Kurt picks at the scraps of fabric in front of him, threadbare cloth of clothes that were on their way to the recycle bin but that he had begged the lady who ran the orphanage to keep. It isn't much, but, Kurt thinks, it will be enough.

Carefully, his little tongue peaking out of the corner of his mouth, Kurt threads the needle, slightly bent but still as sharp as ever, just as his mommy had taught him. Picking up two of the scraps, a dark blue color, he begins sewing what will be the shirt of his new doll, taking care not to prick his finger. His mommy had always said that he had a natural talent with sewing and it shows in how fast the doll comes together. The shirt is quickly joined by a pair of grey pants, and feet, arms, and topped off with a neck, all made from tan fabric that had once been a field trip t-shirt from a school he's never heard of. Kurt sews the pieces together and turns the doll inside out so that the sewn pieces are tucked inside.

A clatter and a shout alerts him to the fact that the other boys are returning to the room and he shoves the doll and fabric under his pillows with the shredded remains of his teddy bear. He says nothing to them when they pour into the room, just scoots up until he's sitting on the pillow, his back to the wall, watching and waiting for an attack that, thankfully, doesn't come.

The next day finds him on his bed once again, everything assembled in front of him. He stuffs some of the leftover fabric into the feet and hands before taking some of the stuffing from his old teddy bear, the only thing he had left from before his mommy and daddy died, the one the older boys had teased him about and torn apart. He pushes in as much of the white cotton as he can into the smaller doll, desperate to keep some part of his parents with him. He knows they didn't want to leave him, that a drunk driver is responsible for taking them away and leaving him with a permanently bad knee. That's why the boys had ripped his bear; he had been unable to run away.

He shakes off the bad memories and picks up the fabric that will make the dolls head. He sews on the two buttons that will make the eyes, one light brown and one green. He knots a bit of thread for a tiny nose and finds a bit of pink thread to stitch into a big smile. Bits of unraveled black yarn is added to piece that will make up the back of the head. With as much care as his tiny hands are capable of, Kurt turns the head inside out, letting a sigh of relief slip past his lips when nothing falls off.

From deep inside his bag, he pulls out a shiny silver coin. His daddy had given it to him the day of the accident and told him it was a lucky coin. He had forgotten it on his bedside table when he was hurried out the door and now he wonders if the accident would have happened if he hadn't.

He presses a kiss to the coin. "I wish you were a real boy," he sighs as he wraps it in some of the cotton and sticks in in the dolls head. More fluff is stuck around it until the head is bugling. He goes slow as he connects it to the thick neck, making sure it's on there firmly before sitting back to admire his work.

It looks good, better than he had hoped, but he still feels like it's missing something. He spies some red fabric and an idea comes to mind. Working quickly because he knows the boys will come in soon, he fashions a bow tie and sews it onto the shirt.

He smiles at the doll. "I'm going to call you Blaine."