The next day at school, Kurt's momentary moment of happiness was ripped away from him once again by the school jocks. His morning had started out with yet another slushie to the face, he had been shoved into the locker hard enough for him to drop all of the copies he'd made for Mrs. Copeland during his teacher-aide hour (all 400- 100 copies of four different worksheets…all mixed in together now), Coach Sylvester had demanded that he rejoin the cheerios, and he had just returned to find his locker defaced.

He tucked his head against his chest and swallowed thickly. This day just kept getting better and better. He wanted to scream.

"Hello, my fashion savy diva," a smooth and sultry voice gained his attention as a figure leaned up agains the locker next to his, arm bracing herself on the wall.

He blinked.

"Ms. Holliday?" he asked, perplexed.

"That's my name," she joked, "don't wear it out."

He looked around to see if there was any particular reason she would have been speaking to him at this exact moment. He wasn't doing anything wrong…so it must just be one of her strange quirks. It was kindof creepy, the way she was standing there looking at him for all the world like she thought he was her best friend.

"Umm…is there something I can help you with?"

She smiled at him, her posture relaxed and eyes earnest.

"As a matter of fact, Kurt," she slipped an arm around his shoulders and started walking with him toward the school exit, "I was hoping for some fashion advice. Next week I am planning to spice up Mr. Schuester's Spanish class by dressing as Evita- brilliant right? However I can't seem to figure out just the right outfit…"

"Oh," he said, allowing a small smile to appear on his lips, "well, any classic social gown would…"

"I was thinking we could discuss this over a coffee," she interrupted, smile still on her face.

It didn't pass Kurt's notice that they had made it through the parking lot and to his Navigator without incident and he knew she must have overheard Brandon and Azimio talking about his afternoon dumpster-dive. That must be why she was being so nice to him. It wasn't that teachers weren't nice to him… they just didn't really notice him. It didn't matter how many A's he got or brilliant explications of concepts they were discussing that he came up with…they were so focused on the drowning they were doing in the public school system that they had little time to focus on anything else.

He turned around and leaned slightly on the Navigator for support.

"Ms. Holliday, I appreciate what you just did for me, but you don't have to stick around and pretend that you-"

She placed a hand on his shoulder and interrupted him.

"Kurt, I really need help with the outfit."

He didn't really know how to reply to that.

"Erm…ok. Have you ever been to the Lima Bean?"

That was how 20 minutes and two Grande non-fat Mocha's later Kurt was sitting at his favorite table tucked in the back corner of the Lima Bean with Ms. Holliday. Or, rather Hollie as she insisted on being called when she was '"off duty."

"Okay," he said with a smile. "I was thinking for Eva Peron you could wear either a really classy gown with maybe a fur wrap or a business casual suit- and really to be fair I think a pencil skirt or a two piece tweed suite maybe. But please, no mauve. Mauve looks horrible on everyone, and Evita wore a lot of those in the movie, and in the musicals she's always doing it too."

Holly was smiling at him.

"You really know your fashion and musicals, huh?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Kurt shrugged, looking down at his coffee.

"I'm gay, you know? It's my thing."

"Rachel's into musicals and- well, not so much fashion, but you know…she really loves her broadway. She's not gay."

Kurt's left eye twitched, as it was prone to doing when he received well-meaning pep talks from people who didn't really know anything about his life.

"She's a girl."

"Hmm. Well, I love Monster trucks and flannel. Does that make me less of a girl?"

He cocked his head to the side, trying to imagine her in something flannel. He shuddered.

"Does this have a point?"

The knowing smile was back and he had to wonder just what it was that she knew that he didn't.

"Kurt, I'm not trying to be uncool here. I just want you to know that you are an amazing person. You've got a great voice, a good sense of humor, you are sooo incredibly smart and you would win a fashion contest hands down. Just because you're different from other boys doesn't make you any less of a boy, or any less awesome."

His eyebrows shot up. What?

"I have noticed," she said slowly, "that you are having some troubles at school. I know that I'm not a parent, and that it might be kind of weird to talk to a teacher, but if you ever ever need to talk about it or have a problem and you aren't sure who you can come to, come to me."

He was struck silent. It didn't happen often, and Kurt was touched. Someone finally noticed and wasn't too afraid or ashamed or unbothered to care.

"I hate going to school," he whispered. "Every day I have to wake up early and spend time convincing myself that there's a reason to get out of bed."

She nodded at him as though she understood. But how could she?

"Have you thought about reporting it to Figgins?"

He shook his head dully.

"What would he do about it? What has he done about it? He can't not know."

"Not really much a team-player is he?"

Shaking his head to show that he agreed, Kurt looked up at her finally.

"I don't expect you to do anything about it."

"If I were to stand by and watch as you deteriorated, what kind of person would I be? I'm on your side Kurt. While I'm in the halls of that school, I've got your back."

Kurt felt his eyes prickle.

"You're a great teacher."

Her eyes looked haunted for a moment and she corrected him, "I'm a great substitute."

"Well it doesn't make you any less awesome," he said with a soft smirk.