Charlie walked back to the dorms with Averman, his roommate. "Glad you're back, man." Averman said. "There's a monster in my closet. I swear to God it's gonna eat me. Now you're back it can eat you, giving me ample time to run away screaming like a girl."
Charlie decided that Averman was probably the best person to be around at the moment. Charlie was feeling a little strange, his emotions couldn't seem to settle, one minute he was happy – Bombay had come to see him, Bombay did still care about him – the next he was completely screwed up – Bombay wasn't staying, it was just a quick-fix visit, Fulton seemed to be avoiding him – made especially apparent by the way he had skated off at the speed of light while Bombay was still talking. Averman's bizarre way of talking would work well to keep him happy for a bit longer. It was just that…
He wanted to talk to Fulton. If it had been anyone else, he would have just resigned himself to the fact that he had lost faith in another supposed constant in his life, but Fulton was different. He had come after him repeatedly, unlike Bombay who turned up when the crisis was reaching fever pitch, "fixed" everything and left again without bothering to check if everyone really was fixed. And the whole reason that things were awkward probably needed some addressing. He hadn't meant to kiss Fulton, he wasn't sure why he had, he wasn't into guys. Or at least, he didn't think so. God, there was a scary thought: if it got around the Ducks that he was into guys, his whole friendship with Bombay would be called into question. At the moment they had all privately psychologised him and decided that he wanted a father figure, but if the Ducks found out that he had kissed a guy they might start thinking differently.
But he wasn't into guys. Was he? He wasn't sure. He liked Fulton, sure. But in a guy way, hanging out together, eating junk food, playing hockey, not in a girly way, holding hands, kissing… but he had liked the kiss.
"Can you like a kiss, but not the person in question?" He asked, then was a little shocked that he'd said it out loud.
Averman gave him an odd look, thought awhile, then swatted him lightly around the head. "I'm the random one, not you." Averman turned to a clump of Ducks further ahead. "Mendoza! Shimmy your Latin butt over here. Conway's getting romantic with me!"
Charlie was mortified by Averman's casual words.
Luis dropped back from the group. "What are we talking about?"
"Charlie just asked a very philosophical question and I think you're the best person to redirect it to." Averman responded. When it became apparent to him that Charlie was incapable of speech, he added, "he wants to know if you can enjoy making out, even if you don't particularly lust after the person in question."
Luis nodded. "That's a resounding hell yes. A friend of mine threw an end of summer party just before I came to Eden, it got a little silly and we started playing spin the bottle. I had to make out with this horrible girl from my old school, you know the type, absolute bubble-head, nothing between her ears except vast space and the odd tumbleweed. But wow! That girl could certainly kiss." He turned to Charlie, "Why do you ask?"
Charlie thought for a moment. "Well, Averman's into drama, I was really asking him if he enjoyed making out with Cassie in Romeo and Juliet last year."
"Uck, no. Too much spit." Averman replied.
This spawned a conversation between Averman and Luis, evaluating all kisses to date. Naturally, Luis' kiss-list was a lot longer than Averman's. Charlie didn't bother to participate, just nodded and smiled at the right places while his thoughts whirled on.
Well, that was ok then, Luis – who seemed to be an expert in this department – said that you could enjoy a kiss without lusting after the person in question. That meant that the kiss probably didn't mean much. He wasn't sure why it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. It had felt right then, all crystal clear and shiny-like, but now it seemed like a very stupid thing to do. There were too many repercussions to go kissing someone just because it made sense at that particular moment in time. Especially when that person was a guy.
What he ought to do was get a girlfriend. That way he could kiss her any time he wanted with none of this swirling confusion. And the key syllable there was girl. He wasn't into guys, he really wasn't into Fulton, they were just friends. Friends who had accidentally kissed. With no feelings in there at all. It was fine.
"I thought Conway might be getting lusted up over someone," Luis was saying when Charlie shut his brain down and rejoined the conversation. "Seems quite a few people are pairing up now. Connie and Guy are giving it 'one last try' –" at this point, all three of them snickered. Connie and Guy broke up often, sometimes more than once a week, and then a few days later, when the injured party had cooled down, they would agree to give it 'one last try'. " – I'm seriously considering actually dating someone, rather than just fooling around, and Fulton's gone and got himself a girlfriend."
"You're considering settling down?" Averman asked in outrage, but Charlie wasn't listening. His heart had leapt into his throat when he heard that Fulton was dating a girl. No feelings about that kiss, eh? His mind mocked him. It was guilt, he told himself. Guilt that he had kissed someone that was already dating someone else. That was all.
Averman was begging Luis to tell him who this mystery girl was who had had such an impact on Luis as to make him consider steady dating rather than quick flings, but Luis was refusing to say.
"Who's Fulton dating?" He asked over the din of Averman's melodramatic pleadings.
"Tiny girl, very tiny. Looks like she should still be in middle school, purple hair, blue eyes, Irish accent. Cute, if you like dating anime characters. I think he called her Terri." Luis replied. "He said they met in the hallway and got into detention together some time last week. She brings him cookies, it's disgustingly sweet."
"That is sweet." Averman agreed. "We should put a stop to it immediately. We are manly men!"
Luis gave him a look. "Well, I am. Not sure about you two."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Averman asked in mock-outrage. "I'm very manly, I'll have you know."
"Averman, you like drama and poetry. You're such a girl."
"I am not!" Averman responded. "But I've been meaning to ask, does my ass look big in these pants?"
"Russ Tyler, please stay a moment," Miss Biggs, Russ's English teacher, called out just as everyone else jumped to their feet to head out. It was the last class of the day and he groaned to himself and took his time shoving his books into his backpack. He didn't have any plans that afternoon and he wanted to spend it anywhere but stuck inside a stuffy (and pretentious, good use of a vocabulary word) classroom.
He didn't even know what he'd done wrong.
Miss Biggs tapped a handful of papers on the desk and motioned for Russ to hurry up. He swung his bag over one shoulder and slumped up the aisle. He tried hard to figure out what he'd done this time. He didn't think anyone knew about the pranks the team had played on Varsity, and even if they were busted, Miss Biggs wasn't his advisor nor in charge of any of the dorms.
"Don't look so worried," Miss Biggs said and laughed. "You're not in trouble." Russ breathed a sigh of relief; when he relaxed, he realized how tense he'd been.
"What's up then?"
She tapped the papers again, placed them on the centre of her desk, and pulled off the top sheet. "Your mock article was very good," she said. "You packed in a lot of information and made it interesting. When the teachers met with the Board to discuss giving an entire hockey team scholarships, I don't think anyone thought about how awkward it would be for both the new team and the old. You did a good job making me see your point of view."
"Thanks." Russ frowned and shifted his weight. He didn't mind a compliment, but English wasn't his best subject – if he was honest, he didn't really have a best subject and he didn't care.
"You need technical work," Miss Biggs continued, but she was still smiling. "Your grammar and punctuation are sloppy. You're a smart boy, you should be able to clean that up without a problem."
"Thanks?" Russ said again, even more confused. If she didn't like his work, why was she complimenting him? And no matter what she was doing, why didn't she just write a long note on his assignment, like she had every other time.
"You're welcome," she said, "but I'm not done. I think, with some practice, you could be an excellent editorial writer. Why don't you write some more this fall, along with at least one regular article; when you're done, we'll work on the technical details and put together a writing portfolio."
At first Russ automatically nodded – agreeing with teachers made it easier to get away fast – but stopped as soon as he realized he didn't really understand what she was saying. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked.
Miss Biggs placed his article back on her pile of papers and sat on the corner of the desk. "I know graduation seems a long time away right now, but have you thought at all about what you'll do after high school?"
Russ shrugged. He really hadn't and didn't plan on doing it any time soon.
"Do you want to play hockey professionally?" she pressed.
He shrugged again. Russ had no illusions about his hockey career. The highlight was the scholarship to Eden Hall; sure, he'd been there to help win the Junior Goodwill Games, but he'd just been a last minute replacement. It didn't bother him.
Hockey wasn't life, it was just plain fun. His mom had been proud when he'd been offered the chance to go to a private high school and hadn't given him the chance to think about it when she accepted it for him.
Before all this luck, before the Ducks, he still hadn't thought much about the future. He'd make it through high school, get a job somewhere, and help out at home just like his big brother.
"Russ." Miss Biggs' voice dragged him back to the present. "I know what it's like to get lucky in your education. I grew up in St. Louis and my high school was horrible. We never had any money, we were rated lowest in the state – I never thought I'd get to go to college. When I was a junior, one of my teachers made it her goal to help me. She encouraged me, taught me how to study, helped me get scholarships. She's why I became a teacher.
"I'm not saying you should follow in my footsteps, but you do need to start thinking about what you're going to do when you leave here. I see something in you, in your writing. Maybe it won't amount to anything, but maybe it will.
"I'm the advisor for the school newspaper. Next semester, we'll accept applications for new staff writers. I know you're busy because of hockey, but I think you'd be good at this. I think you'd enjoy it. So, if you're interested, I'm willing to help you give it a try."
Russ nodded again, but this time he thought about what she'd said. He had enjoyed talking to the rest of the team and compiling their quotes and experiences, without giving away too much information about the ongoing war between the teams. He didn't really know what it would take to write a real article, but the opinion pieces sounded fun, at least. He always made up big rants in his head when he couldn't sleep. Maybe he'd have the chance to let other people read them, too.
"All right, what do I need to do?" he asked. Miss Biggs grinned at him, clapped her hands, and hopped off the desk. She pulled a small pile of papers out of her briefcase; the individual pages were all held together with a large paperclip.
"These are the areas we'll be looking to fill," she said, "and the style requirements for each section of the paper. Look them over, start writing, and we'll talk about it more once you have a beginning portfolio."
Russ grabbed the papers and turned to go. Before he reached the door, he looked back at her. "Miss Biggs?" he asked. She put away the pile of articles she'd pulled his from and looked up at him. "Thanks."
"No problem," Miss Biggs said with another grin.
Fulton sneaked past Ms Harper, the girls' dorm supervisor, which was easier than he thought it would be given his size, and walked up to Terri's dorm room. He knocked on the door and it was opened by Terri, she grinned at him. "Hey, you wanna come in before someone realises there's a boy on the floor?"
Terri's room was a nice spacious room that caught the afternoon sun. It was done in a light girlish shade of pink. One half was shockingly neat; it contained a bed with a blue bedspread and the walls were clear except for two framed pictures, one an Escher print, the other had a hand-drawn picture of a rather stern-looking family of four. The other half was covered in junk that threatened to spill over to the other side, the walls were covered in scribbles and doodles and a poster of Guns N' Roses, the bed had a purple cover, speckled liberally with splatters of ink and paint.
Standing in the room was a tall girl with long curly blonde hair, she looked very familiar. Then he managed to place her, it was Shona, the cheerleader who had pushed Terri over. "Oh, it's the boyfriend." She sneered. "Don't let me intrude." She slammed the door hard enough to crack the moulding on her exit.
Fulton frowned, he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve that tone, he hadn't even been in the fight between Terri and Shona, he had just been on the outskirts. "You didn't tell me you roomed with Shona, that must suck."
Terri laughed bitterly. "That wasn't Shona, that's Anna. They're sisters. See?" She pointed to the framed picture of the family on the wall. On closer inspection, the two girls in it were very similar in looks.
"Oh." He said.
Terri sat down on the purple bed and patted the space next to her. "Have a seat."
"If that wasn't Shona, why did I get the feeling she didn't like me?" He sat down next to Terri.
"You just walked in at the wrong time. Anna and I were having a big fight." She said.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered. He wasn't really sure why he'd come to see Terri, he supposed it was mostly because she seemed to let him turn his brain off. There always seemed to be something going on in her life and it served as a good distraction from his own. Once more the horrible thoughts danced back into his brain, boyfriends went to see their girlfriends. It was just something they did. Guy often snuck in to see Connie. He was acting like a boyfriend. Which just proved that he hadn't wanted to kiss Charlie.
Terri sighed and leant back against the headboard. "Dunno. The fight just came out of nowhere. One minute we're talking, the next Anna's yelling at me about the mess – which she's lived with every day of her life since we were nine – the next…" Terri broke off. "Never mind, it's stupid. It's probably girly things. And it didn't help that Shona popped round to raid my music."
"I thought you hated Shona?"
"I do. Passionately. And she hates me. It doesn't stop her coming by every single day so that we can exchange insults, sometimes while she's here she nicks a load of my CDs. She's a head cheerleader, you know. She's not really into pop music, so she grabs a handful of my stuff, listens to it, and decides what might work well for their next routine. I think she's under the impression that we don't notice, and we don't bother to disenchant her on that part, it would only wind her up and make her worse."
"I thought you were a Guns N' Roses fan." Fulton said, a little disillusioned by the admission that Terri owned pop.
"I am, but every so often, you just need pop to make you stop feeling stuff. Rock's great, but it makes you feel. Pop's just dirge, doesn't make you feel anything – like I told you last night. Sometimes I just need that. And Shona needs it to do routines to."
"So you're friends with her?" Fulton asked in confusion. His instincts had been right, Terri's life was certainly proving a good distraction.
"No, she's like an older sister. I hate her, she hates me. Anna's wonderful though." There was a slight hint of hero worship in her tone then. "Anna's got the easiest summary for how we know each other. It simply goes: when I was nine her dad took over my dad's company, and I took over Anna's life."
The door opened and Shona walked in. Fulton was sure that this one was Shona because she was wearing a cheerleader uniform. "Theresa, I think that I –" She broke off when she spotted Fulton sitting on the bed next to Terri. She smiled widely, and Fulton felt slightly alarmed. It wasn't a friendly smile. "This must be Fulton then. I'll just leave you guys to it." She left quickly.
"Is that family allergic to me?" Fulton asked.
"You've got to go now." Terri told him, making shooing motions with her hands. "Go. Back to your dorm. Now." She got up from the bed and stepped on a magazine, which slipped out from under her. She slammed into the bed, muttering pained curses as she went, and fell to the floor.
"Are you ok?" Fulton looked down and saw that she was crying, even though it hadn't looked like a bad fall to him.
"No." She said in a tight voice. "I've hurt my hip."
"Your hip?" He asked, getting up to help her.
"It's buggered." She told him shortly. "Just get out of my dorm, I'll be fine."
"Let me help you up."
"No, Shona's gone running to Ms Harper, we'll be in big trouble if she catches you here. Just go, will you?" She used the bed frame to haul herself up and let out another cry, her knuckles were white where she gripped.
"Screw that. Let me help you up, then I'll go." Fulton replied, moving to her side. "Which hip hurts?"
"The right."
"Ok, then." He crouched down behind her and put his hands firmly on her hips. "Excuse familiarity." He mumbled. "I'll try and keep your hips still while pulling you up."
"Thanks. That's what Anna does when things like this happen."
He pulled her to her feet, she let out another cry of pain and turned her face to his. "Thanks."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, my hips hurt me. It would have been worse without your help. I think I should lie down, keeping my body straight usually helps."
"I'll help you."
"You should go, Shona won't be long at all." She said, but her hand was tightly gripping his wrist to take the weight off her right side. Later when Fulton took off his shirt he would find a small hand-shaped bruise from Terri's fingers.
"You're not good at letting people help you." He said.
"I am." She responded in a quiet tone. "If you knew me, you'd know I've got no pride whatsoever, it's just Shona's going to get us in trouble."
Which is when Shona and Ms Harper walked in. It was hardly a shocking scene, Fulton and Terri standing in the middle of the room, even if his hands were still on her hips, Terri was quite clearly still in a fair amount of pain, but it didn't matter how innocent they looked.
What mattered was that Fulton was a boy and Terri was a girl and they had been alone together in a bedroom. What also mattered was that Shona was heard by many people when she said in a very innocent tone of voice, "I was worried Ms Harper, Terri is like a sister to me, I'd never let anything happen to her. But the door wouldn't open and I heard all this thumping and moaning. I didn't know what to think."
That's all that mattered.
The gossip took care of the rest.
Adam liked his new room. It was clean, it was far away from the other Ducks, and most importantly, he didn't have to share it with anyone else. There was another bed in there, but the room had not been assigned to anyone yet. He was also feeling a great amount of fondness mingled with resentment for his brother, Danny, who had sent him a cell phone by courier. In the box with the charger (but no instructions) was a note, it simply read: I have no idea what's going on in your life. How about you tell me?
He was now simply working up the courage to call his brother. The problem with Danny was that he was a fantastic older brother. There had been no time in his life when Adam had wished he was an only child, Danny had always stood up for him, always taken him out if Adam had nothing else to do, always fixed his problems. He was irritatingly perfect. Which made it impossible to lie to him. So when Danny would casually ask Adam how life was going for him, there would be no choice but to tell him everything. Especially since Danny already seemed to have a good idea of how life was going. The cell phone was almost brand new, Danny had been given it for his birthday, but he had sent it by courier to Adam so Adam would have no choice but to call him, tell him everything and have Danny fix his problems again.
What he wouldn't give for a slightly abusive older brother right now.
He found Danny's name in the phone book and pressed the green button.
"Spill it." Danny said, foregoing any preamble.
"Hey, Danny. How's life?" Adam said keeping his tone light.
"I got a phone call from Dad asking if you were having problems at school. He's labouring under a happy delusion that you actually tell me your problems willingly. I said you were fine, then I bundled up my brand new cell phone and wasted a ton of money sending it by courier, then I cut class so I could sit in my dorm room all day by the phone. Cut the crap, Ads."
"How mad would you be if I said I was fine?" Adam asked, very little hope in his voice.
"Very. So spill."
Adam took a deep breath and wondered where to begin. Did it start with Charlie's attitude? His own? How about the fact that Portman wasn't here? No, it probably started with Charlie. Everything in the whole damned world was about Charlie, wasn't? He thought about how tightly he had held on to Charlie earlier when they had tried to throw him in the trash can. He had tried to recapture the way he had felt for Charlie the day Charlie had given up his spot in the game against Iceland, simply because he knew it was more important to Adam to be able to play. When the feeling hadn't come back, his anger and resentment seemed to bubble up tenfold.
"Adam," Danny said warningly. "The contract for that phone is still in my name, I'm not wasting good money on listening to you breathe."
"I hate everything." Adam snapped. He had wanted to tell Danny to shut up, but he could never say anything like that to Danny, who always knew how to solve the problem – and more importantly, noticed that there was a problem when nobody else did.
"It's a good start." Danny said. "What do you hate most?"
"Charlie." Adam replied without hesitation.
"Charlie?" Danny repeated in genuine surprise. "I always thought you two were…"
"Were what?" Adam prompted, when Danny didn't finish.
There was a period of silence. "Good friends," Danny said finally.
Adam's heart gave a worried lurch. No. Please say this wasn't one of Danny's insightful moments. That would be incredibly bad, because if Danny had insight it meant that he'd grown accustomed to the idea, which meant that Adam should have no fear. Then Adam would have to confirm Danny's insight. He wasn't sure whether he was ready for that. Maybe he should just say something light (or at least, lighter), like 'yeah, me too, but not now' or something like that.
"That's not what you were going to say." Adam said, hating his brother's ability to never get anything but the truth from him.
"Ok, it wasn't." Danny said agreeably.
"What were you going to say?" Adam wondered if Danny would be angry if he threw the phone out of the window in order to get out of having this conversation. He suspected that he might be, but only momentarily. Then, proving his perfection, he would hop on a plane, turn up on Adam's doorstep and get confirmation of insight in person.
"I wasn't actually going to say it out loud. I was just going to let you know that I knew." Danny replied.
"Well, you're wrong." Adam said, a hint of smugness in his tone. "At least, with Charlie. It's not Charlie."
"Well done, baby bro." Adam could hear the smile in his brother's voice. "I'm glad you admitted it. I won't ask who, unless you want to tell me."
"I hate you." Adam said with feeling, but underneath it all, he was relieved. Adam didn't really feel comfortable talking to anyone, not even the people he called his friends. There was no-one but Danny who was really easy to talk to. "How long have you known?"
"When you got back from the Goodwill Games you were different, more confident. You know my friend, Ashley? Well, he was really quiet and reserved until he first got a girlfriend. I figured you'd fallen in love at some point while you were away. It was a matter of deduction after that, Connie's dating Guy – and I know you're too nice to steal another guy's girl. And I don't think you even mentioned the other girl."
"Julie."
"Yeah, her. There were a few you didn't mention, so I figured that you weren't deliberately not mentioning her."
"That brain is wasted in law school. Why don't you see if the FBI is recruiting?"
Danny laughed, but it had a slight hollow quality.
"Have you told Dad you don't want to be a lawyer yet?" Adam asked.
"Oh, we're dealing with all of the big problems in this call, aren't we?"
"You're avoiding the question."
"I'm the older brother, I get to fix your problems, you don't have to fix mine."
"I want to. Look, maybe he won't mind. Remember how he was after the Pee Wee playoffs? He didn't care that I was a Duck not a Hawk, he said he just wanted me to be happy." They had gone through this several times, but it didn't diminish Adam's determination to help Danny the way he had always helped him.
"I think he'll be more mad about this, Ads. Hockey isn't life – or at least, what team you played for in the Pee Wees really doesn't make much difference when the NHL teams are signing you up."
"Why don't you tell him anyway? Sure, he might get mad, but at least he'll know. It's going to kill you trying to please him. After you graduate it will be much harder to tell him – you know he's talking to Ducksworth Saver & Gross about getting you a trainee position."
Danny sighed. "I know that. I know. And you're right, of course you are, I didn't get all the brains in this family. It's just hard."
"It'll be harder lying to him."
"You gonna tell him what you told me today?" Danny asked. He wasn't malicious, he never was. It was just the simplest way to put things into context.
Adam shook his head, even though Danny couldn't see it. "I get it."
"Now we're depressed, aren't we?" Danny said, though he sounded as if he was already regaining his cheer. "Let's talk about your problems, they're much easier to fix than my own."
"I'm ok." Adam told him.
"Me too."
Adam hoped it was true.