Andrew remembered with crystal clarity when his secret was nearly revealed six months ago.

He was listening to an N*Sync CD on his headphones, singing along to "Bye Bye Bye" and dancing around his room so vigorously that he shook the ceiling in the living room below.

It was then Tucker barged into his room.

"Andrew! Andrew!" Andrew was oblivious to everything but Justin Timberlake's voice.

Tucker stormed over to Andrew, snapping his left headphone squarely against his ear.

"Ow!" Andrew screamed. After realizing that Tucker had seen him shimmying around, he quickly threw the Discman and headphones onto the bed.

"The hell you listening to?" Tucker asked. He pulled out the CD, too quick for Andrew to stop him. "N*Sync? Again? Don't you know that's girls' shit?"

"Well, uh…" Andrew stammered. "I, um…have this friend who lent it to me. He, um…wanted me to listen to it."

"Jesus, Andrew," Tucker said as he rolled his eyes. "You know, you can borrow my Limp Bizkit or Metallica CDs when I'm not using them. But for God's sake, you're sixteen years old now – stop listening to boy bands. And take down their stupid posters!"

"OK," Andrew said, hyperventilating. "Y-you're right. I'll, uh…borrow that Limp Bisquick CD from you tonight."

"Bizkit," Tucker sighed as he turned to leave. He stopped and turned to Andrew. "Look, even if you do listen to this N*Sync shit, at least have the decency not to dance around to it. Someone might think you're a fag." He shook his head and slammed the door behind him.

Andrew fell into his computer chair, relieved – Tucker just thought he was being immature. Still, he knew he had to bury himself deeply in the closet. If Tucker did found out, it would be all over the neighborhood and he would be tormented even worse than he already was.

So Andrew spent the night redecorating his room, transforming the look from "questioning teen male" to "geek chic."