I like the way you think, Mr. Smythe – Kurt

"Let me guess," Santana said, reading over his shoulder. "You're "staying at my house" tonight, aren't you?"

"You know me so well," Kurt swooned, putting a hand over his heart. He spent the rest of the lunch period alternating between chatting with his girls and texting his boyfriend, only glancing over at the new kid – who was, of course, sitting by himself – twice.

Not that he, you know, cared about him or anything.