Thanks to Jacky Higgins for BETA-ing.

Spot sighed, heavily and stared at the brick building in front of him. Metal letters positioned high on the building spelled out Manhattan Prep School. His latest foster parents were sending him there in hopes of doing something about his lack of education, which his genetic parents hadn't cared to provide for him.

He shut his eyes then tucked a thumb under the strap of his messenger bag and took tentative steps inside.

The bell had started ringing, shrilly just as Spot stepped into the main hallway. To his left was a door that read 'office.' He stepped inside, knocking on the door as he opened it.

The secretary was a thin-faced woman with orange curls wearing a purple suit jacket and skirt. She smiled, sweetly, and said, "Hello. You're Mister Conlon?" Spot nodded.

"Yeah. My parents couldn't come. They had to work this morning," he apologized. She nodded understandingly, clicking on a computer. The printer started and she handed him the sheet of paper that the printer had emitted.

"This is your schedule. Can you find the rooms on your own, or would you like me to assign an escort to you?" she asked. Spot shook his head.

"I'll find it on my own, thanks," Spot assured her. He thanked her again and stepped out of the office, glancing at his schedule.

The bell rang, telling him that homeroom was over. His first period was History in M303. Spot began walking down the hall, checking room numbers on the way. The place was huge, and Spot had a sinking feeling that it would take a month before he figured out where he was going.

By the time he had reached the G corridor, students were crowding around him. Apparently, the school was tight-knit enough that they recognized a new kid when they saw one. Another thing he noticed, which his foster parents forgot to mention, was that it was a boys' school.

The third thing he noticed (or rather, he couldn't miss) was that catcalls and wolf-whistles pierced the air over the chatter of students.

Spot's slumped shoulders straightened up in shock as somebody slapped him on the ass, murmuring, "Hey, sexy!"

The speaker was a tall boy with brown eyes and dark blonde hair hanging in his face. He wore a black cowboy hat and a red bandana around his neck. He was good-looking, but Straight-As-An-Arrow Spot was more than a little freaked out at so openly being hit on.

"Just ignore him," another voice said. Spot jumped and spun around, his hands immediately flying to protect his ass.

"Hey, chill out! I'm not gonna smack you." The boy was short and somewhat stocky. Italian, he had nice coloring and dark hair. The look was completed with a cocky grin.

"That was Jack Kelly, named from Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick. He's nimble, he's quick, and you never see him until he's given you a pinch, or in your case, a smack. Most people refer to him as Cowboy." Spot decided not to touch that innuendo.

"I'm Spot Conlon," he said, once he officially decided that the boy wasn't going to hit on him. He smiled.

"Racetrack Higgins. Welcome to Homosexual High."