Homeroom was just as wonderful as I had hoped. Mike and Mercedes were both ecstatic to see me, just as I was to see them, and we caught back up just like old friends do. I had seen Mercedes at our sleepovers all summer with Kurt, but other than that, Mercedes hadn’t done much over the summer. Except that she had to Los Angeles for a week with her parents. We had gushed over it at our last sleepover, but I listened to it again as she told Mike. She had walked the Walk of Fame and had a picture under the Hollywood sign. They had also stopped by Disneyland, and she had gotten to meet Tiana. She was still giggling about that and it had happened a month and a half ago. Mike had been in dance classes for most of the summer, taking some and teaching some as well. He also said something about a new fondness for butter pecan ice cream, but blushed slightly and looked away as he said it.

I smiled. I had a feeling it had to do with Tina, but I wasn’t going to push any information out that he didn’t want to give.

It wasn’t long before I was hugging goodbye to Mike and Mercedes, but I had class with Kurt next.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” I said as I walked towards him. He was seated in the front row, with his bag sitting in the chair of the desk next to him. The look on his face was interesting: he wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but he looked positively starstruck. I smirked. “Is that chair for me?”

His gaze immediately refocused on me. “Why, if it isn’t miss Rachel Berry herself. I had no idea you would be in this class with me.” He giggled. His speech was full of fake awe and sarcasm, as we had been super excited to have this class together since we had received our schedules. “Of course it’s for you, love,” he said as he reached over to his bag and grabbed it. I leaned down to hug him, and he almost jumped out of his seat to hug me.

It really hadn’t been that long since we had last seen each other, but that’s how it is with your best friend. It feels like all of the time you spend apart doesn’t matter as soon as you’re together again.

I sat down in my chair and turned to Kurt. “So, did you see my brother in Homeroom?”

He put his face in his right hand, his fingers sprawled so that he could still look through them. “Why yes, yes I did.”

I cocked my head to the side. “You seem…”

“It was the strangest thing. It hadn’t been very long since I’d seen him last, but he just seemed, y’know, different.”

I turned my head straight and raised my eyebrow. “Different, Kurt? Really? Cause he’s my brother. My twin brother. The same twin brother I’ve had for the past seventeen years.”

Kurt took his hand from his face and ran it through his hair. “I don’t know, Rach. I thought it was just weird seeing him here. But I think it might be, y’know, kinda nice. I mean, it means I won’t have to drive you home every day.” He was trying really hard to get that stupid drunken look off of his face by being snarky, and it had almost worked. It was a face I had come to know very well over the past few years. But, seeing the subject matter, I wasn’t quite sure how to take it.

This stupid drunk look was the “oh-my-goodness-i-think-i-might-really-like-this-guy” look.

Oh no.

“Oh my God, Kurt,” I said with an open-mouthed gape. “You like him.” My eyes got wide.

So did his.

Kurt looked away, stared at the wall for a second, and then let his head collapse to his desk.

Oof.

“No I don’t,” he protested, his forehead still connected to his desktop.

I leaned far out of my chair and put my chin on his shoulder. “Oh my God, yes you do!”

“Stupid crush, Rach. I’ll get over it.”

I scoffed. “Ahuh. Sure you will. Cause, y’know, he’s a terrible guy. He’s not polite, doesn’t dress well, and isn’t hilarious. He’s also not your type at all.”

“Oh my God,” Kurt sighed. He still hadn’t lifted his head from his desk.

At that moment, our History teacher, Ms. Fitzgerald walked into the room.

About twenty minutes into class, Kurt passed me a note. I opened it and placed it in the spot where my notes were in my notebook, as to attract less attention.

This is going to suck, isn’t it?

I smiled down at my notes and the note Kurt had sent me.

What, class?

I folded it back up and sent it back to Kurt. When he opened it up, I could see him sigh. I giggled to myself. This was going to be fun. For me, of course. Not for them.

I got the note back. It’s not class I’m worried about.

Worried? I wrote back. Why on earth would you be worried?

A few minutes later, I got a reply.

Cause I fret about these sorts of things. You know that.

Oh, Kurt. He really was a fretter. I honestly had no idea what to write back, because I had no idea how Blaine felt about the subject. But Kurt, I could take a good guess at. This short talk had alluded to the fact that Kurt liked my brother. I didn’t know how much, but then again, this didn’t feel like one of the regular talks Kurt and I had about the boys in our lives. I suppose my next move would be to dig for information, but I wasn’t sure how Kurt would feel about that.

I do know that, sweets. Would you like me to dig a little for you? Or would you prefer I kept my big, beautiful nose out of it?

I saw Kurt smile a little bit at the note I passed back.

If your big, beautiful nose happened to peek into this particular piece of business, I wouldn’t hate it.

***

Glee was on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, although we were discussing holding an extra session Wednesdays during the activity and study hall block between the third and fourth block classes. So this, being Monday, was one of my least favorite days of the week.

Our first day of school had ended without incident (although Blaine wouldn’t shut up about how I had “embarrassed” him at lunch). We were in my car, a little silver Toyota, when I brought it up.

“So, Blainers, were you thinking about joining my Glee club?”

“Your Glee club?” he scoffed. He leaned back in the passengers seat and smiled. “I was thinking about it.”

“To sing back up for me, of course.”

“Not a chance, sis. You all could use me. I mean, Finn is a great leading man, but his voice is still a little shaky. Puck’s voice is incredible, but for some reason, he doesn’t ever get leads. And Kurt,” he said as he turned his head to look out the window, “while his voice is incredible, it isn’t quite deep enough to do most of the male parts in male/female duets. I’d love to see him get solos once in a while,” he said, looking sternly back at me, “but those always seem to go to you.”

“And Mercedes,” I said with a grin. “Don’t ever forget about Mercedes.”

“Of course, how could I forget? She wipes the floor with you and your voice.”

I slammed on the breaks.

“You take that back!” I demanded.

“Never,” he giggled, and stuck his tongue out at me.

“You’re just jealous. I understand.”

Blaine turned his head to face the road. “It’s not that either one of you are better than the other, you just have different styles. You may be able to sing white-girl broadway and power ballads, but she crushes you in soul and R&B. I don’t get why y’all are always at each other’s throats. I’m just glad it doesn’t tear your friendship apart.”

I was glad about it too, but I chose to change the topic instead.

“So, how were classes?”

“They were fine. Nothing particularly exciting. Except that Kurt and Tina were right about my English class. Useless excuse for a class.”

I remembered my junior English class. He was right, it was a waste of a class.

“Does that mean you’re going to audition for Ms. O’Shea’s senior English class?”

“Audition?” he said with a shock.

“Basically. I’m not sure what Kurt and Tina told you, but that’s basically what it is. You have to prove to her that you’re really up for her class, and that you really want to be there. She has a number of options, because she understands that people really do have different strengths, but the performances are always the most fun for the seniors.”

He turned to me, and looked straight at me. “Explain.”

“Well,” I started. “Alright. You can write an analytical thesis essay on any book on her list, which you’d have to read first, of course. You can lead the class in a discussion of current events that leads into a book you’re reading for the year. You can perform a monologue from Shakespeare, of which you’ll be reading a few of in her class. You can write a song. I’ve even seen people create art and couple it with an essay. Think of it as a final project to get into the class.”

I could feel Blaine sink into the seat. “Should I? Is it worth it?”

“I did it last year, and her class is amazing. She has about five years worth of classes and rotates them, because she knows some people take her class. I have no idea what we’re reading this semester, though.”

“Great,” he grunted. “I think I should, but I don’t know if I want to anymore.”

Hm, I though. How can I get him to want to be in this class? It’ll be good for him. And good for me too. Hmmmmmm.

Suddenly, I came to my answer.

“You wouldn’t be alone in the class. You’d have to audition, but Kurt, Mercedes, and I are all already there. You’d have a support team.”

I felt him perk up at the sound of Kurt’s name. Good graces, I love being observant.

“Alright,” I heard him sigh from the seat next to me. I pulled the car into the driveway, and he got out. “You’d better not laugh at me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, little brother.”