Tough.

That was one word that described Freddy Jones. He was no softy. He had never been. He was always the first one to step up to fight if someone said something. Of course, he knew when to hold it in, and when to let it out, and when to let it go with a few angry licks against the cymbals or base drum.

Drums.... He guessed they were one thing he was good at. One thing... since Dewey had come to town, he'd felt like something. He'd felt like he had something to go on, not like he was just floating around in space. Not like he was useless. Not like he was nothing.

Not like he was a good-for-nothing shit-head of a son who didn't deserve to live under the same roof as his father...

Thinking about this as the new sub passed out her math papers, Freddy turned to look at Zack Mooneyham. That dark hair was un-gelled and falling lightly into the boy's eyes. He blew softly upward, to force the hair away from his eyes as he concentrated on his math paper. Freddy knew he wasn't concentrating. He was waiting for that bell just as eagerly as Freddy was. He was just being more polite about it.

Freddy, Zack, Katie, Summer, they were all waiting for that bell. Waiting to run over to their REAL education. Their REAL school.

Their REAL Teacher.

Ever since Dewey had come, flipped them upside down, and turned them inside out... well, Freddy was seeing things differently. Of course his father was right, it was a worthless waste of time, and he should give it up. But somehow.... His heart wouldn't let him. Drums... Most people don't think they're for real. They take no skill.

Ha.

They take as much skill as any other instrument.

Without realizing it, Freddy was staring at Zack. Zack, sensing eyes on him, look up. Seeing it was Freddy, he dismissed the stomach-flop for hunger pains and sent him a small smile. Putting a hand under his desk, Zack also sent him a secret "Rock-On" sign. The slow, mischievous grin Freddy sent him was enough to give him another "hunger pain".

Freddy nodded at him, and stared at his math paper. Okay. He could handle busy-work for another fifteen minutes.

...

...

...

Okay, maybe he couldn't.

Finally, he just decided to stare at the damn paper until the bell. He thought about the first show. Damn, Zack could play. He ran circles around everyone else. That guitar and him would go places.

Unlike me... he thought to himself.

He turned the paper over, finding a blank side, and began to doodle. And then doodling turned into drawing. And then drawing turned into a full-fledged portrait of Summer, who happened to be sitting in front of him. Hell, it was something to do. So, he drew Summer, capturing her to perfection, even directly nailing the look of absolute boredom on the girl's face, and then stared down at his sketch in disgust.

Another stupid waste of time.

The bell rang, and he dashed up from his seat, crumpling the paper as he rocketed out the door.

Oh well.

Catching up with Zack, he tapped the boy on the shoulder. Zack stopped and immediately went rigid.

"Hey dude, wassup? You okay, man?" Freddy asked, concerned about his friend's obvious fear. Zack immediately relaxed.

"Yeah, I'm cool. You just scared me." he turned his dark eyes towards Freddy's own, and Freddy let himself become entranced in their depths. It was too easy to loose yourself in those eyes. Just let your heart wander in their darkness forever and you'll be content. At least this was Freddy's notion. He wasn't so sure he'd like anyone else to be lost in there with him, either.

"Uh... Freddy? You awake, man?" Zack was a little uneasy, being so close to... Freddy? Since when did the drummer affect him like this?

Since forever, maybe...

Shaking that thought away, he tried to remove the uneasiness as well. They walked in silence, simply enjoying one another's company for awhile. Soon, they were in a heated discussion about whether Alice In Chains was metal or grunge, and without realizing it, got closer and closer to one another.

That is, until Freddy's hand touched Zack's.

And sparks of something went straight down Zack's spine.

And Freddy's heart almost rammed right into his ribs.

Both had stopped talking. Zack turned to look at Freddy, and found the boy staring straight back. Only one thought ran through both their heads:

Did he feel it, too?

Clearing his throat and breaking eye-contact, Freddy continued the sentence he had stopped in the middle of, and the conversation went back to normal.

Well, almost back to normal.

The only differences being Zack's inability to look Freddy in the eye, Freddy's new shade of red, and their hands...

Which, the entire time, had not moved an inch.

***

"Alright," Dewey was saying to the band, "Great job today. But, unfortunately, I'll get in trouble if I keep you little punks here any longer. So scram."

Zack began packing up his guitar, a little more distracted than usual. Well, a lot more distracted than usual. Okay, the guy wouldn't know it if a train just ran through the building. Which is why he was quite surprised when a chair he hadn't realized he'd picked up fell from his hands and onto his foot.

"OW! Awe shit, that hurt!" He moaned, hopping on one foot for a moment.

"I'll bet. Somethin' up, Mooneyham?" came Dewey's voice from behind him.

"Huh? Oh, no, everything's fine. Thanks for askin' though, Dewey."

Turning around to pick up his guitar case, Zack's shirt rode up a bit, and Freddy saw a large purple-ish bruise on the small of his back.

What the... Freddy thought as Zack strode out the door, carrying his guitar case.

Freddy resolved to call him later. That was a nasty bruise.