```````````````
Someday My Prince Will Come
Chapter 3
``````````````
It was a bright morning. Jack sprung out of bed and into the shower.
'New semester!' He cheered internally. Recalling how Will's vacation was longer than his was, he smiled. 'I hope he doesn't get into trouble while Im in school.' Jack finished washing his hair and rinsed down. Shutting off the water, Jack hastened into his clothes and raced down the stairs. He was about to grab a bagel and leave, when he noticed his parents had been in the middle of an argument.
Upon seeing their son in the doorway, the two ceased and began their morning routines. Jack raised an eyebrow but quickly lost interest. Had they been arguing about him? If it was his own fault they were in such a place, he would have made an effort to make things better. But they weren't saying anything else, so he quickly dropped that notion.
"Bye mom." He said, picking up his folder and bag. As bright as the morning was, the cold was unrelenting. In a fast walk, Jack cut through the park, eager to have the warmth of the school building around him.
A touch of excitement graced his fine features. Everything was going great. And the semester would no doubt be a good one. He was only hoping however, blind optimism was one of his faults.
'Its going to be a great day!' Jack predicted as he did almost every morning. Doing this gave him a sense of hope and assurance. But now that he had a close friend, it made him all the more hopeful. He couldn't wait to see Will again. He thought about all the fun he and Will had over the vacation.
**flashback**
"God Will, you're like a freakin' sausage on the dance floor!" Jack exclaimed jokingly as Will struggled to move in the way he had instructed him.
"Sausage?"
"Yea. You're supposed to sizzle like bacon!" He smiled and began to move. Will stood back, and watched his friend shift back and forth in his dorm, freely using his arms whenever necessary. He made it look so easy, dancing with an elegance so subtle and appropriate for the genre of music they were practicing to.
"Now you go." Jack said, and gestured to his friend.
"I can't." Will said, a bit tired. "Can't we do something else?"
"You're giving up." Jack stated in shock.
"Im not. Its just-"
"No. We are going to resume training!" Jack said with exaggerated jurisdiction. He pulled out a record from his bag.
"What is that?" Will asked, peering over his friend's shoulder.
"Some salsa, cumbia and merenge. Its easy stuff. You should be able to do this." Jack said and put it in the record player. "If you can dance to this, you'll definitely be able to dance to other things."
The music started and Jack began; putting both hands on his hips, the teenager moved back and forth with a flawless rhythm, shaking his hips slightly at the right moments.
"Its simple; three steps forward, three steps back, and all you gotta do is shake your booty a little in between!"
"This is what, salsa?" Will asked as he tried to mirror his companion's movements.
"Merenge. The easiest Latin dance ever!" Jack said, a little frustrated that Will wasn't stepping in time. His steps were awkward, he looked pained and he wasn't shaking his booty! Jack sighed and watched him a little.
"You are so tense Will. You have to relax and feel the music."
A look of pure misery crossed Will's face as he said that.
"I can feel it just fine. Its just this music!"
Jack gasped dramatically.
"Never blame 'el baile!'" Jack snapped his fingers in a Spanish ole' style and frowned. "You got to let the music get inside you. Listen to the way the drums beat, and the melody. Let the beat hit your spine and make it move!" He screeched and gestured for Will to try again.
"Its too hard." Will said in a strange tone. "Let me see it again."
Jack sighed and did it again, but slower.
"How come you look good when you do it?" Will asked, an innocent look of frustration on his face.
"Uh, I-" Jack stuttered, heat rising to his cheeks. "Its all in the back and hips."
"Hm." Will practiced in place, moving his hips.
"Its kinda like a belly-dance, but a very, very easy one. Your hips move as your feet do, and you have to put some spice to it!" Jack halted to give Will the space.
"Okay... " Will did it slowly, putting one foot in front of the other and mimicking his friend's hip movements. All the while Jack tried not to giggle, watching as Will attempted to put the 'spice' in the dance that he'd asked for. Will did it a few times, then looked expectantly at Jack.
"Good. Better than before. But I still don't think you're into the music enough." Jack's face turned serious, and he looked at the wall. "You have to be there, with the bands playing the song, in that party that they're singing about... let it take over you... you know?"
They were quiet for a little while, listening to the song end.
"Its a girl their singing about." Will said.
"What?"
"I take it you don't understand Spanish." Will grinned.
"So? I thought they always sang about parties in their dance songs." Jack pondered.
"Well, in American Latin songs they sing about parties a lot. But most of the time they sing about love. You should really look into it." Will sighed and sat on his bed.
"How do you know what they're saying?"
"Took Spanish all through high school. Still taking it now." Will said and lied back on the mattress.
"So, I guess you're tired." Jack sighed and collected his things. "I'll leave my record here, so you can practice, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks Jack." Will smiled.
**end flashback**
The blue eyed boy neared the end of the park, spying a jogging man trample over a bed of flowers as he passed.
'God what a jerk.'
````
Jack climbed the stairs and opened the doors to the school building. As he entered, many students faces raised up. Oblivious to their probing eyes, Jack continued towards his locker. People were surprisingly still and quiet; he heard several whispers whirl around him as he walked. As he moved, their eyes met him; almost glaring. Jack frowned; they were glaring at him.
Suddenly the hall seemed much longer. He walked a bit faster, trying to ignore the whispers. 'What are they whispering about?!' Jack thought, a nervous feeling augmenting in his chest. He could barely make out some of it;
"Oh my god"
"I bet he-"
"Can you believe it?"
Jack sighed and stood before his locker, mind wandering back to his friend. It was becoming more than just a crush, he could tell. It was an intrinsic feeling of admiration and fondness ; and it kept growing with each moment he spent with the confused and hesitant college student. Shaking out of his dreamy state, he stared down at the lock, and began to enter the combination. As he unlocked it, a large shadow hovered behind him. Jack turned around.
Slam! His back met the locker with torrid force, causing him to drop his bag and folder. He opened his eyes and noticed he was pinned unceremoniously against the metal surface, by a disdainful looking senior. As quickly as he was slammed into the lockers, he was thrown to the ground.
"Goddamn faggot!" The boy snarled.
Jack went rigid as that caustic word hit him, sinking into his skin. He tried to gather up his things; frantically grabbing for his scattered papers. The leering upper class-man stood by, kicking away at his belongings. As Jack's gaze rose to meet his aggressor's, he noticed a crowd forming.
A number of athletes and regular students alike, massed against him; their contemptuous sneers all grouped together. James' face was among them. Feeling a dull terror building inside him, the boy stayed planted on the ground.
"He probably gave it to that kid at Jackson High!" Rang a voice from the crowd.
"Yea." The towering youth in front of Jack said with disgust. "You spreading your disease, fairy?"
"Wh-what?" Jack's eyes went wide.
"He is, he is!" Another voice called.
"You plan on giving us all AIDS?" The senior before him asked harshly. Jack's face went white.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, and felt his mouth dry up.
"He's gonna give it to us!" A girl chided.
"No, no, its not true, I don't have-" As he tried to stand, another senior emerged from the crowd and poured a bag full of lipsticks and maxipads over him.
"Of course you do!" Another athlete jeered, shoving him back against the lockers.
"All faggots are getting what they deserve."
"Now you want to spread it to us? Keep your virus to yourself!"
"... no... I don't, I haven't even-" Jack brought a hand to his face, feeling his body begin to shake. He wanted to cry. He needed to cry. But he couldn't cry in front of these people. He couldn't let them know that he was being hurt.
'What's happening?' He asked himself, fighting the urge to breakdown in front of his peers.
"I think he's gonna cry."
"He knows he's done wrong!"
"God is punishing all fags."
"Yea, don't punish us with it!"
The harassment ground on. Desperately, Jack searched the crowd for someone that could help him, someone who would demur what these people were accusing him of. But there was no one.
He saw Liz from drama; an impassive look on her face. He saw James participating in the mockery. He saw many who had spoken to him before, in geniality. But now their faces were muddled and mixed with the hate the crowd was emitting.
The bell rang.
``````
Jack was late to first period. Having been denied the time to retrieve his new schedule, the boy stumbled into class, to meet the hard and hateful stares of his drama class. As he walked in a girl stuck her leg out to trip him. 'This is gonna be a long day.' Jack despaired. His teacher assigned the new seating chart, placing Jack's seat in front of James.
'Heavenly.' Jack thought dismally and waited for the class to end.
Second period was history class. His former study buddies chose a new transfer student to replace him. The teacher moved him to the front of the classroom where everyone could stare and freely talk trash. Jack could feel their eyes on him, and he groaned. Third period was english where kids dramatically distanced themselves for fear of catching his 'disease.' Fourth period was life science; where his lab partner abandoned him, and requested another one. And the teacher's ineptitude gave the students the freedom to torture him for the duration of the class.
'It was better being ignored.' Jack thought, frozen in his seat. Hardly a stranger to ridicule, Jack could not understand or handle the magnitude of the hate and anger he had today.
At lunch, Jack fled to the roof choosing to evade the cafeteria; which provided an arena like atmosphere. Perfect for berating a student. He sat on the ground, staring hard at the horizon.
Fifth period was math. He trudged inside, still hungry from avoiding lunch, and sat down. The class was quicker than expected, and Jack hurried off to gym class.
As soon as Jack went into the boys' locker room, he knew he was in for something. He opened his locker and jumped back as a load of more feminine products poured out, littering the ground.
Several neighboring boys chuckled amongst themselves, obviously the culprits. Jack glared and reached inside for his gym clothes. As soon as he had changed, he ran outside for roll call.
"Four laps!" Barked the teacher and the students were off to the football field. Jack considered running like that a great waste of time and energy. So he just walked like he always had, ignoring the screaming coach on the sidelines. He was already exhausted. Boys laughed and slapped him hard on the back each time they lapped him.
Gym was his worst class. He was thankful when it was over.
`````
Jack had never run so fast in his life. As soon as the final bell rang, he made a desperate break to avoid what after school torment any other kids had in store for him. Down the hill he raced, his legs pumping madly. His P.E. Coach would have been proud.
He crossed the park, escaping the seniors who began circling the area in their cars. Clutching his bag close, he simply ran; past the shops on the corner, past Noah and Frank's apartment complex, past the elementary school, past his gate, through the door, up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he collapsed on the ground beside his door. Where he finally surrendered and shattered into a violent fit of tears and sobs.
'Why is this happening?' Jack pulled at his hair, and ran a fist into his bag beside him. 'Why is this happening to me?'
The fear was unbearable. The dread that enveloped him was unbearable. Being punished for something he was not a part of, made him cry harder. Why would such a thing happen, when he was so sure things were going perfectly?
It was supposed to be a good day. He promised himself it would be.
"Why is this happening?!" He asked the ceiling, and continued to cry into the carpet.
`````````