(06) At Ralph's House

Ralph closed his eyes and slowly sat up, well aware of his classmates' gazes upon him, despite his inability to see. He didn't know what had happened then, what had occurred between Jack and himself. He just knew that it had been something . . . wonderful.

"But then he jumped away because of me," he thought bitterly. "Ironic, though, isn't it? He was the one who was hitting on me, but now that I show the slightest bit of . . . interest, he runs away."

Ralph opened his eyes and stared at Jack, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze.

'That obviously proves that you weren't listening, Mr. Merridew,' Mr. Penting said suddenly, using a loud enough voice for everyone to hear. 'I want another 500-word essay. This time on the importance of listening.'

'Yes, sir,' Jack replied automatically, staring at the ground.

'Good, then let us continue, and be sure to listen this time, Mr. Merridew. You must pay attention as well, Mr. Macpherson.'

'Yes, sir,' the two teens responded in unison.

Throughout the rest of the lesson, Ralph was just able to survive without "showing his interest" again. It was pure agony on his part to be partnered with Jack after that incident, especially since the day's lesson consisted of very close contact between the two of them.

It came of an immense relief to Ralph when the period finally ended. He hastily ran out of the gym and into the change room. Then he went off to his next (and final) class.

-

'What was that about?' Lee asked Jack as the two of them, plus Terry, made their way to their fifth period class—English with Miss Nightingale. (Thank God they didn't have Mr. Lyori for that class.)

'What are you talking about?'

'In gym class. What happened between you and Ralph?'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he lied, shrugging his shoulders. In truth, he himself had been wondering what happened. It was as if their very environment had disappeared, and only he and Ralph had remained. The moment, though fleeting, had been extremely intense. It seemed to last for a lifetime, yet not long enough. But then Jack had felt a certain something on his leg and he leapt away, more out of shock and reflex than actual willingness.

Could Ralph actually be interested in him? Did their short time together (after being apart for so long) make such an immense difference? It was too much to hope for, and yet . . . it seemed to make sense!

'Okay, I lied,' Jack admitted, promptly dropping his books on the ground. He leaned over to pick them up. 'I know what you're talking about, Lee, and I honestly don't know what happened. It was like . . . like . . . Argh!' Jack growled. He hastily gathered the rest of his belongings and fled to his English class.

'You can't run away from us, Jack!' Terry called after him. 'We're in the same fucking class!'

'And we know where you live!' Lee added.

Jack ignored them and continued to run, not stopping until he reached the classroom, where he sat down in his usual seat at the back of the class.

'You are quite early today, Jack,' Miss Nightingale (one of the very few teachers in the school who actually had the decency to call the students by his first name) observed approvingly, for he was usually late for class and it was something that greatly annoyed her. 'Class does not start for another three minutes.'

'Yeah, I know,' Jack replied.

'Hey, Jack!' Lee called as he and Terry rushed into the room and took their seats on either side of Jack.

'You are early as well?' Miss Nightingale inquired of the two newcomers. 'I'm impressed.'

'Hi, miss,' Terry grunted.

'Oh, hello, Miss Nightingale,' Lee responded shortly before returning his attention back to his friend. 'You didn't have to run away like that, you know. We just wanted to talk to you.'

'Yeah,' Terry said. 'We wanted to know what happened between you two in the gym.'

No matter how dumb he seemed sometimes, Jack had a tendency to forget that Terry did have a brain.

'We were just . . . looking at each other,' he said sheepishly.

'It was much more than that, man,' Lee said. 'You know it was.'

Under his friend's fierce, confident gaze, Jack nodded.

'Yeah, it was,' he admitted quietly.

'You already told us as much,' Terry said.

'No, he didn't!' Lee protested. 'All he said was, "It was like . . . like . . .". Then he turned around and bolted!'

'Oh yeah, right.'

'What's going on?' Fred asked, joining in the conversation as he sat down in the desk in front of Jack. 'You guys seem really into your argument.'

'Just a little something that happened in gym class,' Jack muttered, avoiding the other teen's gaze.

'A ­little something!' Terry exclaimed, almost tearing his hair out now. 'Fred, man, you should have seen it!'

'Seen what?' Fred questioned interestedly. 'What happened?'

'Just bugger off,' Jack mumbled. 'It wasn't important.'

Fred paled slightly.

'This will affect the bet, won't it?' he inquired. 'And it's probably in Jack's favour.'

'Why would you say that?' Lee immediately asked.

'Well, firstly, you don't look very happy. Just . . . confused or something. Terry is practically pissing himself with joy. And Jack seems . . . flustered. It just—'

'Wait a minute,' Jack said, holding his hand up in the air, stopping Fred in mid-sentence. Something had just clicked in his head. 'Did you guys bet on me, too!'

Terry smiled mischievously.

'But I bet for you, mate,' he said. 'Can't say the same for Freddy here though. He sided with Lee.'

'It's not that I don't have any faith in you, Jack,' Fred said quickly, catching the narrowed glares Jack was giving him. 'I just . . . I just thought that Ralph guy seemed a bit . . .'

'What? A bit what?' Jack demanded.

'Well, distant with you, really. You two knew each other before, and I guessed that you didn't separate on a good note or whatever . . . You two weren't exactly buddy-buddy when I saw you together.'

"Fuck! Why does Fred have to be so damn receptive of everything!"

'I need the cash, man!' Fred said earnestly, as if trying to justify his actions.

'Fine. Whatever,' Jack replied, just as the bell rang to signal the start of class. 'Do whatever you fucking want. I'll prove you wrong though, Fred—you and Lee both. I'll win him over in a week's time. I'll have him thoroughly fucked. I'm already getting on his good side, and it's only been a day's time!'

'But what will you do with him after the week's over?' Terry asked him quietly. 'Dump him just like you did all the others?'

Jack's automatic response to that should have been "yes", but his brain seemed to be malfunctioning.

'I don't know,' he responded instead. 'If he's a good fuck, I don't see why I should. Maybe I can stick around for a while, at least until I get bored with him. I'm the slut of the gang, remember, Ter? I'll know what's good.' His answer seemed so cold and heartless, but he was feeling quite the opposite from that. In truth, it was just a cover-up to save his rep. However, Terry's would-be innocent question got him thinking. What would he do with Ralph after the week was up?

"There's time to think about that later," he mentally reassured himself. "I'll decide that when the time comes. In the meantime, I have the little meeting with Ralph after school to look forward to. Hehehe . . ."

-

Ding dong!

Ralph leapt up from his desk chair, jumped over a pile of clothes littering the ground, and hurried downstairs to open the front door, for his mother and father were at work and he was alone in the house.

'Jack!' he exclaimed in disbelief. 'What are you doing here?'

In reply, Jack waved a pile of papers in front of his face.

'Duh! The math assignment!' the other teen replied.

Ralph smacked himself on the head.

'Sorry, I completely forgot,' he said, stepping aside to let Jack enter the warmth of the house.

'You forgot!' Jack cried out, dumping his stuff on the floor. 'How could you forget? It was your idea to meet after school in the first place!' He was obviously in a very bad mood. His cheeks were pink from the winter cold and his hands were trembling, for he had no hat, scarf, or gloves. Also, his jacket was too small. Ralph vaguely wondered how Jack could afford to go to such a fine school, yet he was unable to afford some decent outdoor-wear.

'Look, I'm sorry,' Ralph muttered, closing the door and locking out the chill wind.

'Now you're sorry!' Jack scoffed. 'I was waiting in the library for over an hour!'

'Sorry!' Ralph said again. 'I was . . . distracted.'

'By what happened back in the gym?' Jack inquired, though he already knew the answer to that.

Ralph closed his eyes.

'You felt it, too?' he asked quietly.

'Mmm-hmm . . .' Jack replied, shrugging out of his coat and throwing it onto a nearby chair. 'I also felt . . . something else.'

The other teen's eyes bugged out slightly and he felt a hot blush creep up his cheeks.

'Yes, well, let's get work on this math assignment, shall we?' Ralph said brightly, trying to steer the topic of conversation off to a safer direction. 'Just bring your shit down the hall, to the kitchen. We'll work there. I'll just go up and get my stuff from my room.'

'Why don't we just work there?' Jack asked.

"Because I don't feel comfortable being alone with you in my bedroom after what happened in gym class," Ralph thought, but he obviously didn't tell his companion that.

'The light's better in the kitchen,' he replied lamely, and Jack shrugged. 'Okay, I'll be right back.' He bounded up the stairs to his room, where he promptly tripped over a pile of dirty clothes. 'Fuck!' he cursed.

'Hey, Ralph! Are you all right?' Jack called from downstairs. 'It sounded like an elephant just sat down.'

'I'm fine,' Ralph replied loudly, wondering why Jack had used that particular phrase. It wasn't exactly one that was commonly used. But then again, this was Jack Merridew!

Ralph hastily stood up and gathered his homework. Then he headed back downstairs, taking great care to avoid the mound of clothing and making a mental note to pick it up later. He gingerly limped down the steps and made his way to the kitchen, where Jack was waiting for him.

-

'Hey,' Jack greeted Ralph vaguely, not looking at him. His hand zoomed across the page as he hastily wrote his concluding sentence, trying to catch up with Ralph. Then again, it wasn't exactly his fault he was so far behind with their workload.

As if Ralph read his thoughts, the former said, 'Sorry I didn't meet you in the library. If you want, I can help you out a bit with the work.'

'Tempting offer, but then you'd be doing more than I did,' Jack replied. Really, that wasn't the reason he was refusing. Who cared if Ralph did more work? No, really it was because he would feel inferior if he needed Ralph to take up on him like that.

'Are you sure? Because I feel kind of bad.'

'Forget about it. While I was at the library, I finished my essay for Mr. Penting, so I should be aight with this math shit. We still have another day, after all.'

'Suit yourself,' Ralph said, shrugging and sitting down beside Jack. He took out his math assignment and began to work.

-

An hour later, they were still going at it. If the 200-question math assignment had been something they actually knew how to do, they probably would have been done long ago, but their stupid teacher had to assign something completely new to them, which resulted in a lot of looking up, erasing, and re-writing. Their pages were filledalmost top-to-bottom with smudge marks from their pencils.

'Is Mr. Piddy always like this?' Ralph asked grudgingly, erasing his entire answer and starting over.

'Always like what?'

'Does he always give such difficult work?'

'Actually, yeah,' Jack replied, 'but never this much. He's just trying to impress that evaluator by showing he doesn't take any crap from his students.'

'Evaluator? Was that that woman sitting at the back?'

'Uh-huh,' Jack said, smiling as he finally completed another question. 'He's just trying to hard to impress her. This is his first year at this school, so he isn't exactly used to being evaluated by someone from the School Board since they don't do that at every school hereabouts. He's usually a nice guy though, even if he is boring and difficult.'

'How is he a nice guy then?' Ralph questioned, flipping through the pages of his textbook for some idea of how to do the question.

'Firstly, he's an easy marker and gives a lot of pity marks. Everyone likes those kind of teachers,' Jack responded as he copied the next question onto his lined paper. 'Secondly, he sometimes gives us candy and stuff. You know, as inspiration or whatever. And thirdly, whenever he screws up, he always makes it up to us somehow.'

'What do you mean?'

'Like if he accidentally tells us to do the wrong questions,' Jack replied. 'Or even this assignment can be called a screw-up. As soon as the evaluator is gone, he'd probably give us chocolate or something for coming down so hard on us.'

'You really think so?' Ralph asked, setting his pencil down on the table to rest his aching hand for a while.

'It's a possibility,' Jack responded, shrugging. 'And it's all I really have to look forward to.'

"Liar!" his mind protested. "Don't you remember what the bet's about? Who can get Ralph to sleep with him first! How can you not look forward to th—"

"I know, I know," he mentally interrupted, wondering vaguely why he was arguing with himself.

Jack glanced over at Ralph, who had started working again. He was hunched over his page and writing furiously, his dark eyes darting over his textbook briefly before returning to his paper.

"My, but he has beautiful eyes," Jack thought involuntarily. "So dark, so mysterious . . ."

"Stop thinking about his eyes!" yelled that annoying voice in Jack's head. "He's just like any other of your . . . victims. Just fuck the kid and be done with it!"

"Okay, I gotcha . . . But his eyes are so—"

"STOP IT! Just treat Ralph like everyone else!"

"But he's not like the everyone else! He's not like the others! He's different. He's Ralph, for fuck's sake!"

"Exactly, he's Ralph, so why are you thinking about him in this way?"

Jack couldn't find a reply to that, so he once again began to write.

-

A few hours later . . .

'Hey, Dad!' Ralph called from the kitchen, having heard the unmistakable humming of his father as the latter opened the front door. 'Can you help us with some of our math stuff over here!'

The humming stopped.

'Sorry, Ralph, I can't right now,' Mr. Macpherson replied, setting his briefcase down on the ground and kicking his shoes off. 'Ask your mother when she gets home.'

'But she's coming home late tonight!' Ralph protested. 'We need your help.'

'I'm sorry, sport, but I have business to attend to,' his father replied. He claimed his briefcase once more and headed upstairs.

'Big surprise,' Ralph muttered, shaking his head.

'Is he always this busy?' Jack asked quietly.

'Yeah,' Ralph replied. 'And his company makes us move around quite a bit. We never really stay in one place for too long.'

'Does that mean you might leave again?'

Ralph caught the earnest note in his companion's voice and vaguely wondered why it was there. Why would Jack care if he left?

'It's a definite possibility,' he responded. 'The longest we've ever stayed in one place was a year.'

"The year before the island incident," he thought.

'What's the shortest?' Jack inquired.

Ralph shrugged.

'I don't know . . . A month, maybe. Luckily, we hadn't completely unpacked by then.'

'A month!' Jack echoed, incredulous.

'Yeah. He gets moved around a lot, and he takes us with him because he doesn't want to leave us behind,' Ralph said, getting a clean sheet of paper out. 'I don't see why he bothers though. It's bloody annoying, and he never really spends time with us anyway. He's always gone before me and my mum wake up. When he comes home, he always goes straight to his office to work and is rarely seen until dinnertime. Sometimes we don't see him at all!'

'At least he's sober,' Jack mumbled, keeping his eyes locked on his paper.

'What?' Ralph asked.

'Never mind. Just forget it.'

The other teen shrugged.

'Whatever.'

'Hey, let's take a break for a bit,' Jack suggested. 'Let's go out and get a bite to eat or something.'

'Sure,' Ralph replied without hesitation. 'I'm famished.'

The two teens hastily gathered their books together and piled them neatly on the corner of the kitchen table.

'Come on,' Jack said, retrieving his coat and pulling it on. 'There's this great place I know of. It's called "Brown Cow".'

'Dare I ask why?' Ralph inquired amusedly, slipping his shoes on.

'Well, mainly because their specialties are milkshakes,' Jack replied, stepping into his shoes. 'But they serve burgers and pizza and stuff, too.'

'Sounds great. Let's go,' Ralph grabbed his house key from its hook beside the door, knowing that his father would probably be too busy to open it for him. 'Bye, Dad!' he yelled up the stairs. 'I'm going out for a bit!'

There was no reply.

Frowning slightly, Ralph followed Jack out the door and pulled it shut behind him.