David lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jack had fallen asleep about a half an hour ago. His arm draped over his chest and he was breathing deeply but wasn't snoring. Of course, Jack didn't snore in his sleep. He made mumbling noises as if he were talking to someone who wasn't there. Secretly, he believed that it was because Jack never ate anything that it led him to hallucinate but it wasn't really his place to say so. Actually, it was but he knew Jack wasn't going to listen to him.

There was also something bothering him about how Jack wasn't taking any AP or honors classes this year. And he seemed really noncommittal about taking his SATS. Was it senioritis or something else? Jack had expressed interest in going to NYU, hadn't he?

David nudged him slightly. Jack mumbled something and snuggled deeper.

"Jack," he hissed into his ear. "Jack."

Another mumble but this time he opened his eyes. "What?"

"How come you aren't taking any good classes this year?"

He sighed and rolled onto his back. "Because I don't want to…I…"

He shook his head and reached for his pants to grab a cigarette. David stopped him. He was trying to get him to quit smoking as well. Jack was going to get too thin.

"Jack." David rolled over and stroked his cheek in a way he hoped was comforting. "Talk to me."

He shook his head. "No. I can't talk to you about this. You wouldn't understand."

He felt anger flare up in his chest. "How do you know if you won't say it?"

"Because, Dave, you're all early admittance to Berkley. Mr. 1560 on his SATS. You wouldn't understand someone not wanting that."

He frowned. Not wanting that? Was Jack saying that he didn't want to go to college? How could someone not want to go to college?

"What do you mean?" David asked.

"I mean…nothing. It's nothing, really," he promised.

He took David's hand and kissed it gently. David felt the urge to whip it away.

"Jack…" he said in a warning tone.

He let out a puff of air and rolled onto his back.

"Dave, it's nothing. Forget about it. I'm just stressed out right now about shit going on at home."

"Tell me."

He shrugged. "It's nothing for you to worry about. Promise. Just…"

He rolled back onto his side and kissed him more tenderly and sweetly than he had ever been kissed by Jack. Even more tender than their "make up" kiss in the elevator.

"Just forget about it," he whispered against his lips when they separated. "I'm just a little stressed out and needed to lighten my load, okay?"

David nodded. "Okay."

--

Spot was not amused. He sat in Denton's class, his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face.

"I'm splitting you into partners by seating arrangement," he explained. "I know it seems odd, a project on the third day of school, but we want to hit the ground running, don't we?"

There was the expected, limited reply. Jack let out a 'hell yeah!' and pumped his arms up but quickly dissolved into laughter. Spot looked down at the list of books in front of him. He and whatever partner he was given would have to choose to do their interpretation on.

"Come on, guys," Denton grinned goofily at the bored and disinterested students. "It should be a fun project. These books…they deal with broad themes so don't confine yourselves to the literal interpretation."

He started picking off partners. The hair on the back of Spot's neck rose. Jesus, what if he was put with Jack? Furthermore, how did Jack still not know what happened that night? How drunk was he? Certainly someone told him, right?

"Patrick, you're with Mark."

Spot turned to look at stupid Goldstein who just smiled uneasily at him. He sighed. Stuck with that preppie loser. Well, at least it wasn't Jack.

--

Skittery let out a labored sigh and plopped at their regular lunch table.

"Uh oh, Skittery's pissed," Snitch said in a singsong voice.

He gave him a glacial look and let his head fall into his arms.

"What gives?" Blink queried, filching his daily cucumber from David's salad. "You were acting all freaky on the car ride this morning too."

"My dad found out that I'm still dating Oscar," he explained to his arms.

David and Snitch exchanged a confused look.

"Elaborate," Snitch commanded. "You two have been dating since, like, ever."

"Very eloquently put, Rizzio," Blink said coolly. "But seriously, what gives?"

Skittery shrugged. "My father decided to get all parental on me for once in my life and because of my little 'relapse' earlier this year because of him, he doesn't want me seeing him anymore. I mean…he hit me once."

David looked around, visibly confused. "What? Oscar hit you?"

Snitch elbowed him. "Way to come in late in the game, Jacobs."

"Seriously, he actually threatened to throw me out." He made a sour face. "But then again, this is the first time he's done this so I have a feeling it won't happen. But Jesus…"

Blink shook his head. "I forgave Oscar for that. Your dad can."

Skittery rolled his eyes. "Blink, you're my friend. My dad aided in my creation. And, to him, Oscar is the abusive Antichrist."

Snitch tapped his chin. "Yeah…that sounds about right."

Skittery balled up his napkin and threw it at him. Snitch held his hands up.

"Hey, hey. Skits, calm down. I'm only here to help. In fact, I already have an idea."

Blink and David exchanged a look. Snitch frowned.

"Hey, my ideas work. Remember Homecoming? And, Blink, I got you and Mush back together…where is the little freak anyway?"

Blink glared at him. "He is not a freak. And he's…he's enlightening himself in the mysteries of the Zohar in the library…"

Skittery shook his head. "I still don't know when he converted to Judaism."

"Oh, there are a lot of souls inside Mush's teeny little body," Snitch giggled into his palm.

Blink scowled. "Can we not discuss this? We were talking about Skittery, remember?"

Snitch laughed and held his hands up. "Alright, alright. My genius idea is from a book."

David just shook his head and took a bite of his salad. Snitch elbowed him lightly before continuing.

"Okay, you go to a priest and get him to give you this drug that makes it seem like you're dead but only for, like, three days. Then I'll send a letter to Oscar to come get you so you can run away together. It can't possibly fail!"

Skittery opened his mouth to say something but Blink held his hand up.

"It's best if we just don't say anything. I, for one, have given up at this point."

Snitch frowned. "What? It's even supported by literature."

"Yeah," David scoffed. "Romeo and Juliet. We all know how well that ended."

Skittery noticed a slight edge to his voice that he couldn't attribute to Snitch's less than brilliant idea.

"Okay, so I was joking. But I'll think of something."

"Please don't."

--

"You're coming with me."

Specs glanced up from his lunch to see Spot Conlon standing in front of him. His thin arms were crossed over his chest and that perpetual scowl was on his face. He glanced at Dutchy and Bumlets who gave him curious looks.

"Dude, the uppercrust," Dutchy cackled.

Spot ignored him and dead-eyed Specs.

"Goldstein, it's not multiple choice. Come on."

Specs grabbed his backpack, gave his friends an almost frightened look and followed Spot out of the cafeteria.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm setting you up for the mob hit that'll put you out of my misery," he answered coldly. "I said to come on."

Specs was confused. Spot obviously wasn't enjoying his company and yet he sought him out and dragged him away from his friends. They kept walking in silence towards the direction of the library. Specs glanced around the empty hallways, expecting Snyder to jump out at them and shoved pink detention slips under their noses.

"Alright." Spot stopped about ten feet from the double doors. "Listen, I kind of don't want to spend lunch where I normally do and I figured 'if I'm going to skip out, who do I want to bring down with me?' and since you're my partner in that fucking assignment, I chose you."

Specs gave him a skeptical look.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Oh, nothing. So…um…okay. Are we going to work on the project?"

"Sure, why not? What book are we doing?"

Specs bit his lip. "Um, I was thinking maybe Lord of the Flies…there's a lot of symbolism about good and evil in there and…"

Spot held a hand up. "Spare me. Okay, we'll do that one. Our theme should be…Luster."

Specs felt his face heat up. "Spot! We can't do our project to the theme of gay porn!"

He shrugged and leaned against a bay of lockers. "Why not? It pretty much is already."

He decided that a subject change would be prudent. But he couldn't think of anything to discuss with Spot. There was no need to ask him why he wasn't spending lunch in the bathroom with Jack and Race because even he had heard about what happened at the party. Outside of that, he didn't know anything to talk to Spot about. They were on different planes of existence. Spot was popular and he was not. And what could they talk about? The fact that they both liked boys?

"Um…let's pick a different theme," he offered lamely.

Spot just smirked.

Yeah, this would be me not looking forward to this project, Specs thought dourly.

--

"Let's do drugs."

Jack looked up at Race, giving him a strange look. "What?"

"Drugs. Let's do some drugs," he suggested airily, as though he were proposing a stroll through Central Park.

He cocked a brow. "Drugs? Like pot?"

Race sat next to him and shook his head. "No. Ecstasy, meth, heroin. Drugs."

"Are you on crack?"

"Not yet."

Jack ground his cigarette into the metal side of the paper towel dispenser and shook his head.

"Damn, Race, what gives? You've been acting insane and what the hell is up with you and Spot?"

Race gave him a dirty look.

"Don't give me those looks. Remember who's in charge, Higgins. Now spill, assjack."

"We broke up. That's it. Now let's do some drugs. I bet we could find a supplier here. I bet Palanski knows a few people."

Jack shook his head. "Whatever. You're PMSing and I don't care enough. Whatever happened between you and Spot is none of my business anyway."

"Yes it is."

He turned around. "What?"

"What happened between me and Spot," he explained. "It is your business. You were involved."

Jack shifted his eyes side to side. What the hell was Race getting at?

"Hmm?"

"We broke up because Spot was blowing you off at that party."

"What?"

"Spot was giving you head. You were wast—"

Jack grabbed him by the front of his shirt and rammed him into a wall.

"What?" he repeated in a low voice.

"…Are you on 'roids or something? That violence was unnecessary," Race spoke coolly but his face was contorted into a look of fear.

"Are you telling me that Spot played mouth pole-vaulting with me and I didn't know?"

He nodded. "In fact, if memory serves—I was kind of blinded by rage—you thought he was David."

Jack let him down and slumped on the floor. "Shit."

Race sat next to him. "Indeed."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Jack could only assume that Race was thinking about his own current dilemma. He was fucked. No way could David find out. He was still pissed about their argument yesterday and this was going to make him break with him once more. Possibly permanently. Shit.

He cast a look at Race.

"What?"

"So…drugs you say?"

--

A/N: Any hardcore fans notice the little actor reference in there? Well, if not, it was Luster who happened to have our lovely little Shon Greenblatt in it. Hee, Oscar's in porn.