"So, what's the deal with Cowboy, anyway?" Spot asked as he and Race walked toward English class. "I mean, how can he get away with frickin' everything?" Racetrack shrugged.

"Because he rules the school. Anything he says, goes. He's even got the faculty wrapped around his finger," Race said, holding up said digit in demonstration. Spot frowned.

"Well, we'll have to change that, won't we?" he said with a grin. Race opened his mouth to agree, but a light bulb apparently went off in his head, because he yelped, "Shit! I forgot to print my paper!"

"Do you want me to come with you?" Spot called as Race dashed up the stairs.

"Nah, you go ahead!" Race shouted back. Spot turned to face the hallway, and took a few hesitant steps, as if prepared to be mauled by rabid rainbow boys.

Though Spot would not admit it, Race had become his unofficial body guard in the short time he had spent with him. Spot depended on Race's protection to keep molesters away, and now that he didn't have it, he felt naked…

…in a school full of lustful gay boys.

However, most of the boys had figured out that he was off-limits—either he was straight, or Race had laid claim to him. Though Spot didn't like the idea of the latter, he wasn't complaining. As long as nobody grabbed his ass—

"What the—?"

Spot was slammed up against the lockers, Cowboy's face grinning back at him. He opened his mouth to say something nasty, but that was probably his worst move. With his left hand, Jack tilted his head up and pressed his lips against Spot's his tongue invading Spot's mouth.

Jack's right hand found Spot's ass and gave it a squeeze before running down his thigh. His hand pulled his leg up as it moved, and he stopped with his hand hooked under his knee, the inside of his thigh pressed against his own leg.

Spot whimpered and Jack grinned against his lips. Spot cursed Jack Kelly and every family member he ever had, or would have, as horrible memories came to the surface, triggered by Jack's assault.

Just when Spot thought he was going to suffocate under Cowboy's mouth, Jack pulled away from him. Instead, he tackled Spot's neck, sucking on delectable curves and crevices he deemed worthy of such actions.

"You…bastard," Spot hissed. Cowboy bit on his neck, and Spot winced in a mix cause of disgust, pain, and the fact that he was probably going to have ten hickeys in the morning. "Get the fuck away from me!" Spot shouted. He punched Cowboy in the gut, slammed his foot down on Jack's, punched him in the nose, and kneed him in the groin.

"Keep your paws off of me, Cowboy!" he shouted, shoving Jack to the floor.

"What happened?" Spot looked up and saw Race staring from Spot to Jack."This man-slut frickin' assaulted me!" Spot exclaimed. Race grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd that had formed around Jack. He dragged Spot into an empty classroom.

"What happened?" Race muttered. Spot made a face and wrapped his arms around his thin body.

"Cowboy made up a new game. It's a mix between Grabass and Let's-See-How-Far-I-Can-Shove-My-Tongue-Down-Spot's-Throat."

Spot was so freaked, he was literally shaking. Race noticed this and exclaimed, "You're white!" Spot looked at him, helplessly, and Racetrack pulled him into a tight hug.

Spot buried his face in Race's neck as hot tears began to fill his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Race's waist and sobbed into his shoulder. When he pulled away, Race gave him an assuring smile and squeezed his hands.

"Come on. Denton won't miss us."

"Where're we going?" Spot demanded, following Race out the back door.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures: we're getting ice cream." Spot stopped and stared at him. Race grabbed his hand and hissed, "Someone will see you!"

"Ice cream? That's your brilliant plan? I figured you'd call your mafia family and get them to take Cowboy out!" Race grinned, amused at the idea of a mafia family.

"They're on Vacation," he replied, flippantly. "Just trust me. It's the best ice cream in the world. You'll feel much better. And then you'll be kissing my feet and praising me for my almightiness." Spot snorted and climbed into the passenger seat of Race's truck, a beat up red Dodge with a diesel engine that sang like an angel.

"Over my dead and brutally beaten body," Spot chuckled. Racetrack grinned.

"That can be arranged," he replied, exaggerating his Italian accent. Spot laughed and propped his feet up on the dash board.

"So, where're we going?" he asked, giving Race a sideways glance. Race shifted gears before answering.

"Maggie Moo's. Best ice cream around. Better, even, than Ben & Jerry's." Spot sat up.

"Nobody is as good as Ben & Jerry!" he exclaimed.

"Maggie Moo's is. More flavors…Fresher ingredients…" Race licked his lips. "It's the best place for a cute date." Spot shuddered at the thought and Race's smile vanished. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine. It's just…I'm just weirded out, that's all," Spot said, finally. Race nodded in understanding and pulled into the parking lot. He turned off the car and pulled out the keys.

"Well, everything will be fine in a minute. You're about to experience perfection in it's coldest form."