Parents never understood the children’s fascination with the house on the corner. Every day after school, the children that lived in the neighborhood would go down to the house, open the old iron gate, and sit or stand in a circle on the brown lawn. Sometimes they would play games like Duck Duck Goose or Ring Around the Rosy, other times they would sing old nursery rhymes, ones they learned from their parents before bedtime. But none of them would go near the house itself. As long as that unspoken rule stayed in place, the parents were mostly okay with them playing there. At least it kept them out of the street. Besides, no one had lived there for almost 70 years.

There was a day in the middle of June when a moving van could be found outside the house on the corner a few days after the interior designer finished. A family of five piled out of the SUV parked: a mother, a father, a set of twins – a boy and girl, ready to begin high school at the end of the summer – and the youngest, a 7 year old boy. The mother and the twins headed toward the van to meet the movers while the father grabbed an old blanket, took the boy by the shoulders, and led him to the porch. The boy hugged his ratty stuffed duck closer to his chest while his father spread the blanket out. He didn’t want his son to get a splinter from the old boards or get his pants dirty.

“Stay here and don’t get in the way, alright? I’ll have Finn carry your things to your room and Quinn will help you put them away later.” He kissed his son’s messy brown hair and headed to the van to help unload. The boy sat, legs crossed under him with his duck resting in the empty space. Puck the duck faced him and the boy ran his finger from the top of his head down to the end of his bill, his one good eye staring happily at the boy. He smiled.

Finn turned to his twin as they walked toward the house. “I wish Kurt would let Mom fix that thing. It looks creepy without the left eye.”

Quinn looked at her little brother fondly though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You know he never lets that duck out of his sight. Whenever Mom washes him, he sits in front of the machine until it’s done.”

The boy, Kurt, frowned at his siblings. He has a name, he thought. Stop calling him ‘that duck’. It’s rude and he doesn’t like it. He looked back at Puck once the twins disappeared inside the house. I’m sorry. They just don’t know better.

Puck stared back through his eye. I understand.

Kurt watched as his family continued to carry their lives into the new house. But sometimes he would look at the old twisted tree in the front yard and wonder why the birds wouldn’t land. He looked at the brown lawn and wondered why there was a circle in the grass. And later he looked at the fence to his right and wondered why a group of children were staring at him. Not his family. Him. He cocked his head to the left and frowned. The children scattered and ran for their houses, except one girl who looked to be about 10. She looked at his family and looked back to Kurt before beckoning him to come to her. He waited until his family climbed in the moving truck to get the boxes at the back before standing. He brushed off his pants and hugged Puck to his chest before slowly making his way over to the girl. He stopped about two feet from the fence, keeping his distance. He didn’t like strangers.

The girl studied him before glancing up at the top floor window. She nodded once before pressing her body against the fence to lean closer. “He likes to play. Play with him. He’s very nice. He will keep you safe.” Without another word, she took off down the street and didn’t look back.

As promised, Finn brought Kurt’s things up to his room and Quinn sat with him as he put his belongings away. She folded his clothes and he put them in his dresser, and they made the bed before she left to go pick up the pizzas for dinner so their parents could relax. Kurt didn’t follow her.

Kurt sat on his new bed, Puck seated in his lap once more. He rubbed the top of his duck’s head. Puck continued to look up at him. Listen to the walls.
The boy stared at him, confused. The walls, he wondered. What’s wrong with the walls? His mom called from downstairs. It was time to eat. Kurt tucked Puck the duck under his arm and headed out the door.

Wait. Please don’t leave me.

After dinner, Kurt and Puck didn’t stay downstairs. Once they were back in the boy’s bedroom, he went to find his favorite coloring book and crayons. The boy and his duck were wonderful artists, and he knew his mom and sister loved the pictures he made for her. He curled up on the soft new carpet and spread his tools out before setting Puck down across from him. The boy opened his book to the next not colored page and looked to his duck for his opinion. Brown puppy.

Kurt smiled. I like the way you think, Puck.

Picking up his brown crayon, he started with the puppy’s ears, trying his best to stay in the lines. From the ears he moved to the face, to the body, to the first leg.

Stop!

The boy looked at his duck. Puck?

The walls. I told you. Listen. Puck was very sure about the walls.

The boy was silent. Kurt looked at his walls. Puck looked at Kurt.

Don’t color the paws. Leave them white.

Kurt dropped his crayon in surprise. The walls, he thought. There’s something in my walls.

Hey! I’m not a ‘something’. That’s not very nice to call someone.

Kurt grabbed Puck and tore out of the room. They spent the night on the floor of Finn’s room.

Puck peered around the doorframe the next morning. There’s nothing there. We’re clear. Kurt thanked his duck and tucked him under his arm and crept into the room. His crayons and book were still on the floor. His bed hadn’t been touched. His belongings were still in their proper place. Walking over to his bed, he stopped beside his coloring book. Green grass, yellow sun, blue sky, and a brown puppy with white paws stared back at him. The boy almost let his duck fall to the floor.

I’m. Sorry. Please. Talk. To. Me. Kurt read the words slowly. He still couldn’t read very well. Kurt’s black crayon rested beside the open book, the tip pointing at the beautifully written words like an arrow.

Kurt looked at the large window. Why are you sorry? he asked. Nothing. Hello? Are you there?

Yes.

Kurt froze, his eyes darting to the door.

Please don’t run!

The boy waited. The wall didn’t sound mean. It sounded nice. It actually sounded like a boy about his age, maybe a little older. What do you want, wall? he wondered.

I’m not a wall!

The boy jumped and headed for the door, his nose pressed against his duck’s head and his eyes barely seeing where he was running. He hit the stairs and almost stopped, but decided against it. He ran out into the back yard and sat with his mother while she planted flowers. Kurt spent another night on the floor of Finn’s room. The family was worried, but they didn’t mention it. Kurt wouldn’t explain anyway. He never did.

The next morning Kurt climbed into the car with his mother and sister. They were going shopping, using it as an excuse to explore the town. Kurt hated shopping. Well, it wasn’t the shopping that he hated; it was the crowds that came with it. Too many strangers. His father and brother were watching a baseball game, but Kurt didn’t want to stay in the house, no matter how much he liked baseball.

Later that night, Kurt crept up the stairs and looked into his room. Again, nothing had changed except for the top dresser drawer that hadn’t been pushed in all the way after his mom had grabbed clothes for him that morning. He took a deep breath and hugged Puck closer. We can do this, he told Puck. We’re brave, remember? Puck agreed.
He walked into the room, skirting around his still open coloring book, and sat down cross-legged on the bed.

Waiting.

I’m sorry.

The boy looked up. You’re here, then, he said.

Yes. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean to. I’ve just been really lonely for a long time. Waiting is boring when no one will play with you. Watching everyone else play isn’t much fun.

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed. Waiting? Waiting for what? he wondered.

…For you.

“Kurt, sweetheart?” He jumped as his mom’s voice spoke from the doorway. She looked at him curiously. “It’s time for bed. Are you sleeping in Finn’s room again?”

Kurt glanced at his mom before looking back at the opposite wall. Slowly, he shook his head. His mother smiled. “Okay. I’ll go get your pajamas from your brother’s room while you go brush your teeth.” He nodded and left.

When he climbed into bed, he pulled his duck closer and tucked the blanket around his feet. He stared at the ceiling, the light from the streetlamp outside providing just enough light to see but not enough to be annoying. I hope I’m safe in here, he thought.

I won’t hurt you. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.

The next day Kurt and Puck helped Mom out in the garden again. Well, Kurt helped. Puck watched. He liked helping his mom with the garden. After dinner, the boy could be found in his room once more. Hello?

Hello. I’m here.

Kurt nodded. That didn’t exactly comfort him. So…

Yes?

Who are you? What are you? The boy was full of questions.

For the first time, the wall – it – laughed.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I am. But who I am is something I can share. I’m Blaine.

Oh. The boy liked that name. It was a nice name, not one that would belong to someone mean. And if it had a name, did that mean it was a person? Before he could ask or even think about it further, his mother came up the stairs and said it was time to get ready for bed.

The pattern continued for many weeks. The boy would spend his day outside with Puck and his night talking with Blaine. Each night the boy and his new friend would talk, just getting to know the other. If he had to live with this thing in his room, he might as well make friends with it. Puck was happy. He liked Blaine. And if Puck liked him, so would Kurt. His duck was an excellent judge of character.

But when school started, things changed. After school Blaine often found the boy curled up on his bed, his duck wrapped in his arms, and tear tracks on his cheeks. Blaine would always ask what was wrong, but it took several days for the boy to tell. Nobody wants to be friends with a boy who won’t speak.

I’m your friend.

The boy sniffled. But it doesn’t matter. You aren’t there at school. He sniffled again. I wish you were real, he thought.

Blaine looked at him.

But I am real.

The boy didn’t hear from him for a week. It was a very long, very lonely week.

The following Friday found Kurt bursting through the front door, running past his mother and heading for the stairs. Another horrible day at school. An even more horrible week. He wanted Puck. Puck was always there. He wanted Blaine too, but Blaine didn’t want to be friends with him anymore. He ran into his room and closed the door. Wiping his eyes, he looked up and almost yelled. Out loud.

On his bed sat a strange boy, a very strange boy with golden skin and very curly black hair. In his lap sat his duck. The boy wanted to scream. Scream for his mom. Scream at the strange boy for playing with his best friend. But something was off. He wanted to be afraid. He should have been absolutely terrified, but something about the strange boy wouldn’t let him.

“I always thought he was a very nice duck. Your Puck. We’ve been talking all afternoon.” The strange boy looked up, turning his bright hazel gold eyes on the boy. “He told me about your week. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Blaine? The boy thought that wasn’t possible. Blaine wasn't a real person. But the strange golden boy looked at him and nodded.

Then where were you? He demanded an answer.

Blaine looked at him, sadness clear in his eyes. “I left.”

The boy sniffled loudly. Why? he wondered.

“So I could be here.” The strange golden boy smiled for the first time. “I had to get permission to look like this. How I normally look. We’re not supposed to show ourselves unless it’s really important.”

Kurt wiped his eyes. He was confused. Permission? Permission from who?

“From my Father. He knew how much I wanted someone to play with. The other kids used to sing songs for me and let me watch them play in the yard. I was never allowed to join in. But then you showed up. And my Father knew how much I wanted to meet you. To have someone to play with. How much I wanted a best friend.” Blaine paused. “How much you wanted a best friend.”

Kurt was very confused. But how could your dad know that? That a best friend – a real best friend – was what I wanted more than anything.

Blaine smiled. “My Father knows everything.”

The boy shook his head. None of this made sense. Did his mom know Blaine was here?

Blaine shook his head. “No. She’s walked by several times, though. She’s very nice.” Blaine laughed at the boy’s shocked face. “Don’t worry. She can’t see me. Only you can.”

Kurt didn’t understand.

Blaine laughed. “I know you don’t understand. I bet you don’t understand why I can hear your thoughts either.” That hadn’t even crossed the boy’s mind, but it just added to his confusion. “It’s okay. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

Kurt looked at him and frowned. You’re leaving? Are you coming back? he wondered.

Blaine nodded. “I’ll be back real soon. My Father just wants to talk to me for a minute. To make sure I really know the rules for interacting with humans. He thinks I might have missed some of them when he was explaining them. Which is probably true. I was really excited when he said yes. But don’t worry. It won’t take long.” Blaine stood up, resting Puck against the pillow. He smiled at Kurt, excitement lighting up his already bright face. “Here, maybe this will help me explain things when I get back. Watch this.”

Blaine closed his eyes, his face screwed up in concentration. Kurt watched as his figure began to glow. Slowly, a white tip pushed through the skin of his back. It grew wider and wider until it hooked and begin to curve down and get smaller until the end was firmly attached to his back, fused to his skin. Wings. Great white wings. Blaine’s eyes opened, the gold almost glowing. He smiled as his wings began to flap gently, his entire figure beginning to fade away.

“See you soon, best friend,” Blaine said with a wave before he disappeared entirely.

Kurt stared at the spot where Blaine had disappeared until he felt feet carry him to his bed He flopped down, pulling Puck into his arms. Kurt’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything. He and his family move to a new house. His wall talks. He makes friends with his “wall.” His friend leaves for a week when he really needs him, but comes back as a real person. A person who glows. Who has wings that come out of his back. And then he disappears. And can only be seen by Kurt. I’ve got a weird best friend, he thought. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

I’ve got a best friend.

Outside the door, Kurt’s mother clapped a hand over her smile and continued on her way as she heard her youngest son’s very faint, very soft, yet joyous laugh.