Just Around The Corner

12

There was no denying that Pleasantville had changed. Was still changing. As he walked down the street, Kurt could see splatters of color everywhere; traffic lights in red and green, a bright blue Corvette parked outside the Soda Shop, pink and red and yellow roses peeking from behind white picket fences.

But it wasn't just the colors. There was something in the air. Three men were getting their shoes shined across the street, talking animatedly, their faces clouded with concern. As soon as they spotted Kurt, they gave him identical dirty glares. A few blocks down, a large group of people were gathered by a furniture store. When Kurt reached them, he saw what had them so up in arms: a double bed. Everyone was whispering amongst themselves; some people sounded excited, others scandalized, yet others frightened.

Yes, Pleasantville was changing. And not everyone considered that a good thing.

"Kurt!"

Kurt looked from the double bed in the window to see Blaine come running towards him. He walked to meet him, getting away from the crowd despairing over the double beds.

"Blaine," Kurt greeted, smiling softly. He accepted Blaine's kiss hello, although at the back of his mind, he worried that someone might say something, seeing two boys exchange displays of affection. Fortunately, no one said or did anything, although Kurt could hear a few people gasp.

Whatever. Some stranger's disapproval didn't matter, as long as they kept it to themselves.

"It's probably best you don't call me Kurt in public," Kurt said apologetically, taking Blaine's offered hand.

Blaine's eyes widened. "Oh, Gosh. I didn't even think, I'm so sorry, Kurt!" He slapped a hand over his mouth. "Bud, I mean, Bud!"

Kurt bit back his laughter. He didn't want to come off like he was laughing at Blaine. "It's fine, Blaine, really. Just try to keep it in mind."

"I will," Blaine said earnestly. "Say, where is Rachel, anyway?"

"She's at the library. Said she wanted to be completely prepared for the next seminar."

"Good," Blaine said. "I mean, not that she's not here, but," he hesitated, smiling shyly, "well, I kind of like it when I have you all to myself."

Kurt ducked his head down, feeling his cheeks burn. He would never get used to having Blaine Anderson as his boyfriend. He kept saying the sweetest things, and you just knew that he meant them.

His stomach turned unpleasantly as Kurt realized that he might not have the time to get used to Blaine. Who knew for how much longer they'd be stuck in Pleasantville? It could be a lifetime, but it could just as well be a week. The thought did not make Kurt as relieved as it once had. He didn't want to leave Blaine behind.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, concerned, but before Kurt could give his answer, someone bumped into him.

It was a bulky boy wearing, of course, a letterman jacket, and he glared at Kurt. "Watch it."

"Me?" Kurt huffed. "You're the one who bumped into me."

Two other boys in letterman jackets came to their friend's side, both of them glowering at Kurt as well. They weren't bulky like their friend, but they were tall.

"Yeah?" The bulky guy scoffed. "Well, maybe if you two fruits were watching where you're going instead of makin' eyes at each other, I wouldn't have bumped into you."

"Fruits?" Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Really, is that the best you can do?"

"Come on, Johnny," one of the other guys said. "Don't bother wit' those freams, we gotta get goin'."

Kurt looked after them as they left, feeling slightly uneasy but mostly relieved. If that was the worst he had coming from the jocks, then he really didn't need to worry.

"Freams," he repeated incredulously. "What does that even mean?"

There was no answer from Blaine. It was only then that Kurt realized that Blaine was squeezing his hand, almost painfully tight. Kurt turned to look at him; Blaine was pale and his expression stricken. As if he'd never been called anything more terrible than fruit in his life...

Which he hadn't, of course. Blaine had no experience with being hated, with being mocked.

"It's okay," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand back. "It doesn't matter what they think, all right? We know that there's nothing wrong with us."

Blaine drew a shaky breath and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

But he still looked stricken, almost on the verge of tears. Kurt could think of a million things to say - all things that had been said to him at one time or another, by authority figures and friends and family. But none of it would bring any real comfort, he knew. At least no more than Kurt could offer by holding onto Blaine's hand, letting him know that he wasn't alone.

"What is that sound?" Blaine said suddenly.

Now that he'd said it, Kurt could hear it too. There was shouting in the distance, coming from the direction of the town square.

"I don't know," he said.

Blaine tugged at his hand. "We should go look."

Kurt was unsure. What if it was something bad? A riot, maybe? But he couldn't picture the people of Pleasantville rioting, even with all the changes that had been happening lately.

"Okay," he eventually agreed.

He had to admit, he was kind of curious.

---

Rachel stared at the shelves in horror. No matter how long she looked, she couldn't believe it.

The books were gone. Every last one of them. The ones she'd been looking for, on human reproduction and sexuality, but also the art books, the novels, the biographies, the text books, the note books, all of them.

Gone.

She stormed to the check out counter, slamming her hand on it so the Librarian straightened from her slumped position, clearly startled.

"Where are they?" Rachel said.

"I- I don't," stammered the Librarian.

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "The books. They're gone, and I know you know where they are."

"Those books were defective," the Librarian said, wetting her lips nervously. "They were never meant to have words in them. You know how dangerous books with words are. They get people thinking. I read one, you know, and it mentioned-" she lowered her voice, sounding scandalized, "negroes. I said to myself, why would books in the Pleasantville Public Library have to be about negroes? We don't have any of those types living around here, thank the Lord, so I just don't understand why would need books about them."

Rachel felt sick to her stomach at the Librarian's speech, but the other woman kept on talking:

"The Mayor gave very clear instructions. We were not to leave any behind, not even the ones that didn't have words in them. They might change, you see. We just couldn't take the risk."

"Where are they?" Rachel asked again.

"The town square," the Librarian finally answered. "They're being burned, dear. It's all for the best, really."

But Rachel didn't get to hear just how it was all for the best, because she was already running out the doors. Maybe they hadn't started the fire yet. Maybe, if she hurried, if she only got there in time, she could put a stop to it all.

But as the town square came into view, she saw that it was already too late. Right in the middle of the square, surrounded by people, was a huge bonfire. It burned brightly, grey flames licking the colorful book covers, turning them to ash.

"No," Rachel shouted, unbidden.

Some people turned to look at her, but most didn't, keeping their eyes on the fire. There were people she knew, Lisa Anne and Tommy and Betty Jean, all of them fighting to get to the books, to save a few. But the overwhelming majority was content in watching them burn, and a few other teenagers kept Rachel's friends at bay.

Rachel saw Blaine and Kurt approach from the other side of the square, their eyes wide and expressions terrified. She caught Kurt's attention and he shook his head minutely, indicating that she should stay back.

What was there to do, anyway? It was too late to put out the fire.

Rachel burst into tears.

---

They stayed for the duration. Until the fires had died and only a few embers remained, until most everyone had left. Rachel rooted through the ashes, not caring about the lingering heat, looking for anything she could salvage, but there was nothing. It was all gone.

Rachel rubbed at her eyes, which were red and swollen. "How could they do this? They- they took everything. Even the blank ones."

Kurt's heart ached and he wanted to reach out and hug her, but Blaine beat him to it. His eyes were teary as well, and he and Rachel clung to each other like lost children. They stood there in each other's embrace for a while, rocking slightly on the spot. Looking at them, Kurt wanted to cry as well, but he knew that one of them had to keep it together.

"Rachel," he said, "Blaine. Let's go home."

They pulled apart and nodded silently. Rachel looked like she might start crying again, but her eyes stayed dry.

The walk back to the Parker house was painfully tense. No one said a word, but Kurt knew they were all thinking the same thing: what now?

The lights were on in the living room. It was around dinner time, but no greasy food smell greeted them when they walked in.

Betty and George sat on the living room couch, two feet apart. She was still in color, her dress a lovely green shade, and he still black and white, but they both looked ashen.

Betty rushed from the couch once she saw them come in and ran forward to give Kurt and Rachel a hug each. "Thank Goodness you children are all right." She looked them over carefully, visibly taken aback by Rachel's red eyes and dirty dress. "We were worried sick. Oh, but are you all right?"

"We're fine," Kurt answered for the both of them. "What's going on, why were you so worried?"

Betty and George exchanged glances.

"We've been hearing some things said about you," Betty said, sitting back down on the couch. "How you kids are a disruptive influence on the town. Now, I don't buy into any of that nonsense. Perhaps you have introduced some new ideas to Pleasantville, but it is each person's decision what they do with those new ideas."

George made a distressed sound and ran a hand through his hair. He obviously did not agree with his wife.

"But they've been telling us that we shouldn't let you kids out of the house," Betty continued. "Some people have even suggested that we send you to a correctional facility. But I know you, and I know there's nothing about you that needs correcting."

She glanced between Kurt and Rachel, her brown eyes fierce and loving. Beside her, George was fidgeting nervously.

"And what about you?" Kurt asked, addressing George.

George looked startled. "I - I don't understand."

"Do you think that we're a disruptive influence? Or that we need correcting?"

"Gosh, I don't," he wrung his hands, "you know, Bob talked to me the other day? Told me that I needed to get my family under control. What with Betty and Mary Sue turning colors," he gestured at the two women, who looked none too pleased, "it hasn't been easy. I know what people say about me, that I'm a bad husband and a bad father. My daughter is running around, making noise, behaving nothing like a proper young lady should."

He heaved a shuddering breath, and now there were tears running silently down his cheeks. "But darn it, she is still my daughter. Maybe I don't agree with everything she says but I can't stop her from saying it. And I love her just the same." He looked up at his two children, eyes shining. "And that goes for Bud, too. I - I can't say I much care for you and Blaine going steady, but I'm not gonna tell you that you can't. That would only make you unhappy, and I love you too much for that."

And suddenly, George was no longer black and white. He was looking at Kurt and Rachel with watery, blue eyes, his brown hair was sticking up where his fingers had run through it. Before Kurt could think better of it, he leapt forward and pulled George into a hug. George hugged back, a little hesitantly at first, but he was soon holding onto Kurt for dear life.

Kurt closed his eyes and smiled. Maybe things would turn out okay.