Just Around The Corner

14

None of them knew what to expect when they showed up for school that day. Kurt was half-way certain they'd all be rounded up as soon as they entered and shipped off to some de-colorization camp or something.

But nothing of the sort happened. The hallways were filled with students as always, both colored and monochrome. As Kurt looked around, he noticed that they tended to group themselves together. Little crowds of colored students huddled together by the lockers and spoke in hushed tones, while the black-and-white strolled around, eyeing their colorful peers disdainfully.

Kurt felt his stomach swoop uncomfortably and he crossed his arms to remove the temptation to reach out and take Blaine's hand.

"What now?" Rachel whispered.

Kurt sighed. "Now we go to class."

Rachel frowned and Kurt didn't blame her for looking unhappy. He didn't much like having to pretend like nothing had changed, but with the new Pleasantville Code of Conduct hanging on every wall in sight, he knew they had to be careful.

"How much longer are we supposed to keep this up?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," Kurt said. "If you've got any ideas, feel free to speak up."

Rachel remained silent. The bell rang and Kurt and Blaine headed for the gym, while Rachel went in the opposite direction to the home ec classroom.

Once they reached the changing room, the Coach stepped in their way.

"I'm afraid I can't let you in here," he said, expression stern.

"Why?" Blaine asked and Kurt realized with an absolute, nauseating certainty that he knew the answer to that question.

"I can't be exposing my students to any... unfortunate influences."

"In other words, you don't want us ogling them," Kurt said angrily.

The Coach cleared his throat. "I think you boys best sit this class out until we have something figured out."

Kurt clenched his jaw. He'd been made feel unwelcome enough in the changing rooms back at McKinley, but always by the other students. The teachers had always had the decency to at least pretend they weren't homophobic assholes who considered him some deviant freak.

Screw this school. Screw this town. Screw that goddamn remote and this whole freaking situation. Kurt uncrossed his arms. "Don't bother."

He grabbed Blaine's hand and dragged him out of there, wanting to get away from everyone and everything that sought to make him feel like an outsider. Blaine went along willingly and soon they'd reached the flagpole outside.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

His voice was shaking and small and Kurt stopped short at the sound of it. He turned. Blaine was staring at him with those big vulnerable eyes of his, his hand keeping a tight grip on Kurt's.

"Just," Kurt floundered, "away. Anywhere that's not here."

Blaine nodded. "I understand." He lowered his head, turned his eyes downwards. "I guess I hadn't realized how things would change. That people would look at us so different. Treat us like..."

He trailed off.

"Like there's something wrong with us," Kurt finished. His voice was soft, despite the anger flowing through him, making his brow sweat and hands shake. "But you know there isn't anything wrong with us, right? They're the ones who need to change, not us."

"I know." Blaine raised his head again and he didn't look scared or lost anymore. He looked calm. Confident in his own beliefs. "I may not know much, but I do know to trust my heart. I know that change can be scary and being scared can make you do stupid things." His lips quirked in a small grin. "Like go steady with a girl when it's really her brother you love."

He paused. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that how people treat us doesn't have anything to do with us. They're scared because we're different and we just need to teach them that there's nothing to be scared of."

"I wish I could have your optimism."

Blaine hugged him. His arms were strong and steady around Kurt and Kurt clung to him.

"We're going to be okay," Blaine whispered and he sounded so certain, Kurt couldn't help but believe him.

---

Rachel had been certain that nothing could make home economics at Pleasantville High School worse than it already was. She'd been forced to smile and play the aspiring happy little homemaker, not to mention handle and use animal produce.

Of course, she'd failed to take into account that home economics might possibly be segregated.

It wasn't enforced by the teacher, and Rachel couldn't decide if that made the situation better or worse. One side of the classroom was overtaken by girls still in black and white and the colored girls stood on their side, looking downtrodden and defeated.

It was a nightmarish hour and a half and Rachel could hardly wait for it to be over so she could escape the stifling atmosphere in the classroom, if only for a little bit, and meet up and commiserate with Kurt and Blaine.

But as the bell rang and the students poured out of the classrooms, Rachel looked around and could see no sign of Kurt and Blaine anywhere. Her heart sank to her stomach. What could have happened to them?

"-can't believe they ditched school."

She spun around. A group of boys were standing in front of the doors to the gym. Rachel recognized Tommy as the one who had spoken, but she didn't know the rest of them.

"Why wouldn't they?" one of the boys, a bulky-looking guy with a bruised jaw, said. "Those freaks know they're not welcome here."

There was no doubt who they were talking about now and before she knew she'd even moved, Rachel had crossed the hallway. But she didn't need to speak up for Blaine and Kurt.

"They're not freaks, Johnny," Tommy said angrily.

"Yeah?" Johnny sneered. "I suppose you're the same."

Tommy looked stricken but he recovered quickly. "Suppose I am. What business is that of yours?"

"It's my business when I gotta share the locker room with a bunch of deviants."

One of the other boys squirmed. "Come on, Johnny, you shouldn't be talking like that."

"Yeah, Johnny," Tommy said mockingly. "Quit mouthing off or people might start to think you're hiding something."

It all happened too fast for Rachel to properly see but one moment, Tommy was leaning into Johnny's space, smirking tauntingly, and in the next he was on the floor, clutching his cheek.

Johnny stared at his raised fist with a look of utter bewilderment and before he could move to attack again, Tommy jumped off the floor and tackled him. They landed in a heap, shoving and punching each other.

Chaos erupted. Two boys shoved past Rachel to either stop the fight or join in, but they were intercepted by Johnny's friends. More joined in to help Tommy, Lisa Anne among them. The fight spread across the hallway.

Rachel backed into the nearest wall and pressed herself against it. She drew a few shaky breaths, trying to get herself under control and think of something. From the corner of her eye she saw the Coach exiting the gym. He stared in horror at the scene before him, but did nothing to try and stop it. Other teachers were lurking in the doorways to their own classrooms, not one of them moving in to help.

Betty Jean joined her by the wall. Her hair was a wild mess and her glasses were askew. "We gotta do something."

Rachel licked her lips. What could they do? She'd never been in a fight and even if she had, there wasn't much she could do against fifty people. She banged her hand against the wall behind her in frustration.

And hit the fire alarm. Sirens began to sound and the fighting teenagers all stopped attacking each other in order to flee to the nearest exit.

Well. That would work.

---

"Shouldn't you boys be in school?"

Kurt cursed underneath his breath as he closed the front door. He'd forgotten that Betty would be home. He hadn't really been thinking straight, just wanting some place to hide from the world for a little while and the Parker house, for better or worse, felt like the safest location.

"They didn't want us there," he said and raised his hand, which was still intertwined with Blaine's.

Betty's concerned expression turned outraged. "They sent you home?"

"Not exactly," Blaine said helpfully. "The Coach wouldn't allow us to use the changing room."

"Is that so?" Betty pursed her lips and Kurt was abruptly reminded of his dad. His heart ached and he wondered whether his real mother would be as protective of him.

George poked his head out into the hallway. "Is something the matter? What are you boys doing home so early?"

"What are you doing home so early?" Kurt asked.

George lowered his eyes, looking ashamed. "I... well, what with the way things are at the office." He sighed and stepped completely out in the hallway. He was wearing his suit and tie, matched by a pair of worn-looking slippers. "I couldn't go, looking like this. So I called in sick."

Betty put her hand on her husband's shoulder in comfort. She still looked angry at the news from Kurt and Blaine, but Kurt couldn't help but marvel how well she was handling the situation. Whereas George looked ready to fold in on himself, Betty was holding her head high, not an ounce of shame or discomfort apparent in her demeanor.

"Just wait and see, dear," she told George. "Things are going to change. Even if we must be the ones to change them."

George didn't look very comforted at all by that notion.

"I think it's best we sit down in the living room," Betty said. "You boys need to tell me everything that happened."

Kurt nodded but before any of them could move out from the hallway, Rachel came bursting in the door. She was breathing heavily and stared at the five of them with wild panic in her eye.

"Riot," she blurted out.

"What?" Kurt and Blaine chorused.

Rachel took a second to catch her breath. "A riot broke out at the high school. I – someone pushed the fire alarm, but all that did was send everyone out into the streets." She looked near tears. "They destroyed the Soda Shop!"

Kurt felt Blaine's hand squeeze his, but it felt distant. Someone was saying his name but he couldn't find his voice to answer them. This couldn't be happening. How could this be happening?

Because of him, he realized with belated horror. He'd punched Johnny, he'd introduced violence to Pleasantville. He'd ruined everything.

Rachel grabbed his shoulders roughly, shaking him out of his stupor. "I know what you're thinking, but this isn't your fault. They'd already burned the books, remember? This was bound to happen."

"Bound to..." Kurt blinked. He felt like he was suffocating. "What do we do?"

"Nothing," George chimed in. "There's no need to throw ourselves in harm's way; it could only make things worse."

In almost perfect synchronization, all three teenagers turned to Betty.

"He's right," she said. "We need to stay indoors and hope they don't start attacking the residential areas."

The idea of sitting at home and waiting for the fires to put themselves out seemed unbearable, but Kurt had all too much experience in playing the passive victim. He knew that sometimes, doing nothing was the right course of action if you wanted to live to fight another day.

Betty seemed to take the silence as all the confirmation she needed. "Let's grab a bite to eat, shall we?"

---

They sat by the dining room table for hours, but none of them had a bite to eat. At one point, Rachel weakly suggested that Blaine might want to check on his parents, but Blaine quickly turned that suggestion down. If they were involved at all, he said, they'd be aiding in the destruction, not attempting to stop it.

Occasionally, shouts could be heard from outside the window, but otherwise things were quiet. You could almost fool yourself into thinking there was nothing unusual happening outside at all.

After what felt like an eternity later, there was a knock on the door. The five people in the dining room all looked at each other. At last, Kurt stood up. He was only vaguely aware as he walked towards the front door that the rest of them were at his heels. He grabbed the doorknob and before he could think twice, turned it and opened.

There were two grim-looking men in black and white standing outside.

"Bud Parker and Blaine Anderson?" one of them, a rotund man with wide shoulders, asked.

Kurt swallowed. "Yeah?"

"We need you to come with us," the other, taller, skinnier, man said.

"What for?" Rachel demanded.

"Young lady, you should watch your tone," the taller man said firmly.

"You must understand," the rotund man said, "what with these... unprecedented events, someone needs to be held accountable. The people need to see the responsible parties taken care of in an orderly and appropriate manner."

"So you're blaming my son?" Betty demanded angrily. "He had nothing to do with it, he wasn't even there."

"He and his," the taller man paused and his expression turned sour, "friend, were the cause of the outbreak, according to our witnesses."

"Why you-"

"Mom," Kurt said, "it's fine." He eyed the taller man disdainfully. "Will we get a trial?"

The two men exchanged weary glances.

"Certainly," the rotund man answered. "All we want is some justice. Like I said, the people need to see the responsible parties punished."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, okay. We'll come with you."

There were no handcuffs, no one reading them their rights to remain silent and whatnot, nothing like what you see in the movies. The two men walked Kurt and Blaine to their car and made the short drive to the town square. The car stopped in front of a small house with bars on the windows; Kurt remembered seeing the house when he walked by but as far as he knew, it had stood empty up until now.

They were escorted inside. The police chief sat at the desk and he turned his eyes down when he spotted Kurt and Blaine. He looked ashamed.

There were two small cells side by side. Kurt, who had up until then been overtaken by a strange calm, felt the first thrill of panic as the rotund man opened both doors. But there was nothing to be done now, they'd already allowed themselves to be arrested.

"You trial is scheduled tomorrow morning at eleven," the taller man informed them as rotund man split them up and shoved Kurt inside one cell and Blaine in the other. "I suggest you get a good night's sleep.

They left. The police chief remained at his desk, with his head downturned. A casual observer might say he was sleeping.

"What are we going to do?" Blaine asked.

Kurt sat down by the wall. There were no beds in the cells, only hard, wooden benches. "Get some sleep, I guess."

Blaine sat down as well and reached his hand through the bars. Kurt took it.

"However this goes," Blaine said, "I'm glad I'm here with you."