Kurt’s hand slides softly down the smooth, polished wood banister. His eyes dart around the corridor taking in the stately marbled floor below, the framed paintings of old regal-looking men dotting the walls, the intricate glass ceiling glistening above, and all the boys.

Dozens of them descend the stairway, clad in smart navy suits, with red piping and matching ties, the Dalton emblem embossed on each breast. Kurt self-consciously tugs at his makeshift “uniform” feeling out of place and phony. The boys around him are in an excited frenzy, pushing past one another toward some ultimate destiny.

Kurt outstretches his arm to a passing boy, “excuse me,” he calls. The boy turns. “I’m new here.”

“Jeff,” the blond boy replies taking Kurt’s hand.

“Kurt, my name’s Kurt. Umm, what exactly is going on?”

“The Warblers are giving an impromptu performance in the senior corridor,” says another boy as he brushes past Kurt. “Second one this month,” he adds, throwing a fist against Jeff’s shoulder. “Come on, we’re late!”

“Trent, this is… I’m sorry?”

“Kurt.”

“He’s the new kid.”

“Nice to meet you, new kid,” Trent says offering a hand.

“It’s Kurt,” Kurt tries to insist, taking Trent’s hand, but instead of a welcoming shake, Trent latches on to Kurt and pulls. Jeff links with Kurt’s free hand, and the trio dart off down a now empty corridor. “Hurry up, we’re gonna miss it.”

Kurt can hardly believe this school exists in America, let alone Ohio. It looks like something ripped from a British film. Long corridors are lined with intricate wallpaper laced with gold thread, priceless paintings—“Is that a Monet?” he calls out, never receiving a reply—and statues scattered here and there. Each room they pass through has hard wood tables and desks, rich, thick window coverings, and wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookcases packed with leather-bound books. Kurt makes a mental note to take pictures to send back to McKinley. Kurt doesn’t have time to dwell on McKinley-thoughts though, as Trent and Jeff come to a halt outside a room full of the boys Kurt saw running around frantically just moments earlier.

“Good, they haven’t started. You’re gonna love this, new kid,” Trent smiles at Kurt as he drops his bag and joins Jeff and the others forming a huddle by the window. The boys move into formation and launch into an acapella rendition of Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream. Several boys step forward to take a part of the song, including Trent and Jeff.

Kurt bobs along to the beat, impressed by the way the song sounds complete without any actual instruments or backing tracks. New Directions never tried anything like this. His face falls slightly at the thought, but he smiles, trying to keep his spirits alive as he watches the boys doo-wop their way around the room.

His mind keeps slipping back to his friends at McKinley, imagining what they might be up to right now. It’s about time for lunch, which means the unnatural mix of cheerleaders, jocks, and misfits would be crowding around their usual table to fight, backstab, and gossip. Kurt sighs, missing them already. 

The song ends and Kurt claps with the enthusiastic crowd, noting the one kid who never seems to bring his fist below eye level, pumping it to the heavens for all eternity. Jeff and Trent slid up next to Kurt, dragging along another brown haired boy.  Jeff introduces him. “Thad, this is the…”

“Kurt,” he interrupts quickly. This ‘new kid’ crap must end.

“Hello Kurt, we’ve been expecting you,” Thad says in a deep, Darth Vader-esque voice. Trent laughs and rolls his eyes. Kurt smiles briefly.

“You know who I am?”

“Course we do. You and those New Directions guys killed at Sectionals last year and were robbed at Regionals.” Kurt smirks at the sentiment.

“I’m not a spy or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“No, no, of course not. We know you’re a transfer, we just like to keep tabs on any new students who would make promising additions to the Warblers here.”

Kurt nods, but looks down at his shoes. Trent turns to Thad, “Point of order, gentlemen! I propose a drip for the new kid.” Ugh.

“Capital idea, good sir,” Jeff says mockingly.

“Coffee?” Thad clarifies to Kurt, when he sees the cloud of confusion settle over Kurt’s eyes. Kurt perks at the thought. “We know just the place.”

“There’s a coffee shop in your school?” Kurt asks amazed accepts his nice warm mocha from Trent. “This place is like a palace.”

“Where are you rooming?” Trent asks. Thad and Jeff look at each other sharply.

“Uh, Holyrood House, room 31.” The three boys go silent. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no. We’re all in Holyrood. It’s great. You’re part of the pack then,” Jeff assures. Kurt senses something is not great, but he doesn’t press it.

“So, what do you think?” Trent says.

“About what?”

“About the Warblers? We’re pretty good, aren’t we?”

Kurt silently takes a seat, warm coffee swishing around his mouth, wishing for someone to change the subject, but all three boys stare at him in anticipation of his glowing remarks. “May I be perfectly honest?” he says after swallowing.

“Fire away,” Jeff says, leaning his chair on its back legs and throwing his hands behind his head, “lay it on us.”

“You seem to be missing something.” Kurt pauses, watching the boys for a sign of recognition. Trent shifts in his chair. Thad looks down at his thumbs wrapped around his coffee cup. Kurt continues when no one adds anything, “A strong front man, perhaps. That’s not to say you aren’t all talented and deserving of turns in the spotlight. Just, back in New Directions, everyone knows Rachel’s the leading lady and Finn’s the leading man. As much as we like to bitch and whine about solos, they kill it every time.”

He stops momentarily to berate himself for giving away New Directions information so freely, but moves on quickly when he realizes Rachel and Finn’s status as the heads of the Glee club isn’t really much of a secret, not with all those damn solos.

“We have…” he starts again, but pauses, his eyes shifting down to the center of the table. “They. They have a lot of fantastic singers and dancers and drama queens, but you really need a solid front man, a leader to bring the group together.” Kurt finishes his speech and look up at the three Warblers across from him. They all stare down at their coffees, Trent picks at his finger. “Sorry, was that…? That was too harsh. God, I’m sorry. You’re all great, really.”

“No, Kurt’s right. We suck without our soloist,” Trent says.

“Well, he’s gone now. And, you know, good for him. But we can’t dwell on it,” Jeff tries to sound optimistic, but he immediately slips down in his seat and crosses his arms.

“Guys, this is stupid. We can’t fall apart just because one member of our team decides facing his demons is more important than winning sectionals,” Thad says, lifting himself up a bit in his seat. “Blaine has gone off to fight for his rights, and we need to support him.”

“I’m sorry, who’s Blaine?”

Trent sighs, “Blaine was the most gorgeous boy in the school. He took everyone’s breath away with his solos and he was only a sophomore. He was our messiah, our lord and savior, our trident of perfection.”

“Oh my God, Trent, he’s not that…” Thad starts before Jeff cuts in with “I heard Blaine counted to infinity—twice.”

Thad laughs, shaking his head. They sit silently for nearly a minute, before Thad suddenly exclaims to the whole room, “I once heard that Blaine knows the letter that comes after Z.”

Two more boys at a table nearby look up. One chimes in with “I heard Blaine can draw a perfect circle with a ruler.”

“I once witnessed Blaine do ALL the pushups,” a voice shouts from across the room. 

A chorus starts up around them of “I heard Blaine did this” and “I once saw Blaine do that,” with the boys falling into fits of laughter. This continues for at least ten minutes, with Kurt sitting at the center of a room filling with adorations to this Blaine character. Is everyone at this school gay, or just gay for Blaine?

Many of the boys continue telling Chuck Norris-inspired Blaine jokes as they scuttle off to their various destinations, eventually leaving just Kurt, Thad, Trent, and Jeff alone again.

“So, this Blaine was pretty great then? Why did he leave?”

“Equal rights!” Jeff nearly shouts, standing up and thrusting a fist in the air before crashing it down to his chest, and lowering his head as though in some move of solidarity.

“Sorry?” Kurt asks.

“Blaine came to Dalton last year to escape the bullies at his old school. Dalton’s zero tolerance no bullying policy protected him,” Thad explains.

“I like to think it was that we’re all such loving, accepting people, and that’s what protected him,” Trent adds.

“Accepting of what?” Kurt asks, even though he’s fairly certain he knows what. 

“Umm, well, see, Blaine is… gay,” Jeff nearly whispers the final word, as though he thought hearing it spoken too loudly would send Kurt into a homophobic fit of rage. Has he SEEN me?

Kurt leans forward across the table as though to whisper back, but instead shouts it nice and loud and clear enough for all to hear, “I’m gay.”

Trent dissolves into a laughing fit and Thad struggles not to join him. Jeff sits back and ponders Kurt’s announcement for a moment. “Too bad you missed each other,” he says finally. “You would totally have been his type.” Thad falls apart at that, and Kurt begins to wonder how anything gets done around Dalton if this is a normal day.

“So where did this majestic Blaine-creature run off to?”

All three boys shut up instantly and stared at Kurt. “Well, huh, yeah, he went to McKinley… in Lima… where you just came from… yeaaah, sooooo…” Jeff slides his coffee off the table and his ass off his chair and sneaks away as Kurt processes the information.

Thad and Trent look at each other and back at Kurt whose face is screwed up in confusion.

“Let’s go check out your room then, shall we,” Thad says, placing a hand across the table on Kurt’s. Kurt retracts quickly from the contact, not used to people—or rather, guys—openly touching him.

The two Warblers lead Kurt to the Holyrood commons and gave him the grand tour. The communal kitchen, the communal bathrooms, the communal living room. Kurt is struck by just how much communal living he’ll be doing and with how many boys he’ll be doing it. Trent and Thad leave him at his dorm door. “We’ll let you get settled in then,” Trent says before pulling Kurt into a crushing hug. “Welcome home, Kurt.”

Kurt watches Trent and Thad walk down the hall toward their own rooms, as he digs out the key he was given at the start of the day. He unlocks the door and slips into the room.

The room is small, but cozy. The furniture is not as nice as that found in the rest of the school. The desk is a long piece of varnished plywood, bolted to the far wall. There are several cubby-like shelves of the same material above the desk, ready for textbooks and trinkets. A large window is next to the desk, and Kurt likes the idea that when studying, he can look out at the green quad. The bed is snug against the wall by the door. A pillow, a set of white sheets, and a red quilt are placed at the head of the bed, folded neatly, awaiting Kurt’s well perfected bed-making skills. His bags had been delivered during lunch, and he doesn’t have any classes until tomorrow, so he sets about unpacking. A dry-cleaning bag hangs on the closet door. Inside is his Dalton blazer and pants. He slides the plastic over the hanger and unhooks the blazer. He takes off his personal robe that he mocked up back in his own bedroom in Lima that morning and slides on the Dalton blazer.

He turns toward the mirror on the back of the closed door and examines the look. He tries to smile, to vogue, to be sexy, anything to make the blazer feel likehim. He pulls it off and sets it down on the bed. He looks around the empty room and is suddenly and completely struck with loneliness. He curls up on the mattress and allows himself to weep tonight. Tomorrow, he says to himself, I will be happy, I will be safe, and I will feel at home.

Kurt begins to feel himself falling; he falls and falls until there is no falling left to do and then he falls some more. He stops falling only to find himself climbing out of a dumpster at McKinley, Karofsky and his bully posse laughing and high fiving as they walked back into the school. He dusts off his blue Alexander McQueen jacket—Isn’t this is last year’s jacket? he questions momentarily—and marches into the school. He turns toward his locker and finds Karofskyblocking his path. “Move, you Neanderthal,” he spits and suddenly Karofsky is on him, his face smashed in by two meaty palms, Karofsky’s eyes searching Kurt’s for an answer. Karofsky releases him forcefully, and Kurt falls to the ground. Karofsky kicks him in the gut until he coughs up blood. Kurt pushes away from the floor and runs for it, Karofsky screaming “I’ll kill you if you tell” at him as he goes. He passes through a pair of double doors and comes though into his dad’s hospital room. His dad lays unconscious, tubes wrapped all around him, the machines blipping in time to “Marry You” by Bruno Mars. Finn and Rachel stand at the foot of the bed singing about getting married while wasted, and Carol dances in her wedding dress beside Burt, his hand in hers. Then Burt flat lines and Kurt opens his eyes, blinking in the darkness.

Kurt flips on the small lamp by the bed and sets to work finishing his unpacking. He thinks about the dream while he hangs his clothes. Karofskynever beat the living shit out of him, and he couldn’t understand whatKarofsky expected him to tell. Kurt thought about that day, the day Karofskyapproached him in the locker room, started screaming at him to get out, and then grabbed his face between his hands. Karofsky just stared into Kurt’s eyes like he was trying to understanding something, then Azimio burst in andKarofsky pulled back his fist and punched Kurt in the abdomen. 

Kurt tried to accuse Karofsky, but Azimio stuck up for him, saying Kurt tried to kiss Karofsky and he was just defending himself. The next day, Karofskyslammed Kurt into the locker and threatened his life. He didn’t tell his dad about the incident and the threat because of his heart condition, but Burt found out anyway just before the wedding. Karofsky was suspended pending investigation, but Sue Sylvester apologized when she couldn’t do more. His dad and Carole were looking into moving Kurt to a new school or even homeschooling, when a friend of Carole’s at work mentioned Dalton Academy and their zero tolerance policy. Soon, Kurt found himself shipped off to boarding school, away from his friends, his newly formed family, and his potential solo at sectionals.

At least I’m safe, Kurt thinks. For the first time in months, he’s not threatened with violence at every turn. He can walk through school without the fear of slushies or something worse hitting him in the face. It’s worth all the heartache, for now at least. I guess.

Kurt unpacks his books and organizes them on the bookshelf above his desk. When he begins filling the drawers of the desk with pens and filler paper, he comes across a clean white envelope addressed “To the New Kid in Windsor 31.”

Dear New Kid,

            Get used to that name. It took six months before anyone called me by my first name. Honestly though, I think it’s a term of endearment around here. Dalton likes fresh blood and you are it for the time being. I say milk it while you can!

            You must be wondering what kind of person writes a letter to the new occupant of a dorm room. To be honest, I don’t know what kind of person would do such a thing. I never figured myself that kind of person. But here I am, writing this letter to you. Let’s just go with it, okay?

            So, today was your first day. How did you like it? Why am I asking you questions when I know you can’t answer? Moving on… I bet you met the Holyrood crew. They are pretty tight, so try to get in with them. They will protect you with their lives if you let them. Oh, man, I might actually be tearing up from the thought of leaving.

            Why did I leave, you ask? Well, there comes a moment in every man’s life when he realizes he can hide from the world, or he can face it head on. I ran from my old school not three months into my freshman year. Dalton accepted me into their fold and I was able to find myself here. These guys built me up when everyone else tore me down. I thought, now’s the time to get back out there and show the world what I’m worth.

            If you are here for similar reasons, let Dalton build you up like they did me. If you are not here for similar reasons or you already have a deep sense of self, go out of your way to build up someone who needs it.

            I truly hope Dalton is everything you are looking for, and remember, just because you’ve found a new home doesn’t mean your old one isn’t awaiting your return. No matter what, I’m sure you have people who miss you and love you. Don’t forget them. They are a part of you.

                                                                                                      The former occupant,

                                                                                                                          Blaine A. 

          P.S. If you can sing, join the Warblers. If you can’t sing, join the Warblers. Seriously, just join them, and say hi for me. 

            P.P.S. I’m sorry I missed you. I’m sure we would have been great friends.

            P.P.P.S. The bed creaks. A lot. And the walls are thin. FYI.