Chapter 7

November 27, 2012

Originally Kurt thought that the most difficult part of his mission would be sneaking out of the house unnoticed. It proved to be pretty easy in the end since the sound of his footsteps was overpowered by the snoring coming from his dad's room and the keys of the car were conveniently left in the pocket of his dad's coat. The fact that the garage door opened pretty silently also helped.

It wasn't until the teenager sat in the car and drove out of the garage that he realised that he had absolutely no idea where to go. Glancing at the electronic thermometer Kurt decided not to waste any more time and drove towards the direction of his school. He had seen the boy there once, it was a good starting point after all.

The drive to the bus stop took longer than it would have normally taken for Kurt especially since the roads were empty. He just took his time looking around just in case, though he was pretty sure the boy wouldn't be sleeping by someone's fence. Nevertheless, he had to make sure not to miss him.

Even though Kurt was sure he wouldn't find the boy at the bus stop, he couldn't help but feel disappointed when, in fact, he didn't. In the perfect outcome he had thought about before leaving the house, he was supposed to go to the bus stop, find the boy sleeping there and take him home. Simple as that. Unfortunately, it didn't happen; not that it was realistic in the first place.

It took over an hour of driving, the feeling of hopelessness increasing with each passing minute, for the teen to realise that it was all in vain. For all he knew, the boy might have had some shelter to live in and he would never see him from his car. Defeated, he turned around and drove back home, planning how to silently get back to bed before his dad realised that he had snuck out.

No such luck.

Kurt parked the car in the garage and got into the house on his tiptoes, careful not to make a sound. He was hanging his coat in the closet when the light in the living room switched on. The boy's heart dropped into his stomach. Trying his best not to freak out he went into the room to find his dad sitting in the armchair.

"Hey, dad, I see you are up," Kurt broke the silence since Burt didn't show any signs of starting the conversation.

"Morning, kiddo. Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

"I–" the boy began but his dad didn't let him finish.

"I couldn't either. You see, my son was missing," the man said in a strained voice. Under the calm surface Kurt could see that his dad tried his hardest not to start yelling.

Kurt wriggled his hands, something he often did when he was nervous. "Dad, I'm so sorry–"

"So today I was supposed to take the rented car back to the airport. I got up early, had coffee, went into the garage and... there was nothing. There was no car there," Burt said conversationally. "First thing I thought was that probably someone stole it. My second thought was that maybe my son decided to go on a little road trip but then I thought, 'no, my son would never do that.' So I went upstairs to his room and you know what? He wasn't there..."

"Dad, I'm really, really sorry, I didn't want to wake you up. I thought I would sneak out and come back before you noticed and–" Kurt tried to explain but once again his dad didn't let him speak for too long.

"And then lie to me? Buddy, I thought we had a deal here. What was the deal?"

"To respect each other," Kurt said and his pale face flushed deep pink.

"Exactly! And lying is not how you show respect," Burt said and took a deep calming breath. "Sit down."

Kurt did as asked, knowing better than to object his dad now that he was already deep in trouble.

"I think I've been too indulgent as a parent. However, out of the respect I have left for you, I will let you explain before I ground you. So, go ahead, I'm listening. Where were you?"

Finally having a chance to explain himself, Kurt decided that it was for the best to go with the truth. "Um, okay, there is this guy–"

"Do I really want to hear the rest?"

"It's not like that, dad... He's a slave," Kurt said and looked up at his dad, who looked at him confused.

"A slave?"

"And he is homeless..." Kurt added what he thought was the most important piece of the story.

"Why do you think he is homeless?"

"He looks homeless?" Kurt offered but Burt was obviously not convinced yet. "He is dirty, unshaven, his hair is way too long, his clothes don't fit and he has no shoes. He also looked starved. Of course he's living on the streets. How else could he look like that?"

Burt sighed and Kurt was sure he wouldn't like what his dad was about to say. "Kurt, some people tend to neglect their slaves more than others. Sometimes it's their way to punish them. Just because a slave looks a bit... untidy, doesn't mean that he is homeless. Maybe he broke something so his owners sent him out for something without shoes. Things like that are common, no matter how horrible."

Kurt frowned. He had never thought about that. Whenever he thought about slavery and imagined what it would be like to have a slave of his own, the person his imagination created was always tidy, clean and taken care of. Of course he had seen some photos of really badly looking slaves but he always thought they were in hard labour and it was the reason behind their appearance.

"Back to the question," his dad spoke again, "what were you doing out tonight?"

The teenager looked at his dad guiltily. "I couldn't stop thinking of him out there in the cold night so I went looking for him."

"Did you find him?"

"No..."

"What did you plan to do if you found him?"

He wasn't really sure. His plan went as far as the arrival to the house. Then what? He had no idea, the only sure thing was knowing that the boy had to be somewhere safe and warm and his house was both of those things.

"I... I wanted to bring him here," he finally said, not elaborating on the rest.

"Kurt–"

"Dad, please, it's almost winter and he barely has any clothes and it's snowing and–"

"Stop right here," Burt stopped him once again and Kurt shut up instantly. "First of all, he most likely belongs to some family so there is no way you could take him in. It's illegal to have a slave without the ownership documents and it would be like stealing. Secondly, you know the rules - Hummels will never own another human being."

"I know but–"

"No 'buts', Kurt, it's final," Burt cut him off and Kurt felt the anger building up inside. He just wanted to explain himself.

"Okay I'm sorry for wanting to help someone," he said and it came out a bit harsher than he had planned.

Burt shrugged. "You could still help him."

"How?"

"I don't know, next time you see him you could buy him some tea or something. And biscotti, everyone likes biscotti and you did say he looked starving," the man said. "Just know that you should be careful. If he has a family and they see you giving something to their slave, the boy may be in trouble."

Kurt frowned in confusion, not sure if he really heard his dad right. "Why the boy? They should be angry with me..."

"It's not how it works, buddy... Listen, I'm not a psychologist but the way I see it, slaves for their owners are like punching bags for normal people, either literally or metaphorically speaking. It's the way for them to get rid of all negative emotions they have. There are a lot of cruel people out there and for them having a slave means not taking their frustration on their families or doing something illegal like punching someone, who could go to police and file a report."

"But it's unfair," Kurt said in a small voice, having difficulties to comprehend that there was some sort of a positivity in slavery. "Do you agree with this?"

"Of course I don't! Look at me, I never had a slave and I don't feel the need to hurt you or anyone else. It's just a poor excuse for sick, cruel people, who can't control themselves."

Kurt nodded, not sure what else to say. He never thought he would be this affected by the injustice that he now had to see for himself every day. He wished they never moved back to the States, it would have been much easier to ignore the issue and just go on with his life.

"Now go get that sleep that you have left and I'll go to the airport. I'm already late as it is," his dad said and they both stood up.

"Goodnight, dad," Kurt said on his way upstairs.

"Night, Kurt," the man said, putting on his coat.

"Um, dad? For how long am I grounded?" Kurt asked from the middle of the stairs.

Burt thought for a moment before speaking. "I'll let you off the hook this time but sneak out at night again and there will be consequences. Bad consequences."

Kurt smiled relieved. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah, yeah, go to sleep," the man grunted and Kurt went to his room.

Back in his room, when the teenager was in his bed, he began to daydream about all different ways he could help the poor boy. His dad's idea was brilliant but it wasn't enough. Sure, every little helped but he had to do more, much more. He made a list of items he would carry all the time in his new car once he got it just in case he met the boy and at the point 'gloves' he fell asleep.