Kurt groaned. He shouldn't be here. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve five months in the Dalton Academy for the criminally disposed. This place was for the loonies who were fresh out of Juvie. Not him, sweet, innocent Kurt Hummel.
Well, maybe not quite as sweet and innocent as he looked, but still, nice and kind. Mostly. It wasn't his fault he had beaten David Karofsky into a coma. He had been provoked! Karofsky had… Had kissed him. And Kurt had just been so angry, so full of hate for this boy that his fists had started flying before he knew what was going on. He had beaten the guy to a pulp, crying silently the whole time.
Mr. Schuester had found him, red eyed and weak in the corridor outside the locker room. He had comforted him, hugged him, told him everything was going to be OK. They found Karofsky half an hour later. No one had suspected Kurt, of course. The guy was hardly popular. There were plenty of people who could have turned on him. But when the guy came around, a full fortnight later, and had been asked who did it, he had told them Kurt's name without hesitation. The police turned up on the doorstep of the Hummel-Hudson family home, the night after his father's wedding – to Finn's mom, Carole – and arrested Kurt.
The resulting court case and trial had, in all honesty, bored Kurt. If they were going to send him to Juvie, why didn't they just do it already? His life was over as it is. He was going to get beaten ten times worse than he had ever been beaten before at the place they were sending him, especially from the way Puck described it. And even once he escaped that hellhole of a place; he would have a criminal record and, subsequently, would never be able to achieve his dreams.
But, somehow, he had gotten lucky. The jury decided, after a whole load of evidence from the whole of the New Directions, including Mr. Schue, that Kurt had been provoked and it was only his first offence, so they were not going to send him to a Juvenile Delinquent centre. They couldn't, however, let Kurt get away with nothing. The Karofsky family were not going to let this go that easily. They gave Kurt a hefty fine to compensate for Karofsky and his family and they decided that Kurt should be sent to Dalton, a special rehabilitation unit for boys. They also said, thankfully, that if Kurt came out of Dalton with a clean slate, a changed boy, then he would not be given a criminal record, and could continue life as if none of this ever happened. Kurt hoped and prayed that he could manage that.
And now here he was. His first day at this dump, wearing, not his best first day outfit, but a white dress shirt, red and blue tie, grey dress trousers and a revolting blue blazer with red piping. He was wearing a pair of shiny dress shoes. He had, however, done his hair in a different style than usual. Messier, more spiked-up, he figured he looked at least a little more like he would fit in here than usual. He took a deep breath, and walked through the door. Immediately, he was greeted by a scent that just screamed "teenage boy". Sweat, mixed with axe, mixed with a scent Kurt was pretty sure was pure testosterone. He saw several teenage boys, all with their uniforms bordering on tramp-ish messy. Crumpled shirts, loose ties, blazers that were ripped, dirtied, or in a few cases, dotted with what looked like burn marks. Trousers with ripped knees and ragged hems.
Kurt quickly ducked into a doorway and undid his top button, loosening his tie and un-tucking his shirt. He rolled up the sleeves of his blazer and shirt, and stepped back into the hallway. He took a deep breath, and tried his best to look tough as he searched in vain for the head's office.
"Hey New Kid!" A voice called. Kurt's gaze flicked up from where it had been focused on his map of the compound and found the speaker. A short, dark haired boy with the most amazing hazel eyes was leaning against the wall ahead of Kurt. He was totally gorgeous.
Yeah, and he looks like he'd beat you up as soon as look at you.. A voice in the back of Kurt's head whispered. It was true. The boy's shirt was rumpled, and his grey trousers hung low, exposing the waistband of his black boxers. His tie was hung around his neck, not even knotted, the end tattered and frayed. His blazer was nowhere to be found. The remains of a bruise shadowed his right cheek. When Kurt didn't reply, the boy continued to speak.
"Head's Office is that way." He jerked his thumb down a hallway to his right. Kurt blinked disbelievingly at the boy. Was he lying? Deliberately sending Kurt the wrong way? He sighed. His only option was to follow the boy's directions. It wasn't like he had any better ideas.
"Th-thanks, I guess." Kurt managed to stammer out. Much to his dismay, the boy just winked at him and walked off. Kurt walked down the hallway he had pointed out, and within minutes, arrived at the head's office. The boy had actually helped him… That was weird.
God Kurt, stop being so judgemental! Just because he's in a rehabilitation centre, doesn't mean he can't be nice once in a while! His conscience piped up again.
"You've changed your tune.." He muttered. Great. First the academy, now this. He was talking to himself. That was just what he needed. Staying nice and normal, so he could still have friends when he got the hell out of this place. He sighed, and strode into the office.
The receptionist looked up, raking him with her eyes. She gave a bitchy little sneer.
"Kurt Hummel?" She said, her voice nasal and incredibly annoying.
"Yes." Kurt all but snapped. She pressed a buzzer on her desk and spoke into a little microphone.
"There's a Kurt Hummel here to see you. New Student. Shall I send him in?"
"Yes, yes, Patricia, send him in. Stop being so darn formal the whole time. This is a school, not an office." A voice blared out of the speaker. Kurt grinned smugly, and the receptionist, Patricia, he assumed, turned a violent shade of red. Kurt rolled his eyes and went through the door into the head's office.
The head himself was an aging man, with a head of dark brown hair and steely grey eyes behind his square glasses. He was tall, but he looked kind of stocky and built to Kurt. Kurt tentatively took a seat in front of his desk.
"So Kurt. I am Principal Evans. This is your first time at a place like this, I assume, from your positively spotless record?" He began, his voice deep and booming.
"Yes, sir." Kurt said quietly. Much to his surprise, the man burst out laughing.
"Oh, that is a good one. Sir! Hah. I've been called many things in my time here. Wanker, Douche bag, Old git… But Sir… That certainly is a new one." He said once he had recovered himself. "What are you doing here? Clearly you have more manners and class than most of the boys here put together."
"I beat up a guy who was bullying me." Kurt said, his confidence growing a little, so he was able to look the man in the eyes when he said it.
"And why was he bullying you?" The man asked, his tone actually sounding somewhat concerned. Suddenly, there was a crackle from the speakers. Principal Evans heaved an exasperated sigh, and pressed the button. "Patricia. How many times. Stop eavesdropping on my conversations with the students. This room is soundproof for a reason!" A muffled "Sorry…" could be heard from the speakers. Kurt fought back another smile. Patricia reminded him of one Rachel Berry from back at McKinley. Ruthless and annoying, but with bitchy added on top. At least Rachel was nice. Most of the time.
"Now, where were we?" Principal Evans asked, leaning back on his chair. "A boy was bullying you. Why exactly?"
"Because I'm gay." Kurt said hesitantly. The Principal didn't even bat an eyelid. He just shook his head.
"Oh dear. There is so much ignorance in the world today. Now anyway, Kurt, here is your timetable, and the key to your room. I assume your clothes and things are being delivered later?" He continued without a pause.
"Yes. They'll arrive about lunchtime." Kurt almost sighed. This guy was actually pretty nice. Or maybe he had just taken a liking to Kurt, since he was the first boy not to mouth off at him…
"I'll see that they are taken up to your room. Now, I'd like to say that things here will be easy for you. But they probably won't be. Just come to me if you have any trouble. I don't really feel like I need to explain this to you, Kurt, you seem like an intelligent boy, but it is customary for me to explain our rules. You must not smoke cigarettes or any other form of drug while on the premises, you must not drink alcohol while on the premises. You must not inject, consume or inhale any other kind of drug on the premises. You must not have sexual relations of any kind while you are on the premises-"
Kurt's eyebrows shot up. The Principal smiled wryly.
"Kurt, you aren't the only gay guy here. There are plenty. And you would be surprised what some straight boys would do after a few months without any girls... Moving along.. You must not skip class; you must attend at least one therapy session a week. You must be in your room by the ten thirty curfew. There are room checks, and if you are found out of your room after curfew, there will be consequences. You are not to leave school grounds on a weekday unless you have explicit permission from me. You are allowed out at weekends, but you must be accompanied by at least one Warden if there are more than three of you, or if one or more of the persons in your group is currently under mental well-being assessment. Hmm.. That is about it. You have missed pretty much your whole first class, so I would advise you to go straight to second hour. Go straight down the hall, take the second right, then the first left, and then go straight on until you reach classroom 16A. English class. You got that?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure." Kurt said, which was a total lie. As well as being overwhelmed by the sheer number of rules this place had, the directions the principal had given him had gone straight in one ear and out of the other.
"Good. Then you are free to go. I trust I will have no trouble from you Kurt. Maybe you could even turn some of our boys around! I hear you were in show choir at your old school?" Kurt nodded, no longer trusting his voice. "Well, we have our own show choir. The Dalton Warblers. You should join. Some of our boys are really quite talented, and they just need a good influence to get them to work a little harder. Winning the competition would mean everything to them."
"But.. But sectionals are in two weeks, s- I mean, Principal Evans." Kurt couldn't help but say.
"I'm sure they'll accept you. They are in desperate need of new voices, new blood, so to speak." Kurt gulped at the expression. The principal smiled, and just then, a loud bell went off. "Ah. The changeover bell. Hurry to your class!" He urged. Kurt left the office, past a very bored looking Patricia who appeared to be doing her nails under the desk, and into the corridor. There, waiting for him, right outside the door was the same short, curly haired boy from before. His tie was knotted now, and a tatty blazer was hung over one of his shoulders. He was smiling at Kurt in a way that made him feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Hey New Kid. Walk with me." He grabbed the timetable, from Kurt's hands. "Oh cool. You're in my English class. Come with me." He walked off, not even looking over his shoulder to see if Kurt was following. Too late, Kurt realized he didn't have his map either. It had been in the same hand as the timetable…
Oh god… Kurt thought, as he was forced to follow. He could tell already that the attention of this boy was not exactly what one would call good. What a perfect way to start my first day.. His conscience muttered bitterly, and Kurt couldn't help but agree.