Title: Moonchild
Author: Joyful ( )
Fandom: Baby-Sitter's Club
Pairing: Byron/Jordan
Rating: PG-13ish for now?
Disclaimer: Ann M. Martin and Scholastic own them, not I. Please don't sue, 'cause then I can't go to Otakon!
Summary: Jeff comes back to Connecticut after a year in California, to discover some changes among his old friends.
Notes: "Laertes" has been scrapped. Basically, (thanks to the other Joy's suggestion), I've taken the things I liked about it and am adapting them into something completely new. This is separate from all my other fics. This is for Joy, 'cause she rocks, and my wife Bunnie-Wan Kenobi. And also the most kick-ass beta of them all- Ms. Moon. Also, kicks damn plotbunnies I couldn't stop writing through 2 and a half classes today, when I should have been taking notes.
Ch. 1+
Jeff Shafer pulled his beat-up van into the SHS parking lot. In the past year he'd only been back to Stoneybrook for Christmas, because he'd been so busy. Mr. Shafer had been diagnosed with testicular cancer, and Jeff had volunteered to take care of Gracie, with Dawn off in Africa, saving the world as usual. So he helped out at home, while Carol went back to work full time, and Mrs. Bruen took care of Jeff's dad. But now that his dad had recovered and was back at work, Sharon Spier had asked Jeff to come back to Stoneybrook for his junior year.
So here he was, sixteen-years old-- although sometimes he felt much older— and back in Connecticut, at least for the school year. He'd gotten his driver's license back in Palo City, and his dad had given him enough money to buy himself a car. He'd been back in Stoneybrook for almost a week, but hadn't seen any of his friends yet. He'd been too busy unpacking, buying the beat-up old van with a pretty good engine, and convincing Richard that no, he didn't need a haircut. Richard had loosened up a lot after six years with Sharon, but he still had a long way to go. Still, Jeff knew that Richard did care, and was trying, so Jeff decided to cut the mad a little slack. He wasn't going to cut his hair, though.
Jeff stretched as he climbed out of "Becky," as he'd named his van. He kicked a pebble lightly with his Birkenstocks, and slung his green army-surplus messenger bag over his shoulder and shut the van door. He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of his old khaki cut-offs. His tanned, muscled calves showed strength from years of surfing. He wore an old Crash Test Dummies shirt with a puka-shell necklace, his wrists adorned with frayed hemp bracelets. His thick, white-blonde hair hung loose down to his shoulder blades. Jeff walked casually towards the main office. He'd gotten his schedule and locker assignment in the mail, but since he'd spent his sophomore year in California, he had to bring the school some papers with his transcripts and transfer forms and immunization records. He vaguely remembered where everything was from his freshman year at SHS.
Jeff recognized some people he knew as former BSC charges, and from the BSC summer day-camps. He spotted Becca Ramsey and waved at her. She'd grown up a lot since their "adventure" on that island all those years ago. He saw Jackie Rodowsky, only slightly surprised to see the redhead with his hair spiked up into a mohawk wearing a studded collar around his neck. With all the punks he knew back in California, he wasn't surprised Jackie had become one. The younger boy never really fit in, and he was pretty much a one-man mosh pit growing up. He admired the tight plaid bondage trousers and combat boots the other boy wore as they passed in the hall, and Jeff made a mental note to strike up a conversation with the boy later.
Jeff made his way towards the office and got everything squared away, although he did wind up missing homeroom. He got a parking pass for Becky and headed off to class. He had American History first, which was a class he usually enjoyed, being a bit of a history buff. He was almost late, but made it just in time and settled into a seat near the back. He noticed the "token goth kid" sitting in the back corner of the room. The boy looked so very familiar, but Jeff just couldn't place him. He wore platform boots with too many buckles, black bondage pants with chains, a fishnet shirt with a black wife-beater over it, and a bunch of jelly bracelets. His face had a light dusting of white powder, black lipstick and black eyeliner. As Jeff studied the boy's face, it clicked. That was a Pike triplet! When the teacher called roll, the boy indeed answered to "Pike, Byron." Jeff was somewhat amazed. When had Byron pierced his eyebrow? He stared at the boy for the remainder of the class, watching the boy with the spiked black hair take notes. The more Jeff watched Byron and thought about it, the less shocked he really was. Byron had always been the quiet one, content to read Poe and King and horror novels, and listen to darker music than his brothers. Thinking back, Jeff wasn't all that surprised that Byron had "gothed out," but he was surprised he hadn't heard about it. Jeff and the triplets still emailed every couple weeks, and this seemed like a somewhat major change. Jeff had no problem with goths, he hung out with a few back in California. He was familiar with the scene, liking some of the music, even if he didn't understand all of the gothic subculture. He had been raised to never judge people according to their lifestyle, and he had to admit that Byron looked good as a goth.
After history, he had creative writing, and found Byron in that class as well, along with another Pike triplet. He slipped into the seat next to the boy, wanting to talk a bit before roll was called.
"Jeff? Wow, I knew you were coming back this year; it's good to see you! Why didn't you write more, man?"
"Hi. . . Adam?" Jeff said tentatively, and the boy nodded his head. "Sorry, dude. I didn't have a lot of time after my dad got sick."
"How's he doing?" Adam asked, genuine concern in his voice. He drummed his fingers on his sketchbook, glancing over at his brother, who seemed to be pretending not to listen.
"He's much better now," Jeff said. "He's in remission, and back at work. Mom missed me, so it was decided I'd come here for the school year." Adam nodded, but didn't have time to respond as the teacher started to call roll. The teacher decided to throw them straight into work, by assigning them to write a paragraph on any feeling they'd experienced in the past week. Jeff wrote the assignment down, and stood up. He had another class before lunch.
This time Adam was in it—art class—but Byron wasn't. Adam briefly mentioned that Byron was taking photography this semester instead painting. SHS offered a wide variety of different classes, though not as many as Jeff's alternative high school back in California. As they walked towards class, Jeff asked Adam the question burning in his mind.
"Adam, how long has Byron been goth?" Adam sighed.
"Well, it's happened gradually over the past year, although I think it was building up even before then. Mom thinks it's a phase, and Dad thinks he's just trying to express his individuality from the rest of our giant family. His taste in music changed, got even darker than it already was. He always read those creepy novels, remember?" Adam asked, and Jeff nodded. "Well, he's gotten more and more into the whole death thing. He's really into vampires and zombies, and some really morbid shit. I was surprised, because he used to be such a scaredy cat."
"Yeah," Jeff said. "I asked him once, a couple of years ago, why he suddenly liked Stephen King. He said that once he understood why the stories were being written, once he got into the authors heads, they weren't so scary anymore."
"Yeah, well," Adam said, "he started to wear a lot of black, and listen to different music. He begged mom to let him pierce his eyebrow a few months ago, and she finally gave in. The make-up is a fairly new development. He's still a great guy," Adam insisted, defending his twin. "He's just going through some shit right now, but being Byron he won't talk to us about it. He just bottles everything up."
"Some of my friends back in Palo are goths or punks or metalheads. There's nothing wrong with it, it's just what they're into," Jeff declared, and Adam smiled.
The triplets had been growing apart lately, and it bothered Adam a lot. Jordan was into football, wrestling, Haley Braddock, and partying. Adam was into baseball, art, debate club, and anime. And Byron was into his own little world. He had a few friends, but spent a lot of time on his own. Out of all the Pikes, he spent the most time with Vanessa, who also wore a lot of black, and read the same poetry as her brother. Adam relayed these facts to Jeff, while they painted.
After class, Jeff followed Adam to lunch. Adam sat at a table and was joined by Charlotte Johannsen, Carolyn Arnold, James Hobart, David Michael Thomas, Jackie Rodowsky and Vanessa. Byron and Betsy Sobak—who Jeff noted was also dressed gothic—sat at the other end of the table. Jeff saw Jordan, who waved at him, but sat down at the next table, pulling Haley into his lap. Becca and Kerry Bruno sat down next to them, and they were soon joined by Shea Rodowsky and the rest of the football team.
"So, Jeff," James said, his rich Australian accent lilting in the air. "Are you glad to be back?" he asked.
"Yeah, I guess," Jeff said. "I mean, I'll get homesick when it gets cold, but there are people and things I miss on both coasts."
"Your hair's gotten so long," Charlotte said softly, her nose in a book even while she ate. "Like Galahad the Pure." Jeff chuckled a bit at that.
"Thanks." They all talked while they ate. Jeff ate his salad, and wished he had more food, but the school's vegetarian options were very limited. Jeff was sure that if it hadn't been for his older sister's activism, SHS wouldn't even have a vegetarian menu. He decided he'd be brown-bagging it in the future.
In fifth period, Jeff had a study hall, and was pleased to find Byron sitting by himself when he reached the library. Byron was listening to his black iPod and writing in a notebook. Jeff slid into the seat next to the other boy, and lightly tapped Byron's hand, noticing the black nail polish for the first time. Byron jumped a bit, and pulled out one ear bud.
"Hi," Byron said softly.
"What are you listening to?" Jeff asked.
"Placebo," Byron said, looking down into his notebook.
"Ah, good band. Glam rock is good," Jeff said, then sighed a bit. "I missed you." Byron didn't answer.
"You stopped writing," Jeff said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Your letters made me happy. But then they just stopped."
"I'm sorry," Byron said in a small voice. He started to doodle a skull and crossbones on his notebook. "Stuff happened. I couldn't talk to anyone for a while."
"You can talk to me," Jeff said. Byron took a breath, and looked Jeff in the eyes for the first time all day.
"Not yet," Byron said. "Vanessa knows some of it, and Betsy knows a bit more. But there's stuff I can't say yet." Byron said, looking down again. Jeff took it all in.
"Okay. You look good like this, Byron, it suits you. I just wish you didn't look so sad." Byron looked up and smiled.
"Well, it seems an old friend of mine has come back to town, so maybe I'll cheer up soon," Byron said. He stood up and put his notebook into his messenger bag that had been made out of duct tape. "I'll talk to you later Jeff, I have to go meet Betsy." He ran off quickly, and Jeff was left alone in the library.
Jeff didn't see Byron again that day, and before long school was over. He climbed into Becky and went off to do some shopping. He needed things for living in Connecticut, and things for school. He'd saved up enough money working part time in California to buy a bunch of things. He also wanted to decorate Becky. He stopped by the Salvation Army, and picked up an old mattress and some curtains, and turned the back of his van into a makeshift bedroom. He also picked up some warmer clothes, knowing he'd need them eventually. Around five, his stomach started to growl loudly, so he headed home for supper.