Chapter 50


The newly-declared open season on harassing John LaFleur began its fourth day on December 10th, and as far as John himself could tell, enthusiasm for going after him hadn't faded a bit. The latest incident was someone coming up and mashing a wad of chewed gum into the back of his head in the halls; John hadn't been able to whirl around fast enough to see who it was.

John was no longer using his assigned locker; he'd taken to simply carrying all the books he needed for the entire day with him in his backpack instead. Given the substantial weight of so many textbooks and notebooks, John had a moment of grim humor when he realised that carrying it all around was actually a pretty good workout. He had also shifted to sitting in the back of each class, to avoid being constantly hit by a barrage of spitballs.

Henry and Mark had still not given him so much as a cross look, which John found unexpectedly aggravating. All of this, every bit of it, was their fault, and yet they weren't bothering to look at him, not even giving him a gloating smirk or sneer.

Cindy came up to him in the halls, and from the moment she saw the gum stuck in John's blond hair insisted on going down to the nurse's office. "Look," she said, when John looked uncomfortable about it, "They can get some ice and freeze the gum solid, then cut off just a bit of your hair. Otherwise it'll be a big chunk of it, John."

He couldn't argue with that. Cindy knew as well as anybody how much John liked his hair, and the less of it got cut off because of this the better.

As they walked, Cindy's gaze swept from side to side, her expression saying she'd likely clobber anyone who said one word to John. While a part of him was embarrassed, he was also touched by this sign of caring from the girl that he was now sure he'd fallen in love with. Gently, John took her hand and squeezed it, and she looked at him. They smiled at each other.

XX

Julie had an easy time through her 1st and 2nd Hour classes today, and was having no difficulty getting ready for 3rd. In fact, things seemed to be going quite smoothly; she'd gotten her second wind with Mark's acceptance and even encouragement of her decision. She had already ordered a stack of books on pregnancy and childcare, and planned to study them thoroughly when they arrived- taking notes, if necessary. It would be a little like being back in college, only this was something different. Something much more important. She was having her and Mark's child. Their child. Nothing could have been more important than that.

Henry and Mark took their time as they made their way to their table in the cafeteria, passing by many others along the way. They greeted a variety of students, mostly younger ones, who they otherwise paid little attention to. They were dishing out rewards for the day, as merely being addressed by one or both of Chamberlain High School's kings really did have powerful social implications. If they talked to you, even just a word, it meant they considered you worth noticing.

"Hey, Kenny," Henry called out to a pale kid wearing an orange Under Armour hoodie and glasses. "How's it going, man?"

"Vic, what's up?" Mark said, nodding to a skinny sophomore with alert, darting eyes.

"Trent," Henry said with a grin as they passed a kid coming out of the lunch line, "Looking good, dude." Trent Steyr, a friend of Martin Brodinsky's who spent most of his time caring for his appearance and getting his parents to buy him more expensive clothes, stopped in his tracks and stared, then grinned back when his brain kicked back in. "Thanks," he said, nodding. "I think so, too."

On it went, the friendly greetings and compliments to kids Henry and Mark hardly ever said a word to normally. Nothing was said directly, but this favourable attention was given to those who had been especially effective or inventive in tormenting John LaFleur. Peter Tremont, the sophomore basketball player who'd stuck the gum in John's hair, was easily the best-rewarded of all- he got to sit at Henry and Mark's table for the day. He hardly ever said anything, staring around, wide-eyed, as if unable to believe this was actually happening. But he dug in when Henry and Mark each handed him a lunch tray they'd 'acquired', more than smart enough not to ask too many questions.

Martin Brodinsky, a rising socialite in the 10th grade class, actually knew or was friends with a remarkable number of the boys Henry and Mark were complimenting today. He had an enormous number of friends for a sophomore, ranging from close friends to those who were practically just guys he'd met at somebody's party. But Martin had connections, and it was him and some guys he knew that took care of John's locker so nicely, both times. One of the guys helping out with a lot of the footwork in Martin's schemes was Carter Stevens, eager both to please Henry and Mark and for revenge against John personally. Both of them had at least earned invitations to the party coming up this Saturday, if not more.

It went without saying that girls, whether they had helped go after John or his slut girlfriend or not, were ignored. Girls were there for boys to fuck. That was it. Only those growing up to be men were worth noticing.

Henry and Mark were enjoying it immensely, watching John be tormented, seeing so much of the school work to do their will. Having so many eagerly leap to do their bidding gave the brothers a wonderful sense of power and control, and Henry said with a smile, "I imagine it's gonna be a lot like this in the Marines, with soldiers under our command. A lot like this."

Mark nodded in agreement, then gave his brother a grin. "You can't wait, can you?"

The blond giant laughed. "Yeah, you're right. But this is pretty good for now."

Across the table, Anthony Summers- who officially knew nothing about John being harassed, and would say just that, "I don't know anything about that", if you asked him- was trying to buck up a bruised and tired Chris, being encouraging and even buying him a second lunch tray.

"I fell asleep in my cereal this morning," Chris said wearily, dark circles under his eyes. "Jesus Christ, man. My Mom didn't like that."

"Look, just think about it a second, man," Anthony said. "It's Thursday. You've lasted this long, haven't you? You got tomorrow, dude, and that's it. You can go home and sleep all you want."

Chris was pushing the food on his tray around, staring blankly at it.

The dark-haired teen got a grin on his handsome face, and he gave Chris a jab in the shoulder. "I hear you'll probably get invited to the party this weekend," he said, then paused. "Unless… you're gonna be too tired…"

"Not a fucking chance," Chris said flatly, and Anthony laughed. "See, man, that's it. There you go." He looked at Chris for a few moments.

"Just focus on something good, man. No matter what, don't let this get to you. It's one week, not forever. Tryouts'll be over before you know it, you'll be a certified jock. One of us. Lemme tell you, Chris- you make it through today and Friday, and make the team… well." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "You, me, Jason, the three of us- on Saturday, we are gonna get fucked up."

Chris laughed, finding he was genuinely cheered by that. He'd have as much party as he could handle waiting for him this weekend, Nicole was hinting at some plans he very much liked- all he needed to do was make the team. It didn't make the physical pain and constant sleep deprivation go away, but it helped knowing it wasn't much longer and good things lay ahead if he succeeded. Chris focused on that, knowing he'd rather not think too hard about the likely consequences of failure. Bullying was… very accepted around here.

Not that he knew anything about that.

Jason, despite sitting close by, had little to say during lunch. He was still sullen and angry, and Anthony quickly gave up trying to rouse him out of it. He did, however, turn to Chris at one point towards the end of lunch, looking him in the eyes. "You're doing good, man," Jason grunted, and that was it. He said nothing else.

Hearing that confirmation that he was, indeed, doing well at tryouts was a great relief to the redhead. Though he didn't often show up at the pool much this week, Jason had given Chris free access to both it and the hot tub, just as long as Chris was out of there before midnight and didn't fuck his girlfriend in there without asking first. Soaking in the hot tub after another punishing day on the ice was a great help, and that Jason had simply made it official after Chris invited himself over the first time only reinforced the redhead's belief that Jason Morgan was one of his best friends.

XX

John was eating his corn dog nuggets, casually keeping an eye up for anyone trying to throw food at him- it hadn't happened yet, but there was always a first time- when he noticed somebody next to him. Small and slight, the blond freshman had come up beside him without even being noticed by Cindy or Scott, both of whom sat across from him.

Quickly turning to look directly at the intruder, sure he was wielding another piece of gum or something similarly unpleasant, John was surprised to notice he recognized the other boy. It was the poor kid whose inexpensive cell phone had been destroyed by Henry Evans. John still felt good about getting him that replacement, and that memory helped him relax.

"What's up?" John asked, shifting his features and trying to look friendlier.

The freshman looked painfully nervous; he kept looking around self-consciously, as if worried someone was watching, or could be any second. Finally he looked back at John. "I-there's two sophomores planning on going out and keying your car today," he blurted. "I heard 'em say they were gonna do it at lunch."

"And why should we believe that?" Scott asked, his voice filled with skepticism. "So John's seat'll be covered in glue when he gets back?"

"I'm serious," the freshman said, turning a shade paler. He turned to John. "Look, man, I'm- I gotta go."

"Hey, hey, hang on," John said suddenly, holding up a hand. "Come and sit with us for a minute, man. Come on, have a seat." He gestured to an empty chair near him, then changed his mind. Standing up, he gestured to his own.

The blond freshman shook his head. "I can't," he said, but John gave him a gentle push on he shoulders, sitting him down. "Talk to Scott, okay? Just wait for me to get back."

"Okay," the boy said, still looking uneasy.

"I'm gonna go check my car," John said to the others. "I'll be right back."

"John," Cindy said, "Be careful, all right?"

"Always," John replied, flashing her a smile.

XX

Two boys were out there, sure enough, jacket collars up as they bent over a black 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass, the only one in the parking lot. John had walked fast, resisting the urge to break into a run the whole time. His heart-rate jumped when he saw the boys, and they did look to be sophomores. They were looking at his car with very keen interest, indeed, and so hadn't seen him as John closed in from fifty feet.

"Come on, dude," the one boy was saying, "Just dig along the side of the fuckin' car, make it simple."

"I dunno, man," the other boy shrugged, "I wanna make it nice for 'im. Give the little bitch the deluxe package. How 'bout we do F-A-G-"

"Hey!" John barked, striding rapidly towards them. "Hey! You guys need some help?"

Both kids looked up, then, and the one with the messy dark hair recognized him first. "Aw, shit," he said, "It's him!"

"Fuck," the other boy said, disappointedly shoving his keys back in his pocket.

"We weren't doing anything you need to worry about!" the dark-haired boy called back to John.

"I bet you weren't," John said, and by then he had nearly reached them. Before he could stop himself, he shot his hands out and shoved the dark-haired sophomore, who fell against the Olds and swore, while the other started backing up.

"Fuck you! Fucking faggot!" the first kid spat, and John grabbed him and slammed him against the black 442.

"I was banging cheerleaders when you pussies were starting middle school!" John shouted into the kid's face. "Whatever you weigh, I can bench it! And you think about this, too, asshole; Jason Morgan couldn't beat me, and he's one of the strongest guys in this school. What chance do you have?"

The dark-haired boy stared at him silently, as did his friend nearby. They clearly hadn't expected this. Not at all. When John felt the point had been made, he half-turned and threw the dark-haired sophomore at his friend. "Get lost, assholes!" John shouted at them. "If I find you or anybody else trying to fuck with my car again, I'm calling the cops. Beat it!"

They beat it.

XX

When John got back inside, he shook the kid's hand the moment he got back to his table.

"Thanks, man," he said, smiling gratefully. "You really helped me out. I love that car."

The boy smiled modestly. "Glad I could help."

"Why'd you do it?" John asked, genuinely curious. "You took a risk telling me. You gotta know how much this school hates me now."

"I don't hate you," the freshman answered. He took something out of his pocket, showing it to John under the table before putting it away again. It was the new, top-of-the-line phone John had bought him.

"Hey, listen, man," John said, "How about sitting with us from now on?"

"I…well…" the boy trailed off, looking uncertain. "I don't know. I- I'm not exactly the type you'd want sitting with you."

John had a hunch of what it was just then, why the freshman had been so anxious and still was. It wasn't just that he was taking a risk, stepping up and talking to John LaFleur in the cafeteria, where so many people could see. John was a prime target right now, and anyone associated with him was running the risk of becoming a target too.

But the real reason was something else. This boy was poor. And John, and everyone else sitting with him, was not. Far from it in several cases. John didn't even know what that gorgeous black 442 convertible had cost; he'd just come outside, eyes closed, on his sixteenth birthday, and when his mom said he could open his eyes, there it had been, gleaming in the driveway. How did you just start sitting with somebody like that, someone who had a car most kids- and grown men- only dreamed about, when you dreamed about a full stomach and better clothes?

Not so long ago, John wouldn't have wanted to even be seen with a kid like this. Not because he was looking to lord his money over less fortunate kids, like Jason Morgan and the Evans brothers always did. He'd been more like Anthony Summers, nice enough but very conscious of his social status, unwilling to risk it by being seen with "the wrong type".

But things were different now. John had no social status to care about anymore, and he was starting to think that he might be better off without it. The only friends he had left were the ones that were real.

"I don't care about that," John said firmly, but gently, keeping his voice down. "None of us do." He looked to Cindy, Scott and Sarah, got confirmation from all three. Looking back to the freshman, John said, "What we do care about is you helped me. You did the right thing. That means a lot to me, you know." He held out his hand. "I'm John LaFleur."

After a moment's hesitation, the boy took the senior's hand and shook it firmly enough, holding his gaze evenly. "Eric Dwyer." He hesitated again, then added, "Can Trevor sit with us?"

"Friend of yours?" John asked with a slight smile.

"Yeah," Eric nodded, then grinned. "I-I told him about you, how you- what you did. He's been wanting to meet you for a while now. He's gonna love this."

XX

After the initial warm-up, practice for Thursday consisted of more skirmish matches. Mixed teams faced off again and again, for just over an hour. Then Henry called out, "Stop!" and everyone stopped, right that instant.

Henry and his brother skated out to the center of the ice, and the hopefuls and veterans alike skated over to gather around them.

"Like football," Henry said without preamble, "Hockey is a rough, contact sport."

"So," Mark chimed in, "We need to know that you aspiring Varsity players can take a hit- and give one."

The pale, nervous faces on the hopefuls were hardly anything out of the ordinary, but the seniors all showed varying degrees of surprise, Jason Morgan in particular. Last year, all they'd done was make sure the hopefuls could take a good check, not test them on giving one.

Hastened by the angry shouts of Henry and Mark, the hopefuls all lined up. The seniors, much less rushed, got in another line facing them. Hopefuls began to be called forward, getting hit hard by one senior or another. The least fortunate were the two boys lined up to face Henry and Mark; they went down hardest and fastest of all, skidding across the ice. Chris hoped to get Jason, figuring his friend might go easy on him, but he got a cold-eyed, grinning Mason Sarkozy instead. Gleefully drawing back a gloved first, Mason slammed Chris right in the gut, and winked as Chris fell down on the rock-hard ice, wincing and struggling to get his air back.

Then came round two. Most of the aspiring Varsity boys were expecting they'd do the reverse, this time attempting to check one of the current Varsity team members. Instead, they found themselves being divided into two separate lines: the ones striking a blow, and the ones taking it. After the lines went through once, they would switch roles.

In arranging the lines, Mark and Henry made sure that Brian D'Aramitz and Justin Stiles faced each other at the head of each line. Brian punched Justin, but not that hard. After the lines finished going through, Henry and Mark announced a five-minute rest break.

The boys looked at them, wide-eyed, unable to believe their ears. This had to be some kind of trick. For once, the Varsity players were no less surprised, looking just as stunned as they stared at Henry and Mark. The brothers just stared right back, though; they seemed to be serious. Once this set in, the boys gratefully spread out, heading off to rest for the allotted five minutes.

Brian D'Aramitz was sitting on one of the benches, just catching his breath, when Henry and Mark's towering shadows fell over him. He looked up, and Henry said, "We wanna talk to you in the locker room. Come on."

"Yes, sir," Brian said, obediently getting up and following the brothers away from the rink, into the locker room. His stomach was suddenly churning, and various sympathetic, fearful looks were sent his way by the other hopefuls. The two captains wanting to see him alone- this couldn't be good.

XX

To Brian's shock, however, the brothers were neither violent nor intimidating. Sitting him down on a bench, they simply talked for a few minutes.

"You've been doing real well this week," Henry said. "You started off on the right foot, for one thing. You had enough sense not to try and fuckin' show off, sprinting like some of those kids did on Monday."

"You'll notice not many of them are here now," Mark added, and Brian nodded stiffly while turning a shade paler.

But the brothers just went on talking in that calm conversational tone, and gradually it began to dawn on Brian that he might get out of this all right.

"You're fast out there on the ice, though, and you are a sprinter when you need to be," Henry said."

"And you can shoot," Mark added. "You've got some good aim, and you're working as hard as anyone else out there. We've noticed."

Brian just stared at them under his messed-up swirl of sandy-blond hair, wide-eyed and unsure of how to field all these compliments. He just didn't know what to say.

That's when Henry and Mark dropped the bombshell:

"You might've heard that Andrew Cadiz is in the running for Varsity Football captain next year," Mark said casually. Brian nodded; actually, Andrew had been bragging about it every time they hung out, but was keeping it among just him and a few friends.

"We asked him who might make a good captain for Varsity Hockey next year," Henry said, "That's when he told us about you."

Shocked and delighted, Brian protested, "But- but, he never told me about that!"

"He wasn't supposed to," Mark said firmly. "We wanted to see you in action ourselves, get a chance to assess you without you knowing what was on the line."

"And Andrew was mostly right," Henry added. "You're almost who we're looking for.

Dread filled the pit of Brian's stomach then, hearing that word. Almost…

"What-" Brian stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. "What d'you mean?"

Mark sorrowfully shook his head. "You lack the one thing we need most in any member of the team, even more in a future team captain. You don't have any drive to win, Brian. To win at all costs. You've got no killer instinct."

"No- no! I do!" Brian protested, on his feet now. It was dangerous to do that with these two; anything even hinting at insubordination or disrespect could cause… physical repercussions. But Brian didn't care; he could already see what he'd just thought he'd won slipping away.

"No, you don't, Brian," Henry said sadly. "We've seen you coddling the other hockey hopefuls. We're trying to make boys into men out there, and you're undermining everything we do by babying the recruits."

"I'm, but- I-" Brian began desperately, but Mark just talked over him and he shut up.

"Final straw was that pussy check you pulled out there just now," Mark added. "Anybody that hits like that has no fire in them," he said, "And we need guys with fire on our team."

Brian stared at them, horrified and speechless. Barely two minutes ago he'd been feeling happier than he was all year; now he was plunging straight down into the depths of despair at a dizzying speed.

The look on the brothers' faces softened then, and Henry spoke in a soft, kind voice. "Look, Brian, it's not like you haven't done a good job of trying. In fact, it's because you have that we brought you in here. We've got enough respect for you, we wanted to talk to you alone and tell you why you won't be making the team. You can leave and get changed now, without everyone staring."

Brian sat down, suddenly fighting a powerful urge to put his head in his hands and cry. What good was it, getting to sneak out the back door like some coward? Everyone would know soon enough. A terrible, cold thought seeped into his mind then: I'd be better off hanging myself in my room tonight.

No. NO! He couldn't fail like this! Not now, not when he was so close!

As Henry and Mark got up to leave, Brian sprang to his feet again, filled with a fierce, desperate energy. "Guys, guys, guys! Stop, please, hang on a second! I- don't just cut me like this! Give me a second chance, just one fucking chance, okay? That's all I'm asking for!" Not even bothering to think about what he was probably committing to, Brian blurted out, "I can be the hockey player you want me to be; just tell me what I need to do. Just gimme a chance to do it."

The Evans titans looked at him for a few moments, silently debating whether to consider this or not. Henry said simply, "Wait here," and he and Mark headed behind some lockers a few rows over. Brian could hear the low murmur of their voices, but strain as he could- he didn't dare move and try getting closer- he couldn't make out anything they said.

There was a very good reason for that; Henry and Mark weren't saying any real words. They just talked nonsense for a few minutes, grinning at each other, knowing that Brian D'Aramitz was agonizing over this just a few feet away.

When they came back, Henry got right to the point. "We're gonna give you one more chance, Brian," he said. "You got one more chance to show us you're fuckin' built of steel, because that's the kind of player we need. But Brian, remember you're on thin ice. You be the kind of competitor we need to see out there from now on, or you might as well leave now."

"I will," Brian said hoarsely. "I swear I will."

"Then get outside," Henry said simply. "Tell 'em we'll be out to start practice again in a few minutes."

Brian left, pale and shell-shocked, silently vowing he wasn't going to get this close to losing everything, not ever again.

Once Brian D'Aramitz had gone, and they were alone in the locker room, Henry and Mark instantly broke out into gales of laughter, hanging onto each other for support. "Did you- did you see his face?" Mark gasped. "When we were complimenting him?"

Henry was laughing too hard to do anything but nod in response. When the laughter gradually subsided, the brothers wiped the tears from their eyes and took a few breaths. "That was the only way we were gonna get him to wake the fuck up. We had to make him want to be ruthless, choose to be that way. Now, we just reward him if it follows through."

"I think he will," Mark said. "But if he doesn't, who should our backup choice be?"

Henry thought about it a moment, then said, "Dylan Lucznik."

The junior Henry had named was a wiry, dark-haired junior whose parents had moved to Maine from Poland a few years ago. Mark nodded, considering the choice, then said, "He's slower than Brian. He isn't as good, either."

"But he sure is mean," Henry countered.

"And we want that more than anything else, in a captain," Mark observed.

Chuckling, Henry and Mark headed out of the locker room to get back on the ice and resume tryouts.

XX

The entire remainder of Thursday's tryouts consisted of checking and taking it, which meant physical strength quickly came to the fore as the more athletic boys repeatedly punched their weaker counterparts to the ice. All of them dreaded going up against Henry and Mark, though, because everyone who faced them went down hard. The brothers were observing much of the time, though, for which the hopeful boys were immensely grateful. Mark and Henry were watching very closely when Brian D'Aramitz went up against Justin Stiles, the weak rich kid who kept drinking too much water before practice, for a second round. This time, Brian struck immediately and with much greater force, sending the other boy skidding hard across the ice. He made no effort to help Justin up, but simply turned and skated to the back of the line.

That turned out to set the tone for Brian for the rest of practice; he went all out for over an hour until the stop was called. Anyone who managed to knock him down got hit that much harder when they faced each other again, and boys weaker than Brian were spared no mercy at all. He hit them all as hard as he could; not even Chris Marshal, older and at least as strong as Brian, checked his opponents with as much force.

After the surviving hopefuls had pulled off their skates and were returning to the locker room, Chris gave Brian a wary look as they walked in to the room side-by-side. "Are you sure you weren't a little harsh out there?" the redhead asked. "This is just tryouts, not a game against another team."

Inwardly feeling a little guilty about what he'd done, Brian jerked his head towards Chris, looking at him irritably. "And what was I supposed to do, dude? Go halfway? Go easy on 'em? What?"

Chris held his hands up, startled. "Hey, man, look! I'm just saying-"

"Henry and Mark wanna see us at our best out there, Chris!" Brian said, raising his voice in anger. The other boys had filed into the locker room behind them and were watching now, but he didn't care. He was scared of getting cut from the team, terrified of the social death-sentence that trying and failing to make Varsity would mean. Especially if word got out that he'd been "coddling the weak".

"They wanna see if we'll go as far as we need to for the win! This is the time to show 'em that we won't back down, that we'll give it all we got to make the team!" Turning from Chris, Brian shouted to the whole locker room of hopefuls now, his eyes wide and flashing angrily.

"This is Darwinism in action!" he yelled, referencing something he'd learned about in class just last month. "Survival of the fittest! Anyone who isn't strong enough is gonna fucking fail here; it's about time you guys figured that out!" He glared around at them all for a few moments.

"I'm not gonna waste my time on the weak," he spat, turning and yanking his locker open. Once he'd stripped off the layers of sweaty clothes and gotten his towel out, Brian headed for the showers. The other hopefuls looked at him with varying degrees of surprise, one or two with approval. In the showers, Dylan Lucznik shoved another boy out of the way and stepped in beside Brian, formally introducing himself for the first time. Chris Marshal still took the spot to Brian's right, but he said little while Brian and Dylan talked.

Justin Stiles, on the other hand, stayed clear of all of them.

XX

"What's up, old man?" Dylan Lucznik said, nodding to Chris as they showered. It was a little difficult to talk, with Brian D'Aramitz between them, but Chris nodded, then laughed. "Old man?"

"Only senior trying out for Varsity," Dylan said. "I guess you'd prefer SD, huh?"

"Fuckin' SD, man," Alex Fosse laughed as he went by, whipping his towel and slapping the redhead on the ass. "I'd kill a freshman to have a nickname like that."

"So you've made it this far," Dylan said, eyeing Chris appraisingly. "Maybe you will make the cut."

"I will," Chris said, confidently enough, though he was wondering about this nickname he'd apparently acquired. "What do you think?"

"I doubt it, but then, I doubt it for fucking everybody but me," the dark-haired boy said, and laughed. "I've been playing this fucking game since I was six, man, and I work out almost every day of the week. I'll make it."

"Guys," Brian D'Aramitz said, breaking his silence, "Stop talking like I'm not here between you, will you?"

"All right," Chris shrugged, and went back to savoring the hot water just a little longer, taking extra time washing his hair.

"Heh, check this out," Dylan Lucznik said to the both of them, his voice low. Then, as Justin Stiles walked by on his way out of the shower, Dylan reached out, lighting fast, and yanked the towel from the other boy's waist, throwing it back under the spray. "Whoops!" he cried theatrically. "My mistake! Under these lights I thought it was yellow!"

Several boys cracked up at that, particularly Dylan Lucznik's fellow Poles, the Kowalski twins. Chris laughed uneasily, while Brian just turned away. Justin Stiles, his face burning with embarrassment, resolutely went back into the showers and got the soaked towel.

"It's the only way he'll grow up," Dylan said with a shrug, when he saw Chris looking at him. Then he laughed again. "Yep. Only way."

XX

Later, coming out of the locker room and trying not to ignore the many stiff muscles and joints, the soreness that would hardly be getting any better tomorrow, Brian forced himself to walk normally, to not let any weakness show by allowing himself to limp. He felt angry, a little embarrassed at his theatrics in the locker room, and didn't at all like the fearful, wary look that Justin Stiles had given him, how the boy had stayed far away from him in the showers instead of stepping up right beside him and chatting.

But the anger helped cover his own guilt, and Brian resolved he would just quiet that part of himself, do what he had to in order to survive and get onto the Varsity hockey team. His determination only solidified when Henry and Mark, who were waiting for him right outside the locker room, stopped him, and Henry Evans gave him a smile. "Now that's what we wanna see."

XX

Dinner at the Evans house was like always; Henry and Mark ate in one evening what their parents did in several days. Susan wonderingly looked at her sons, each one the better part of seven feet tall and weighing over three hundred pounds of hard, sculpted muscle, and thought of the energetic little boys they used to be. She was proud of them, more so than she could ever say- but it was incredible how fast the years had gone by. It seemed only yesterday they'd just turned thirteen.

Mark announced that he was going to get started on his Christmas shopping, taking time to ask his parents if there was anything in particular that they wanted. Given how the Evans family had not truly worried about money in years, multiple things were given and received by each person, so asking was more a formality.

Wallace, preoccupied with his work as a major shareholder in Chrysler Corporation- particularly, trying to persuade Chrysler to actually build the Atlantic concept car, so he could buy one- talked wistfully of that newfangled invention, the digital video disc, and units similar to VCRs that could be used to play films recorded on it. Susan, an avid gardener and pianist, talked about her hobbies as a way of giving Mark some ideas, but he and Henry had also seen her eying some of the new coats and dresses at the higher-priced clothing stores on Exchange Street. Smiling warmly, Mark finally got up to leave, saying, "I think I've got some ideas."

As he was heading for the door, getting out the keys to the Silver Talon, Susan called after him from the living room. "Aren't you going to ask your brother what he wants?"

Mark looked back at her over his shoulder, and down the hallway at Henry, still sitting at the dining room table as he finished the last of his dinner. Mark smiled at Susan. "I already know."

XX

Mark wasn't going Christmas shopping tonight. He wasn't in any hurry to do that. As brilliant and cool under pressure as he was, he knew he'd only need to take one afternoon, two at the most, to get what he had in mind for everyone. No, tonight was special for a different reason. Mark knew he couldn't start going out with anyone else at school until he talked about it with Julie. And that was the agenda for tonight; Mark was putting his plan into action.

The auburn-haired seventeen-year-old shifted his expression as he pulled into Julie's driveway, deliberately putting on the look of someone trying to hide a problem as he drove slowly inside, parked and got out. Julie ushered him into the kitchen, but Mark said, "I already ate," kissing her only briefly.

XX

Julie's heart plunged, and her first, instinctive fear was that Mark was having second thoughts about the baby. She coaxed him into sitting down at the kitchen table, and said softly, "This is going to be hard on both of us. It didn't happen when we'd thought it would. So… if you're worried about this, or upset, I understand, and-"

"Of course I'm not upset about that."

She started, looking over at Mark, who gazed back with those cool blue eyes of his. They had this intensity to them; it was like every inch of him was alive as you could possibly be, at every second. Merely looking at him was witnessing the pinnacle of what human beings could be at a given age. There wasn't a smarter or more talented seventeen year old male in all the world.

Reaching over, Mark took both of Julie's hands in his own. "Julie," he said, his voice quiet and emotional, "I've wanted to be with you since the day I met you. Ever since we started seeing each other, all I could do when I was anywhere else was look forward to the next time I'd be with you. The night we made this baby was the best night of my life, and I know it wasn't supposed to happen any other way. I wouldn't trade this for anything, Julie."

Julie sighed, relief rushing into her. She needed Mark's support and approval here; she knew she needed him to make it through the months ahead. Hearing him reaffirm what he said before, when she first told him, meant a lot. Surprised, relieved and delighted all at once, Julie still wondered what was bothering him. "Well," she asked, "What's wrong, then?"

Biting his lip, Mark frowned a moment. "The problem is that… ever since I ended that relationship I had with my last high school girlfriend… well, it wasn't like that was going to go on much longer. It wasn't real. But ever since she and I broke up on Halloween, more and more girls at school have been flirting with me. As far as they know, I've been single for a month now. I haven't been single this long since I was fourteen. Every day the girls are getting more obvious about it. And pretty soon people are gonna start asking questions. 'Why is Mark Evans still single after so long?' 'Is he dating someone secretly? People are gonna start nosing around, looking for clues."

Mark hesitated, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly. "I'm afraid of what they'll find. And… when my favourite, single teacher gives birth roughly nine months after Halloween…" he trailed off, shaking his head, his expression confused, helpless. "I just don't know what to do."

Presented with the problem this way, Julie could see clearly how serious a danger this was. Mark was, alongside his brother, the single most sought-after boyfriend at his high school. He was the most popular boy there, the one every girl wanted to go out with and every guy wanted to be. Somebody like that was hardly single for a week, or even a day. An entire month was unbelievable, and people definitely would be asking questions soon, if they weren't already.

Of course it would seem strange to the rest of the school that someone as fantastic as Mark should be single for so long! Julie just hadn't been able to see it before. Or maybe she just hadn't wanted to. She'd been so entranced with having him as her lover and soulmate that she hadn't spared a moment's thought as to anyone else's desire for him.

And Mark was right. The longer it went on, the more suspicious people would get, and more curious. They were already taking a terrible chance, carrying on this relationship like this. They couldn't afford to take any more risks.

For a moment, Julie's imagination flashed onto what would happen if someone were to discover their relationship now. Find out that a seventeen-year-old football and hockey star was sleeping with his twenty-eight-year-old chemistry teacher. And gotten her pregnant. The scandal, the loss of her job and career… and worst of all, the loss of Mark- who would be forbidden from seeing her ever again, no matter what he wanted- just when she needed his confidence and strength most.

So the only thing to do was-

Julie gasped, a sharp pain piercing her chest at the very thought. She could see what needed to happen, clearly enough. But one look at Mark told her she couldn't bear to say it yet. It was painful just thinking about it, and it would be even worse for Mark. He'd have to do something dishonest, which clearly went against his very nature. Mark was such a wonderful man, so kind and truthful in everything he said, that telling him this now would just make his mental agony worse. Julie's was hardly any easier, to the point she simply couldn't put it into words. Not now. There just wasn't a safe or easy way to say it, and yet she had to. Somehow.

"I don't know what to do either," Julie said, looking as worried as she felt. Mark looked at her, at a loss for words, and she stood up, reaching down and taking his hand. "I can think of something we can do, though," she said, lowering her voice. "Right now."

"What?" Mark asked, looking up at her uncertainly. Julie realised how troubled and confused he really was then; Mark normally would have picked up on a line like that instantly.

She stood him up, kissed him, and took his hand. "Come with me," she said softly, "And I'll show you." Mark looked at her questioningly, but Julie brushed a hand over his eyes, closing them. "Come on," she said, and began to lead him upstairs.

XX

Mark laughed a little when Julie turned and closed his eyes again when she saw him peeking, but stripped quickly and easily when they got into her bedroom. He didn't even have to be asked; they used this room for one reason and one only, and he knew it as well as Julie did. Julie pulled off her own shirt, Mark blindly felt for her bra strap and tossed it aside. They began to make out, gradually stepping closer to her bed, and Julie gently set her hands on Mark's broad chest, pushing him down on it.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Mark laughed, as Julie stepped out of her pants and tossed her thong away.

"Not yet," Julie replied, and climbed onto the bed, straddling Mark's groin. She took hold of him, lowered herself onto him, and Mark sighed.

"Now," she said, and started.

XX

Julie made love to Mark, pressing her hands on his chest, and he gazed up at her fondly, all the fear and anxiety he'd been feeling now gone from his mind. Looking him in the eyes, Julie knew. Mark was in a happier place now, as was she, and once they were done for the evening she'd be able to tell him. Not now, of course- there was too much enjoyment to be had first.

After they'd rested a few minutes, Mark rolled Julie onto her back, and she felt a special thrill at letting him take control. Mark was so strong, so powerful- he was the icon of what an alpha male was supposed to be. It wasn't just natural to let him take charge in bed- it was exciting. Three more times they made love, Mark taking control for all of them, and Julie, breathing and sweating hard, urged him on. Mark responded, pushing himself each time, and he worked up a pretty decent sweat by the end of their fourth time that evening. Pulling himself out once he was done, Mark grinned and kissed her, flopping down on the bed. "I love you," he said, and she knew he meant it. He always did.

XX

While they rested, Julie lay belly to belly with Mark, her head on his broad, muscular chest as his powerful arms held her under the blankets. Julie was tired, as she always was after- Mark's endurance was immense. He could go on for what seemed like forever. Making love seemed to calm them both down, clear their heads, and Julie knew Mark would be able to hear the solution now, the one way they could fix the problem they faced. And she could tell him, be able to bear saying it herself.

"Mark," she said quietly.

"Hm?" he said, stroking her hair with one hand.

"You need-" she hesitated, then forced herself to go on. "You need to ask someone out at school, Mark. You need another girlfriend."

Mark held her close to him, as if the idea upset him even thinking about it, upset him as much as it did her. "No. I don't want anyone else at that school, Julie," he said with finality. "Just you."

"I know," Julie said, "But- it's the only thing that will help keep them from…" she felt a sharp pain in her chest just thinking about it, and started to cry. "Oh, Mark…"

He held her, quietly soothing her with his voice. "It's all right," he said. "It's okay. If I have to, I'll do it. Okay? I will." Mark sighed. "I just wish there was another way."

After a minute or two, Julie felt Mark raise her up a little, and she looked into his blue eyes, deep and thoughtful. She sat up some more, and Mark took one of her hands, gently placing it on Julie's smooth, pale belly. "Our first baby," Mark said softly, reverently. "We're going to be parents, Julie." He paused, looking at her. "This isn't happening sooner than it was meant to. It's happening exactly when it was meant to." Another pause. "I'll stay with you, Julie, whatever happens. I'll do what I have to at school." He pulled her back to him, firmly but gently. "Come on," he said quietly. "Get some rest."

XX

They lay there for nearly an hour, but still it felt like it was barely a few minutes before Mark gently brushed her off, kissing her on the forehead as he got up to go. He didn't head downstairs to get any of the pills Julie used to take, nor had he been careful of how he finished tonight. With Julie pregnant, there was little point.

Enjoying the view as Mark got up, Julie watched as he dressed- taking his time, as he always did when he knew she was watching. But as Mark pulled on his jeans, Julie was solemn as she told him, "You have to do this, Mark," and she knew he'd know what she meant.

Mark stopped, standing silently for a moment. Then he reached for his shirt, holding it in his hands. "I'll be thinking of you the whole time," he said, looking her in the eyes. "And I won't let it get in the way of spending time with you."

Julie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He came around the side of the bed, kissed Julie on the lips. "I love you," he said softly, then pulled his shirt over his head and left.

Once he'd gone and she saw his car pull out of the driveway, Julie sighed, misery and loneliness flooding into her, bringing the tears back. It had taken every ounce of strength Julie had to tell him, help him see what he needed to do. But she wasn't as strong as Mark, and she felt tired and alone without him. Lying back on her bed, she wept into her pillow, knowing that there was just nothing either of them could do. It had to be this way, at least for now.

Julie eventually got up to take a shower, still breaking into tears now and then. She was in an emotional uproar lately, swinging from extremely happy to the exact opposite, then back again. It excited her, knowing she was pregnant, having her first baby, and that she'd conceived it with the only man she'd ever love. But it also scared her, knowing so many difficult months lay ahead, and at the end of it, giving birth- a struggle all by itself.

Back under her blankets again, she set a hand on her stomach, still smooth and taut; the baby hadn't shown itself yet. But it would. As long as she stayed calm, remembered that Mark loved her, and that these difficulties wouldn't last forever. The baby would be fine, Mark would be fine- and then so would Julie.

XX

Driving home, Mark was in a fantastic mood, enjoying himself immensely. And why not? It had been a perfect evening. His pregnant chemistry teacher had given him everything he wanted. Agreed to him dating girls in school again, gotten him laid, worshipped him and the ground he walked on- things were going just the way they should have been.

Once he got home, Mark went straight up to Henry's room. Henry was just back from a shower, and right away Mark had to tell him. "I did it," he blurted excitedly. "It worked!"

"What, you fucked her again?" Henry asked, pulling a pair of jeans and black t-shirt on and flopping heavily own on his bed.

Mark laughed, enjoying how casual Henry was about that. In his eyes- and in Mark's- that was about all Julie Michaels was good for. "Yeah," he chuckled, and Henry grinned. "But that's not important-"

"It's not?" Henry gaped, staring wide-eyed at him. "Never thought I'd hear you say that!"

"Just shut up, okay!" Mark said as he tried not to crack up, and they both laughed again.

"Okay, okay," Henry said, leaning eagerly towards him. "What's up? Tell me, I wanna know everything."

Just as eager to tell as Henry was to hear it, Mark went over the evening at Julie's in full, relaying every event in loving detail. "I just acted like I was really worried about something when I got there," Mark said. "I got her thinking it was about the baby, she thought it was that at first. Then I told her about the girls at school, and I said, "I just don't know what to do!"

"And what did she say about that?" Henry asked, his emerging smirk saying he'd already guessed.

"Well," Mark smirked in return, "She led me upstairs and we fucked," and Henry laughed. "Later she said I need to ask someone out," Mark grinned. "She said I have to! She isn't just letting me, she's telling me to!"

"Damn, Mark," Henry said with a punch to his brother's shoulder. "You'll be like Eddie Haskell at school, fucking two chicks every week!"

"I mean, she believed it," Mark said boastfully, reveling in his joy and amusement at how easily it had worked. "She believed every word I said! I told her I've been single too long, people are gonna start asking questions, I act all worried- and she tells me to go ask someone out, start dating again!" Mark laughed, amazed even at himself. "It's like all I have to do is tell her "I love you," and she'll do anything I say!"

Henry, who had been listening with a smile the whole time, greatly enjoying Mark's tale of the evening, grinned even wider now. "Remember, Mark?" he asked. "I told you that you could make her believe anything." He reached over to where Mark sat beside him, putting a heavy, muscular arm around Mark's broad shoulders. Looking fondly at his brother, Henry said warmly, "You're as good at this as I am. We can make anybody believe anything we want. You know something?"

"What?" Mark asked quietly, clearing his throat and trying to keep his eyes dry.

Henry gave his brother's shoulders a squeeze. "I'm proud of you."