It was an overcast afternoon in Central Park. The sky was gray and the walking path was dyed from rain. A sole, old lady sat on a bench, feeding a pigeons. An image that is probably always shown. The old lady hunched over with a paper bag clasped in one hand and bread crumbs in the other, shaking them out for the pigeons to greedily gobble up. The old woman probably was cryogenically frozen to stay the forever image of Central Park.
These were the thoughts racing through Star's head as he raced through the park. He kept his body low to the ground and his skates sung on the pavement. He saw the trashcan up ahead and pumped his legs more. He glanced over his shoulder to see Heck a good ten yards behind him. Star stood as he passed the trashcan and threw his arms up triumphantly.
"And the winner is…Robert Starkey!" he exclaimed. "And the crowd goes wild! Ooh! Aah! Etcetera!"
He did a bow and shook out his sweaty curls. Heck came rolling in and collapsed on an empty park bench.
"And Daniel Hector is last," he panted. "Cheers for me."
Star wheeled over to him and fingered the long sleeved, embroidered velvet top he wore with his JPHS gym shorts.
"It's the hippie top," he said solemnly.
"It's the physical exertion," Heck corrected, leaning back against the bench and letting his head loll back. "It's exhausting. Why did you chaps have to invent this? Couldn't you just go on stealing our sports?"
Star quirked a brow. "Chaps? You're being overly British again. You've lived here for eleven years, Heck. Your British days are over."
"Do shut up."
"Besides, this physical exertion stuff?" he laughed. "You said you can maintain having sex for three hours and you can't rollerblade around Central Park?"
He lifted his head and rushed hand through his sweat-dampened locks.
"Sex is different. Sex, I'm good at. I am not good at this."
Star shuffled a little, suddenly looking almost sheepish. He almost wished that he hadn't brought up the talk of sex in the first place. It always made him slightly comfortable.
"What about you?" he asked. "Is your performance based on sensual acts or your rugby skills?"
"Football," he corrected. "Rugby is a completely different sport. Call it football."
"But it's not football."
Star rolled his eyes and pulled Heck up off of the bench.
"Come on," he said. "One more go around then we'll hit the subway home."
Heck gave an elaborate sigh. "You suck…and you never answered my question."
He dropped his friend's hand which sent him crashing back onto the bench.
"It's…nothing," he said in a voice that was much higher than normal. "Really. It's my football skills."
Heck struggled back to his feet and cocked one, thick brow.
"What's with the voice, mate?" he asked. "You got all squeaky like you've got something to…"
A slow, easy grin appeared on the smaller boy's face.
"You're a virgin, aren't you?"
"Just once around the park, Heck," he said, grabbing his arm.
"You are such a virgin!" he laughed. "I thought all you footballers were Casanovas."
Star screwed up his face. "Never use that word. And, in case you didn't notice, I'm not your average football player." He flapped his Abbey Road t-shirt in proof.
Heck nodded. "That's true but, man, I always thought…what about that chick you said you met over the summer when you were visiting Lion?"
"We stayed up all night talking about doing it and then we fell asleep," he explained. "Now you know, so let's drop it and go around the park, okay?"
"Fine. But…" Heck stripped his thick shirt off and tossed it in his bag lying by the bench. Both boys seized their bags, figuring they were lucky they weren't stolen in their first race and didn't want to chance it again.
Star turned to skate off and nearly crashed into a man.
"Oi!" Heck snapped. "Watch where you're going, man!"
The man was a bit taken back. "I'm sorry it's just…do you two go to Joseph Pulitzer High?"
"How does he know that?" Heck hissed in the vicinity of Star's ear.
"Because you have your gym shorts on, moron," he hissed back.
They turned back to the man in the Polo shirt and grinned sheepishly.
"Yeah," Star said. "Why?"
He tossed back his wavy brown hair and uttered a laugh.
"Sorry, that sounded kind of stalkerish. I'm here for the tenth reunion of my class and I was taking a walk around the park for nostalgia and saw you two."
Star put on his hugest smile—he watched countless interviews and Youtube videos to perfect his Ringo smile despite the fact that they didn't look alike at all—and stuck his hand out.
"I'm Robbie Starkey," he said. "That's Daniel."
Heck gave a small wave.
The man took his hand with a warm smile. "Michael Newcomb."
--
Wart rubbed his temples in near agony. He had had pretty much a hectic first day at school and the whole matter was being magnified by the fact that his moronic brother wouldn't stop singing.
"Second verse, same as the first!" Jester proclaimed. "I'm 'Enry the VIII I am! 'Enry the VIII I am, I am! I got married to the widow next door. She's been married seven times before and ev'ry one was—"
Wart shoved him in to the wall of the elevator that was currently sweeping them up to their Fifth Avenue penthouse.
"Shut up, Hester," he demanded. "You're giving me a migraine."
Jester flashed him a chipped tooth grin and immediately went back to singing. Wart sighed. Honestly, they usually got on pretty well seeing as he was normal and Jester was a psycho but after school was always the worst. He'd be exhausted from trying to hide the fact he liked Windy—and from actually doing his schoolwork—and Jester would be all wound up from keeping his mouth shut for the teachers so he didn't end up with a week of detention for doing something crazy like blowing up a snare drum in the band room—something that had happened before.
Finally, the elevator doors dinged open and the two boys stepped into the thickly carpeted hall that led to the penthouse. As they neared the door, Wart could distinctly hear his mother talking to someone inside. He had a fleeting hope that their lawyer father was back from one of his many, many business trips but immediately cast it aside. Whoever was inside sounded young.
"Maybe mom's having an affair," Jester suggested. "And being really stupid and loud about it."
Wart rolled his eyes. "Honestly."
Jester rolled his back as though he were some bizarro reflection of him and pushed the door open.
Inside their mother sat, the perfectly coifed, made up and coutured socialite that she was, giggling like a school girl and clutching the arm of the man seated on their antique, dark-wood-and-red-velvet couch. Wart wasn't quite sure who he was but he was Asian, good-looking and had spiky, dark hair. He had to be a Lee since his mother wouldn't get that excited over some random—albeit cute, from an objective point of view—guy in their house.
The second they opened the door, their mother leapt from the couch.
"Hester, Corbin!" she exclaimed. "Look who's here! Ben Lee!"
Wart kind of stood in the doorway, smiling but Jester stepped forward and hung his hand out limply, palm down. Ben rose and shook it, an odd expression on his face.
"You guys sure have grown." He laughed. "Of course, it has been ten years."
"Yeah," Jester said with a sly grin. "People tend to grow in ten years."
Wart rolled his eyes at his antics.
"Are you here for the reunion?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yeah, we are," Ben replied. "Came up from Florida. Honestly, I don't really have a reason to go but Nero's pretty psyched."
"Nero as in Nero Rizzio?" Jester asked, the cool act gone and his eyes alight.
As if to answer him, there was the sound of a toilet flushing and the mahogany door to their powder room swung open to reveal a man with olive skin, sparkling blue eyes and wavy, dark hair. He grinned at them and waved, his bright smile slightly marred by two, oversized front teeth.
"Hey!" he greeted them warmly even though they had never met.
Jester, of course, knew who he was. Thanks to milking information from Patrick, he knew nearly everyone—or, as he put it, everyone who mattered—in the now-reuniting class.
"You were Snitch!" he exclaimed happily.
He nodded and stepped up to Ben, easily putting an arm around his shoulders.
"I was," he replied before raising his head up and grinning slightly. "Those were the days. I miss them."
"No, you don't," Ben chided good-naturedly, nudging him with his hip.
"Of course I do," Nero chirped. "High school was pretty much fine for me. It was my friends that it sucked for."
Ben nudged him again and Wart couldn't help but look on in awe. They looked ridiculously happy together. He looked at Jester and could tell that he was thinking the same thing.
"They're going to be staying here until the reunion's over!" their mother's ever chipper voice broke into Wart's near voyeuristic studying of their happiness with a slight bang.
"Cool," Jester replied. "Mom, we're gonna go hang out with the guys. First day, no homework and all that."
She waved a hand. "Oh, sure. Have fun."
Jester immediately was heading back out the door but Wart paused, watching Nero and Ben for a bit longer. He wondered if someday, he and Windy could have something like that.
--
Windy tripped up the walk leading to the same house in Queens she had lived in her entire life. Behind her, her brother and their oldest friend trailed slightly. Tripping slightly in her shoes, she turned around to watch them. Pickle was tossing his blonde hair back and forth as he laughed at something Gypsy said. Gypsy—who rarely actually made a joke—just smiled in that mysterious way of his.
With a slightly furrowed brow as she walked backwards, she couldn't help but notice the ridiculous amount of sparks going from her brother to Gypsy and vice versa. She felt as though she was going to get shocked if she walked between them.
It was one of the reasons she couldn't understand why they didn't just get together. She had asked Pickle about it before and he simply answered that they were best friends and nothing more. She had rolled her eyes at that.
Without saying a word to her, she noticed them slip between one of the rotted planks separating their house from Gypsy's.
"Where you two going?" she demanded, kind of hating the fact that they weren't paying attention to her at all. It was true that they were probably secretly in love but that didn't mean that they had to be rude.
Her only reply was something about a sitar and they were gone. Sighing, Windy kind of tripped and danced into the house as was her usual manner of walking and threw her stuff.
Sure, Windy knew that they were so in love and needed to figure that out already but she couldn't help but sigh as she sat on the lumpy, orange couch in their living room that being alone was really a drag.
--
David still had the key to his old apartment. He knew that Sarah lived there, as she detailed on the phone, so it wasn't like he was going to be breaking into anyone's house.
He held onto Josh's hand and pushed the door open with his free one.
"I can't wait to meet your family," Josh said sunnily, kissing his cheek.
David smiled despite himself and twisted his head so Josh's lips could meet his. He was overcome with the need not to go inside quite yet. He didn't know why he was hesitating, really. It was just Sarah, Allen and maybe Morris. What was the big deal? Still, being with Josh felt…good. It felt really good. The best he had felt since…Jack.
Actually it was the only time he felt good since Jack left. For years, he just sat in his dorm room, alone, pining for the boy he'd probably never see again. And then Josh came into his life and everything changed. It felt good to be with him. Really…good.
"Are you two finished?"
David turned his head to see Sarah smirking from the doorway, her hands on her hips. Sheepishly, he unwound his arms from Josh's neck and wiped his lips.
"Uncle David!" there was a cry from the apartment and a blur leapt out and tackled him into a hug. A series of loud yips followed.
David glanced down to see a boy of around ten with ridiculously thick, black hair, pale skin and a fox-like face with piercing brown eyes. The yipping belonged to a large border collie with a spiked collar. David saw the out of place, glittery pink tag dangling off of the thick, leather collar and nearly blanched.
"Liberace's still alive?" he sputtered.
"He's my doggie!" Allen chirped. "Mine, all mine!"
He let go of David's waist and hugged the dog tightly.
"You know, for someone who hasn't seen me his entire life, almost, he sure is affectionate," David observed wryly.
"And whose fault is that?" Sarah raised a brow.
"I know, I know," he replied. "But I got busy."
She eyed Josh. "I can tell."
David saw the flinty-eyed look she had and knew that she probably didn't like him. Of course, this was just based on appearance. They'd go in and she'd see what a wonderful guy he was once she got to talking with him.
"So, David," she said. "Are you just going to stand there looking like a doofus or are you going to come in and say hello?"
What he wanted to say was how much she sounded like their mother, but she'd probably kill him on the spot.
"Coming," he said with a small smile.
It faded, however, the moment he stepped into the apartment and let his eyes rest on the couch. Seated there in his stubble-faced, shaggy haired, denim-jacketed beauty…was Jack.