A/N: WOW. Thank you so much, everybody who read and gave such great feedback! The last chapter got like, 7 reviews, I think! :D Hey, don't laugh… I'm new here, people!— and this story has passed 60 reviews overall?—that is just an insanely high sounding number to me. I mean, I'm the rookie fanfic writer here, and that so many of you awesome, veteran writers and busy readers would take the time… gosharooney, that just blows my mind.

Disclaimer: What? BTR isn't mine?

Face Value

Chapter 12: The Morning After

When morning came, it felt like eons had passed. The horrendous night before now seemed like only a distant dream. James thought to himself maybe it had been just that, as the first few rays of yellow, California sunlight filtered through the window blinds; casting wide, sunny stripes across his rumpled comforter.

He rolled over toward the nightstand, blinking at the green glowing numbers on the digital clock.

6:51AM—and no one had woken him up yet?

He kicked off the covers and threw his legs over the side of the bed, looking to Carlos' side of the room. His roommate's dinosaur sheets were in a tangled mess, but there was no Carlos to be found.

Am I the last one up?...

How could they forget to wake me up?

Hair. That's the only thing James could think of. He wasn't going to have time to fix his hair. Why? Because nobody—not Mama Knight, not Katie, not any of his stupid friends—had bothered to wake him up on time!

Incensed anger—blind, raging panic shot through him like a current, only to dissipate a half second later.

When he realized the quiet.

By this time, any typical weekday, the apartment would be all a-buzz; pans and dishes clattering in the kitchen, the morning news report droning in the background, the dull roar of the shower, impatient fists banging on the bathroom door…

How long did I sleep? Is anyone else even here?

James sat on the edge of his bed, listening for any sound of life in the other rooms of the apartment. He let his feet dangle just above the floor, toes grazing the cool laminate below them and he held his breath, focusing his ears.

Finally, he could make out the hum of faint voices in the kitchen. Yes, they were still here. He rose from the warmth of his sheets, and let his bare feet press flat against the chilly wood grain, cautiously walking towards the hushed sound.

What the heck is going on?

The conversation seemed to quiet even more as he crept down the hall, but as he approached, the shift in tone was unmistakable.

Five pairs of eyes fell on him as he stepped into the great room. The second they met his, James turned red; breaking contact. He quickly ducked his head, striding over to the long table to take the last empty seat.

His surrogate family smiled cheerily then and carried on with their breakfast, as if nothing were wrong. He knew they were just trying to be helpful, but the overt niceties were far worse than any blatant comment they could have possibly made. Even Carlos seemed to hold his tongue this morning.

James sat by Katie, pushing around the bowl of oatmeal Mrs. Knight dropped in front of him. Third day this week. Logan got up from the table and set his dishes in the sink, looking over at him.

"Shower's open if you want first," The first real words anyone had spoken since he'd walked into the room. It was a huge sacrifice. James could take forever getting ready.

James prodded at the oatmeal, barely looking up at Logan. "No thank'ths. You can go fir'th." He answered monotonously.

"Aren't you excited, James?" Carlos crunched, bursting to talk now that Logan had broken the metaphoric ice. "It's the last day of school before the weekend!"

School.

Now that Carlos had brought it up, James wasn't so sure. How could he possibly bear it? The events of the day before flashed across his mind: All the hateful jeers, the cutting glances, the laughter…the fight

The mere thought of going back to school now caused his breath to hitch in panic and his insides to clench up in knots. He dropped the spoon, shoving the sticky oatmeal away.

Kendall nodded toward the untouched bowl, "Aren't you gonna eat? You'll get hungry at school."

"No—" James clipped. He leaned forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around his middle, and Kendall knitted his brow, staring at him curiously. "I-I don't think I'm gonna go today." James grimaced uneasily. He ran a hand across his abdomen, rubbing his belly a moment, then conceded weakly,

"…My th'omach's upset-"

"You're probably still tired; you didn't get much rest last night." Mrs. Knight deduced, jogging over to feel his forehead. "Why don't you go lay down on the couch, I'll bring you some ginger ale."

James slunk over to the couch as the rest of the boys went to get ready. A few minutes later they had showered and dressed, then came back into the living room to gather their things.

"Feel better, James" Kendall scooped up his backpack, waving as he and Carlos left the apartment.

Logan turned back, before following them out. "I'll get your homework for you," he replied, gently closing the door behind him.

Then Mrs. Knight skipped through, toting a jacket and her daughter's little pink backpack. She looked over at James as she slid the jacket on the girl.

"I'm gonna walk Katie down now," She explained, "You sip on that, and I'll be right back. I have my cell phone if you need me."

James took another cautious sip of the fizzy ginger ale, before setting the cup down on the glass coffee table. He nodded at Mrs. Knight, slowly lying back down. Katie walked over to the orange sofa, giving a quick hug to her sometimes over-protective 'brother', and strapped on her backpack. James tried to smile at her as she and Mrs. Knight walked out the door.


A couple of hours later, Mrs. Knight stood ironing in the kitchen. James had been fine. He'd even eaten a little cup of chicken n' stars for her. Obviously, he wasn't that sick; but still, the way he'd moped around all morning worried her. Her motherly instinct told her something else was bothering him. Not just a stomachache or touchy teeth. But something. She just wasn't sure what.

She wished he would open up, so she could help him. But she knew that sort of thing was particularly hard for James. He wasn't used to it. The constant shuffle between two parents who hate each other could do that to a child. Not that the Diamonds were necessarily horrible parents, they were just preoccupied. With work, their reputations, making a life. Thank God James had such close friends in Kendall, Carlos, and Logan growing up. The other boys' parents were nothing short of a Godsend too, the Garcias and the Mitchells were always willing to step in and help, whenever needed; whatever was needed.

She wondered if something had happened at school yesterday. He'd left so positive that morning, but then this morning he'd acted so queasy at the mere mention of it. And then what in the world had he dreamed last night? Carlos might have his concerns about the boogey man, but James had never been one prone to nightmares. She couldn't recall ever seeing the boy so…petrified. Still, as much as it killed her, she decided not to pry. James would tell her if he needed to.

Right now, there was the ironing to tend to. A few more quick passes and the remaining pieces were stacked into the basket, pressed to perfection and ready for re-distribution.

Little puffs of steam hissed out of the iron as she set the device upright, unplugging it to cool on the collapsible board. Then she scooped up her finished work, glowing with a satisfied smile, and swiveled out of the kitchen.

"Look what I have, James," she sing-songed, waltzing into the living room, laundry basket on her hip. The soft scent of detergent and fabric softener met James' nose as she set the white plastic basket on the coffee table, pulling out a familiar piece of clothing. She held the white t-shirt up, dangling it in front of him while he stayed in his slumped position on the couch. "I washed your favorite shirt," she smiled, "Here, you wanna put it on?" She folded it loosely, draping it over the arm of the sofa. He could feel the warmth radiating from the shirt, fresh from the dryer. He looked at the garment beside him and sighed.

"Thank'ths Mama Knight," he muttered, chin in hand. His lashes twitched slightly, eyes fluttering towards the floor. "…but I don't really feel like it."

"No?" She raised her brows in surprise, seeming a little disappointed as she tried to catch his gaze. "Are you sure?" she asked, teasingly, "You never know, it might just make you feel better."

He got up then, slowly wandering over to the dome hockey table in the center of the room. He gave one of the knobs a rough turn, sending the men on the dowel rod spinning. He stared at them morosely through the curved dome, watching as the cut-out figures whirled to a gradual stop. He laid his hand atop the clear plastic, still peering into the mini arena as he studied the rows of tiny, colorful players; the boxy-shaped toy goals on either end of their flat, plasticine-like playing surface; the polka-dotted representation of innumerable stadium fans pasted around the edges. James shrugged.

"It's jus'th not a lucky v-neck kinda day." He answered flatly, hazel eyes still far away, lost inside the dome.


A bit filler-ish, but it's relevant to chapters to come. You'll see! ;) Foreshadowing, anybody?

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