William Schuester sat in his office with hundreds upon hundreds of pictures laid out before him. He had a plan, a brilliant one in his mind,—he was going to pick the most eligible boys in the whole o the Unite States to attend the school he founded.

Contemplating, he pointed to the headshot of one Blaine J. Anderson. He turned to his assistant Sue Sylvester and asked for her opinion. “What about this one? Bring up his application please.”

Sue smiled down at her boss as she pulled up the information on the computer. It was just a clear piece of glass with a screen that was projected on it from an unknown source. To control it, all Sue had to do was touch the huge screen, sliding items across.

William read the information out loud:
Blaine Jason Anderson
Age: 16
Attends Dalton Academy for Boys in Westerville, Ohio.
Lead soloist of the a capella glee club, the Warblers.
Skills: Singing, Acting, Climbing Furniture, Piano, Guitar, Disney Enthusiast.
Credits: First place in 7 different singing competitions, Private lessons for 10 years in Piano and Guitar, Acting classes for 6.

Mr. Schuester laughed at his “skills”. “He seems like quite the character, doesn’t he Sylvester?”

Sue frowned. “A character, sure. But I’m not sure if I trust him.” She sighed, plopping down on the plush couch across the room. “He seems quite childish. Maybe he’s not mature—“

“That’s enough from you. I’m giving the boy a chance. It’s my school, therefore I will go by my own rules.”

Sue agreed, though secretly still wary of his choice. “I’ll start typing up his acceptance letter, then.”

~~~~~~~~

Two months ago, Westerville, Ohio.

Blaine Anderson was sitting in his room when he received the news. He was laying on his stomach with his ear buds stuck in his ears, bobbing his head up and down to Katy Perry’s latest hit, “Teenage Dream.” He was planning on submitting the song to the Warblers’ council. They would love this, he thought, grinning. Mid-song, he heard a loud banging on his weak door, interrupting his thought process. He raced over and swung it open to reveal his frail mother, panting with his hand behind her back.

“Hey, mom,” Blaine said, a questioning look in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Blaine’s mother took one of her hands out from behind her bag. In that hand, she clutched an envelope that was about the size of her torso.

“Blaine,” she exhaled as Blaine’s roaming eyes locked on the return address of the package. ‘Alpha Academy’, it read.

“Oh. My. God!” he shouted, hands gripping his face.

Blaine’s mother’s features softened at her son’s jubilant expression. “Blainey,” she sighed as her son ripped the envelope out of her bare hands. “I think you’re going to Alpha Academy.”

~~~~~~~~

Now, Blaine’s Alpha Jet

Blaine screamed like a child at Christmas time when he stepped aboard the private jet that would transport him to Alpha Academy. “I can’t believe this,” he breathed, glancing around. The first thing he noticed was that the sturdy walls were completely covered in the lyrics to all of his favorite songs. He reached out to caress the part of the white wall closest to him. As his fingers ghosted over the black words to “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz, the lyrics started to glow and started flashing different colors. Fascinated, he touched it again and the music started blasting from speakers he could not find. Blaine’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, looking for someone that was playing a cruel joke on him. Unsuccessful, Blaine gave in and stared grooving to the music.

“Are you enjoying this?” a man’s voice called over the loud music, dimming it slightly. Blaine jumped at the sudden sound, recovering quickly with a silly ninja pose.

“Who’s there?” Blaine asked, trying not to let his fear come through in his voice.

“Turn around,” the man’s voice commanded. Blaine, as usual, did what he was told and wheeled around to come face to face with the biggest flat screen he had even seen in his life. On the screen was none other than William Schuester, the creator of Alpha Academy, world famous singer, designer, and humanitarian.
He’s also a trillionaire.

Blaine gasped, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. He uncovered it to try to apologize for his rudeness, but Mr. Schuester stopped him, shaking his head.

“No apologies necessary.”
Every syllable was pronounced with excellent articulacy and perfection.
“You are here because I believe you are talented. I have watched all of your videos and read every single one of the essays you sent in. You are here because you have the potential to be an Alpha Male.”

Blaine’s heart fluttered in his chest as he took these words in. He stopped himself from drifting off into dream land, as he so often does, and returned his attention to the screen.

“I hope you will find your plane very satisfying. It is built to suit your likes and wants. It was created under my very close supervision. Explore as you please. If you need anything, simply press the black button located to the left of this television. Enjoy the rest of your flight and get some rest. You’ll need it.”

The screen turned black. Blaine’s eyes shifted to the button on the left, right where Will had said it would be. He pushed it firmly, admiring the tastefully ornate design of the holder.

“What do you desire?” A voice called from the PA.

“I…uh…a c-coffee, I guess?” Blaine stammered.

“One medium-drip coming straight up!” came the voice again. Blaine gasped, appalled. “Wait, how did you--“

“This jet is built for you, remember? We know what you like.”

Blaine nodded, walking backwards slowly. Suddenly, a beeping noise sounded from his sight. He snapped his head around, bewildered.
“One medium drip,” an automated voice called from the coffee machine sitting on a table in the middle of the floor. A piping hot coffee appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Blaine gripped the green handle and lifted it to his lips. He hesitantly took a sip and was amazed with the results. “This is way better than the coffee at Dalton,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Blaine took this time to take a gander around the jet. He noticed that floor was covered in mahogany wood, his favorite kind. Oh my god, why do I even have a favorite wood, he thought. Apart from the lyrics splattered on the walls, he started to notice some other attributes. For example, there was a tiny Gay Pride flag hanging on one side. Blaine smirked at this. He had written one of his essays on Gay Rights, of course. Located on the other side was a bookshelf filled with a collection of books and magazines. He strolled over and quickly scanned the selections—All seven Harry Potter books, Shakespeare’s The Twelfth Night, Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Hamlet, a few GQ magazines, and one Vogue magazine.

He quickly pulled the Vogue magazine out, skeptical. Turning it over to see the cover, he barked once he saw who it was. I guess I’ve got to get used to this, he thought was he stared at Marion Cotillard’s face. “What don’t you know?” he called out, jokingly. He placed the magazine back on the shelf and walked towards what he supposed was the living area. In the middle of the section was a beautiful rug with purple and green vines intertwining over and over across and being backdrop. An electric blue couch sat across the wall which held the TV he found earlier. Underneath it was a large selection of movies. Crouching down to get a better look, he was that there was a large selection of classic Disney movies. He picked out Aladdin, his favorite and placed it carefully in the DVD player, not wanting to scratch it.

As the oh-so-familiar opening notes of Arabian Nights filled his ears, a familiar feeling struck his bladder. “Damn coffee,” he growled, frantically searching for the restroom. He sighed in defeat and practically punched the black button.

“Where’s the bathroom? Please,” he pleaded, trying to keep the urgency out of his tone.

“One moment,” the soothing voice responded. At this, Blaine crossed his arms angrily and tapped his foot impatiently. “How long does it take to tell someone where something is?” he hissed.

All of a sudden, an empty section of the wall near the back of the plane started to glow. A blue light coming from a hidden laser pointer started to trace the outline of a door. Entranced, Blaine walked towards it, reaching the door as the tracing ceased.

“Stand back,” came the voice over the PA. Blaine quickly jumped backwards as the outlined door swung open, just narrowly missing him. He stepped inside the dark room tentatively and a light flickered on. Blaine saw his reflection in the mirror. His dark green cardigan was clean and pressed, his grey scarf nicely folded around his neck, and his dark hair was glued to his scalp with copious amounts of gel. But when he found his face, he was shocked. Blaine’s cheeks were flushed a lovely pink and his hazel eyes were alight with pure joy. A smile seemed to be plastered on his face, but it wasn’t forced as it usually was.

He hadn’t seen himself this happy in a long time.

His bladder decided to remind him of his mission at that precise moment. So, he did his business and while he was washing his hands, he got lost in his thoughts. Memories were flooding back to him:

Blaine was crying on the floor in his room, newly formed bruises splattered across his face. His own father had tried to ‘smack the gay’ out of him in a drunken rage throwing words like fag, useless, talentless, and disgraceful.
His father, smacking Blaine’s mother before she ordered him to leave and never come back. The last day he ever saw his dad.

Blaine felt tears stinging his tear ducts. “Look at me now, dad,” he said, walking out of the bathroom with his head held high. Blaine had never felt more confident in his life.

Settling down on the couch, he watched his favorite movie splay across the impressive screen. Blaine smirked as Aladdin jumped through the streets of Agrabah.

“Oh, and dad?” he said to no one in particular, “I’m going to prove you wrong.”