Note: Like with my last stories, this was first published on AO3. Now that I'm basically done with the Searching series (unless I get more prompts, it's over), I've decided to publish this on . It's 10 chapters, and I'll be updating daily. Enjoy!

I know only a little about American Sign Language - I recently started teaching myself, but I'm not going to claim to be anything close to an expert or even marginally good. The text that is said to be signed pays no attention to the rules of ASL grammar, and I'm not even trying to describe what the gestures look like.
In general, italicized text is either signed or written (I'll say which one), and if it's italicized and in quotation marks, it's both signed and said aloud.

Principal Figgins sat behind his desk on August 31st, the official first day of school at William McKinley High. This year was sure to be just as insane as last year, especially with Sue Sylvester's continuing weekly mood swings. He looked up when he heard his secretary welcome a mother and her son into the waiting room before his office. Looking back down to the file on his desk, Figgins sighed. This must be the Anderson kid. There were a lot of kids at McKinley that would make any sane principal want to quit his job and move far away, but even Noah Puckerman and David Karofsky seemed like they would be easier to deal with than Blaine Anderson. Not that Blaine had any sort of bad record. Quite the opposite, in fact. With the exception of an "incident" at a school dance – he was the victim, so it was by no fault of his own – his records were gleaming brighter than any student at McKinley's. He was only a sophomore, but Blaine was already taking advanced chemistry, precalculus, and physics. His grades from freshman year were all As – and all honors classes, too. No, that was definitely not the reason that Figgins was not looking forward to having Blaine Anderson at McKinley. He was not looking forward to having Blaine at his school because Blaine was Deaf.

According to the file, Blaine had been Deaf since birth and therefor also didn't speak. He had been attending Westerville High School, which actually had a bit more supportive of a program for Deaf students, but after the "incident" last year, that was no longer an option. Although there was a school for Deaf kids nearby, Blaine's family couldn't afford the tuition, so here he was at McKinley. Walking through Figgins' office door right now, actually.

"Hello, you must be Mrs. Anderson," he greeted the tall dark-haired woman who walked through his door.

"Yes, it's a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face, Mr. Figgins," she said kindly, extending a hand in greeting. "This is my son, Blaine. I do hope that you'll be able to work things out for him here."

"Yes, well, that will be difficult. We do not have any sort of program in place at the moment, since Blaine will be our first Deaf student. However, we do have a supportive special education staff that is dedicated to helping the students in their care."

All the time that Figgins was talking, Mrs. Anderson was signing his words to her son. As soon as she reached the part about the "special education program" a sour look crossed his face. Quickly, he began signing back to his mother.

"Blaine and I both agree that he does not need to be in the special education program," she said. "I'm sure you've seen his grades, he is a remarkable student. I doubt that your special education staff is qualified to teach physics and calculus, as those are classes that he will be taking in his time here."

"Well, no, it's true that those teachers are trained for students with developmental and learning disabilities, but that is, unfortunately, the best that we can do."

"Can anyone here even sign?" Mrs. Anderson asked, although she was already sure of the answer.

"No."

Blaine's hands began moving in a flurry of activity again, and Mrs. Anderson nodded along, responded, and then turned back to Figgins.

"At Blaine's old school, one way that they helped him in classes that weren't part of the Deaf-education program was that he was assigned a buddy. The teacher would provide him with an outline of the notes for the day, and his buddy, another student enrolled in the class, would take notes to share with him. Blaine would, of course, be taking his own notes, but if the teacher ever say something while his back is to the class, there is no other way for Blaine to receive the information."

Figgins paused for a moment. It did sound like a good idea, and much cheaper than hiring a new staff member. Plus, he could petition the school board for extra money by citing the amazing work they were doing with their new Deaf student.

"I'll have to talk with teachers and students to make sure they are okay with this. In the meantime, however, Blaine will have to attend special education classes."

"Thank you Principal Figgins," Mrs. Anderson said, acknowledging that this was the best deal she was going to get for her son. "And also, if you wouldn't mind, could you keep Blaine's condition concealed for now? He doesn't want to stick out too much just yet."

"Of course. It was lovely meeting you."

Blaine's first week at McKinley was spent in frustrating silence. Not only did no one sign, leaving him to resort to lipreading and writing notes, but he was also stuck in the special education classes. Now, he had nothing against these other kids, and thought no less of them. They were all pretty cool in fact. But the fact that he was stuck trying to teach himself the basics of the first unit of physics with only the assistance of notes written by a woman who had been trained in helping mentally challenged children and hadn't taken physics since she herself was in high school was incredibly annoying. So he was thrilled when his mother told him that he was going to be integrated into the McKinley classrooms at the start of his second week.

Monday morning, he and his mother stood in Figgins' office with three other students. One was a blonde boy a few inches taller than Blaine, another was a girl who looked like she walked out of an Abercrombie ad, and the third was a slightly pudgy boy with shaggy hair.

"Alright students," Figgins began, "this is Blaine Anderson. He just started his sophomore year here at McKinley, and he will need some help with his classes. Each of you is in at least two classes with Blaine, so when that class rolls around, you will sit next to him in the front row and take very good notes to share. All your teachers have already been informed."

None of the students looked all that happy. They obviously hadn't been told why they were here.

"Blaine is Deaf, so he cannot hear you or the teachers, which is why he'll need your assistance. However, you are also not to spread information about this around school. Am I clear?"

They all nodded their heads, looking at Blaine curiously.

"Why don't you introduce yourselves?"

The first boy stepped forward. "Um, can you read lips?" he asked.

Blaine smiled, nodded, and began signing. His mother translated. "He can, however it's very imprecise. Signing and writing are easier."

"Okay, well, my name's Sam Evans. I just started my sophomore year here, too."

Mrs. Anderson's hands flew as she translated. Blaine responded to her and she translated once again.

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

The girl introduced herself next as Erica, and the other boy was Tom. Blaine grinned at each of them nervously as he tightened his backpack straps.

Everyone in the office, except Blaine, jumped when the bell rang to signal the beginning of the day. Mrs. Anderson signed goodbye to her son as he followed Sam off to his first period history class.

Sam had a quick chat with Mr. Dunstan, the teacher, before he and Blaine took their seats. He shyly looked over at Blaine before pulling out a notebook and beginning to write. When he finished, he passed it over to the boy.

Hey, my name's Sam, in case you forgot. Um, I don't really know why they wanted me to help you out because I'm not the smartest and I definitely don't pay attention a lot, but I totally will try to help you. But you're probably smarter than me, so you'll probably end up schooling me in this class. Mr. Dunstan writes pretty much everything he says on the board, so that's helpful.

Blaine grinned upon reading the note. He quickly began his response while the rest of the class filed in.

Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate this. Figgins wanted to put me in special ed classes, and although those kids are nice, I really need a challenge in schoolwork. And thanks for trying with this whole note passing thing. It means a lot.

Sam smiled sadly at Blaine's words. He knew exactly how Blaine felt. Well, maybe not exactly, but he could sympathize. He and Blaine were both new kids trying to find a place to fit in. Blaine just wanted friends but had a communication barrier. Sam wanted popularity but had a nerdiness barrier.

I know a lot of languages already – mostly useless ones like elvish and na'vi. Maybe you could teach me some sign? Whatever you and your mom were doing looked really cool.

Blaine's face brightened up when he read Sam's second message.

Like from Lord of the Rings and Avatar? I love those movies! And the Tolkien books are awesome, too. Did you hear they're making a Hobbit movie?
And I'd love to try to teach you sign, but it might be hard. I've never tried to teach anyone before.

Before Sam could respond, Mr. Dunstan was starting class and both boys began taking notes. After class, Sam walked Blaine to his next room where he met up with Erica. However, he also left a note with Blaine offering him a seat at lunch.

Blaine found Sam easily at lunch, and the boys held a written conversation. It was interrupted a few minutes in when a large group of kids who were all dressed alike began dancing and (presumably) singing in the courtyard. Sam was immediately distracted. He looked up and tapped along to the beat. Blaine just turned his head to his sandwich and tried to ignore how left out he felt.

After school that day, Blaine told his mother all about how he thought that he and Sam were going to be real friends. Mrs. Anderson was delighted to see her youngest son so happy, especially since she knew that smile would be wiped off his face when his father came home.

Mr. Anderson was not a bad man. He had been totally supportive of Blaine through all of his life, up until last year when Blaine came out to them. Suddenly, he had turned a cold shoulder to his struggling son and left the poor boy floundering on his own.

Blaine went up to his room to do his homework, but Mrs. Anderson heard the notes from the piano floating downstairs less than an hour later. She could still remember the day Blaine first announced that he wanted to play piano.

Eight year old Blaine came barreling down the stairs.

"Mommy, I want to be just like B-e-e-t-h-o-v-e-n," he signed, fingerspelling the name.

"What, Blaine?" she asked, not able to read Blaine's quick letters.

Blaine signed "One moment!" before running back upstairs. He came down a few moments later with a heavy book and pointed to an open page.

"Although by the time renowned composer and pianist Ludwig van Beethoven was 30 his hearing had deteriorated to a point almost near Deafness, he continued to compose. Many critics believe that his best pieces came from this period."

"Please, mommy?" Blaine signed.

Mrs. Anderson gave in.

It had been difficult finding a piano teacher who would tutor a Deaf student, but eventually they found one. She was an older woman, in her fifties, who simply doted on Blaine. After only a year of study, he had progressed further than many of her hearing students. Blaine's obsession with the piano and music had only grown.

Mrs. Anderson would often come home to find that the stereo was blasting at unreasonable volumes. Blaine would be found sitting in front of the speakers, eyes closed, feeling the vibrations of the bass. He loved to compare the vibrations of the different genres of music and try to guess what sort of music was playing. He was remarkably good, all things considered.