Burt had already left for work by the time I got downstairs. He'd left me lunch money stuck on the fridge next to a Crazy Booth photo strip of him and Carole. He was really falling head over heels for her.

I finished breakfast surprisingly fast that morning. Though I didn't want to admit it, it probably had something to do with the fact that I was eager to get to school to see Blaine Cullen. And that was very, very stupid.

So what if he didn't date any of the girls at Forks? I don't care how good Rachel thought her gaydar was I was not going to assume anything about anyone—especially when it risked my heart. Besides, I should be avoiding him at all costs after my unnecessary teenage babbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes? I was so frightened of being rejected by this boy but at the same time tongue-tied over his perfect face. But I was well aware that I had no chance. So I shouldn't be at all anxious to see him today.

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my speculations about Blaine Cullen by thinking about Finn and Mike, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys treated me here. I was sure I looked and acted no different than I had in Lima. Maybe it was because the boys back there were a bunch of Neanderthals compared to here with the well-raised gentleman of Forks. Perhaps I was a novelty, where novelties here were few and in between, or maybe everyone was just plainly indifferent. That or my outstanding advanced fashionista attitude cast me entirely into an entity of my own where I not only knew I was superior to them but that they knew it too. And it was about freaking time.

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to risk having an accident on Main Street.

When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I carefully walked to the back of my truck to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. No doubt Burt had risen who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. It was just like him to take care of me and it confirmed my beliefs—that I was just so lucky to have him as my dad.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, the kind you heard in action movies during car chases, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, like I daydreamed would happen in this scenario. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

Blaine Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. He wasn't the only one but his face stood out, at that moment the only face I cared to see. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of the truck, and by any deity that could possibly exist out there, my life was screwed; I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I had calculated. My head suddenly hit the floor and I felt something cold and solid pinning me down. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else because the blue van was still spinning out of control and was about to collide with me—again.

I was aware that someone was with me, only because his aura was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face. Then his hands move so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. As I heard the van settle, glass popped all over the asphalt around me, exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.

It was absolutely silent for one extremely long second. The next thing I knew everyone was screaming. I could hear several people shouting my name. But above it all, I could hear Blaine's low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Kurt? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange; squeaky, even. I tried to sit up but realized he was holding my body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

"Ow," I said, surprised. A throbbing ache started to spread just above my left ear and I instinctively reached for my head.

"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter.

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did you get over here so fast?"

"I was standing right next to you, Kurt," he said, his tone serious again.

I turned to sit up and he gently released me sliding as far away from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the glow of his gold eyes. I lost all train of thought. What was I asking him again?

"Get Brittany out of the van!" someone shouted breaking me out of my reverie. There were a number of people around us. I attempted to stand but Blaine's cold hand pushed my shoulder down. I suddenly remembered what I'd been thinking.

"You were over there! You were by your car!"

His expression turned hard, "No, I wasn't."

"I saw you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voice of adults arriving on the scene. But I was not going to lose this argument with Blaine; I was right and he was damn sure going to admit it.

"Kurt, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He bore his eyes into mine as if trying to communicate something crucial. I wasn't buying it.

"No." I said firmly. "Tell me the truth."

The gold in his eyes seemed to blaze pleadingly, "Please, Kurt."

"Why?" I demanded.

"Trust me," he pleaded again, his soft voice was overwhelming. I knew we didn't have time for this. I could hear ambulance sirens already.

"Will you promise to explain everything to me later?"

"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

"Fine." I repeated angrily.

I don't know how Blaine managed to avoid his stretcher, but the entire school watched as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Blaine, the traitor, not only got to sit up the front but told them I had hit my head and probably had a concussion.

Then, through the midst of the crowd, I saw my worried, tear-filled Dad arrive just before they were ready to close the doors and drive off.

"Stop!" I yelled desperately, "That's my Dad!"

"Kurt!" he cried anxiously, placing both his hands on each of my shoulders and staring into my eyes. His were red already.

"I'm fine, Dad," I sighed, "There's nothing wrong with me, not even a scratch." The EMT had closed the door on the ambulance and Burt turned to him for a second opinion. While they discussed my status, I thought of Blaine. The tan car I had parked next to had a dent in it fitted for the contours of his shoulders as if he'd braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame… and that wasn't the only thing that was off.

His family, showed no hint of concern for his safety. If anything they seemed disappointed and angry but that didn't make any sense. I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen—a solution that excluded the possibility that I was clinically insane.

When we reached the hospital, Blaine glided his way through the entrance doors where no one paid him the slightest attention. Burt helped me out of the ambulance as if I had somehow forgotten the ability to walk even though I insisted with him that I was okay. They led us to the emergency room and told Burt he'd have to wait outside. A nurse approached me putting a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue.

Meanwhile, another stretcher was brought by hospital personnel to the bed besides me. I recognized Brittany Crowley, a daft blonde ditzy sort of girl, who thought the square root of pi was rainbows. There were bloodstained bandages around her head and she looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But she was staring anxiously at me.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Brittany. You on the other hand don't look so good. Are you all right?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding her soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallows slices all over her forehead and left cheek. My heart clenched.

"I thought I was going to kill you! I couldn't remember how to slow down and the van was going so fast and the ice was just so mean…" She flinched as one nurse started dabbing her face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me."

"How did you get out of the way so fast? Are you a magician? One moment you were there, and the next you were gone…"

"Umm… Blaine pulled me out of the way."

She looked confused, "Who?"

"Blaine Cullen—he was standing next to me." I hoped my acting skills were paying off and that I sounded convincing.

"I don't remember him… Is he like, a magician too, but invisible?"

"No, Brit, none of us our magicians. And Blaine's not invisible. He should be here, somewhere."

What had happened? I knew I wasn't crazy. There was just no way to explain what I'd seen. They wheeled me away then to X-ray my head. I told them I was fine and I was right damn it. I asked if I could leave but the nurse insisted I needed clearance from a doctor. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, irritated by Brittany's theories, ("Suppose Blaine really does know magic?"), and her promises to make it up to me. ("It's okay Kurt, I've made out with like every guy in the school and making out with me—cheers every guy up. I'm sure we can arrange something.") True I hadn't exactly said anything but I thought even to Brittany it would be obvious that was never going to happen. But with her IQ, it faired to reason she why she would be suggesting such a thing with me. I tried to convince her that I was fine, and finally closed my eyes to ignore her.

"Is he sleeping?" a familiar musical voice asked. My eyes flew open. Blaine was standing at the end of my bed. I glared at him.

"Hey person I don't know, I'm really sorry—" Brittany began.

"The name's Blaine and really, don't worry about it," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed, facing me. He was smiling again.

"So, what did the screen tests show?" he asked me.

"Like I suspected, there's nothing wrong at all, but they won't let me go," I complained, "How come you're not strapped in like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answered mysteriously.

I didn't have time to question him; a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, his curly honey hair was cut perfectly handsome, and he looked like a poster boy for Broadway. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Burt's description, this had to be Blaine's father.

"I'm Dr. Will Cullen, Mr. Swan," he said in a remarkably attractive voice, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped. He walked to the light-board on the wall over my head, and turned it on. "Your X-rays look good," he said, "Does your head hurt?"

"No, it's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a scowl in Blaine's direction. The doctor's cool fingers inspected my skull lightly and I could not stop myself when he touched the more tender spot on my head where I had landed. I flinched.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, concerned.

"I've had worse," I admitted, remembering the time I had been shoved into a locker so hard I'd bruised a small part of the side of my head.

"Your father is in the waiting room—you can go home with him now. But if you feel dizzy or are noticing any trouble with your eyesight, come back and see me right away."

"What about school?" I asked. I could just imagine Burt at home looking after me, stressing about his shop without him there. I didn't want to have to make him take the day off too.

"Maybe you should just take it easy today."

I glanced at Blaine, "Does he get to go to school?"

"There's no need," Blaine smirked, "Most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

Wow, really? That didn't sound too good. Then again, there weren't a lot of students at Forks compared to the rest of the state. Dr. Cullen took one more look at my head and suggested Tylenol for the pain but as I got up, I reached to touch my head instinctively, and he looked concerned. "You were extremely lucky today," he said, signing my chart.

"Yes, I was lucky, I suppose. Lucky that Blaine happened to be standing right next to me." Dr. Cullen seemed to notice my sarcasm because for the most fleeting of seconds I saw him exchange a quick glance with Blaine. Then he nodded and turned to Brittany. I knew it… whatever Blaine was hiding, Dr. Cullen was in on it.

Brittany didn't look like she was going to be released as easily. As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I rounded on Blaine. "You owe me an explanation!" I hissed under my breath.

"Your father is waiting for you," he said, taking a step back from me.

"I'd like to speak to you alone first if you don't mind!" I pressed. Blaine turned on his heel and strode out of the room. I almost had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned a corner in a short hallway, he spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were very cold.

His unfriendliness intimidated me but I was not going to let this go. "You promised you would explain everything. So, tell me."

"I saved your life. That's all there is to tell."

I rolled my eyes; now I was the one annoyed, "Don't try to brush this off. You promised."

"Kurt, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone was cutting.

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. "There's nothing wrong with my head!"

He glared back, "What do you want from me, Kurt?"

"I want to know the truth!" I said, trying very hard not to raise my voice, "I want to know why I'm lying for you!"

"What do you think happened?" he snapped.

It came out in a rush. "All I know is that one minute you were four cars away from me—don't deny it, even Brittany doesn't remember seeing you—and the next the van should have smashed me, but you were holding it up…" I could hear how crazy I sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad at this point that I didn't even care. "Don't deny anything; I just saw the way your dad looked at you back in there."

Blaine was staring at me in mock disbelief. But there was something in his eyes that looked defensive. "Listen to yourself. You're trying to say that I lifted a van off you?" The way he questioned me was the same way a highly skilled actor delivers a line. I should know only too well. I nodded.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice was softer but borderline condescending.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word carefully, slowly, trying to calm my rising anger.

"Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," I insisted, "I don't like to lie—and I don't believe in calling out on anyone either—but there better be a good reason I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and drop the whole thing?"

"Thank you," I answered sarcastically, "But I ain't dropping anything."

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?"

I shook my head, tasting triumph.

"Well… in that case, I hope you enjoy disappointment."

He turned to walk away but I let my guard down and called out after him. "Why did you even bother?" He stopped walking, and for a brief moment I sensed something unexpectedly vulnerable. Blaine turned his head, ever so slightly.

"I don't know," he whispered. And then he turned his back to me once more and walked away.

I was so angry; it took me a few minutes until I could move. I finally managed to make my way to the exit at the end of the hallway.

The waiting room wasn't as unpleasant as I'd imagined. Finn, Rachel, Mike and Tina were all waiting with Burt who rushed to my side and hugged me tightly.

"I'm okay, Dad," I assured him; we both had a thing for hospitals—in that we hated them.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked gently.

"I saw Dr. Cullen. You were right about him, Dad, I can see why even the nurses faint. Anyways, he said I should go home and take it easy."

I bid farewell to my friends after promising them I was okay and Burt led me outside to his car.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Burt was there. I was positive that Blaine's defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still couldn't believe I'd witnessed. When we go to the house, Burt finally spoke.

"I'm just going to go call Carole. I told her what happened and I promised to let her know how you were."

"Sure thing, Dad."

"Do you want to go lie down for a bit?"

I nodded and headed for my room consumed by the mystery Blaine presented. And more than a little obsessed with Blaine himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This had happened before; I'd crushed on a boy at my old school only to be the recipient of a broken heart. And I felt there was so much more to lose with Blaine at stake.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Burt had created a packet macaroni and cheese and though it hadn't tasted half bad I wasn't very hungry despite having not eaten much at all today. I swallowed two Tylenol whole and they helped as I drifted off to sleep, the slight pain in my head easing.

That was the first night I dreamed of Blaine Cullen.