Chapter 1
Fletcher grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast and ate it hurriedly, checking the clock every couple of seconds. He had missed the bus before and it was a long walk, his parents had already left for work. He put his dishes in the sink, grabbed his bag and ran out the door, making sure to lock it behind him. He raced to the bus-stop.
Standing on the corner, Fletcher checked his watch, wait no, he didn't wear a watch, why would he check that… so distracted… His thoughts wandered back to his morning in the shower. He knew it was wrong, boys liked girls, plain and simple. He couldn't be gay, no; he didn't want to be different, not again. It was already hard enough at that school full of older kids…
He didn't buy into the religious side of it though. He wasn't very religious at all really. But, he thought if there was a God, then he wasn't likely to single out a group of people for his divine hatred. No, Fletcher didn't even mind gay people at all; his parents had lots of gay friends… HE just didn't want to be gay…
He bus came around the corner with a screech of tires that made you want to claw at your ears. Fletcher was jolted out of his daze. The bus opened its doors with a hydraulic hiss, he climbed up the stairs. He was the first one on the bus, he always was, first stop and all. He took a seat next to the emergency exit window, you could never be too careful…
Fletcher barely noticed as other students get on the bus, he just sat there and stared out the window, lost in thought. He pulled his bag into his lap as a large boy dropped into the seat next to him, all the others were full. The boy was engaged in a loud conversation with his friend across the aisle.
"Yeah, he's a fricken' fag," said the large boy to his friend, Fletcher snapped his eyes open. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want people using him as an insult, hating him without even knowing him. He popped open a tube of paint and slipped it into the boys bag.
SCHOOL
Fletcher made a quick stop at his locker then headed on to the A.N.T. Farm. Chyna and Olive were already there, chatting animatedly.
"Hey, Fletcher, what's up?", called Chyna as he entered the room.
"What? Oh! Oh, nothing…", he replied, glancing up from his feet.
"Are you okay? You seem a little off…".
"Me? Nooo! Why would you say that?"
"Okay…? Never mind, then..?"
The day passed uneventfully, Chyna sang some songs, Olive managed to annoy everyone, but Fletcher… HE couldn't paint. Nothing inspired him, not a single idea, nothing.
His misery was complete, he would never fit in and now the only thing that he had, his art, he couldn't even do that!
"Fletcher, are you okay?", asked Gibson, walking towards him, "You haven't painted a thing all day… r sculpted, or sketched or drawn… Hey! There are lots of art things to do!" Gibson wandered off, still listing things.
Fletcher felt overwhelmed, tears built up in his eyes. He raced out of the room, running right into the bathroom and closing himself in a stall. He sat in there, sobbing quietly; it felt good to let it out.
"Hey, are you okay?", asked a quiet voice, it was a nice voice, so calm and soft. Fletcher saw a pair of bright green tennis shoes right outside his stall.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he said, wiping his nose.
"All right, just makin' sure, you hold on there."
"Yeah, thanks…"
The green shoes walked off and Fletcher heard the bathroom door close. He came out of the stall and washed his face before heading back to the A.N.T. Farm, where it looked like Gibson was introducing a new A.N.T.
"Everyone, this is Connor, he's gonna be joining us in the A.N.T. program!"
Fletcher was blown away. The boy was perfect. HE seemed to be around Fletcher's age and size, he was thin, but clearly well built. His light brown hair was cut choppy and his eyes were a piercing green. Fletcher was head over heels. And, he was wearing a pair of bright green tennis shoes.
