AUTHOR'S NOTES: Now that summer has arrived, I have time to write! I'm also hard at work on my Lord of the Rings parody Lord of the Ringtones, coauthored with my friend ArcticWolf, so I'm dividing my time between that and this. For the record, I don't know how long a plane ride to Oslo would take, never having been on one. In addition, I'm having a rather unfortunate problem with my Internet service right now, so updates may be few and far between.

A NEW BEGINNING – CHAPTER TWO – OSLO

Charlie and Fulton dragged their luggage into their hotel room. The twenty-hour plane ride across four time zones had left the team tired, moody, and jetlagged. Charlie hoped he could use this as a reason for his quietness and general listlessness. But it wouldn't last long. Fortunately, he'd gotten Fulton for a roommate instead of Adam. Fulton didn't know him as well, and was far less likely to grill him about his behavior.

"This sure is nicer than the UCLA dorms," Fulton commented, shutting the door.

Charlie gave a mute nod in agreement.

"We should probably go to sleep," Fulton suggested. "Six AM's gonna come early."

"Yeah," Charlie concurred dispassionately.

The teammates readied themselves for bed. Charlie made sure to change in the bathroom. Fulton probably thought it strange-after all, they changed in front of each other in the locker room-but it was better than letting him see the bruises. Scott had given Charlie a whopper the day before they left. Hopefully, the mattress would be soft or sleeping would be decidedly painful.

"Good night, Captain Duck," Fulton said, reaching for the light.

"Mm-hm," Charlie said, lowering himself gingerly onto the bed. He exhaled with relief as he felt the softness of it. Good, now I'll just have to watch out for that bruise on my shoulder, he thought.

Fulton turned the light out, and Charlie pulled the covers over his head. He's not here, he's not here, he can't hurt me, he thought. He repeated it to himself over and over again. Even though he was thousands of miles away from Minnesota, Charlie had a terrible feeling Scott was waiting outside the door.

The still-jetlagged USA Ducks gathered for breakfast at six the next morning. The boys sat at the opposite end of the table from the girls, who were pumping Miss MacKay for details about her wedding.

"Is he cute?" Connie asked.

"I think so," Miss MacKay said, taking a bite of her bagel.

"What's his name?" Julie asked.

"Joshua O'Brien," Miss MacKay answered.

The girls all squealed. "That is such a romantic name!" Kaley gushed around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Miss MacKay laughed nervously. "I'll tell him you said so."

"What does he do?" Connie interjected.

"You mean his job?" At Connie's nod, Miss MacKay answered. "He's a pediatrician."

"Is he good?" Julie asked.

"He hasn't lost a patient yet," Miss MacKay answered. "At least, that's what he tells me."

"Enough, ladies, enough," Coach Bombay said. "Let Miss MacKay eat. You need to eat, too."

On the other end of the table, Portman, Fulton, and Luis were watching the girls with disgust.

"They're being such…girls," Fulton said.

Ken shrugged and picked up a piece of bacon. "They're allowed," he said. "They are girls."

"They don't usually act like this," Portman said.

"Weddings do strange things to women," Luis said. "Take it from me. When my sister Juanita got married, she lost her sense of humor and became all frantic. I love her, but man, she was a pain."

Charlie let out a slight yelp, and the guys turned to look at him. "You all right, Charlie?" Luis asked.

"Yeah," Charlie replied in a shaky voice. "I bumped into a door last night and got a bruise on my shoulder."

"Oh," Luis seemed satisfied with that. "All right."

"Ten more laps!" Gordon shouted. "Move it!"

The Ducks groaned, but obediently continued their laps.

"Gordon," Michele moved over to him. "Have you noticed how strangely Charlie's been acting while we've been here?"

Gordon focused on the red jersey in the middle. "No," he answered truthfully. Charlie had seemed  out of sorts when they were in Minnesota, but Gordon had not noticed strange behavior since then.

"He hasn't been himself this whole trip," Michele said. "He's been quiet and withdrawn. That's not like him, Gordon."

"Jet lag," Gordon suggested.

Michele shook her head. "No. He's not just tired, Gordon. Something's wrong. The jet lag isn't bothering anyone else nearly as much."

"Your female intuition is probably more reliable than my male oblivion," Gordon conceded.

"You know him better than I do," Michele said. "Are there problems at home? Are things all right between his mom and stepfather?"

Mom and stepfather…Gordon hoped his game face would hold up. "As far as I know, things are fine," he said. "Charlie's an emotional kid, Michele. I'm sure he'll come out of this."

Michele stood outside the cafeteria as the team finished dinner. She hadn't been satisfied with Gordon's answer of "he'll come out of this." She knew something was wrong, and she was determined to find out.

"Charlie?" Michele asked as the team exited. When the team's captain turned around, she beckoned him over to her. "Could I talk to you for a second?"

Charlie came over, looking wary. "Is this about math?" He asked. "I did my best."

Michele shook her head. "This has nothing to do with school, Charlie," she said, silently evaluating his condition. His eyes were shadowed and his skin abnormally pale. "Coach Bombay and I were noticing that you haven't really been yourself since we've gotten here. Is everything all right?"

Charlie nodded. The response seemed automatic, Michele thought. Too quick. "Are you having trouble in school?" She didn't think such was the case; she'd seen Charlie's grades.

"No," Charlie said.

Now for the tough question. Michele took a deep breath. "Are there any problems at home?"

Charlie tensed up. It was subtle, but noticeable. "No." The reply was toneless and insincere.

That sent off a warning bell in the tutor's brain. "OK," she said. "Go ahead, Charlie."

Charlie left, and Michele looked after him. She'd minored in psychology, and had a keen interest in child psychology. Charlie was demonstrating all the signs of an abused child. The thought made Michele cringe. What if it was true? What would happen?

"Oh, Charlie," she murmured. "We've got to get you out of there."