Ch. 1
Glen Hilliard stared down the narrow strip of carpeting that lay between himself and the pommel horse about 25 feet away. He focused on his aerial technique, a straight double rotation, concentrating on the technique needed to rotate his body in mid-air and still execute a flawless landing. Taking a deep breath, he crouched into his stance and took off running. When he was only a few steps away, he leaned forward and jumped, hitting the small jump block at just the right spot. This was the part of jumping he always enjoyed the most, the suspense in the first few moments of the jump when it seemed that success or failure hung on a razor's edge, that one small twitch of his body could totally throw off his balance at a critical time and ruin the jump. He took off from the box, feeling his body rotate forward completely around the axis of his spine until his head was directly perpendicular with the ground. His fingertips just barely grazed the top of the horse, giving him that last bit of momentum he would need to get himself around. Around he went, the world rotating in his view. As he did, he could sense things start to slow down and distort as he approached the apex of his jump, one full revolution now complete. He hit the apex and began to descend, again leaning himself forward, starting on the second rotation. He could see the ground rushing towards him as he continued to go around, bringing his legs closer back to the ground, and then felt the thud as his feet hit the floor. He crouched into the landing and then stood erect and beaming, completing a successful jump.
He heard some scattered applause from the direction of the bench. He looked to see the gym coach smiling at him. "Good jump, Hilliard", said the coach. "Take a breather for a couple minutes and then try another one," "Sure thing, Mr. Langley," Glen replied. Mr. Langley was the coach of the gymnastics team. For two years, Glen had been trying unsuccessfully to make the team. He had come close last year, but the last few spots had wound up going to upper-classmen instead. Glen figured that since he was an upper- classmen himself, he'd have a much better shot this time around. Mr. Langley was doing the gymnastics unit in PE at the beginning of the year in order to fill the team up sooner. As he put it, "The sooner we get the team together, the sooner we can train together and work towards beating the competition," Even though Mr. Langley was pretty much a typical jock, Glen liked his strategy of getting a leg up on the competition early. He pulled his shirt out of his shorts and wiped his brow before returning to the other end of the runway.
Glen's jump had also attracted some attention from the other side of the room where some other boys were sitting in the other bleachers. These were mostly the football guys, who due to their size weren't exactly suited for gymnastics, and who couldn't care about tumbling, swinging, and jumping much anyways. In fact, aside from about 4 other people, Glen had the floor pretty much to himself.
About 5 rows up, Lance Alvers sat watching, bored as usual. "Why am I even wasting my time here," he thought to himself, "When I could be hanging out with the Brotherhood or maybe trying to get together with Kitty again," Next to him sat one of his Brotherhood friends, Pietro. Pietro brushed a few strands of his silvery hair out of his eyes and staved off a yawn. Lance glared down at the coach and the people on the floor. "Man, if it wasn't for those idiots we could probably just leave," he muttered to Pietro. "No kidding. " replied Pietro. "Look at 'em, they're only doing this because these guys suck at every other sport, and the coaches figured they might as well find something for 'em to do," "Yeah," said Lance, sneering. "Look down there at that little faggot," he said, leaning over to Pietro and pointing down at Glen. "Thinks he's so special now that he can do something we can't," Pietro nodded in silent agreement. Suddenly they heard a small voice from behind them. "He looked pretty good to me," it said. Lance turned around to see where the annoyance had come from, and found the source, a smallish boy sitting a couple rows off. Lance looked over to see Sam staring down in wonder at Glen as he wiped his forehead off, showing off his bare chest momentarily. "I'll bet you did. You two look like you'd be perfect for each other!" "Yeah," chimed in Pietro. "Don't you know, he's a total fag! And a big loser, too. You'd go great with him," he said, sniggering. "I didn't know he was gay," Sam said. "Duh! Everybody knows!" Pietro said to him. Lance just grinned maliciously and continued to stare down at Glen, a plan coming to his head. Sam got up and moved to another part of the bleachers, a bit saddened at being harassed, but also a bit intrigued about Glen. "He is cute, he thought, and I could certainly use a friend to help me survive getting used to this place," He made up his mind to try and approach Glen after gym.
Glen ran his hand through his short, curly hair while thinking of what to do for his next jump. He knew a couple tricks that would really turn the heads of the coaches, but they were pretty risky and he didn't want to take the chance of getting injured before the season started. He finally settled on a jump, a reverse corkscrew spin, and began to set his mind to the task of the jump. As he was getting ready, he felt the gym start to shake a bit. "Great," he thought. "Another tremor. I guess they'll probably cancel class now," He turned around and stared at the wall glumly. He had been really hoping to make an impression on the coaches. What he didn't see was Lance up in the bleachers, his fist clenched into a tight ball and an intense look of concentration on his face. "Now!" he whispered to Pietro. Pietro stood up and sprinted down to the floor, using his own powers of speed. While doing this, Lance increased the intensity of his concentration a bit more, making the tremor a bit stronger, which would serve to distract attention from Pietro's actions. While Lance was making the room shake, Pietro pulled one of the supports askew on the pommel horse just enough so that when Glen hit it, it would tip over, off-balance. His prank complete, he dashed back up to his seat next to Lance, who relaxed, the tremor stopping. The whole exchange had lasted less than 8 seconds. "Watch this!" Lance said, leering.
Glen tried to shake off the tremor. These things had been happening for months now, but he knew that he really wasn't in any danger. There were no fault lines around the Bayville area, according to seismic charts, although people took comfort in the fact that the tremors were somewhat uncommon and never caused any kind of damage. He settled back into his focusing, and when he was ready, took off down the runway.
Sam had been too busy and too far away to notice Pietro's prank. But looking at it now, he got the impression that something wasn't quite right. He thought that one of the legs looked a little funny, like it had been knocked off its support. He continued to gaze, concerned. Too late, he realized what was wrong, but could not even shout a warning, and could only watch, mouth agape, as events unfolded.
Glen hit the jump box and sprung into his jump. In order to do this, he would have to push off hard from the horse and spin completely around before starting his rotations. He felt the same sense of things slowing down he did before as his hands hit the horse. When his fingers began to press against the horse, he could tell something was wrong. He didn't feel the same counter-pressure he had felt with the last jump. He tried to push harder, but felt only less resistance. He realized that the leg of the horse must have come unbalanced, but at this point, in mid-air, he was powerless to do anything about it except hope that he landed right.
The horse tipped over with a loud crash. The thud of Glen's body hitting the mat a moment later followed it up. Glen landed on his back and rolled into an awkward ball on the mat. Disorientated, he could not get up immediately, and sat on the floor while the world began to spin itself back into some semblance of order. He heard laughter from the bleachers, and he heard Lance call out, "Nice move, fag!" He slumped farther down, dejected, knowing that he had probably blown his chance at making the team for yet another year.
"All right, that's enough," called out Langley. "Class, hit the showers. Alvers, you can help me put this thing back together." "Oh, man!" groaned Lance.
Glen staggered to his feet and began to head for the showers. Sam, watching him slowly walk off the floor, got up and followed him into the locker room.
Glen Hilliard stared down the narrow strip of carpeting that lay between himself and the pommel horse about 25 feet away. He focused on his aerial technique, a straight double rotation, concentrating on the technique needed to rotate his body in mid-air and still execute a flawless landing. Taking a deep breath, he crouched into his stance and took off running. When he was only a few steps away, he leaned forward and jumped, hitting the small jump block at just the right spot. This was the part of jumping he always enjoyed the most, the suspense in the first few moments of the jump when it seemed that success or failure hung on a razor's edge, that one small twitch of his body could totally throw off his balance at a critical time and ruin the jump. He took off from the box, feeling his body rotate forward completely around the axis of his spine until his head was directly perpendicular with the ground. His fingertips just barely grazed the top of the horse, giving him that last bit of momentum he would need to get himself around. Around he went, the world rotating in his view. As he did, he could sense things start to slow down and distort as he approached the apex of his jump, one full revolution now complete. He hit the apex and began to descend, again leaning himself forward, starting on the second rotation. He could see the ground rushing towards him as he continued to go around, bringing his legs closer back to the ground, and then felt the thud as his feet hit the floor. He crouched into the landing and then stood erect and beaming, completing a successful jump.
He heard some scattered applause from the direction of the bench. He looked to see the gym coach smiling at him. "Good jump, Hilliard", said the coach. "Take a breather for a couple minutes and then try another one," "Sure thing, Mr. Langley," Glen replied. Mr. Langley was the coach of the gymnastics team. For two years, Glen had been trying unsuccessfully to make the team. He had come close last year, but the last few spots had wound up going to upper-classmen instead. Glen figured that since he was an upper- classmen himself, he'd have a much better shot this time around. Mr. Langley was doing the gymnastics unit in PE at the beginning of the year in order to fill the team up sooner. As he put it, "The sooner we get the team together, the sooner we can train together and work towards beating the competition," Even though Mr. Langley was pretty much a typical jock, Glen liked his strategy of getting a leg up on the competition early. He pulled his shirt out of his shorts and wiped his brow before returning to the other end of the runway.
Glen's jump had also attracted some attention from the other side of the room where some other boys were sitting in the other bleachers. These were mostly the football guys, who due to their size weren't exactly suited for gymnastics, and who couldn't care about tumbling, swinging, and jumping much anyways. In fact, aside from about 4 other people, Glen had the floor pretty much to himself.
About 5 rows up, Lance Alvers sat watching, bored as usual. "Why am I even wasting my time here," he thought to himself, "When I could be hanging out with the Brotherhood or maybe trying to get together with Kitty again," Next to him sat one of his Brotherhood friends, Pietro. Pietro brushed a few strands of his silvery hair out of his eyes and staved off a yawn. Lance glared down at the coach and the people on the floor. "Man, if it wasn't for those idiots we could probably just leave," he muttered to Pietro. "No kidding. " replied Pietro. "Look at 'em, they're only doing this because these guys suck at every other sport, and the coaches figured they might as well find something for 'em to do," "Yeah," said Lance, sneering. "Look down there at that little faggot," he said, leaning over to Pietro and pointing down at Glen. "Thinks he's so special now that he can do something we can't," Pietro nodded in silent agreement. Suddenly they heard a small voice from behind them. "He looked pretty good to me," it said. Lance turned around to see where the annoyance had come from, and found the source, a smallish boy sitting a couple rows off. Lance looked over to see Sam staring down in wonder at Glen as he wiped his forehead off, showing off his bare chest momentarily. "I'll bet you did. You two look like you'd be perfect for each other!" "Yeah," chimed in Pietro. "Don't you know, he's a total fag! And a big loser, too. You'd go great with him," he said, sniggering. "I didn't know he was gay," Sam said. "Duh! Everybody knows!" Pietro said to him. Lance just grinned maliciously and continued to stare down at Glen, a plan coming to his head. Sam got up and moved to another part of the bleachers, a bit saddened at being harassed, but also a bit intrigued about Glen. "He is cute, he thought, and I could certainly use a friend to help me survive getting used to this place," He made up his mind to try and approach Glen after gym.
Glen ran his hand through his short, curly hair while thinking of what to do for his next jump. He knew a couple tricks that would really turn the heads of the coaches, but they were pretty risky and he didn't want to take the chance of getting injured before the season started. He finally settled on a jump, a reverse corkscrew spin, and began to set his mind to the task of the jump. As he was getting ready, he felt the gym start to shake a bit. "Great," he thought. "Another tremor. I guess they'll probably cancel class now," He turned around and stared at the wall glumly. He had been really hoping to make an impression on the coaches. What he didn't see was Lance up in the bleachers, his fist clenched into a tight ball and an intense look of concentration on his face. "Now!" he whispered to Pietro. Pietro stood up and sprinted down to the floor, using his own powers of speed. While doing this, Lance increased the intensity of his concentration a bit more, making the tremor a bit stronger, which would serve to distract attention from Pietro's actions. While Lance was making the room shake, Pietro pulled one of the supports askew on the pommel horse just enough so that when Glen hit it, it would tip over, off-balance. His prank complete, he dashed back up to his seat next to Lance, who relaxed, the tremor stopping. The whole exchange had lasted less than 8 seconds. "Watch this!" Lance said, leering.
Glen tried to shake off the tremor. These things had been happening for months now, but he knew that he really wasn't in any danger. There were no fault lines around the Bayville area, according to seismic charts, although people took comfort in the fact that the tremors were somewhat uncommon and never caused any kind of damage. He settled back into his focusing, and when he was ready, took off down the runway.
Sam had been too busy and too far away to notice Pietro's prank. But looking at it now, he got the impression that something wasn't quite right. He thought that one of the legs looked a little funny, like it had been knocked off its support. He continued to gaze, concerned. Too late, he realized what was wrong, but could not even shout a warning, and could only watch, mouth agape, as events unfolded.
Glen hit the jump box and sprung into his jump. In order to do this, he would have to push off hard from the horse and spin completely around before starting his rotations. He felt the same sense of things slowing down he did before as his hands hit the horse. When his fingers began to press against the horse, he could tell something was wrong. He didn't feel the same counter-pressure he had felt with the last jump. He tried to push harder, but felt only less resistance. He realized that the leg of the horse must have come unbalanced, but at this point, in mid-air, he was powerless to do anything about it except hope that he landed right.
The horse tipped over with a loud crash. The thud of Glen's body hitting the mat a moment later followed it up. Glen landed on his back and rolled into an awkward ball on the mat. Disorientated, he could not get up immediately, and sat on the floor while the world began to spin itself back into some semblance of order. He heard laughter from the bleachers, and he heard Lance call out, "Nice move, fag!" He slumped farther down, dejected, knowing that he had probably blown his chance at making the team for yet another year.
"All right, that's enough," called out Langley. "Class, hit the showers. Alvers, you can help me put this thing back together." "Oh, man!" groaned Lance.
Glen staggered to his feet and began to head for the showers. Sam, watching him slowly walk off the floor, got up and followed him into the locker room.
