Part one: Childhood

Chapter 1: New Kid in the Neighborhood

Blaine Anderson's bare toes scraped at the dirt under his feet on the curb by his home in the quiet little town of Laramie, Tennessee. Like every day since his mother recieved the telegram saying his father was finally coming home from Korea, he had sat there on that curb, barefoot, dusty and dragging lines in the dirt with a stick or a rock waiting on his father to pull up and lift him up in his arms again. It had been two years since he had last seen his father. The second world war took him off to Germany, then Korea. He wrote Blaine letters telling him all about the Nazis and the Japs and how America wasn't going to let them get away with it. It gave Blaine a small warm feeling in his little stomach- his dad was a superhero.

"Blaine, sweetie?"

Blaine glanced up through his curly black hair to see his mother Jeanette gliding toward him with a glass of iced water. Another warm feeling he got was from seeing his mother. She was beautiful, dark-skinned and had the sweetest singing voice he had ever heard. They weren't from Laramie originally. His father ended up having to move the family from Ontario, Canada, and, though Blaine was too young to know it when they first moved, the two places were two different worlds.

"Ella is gonna watch you for a while. I've gotta go to the store. What are you doing out here anyway?" she pushed his curls away from his forehead to examine his sad brown eyes.

"Just waiting on Daddy," he answered, his little voice rasp from lack of use. Jennete gave him a sympathetic smile. She had watched the little boy from the window for the past two weeks sitting on that curb, barely speaking to his mother or the maid, waiting for her husband to return. It would have been very sweet if she didn't know more about his daddy than he did. She couldn't explain to him that he wasn't going to be the same daddy he was when he left.

"He's still coming home, right, Momma?"

"Oh, of course, baby," she smiled and kissed his nose, making his mouth quirk up into a small smile. "Why don't you go inside in a few minutes. It's hot as Hades out here."

Blaine giggled when she tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, her long nail tickling the back of his neck. "Ok."

Jeanette gave her son the glass of iced water and headed to the car, saying something to Ella on the porch before hopping in and backing out of the drive way.

"Blaine, honey, come eat somethin'," Ella called after him, her hands on her large hips. Ella was their 'help', as Blaine's momma had taught him. She said the word 'maid' was a little too Old South. There were other maids on the block and all over the state, but Blaine's daddy might have mentioned that Ella probably gets paid a little more. The only reason they had help was because Blaine was sickly as a baby and once he got a little better, he wouldn't let his parents get rid of her. Ella was his best friend.

"I'm not hungry, Ella," Blaine turned back around and rested his elbow on his knee, his chin on his hand, and continued to draw circles and shapes in the dust.

"You're gonna turn into a skeleton if you don't eat, boy," she warned him as she always did.

"I'm gonna come inside in a minute, I promise. Just a few more minutes?" he looked up through his eyelashes at her. She gave him a defeated look.

"I always said them eyes could turn the Devil himself away," she chuckled and shook her head. "Ok, five more minutes, then you better come eat somethin'."

Blaine nodded and returned to his previous position. He stared down the road, taking in the other houses that all seemed to look the same minus all the little things in the yards that made them unique. Mrs. Carlton's yard had a little baby swing and a canopy bench under a shade tree. Her husband was coming home from the war, too. Over in Benny and Jacob's yard there were toy trucks and four wooden planks set in a diamond where they and Blaine would play baseball with a stick and and whatever spherical object they could find to make a ball. The only house void of any originality was the one directly across the driveway from Blaine's. It had been empty for a few months since the Crabtrees moved to Virginia to live with Mr. Crabtree's sick mother. Blaine knew a lot about the neighbors from his mother's weekly book club meetings. All the ladies from the neighborhood and church would meet in their living room, drink tea and talk about people. Blaine never once saw them open a book.

At the sound of tires crunching, Blaine sat up so quickly his stick snapped in his hand. A beat-up pick up pulled into the driveway across from his, Woody Guthrie drifting through the open windows. The momentary elation he felt at the thought of his father coming home sank in his chest when the man who stepped out was wearing a dirty cap and overalls over a plain white shirt. He was talking to someone that Blaine couldn't see in the cab and starting to untie the tarp covering the pile in the back.

The passenger door swung open and a little boy hopped out onto the concrete, clutching a doll. Blaine tilted his head, studying the little boy closely. He was dressed like he was going to church or somewhere fancy, but his father wasn't. Did he always dress like that? He wore a clean white short sleeved shirt that he had buttoned up and tucked into some clean khaki shorts. Black suspenders hooked around his shoulders. His hair was neat and tidy, the barely there breeze in the air tossing one stray lock over his forehead. Blaine was entranced. This may have been the prettiest boy he had ever seen.

Blaine shook his head and dropped his stick on the ground. He had heard stories about boys who thought boys were pretty and he didn't want to be that way.

"Hey there, little man," the boy's father (Blaine guessed) called to him, a huge smile on his face. He didn't sound like he was from around here. "Hope you don't mind havin' new neighbors."

The little boy stood close to his father, the china doll in his hands clutched to his chest. The icy blue eyes were staring straight at Blaine in curiosity.

"This is my son, Kurt," the man gripped the boy's shoulder. "He's seven. How old are you?"

Blaine stood up, remembering his manners. "Six and a half."

The man laughed. "Oh, you can talk."

"Sorry. Momma says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"She's right. We're just gonna move our stuff in. Maybe you could keep Kurt company."

Kurt tightened his grip on the doll and slid in behind his father's leg. Ella came outside.

"Blaine, it's been five minutes," she came into the yard and stopped, nodding a hello to the new neighbor.

"Oh, hello, mam," he smiled politely and waved a hand. "Just getting to know our new little neighbor. I'm Burt Hummel and this is my son, Kurt."

"Well, hello there, sweetpea," she smiled at Kurt. Kurt furrowed his brow and slid a little further back. "Shy little thing, inn't he?"

Burt laughed. "Yeah."

"Well do you think he might want a peanut butter and bananna sandwich?"

"Ella makes really good sandwiches," Blaine told him. Kurt glanced down at his shoes.

"Go on, son, it's ok," Burt rubbed his back. "You haven't had lunch and I need to unpack."

Blaine quickly looked both ways down the road and trotted across the street on the balls of his feet, the hot street burning his bare toes. When he reached the two neighbors, he held his hand out.

"I've got Lincoln Logs. I like to build stuff. We could try and make the house on the box."

Kurt stared at Blaine's hand, then at Blaine. Blaine felt his stomach flip a little when he noticed the little boy looked like he was about to cry. Kurt chewed on his bottom lip, then took Blaine's hand quietly.

"Come on, then," Ella called to them and started back into the house.

"See you later, Kurt. Be good," Burt reminded him and with one last look back at his dad, Kurt followed Blaine into his house.

Kurt nibbled on his sandwich while Ella and Blaine talked about this and that. Kurt had never been around black people before, but he was starting to really like Ella. She was large, funny, and made the best sandwich he had ever tasted. Blaine occasionally glanced at Kurt, making sure he wasn't about to cry again.

His eyes were shining like he wanted to, but Blaine didn't know why.

"You need a bath, Blaine Anderson," Ella wrinkled her nose at his dirty fingers while his ate his sandwich. "Why little boys wanna play in the dirt, I'll never know."

"I don't like baths. The water gets cold and my fingers get all wrinkly," he said through a mouth full of sandwich. Kurt couldn't fight the little giggle that bubbled up in his chest. It was the first noise he had made and it startled the other two a little.

"Do you like baths?" Blaine asked Kurt after finally swallowing his sandwich.

Kurt looked a little confused at the question, but nodded anyway.

"How come?"

Kurt shuffled his feet a little, then answered, "Momma used to always give me a bath..."

There was the look again- the one like he was gonna cry. Ella caught it before Blaine did.

"You ok, sweetpea?"

"My momma died last week. My nana lives here, so we had to move away."

Ella clicked her tongue sadly and sat down in the chair by Kurt. "I'm sorry, honey. But you know you still got your daddy. I'm sure he'll be around for a long time to make sure you get a bath."

Blaine smiled sweetly at Ella. She always knew what to say to make people feel better. Kurt blinked his eyes of tears and gave her a small, crooked smile.

"Daddy said she's in Heaven now."

"And she's gonna watch over you like your own angel. She ain't really gone. Just somewhere else."

Kurt nodded. "Thanks, Miss Ella."

Ella wiped a little tear off his cheek and stood up. "You want some more milk, sweetpea?"

Kurt shook his head. Blaine handed her his glass when she asked for it, but he kept watching Kurt as he started to eat a little more. He liked this new boy.

When Jeanette came home, she heard two distinctly different giggles coming from the living room. She peaked around the corner to see Blaine and a little boy talking in whispers about the little wooden frame they had constructed in the floor.

"Ella?" she asked when she entered the kitchen, placing the grocery bags on the counter. "Who's that little boy playing with Blaine?"

"New neighbor, Mrs. Anderson. The Hummels. Nice, nice folks," she started unloading the vegetables.

"Well, that's wonderful. Maybe we can invite them over dinner sometime. Maybe Mrs. Hummel would like to join the book club," she started excitedly. She loved new faces.

"Ain't no Mrs. Hummel, mam. She died last week."

Jeanette let out a small gasp and glanced back toward the living room. "Oh, wow."

"That little boy in there is Kurt. He's shy, but Mister Blaine's charmin' the pants off of him," Ella laughed. "They been in there playin' for almost an hour just a-gigglin'."

Jeanette smiled. "It got him away from that curb, I suppose."

Ella's face fell to a serious look. "Mrs. Anderson...when you gonna tell him?"

Jeanette's smile fell. "Ella...it's not like John's dead or anything...just..."

"Mean-hearted? Cold? A drunk?"

"Stop that, Ella," she said sternly. "The war was hard on him. If he just gets home and settles back down, he'll be the man I love again."

Ella sighed and turned back to Jeannette. "I love Mr. Anderson, too, but if he ever lays a hand on that little boy-"

"I know, Ella...it's going to be ok. I won't let anything happen."

Two sets of feet running into the kitchen halted their conversation. "Momma, can me and Kurt have a cookie?"

"'Kurt and I'," she corrected him. "And not until you introduce me," she offered him a smile.

"My name's Kurt," he spoke up, his high, clear voice melting her heart. "We just moved here from Ohio."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Kurt," she put out a hand for him to shake, which he did. "How would you and your father like to come to dinner tonight?"

"Gee, I'll have to ask him, but that sounds great," he answered politely.

"Well, I'm giving Mister Blaine a bath first," Ella wagged her finger at Blaine, who groaned loudly and slid down onto the floor, making Kurt laugh out loud. "So you run on home and tell your daddy to come on over around seven and I'll have him somethin' good to eat."

"Thank you. I'll tell him," Kurt smiled and looked down on the floor at Blaine. "Have fun in the bath."

Blaine stuck his tongue out at Kurt and watched as the giggling boy ran out of the house toward his own.

"So, you made a new friend, sweetie?" Blaine's mother lifted him up off the floor and kissed his dirty cheek.

"Yep. He's really fun. And pretty smart, too! He helped me make the house on the Lincoln Log box!"

Jennete laughed and put him down. "Well, go with Ella and get nice and clean before our guests arrive."