Chapter Two

"What a joke."

Jim Connelly paused in his stretching on the side of the soccer field to look over at Henry Bishop. Following Henry's gaze, he spied Alan running laps around the track the next field over with several other freshmen.

"Who, Alan?" Jim asked, returning to his stretches. "He's actually not that bad. I worked with him during his orientation at the beginning of the year, and he's doing me a favor. He's pretty cool for a freshman."

Henry snorted in disbelief, tearing his own gaze away from the track field. "You would say that; is Tracy this year's new stray you're adopting?"

Several of their teammates scattered along the side of the field snickered at Henry's comment. Jim rolled his eyes, letting the comment wash over him. He was a senior and only had a few months left of dealing with the elitist jerk. Henry's drive to be the top athlete and student at Wharton at any cost just wasn't worth his time.

Jim spared a brief feeling of pity for next year's students; Henry was only a junior, and already he strutted about the school and soccer field as though he were God's gift to Wharton. If Alan made the soccer team, Jim had no doubt there would be serious clashes between them. Where Alan tended to downplay his father's name and status in order to let his accomplishments stand on their own merit, Henry had no problem letting his mother's money do the talking for him. That particular combination of personalities promised an interesting end of the year for the soccer team.

Jim straightened, tuning back into the conversation that had continued without him among Henry and several other teammates.

" . . . more in class," Ashton Hayes was saying. "The teachers are starting to fawn over him. It's getting kind of sickening."

"His grades are getting better, though," Tristan Kent stated. "I was in the guidance counselor's office the other day and saw the class rankings. He's already moved into the top twenty percent."

"Don't forget about his older brothers," George Sheffield added. "All of them were star athletes in their days here. Didn't one of them win gold in the Olympics?"

"You better watch your step, Henry," Ashton said, smiling mischievously. "If Tracy makes the team, you might not be Wharton's best soccer star anymore."

The look of calculated anger on Henry's face unnerved Jim. "We'll see. He has to make the team first."

Jim frowned. He was just beginning to wonder if he should warn Alan when a sharp whistle pierced the air, startling the boys.

"Are we on break and I missed it?" Coach Kerry barked from the soccer field. "Get moving before I decide to increase your field sprints!"

The boys immediately ran onto the field, leaving the conversation aside in favor of obeying their coach.

Alan reached the end of his final lap and immediately slowed down, steering himself to the side of the track to begin his cool-down exercises.

"All right, gentlemen, I think that's enough for today," Coach Harris called out to his track team. "You all did a good job. Washburn and Adler, you still owe me three more laps for being tardy. The rest of you, hit the showers and get something to eat. Tracy, a word please."

Alan straightened as the rest of his team scattered at their coach's dismissal, walking over to Harris with an expectant look on his face. "Yes, Coach?"

Harris' expression softened slightly. Never one to play favorites, he nonetheless couldn't help but have a soft spot for the youngest Tracy. He'd known all of Alan's older brothers in one way or another and knew how hard it was for Alan to compete with reputations like theirs. "Have you thought anymore of my suggestion? Soccer tryouts are this Saturday."

Alan nodded. "I talked about it with John the other night. He thinks it's a good idea too."

Harris smiled. "So you'll try? I know it's a little outside of your comfort zone, but you're a good sprinter, which I think will work to your advantage there."

"Not to mention none of my brothers or my dad ever played soccer?" Alan asked knowingly, a small smile on his face.

Harris raised his hands in surrender, his smile widening. "You got me. Seemed like a win-win situation. But I really think you'll be good at it. I've had the pleasure of teaching all of you boys, and none of them have had your speed."

Alan shrugged. "Must be from all that practice I got running away from all of them," he replied cheekily.

Harris let out a bark of surprised laughter and clapped Alan on the shoulder. "Must be. Now get outta here before I make you run some more laps with Washburn and Adler. I'll see you Saturday."

"See you, Coach!" Alan immediately took off for the locker rooms, not entirely certain that Harris was joking about the extra laps. By the time he entered the locker room, most of his track mates were already in the showers. Spotting Jim Connelly on the other side of the room, he realized that the soccer team had also finished their practice for the night.

"Hey, out on time tonight?" Alan asked, approaching Jim to say hello. "Must be a record."

Jim smiled at Alan in greeting, throwing a towel over Alan's head. "Hey, kid. I was gonna suggest joining some of us for dinner, but I think your stench might clear the dining hall."

Alan tossed back at Jim. "Nice. You're no bed of roses either, man."

A sharp nudge against Alan's shoulder brought their conversation to a grinding halt. Alan spun around to face Henry Bishop standing beside him, arms crossed and a scowl darkening his features. As the tension in room grew, the rest of the boys in the locker room paused in what they were doing to watch the impending confrontation.

"This is the soccer team's side of the locker room, Tracy," Henry stated coldly. "Why don't you go back to your side like a good little track nerd?"

Alan bristled at the condescending tone, but took a deep breath. "When did you become border patrol? I just came over to say hi to my friend."

Henry took a threatening step closer to Alan. "Didn't you hear what I said? Get lost, runt."

The tension in the room thickened. Everyone was almost afraid to breathe and break the spell that had settled over them as they watched the standoff.

Alan clenched his jaw stubbornly, but refused to move. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready. What's your problem, anyway?"

"My problem is little freshman who are trying to prove they're better than everyone else," Henry replied sharply. "What's the matter, Tracy? Not good enough for daddy? Or is it your brothers? Everyone knows that your brothers were all better than you when they were in school."

Henry's words struck a nerve deep down inside Alan. Reacting more on instinct, the teen took a step forward but was immediately stopped by a firm grip on his arm from Jim.

Henry grinned in triumph, scoffing in Alan's face. "That's what I thought. A little boy walking in his brothers' footsteps. It's about time you figured it out, Tracy; you'll never measure up to the rest of your family. You're a joke."

Glancing over his shoulder, he jerked his head towards the showers. "Come on. He's not worth it."

Alan refused to look away from Henry until long after the arrogant teen and his friends had disappeared into the showers. Jim waited until he felt the tension seep out of Alan's arm before finally releasing the younger teen.

"Forget him, Alan," Jim told him. "Bishop is bad news. He's used to being top dog, and he's worried about you knocking him down a peg. Stay away from him, okay?"

Alan looked at Jim, jaw still clenched tight in anger. His blue eyes blazed in barely suppressed rage. He felt too angry to even speak without biting someone's head off.

Jim shook his head. "Look, go and shower back at your dorm, then meet me at the dining hall. Bring Fermat with you. We can eat dinner together and you can tell me all about how that program you're writing for me is going."

Alan closed his eyes, silently counting to ten and trying to quell his anger. Opening his eyes, he felt a little calmer. Nodding wordlessly, Alan retreated to his locker for his belongings.

"Hey."

Jim's soft call brought Alan's attention back to him.

Jim came closer and gently squeezed Alan's shoulder. "We're not all like him, you know. Don't let Bishop's attitude make you second guess trying out for the team, okay? I'll invite some more guys to dinner, let you get to know them better."

Alan nodded again, still unable to speak around the knot of anger still lodged in his throat.

"Besides," Jim continued, moving back to his locker. "We need more people like you on the team. People who don't kowtow to Bishop and his mother's money."

For the first time since Henry had interrupted their conversation, Alan felt a genuine smile begin to stretch across his mouth. "I'll meet you in half an hour."

Jim shook a finger at Alan. "You do that, man. See you then."

Fermat put the finishing touches on his book report for his literature class, making a mental note to thank Jim for the advice he'd given the younger student over dinner.

Thoughts of dinner sent Fermat's mind drifting back to his friend and how upset Alan had been after his track practice that afternoon. Alan hadn't told him the full story, but he had been clearly upset by something that had happened. It had taken Fermat, Jim, and several other members of Wharton's soccer team to pull Alan out of his funk and back into his happier, mischievous self.

The door opened, and Fermat watched in amusement from his desk as Alan stumbled into their dorm room and flopped facedown onto his bed in an almost exact repeat of his own performance the night before.

"L-Long night, Alan?" he asked, smirking.

Alan groaned as if in pain. "Why? Why did I think this study group was a good idea?"

Fermat chuckled softly as Alan sat up on his bed. "I th-thought you l-l-l-enjoyed going. What h-happened?"

Alan sighed heavily, scooting back on his bed until he could lean against his headboard. "We didn't get to finish our assignment for chemistry. We got a new member tonight and had to back track over all of our notes from the year to catch him up."

Fermat raised his eyebrows. "The wh-whole year? Th-That m-m-must have taken forever!"

"Felt like it." Alan unzipped his backpack and pulled out his notebook and chemistry text. "The review was good, at least. I think it helped my block on chemical bonds, anyway, but I still need to finish the discussion notes on chapters sixteen through eighteen."

Surprise flickered across Fermat's face. "I thought th-th-that assignment w-wasn't due until T-T-T-next week?"

Alan moved to his desk and opened his notebook. "It's not, but I want to bounce a couple things off of John before I turn it in, which means I need to finish it this weekend."

Fermat nodded thoughtfully. "J-J-John's really been a b-b-big help, huh?"

A small smile broke out on Alan's face. "Yeah, it's been awesome having his help. He's a really good teacher, and I don't feel stupid when I have to ask him to explain stuff to me."

Fermat felt a slight pang of guilt at Alan's words, hoping that he had never made his friend feel that way.

A gentle chime filled the air, interrupting the silence that was just starting to fill the room. Alan glanced at his screen and answered the call, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face on the other end. "Dad!"

Jeff Tracy smiled at his youngest child. "Hey, Alan. I haven't heard from you in a while and wanted to make sure you and Fermat were doing okay. I'm not calling too late, am I?"

Alan shook his head. "Nah, I just got in."

Jeff's smile faltered in confusion. "Just now? Kind of late, isn't it?"

Alan shrugged. "I got caught up with a bunch of the guys and only just got away. I'm going to finish up some more of my homework before turning in tonight."

His father's smile was fading more with each passing second. "Alan, I thought we've been over this. Hanging out with friends is all right as long as you put schoolwork first. Staying out this late and waiting until now to do your homework was not the best choice to make."

Alan frowned in confusion. "But Dad, I-."

"No shortcuts, Alan," Jeff reminded him. "I was hoping to see a little more maturity from you."

His father's words stung. Alan clamped his mouth shut, stunned speechless.

"I won't keep you from your homework, Sprout," Jeff continued, oblivious to his son's distress. "I'll call back on Sunday to see how you're doing."

"Yes, sir," Alan managed to grind out. "Good night."

"Good night Alan."

Alan stared numbly at the black screen. Fermat watched his friend, trying to find the words to ease the hurt that the older man had unwittingly caused.

"T-T-Tell him on Sunday, Alan," the younger student finally said. "H-He'll understand once y-you e-e-explain it to him."

Alan shook himself out of his daze and curled over his chemistry notes. "It's fine, Fermat. No big deal."

"B-But A-A-Alan-."

"It's fine." Alan pulled out his iPod and put his earbuds in, switching his music on. Fermat sighed, defeated, as his best friend shut the world out.

End Chapter Two

A/N: I tried to find information out about the boys and ended up just going with my own ideas. For the purposes of this story, all 5 Tracy boys attended Wharton Academy.