Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Proof ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter Eleven

Jon flexed his arms over his head, giving a bellow of laughter, Riley and the others joining in moments later. Fragments of the joke were then discussed in male jest, chuckles and laughter crowding out the teacher's voice. Tweedy twitched nervously, a ball of nerves over what had happened in the locker room with Gone. He couldn't help but think that every one of his friends sitting here knew his secret; he couldn't help but become paranoid in that, somehow, in someway, Gone had let them know what had transpired.

But every one of them was treating him the same; including him into their jokes, their insights, and their complaints over `coach'. Sitting where they were, in the midst of their Electronics Aid class, the center of attention, they were the popular crowd. Every one of them had their talents, their parents' money and influence, their good looks. Tweedy had been in this crowd for years; he dressed the part, he behaved the part, he thought the part.

To suddenly lose it all was something completely unfathomable.

His hairline gathered with sweat, and his heart race increased. If he lost it all because of his outed revelation by some kid that was already `confirmed' by the others…what would he be? Who would he be? Would every one in the school, once his friend, treat them the same way as they treated Gone? With cruel taunts, disgust and no respect?

He swallowed hard, feeling his Adam's apple bob. Feeling the tenseness of his athletic shoulders, the way his knee jiggled underneath his desk.

“What's your prob?” Derrick asked him, finally noticing his nervous energy.

“Nothin',” Tweedy answered quickly, wiping his forehead. “It's hot in here.”

“It's just me,” Jon said, flexing his shoulders, gained from a variety of sports.

“You only think so, fag,” Riley said with a laugh. “That Lileah didn't think so.”

“She blew me once.”

“She did not!”

“She totally did! She wanted my dick so I gave it to her.”

Tweedy snorted, all of them now eyeing the girl. She was sitting towards the back, grouped with the other athletic girls. A shy smile came to her painted lips, and she waved at them.

“She did not,” he said, shaking his head.

“She did! Huh, Lileah?” Jon called, catching her attention once more. “Just say `okay', okay?”

“No!” she laughed. “What are you guys talking about?”

Once the two groups merged, the teacher lost in his drone over explaining a subject to a smaller group of kids that were sitting up front, Tweedy felt his stomach clench in anxiety. He was part the popular crowd. They got respect, from other students and teachers alike. They crawled past normal grading measures to qualify for athletics. Other parents in the communities wanted their kids to lead the same lives as them. Girls wanted them, boys wanted to be them.

What if he lost it all?

He swallowed hard, drumming his electronic pen atop of his notebook. It was pasted with baseball stickers, with a couple of girlish decorations from the cheerleaders. It had his friends' cell numbers, the number to Highlands' only adult store as a joke. It had sat in the den of prizefighter GoDarun's house, and was touched by his adopted son.

His fingers shook as he quickly reached up to tug at sandy colored hair. He thought of how Gone looked in his shirt and felt a sickening feeling of approval. He recognized the disappointment in how he hadn't got to see how the other looked in the middle of changing. He realized how fast his thoughts had changed, remembering how the boys in his group looked without their shirts; how sweaty and becoming they looked while in the midst of their particular sport. How exciting it was to be standing among them, the air filled with testosterone and charged adrenaline, how breathless he got just by looking at them.

Guilt, overwhelming disgust and helplessness caused his stomach to clench tightly, and he winced. His thoughts had never bothered him so much before, and to have this devastating situation brought down on him so close to graduating, to having his plans dashed because of one person was absolutely crushing. He tried to focus on what was being said around him, but he found his thoughts straying to the way Gone smelled that Saturday. To the way it felt when Tweedy crowded him while trying to show him how to swing the bat.

Angrily, he dashed at his forehead, wiping his shaking hand on his jeans. He tried to focus on Jon's crows of insults over Riley's blocking skills, but then he started thinking of how Anthony's muscular chest looked with a man-beater on over it. How the dark hairs that were centered between his pecs looked, how he smelled after a hot summer's day out on the field.

“Christ, I need to get something to drink. Anybody need stuff?” he asked suddenly, rising from his desk, shaking hands digging for his wallet.

After a general callout was made, he hurried out of the classroom without asking for permission—already knowing his teacher would allow him—and strode very quickly towards the cafeteria. He'd bug the lunch people behind the counter for some drinks and eats, an everyday thing. The school staff catered to their athletes, and with his friendly persona, they would give him anything he'd wanted without paying.

He wiped at his face again, using the collar of his shirt. He imagined that if he ever got his shirt back from Gone, meaning he'd have to talk to him again, it'd smell like him. And the thought excited and angered him at the same time. He hit the lockers as he passed them, growling an expletive. Pausing short in the hallway, he took the time to gather himself. It was fortunate that he did, for rounding the corner was Anthony, grinning at the sight of him.

“`Sup, Tweed? Skipping class? I had to take this huge shit.”

“Awesome.”

“Must've been the bologna.”

“That's so gross.”

“Oh, hey, I'm solving your problem for you. Talk to you later,” Anthony then said, taking off down the hall.

Tweedy looked after him with a short wave, but found himself a little grateful for his best friend's abrupt arrival and departure. Because of his cryptic words, Tweedy found his thoughts turned away from the intensity of his feelings to think about what Anthony meant. With a shrug, he continued on toward the cafeteria.

0o0o0o0

Jake frowned at the hallways, feeling impatient and upset. It was nearly fifteen minutes after the last bell had rung, and there still wasn't any sign of Gone. After gym class had ended, he'd figured that the other had headed off to his next class; it hadn't been such a big deal with his absence, for Gone did that sometimes. But Jake had checked that class, had Bart look in the bathrooms and had made several dashes through the halls to see if Gone was in any of them. He was now waiting by his locker, waiting to see him emerge from one of the corridors nearby. The halls were nearly empty, and various teachers were locking up their classrooms.

Chase had practice to go to, the team heading out to the track for some conditioning. He'd left the pair standing alone, promising to catch up with them tonight to share some gossip he'd heard about various things.

“He must've went home,” Bart muttered beside him. “He's not here.”

“Can you call there?”

“I already tried. No one answered.”

“Dad's not home, either. He went to Portland to supervise some building being all made.” Jake chewed on his fingernail, anxiously eyeing the halls. “He wouldn't just leave me, man. He wouldn't just take off. We made plans.”

Bart frowned, feeling uneasy. He watched a couple of sophomores walk by. “Where's that group at? Seen Tweedy heading outside earlier.”

Before he could say anything more, Jake was racing off toward the parking lot. Bart followed, catching up to him as Jake dashed out in front of a car, the vehicle stopping short to avoid hitting him. Jake called out to Tweedy, the senior talking and laughing with a couple of friends from inside his vehicle. The blond looked up at hearing his name, and scowled once he realized it was Jake. Bart eyed his friends to assess their threat before watching what looked like realization cross over Anthony's face. The senior looked so startled that he looked lost for a couple of moments.

“Where's Gone?” Jake asked Tweedy, the other frowning.

“I don't know. I haven't talked to him since Physics.”

“You haven't seen him at all? What about before last class?”

“No. What, like, you lost him?”

“I just thought he'd be talking to you!”

“Hey, gotta go, man,” Anthony said quickly, striding off toward the school. Bart looked after him suspiciously.

“He's not around! We had plans to meet after school, and he doesn't drop his plans like that,” Jake insisted, peering into Tweedy's car, as if expecting to see Gone inside.

“Back off, man! Shit, I didn't see him! Look, I gotta go. Got things to do,” Tweedy then said, starting the car and pulling away. Jake straightened, looking at Bart with a frustrated frown.

“Maybe he had to take a dump at home,” Jake mumbled.

“Not uh. Not uh, follow this guy,” Bart then said, using his chin to point after Anthony, who was striding into the school.

“Why?”

“Because he's up to something.”

“How can you tell?” Jake asked in bewilderment, racing off for the school, Bart close behind him. Both of them didn't see Tweedy parking his car nearby, watching them follow after Anthony. When they walked in, he was climbing out of his car, puzzled and scared in that they were going to pick on his friend. He decided to follow to make sure nothing happened.

Once inside, Jake spotted Anthony heading for the gym. He gave Bart a clueless look, the other striding away from him and heading after the shortstop. Extremely puzzled as to why Bart wanted to follow after the guy, Jake followed him. Once they reached the gym, Jake lingered, uncertain of where to go while Bart picked on the locker room. He then stopped short, gesturing at the bleachers.

“Wait right here. Just wait,” he instructed, pointing at the bench when Jake started to protest. “Don't say nothin'. Don't move.”

“Why are we in here? G's prolly at home already!” Jake whined. “Why do you wanna follow after that guy? He probably just forgot his stupid jockstrap.”

“Just. Wait. There.” Bart gave him a cross look, then silently headed into the locker room. The area was still, but he heard the opening of a door. Venturing in that area, he glanced around himself, straining his ears for anything out of the ordinary. He heard Anthony's loud clamor of footfalls down a stairway, the sound puzzling him enough to pick up his step. Once he saw that there was a door open beyond the showers, he grew interested. He hurried over and peeked down into the darkness, hearing Anthony say something that was muffled by the distance he had.

Bart started down the stairway as well, hearing the scrape of a chair over hard floor and the opening of a door.

Tweedy walked into the gym, spying Jake instantly as the other kicked the bleachers in boredom. Seeing that neither Bart nor Anthony was present, he scowled at the other. “Hey. Where's your boy?”

Jake whirled around in surprise. “Thought you left?”

“No.”

“You came back? Think we're going to beat up on your friend? Hah,” Jake sneered at him.

“Where's Anthony?”

“Dunno. Locker room, I guess.”

“Why's he in there?” Tweedy asked, feeling apprehensive as he hurried in, Jake following him.

“I don't know! I don't know what the fuck's goin' on, I just wanna go home.”

Both of them startled at a loud commotion, jumping at the sight of the open door near the back of the showers. As they started to venture in that area, Anthony flew out from the doorway like a ragdoll, hitting the floor with a grunt. Both Tweedy and Jake came to abrupt stops, both struck by bewilderment at the sight. Anthony pushed himself up, seeing them with a startled jerk. He started to look guilty once he spied Tweedy standing there, but before he could say anything, Bart emerged from the basement with Gone in tow. It was obvious Gone was upset, his face streaked with tears, hiccups audible.

“Jesus, what the hell?” Tweedy gasped, unsure of what had happened as he found himself moving toward Anthony to help him up.

“Ask your boy `what the hell',” Bart said, shoving Gone to Jake, the other catching him with a startled exclamation. Gone merely clung to him, overwhelmed over spending a couple of hours in that dark room, unsure if he was going to be let out.

“I don't have anything to say! I don't have to say shit!” Anthony spit, brushing off his clothes. “You're dead, McKinley! You don't treat me that way! I don't have to be thrown around like this!”

“What happened?” Tweedy demanded, unsure of what to do as he looked from Anthony to Gone.

“Oh please, what are you going to do?” Bart asked Anthony.

Anthony remembered Bart's Superhuman abilities and realized that he couldn't do anything physically. He reddened with frustration and anger, trying another tactic. “It was only a joke!”

Bart pointed at Gone. “He ain't laughing, is he?”

“Oh my God, what you care? He your boytoy, too? Fag.”

“Ew,” Bart muttered in disgust, absently wiping at himself.

“What happened?” Tweedy thundered, slapping Anthony's shoulder to get his attention.

“He locked that sucker up in the room down there. Saying something about teaching him a lesson,” Bart reported, striding around the pair to meet up with Jake, who could only glare at the others while he allowed Gone to cling to him. “Dunno how long he been in there.”

Anthony swiped his hands through his dark hair and threw Gone a disgusted look. “It wasn't even that long! Besides, it wasn't even anything that horrible. I just gave him time to think about what he's doing. Fuckin' crybaby.”

“You what?” Tweedy asked, looking at him in appalled horror. “Why'd you do that?”

“You know damn well why I did!” Anthony growled at him. “You wanna hang out with that kid? Have everyone talk about you? I only did this for you!”

“I don't want anything done for me if you're going to do this!”

“Whatever. Whatever, you wanna hang out with that joke, get everyone talking about you, do it. I ain't helping you no more.” With that, Anthony turned to leave, rubbing at his hip.

But before he could, Jake shoved Gone aside and rushed at him, growling obscenities. Bart rushed to grab at him, then let him go with a cross of his arms, smirking as he waited to see what happened next. Anthony turned to meet him, both of them shoving into each other with shouts. Tweedy rushed in to pull Jake away, clumsily trying to get a hold of him. Anthony and Jake's wild, nearly uncontrolled movements in trying to hurt the other only aided their frenzy, landing only swiping hits. Both of them then managed to get a hold of the other's shirts, both of them hitting at each other in hectic fashion. Bart had to laugh at the display, finding amusement in the uncoordinated action.

Tweedy managed to crowd in enough to yank Jake back, both of them slamming against the lockers while Anthony gulped for breath, face red and sweaty with his efforts. Bart reached in to grab Anthony's collar, shoving him toward the door. “Go home. The elementary school was just let out. Pick on those kids while you're at it to feel a little manly.”

“Man, fuck you. Fuck you, you city prick.” Anthony moved to shove him, both hands hitting seemingly a brick wall as Bart held himself still. With a snarl, he then stomped out the doors, still rubbing at his hip.

Once Tweedy released Jake, the other aiding in the action with a sharp jerk of his body, he shifted away to a safe distance. He watched after his leaving friend in extreme bewilderment before looking back at the others, lost as to what to say or do.

“Your friend's a fucking prick!” Jake growled at him, furiously swiping his hair out of his face. “What's he all intimidated for, picking on somebody like this? What's he going for, Tweedy, you overgelled dingleberry?”

“Hey, hey! I can't talk for him! I don't know why he did that!” Tweedy exclaimed. He looked at Gone helplessly, but the other teen had his face covered with both hands, half turned from the scene. All this time he'd been quiet, struggling to get a hold of himself and keeping himself turned as to not even view the chaos that had happened in his behalf. “I'm so sorry—! I didn't know—!”

“Yeah right you didn't know! Liar! You probably set him up to do it!”

“I wouldn't do something like that!”

“All you damn jocks are the same! Fucking too scared to challenge somebody that will fight back!”

“It's not—!” But Tweedy cut himself off, knowing he was getting no where. He gave a helpless shrug.

Jake merely frowned at him, leading Gone away. Bart snorted, rolling his eyes, looking excessively bored now that the confrontation was over.

“Your friend sucks,” he said, following after Jake and Gone. Upset, Tweedy watched them go, standing alone in the locker room.

0o0o0o0

“Stop crying now,” Jake commanded. He dragged his sleeve over Gone's face in an attempt to clear away the tears. “Crying like this ain't helping your image.”

“I—I w-w-was so s-s-s-scared!” Gone sobbed into his hands, completely unhinged. He pulled away from Jake's rough treatment. “I—I k-kept t-th-thinking about tha-at well!”

“You're not there anymore! What Anthony did was fucked up, but now you're givin' him fuel about it!” Jake said roughly, unable to resist reaching out to hug him close. “He's going to tell everyone that you're crying like a baby! So stop it!”

“S-s-so?”

“Tweedy wasn't in on it,” Bart said, uncomfortably keeping his distance. The three of them were walking toward his car, the parking lot nearly empty now. There was a small group of kids lingering around a van, smoke hanging above their heads. They were parked in the back, almost too far for Bart to hear their conversations. “Just so you know. He was too surprised.”

“Stop crying!” Jake commanded again, giving Gone's arm a shake. “There's kids still here. Don't let them see you like this, it'll only be worse.”

To his credit, Gone tried to stifle himself, Bart hurrying ahead to open and start his car. By the time the kids in the van started to look over, Jake was already pushing Gone inside.

“I didn't know he was going to do that! I wouldn't have gone with him if I knew he was going to do that! I didn't even know how he knew to get down there!” Gone said, hiccupping and wiping at his face at the same time. He shifted aside to allow Jake to sit beside him.

“Yes, he's a huge shithead, G. But if you show up at home like this, Go's going to be all over you, so clean yourself up,” Jake said, wiping at his face again. “Let's not go home like this. Man up.”

“There were these weird noises down there. I was too scared to call for help because it sounded like someone was already down there. I couldn't even see. It was cold and it was too dark and I didn't want to touch anything!”

Jake patted his head and held him close. “It's okay, now. Everything's okay. You're here with us now.”

As he administered his comfort and his repetitive words of soothing, Bart concentrated on the road. His forehead was scrunched with thought as he listened, feeling quite uncomfortable with what was happening in his backseat. He told himself not to make fun; he knew that the pair still had lingering trauma over the well incident, with Jake confessing to having nightmares and avoiding the dark like it were a plague. Go had mentioned to Mr. James in passing that Gone had nightmares as well, the champion fighter having to force his son awake a couple of times after hearing him call out.

He understood trauma; he understood why humans continued to feel so terrified after something terrible had happened, and while he himself hadn't experienced such things, he'd seen it time and time again around him. Even as he felt as impersonal and cold as he did, being unable to identify with his charge and those emotions of those around him, he started to feel an inkling of sympathy.

Gone was truly upset; Jake was because of it, and their faces displayed every bit of it. It was hard for Bart to deny his own feelings. In a sense, he felt a shard of mystified joy—because Mr. James was right. The longer he spent with these guys, the more attached he became. He could talk smack about the trio as he wanted, but seeing a scene like this only made him feel things. He recognized that he felt bad for hearing Gone cry, and he recognized that he felt helpless for Jake because it was obvious Jake wanted to do something, but he didn't know what.

It was amazing, to him, recognizing this breakthrough. He pulled up to the cul-de-sac, automatically going to the James'. Without saying anything to him, Jake helped Gone out and into the house, Bart trailing along behind them. Once inside, Jake abandoned him to race for the kitchen, dropping his jacket and school bag on the hallway floor. Uncomfortably, Bart stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and listened to Gone sniffle, wiping at his face and eyes, still caught up in his trauma to get embarrassed in Bart's presence.

With a heavy exhale, Bart reached out and touched his shoulder, feeling awkward as he did so. Waiting for some angry retaliation or word, he winced, fighting the instinctual urge to withdraw his hand and wipe it on his jacket. Instead Gone leaned against him, and Bart felt himself tense up, ready to jump away, certain he was going to get nose or eye juices on his William Rast clothes.

“Thank you,” Gone mumbled, hiccupping as he kept his face averted, feeling that and his neck and ears redden with embarrassment.

Bart grunted an answer of some sort, still fighting the urge to pull away when Jake hurried back, carrying a wet towel within both hands. Seeing the scene made him beam like some Christmas light, and Bart finally stepped away, feeling his skin crawl where Gone had touched him. He couldn't resist wiping his hand repeatedly on his jeans.

Jake didn't say anything, wiping Gone's face with the towel, as if he were some young child that couldn't handle the job himself. “It's all good. You're not hurt or anything, just all freaked out. Get it all out now and when we go to school tomorrow, you act like nothing happened. Okay?”

Gone pulled away from his rough handling, taking the towel for himself. “All right.”

Later that night, Chase took in what Jake had to say, his lips pressed thin. With a shake of his close cropped head, he picked up a slice of pizza and stuffed half of it into his mouth before saying, “I heard Tucker saying something about Anthony messing around with some kid. He'd bragged about it, dude. He told some guys that he locked this kid in the basement, and was trying to get some'ah them to remind him to go back before last period.”

“It was fucked up! Why's that guy got to be so insecure?” Jake asked angrily, picking up a slice and covering it with red pepper flakes. “He don't got a right to pick on G like that! Man, I'm so pissed, you should've seen it, Chay. G was all freaked out. Said there was somebody down there with him.”

“Peeps say its haunted!”

“I'm pissed! But Bart said that Tweedy wasn't in on it. Said something about being too surprised. Well, he was pretty pissed, too. So I'm thinking he wasn't in on it,” Jake grumbled. “Pussy. I wanted to fight him, but then Anthony was all raring to go anyway. So I went at him.”

“Did you kick his ass?! Man! I wish I was there! I would've helped! Why didn't Bart do anything?” Chase then whined.

“Because I had it handled! Bart's all hating on me, anyway. Said I fight like a girl,” Jake added on a huff.

The pair of them were sitting at Chase's kitchen counter, where Drake had invited the boys over for pizza. He and Mr. James were sitting in the living room, discussing their business while the pair secluded themselves in the kitchen.

“But I don't think Tweedy was behind it, anyway.”

“I don't think so, either. I mean, Tweedy's gay an' all, so I doubt he'd be all mean like that. Gay guys usually aren't that mean,” Chase generalized.

“I can't believe Anthony was bragging about it. You know what that did to that guy? Being in that well, it was like…” Jake shook his head, unable to describe it right. “It was so dark and quiet, and there were these noises there. An' every time I like, dream about it? I get so freakin' terrified. And that's what G was saying. That's what it reminded him of.”

“Geez, J, what we gonna do? I mean it, what we gonna do?” Chase asked, looking at him. “I can't let this shit go. I mean, think of it! What if Anthony forgot? What if he was still there tonight, an' we're all still sitting here, wondering what the fuck?”

“But what? Anthony's going to be talking shit tomorrow!”

“Busta. I mean it, he's a serious busta. I'd probably blast him if I saw him first,” Chase muttered. “Hell, all this time it was Anthony we had to watch out for!”

“Anthony's a shit-head, but…he isn't worth getting all kicked off the team,” Jake added, wiping his mouth. “Don't do anything. It's not the right time.”

“What we going to do, J? Just leave it? You know that guy'll be giving G shit some more!”

“G said he could handle it. I mean…we can't always be there. And…I dunno. I think that if he knows what's good for him, he'd drop it.”

“Anthony's gonna tell everybody what happened yesterday!”

“G said just let it. I mean, words can't hurt. And he's used to that sort of thing.”

“What if they get worse?”

“He's not going to hang out with Tweedy anymore, that's for sure,” Jake said, reaching for another slice. “He said he's done.”

“Well, finally! This stuff could've been avoided if he just did that in the first place!”

“Well…nobody can tell him different.”

Grumbling, Chase finished off the rest of the one liter soda sitting nearby. With a loud belch, he set it aside. “Yeah. Kid's so stubborn. Well, hell, now what? I swear I'm going to blast him.”

“Remember that you're on the team, son.”

“I ain't going to be playing in the finals anyway! Fuck it!”

“But you want to play next year, right? Don't fuck it up, Chase. Just let it go.” With a shrug, Jake finished off his last slice. “We'll just see what happens tomorrow. Maybe Anthony was all scared off by Bart's intimidation. He threw him out of the basement, dude. You should have seen his face. He was totally scared.”

“Bart's my man! If he didn't see that look on his face, G would still be down there, man. We would have never known.”

“I know. Well, today, cuz you know Anthony would be talking about it tomorrow, and we'd hear about it. But it would be no big deal cuz G wouldn't take it so hard.”

“Man that G. He's so secretive. He should be a secret agent.”

Jake had to laugh. He thought about what tomorrow would bring, furrowing his eyebrows as he did so. Being that it was Monday, it was probably going to be a long week; full of tension and excitement. He knew that the baseball jock was bragging about things; he knew that they'd keep up the teasing and ribbing.

But one thing was for sure, Tweedy was out of the picture. With that, he felt more secure with his relationship. He didn't feel so threatened anymore. He shrugged at the realization, reaching for more pizza.

0o0o0o0

`Just so you know, it doeshappen to be haunted.'

Bart startled at the voice that came from everywhere and no-where at once, straightening out of his five hundredth sit-up, giving his living room an inspection. He used the remote to switch off his music, the pulsing techno-beat ceasing immediately at the command. Once his heart-rate returned to normal, he wiped the sweat from around his hair line and gave an exasperated look at the shifting of shadows near his entertainment center. He'd recognize the voice of his employer, whomever it was, from anywhere.

His/her shifting form separated from the shadows, a moving figure without any distinguishing features. `The school had been a boardinghouse back in the fifties. One of the occupants had been a very lonely serial rapist in which, upon realizing authorities were closing in on him, guzzled battery acid to escape a prison sentence.'

“I don't believe or care about hauntings,” Bart grumbled, feeling self-conscious enough to pull on a t-shirt he'd left nearby.

`You are such a difficult child,' the shadow admonished, with no real threat. `Monitoring over your activities today, I find it absolutely delightful that you are, without a doubt, managing to lose some of that lone wolf syndrome you've had. Almost scary and exciting at the same time.'

Bart rolled his eyes, almost embarrassed that such things were being monitored. It felt almost invasive that his thoughts and actions were being watched by the man or woman that seemed to know everything without actually being there. He watched the shadowy figure flit through his school texts, pages rattling and flipping noisily.

“It's different,” he admitted reluctantly. “Things are different here than they are…over there.”

`You are getting attached.'

“I wouldn't say that. I think I'm adjusting to fit in. As such, I'm gettin' involved with their shit.”

``Involved'. McKinley, just admit to me that you're getting attached.'

He scowled, rising to his feet. “Look, if this visit isn't to notify me of any incoming threats or anything, why are you here?”

The shadow set aside the books they had been looking through. `I've been busy, lately, and I thought I had better check in with my employee. Make sure he's doing his job. Seeing as the kid's still as happy-go-lucky as he was before Chuyuri came along, I'm pretty confident that you've been doing your job. He's still Normal. LivingNormal. BehavingNormal.'

“Yeah, well, this normal you speak of? It's…different. It's annoying.”

`Are you not watching Lifetime?'

“I am! But…it's…geared for women,” Bart admitted with a sulky tone. “I don't deal with a lot of women out here.”

`It'll help.'

Bart couldn't help but feel he was being teased as the shadow seemed to chuckle, an alien feeling of mirth filling him. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched the figure walk from one side of the room to the other before facing him.

`It's okay to get attached,' it then told him gently.

Bart wasn't sure what to say to that, so he said nothing.

`It's okay to feel involved with things. It's entirely okay to live a life without the threatening drama of New Park. This is normal, McKinley. Something most of us wished for. You're living the dream.'

“Why? Why was it given to me?”

`Because, frankly, you were the only one of age, of competence, of availability at the time that I needed you. There were twenty choices I had to pick through, and you were the only one I felt confident with. Even with your emotional stump, I knew that there was something deep inside of you that—'

“You watched the same movie I did the other night!” Bart accused.

The figure choked.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he asked, “What is this about, anyway? Is there something important that I need to know?”

`Damn. I didn't think you'd catch that. Being about a waitress getting involved with a mob boss, whose son turned out to be her own half-brother, with whom she had an affair with after the boss denied her ability to drive him crazy, but accepted whole-heartedly after her—never mind.'

Bart gave it a disgusted look. “You are so random.”

`I'm insulted. How dare you insult your paycheck signer?' The figure then grinned, a white showing of teeth flashing through the black of its figure. `McKinley, you amuse me from time to time. It's all good. He is still unkilled!'

“It's been slow. I'm not complaining,” he added.

`With that, I'll advance you a bonus. Pick out something nice. Get another piercing. Maybe for your nose. That'd look…cool.'

“I'm not piercing my nose.”

`How about your nipples? You have a manly chest.'

“Why do I feel violated?”

`You are not fun. You're so grumpy. Lighten up. Have some fun. Get involved with that Holly Gellum chick, work off some sexual aggression.'

“I don't feel sexual.”

`You are so boring! Fine. Keep up the good work, Barton. But…I must admit, out of all the choices I had, I'm glad I chose you. That boy's happiness, his well-being? Is more important than anything, right now.'

“I understand.”

`You don't. You really don't, McKinley. But…I'll leave it at that.'

It left without a sound, disappearing from both his visual and awareness. Feeling uncertain as to whether or not his employer had actually left, Bart was guarded in allowing himself to feel satisfaction at their pleased words. To know that he was doing a job well done was good in itself, but to fully revel in it was another thing. He had to admit that living this life, cushy and safe, was starting to grow on him. He had regular meals, he had nice things, he had his own space and car; he was satisfied with it.

At the same time, he was starting to caution himself on it. To keep telling himself not to get used to it. At any time, at any day, things might change. And he was prepared for it.

Bart glanced around his living room, and then sat back down on the floor to continue his sit-ups. He couldn't quit squelch the feeling of satisfaction he felt in receiving this bonus for pleasing his employer.

0o0o0o0

The next day, Jake gave Gone a onceover. He looked sloppy, prompting Jake to frown as he reached out and tugged on a fitted cartoon character t-shirt. The jeans he wore had patches at the knees, and the hems were rolled up shabbily, hanging over his worn running shoes. His hair was uncombed, a touch of bedhead causing it to stand up on his right side. At least he'd brushed his teeth, for there was a smidge of white at one corner of his mouth.

“Go fix yourself up,” he commanded as he spit into his palm and attempted to wipe at the white at Gone's mouth. Gone ducked and pushed away quickly, doing it on his own. “Don't go to school looking like you're all emo.”

“No one cares, anyway.”

“I do!”

“So?”

“ `So' your face! At least fix your hair!”

“No.”

With a sigh, Jake attempted to run his fingers through it, trying to style it before Gone pulled away. He handed Jake a Tupperware container of fruit pies and an energy drink, Jake abandoning his efforts to take them.

“Let's just go to school like nothing happened,” Gone said on a sigh, pulling on his winter jacket, adjusting his scarf. “I'm freakin' embarrassed that I was bawling like a baby yesterday.”

Seeing that no one was around, Jake leaned down to kiss him. “It's okay. Probably if I were in the same situation, I'd feel the same way. I get freaked out over dark places, man.”

“I wish I got over that. I feel like such a baby.”

“Me too.” Jake kissed him again, cheered when Gone responded to him. They pulled away quickly at the sound of someone moving around in the den, and the pair left Gone's house, moving out into the chilled air, where the weather threatened to snow again. They headed back to Jake's house, where they would wait for Bart.

“If anybody says shit to you, just ignore it. But if anyone touches you, you fucking tell me, G.”

“I'm not going to run off and tell on everybody for saying something to me,” Gone grumbled. “If Anthony talks shit about it, that's it. I mean, so what? If I ignore it, he'll get bored and find someone else to pick on.”

“Yeah, but—!” With an annoyed sound, Jake opened the energy drink and drank half of it before belching loudly. “Fine. Fine, fine. Though, y'know, to make things awesome again? I told Chase we're going to all go into the basement to hang out. He wants to know if there's a ghost down there. I'm all curious, too.”

“Leave me out of it,” Gone said with a shiver. “I swear to you, on everything, I heard something moving around down there. I'd rather keep my distance.”

“Ha ha, what if it's one of those pervy things that peek in on people while they're talking showers? Wait…wait, I'm jealous. I wish I could do that. Oh, man, the entire football team, and the basketball team, and the wrestlers in their—!”

Gone gave him a disgusted look. Jake hurriedly cleared his throat. “Oh, c'mon. You know you'd do the same, too! I see the way you look at those guys, when you think I'm not looking!”

“I don't!”

“You do too! I caught you looking real hard at Tommy Lincoln that one day during gym, when he got that bloody nose and had to change out of his shirt.” Jake then looked pissed, frowning at the memory of Gone looking at the wrestler.

“…Okay. Fine. I was.”

“CHEATER!”

Gone laughed. Finishing off the fruit pies, Jake closed the Tupperware container and stuffed it into his backpack. Bart pulled up at that moment, so they climbed in, surprised that Chase was already there. The ride to school was noisy as it usually was, with Jake and Chase ribbing each other over their style of jeans, Bart complaining over the pushing and shoving that was done while he was trying to look into his mirror to fix his hair. Comforted and lulled by the usual behavior and noises, Gone stared out the window, wondering what today was going to be like.

He was apprehensive about what Anthony was going to say, about Tweedy's situation. He knew he was going to feel embarrassed for making such a big scene yesterday, but he wouldn't apologize for it.

When they pulled up to the school he gave a low, long exhale, preparing himself.

0o0o0o0

The first thing Bart noticed was all the looks the kids were giving them. The jocks, with their cocky expressions, their teenage athletic frames growing apprehensive at the sight of them, gave him his first clue.

Chase and Jake were talking a mile-a-minute over a text Tyler had sent Chase, and Gone was sticking so close to Jake that his nose might as well as have been in the teen's back. Bart watched from his peripheral vision as one well-known wrestler spoke quickly to a kid that belonged on the track team. The teen took off down a corridor, heading toward the senior section of the lockers, and Bart turned to see that a couple of the baseball kids were trailing slightly after their small group.

He had to wonder what had been said to have this particular group of kids riled up. Frankly, all this trouble about and between Tweedy and Gone was incredibly exasperating. For so much tension to be drawn in regards of their `friendship' was slightly laughable.

Chase looked up at that moment, frowning as he read another text. Jake hailed a kid he knew from one of their classes, nearly knocking Gone in the face. As they rounded into a corridor heading toward their lockers, Bart noticed several kids making quick movement in his peripheral vision.

He pivoted, hand snatching out to catch the baseball that Anthony had thrown, startling Jake as the teen ducked belatedly. As he did so, he cracked his head off of Chase as Chase had ducked at the sight as well. The younger teen crashed backward, slamming into Gone, sending that teen to the floor. Jake recoiled to grab his head, but he furiously snatched the ball from Bart's hand and flung it back at the other teen. Anthony ducked, the ball hitting a teen that couldn't duck out of the way fast enough.

In the midst of the chaos, he took off, laughing nastily as the teen that had been hit clutched her head and started to cry, her friends trying to comfort her.

“What the fuck? Get the fucker!” Chase cried, jumping to his feet while Jake flushed, feeling bad that he'd missed the shortstop. Chase moved to run after Anthony, but Gone grabbed his jacket and yanked him back. “What was that all about?”

“Don't get into trouble!” Gone hissed at him, grabbing him again when Chase moved to run. “It's not worth getting into trouble over!”

“He attacked us!” Chase screeched, pushing him off. Gone only grabbed him again, using his entire body weight to throw himself back in order to keep Chase from running away as the teen moved to run again. Both of them crashed against some lockers, the onlookers scurrying out of the way with laughs and startled sounds at the commotion.

“Bart had it under control!” Gone then growled, earning a firm hold on the taller boy's arm.

“Oh yeah! STILL!”

“Nice throw, playa,” Bart said, giving Jake a frown.

“I'm sorry—!” Jake called out, wincing at the curses that were thrown at him. A couple of teachers emerged from their rooms to investigate, teens scattering quickly to avoid being drawn into snitching. Bart pulled him and Chase along behind him, pushing them toward their lockers.

“Anthony was aiming for me, just so you know.” Bart gave a disgusted look, annoyed at the chaos. “'Ch. Like a baseball can do anything to me.”

“I just reacted!” Jake exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.

“Tyler just texted me, telling me that they're all up to something! Says that he's pissed at you for throwin' him around yesterday,” Chase said, catching his footing and shoving his phone into Bart's face. Bart pulled back automatically, pushing it away. “Says he's gonna get you back.”

“Like I'm scared.”

“What an asshole!” Jake exclaimed, checking to make sure Gone was still with them. “What the hell!”

“Anthony's such a pussy!” Chase declared, whipping off his backpack, nearly taking out a couple of his peers. “Getting all his friends to join in on a Bart-Hating club. Hah! PUSSIES!”

“Hi,” Holly interrupted, seemingly popping up out of no where and sending Jake and Chase into a startled jump away from her. She ignored them as she sidled up to Bart, the teen scowling as he eyed her hands, willing them to keep away from him. “Good morning, Bart. Gone? I heard what Anthony did to you, yesterday. My friend, Joy? She's friends with Thomas, the pitcher? Anyway, Anthony told him that you guys tried to jump him yesterday. After doing this big `joke' on Gone, so he's got all his idiot friends in on some scheme to get back at you. Have you told the teachers?”

“Bart, here, is Superhuman, Holly Gellum,” Chase said proudly, slinging an arm around Bart's neck, leaning down to do so. “There is nothing he fears.”

“I'll bet,” she said, an adoring look on her face as she eyed Bart. “But, you know, the jocks have nothing better to do but try and establish their dominance. Sometimes their coaches look the other way when they do something they're not supposed to. I don't want you to get into trouble.”

“Bart's not afraid of Anthony, Holly,” Jake said, reaching for his locker and spinning the dial. He noticed Gone was watching him closely, so he made sure to keep his eyes averted from the girl's overwhelming assets. “Anthony can do all the shit he wants to Bart—Bart will just kick his ass.”

“Kick his ass!” Chase echoed, punching Bart repeatedly on the arm.

“Stop touching me.”

“Anthony's telling everybody that,” Holly lowered her voice, giving Gone an apologetic look, “Gone was, y'know, trying to hit on Tweedy. That Tweedy had asked him to teach Gone a lesson and Anthony would do it so it wouldn't be on Tweedy. That's why he locked you in the basement.”

“He didn't say that,” Gone muttered, feeling confident that Tweedy wouldn't ask of such a thing.

“I didn't think so. Tweedy's too nice. I can see Anthony doing something like this without being told, because he's the type that likes to cause trouble. Like his stupid brother, Aaron? I heard he's a huge asshole.” Holly flipped her blue-black hair over one shoulder. “Bart, I don't want you to be suspended.”

“Ha, ha, Bart,” Chase chuckled, punching him again. Bart shoved him into the locker, the sound loud within the hall.

“Tweedy hasn't even come to school, yet,” Holly continued, eyes sparkling in light of Bart's action, impressed with how manly he was.

Jake shut his locker, turning away to look at Gone. “You need stuff? Let's go over there.”

As they started toward Gone's and Chase's lockers, Holly followed, excited to be by Bart's side. The teen looked pained. “I think Anthony's just jealous. In my honest opinion, he's a little miffed that Tweedy's looking to branch out. I think Anthony just got mad that he made another friend.”

Bart grunted, finding that the story was the same on their side as well.

“Tweedy is a nice guy. He'd give the shirt right off his back.”

“Huh, G, huh?” Bart said, reaching out to tug on Gone's jacket, the younger glaring at him in response.

“That's whose shirt it was?” Jake asked him.

“You spilled your lunch on me!”

“You could have just asked me for a shirt!”

“Anyway,” Holly continued, blinking heavily made eyes, “Bart, if you do get into a fight, I hope I'm there to see it.”

“You can be his Adrian!” Chase crowed, making them both wince at the volume of his voice. He punched Bart again. “Eh? Eh? Adrian? From that movie?”

“Kid, stop hitting me.”