Better Hallway Vision

by UnicornPammy

A/N: Here's Andy. When I went back over everything to see what needed fixing, this is the only chapter in which I didn't change anything. I just read through it, and when I reached the end, I just thought, wow that's really good. Lol. I don't need to change anything. Sweet! I remember that it took me so long to finish this one. I just couldn't get it down in one cohesive little Andy vignette. But I guess I finally did, because it's my favorite of the first five. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: A blood curdling blah blah blah, yackety shmackety. Don't sue! I have no monies!

Chapter 5: Strengths and Weaknesses

Sweat dripped into his eyes as he finished a fourth circuit of his neighborhood block, which had a perimeter of about a mile. It stung, and blurred his vision, sending porch lights swirling in a greasy yellow smear among the darkness of night. He wiped the sweat away on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, glancing at the familiar street around him. His house was in an older, less ostentatious section of Claire's neighborhood.

He knew that a lot of kids at school thought his family was better off than it was. He wished they were; maybe then his old man wouldn't have such a hard-on for him to get a wrestling scholarship. People thought he was a richie, but he wasn't. It's just that most of his friends were. And when he told anyone that he lived in Wyndhurst Manors, that pretty much sealed the deal.

Unfortunately, from here on out, he didn't really know who his friends were, or who they would be when Monday managed to roll around. He and Claire, they were the ones expected to ditch the other three. But he'd said he wouldn't. And I will not.

That day's detention had made him think, made him realize that there were many different kinds of strengths, and many different kinds of weaknesses. He was strong, but he was also weak.

His dad had always taught him to think that strength and weakness could be measured by how much weight you could bench press, or how long or fast you could run. How fast you could pin your opponent and win a match. If that were true, then Andy would be a very strong person.

But I'm not. I can't think for myself, or make my own decisions. I've never really asked myself what I want. He suddenly felt that his dad had brainwashed it into him that he wanted to be a wrestler, and go to some Big Ten school that would let him in for a song and a dance around the circular mat.

Is that what I really want, though?

I don't know.

One thing he did know was that he needed to start thinking for himself. He could see Allison's face in his mind: pale skin, dark, burning eyes, messy black hair, and a sad mouth. Damn, that mouth of hers and the things that came out of it...bitten-off fingernails, interesting lies, outrageous truths... Her mouth was what he liked best about her. Her lips, her crooked front teeth, the way she talked and the things she said. Even after Claire's make-over, her mouth was still her most interesting feature. He could just see it better.

What do they do to you?

They ignore me.

God, what he wouldn't give to have his father ignore him...

When his dad had picked him up earlier that day, he'd read him the riot act.

"What the hell was that!"

"What?"

"That girl! Did she just take your Championship Patch?"

He remembered how red his dad's face had suddenly become, and how, as he continued yelling, spit had started to fly from his old man's lips.

"Well, yeah..."

"Well, you better get it back!"

"Dad, it's just a patch. It's not like I don't have the trophy at home."

"Just a patch! We worked our asses off for that patch!"

"No, I worked my ass off for that patch. You just stood on the sidelines yelling, 'You big pussy, can't you hold him better than that!' So I think I can give it to whoever I damn well want!"

...was what he wished he had said. Instead, he had simply nodded, unable to say anything.

Andy punched the air a couple times as he ran, trying to work out his frustration. It was almost as if he couldn't think while he was sitting still; he had to be moving to figure things out. How do I keep from having to take my patch back? He remembered her eyes, dark and lonely the whole afternoon. But then, after they had kissed and she'd ripped the patch off his shoulder, she'd seemed to come alive. She was suddenly bright and confident...and so goddamn sexy.

But he knew that it hurt her to her core to be dismissed, and he knew also that he couldn't do that to her. He would never be able to look her in the face again if he did.

Andrew Sebastian Clark, you really are a pussy if you hurt her like that.

I don't want to hurt her.

But then, I didn't want to tape Larry's ass-cheeks together, did I? But I did. Because of dad. And now he wants me to hurt Allison. But I'm not gonna do it. I'm not...gonna...do it, he thought, his feet stomping down with each stride

He decided to run just one more lap, and call it a night. Dinner would be soon, and he realized he was starving. But he didn't want to face his dad; he knew one look at his old man's scowl would chase all his determination away. But I can't let that happen. I can't let him control me anymore. Picking up speed, he finished his run with a sprint. He allowed himself to walk a bit, cooling down, letting his heart rate drop. When he found himself staring at his own front door, he realized he didn't want to go in. He wanted more than anything to be back in the school library, just talking to people who actually listened. Despite their clashing, Andy thought that he and Bender might be able to get along. And he could definitely be friends with Brian. That kid was so honest and vulnerable. He made Andy feel like an older brother, which was an odd feeling because Andy was the youngest in his family. Of course, he and Claire were already almost friends. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to start hanging out with her.

And then there was Allison... It wasn't his first kiss, but he'd be comfortable placing a large bet that it was hers. The way she had kissed him was timid and slightly unsure. At first she had held herself stiff and rigid in his arms, but as they kissed, she had relaxed. And just when he was getting warmed up, she pulled away, and ripped the patch off his shoulder. As if she were inviting him to come get it back. But he knew she would take it the wrong way if he asked her to give it back. It would be the death knell of a barely budding friendship that could be so much more.

Andy paced around in front of his house, hands on his hips, breath steaming in the cold evening air. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to face his dad. He felt almost as if the old man would see his thoughts on his face. He would know that Andy had decided not to ask for the patch back.

He'd never defied his father before. He'd talked back a few times, but his dad had always taught him it was a bad idea, usually with his belt. Jason Clark was hard on his boys, but Andy felt that there was a difference between his dad and Bender's. At least his dad had never left a scar on him. Nothing physical, anyway. He knew that his dad considered physical discipline distasteful but necessary, and he'd never go as far as John's dad had obviously gone. Even though Andy wasn't a huge fan of his father, he'd still felt a bit resentful when John suggested their dads should get together and go bowling.

Andy looked up at his house, knowing he had to go in sometime. So with a deep sigh and a troubled heart, he trotted up the driveway. Will he notice that I'm different now? That I'm not the same Andrew I was this morning before getting out of the truck? Would his dad think it was a good thing, or a bad thing, that he was no longer a neanderthallish thug who jumped helpless geeks and put tape on their hairy asses? He almost cried thinking about it, because he knew that no matter what happened, now or years from now, his dad's opinion of him would always matter. He would always care about it. And he wanted his dad to be proud of him.

Just because I don't want to live under his thumb doesn't mean I don't love him, or want his approval. He ran a hand through short, sweat-damp hair, his other hand on the door knob. With a deep, fortifying sigh, he opened the door and went in. He looked for his dad, found him in the den. "Hey, dad..."

His old man was watching college basketball, the Fighting Illini against Ohio's Bobcats. "Yeah?" he said, not turning away from the TV.

"Dad, I wanna tell you something." Andy was trembling, his heart was pounding. And his dad wouldn't even look at him.

"Yeah, what?"

"Dad, I want to quit the wrestling team."