Chapter Seven: Let's Try and Make This Work
Harry hated admitting when his father was right; as you got older, time went by faster. The first full week of school had flew by and the second week was nearly over, which meant his father and his "new" mother would be returning home come late Thursday night, giving them a three day weekend to recover from jet lag, among other things, before going back to work. Thank Poseidon, he wasn't sure how much more of his sisters and step-brother he could take alone. Hanging out on the sidewalk or the back porch could only do so much, eventually he had to go inside. Otherwise the neighbours might grow suspicious if there was some teenage boy hanging out on the streets all night.
He hoped that when his father returned home that his new wife wasn't the centre of his attention. He had two weeks for the love struck routine; when he came home, Harry hoped that he'd return to work and fatherly duties and leave his lovey dovey stuff for the bedroom. Before meeting Emma, his father had been known to get drunk on practically any occasion, but once Emma had popped into the picture, his drinking became reserved for special occasions only; it was really the only improvement that he saw in his father. She had eaten up his time and had stolen away his father's attention. If he had to be honest, Harry felt lonely; if he wasn't hanging around with Uma and Gil, than he was at home most of the time. When his father had been single, he'd shared and divided his attention among his three children. But now that there were two extra people in the picture, his father's attention would be spread thin.
There was the niggling fear in the back of his head that he'd be forgotten by his dad. Perhaps it was the "Middle Child Syndrome" he was feeling, but Harry really didn't want to be left out in his family. Before Emma, his family had been far from perfect, but even with her and Henry, it was still far from perfect. He just didn't want to be pushed out of his father's mind or heart simply because of a new woman-wife- in his life.
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Thursday and Friday were always the two best days of the school week; towards the rear end of the week, it was like people stopped caring, that included the teachers. The cafeteria typically tended to be a zoo, more than usual towards the end of the week. However, it had never really bothered Harry; public schools were always a zoo, no matter how much "control" the principal and teachers tried to put into place.
He sat with Uma and Gil, hidden in a corner of the room where they could be given some privacy. Gil was looking particularly unhappy, as was Uma, but that was nothing new about her. It was strange to see Gil looking down though; normally the golden boy could be described as "walking on sunshine", typically always in a happy go lucky mood.
"So, did ye make the team," he asked. Gil stared down at his lunch tray, and sighed heavily before nodding once.
"I'm going to quit, but I don't know what I should tell the coach. I feel like he'll whoop my ass if I quit before we can even get started as a team." He pushed away the food tray in front of him, food mostly untouched and growing cold. Harry frowned in discontent; he didn't see any sense in worrying about something like that, but to Gil, it probably was a large problem in his mind.
"Just don't show up," Uma suggested, glancing up from a book she had been reading. She took a long swig from her water bottle. "If you don't show up, I think they'll get the idea that you don't want to play." Harry took note of how Uma was wearing long sleeves today, paired with 3/4 length jeans. He squinted in suspicion, his eyes traveling briefly to the windows. The weather hadn't changed much since the morning; it had grown a bit warmer and the autumn frost had disappeared for now. The sky was clear and as blue as his eyes, he didn't see any reason why Uma should be wearing long sleeves just yet with such pleasant weather conditions still lingering around. He knew that she was more than likely having problems with her mother, or one of her mothers suitors, but Uma was as stubborn as a mule- she'd never in a million years ask for help.
Sooner or later, he'd probably shove his nose into her business. That's typically how his friendship with Uma worked; sticking his nose in other people's business even though it wasn't wanted and then trying to make the best out of the situation at hand.
"You think that'll work?" Gil asked. " Doesn't that look unreliable than? What if the other players come after me?" Harry laughed.
"And ye say I'm the paranoid one." He rubbed Gil on the back reassuringly. "I don't think they gonna come and hunt ye down. They like you Gilly, I don't think they'd want to hurt ye, even if ye decided to leave the team." It was good to be around his friends, but he really wished that he got to spend more time around them when they were in school; after school hours didn't leave much time and it seemed difficult to coordinate their weekends with one another. Nonetheless, having them around made the empty feeling in his chest disappear. When they were near, he felt complete, without them, he was just a puzzle with many missing pieces.
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Harriet had decided to take off without Harry that day, so he was stuck walking home. It wasn't that far of a walk, maybe twenty minutes by foot, fifteen if he decided to cut through people's backyards. But he decided to take the long way around, and by the time he arrived, the sun was moving closer to the horizon, preparing itself to go to sleep. As he opened up the front door, he almost had to check and make sure it was the right house.
The aroma that floated to his nostrils was nothing like he had smelled before. When anyone in his family had tried to cook, it usually ending up getting burnt, thrown out or thrown up. But this smell was almost heavenly, he couldn't even place the name of the food by the smell alone. His mood darkened slightly as he took in the sight as he entered the kitchen. Everyone was here already, preparing dinner together, looking perfectly happy.
It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did; it reminded him of the time when he was six and his own sister didn't want him present at her birthday party; he hated being left out, the feeling it gave him made him feel unimportant in other's lives. He, like everyone else, had relevance. He watched from the doorway as his sisters set the table and his father and Emma went about chopping vegetables and stirring some sort of sauce in a pot. What made him mad was how he saw his father giving advice to Henry as they leaned over the stove together, watching the contents of the pot begin to boil.
He strode into the kitchen and made his way towards the table.
"Thanks for forgetting me," he growled, yanking on his sister's hair, half-teasingly. Harriet kicked at his shin as he made his way around the kitchen table.
"Not my fault that you wasn't on time," she growled.
"Come on everyone," Emma said. She grabbed the closed dishes off the kitchen island and moved them to the kitchen table. "Let sit and eat." She gave Harriet a side glance, her face giving a silent warning before her eyes moved to Harry. He glared at her as she motioned for him to sit down.
Dinner was quiet, at least on his part. Conversation was still had, but everyone seemed to avoid trying to bring him into the conversation on account of his miserable behaviour. If he fetl left out when he came home, he definitely now felt isolated despite the fact that he was sitting at the same table as the rest of them. He was the first to leave the table and retreat to the back porch, as it had quickly become a habit over the past two weeks.
It was probably about half an hour later that his father stepped out onto the porch. Harry could feel his father's eyes on him, analyzing him; it was something his father liked to do ever since he was young and it still made him uncomfortable to this day. After a moment of silence his father sighed and he took several steps towards Harry, the porch creaking under his feet.
"Harry, I know that you're not happy, but try and make this work." He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, turning him to face him. "Please, if not for you, for me." The smile on his father's face pulled at his heartstrings. He hadn't seen his dad smile a lot in the past year or so. The last time he saw his father smile genuinely, was at his wedding with Emma. He was happy, and although that should have been enough for Harry, it didn't feel like enough. He only felt more empty on the inside and wasn't sure how he could fix it.
Gil was not going to back down this time. He had planned on breaking the news to Evie after football practice; he'd been able to tell the coach he wouldn't be returning for future practices. But the small voice inside suggested he break up with her somewhere private, where there wasn't a large audience of jocks and cheerleaders to watch her reaction. So he put it off and invited her over to his place. Inside, his stomach was doing flips and his intestines were tying themselves in knots; he felt bad; he didn't want to hurt her but he didn't want to stay trapped in this relationship. He thought that by letting go of each other, they'd both be able to see other people, perhaps people that made them happy.
Sometimes it was best to do what was best for the self before doing what was best for others.
However, Evie had other ideas; it seemed as though she assumed that he had brought her to his place for more intimate time together. The house was empty, and would be for another hour or so before his father or either of his brothers came home. Before he could so much as ask if she wanted a drink, she was right up against him, her hands wrapped around his shoulders, her hips pressing into his.
Her lips were everywhere; his neck, his jaw, his cheeks, his lips, his forehead; it felt like she was trying to eat him and couldn't decide on where to start. When she had settled on his neck, Gil thought quickly of what to say to her. Of how to start the beginning of the end.
"Evie, can we talk?"
"About what," she asked.
"About us." She drew back to look up into his face, looking concerned.
"What about us?" her voice was low, as though she sensed that whatever he said next would be rather serious and dark. Gil could feel a rising tension in the air between them as he struggled for the right words to say.
"I was thinking that maybe you and I should see other people."
"Why would I want to do that" she asked. Her index finger traced delicate trails along his jawline. "You're all I need." She pulled him in for another kiss, only to have Gil push her away.
"I don't like you that way," he said. It came out a lot harsher than he had meant to. The look on Evie's face was at first one of shock than of angry than of sadness, before snapping back to anger and staying there.
"What are you trying to say?"
"I don't want us to be together anymore." It was lot easier to say than he thought it would have been. The only thing he feared was how she was going to take the news.
"What, have you found someone better," Evie asked. Her voice was snarky, but Gil could tell by the slight tremor in her lips that she was hiding hurt, and tears.
"No, I just, think that I'm not the best match for you."
"I love you though-" She reached for him, her hands trailing down his arms and clinging to his hands. "Stay with me please. You may not love me now, but we can make it work." She released his hands and she began to tug at the bottom hem of his shirt, her fingers sneaking underneath the material.
"I don't love you, Evie!" He shoved her away from him, readjusting his shirt so it was straight. Tears were slowly beginning to trickle down her cheeks and Gil felt his stomach clench uncomfortably.
He hated seeing people cry, especially girls. He hated it even more when he was the cause of someone's tears. "Is the only reason you're with me because you want to get in my pants?" The question had slipped out; he hadn't actually meant to voice that thought. Not long after they began dating, Gil had begun to wonder if the only reason she was with him was because of his body. If it was, than he wasn't the only one who felt hurt in this dispute.
"Well it wasn't for your brains," she snapped. Despite the tears running down her cheeks, the anger was raw in her voice and put a fire in her eyes. "And if I wanted someone with muscle I could have picked anyone on team-you were just easy."
The words hurt. He wasn't sure if she meant them or not; sadness and anger weren't the best mix of emotions. Nonetheless, it hurt to hear that come out of her mouth. Among the hurt he felt, he also felt a small spark of anger; she had no right to be cruel to him like that. He was just trying to do what was best for both of them.
"Get out," he said, his voice flat. "Please, get out."
Evie glared at him for a moment, her eyes lit with anger, dried tear tracks on her face. She huffed in annoyance before turning on her heel and storming out. The door slammed shut as she ran out, only to be opened again to have his father walk in. Their eyes connected for a moment, and Gil could practically see the wheels turning hin his father's head as he tried to piece together what he had seen on his way in.
"Why did she leave here crying, Gil," his father finally demanded, all business.
Despite being labeled as a homosexual by his coworkers and complete strangers, Gaston was actually attracted to both genders, and he could be a gentleman to either. That was one of the things that his father had taught him from a young age was to be a gentleman, to both men and women. Gil could understand why his father seemed borderline anger and disappointed that a young girl had left the house, bawling her eyes out.
"I broke up with her."
"You didn't lay a hand on her?"
Despite appearances and stereotypes that his father had received over his life, Gil knew that his dad was strongly opposed to the abuse of women, or any person in general, but particularly women. From what Louis had once told him, Gil's mother had been a triplet, and even though they came from a well off family, the three of them weren't treated all that well by their mother. Louis had described Gil's maternal grandmother as someone who was a perfectionist and rather cynical in every sense and very, very opinionated; she had a sharp and harsh tongue when it came to her daughters' appearances and behaviours. Louis had told him that Gaston had always assumed there was more going on between Laurette and her mother than she let on.
"No sir. I just said I didn't share romantic feelings for her." Gil stated. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to fight off the bad feelings for making Evie cry. "She just didn't take it very well."
HIs father nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.
"Alright then."
He sighed quietly, trying to shake off the echo of Evie's words in his head. It shouldn't matter what she said, but people's harsh words always managed to sink their claws easily into his brain and heart. He turned back to his father, who was taking out a cold beer from the fridge, an almost forgotten thought coming to his thoughts.
"Oh, and I quit football. I was actually thinking about trying out for track and field. Maybe high jump, or discus. Hurdles even, they kind of look like fun."
It was hard to make his dad smile, but Gil could clearly see that Gaston was smiling, even if it was small.
"I'm happy for you." The words seemed genuine and made the hurt that he felt in his heart diminish slightly.
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Instead of doing homework, Gil had passed out on his bed, exhausted from his uncomfortably awkward discussion with Evie. He'd avoided dinner and had shut himself inside his room, although there was still the no lock policy, so he wasn't surprised when Bronze barged into the room. He yanked on Gil's ankle to get his attention.
"Gil, some nerd is at the door for you," Bronze said. Gil stifled a groan as he forced himself to his feet. He had forgotten that Doug was coming over tonight. Doug had been helping Gil with his English since freshman year. After finding out he was dyslexic in his late junior high school years, having someone to help him sort the jumbled and floating letters had been a lifesaver to a drowning swimmer. From what the secretary had told him when he went in to sign up for tutoring help, she had said that Doug was one of the best tutors in the school.
Unable to focus on the work that Doug presented him with, Gil's thoughts were wandering around, his head in the clouds. His eyes kept wandering to Doug, an idea steadily appearing in his mind.
"Hey, Doug, I have a question for you." Gil shut the book he was reading, making sure he had the bespeckled boy's attention before speaking further. "Do you like Evie?"
"Of course I do. Who doesn't like Evie Queene?" Doug exclaimed. He readjusted his glasses on his nose, his eyes averting to the floor as a slow blush began to creep up his neck.
"Yeah, but I mean do you like her in a romantic way? Would you want to go out with her?"
"But-but you're dating her." Gil shook his head. "Not anymore. I broke up with her. But I think she should have someone special in her life. I think a smart guy like you would work well with her." Doug took off his glasses, grabbing a tissue from his pocket to rub the fog off his lenses.
"I-I don't think she'll go for a guy like me, Gil."
"I'm sure she will. She didn't pick me for my brains, but you got looks and brains. I'll help you."
Jay paced in front of his brother's room, unsure of how to proceed. He really wish that he had brought Carlos with him; he was much better at explaining things than he was. But he had to be the one to let Aziz in on everything, he was Jay's brother after all. With information like this, information that made him nervous, Jay couldn't trust what words would come out of his mouth. He sighed heavily, clenching his hands into fists and releasing them, trying to get the clammy feeling to go away. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly before knocking on the door. He opened it up and poked his head inside the room.
"Hey, Aziz, can I talk to you for a minute?" He and Aziz were ten months apart in age, Aziz being the older one, even though Jay looked like several years his senior. Compared to Jay, Aziz's features were much more boy like and he was shorter than Jay by a good head.
"Sure Jay." He closed the textbook he had been reading and put aside, giving Jay his full attention. A silence fell between them as Jay thought of how to bring up the issue without being totally moment of silence lingered for a moment too long. Aziz glanced at him, confused.
"Is everything okay? You said you wanted to talk, but you haven't said anything." He got up from his desk chair and approached Jay, a concerned look on his face. "Are you having problems with your dad?" Jay snapped back to attention at his brother's words; this wasn't about him right now, this was about Aziz at the moment, even though the bigger picture involved both of them.
"I have something to show you."
He headed over to Aziz's computer and quickly opened up the website Carlos had found as fast as possible. He motioned for Aziz to sit down as they waited for the page to load. Aziz's eyes went big as saucers as he stared at the pictures as they uploaded before him. He scrolled through all of them once, twice, thrice. Jay put his hand onto Aziz's, pulling it away from the mouse. The silence that hung between the two of them was tense and filled with Jay's nervousness.
"What the hell is this Jay," he asked, finally, glancing up at Jay.
"Last year, I got an email from an unknown address. They sent me pictures like this, but of myself." He scrolled up so the screen showed his own. "And I asked Carlos for help and he found out that there were other guys in the school who had their pictures on here." Jay turned Aziz around, grabbing him by the shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. "You can't tell mom. And don't tell Aladdin. We don't want any adults knowing yet."
"Why the fuck not, Jay," Aziz demanded, his voice harsh but quiet. Jay dropped his arms to his sides, slightly shocked; Aziz normally never swore. "This is serious. This means there's some fucking pedophile creeping around at the school. The police should know ab-"
"They will...just not yet. Carlos and I are going to tell the rest of the people that we found on here. Minus you and me, there's five others." Aziz glared at Jay harshly, his lips pursing in displeasure. He sighed heavily, folding his arms across his chest.
"I don't like it, but fine. But you better go to the police- if there's seven of us on this site already, there could be more soon."
A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back from vacation and back with an update for you all. So, this chapter unlike the others is from three different POVS, and I feel like a lot of future chapters will have this formatting. Otherwise, I think that if one chapter is only one POV, it could be a very, very long time until the story ends, and I personally don't want it to have more than forty chapters if possible. And the (page break) s in the this chapter are just trying to show a short time jump- within a couple hours or so.
Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this! If you want, leave a comment/ review or like or whatever; any form of kudos is greatly appreciated. Also, on a side note, this story is cross posted on , but I have added some sentences in this version.