Triple Threat

9. What Is This Feeling, So Sudden and New?

"So how was the dinner?"

"Hm?" Beth looked up from her cell phone, eyes unfocused and expression slightly dazed. "What?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Dinner with the Führer?" he said, stabbing his spoon at her and nearly flicking ice cream into her eye. "Last night? Or did you forget?"

"It was fine," Beth murmured absently, her gaze straying back to her cell phone again. Her sundae – triple chocolate fudge with extra cherries – went untouched, melting sadly into a sort of chocolate landslide. The cherries looked rather in danger of being suffocated. Chase rescued one and popped it into his mouth.

"Distracted, much? Want me to go away?"

"Uh, no…sorry." Beth flipped her cell phone shut and pocketed it, looking slightly sheepish. "Luna keeps texting me about prom planning, and she starts spamming my inbox if I don't text her back within ten minutes. I promise, I'm not trying to ignore you."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you pouting at me?"

"Not at all. My lower lip just happened to slip out. It'll never happen again."

"Right…" Finally picking up her spoon, Beth took a bite of her half-melted ice cream.

"So dinner was just 'fine'?" Chase prodded. Beth sighed.

"Like I said, yes, it was fine. Other than the fact that my dad kept glaring at Gill all night…" She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. "So much ridiculousness, man," she grumbled. "Every time I make a friend of the opposite gender, my dad scares them off."

"Because all men are horny bastards secretly itching to claim his innocent daughter's virginity," Chase deadpanned. Beth wrinkled her nose in distaste and dropped her spoon into her bowl.

"Don't say it like that. 'Itching' sounds so gross."

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Chase punctuated this question with a stab of his spoon in Beth's general direction. The girl gently tilted the spoon back down towards Chase's plate, a wary look stealing over her face.

"Yes, yes, you're right. Now stop pointing that thing at me."

"Poor you. At this rate, you'll be a virgin for the rest of your life. Or at least, for the rest of your dad's life."

"It's not my fault my dad's a paranoid freak around boys!" Beth threw her hands into the air, looking pained. "I mean, he never acted like this when Jon brought his girlfriends home to dinner – "

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Not even with 'Raven'?" he questioned drily, fingers coming up for very pointed air-quotes. Beth's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Who?"

"You know, that weird, witchy Goth chick that your brother dated during his junior year? I stepped on her boots by accident once and she said she was going to turn me into a newt." He rolled his eyes. "What a crock. It's been years, and I haven't seen even one speck of newtiness."

"Oh! You mean Rachel?"

"That's her name?"

"You didn't really think her name was Raven, did you?"

"Well, I only met her that one time, and no one corrected her when she introduced herself to me as Raven, so you can't really blame me, can you?"

"I guess not…Anyway, Jon and Rachel didn't last long enough for her to meet Mom and Dad. They kind of broke up after one and a half weeks of dating."

"Why's that?"

"Uh…something about them not connecting, I think. I bet Jon was just too lazy to get all dark and depressed about his life, the way Rachel was." Beth waved a hand impatiently. "Either way, Jon's always dated weird girls, and Dad never got worked up about it. But the moment I ask a guy over for dinner – a perfectly nice, straight-A student…and with his father no less! – all of a sudden it's like I'm Juliet announcing my intentions to run off with a Montague!"

Chase blinked. "Okay, you lost me at the Shakespeare reference. And calm down, geez. People are starting to stare."

"Okay, okay..." Beth took a deep breath and folded her hands demurely in her lap. It was a strange picture of serenity, considering the way she had been ranting only a moment before. "I'm calm."

"Sure you are."

"Sorry…my dad just pisses me off sometimes." Beth groaned and fidgeted with her hair. "Change of subject! How was your night?"

"Eventful," Chase said in flat tones. "I finished all of my homework ahead of time, watched Miles make and remake his bed five times within three hours, and fell asleep at ten."

"Wow. That sounds…"

"Exciting? Yeah, it was. So exciting that I could hardly stand it."

"Maybe we should do something next weekend," Beth suggested, a faint smile tilting her lips as she took a thoughtful bite of ice cream. "You know, change up your schedule a little bit."

"Oh, I don't know." Chase pretended to look conflicted at this. "I'd have to cancel a date to do that, and I'm not sure how my wall would take it…"

"Hush," Beth giggled. "Anyway, I started thinking after last night that I need to get out more."

"You only just realized that?"

"You're one to talk…"

"Hey, I don't have a car. What I do have is a strict eleven o'clock curfew. Meaning that if I'm not inside the orphanage doors by eleven o'clock PM sharp, no one's letting me in."

Beth winced. "Okay, bad example. The point is, I was talking to Gill – "

"Speaking of people who need to get out more…"

"Chase."

"What? It's true."

"Yes, but…anyway. We were talking about how we're teenagers, and we should get out while we're young. Be degenerate teenage rebels, you know."

"Degenerate teenage rebels. Did he say that, or did you?"

"Chase…"

"Oh wait, that was a stupid question. Of course you were the one who said it." Chase caught the annoyed look on Beth's face and grinned widely at her. "What, was I interrupting? So sorry. Do go on."

"My point," Beth said with heavy emphasis, "is that we should go out more often with our friends. I was thinking that maybe we could catch a movie this Friday."

Chase looked suspiciously at her. "Who's 'we'?"

"You, me, Renee and Toby – "

"Uh-oh. This isn't a double date, is it?"

"No. If you'd just let me finish – "

"Because, you know, you're a great friend and all, but I don't know if I'm ready for a serious relationship yet…"

"Chase! Will you just shut up and let me talk?"

"You're taking so long to get to the point!"

"That's because you keep interrupting!"

"Talk faster then!"

"I was thinking of inviting some other people also," Beth said in a rush, still glaring a little. "Maybe some friends from Student Council – "

"By that, you mean the Führer."

"Well, yeah – "

"The kid's not a charity case, Beth. He doesn't need you to create his social life for him."

Beth gave him a dirty look. "What did I say about interrupting again?"

Chase ignored her. "Why are you trying to make friends for the Führer? If he wanted people to hang out with, he'd find them himself. Seems to me that he's perfectly fine with being by himself."

Beth sighed, a heavy gust of exasperation. "Gill's a nice guy once you get to know him, Chase. I think he does want friends, and he does know how to find them. He just needs…you know…a little push."

"Off a cliff."

"Chase. Would it really kill you just to hang out with him for one evening?"

"Depends on what context it's in," Chase said, his tone dry. Beth frowned and dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clang.

"Fine. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Whoa, hey, I never said I didn't want to."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't come if you're going to be so antagonistic," Beth said, her tone rather sharp. "Honestly, what did Gill ever do to you?"

"Nothing." Beth gave him a disbelieving look; Chase shrugged. "What, I'm not allowed to dislike someone based on first impressions?"

"That's called prejudice, Chase. We had an assembly on it last year."

"I remember. One of the best naps I ever had." He held up a hand as Beth opened her mouth to argue. "You harping on it isn't going to change my mind. But I can pretend to be civil for one night."

Beth seemed to consider this – particularly Chase's use of the word pretend – then sighed. "I suppose that's as good as it's ever going to get. Alright, we'll plan for next weekend and I'll let you know?"

"Sounds fabulous," Chase said with a flamboyant accent, flicking his hair ostentatiously. Several children at a nearby booth stared, and Beth sighed.

"Honestly, I can't take you anywhere."

"Good afternoon, class." Ms. Saunders clasped her hands together and spoke in her slow, slightly dreamy voice. "Today, we shall commence work on your semester-long project – your portraits. I expect you all remember your partner assignments?"

A murmur of assent rippled throughout the room, some voices sounding more disgruntled than others. Ms. Saunders, oblivious as always to any trace of negativity (or "bad vibes" as she so groovily called them), beamed.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Please, all of you, take the next five minutes to find your partner. Sit down, introduce yourselves, then – without giving each other any further personal details – draw your first portrait of your partner. This does not have to go into your final portfolio, but I often find that the way that first impressions manifest themselves in portraiture is quite fascinating, and I expect that many of you will feel the same way!"

"Crazy old bat," someone mumbled behind Gill.

"Drawing strangers is always very different from drawing friends – and I expect that many of you will be great friends by the end of this project. So please, find your partners, and begin making art!"

The room burst into noise and activity as students got up and began craning their necks about the room, calling to one another and shoving chairs to other tables. Gill stood and glanced around for Chase Moretti; he spotted the distinctive head of messy strawberry-blonde hair near the back of the classroom. The other boy was still half-slouched in his chair, rummaging around in his bag for his sketchpad and pencils, so Gill made his way over. He had to dodge an overenthusiastic Luke Kimura in the process. "Yo!" the blue-haired teen practically bellowed at his partner, who tried to cover his wince with a strained smile. "I'm Luke Kimura, EXTREMESTER and architect in training!"

"No personal details!" Ms. Saunders sang out, almost as loudly as Luke. Chase looked up at Gill and gave a slight grimace.

"It's crazy loud in here," he said. Gill nodded in agreement. Then, not quite knowing what else to do, he held out a hand.

"Hi. I'm Gill."

Chase's eyebrows went up and he gave a slightly wry smile before shaking Gill's hand. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Chase."

"This isn't the first time we've met, is it?"

"Well, we've been in the same art class since freshman year," Chase said, not without a slight trace of sarcasm. "So no, it isn't."

His tone held more irritation than the question had warranted; puzzled, Gill opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as Ms. Saunders swooped down upon them, bringing with her a powerful whiff of the incense that she liked to burn in her office.

"Now now, no chatting!" she admonished them. "Get to work, boys – some of your classmates have already started! Don't think too much! Begin drawing your first impressions!"

As she floated off to quiet Luke, who looked like he was about to talk his partner's ear off, Gill sat down across from Chase and pulled out his own sketchpad. "Right," the other boy said, rolling his eyes at Ms. Saunders' back. "Less thinking, more sketching." His gaze roved quickly over Gill's face, taking in the details; with his lips pressed together in concentration, Chase began to draw. Taking advantage of his partner's inattention, Gill took his time, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to construct a proper visual impression of Chase in his mind.

He didn't know Chase well at all. Gill knew that he was friends with Beth – he'd encountered them talking in the hallways – but that didn't say much, since Beth was friendly with just about everyone. In class, Chase was usually quiet, sitting with his tall frame slightly slouched in his seat and his eyes half-lidded as he took notes. The few times that Gill had heard him speak, Chase had always sounded sarcastic and even somewhat impatient, as if the conversation was moving too slowly for his liking.

His pencil began to move slowly, sketching out the outlines of Chase's face. For a boy, Chase had remarkably soft features – his rounded cheeks, high forehead, and gently pointed chin all served to make him look far younger than he actually was. Gill paused and furrowed his brow. What expression should he give Chase? The other teen wore a frown more often than not, as though thinking with deep dissatisfaction about something. The only times he relaxed the frown were to smirk and make some cynical comment.

No, that's not quite true. His memory sparked – he'd had a brief conversation with Chase just the other day, before speaking to Beth. That was the only time he'd seen Chase relax his sardonic, mocking façade for a lighter, more teasing smile. But the expression was totally alien to Gill; he couldn't recall it clearly enough. And anyway…Ms. Saunders had told them to sketch their first impressions. He settled on his original idea – Chase frowning. It was easy, since the other boy was positively scowling as he erased something on his paper. Gill began sketching again.

Art had always been his favorite class. It wasn't a fact that most people were aware of – Gill's businesslike attitude seemed to indicate an interest in something more fixed, like math or science – and Gill wasn't particularly inclined to correct them, but he'd enjoyed art since he was young. He was quite good at it too, with a keen eye for color and proportion.

Drawing also reminded him of his mother – not that he would ever admit that to anyone, not even his father. His mother had been artistic in what seemed like every conceivable way, excelling in dance and music as well. Gill's first art lessons had been under her gentle tutelage, her long and graceful hand holding his small and clumsy one as she showed him the proper proportions for a person's face. You must be more careful with the nose, he remembered her saying, her laughter soft and without malice as she looked at Gill's attempted portrait of Hamilton. You've given your father such a terrifying beak of a nose – shall we correct it, before he sees it and sulks for the entire evening?

Gill's pencil moved with quick, sure strokes, mapping out the point of Chase's nose. The portrait was beginning to take real shape now, Chase's wide-set and slightly annoyed eyes gazing out over frowning lips. Gill glanced up and was startled to see the real-life version, mirroring that same expression and staring right back at him. He blinked, but Chase didn't break eye contact. His gaze wasn't the observing look of an artist anymore; now it was appraising, almost…challenging, though what for, Gill had no idea.

Choosing to ignore the belligerent gaze, Gill looked back down at his drawing and added more shading to Chase's hair. He could tell already that Chase's hair would be the most exasperating part of the portrait project – it stuck off in fifty different directions, full of untamed cowlicks. He looked up again to get a better look at Chase's hair…and found him still staring.

There was something familiar about the stare, but Gill couldn't quite put his finger on it. Avoiding looking directly into Chase's eyes, Gill took in the disheveled shock of hair and made a few adjustments on his paper. He was finding it very difficult to continue ignoring Chase's gaze, and was finally forced to acknowledge it when he could no longer keep pretending to edit the portrait. "What?" he said, trying not to snap.

Chase blinked, and seemed to realize how aggressively he had been staring. "…Nothing," he muttered, and bent his head back to his paper. Gill fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Aah, lovely work as always, Gill," said a voice from just over his shoulder, making him jump. Ms. Saunders leaned forward and nodded approvingly at the portrait of Chase. "It certainly looks just like him – and what an expression! What made you decide to draw him so – " She leaned closer so that Chase wouldn't hear them " – belligerent-looking?"

Belligerent? Gill looked down and realized that at some point, he'd drawn Chase to look positively pugilistic. He was surprised; he'd only meant to make him look sarcastic, possibly dissatisfied.

"Um…it was just the expression he had at the time," he said quietly, noticing that Chase was looking at them somewhat suspiciously. Ms. Saunders looked at Chase, then back to Gill.

"Well, I would be interested in hearing what you said to inspire such an expression," she said mildly. "Carry on." She raised her voice to the rest of the class. "Ten minutes, now – and don't let your partners see your portraits! We shall do sharing and critique next class, but for now, keep your impressions a secret!"

Gill winced a little and looked back at the portrait, wondering whether he should edit Chase's expression at all. It's fine, he told himself. He really was making that expression.

It hit him then, why Chase's stare was so familiar. It was the same look that Mr. O'Keefe had been giving him all through dinner two nights ago.

OH MY GOD it has been so long since I updated this. I shan't bore you all with tedious author's notes – but I do want to say thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who's still reading, and who kept up hope that one day I would return. I'm sorry, but my life has been absolute hectic hell for the past two years (I am not kidding) and I kind of had to stop playing Harvest Moon, but hopefully I can climb back onto the fanfiction bandwagon and keep going!

Right…so Chase is starting to feel the first pangs of jealousy, and is taking them out on poor bewildered Gill. Teehee…the wheels of fate are turning…

Title is from "What Is This Feeling" from the always wonderful musical "Wicked."