~ CHAPTER 1 ~

The Hummels

"Wake up, boy! We're here." This gruff voice had me jerk awake suddenly.

I sit up stiffly in my seat, my neck, when I straighten it, cricks slightly due to staying in the same position for so long. I look around with fuzzy eyes and blink. The bus is almost empty, except for the conductor and driver, there are only two men snoring in the backseats. I would've liked to look outside the window to take in the surroundings, but the conductor is still standing there, waiting. So I shuffle to my feet and reach for the satchel beside me. Wordlessly, the man lead me outside and I follow, still unsteady due to sleep.

The first thing that hit me is the muggy air, and then the hotness of it. I look up and stare at the sky, covered with carroty clouds and casting a sepia hue to all the landscape around us. The other thing that I notice – we are in the middle of nowhere. Just me, the deranged looking land, and the bus, on a roadside.

"This is it?" I ask the conductor, feeling hopeless.

He looks slightly disturbed. And I swear there is a hint of pity and worry in his eyes as he says, "It's the place, yes. That lawman said to leave you here and here we are." Before I can protest that 'here' was actually a barren, deserted land, he says, "It's a strange place for a town if you ask me. But this is the only way in."

"What way?" I try not to sound too snarky.

In answer, he opens the boot compartment from the flanks of the bus, unloads my two heavy bags, and leads me around the bus to the other side of the road.

I stop short at the sight before me.

A narrow one-vehicle-at-a-time dirt road stretches off from the road. Even one vehicle couldn't make it through, not without having to crash in the trees rimming it like a fence. It is really a trail leading into a forest, but there is a small wooden pole-sign beside the road, pointing inside the forest trail, that says "HILLTOWN: 2 MILES" to make it clear that the trail goes to civilization.

Of all the places in this wide world, my linage has to be from the creepy-town. I bite my lips, trying to decide if to board the bus again and go somewhere else, or to burst into tears of frustration. Both options seem likely at the moment. I don't see why I cannot do both?

Noticing my frustration, or bright eyes maybe, the man says awkwardly, "Do you want us to carry your load to this town of yours?"

I shake my head briefly. "My Uncle called my lawyer the time and place. He will be coming to pick me up shortly." I add softly to myself, "I hope."

By now, the driver sticks his head of the window and says, "Isn't there any filling station or inn nearby? You can stay there, kid, till somebody comes to pick you." I bother not to answer. As far as eye can see, the road is nothing but hot tar and trees and no civilization.

After some determination on my part, and unwillingness of the driver, the bus roars to life and crawls its way back down. I watch it for some time, until I can no longer hear it or see it.

That's when I realize how silent this place is. The abundant forest, and the dirt-road, is silent as an empty hall. No birdsong, no light breeze blowing out towards me from the wet forest ground. It is eerie.

Deciding to resign myself to the wait, I drag my bags one by one near the pole. I use the largest one of them as my seat and open my satchel to find my handkerchief. I wipe the small beads of sweat from my face and dab it furiously against my eyes to stop the tears that are threatening to from there.

"Where are you Uncle?" I whisper to myself. The word "Uncle" rolls off unfamiliarly from my tongue. Until a month ago, I didn't even know I had an Uncle.

Dad never mentioned, Burt Hummel, his younger brother, to me. Ever. I don't exactly know why that is, but I had suspicions that Mother had something to do with it. From what I know, Mother hated Dad's relatives and Dad's relatives hated Mother. That's the reason why they had moved away from Hilltown just after a few months of their marriage—or so I later found out. We have spent my whole life moving from places to places. At first I thought it is because my parents had adventurous spirit. But then my Mother went missing, and Dad still kept the "moving" tradition up. Now I wonder if it is for some other reason entirely. Although, for the life of me, I know not what that reason can be! I was the only child. And after Mother was gone, Dad and I became lone rangers. Moving places. Adventuring as we went down the road. I wonder why we never came down this road, the one that led to my Dad's relatives, his hometown. We could've visited anytime; I knew nobody to contradict it, or stop us.

But then Dad died a month ago. Heart failure—instant death. That's what the postmortem report confirmed.

Tears sting my eyes and I blink them away. I wasn't ready yet to loose myself to my emotions. I have to meet my relatives first, bravely so. I can feel wretched later.

But it had happened so suddenly. Before I even had a chance to scream or cry or mourn, Dad's lawyer had come to get me. He had shifted me to an inn, where I'd stayed while he worked out where I was supposed to go. Then he had given me my father's last will and testament. There had been instructions for me to "Do not go looking for your mother" and "Go to Hilltown, to Burt." There was also a thick envelope that the lawyer entrusted to me, which I am supposed to give to Uncle Burt. The lawyer had telephoned Burt, settled matters with him, and helped me up the bus last night.

And now here I am, waiting.

I could've called my Uncle if I had a cell phone. But mine got confiscated for the investigation that followed Dad's death. I haven't got around buying one yet. I don't know how long I sit there. All I know is that my clothes are starting to reek and my handkerchief is damp from all the sweat I have wiped from my face. I can feel my hair sticking to my forehead and the nape of my neck. I can only imagine what condition I am in after the time I spent sleeping in the bus.

Before I can lament more on my poor hair and poor clothes, I spot a movement on the dirt road. A vehicle is moving towards me, blowing a cloud of dust in its wake. I sit straight. My heart hammers. What if it isn't my Uncle? What if it is some other passer by? I'd ask for a lift, of course! But then I think, I'd rather just stay here alone than ask for a lift from a complete stranger in this wilderness.

The vehicle is closer now, I can see it. It is a jeep, and from far it had looked slow and clattery, but it is moving fast—I can hear the engine groaning with power and speed.

I smile without warning.

Dad had always claimed that he used to own a jeep when he was young. I didn't believe him. But the proof is making its way to me as fast as it can. It is a rusty-brown color; there is a dimple-like dent just below the left headlight. The windscreen has flowery pattern of cracks on the left, bottom corner. All the details, just like Dad clamed his monster jeep had. As the jeep growls to a stop in front me, spinning slightly to the right to avoid crashing into me headlong, I notice the second dent on the driver's side door. This is definitely my Uncle.

The man who jumps off the jeep has beaming, tanned face. The shape of his mouth and his pale blue eyes, are just like me, just like Dad. He wears such casual clothes that I find myself feeling conscious of the fact that my garb is flamboyantly out of the way. He touches the hem of his baseball cap, a nervous quirk, I think. The way he looks at me, I can guess he is noticing the resembling family features too. When he speaks, I nearly cry out. His voice is like Dad also, warm, gruff and friendly.

"Well you do look a lot like Paul," he says.

I am so overwhelmed by him and his sudden friendly approach that I finally give way to my emotions. I throw my arms around my Uncle and cry into his shoulder, finally mourning my father's death with my family member, as is proper. Burt holds me close and rubs a hand down my back. He doesn't say anything; he just waits for me to cry as much as I am able. When I finally let go, he smiles at me softly. I notice his eyes are a little damp too.

"Feeling better, Kurt?" he asks.

The way he says my name, as if he had said it all his life, makes me comfortable more than anything. In just a few minutes this man had gone from a complete stranger to a family member. Maybe my life isn't as cruel as I thought.

"Yes," I say shakily. "A lot better, thanks, Uncle."

"Call me Burt, kid."

He picks up my bags without question, places them in the back seat. I hop into the passenger side seat. He climbs in next to me and starts up the engine with a roar.

"How was your journey?" he says as he makes a wide U-turn on the tar road, and plunges into the dirt road of Hilltown once again. "

It was long, but fine." I answer. I keep looking at his face, memorizing his features that are so familiar to my Dad's. "I hope it rains, though."

I don't know what makes me say that, but Burt lets out a raucous laugh at this. His eyes visibly twinkle and I find myself more in love with my Uncle. "Keep hoping. Maybe your hopes will compel the gods to have mercy on us."

He snatches up a bottle of water for me from somewhere near his seat. I take it with a smile, happy that he realized I must be thirsty. I gulp down the water, keeping my eyes on Burt. I hadn't realize he was religious-type.

"What do you mean?" I ask, pausing a moment before chugging down the water again.

"Well, no rains for almost a year," he says, a little loud so that I can hear him over the noisy engine. "The crops are suffering...and so are we." I just nod and finish the whole bottle in a few long pulls. "Now, your Aunt Carole is really excited for you to come over. Ever since Paul's lawyer called about you coming, she had been going crazy all around the house. So if we overdo the welcome on my wife's part, please, don't feel embarrassed." He grins. "We always wanted to meet you, you know. But your Dad had his own reasons to stay away."

He makes a swerving turn to avoid a tree that stand in the middle of the dirt-road. I jump in my seat, noticing how cunningly the people have curved the dirt-road around the tree instead of cutting it out of the way. I turn my attention to the road now, having memorized Burt's face enough. The trees are still motionless, there is no forest-sounds coming out of them. But I can now smell the earthy scents of forest and wet, muddy forest floor. For fifteen whole minutes, according to my rough estimate, we drive through the forest-trail. It sometimes goes straight without pause, but there are curves and roundabout passes too. I try remembering them all but no use.

Burt suddenly asks me, "Kurt, do have a mobile phone?"

I frown. "No. I couldn't keep my older one after it got confiscated."

He nods. "I'll buy you one soon, all right?"

I don't know what to say to that so I just smile and say, "Thank you, Burt."

Then suddenly, we break thought the trees and travel on the firmer, tar road. There are numerous numbers of lush, green and gold, fields around this road, and I feel my face lift in a smile. I've always liked traveling through fields and country pastures. This is amazing. Up ahead the road, far away, I can see a hazy, rounded mound on the rusty, cloudy horizon.

Burt follows my gaze. "Yes. That's Hilltown there. And these fields are our major source of income. We got the best barely, corn and wheat of the area."

I can now spot a few people working in the fields. I only see two tractors. The town is old and poor, I can imagine. But it just makes it all the more adventurous to me. I've never been anywhere like this—not even when Dad and I used to go to country side.

"So you trade in crops?" I inquire.

"No, not really," says Burt. "We barely fill our own needs, as you can see how poor the conditions are. There isn't much trade here. There are some farmers who take their haul down to a few nearby cities, and get proper due. But mostly, we keep it here."

Yes. Poor conditions. Now I know what he meant earlier about suffering. Lack of rain and dry earth got to be a hurdle in making satisfactory trade. Also, I can't imagine many people visiting this place. It is a bleak and desolate area—as the conductor said, a strange place for a town.

"Well, uh," says Burt awkwardly, "I know you are used to good education and home leisure, but, we don't have such comforts here. Now don't you worry," he adds hastily, as if thinking I'd find it disappointing. "You'll have your own room and I have enrolled you at the high school, too. My step-son, Finn, that's your cousin, goes to the same school. It's not high standard but it's the only one we've got."

"Thank you," I simply say, letting my gratitude seep into the words. He already has done more than I could've hoped from the relatives I'd never met before. Then I grin. "So...I have a cousin, huh?"

That makes him laugh out loud. "Ooh, yes. He's about your age and he's, well; he's not the brightest bulb you'll meet. Nonetheless, you'll like him, I just know it!" I laugh when he did. The idea of having a cousin is really nice. I am naturally unsuccessful at making friends and having a ready-made colleague would be a good thing for me.

The hazy mound now rises before us. I can see the town now. There is security barrier with three very alert guards. Odd, considering how unpopulated the road is. The guards wave and nod to my uncle as we pass by.

"Stan, McKay, Bosky." My uncle inclines his head to the three of them in turn, smiling.

We now enter the town's market area. There are all kinds of shops required for the living in any area—electronic, barber, garments, hardware etc. There is also a grubby bar with few elderly farmers visible through glass windows. We also pass a few inns, not too popular as they aren't crowded. Then we reach the town square. This place is by far the most crowded I'd seen in here. There are new establishments of garments, jewelers, and a bank. There is a corner inn, named the Hill Tavern, which is as crowded as any McDonalds's outlet would be in normal circumstances—people coming out with packed food and huge smiles. There is a HillyRadio11.22 headquarter, a booster tower jutting out of the four storey building. There is also a Hill TV station. I smile in bewilderment at my uncle, who simply shrugs modestly.

Then we are at the center of the town, and I understand. The mound is actually a hill; small, green and lonely. Huh, Hilltown. Figures. There are walking tracts that lead up the hill's slopes. I stick my head out of the jeep to see the hilltop. There is a single, ranch-like building on top of the hill, dented and obscured by huge trees around it.

"That's the Dalton House," says Burt. "It used to be a hotel before but now a bunch of people live there. But we also get most of our food supplies from up there. The items mostly we can't get easily." We are now making a curving turn at the road at the base of the hill, trying to get past it. "Riley Puckerman, the owner of the Hill Tavern you saw in the square, also depends on the store for their daily ingredients."

My eyes are still fixed on the ranch. I find it fascinating, and wish that I'd get to visit this Dalton House sometime.

We are traveling on the straight road again; only now, the hill is on our back. I look around and find myself in your standard suburbs. Oh, the distance between the houses varies from too close to a little far, but it is the usual, wooden country dwellings. Burt sometimes greets the people walking by on the pavements or laughs at the kids who play in their front yards. It is a nice, small-town folks like community and I like it.

He then turn into the drive way of a two storey house painted off-white and blue. The yard is neatly overflowing with flowers and unkempt but healthy green grass, the kind you want to roll in. He turns the engine off and the silence ring in my ears for a few minutes, before the bird-song and playing-kid noises fill my head. Burt walks me to the door. There is a dragon-shaped knocker on it, but Burt presses the bell button. The smell of pies wafts out of the house and I grin at my uncle. He flashes me a Dad-like grin too.

The door flies open and there stands a tall boy, flashing us a huge smile. I assume he is my cousin, Finn. "Hello, Dad," he greets Burt cheerily and then me. "Hello, you must be Kurt. It's so nice to meet you. Come in!"

He sticks out his hand and I shake it lightly. I've known ever since I was thirteen that I was gay. Nobody knew about it except for my Dad. But now that he is dead and gone, and now that I am here, it's my new beginning. Maybe, I will find somebody, a girl if at all possible, to fall in love. But even as I analyze this, I feel an uncomfortable swoop in my stomach. Cousin Finn is very handsome. And I internally have to berate myself from making any mistake with him.

So I put on my best fake-smile and step inside the Hummel house. Finn helps Burt with my bags. It is amazing. A staircase leads up to the second floor just beside the front door. At the left there is a small but homely den. Fire place, chairs, a sofa set in lime and red color, the pictures above the fireplace, lamps and a bookshelf. It is the most beautiful home I'd been in—or maybe it is beautiful to me as I'd lived my life as a gypsy most of the time. There is a lived-in feel to the place that I admire right away.

"Let's get them pies while they're hot," says Burt as he enters behind me and then rushes me into the kitchen door. The pie-smell is overwhelming in here and my mouth waters. And beside the oven is the woman who is definitely my Aunt Carole. She has brown hair and kind eyes, with a friendly face. She wears an apron and is taking out two huge pies just as we enter.

"Oh," she says, her face melting like hot chocolate into a smile. "There you are, dear! It's so nice to meet you, honey." And she comes to give me a hug. "How was your journey? Are you tired? I bet you are!"

"I—I'm fine. Aunty Carole. I am fine."My mouth is dry again but not from thirst. This is the most warming welcome I'd ever had. I feel right at home and it makes me want to cry.

"Just Carole, dear. And you," she rounds on her husband, pushing Burt playfully. "I could've used a little warning! Look at me, all sweaty and in my apron! You should've given me time to—"

"Mom," says Finn, exhausted but with love, "You look amazing."

"Humph," she replies but looks pleased. "Well, the lunch is ready to go down our bellies. But you need to freshen up first. Finn, show your cousin to his room, dear."

"Sure. Come on, Kurt," he says and leads me out of the kitchen.

He picks up my bags without complain before we walk upstairs. As we go up, he flashes me another big smile over his shoulder. I look down to hide the blush that spreads all over my face. It would not do to expose my secret to my new family yet—a secret, I am sure, is a forbidden one in this simple household.

"This," he says, pointing at the door at top of the landing, "is Mom and Dad's room. The next two doors in the hallway are our rooms. This is mine," he stops at the door on the left. "And this is yours."

I open the door at the right side. It is a small but brightly lit room. The walls are painted lime-yellow. A bed, closet, dressing table, and a bathroom. It had all one can need. There is also a study table. I walk to the window and look outside. I can see the front yard, the jeep still in the driveway. I bite my lips.

"Well?"

I look around and see Finn still standing in the doorway, waiting for my reactions. He has placed my bags inside already. I want to break down again. This is so much kinder of them than I ever imagined---and I confess, I'd imagined my relatives to be extremely bad people, completely out of protest to my Dad's death. So I just say to Finn, "This is...nice."

I had barely said that that a voice floats up. "Finn. Kurt. Lunch!"

Finn bites back his laughter. "Yeah—we call it the Siren. Whenever it sounds, we have to respond. Otherwise my old woman gets fussy, more than she usually is."

"I'll be right there," I say and he leaves me after another smile. I am starting to like this signature smile of his.

I hurry inside the bathroom—which is small but neat—and wash my face. I skip my plans of changing clothes and only shed my jumper; it isn't needed. The humid air hasn't gotten any better. Beneath, I wear a cotton shirt with red strips around the neck.

I look at myself in the mirror. My face is the same as ever. Chestnut-brown hair. Green-blue-grey eyes. Pale face. But I can see that I am hopeful for my new life here with my new family. I smile at myself and then go downstairs.

The dining table is in the kitchen too. Uncle and Finn are already sitting there, slicing up the steak. Aunty Carole is flustering over me before long. She gives me so much to eat that I just stare at my plate in dread. Am I supposed to finish this all?

"Carole, the boy ain't the farmer," says Uncle Burt, saving me. "Let him choose his own bit, please."

I am about to empty my plate in the dish when Finn points in his own. So I empty half my lunch in his plate. Then we start eating.

Aunty Carole keeps up a constant stream of chatter. Sometimes asking me random questions which I answer either in Yes or No. But mostly she talks to the air, about various friends of hers from the town and about the problems various friends' husbands have with their harvest.

When I look at Uncle in query, he shrugs and mouths "She's doing it all the time. Get used to it."

Then Finn suddenly says, "So I never had a cousin-brother before. This is going to be interesting."

I grin. His sincere smile, his open acknowledgement of me as a brother—it's all I need for my resolve to harden. No, I will not mess this up with him. I shall love him, yes, but as my brother only. "I'd never had a brother also. It's going to be fun."

"I can't wait for you to get to school with me," he says with a smile. "You'd love it. I hope."

"I'm looking forward to it," I say truthfully. The rest of the lunch goes by smoothly. Unless you count Aunty Carole talking to Uncle Burt about various household things. However thankfully, she doesn't ask me anything more. But then she follows me to my room and start asking if I needed anything? I assure her I needed nothing. Then she leaves me with many best wishes and smiles.

I unpack my bags; place my clothes in the closet neatly. I just had time to select my best collection before leaving for here, my wardrobe is severely lacking. I wonder if Carole may help me in shopping, and if this backward town has good fashion sense at all.

Then I empty my rucksack on the bed. It is mostly filled with my favorite books and selective music. I arrange them on my study table. I also fish out three or four folders—not mine, strictly speaking—but my father's. The lawyer had no idea what to with these so he gave them to me for safe keeping. I place them in my study table drawer. Then I take out two framed pictures out of the bag, and place them on the study too. One is of me and Dad when I was five years old, I sat on his lap. The other one is a year old. We were in a hiking camp, our arms around each other, and smiles on our faces. I then take out an envelope. From what I can feel through my fingers, it is a wad of letters and important documents. But there is a note stuck under the address, the only thing I have read. It is my Dad's bequeath to Uncle Burt.

I go downstairs with the envelope. Burt is sitting in front of the HTV evening news. He greets me with a smile and keeps his attention on the screen.

"Er, Burt, I have to show you something."

"Oh." He turns the TV off and looks at me attentively.

I glance at the note as I pass him the envelope. I had read it so many times that I knew the words by heart. Although, it makes no sense to me. "Dad had this note for you. It was in his last will that I give it to you."

He takes the note, his face somber and read:

Burt— Protect him from everyone. There's no one else I trust anymore than you.

I love you.

—Paul.

But as Uncle reads the note, his pale blue eyes turn sad and excited at the same time. He looks up at me with shining eyes and I see conflict going on in his head. It's almost as if he wants to tell me something, or ask me something, but dares not to.

I become self-conscious under his conflicted stare and change subject. "Aren't you going to open the envelope?"

"I will," he says, and sniffs a little. "Not now, though. I'm not sure if you..." he sighs, "just not yet."

I only nod in response. It is clear that he has some big thoughts in this matter—whatever that may be—and he wants time. So I don't press him for anything.

"His last message for me," he mumbles with a soft smile at me. "I'll have to make sure I follow his instructions." He takes my hand and squeezes. "Kurt, you have to adjust first. Okay? We'll keep you safe but you have to adjust."

I have no idea what he means but I nod like an idiot anyway. He seems satisfied. "Meanwhile," he adds with a twinkle-eyed smile. "Be happy Kurt. Just be happy."

I smile back. That's exactly what I plan to do now with my life. Be happy with my new family. As a new me—all secrets have to remain secrets. I have to build a new guise for Kurt Hummel, a guise everyone will accept.

~~

My first night at my Uncle's. How to describe it, really? Surreal, too good to be true, strange—I have other thoughts too. But mostly, I am oddly happy. I am, at last, sleeping in a room that can be permanently mine. No more moving around for gypsy adventures—even if those adventures make me achingly miss my father.

Prior to retiring to bed, Carole has given me a bundle of extra blankets saying "It gets cold sometimes in the night."

At first I thought she was just joking—I mean, I was sweating during the dinner, that's how humid it is here, but maybe that was just my nerves—but when I wake up, I am trembling, my teeth chattering. My wall clock declares that it is 2:34 A.M. The extra blankets are on the study table chair. I get out of the bed to get them, when I catch sight of something strange in the front yard through the window by which the study table is. I push aside the curtains for a good look.

And I stare.

I explicitly remember that Burt has just one jeep. But now, there are two more cars parked behind the jeep. A black Ford and a rusty VW truck in peeling white color. Now that I am fully awake, I distinctly hear murmured voices downstairs.

Before I can decide to eavesdrop—knowing fully well how rude it would be—the voices move to the den and towards the front door, right by the foot of stairs. I rearrange the curtains so that only my eyes are peeking out. The lights are off in my room so there's no chance of my silhouette giving me away either.

The front door opens and nine people come out of the house. From my perspective, I can only see them from up above and not their faces. But I can easily point out Burt and Finn, one of them being so tall and Burt still has his baseball cap on (does he ever takes it off). The others are all unknown to me.

One of them is older than everybody else; with graying hair and coarse beard. There's a tall, broad shouldered young man with him—he has a mohawk. He leans close to Finn as if engaged in conversation, and then slaps my cousin's shoulder in goodbye. The older man and mohawk-boy turn to leave in the battered VW.

There's a slim woman (rather I think it is a woman) she has short cropped blonde hair and she wears a flannel shirt and trousers and walks with a distinct proud stance (almost like a man). She says goodbye to Burt as well, her manner arrogant even from the window I can tell, and walks away toward the Ford.

Both the vehicles rumble out of the front yard and into the night. I have to close the curtains completely to avoid getting hit by the headlights and getting caught. Now there's a huddled group of four people around Burt. The eldest one of them, a strong looking dark-haired man engages Burt in silent conversation.

The other three, youngsters of around my age, stand right by the edge of the driveway, waiting for the elder one. Two of them, one fake-blond and one brunette, stand close together. The way they lean close and whisper to each other is intimate—or it seems to me because I can never talk that intimately with anyone, especially a boy.

The other one is rather short; he stands a little away from the close-friends. He wears a polo shirt of dark color, with half-sleeves. His arms are wrapped tightly around himself, and I think he shiver slightly every now and then, casting glances in the direction of Burt and the man as they talk. His head is a shock of dark hair, and from what I can tell in the cloudy night, very curly. He shifts nervously on his feet, as if he is impatient to get out of the cold.

But there are no more cars. I suddenly feel bad for him, for them all, because it seems like they will have to walk home in this cold night.

Soon, the man is shaking Burt's hand and walking toward the short-curly-haired boy. The boy speaks to the man softly and the man just shrugs, casting a parting glance in Burt's direction. Then the group walks away in the night. Finn and Burt stand watching them for a while and then they both turn toward the front door, talking softly.

I thought it better to jump back in my bed, and wait. I am so alert I can hear the night voices all around me, the chirping of insects outside, the creaking of floor boards as if people are walking around the house. After five minutes, I hear two doors silently closing shut out in the hallway.

I can't sleep after that. Why would my Uncle have visitors at this hour of the night? After a while, I curse myself. So what? Not like they are being mysterious about it. They can be my Uncle's pals for all I know, just having a get-together in the night. They'll probably tell me about it in the morning.

I lull myself to sleep finally, Carole's extra blankets helping me warm up nicely.

~~

They don't tell me anything the next morning. The only signs I can spot of the late-night visit is an ashtray full of ash in the den, and a few dishes in the sink that I helped clean with Aunt Carole last night. Burt looks a bit tensed but keeps talking about a field that needs planting. Finn on the other hand looks tired; he has this hopeless look of someone who didn't get a good night's sleep.

"Did we have guests last night?" I say casually, keeping my eyes on my plate. But I don't miss Finn looking up at me suddenly in my peripheral vision, his goofy eyes blinking confusedly.

Uncle Burt put his fork down calmly, observing me a while. "Yes, we did, actually. How did you know?"

"Oh, I thought I heard voices talking. But, I guess, I was too tired to get up." I hate lying like this. But I am trying to look like a good boy. A new Kurt, remember.

"Yes, my mentor and teacher, Old Riley, and his grandson came to meet me."

Aunt Carole rolls her eyes fondly. "Oh, they do that all the time! Late night smoking and drinking. But honey, can't you keep these nights off chart for a while. At least, let Kurt adjust here first."

Now I feel really bad. Without knowing it, I was getting suspicious of my Uncle. But if Aunt Carole is fine with it, who am I to criticize. "It's fine. You guys don't have to tone down your fun because of me," I say casually. "I didn't even notice it much, I was so tired!"

"They aren't bad," says Finn suddenly, looking at Burt, a silent request in his eyes. "I mean, its fun talking to Old Riley. He's hilarious."

Burt smiles at his step-son, conflict in his eyes again. He chews his food slowly, and nods. "Yes, I know. Old Riley's been much help to me and I trust him. But Noah? I just don't know."

Finn looks oddly abashed at having spoken up. He hastily eats last of his toast and gets up, carrying his plate to the sink.

"I think we should get going, Kurt," he says. I eat my breakfast hurriedly too and pick up my bag, the same rucksack, now filled with Finn's old books. According to my Uncle, the McKinley High School is at the walking distance. So we were walking to the school.

"How far is it?" I ask, as we get out of the house and on the pavement. It takes me a while to realize that Finn's long legs carry him faster, so I pick up my pace, internally worrying about humid-cloudy weather and sweating. I hate sweating.

"Twenty minutes if we take it easy." Finn is still edgy about something but he gives me a goofy smile before saying, "Why are you dressed like this?"

I nearly choke in my gasp at his words, looking down at myself. On purpose, I've ignored my usual clothing style and settled for wearing something simple. I am wearing a simple light-blue shirt and jeans (which were slightly tight, but these are the only less-tight pair I own) and a navy blue scarf around my neck, to alleviate the sweating problem. This situation isn't my favorite, but I have to blend in, adjust. It won't do to alienate myself on my first day of High School (I was a senior, technically, but I am starting mid-term due to the time wasted after Dad's death.)

Taking in my struck expressions, Finn hastily says, "Not that it doesn't look good! You look, nice, dude, really. Just that the clothes you wore in the house were more...nicer."

That makes me laugh. "You mean outstandingly so? Well, I don't know how people will think of my usual appearance here so...I chose to dress simple."

"Simple?" Finn questions me with a confused look. "Whatever you say, man."

So in Finn's opinion, THIS isn't simple? I will have to work harder the next time, seeing as these are the only simple clothes I have. We walk in silence for a while and I am slightly panting because of Finn's leaping steps. Finn looks at me and frowns, slowing down for me. I swear the first time I thought Finn was unobservant. But maybe he is just simple and innocent. His gesture of slowing down for me was more than enough proof of that.

"Finn, you look worried? Is something wrong?"

He bites his lips nervously and shuffles to a stop. We are at some sort of cross-street section now; a few cars pass us by.

He frowns at me and then says, "Are you in danger?"

His question catches me off guard and I just gape at him. "Uh...NO! Why do you think?"

"Well, you must be," he insists innocently. "Dad was—he just said to me that to keep an eye on you and make sure you are safe. He looked angry as if he wanted me to remember it. And I think that's one reason why Old Riley came last night—or why I was even allowed to stay up late. I stayed with Puck in the kitchen with Mom while they talked but I could've sworn Sue and Old Riley were talking about you. Although, I don't know why Mr. Anderson came last night but..."

The sudden launch into this speech and unknown names make me dizzy. I just stare at Finn as he rattles off about Sue and Old Riley (what kind of name is that?) and I have to shake my head to clear away the confusing thoughts.

"Finn! Stop! I don't get a thing you are saying. And I'm not in danger, okay. It's just my father's last message to Burt to keep me safe, I'm sure that's all he meant when he told you to keep an eye on me."

Finn just looks at me like a child solving up a huge problem. He shuffles on his feet nervously, as if thinking of a suitable retort to contradict me and explain, yet again, that Burt insisted. He really is the most sweet, innocent and pure person I've ever seen. There is no suspicion or judgment in him, just raw feelings and determination, even if he doesn't know how to talk freely. And I suddenly feel bad.

"Finn, I—I want to tell you something."

"Sure." There is his shy smile again. I am starting to like my cousin very much.

"I saw you guys from my window," I say as casually as I can.

"What?" His remaining vestiges of determination fall away and he looks miserably worried.

"Last night." I dare meet his eyes. He is only...terrified. But not angry at me. "From my window. I saw you all. But before I could guess who it was those guys just sat in their cars and went away."

"What...what else did you see?"

"That's it. I just told you because I felt bad lying before—in the house."

He pursed his lips in thought. "It wasn't a bad idea, you know, lying. Especially in front of my step-dad. But it's cool. You were just curious, I think. And whatever, just stay out of danger anyways, all right."

We start walking again. As I look around the town, I see a few people walking toward their business. A few young people are headed to school as well. Finn nods to a fair few people in greeting and they nod back, a few smile at me in welcome. I smile back slowly, thanking my lucky stars that they don't find my clothes outrageous.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," says Finn as the school building come in view. "You'll meet Puck and Jake today. They are Old Riley's grandkids."

"Cool."

It's funny but wherever you go, the Hill is visible; the Dalton House perched atop it. Like somebody is constantly keeping watch over everything. I feel a shudder run down my spine as I look up at it.

Finn sees me looking. "The real thing is weirder. I'll take you up there some day, OK?"

I shrug. "Whatever. I just haven't seen anything like it."

"I totally understand, dude."

McKinley High School is clean but smaller than any other school I'd seen. It looks as if it had thirty rooms and a playing field; I can just make out the bleachers at the other end of the field. As we enter the school, a dozen pairs of eyes turn my way. All of them curious, judgmental, or indifferent. Not a single one of them was hateful, or even welcoming. So I guess my clothes have earned a point.

I drop my gaze and follow my cousin. He takes me to the office, introduces me and gets my classes sorted for me.

There appears to be slight error in forms as Finn says, "I thought my step-dad sorted it out!" "

As you can see," says the office attendant, "This blank is empty. You can fill it or this will have to go to Figgins."

Finn tears at his lips with his teeth and says, "Fine. I'll see Figgins. Come on, Kurt!"

And then we are hurrying along after the office attendant. I don't know who Figgins is but we stop outside the office that has a plaque saying "Principal" outside the door.

"He'll see you now," says the attendant and we enter.

Figgins is the half-bald man with brown skin and serious expression. He acknowledges us both with a nod and gestures toward the empty chairs. "Mr Hudson and Hummel, take a seat."

"Just Hummel, thank you," Finn grumbles. "I have no more relation with my dead father." Figgins only nods. His eyes are glued to me and I suddenly look away, trying not to blush. But really I can't contr

ol the reactions my traitor body has. "So what's the error in Mr Hummel's forms?"

Finn gives him the file and says, "One blank is left empty—and I don't know if to just fill it."

Figgins frowns at the empty blank and sniffs. "Burt never mentioned it when he talked about enrolling Kurt here. You should call him."

Finn shuffles over to the other side of table where Figgins' phone was and punched in the number, waiting for Burt to pick up on the other line. "Oh, hey, Dad. Yeah, I wanted to ask—Kurt's forms are not finished. There's a blank left empty and they want to know if I should fill it." Finn's eyes get wide and he nods nervously, before remembering that Burt can't see him. "Okay. Okay, I will. Are you sure? You didn't even ask Kurt if...Oh. Fine. Okay. Bye, Dad."

The whole thing, this whole trip to Figgins' office just because my form was unfinished by just one blank, makes no sense to me whatsoever. Clearly there's much I have to learn. I just sit quietly and watch as Finn put down the receiver and comes to sit by me.

"Fine, I will fill in the blank now," he says to Figgins, taking the file from him.

I slide closer and take a look at the school admission form. It's all filled with correct details, as far as I can see. There's one blank empty though, and I stare at it in confusion. Is it the standard question to ask in a school admission form?

Sworn To: ________.

Finn bites his lips some more and gives in after a heavy sigh. He snatches a pen from pencil holder on Figgins' desk and, with trembling hand, fills in the blank.

Sworn To: Hummels.

Figgins nods once and says to me with a small smile, "Welcome to McKinley High, Kurt. Now off to classes both of you, they are about to start."

On our way to classes, Finn looks over at my class schedule again—I know he is distracted and uneasy still, and he is only doing it because he wants to be sure of everything—and nods to himself after every subject he sees.

"Whoa, Advanced French!" he gasps, impressed. "Looks like you have all the other classes with me and Puck."

"That's good," I say, but my mouth feels dry. People have started to ignore me now, which is good. Now anyone barely looks up at me. "You can totally keep me safe that way."

Finn, obviously, doesn't get my sarcasm and smiles goofily. "Come on, we have English together."

I have a lot to ask. What does it mean, Sworn To? I'm not sworn in to anything, let alone anyone. Why would such a thing cause us a trip to the principal's office? And why does it even matter if or if not my sir-name is Hummel.

We enter the English class and a loud shout of "Hummel!" greets us. A second later, a big, strong looking guy with a mohawk hug-tackles Finn. Then his eyes fall on me. I try not to blush because he is handsome as well! Seriously, why is everyone handsome around me? And why does my body react this way to men? A question I have asked myself countless times, with no answer.

"This is Kurt," says Finn, oblivious to me reddening face. "Kurt, this is my friend Noah Puckerman."

"But you just call me Puck," says Puck and holds out his hand. I shake it slightly, feeling my stomach do somersaults. "What's up, man, you look you're about to faint."

"I—I am just nervous," I mutter out somehow. Puck bursts out laughing. "I'm just messing with you, dude. Peace?" He holds out his hand again.

This time when I take it, he yanks me into him and bumps our shoulder together. A squeak leaves my mouth and my eyes pop out of my skull. Puck looks concerned at my reaction, but at that moment a sardonic comment flows toward us.

"Who is this lady-man?" a female voice says. Puck and Finn visibly tense.

I turn around to look at three beautiful looking girls, dressed in red and white outfits of cheerleaders. They must be one of those famous girls, worshipped by everyone in the school. The one who spoke, I assume, is a hot Hispanic girl with wavy dark hair. She stands with her arms crossed on her voluptuous chest.

"It's my cousin, Kurt," Finn mumbles, looking a bit angry for some reason.

"Ahh, new meat," the sexy blonde on the right side of the girl says with a glint in her eyes.

As if she'd said some magic word or a swear word, Puck dives into action.

One moment, I am looking at the trio, and next, Puck is standing in front of me, looking ready to fight. I gasp at the display of hostility from the girls, because they look ready to fight back. The sexy-blonde curls her taloned hands readily, the Hispanic girl uncrosses her arms and pops her knuckles, while the other blonde only looks on with vague expression on her face.

"Back off, Santana," Puck nearly growls. "He's off limits."

For one wild moment I think that Puck means I am not available for a relationship. But that thought dies down when the girl, Santana, hisses out.

"Who says?" he sexy-blonde girl retorts menacingly.

"He's sworn with the Hummels," Finn says, looking tall and awkward but ready to back up Puck if need be. I almost say that "No, I'm not sworn to anyone!" but something makes me keep my mouth shut.

Then I feel a strong hand take mine from behind, and it takes all in me to not squeal like a girl. I whip around and find myself face to face with a stylish, heavyset black girl. Her expression is warm and friendly and she tugs at my hand till I am seated beside her. On my other side, an Asian boy sits. He gives my shoulder a friendly squeeze before looking back at the confrontation.

"Liar," says the vague-looking blonde girl. "You can't prove it without Wolverine's certification." Nobody pays her mind.

At that moment, the door swings open and the teacher enters the class. He stops short at the three girls and two boys in the face off. "Girls, break it up," he admonishes. If I wasn't so distracted, I would've thought that he almost looks tentative. "We have a class here."

Santana gives him a malicious/sexy smile and swings her way to one of the empty chair. Sexy blonde and vague blonde follow her and sit side by side. Puck and Finn sit close to me and my two neighbors and the teacher starts the class.

It takes me a while to calm down, my body still rushes with adrenaline and terror. Is this normal school behavior? Is this how teenagers here act in order to settle their disputes? Like, go wild west—don't mind if they are boys vs. girls—and just rip each other off however possible?

The girl, who still holds my hand, squeezes it reassuringly. I finally look at her fully and the first thought that crosses my mind is: That's a nice shirt. Even though, it's absolutely bright, it hugs her heavy body nicely. This girl seems to have some fashion sense; I can guess that we'll get along just fine. I smile at her, letting her know I am fine.

"I'm Mercedes Jones," she introduces herself. "That boogie over there is Mike Chang." I look at the Asian boy, who smiles at me fleetingly before returning to the teacher's lesson.

"Kurt," I mumble. "What—what was that?" I don't need to elaborate what I mean.

She frowns slightly and asks instead, "You sure you are a Hummel?"

"Yes, my father was Paul Hummel, Burt's youngest brother. Why dose it matter?"

"Well then you don't need to worry, boy." She winks at me. "I'll explain what the Unholy Trinity wanted later."

By Trinity, I assume, she means the trio who was harassing me. I sneak a look at where they are sitting and nearly gasp out loud. The Santana woman has her eyes on me, as if she's watching my every move like a pro chess player.

"Who are they?" I ask Mercedes.

"Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabrey and Brittney St. Pierce," says Mercedes in a monotone. "People you should avoid at all cost."

I nod readily. I have no intention of interacting with these three girls again. I now turn my attention to the teacher, Mr Robertson, who is explaining about Twelfth Night. I silently hope that my first day doesn't get any worse than it already has.

But as always, my hopes go down the gutter.

The first two periods are a blur. Finn and Mercedes accompany me through the hallways. Puck and Mike say short goodbyes and head to their other classes. History is mismatched collection of seniors and juniors together, the teacher droning on without making any sense. I met Jake Puckerman, Noah's half-brother here. He looks almost sane compared to Puck and doesn't go into extreme bro-greetings with me. His best friend Rider Lynn stares at my clothes for a while then says, "Dude, that's an awesome scarf!" and then just ignores me for the rest of the period.

Mercedes takes it on herself to introduce me to the other people present. Tina Cohen-chang who is engaged to Mike, Sam Evans who smiles so blindingly at me that my face stays red for the whole period, a boy with Irish accent called Rory Flag-something. They all seem to be welcoming and my hopes just go a bit higher. Maybe this school isn't the worst idea anyways.

But then three people enter the classroom, their eyes roaming the faces till they land on me, identical sneers crop up on their faces, and then they stamp-walk to their seats and sit down.

They aren't the Trinity girls. One of them is a hulking boy, looks like a jock what with his lettered jacket. One is a copper haired girl, who looks as if she owns the land she walks on. The other plump looking girl with stylish heavy glasses, there's a constant frown on her face.

Mercedes doesn't waste a moment before saying, "That beast is Dave Karofsky. The fat one is Lauren Zizes with a big mouth on her—Puck seems to like her I don't know why! And the slim one is Sugar Motta, Sheriff Motta's daughter. They are with the Trinity, so you know better than to stare." I quickly snatch my eyes away from their hate-filled faces.

They don't attempt to have a word-fight with any of us, so History class goes by without incident. Except for the fact that I feel many eyes on my back. I feel concerned gazes of my new friends, and I feel sneers of the three people who seem to hate me even if I haven't done anything wrong to them. I was going to have words with Burt and Mercedes about the way things worked in this school. It is like it's divided into groups according to their family status—if "sworn to Hummels" have anything to go by—and people seem to have pride regarding what group they belong to. There is clearly much that I do not understand. But that will change after I speak with Burt.

In my Adv. French class, I have no friend. But there seem to a boy who takes one look at me and sneers. I am guessing he has something to do with Trinity as well, which is the only explanation of why he hates me without even getting to know me better. And how do these people know who to look at and sneer anyways? Oh, yes, I am the new kid. But my dress has proven itself during the first half of the school, it wasn't attracting any attention.

One the plus side, my teacher loved my French fluency and pronunciation. On the down side, Azimio was partnered with me and I had to endure his hateful looks throughout the class. Good thing his French sucks.

By the time the break arrives, I have to prowl the hallways on my own. I have forgotten the new locker assigned to me and I am waiting for some divine intervention. I was getting looks again, but those are mostly the "look-there's-the-new-kid" looks. Instead, I start looking for familiar faces to ask for help at least. But that plan doesn't work out very well.

A shoulder pounds into my side and I nearly fly toward the rows of lockers, my head banging against the handle. It will bruise, great. I find myself on the floor when my head clears, I just catch sigh of a letterman jacket vanishing into the crowd. The name, Karofsky, adorning the back.

And then a pair of strong arms helps me into standing position. I turn to face the kind looking boy with dreadlocks. "Are you okay, Kurt?" he asks me kindly.

I nod and then blink. "You know me?"

"Everyone knows you," he smiles modestly. And at my stricken expression he adds, "Puck kinda made sure of it."

"Oh," is all I say. "Thank you, for helping me."

I try to get going on my way but he stops me with his strong grip. "Don't worry, Kurt," he insists. "I'm one of the good guys."

"Yeah, I gathered from your non-sneering face." I blush at realizing how sarcastic I was being after his help. "I'm sorry."

He smiles again. "I meant, let me walk you to your locker and then we can catch the others in the café. If I am helping you, I might as well go all the way, right?" On second thought he holds out his hand. "I'm Joe Hart by the way."

I smile thankfully and let him lead me to another hallway and in front of a locker that I recognize as my own. "Thank you," I say again as I put my things away. "So is this normal behavior, the jocks throwing us into lockers?"

Joe looks embarrassed at my question and says, "No, its only new kids. Or more distinctly, only you. They didn't like that you got backed by Puck and Figgins after what happened this morning."

I open my mouth and then close it. I had no idea that Principal Figgins backed me too. "Oh."

"Is it true that Puck punched Fabrey's guts out?" asks Joe, a note of wonder in his voice.

"What? No, of course not. Mr Robertson broke it up before the gut-wrenching began."

He looks disappointed. "Oh, I guess Puck was being exaggerating...as usual."

We are in the café now. The sense of division, the grouping, hits me hard as I look around. Some tables are flowing with people, while the others are populated scarcely. But everyone looks as if they are in the rightful place, they look content. I feel momentarily thrilled at the fact that my table is the crowded one of them all.

Finn stands looking around as we approach. His face breaking into a goofy smile as he spots us. "Thanks for bringing him, Joe," he says. "I was worried that Sam forgot I asked him to."

"I didn't!" says Sam from his seat at the table. He is busy stuffing his face with macaroni cheese. "I asked Joe to do it instead!"

Mercedes pats an empty chair beside her and I drop into it. She is the only one who notices my bruising forehead. "Yo, what happened, boy?" she asks loud enough to gain everyone's attention.

Finn looks confused. "Did somebody fight with you, man?"

"No," I try to say but Joe overrides me.

"It was Karofsky! He pushed him into a locker."

Puck gets up swearing colorfully. "That bastard! I told them you were off limits!"

"Peace, Puck," says a girl sitting near him. And is that a shirt with teddy bears she is wearing? "You'll get us all into trouble." But Puck is still standing, glaring toward the table where the Unholy Trinity and their friends sit.

"OYE, LOSERS!" Puck shouts across the café. "I TOLD YOU HE'S OFF LIMITS!"

Santana stands up and says, "Yeah, we heard you the first ten times, baldy!"

"Then how do you explain this?" Puck snarls. And then garbs and rotates my face so that I am displayed to the whole café, every one of them staring at us. "Why's his face bruised, Satan?"

I watch as Santana's eyebrow shots up. I look at Karofsky and see that he looks worried that he left evidence of his crime.

"Well it's not our fault that your lady-boy can't walk without stumbling," says Sugar Motta archly.

Puck looks ready to kill, but reins himself in as he says, "If any of you touch him again, I'll take this to the Mayor."

Santana and her crew only look away and start eating their lunch. Puck lets go of my face and sits down, trying to calm his anger.

I feel rattled. I hadn't realized that my situation was worthy of a complaint to Mayor! But in a way, I feel happy too. My friends—if they really are that to me now—seem to be standing up for me. Apart from my father nobody had done that for me before. My previous school life was a hell where I had to speak for myself. It felt a nice change.

When the last period ends, I follow Rory to my locker—just as Finn wanted me to. The Irish kid stays with me long enough till Finn appears with both Puckerman boys. Rory flashes me a smile and says, "Later, Kurt," and leaves. Finn and the Puckermens pretend not to notice.

"What's this?" I ask Finn, trying not to color up.

"What's what?"

"Why am I being herded like a criminal all over the hallways?"

It's Puck who replies, "So that Karofsky stays away."

"Well, locker slams are no big deal for me," I try to say as nonchalantly as I can. "I got them all the time in my previous school. I don't see why I need escorting, not like he'll kill me."

For some reason this makes them stop short. I swear I see Finn and Jake exchange glances. Puck bites his lips and shrugs, "Of course not, man! They wouldn't do that." His tone isn't convincing enough and for the first time I feel the weight of my lack of knowledge of this place.

"They really could hurt me, can't they?" I ask clearly. I can see that Finn is struggling to refute me but Jake's wide grimace gives him away. Puck simple nods.

"What's with this place!" I gasp out, no longer able to play cool. "Why are they treating, me like this? They don't even know me!"

"There's more to it than just that, dude," Puck sighs sympathetically. He reaches out and pats my shoulder, then snatches his hand away. He looks at me to ascertain if I would react like I did in the morning. But I was far too worried for that.

"Then explain it to me!" I try to keep my voice blunt but a snivel escapes me nonetheless. I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

"For now you just need to know a few things, all right," Puck says seriously, looking me in the eyes. "Keep away from the Trinity at all cost. Try to escape if you are alone and they seem to be near you. And keep up with all my pips; they are in all your classes."

"I understand," I say confidently. "And you haven't told me why."

"And lastly," Puck goes on as if I hadn't interrupted. "Never ask WHY. Keep you head down and float with the flow, Okay?"

Again, I nod. But so help me, now I really needed to talk to Burt!

~~

Burt isn't home when we get there. Finn had conveniently kept his mouth shut on the walk home, and I stopped asking after my third try. This was something I needed to handle on my own. Finn dumps his bag somewhere and settles in front of the TV for his football game. Carole has made us some lemonade and after the muggy walk back home and my sweaty state, it was a welcome reprieve.

"When is Burt going to come home?" I ask Carole.

"He'll be at his shop for a few more hours," she says with a smile.

"How was your day, honey?" Finn stiffens on the couch. But I just smile.

"Oh, nice. I made new friends! Mercedes and Tina are so nice. And I met Puck and his brother!" Finn shrinks down at my enthusiastic tone and Carole looks relieved.

"Boys, do you want something to eat?" she asks as she goes into the kitchen.

"No, thank you," I say, following her, as Finn yells, "YES!" I'm not sure if it's a reaction to game or an answer to Carole's question.

But Carole seems to know as she starts up on lasagna of some sort. "All right, dear. Get showered you have to be at the station soon."

"Station?"

She smiles at me. "Yes, Finn works evenings at the Filling Station. Burt owns it. In fact, it's the only one in the entire town."

This makes me curios to voice my thoughts. "This place seems so...reserved and backwards than any town I've ever seen."

From my tone she guesses that I'm not being insulting. "Yes, Hilltown is not an easy place for city-dwellers like you."

"Why is that?" I ask, hoping that she understands how important her answering was to me.

She looks at me as if judging. Her eyes roaming my face. Then she purses her lips. "This is something you have to talk to Burt about. I'm sorry."

"Well, I'll be in my room. I need a shower."

After a shower, I don my "nicer" clothes, sighing audibly when I look into the mirror and coif my hair stylishly. Finally, I look like my self. At that moment, Finn thunders into my room, without knocking. "Did you tell her?" he demands. "Of course, not!"

"Then why did she ask me if you got hurt?"

Oh, right. I point to my forehead where the pinkish-purplish bruise is.

Finn shakes his head dumbly. "You can't tell her anything, Kurt. She'll get worried for nothing. Dad specifically warned my not to involve Mom in any of this."

"If she asks me I'll say that I banged my head in wardrobe door," I make up a lie. "But you guys need to tell me what's going on, Finn. Mercedes said that if I'm a Hummel than I don't need to worry and then the kids at school—the Trinity—they go out of their way to torment me. And why do I need escorts around, Finn! I'm a free citizen not a lunatic who needs looking after."

Finn smiles genuinely. "Its not you. I mean it is You, but not—ah man, Burt will talk to you in details. Besides, I was in the kitchen with Puck when they came over last night. Whatever they discussed, they didn't tell me."

I frown. "You mean that last night's meeting was because of me?"

He nods jerkily. "Yeah. That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. They were talking about you and they we kinda worried."

"And how come the Mayor gets involved? Why would Puck talk to the Mayor?"

Finn shrugs simply. "'cause what they tried to do was against the town rules."

"What rules?!"

Finn smiles again and backs out of my room. "That you need to ask from Dad. Don't worry. You'll catch up about the way things work here." And he shuts the door.

I stay downstairs with Carole when Finn finally goes away to his filling station job. Carole and I watch TV and I find it rather disturbing how Hilltown-y the themes of every show seem. I swear even the locations are around town, and in one of the musical-sitcoms, a girl stars who looks a lot like that animal-sweater wearing girl.

"Who's she?" I ask Carole.

"That's Rachel!" Carole says with extra enthusiasm. "Finn talks about this girl all the time. Rachel Berry this, Rachel Berry that! He's quiet smitten. Didn't you meet her today?"

"Puck introduced me around the table and Mercedes told me names of many of the students, but I can't remember them all," I say evasively. No need to tell Carole that the whole day I was more focused on the haters than the friendly circle of people, that I spent the whole day watching my back for just a few Trinity members.

A few more minutes pass and the doorbell ring. I oblige Carole by taking the door, and Burt stands there, looking exhausted and grimy after a long day's work. But he still smiles at me with the twinkle in his eyes, reminding me acutely of Dad.

"How was your day, kid?"

I smile for now. Burt looks far too exhausted for me to unleash my problems at the doorway. "It was good."

He looks satisfied. "Finn off to work already?"

"Yes, he left an hour ago." I take his baseball cap when he takes it off, hanging it on the hook by the door.

I let Burt shower and eat first. Then we sit in front of 9 o' clock news. Carole retires shortly after clock chimes 10. She kisses me on my cheek as a goodnight and then Burt and I are alone.

"Burt? Can I—there's something I need to ask you."

Burt doesn't look at all surprised at my sudden hesitation. In fact, he turns off the TV readily and turns to me attentively.

I start off a little patchy, but before long my emotions run high and I am spilling about everything to him. I tell him all the details of my first eventful day at school, about the hostility directed toward me and about my own uncertainties. I may even have divulged something about my sexuality—when I wanted to explain my reaction to my male friends—but Burt listens to me calmly. Then I fall silent, and both of us just look at each other.

"You're gay," says Burt for starters. I gulp. From all he things I have said, this was the last thing I thought he'd catch up on.

But I resign myself to whatever fate there may be. "Yes, I am."

"Were you openly gay in California?"

"No, I wasn't. Dad and I moved a lot. I barely stayed in any school longer than a year or two. But yes, my sophomore years were constant in California, and I outed myself."

"First of all, I don't give a damn if you like boys or tigers," Burt says with heat and sincerity. I nearly burst into tears but he continues talking. "Secondly, the reaction of some kids at school has a lot more to do with your past than your dressing or sexuality. And thirdly, things work according to a system in Hilltown. The sooner you become a part of this system, the easier it'll be for you."

"You mean cast system?' I hedge derisively.

Burt looks mortified but admits. "Yes. There's ruling class, the kids who harassed you today. And then there's serving class. We, Hummels, belong to the serving class. Heck, everyone in town belongs to serving class. And if you don't belong to anyone, group or family, you are worst then insects. That's why those girls assumed you were not from any family, and that's why they were pissed when Puck defended you. The ruling class wants excuses to treat people like shit. And as an outsider and new-in-town kid, you were the easiest target."

I sit stunned at what he said. What kind of medieval, backward system this was? It's a free country, for the love of Marc Jacobs!

"Good thing I talked to Figgins after Finn called me about that form. Just trust Figgins or even Sue Sylvester when things go out of hand in school. I talked to them; they agreed to keep an eye on you. As the time pass, you will cease to be the new-kid and they will leave you alone. But for now, stay tuned to what Puck and Finn say, all right son?" Burt smiles softly and caresses my bruise with his thumb. His eyes look almost angry as he stares at my forehead. But as Puck had earlier, Burt reins in his anger and says nothing.

It wasn't all but at least some things were clear to me. So I assure my Uncle I understand and bid him goodnight. For a long time, I lay awake in my bed, thinking. At midnight, the doorbell ring once, and I hear Finn's mumbling voice downstairs in den.

By the time sleep invades me, only two things makes sense. Burt didn't hate me because I'm gay and Hilltown sucks.