Disclaimer: see initial chapter.
A/N: Another round-robin of characters here, to give a little more background, subsequent chapters will focus on the point-of-view of a single character.
Warnings: see initial chapter, same apply here. The 'f' word is a favorite of many a teen; at least that has been my experience.
"Hold still," Tina said. Her lips were pursed, and she was barely an inch from Juan's face as she applied foundation to the fresh bruises on his face. "I'm almost done, stop squirming."
He'd never really been able to sit still, which often got him into trouble at school, and at home. Never been able to keep his mouth from saying something stupid, like this morning when he'd told Tony to keep his panties on as he passed the man on his way from the bathroom.
"You shouldn't've said anything to Tony," Tina scolded him as she dabbed at the bruise that was quickly forming on his cheek. "You'll be lucky if you don't have a black eye."
Juan shrugged, bit his tongue when his sister pressed against the bruise. It hurt, but he was grateful for the pain. Maybe it would remind him not to be so stupid next time, though he doubted it. If physical pain had worked like that for him, he'd have stopped talking altogether long ago.
His foot was bouncing, fingers twitching against his knees. If he didn't leave soon, he'd have to take the shortcut to school, which would put him directly in the path of the neighborhood gang-bangers. They were always bugging him, issuing threats, trying to get him into a gang, or to run something for them. He never did, but it always made him nervous. Sooner or later, something was going to happen, and Juan had a feeling that he'd run all out of chances.
Tina caught his fingers and squeezed. "You gonna be okay?"
Juan shot his sister a quick smile, and nodded. Truthfully, he felt sick to his stomach;his earlier confidence was nearly gone in the aftermath of his confrontation with Tony. He hadn't even left the apartment yet, and already, he was screwing up his first day of high school.
"How about you?" Juan asked his younger sister, knowing that he should be the one looking after her, and not the other way around. Tony didn't beat up on her, though. Just him, and sometimes their Ma.
Tina made a face and pushed him off her bed. She shoved him out the door and slammed it shut behind him.
"I can take care of myself," she shouted. "Get walking, or you're gonna be late for school."
His little sister was a force to be reckoned with, had been since Juan could remember. If she wanted something, she went for it, no matter what obstacles were in her way. Juan wished he could be a little more like her sometimes.
"Thanks," he called through the door, and laughed when a loud thunk - no doubt her shoe - was the only answer he got.
He bypassed the kitchen, where his mother was frying up some eggs and bacon. There were a couple slices of burnt toast - liberally smeared with peanut butter and jam from packets that Juan had swiped from a local diner - sitting on a plate.
"Juan, honey, come sit down for breakfast," his mother said. She had a cigarette stub dangling from her lips, and was in the middle of flipping an egg. When she turned, Juan caught sight of a dark bruise along her jaw, and his vision blurred.
"I'm not hungry," he said, trying to keep his anger under control.
He fisted his hands and breathed in and out through his nose, the way that the boxing coach at the Y had instructed when he'd taken classes that summer. Tired of being bullied, he'd wanted to learn how to defend himself, but against someone like Tony, who outweighed him by a couple hundred pounds, he didn't stand a chance.
Juan knew that he couldn't best Tony, even if the man decided to fight fair for a change, but it didn't keep him from wanting to punch him. He held his breath and counted to ten, but the anger and the desire to beat Tony to a pulp for hitting his mother didn't ease any.
Tony was in the living room, watching TV, already working on his second beer. He didn't even look up when Juan walked past the living room to the front door. Didn't even acknowledge Juan's presence at all, just kept drinking his beer and watching some stupid cartoon on TV, laughing like a fucking retard.
Juan grabbed his backpack with a little more force than necessary, and swung it over his shoulder. He scowled in Tony's direction, and started when a hand landed on his shoulder. His mother shoved a brown paper bag into his hands, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, wiping off the lipstick she'd accidentally left on his cheek with her thumb.
"Smells like something's burning," Tony grunted, eyes rolling in their direction.
Juan was practically trembling in an effort to keep his temper under control. Heated words were forming in his mind, and nearly on his lips, but his mother shook her head and placed a finger on his lips.
"Have a good day at school, honey," his mother whispered, and she smiled and then walked back to the kitchen.
Juan turned away from Tony, barely resisting the urge that he had to tell the man to get off his fat ass and make his own damn breakfast. He was so angry about Tony that his nerves about his first day of high school had all but disappeared. It was with a scowl that he left the apartment, slamming the door behind him as he left, and ignoring the shouted warning from Tony that made its way through the thin walls.
Alex tossed a couple of Twinkies, a haphazardly constructed peanut butter, pickle, and cheese sandwich, a baggie filled with chips, most of which were broken or crushed, and two sodas into a brown paper bag and headed out the front door, ignoring his mother's shouted goodbye. He jumped on his bike, sans helmet, and revved the engine, gripped the brown paper bag tightly around the handlebar and sped off, his front wheel popping up off the ground.
He let out a whoop, and tore off along the road, sticking up his middle finger when Mrs. Newcomb peeked through the curtains of her front window and scowled at him. He grinned when the curtains swooshed back into place, but not before he caught the look of scandalized shock on the elderly woman's face. A little shock would probably do her a world of good, might make her a lot more
He turned his attention back to the road when the front wheel of his bike caught on something and his bike started to swerve toward the center line. He got it back under control and sped up, going well over the lame speed limit that was posted on the side streets. Twenty-five miles an hour was way too slow, and Alex took it as a suggestion, rather than a rule.
That's how Alex saw most rules - as suggestions, or as something to be broken. He didn't think that rules should apply to everyone, because not everyone was the same. School was always hammering home that point, and yet society was trying to put them all into the same damn box.
He felt free when he was on his bike, which had been a gift from his father on his tenth birthday. If a rusted out frame and a pile of parts, some of which weren't even meant for a bike, that could fit in a cardboard box could be considered a gift. It had taken him three years to gather the missing parts and put his bike together and then another year to get it in working order.
It was the only gift his father had given him that held any value for him. His mother had envisioned the bike as a project that would bring father and son together. That hadn't happened, and Alex was glad of it.
His father was a two-timing, drunk bastard, and Alex didn't want to owe the man anything. He had to carry the man's genetic material, but he'd be damned if he let his old man take pride in anything else that had to do with his upbringing.
As far as Alex was concerned, his mother was a single parent, raising him on her own. His father didn't deserve to be called a father, or a husband. If the man wasn't working, he was drinking, or fucking some whore, or beating on Alex and his wife. As far as Alex was concerned, the man should've taken out his frustration on the whores, not his son or wife.
Alex shook off his thoughts, pushed his bike to its max, and threw his arms out wide, riding the wind. He was flying. Maybe he'd get some weed from Herman, blow off school, and get high as a fucking kite. Though, if he did that, he wouldn't get to harass the freshmen on their first day of high school and scope out the fuckable babes.
He took the turn to the school, giving Principal Unser the finger on his way past the man. He came to a screeching halt in front of a group of girls and smiled when they gave him dirty looks.
Jax's head felt like it was going to explode, and he knew that he only had himself to blame for it. He liked drinking. Liked getting drunk and hanging out with Opie.
"Here." Opie handed him a pair of sunglasses, and Jax smiled at him in gratitude.
Opie always seemed to know what he needed, often before Jax even realized that he needed it. It was almost like Opie could read his mind, which didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought that it should.
"Thanks," Jax grunted, donning the sunglasses and resting his head on the back of the seat.
His throat had a tickle in it, and he wondered if he was coming down with the flu, again, or if it was just the aftermath of partying a little too hard the night before. He groaned, wondering why he'd thought it was a good idea to do suicide shots and drink a dozen, maybe more, beers. He thought he remembered pot factoring into the equation, but couldn't be sure. Not that it mattered now, when his head felt like it was going to explode.
The sunglasses were a godsend, and Jax wondered why he hadn't thought to grab his own before he'd left his house. Probably had something to do with the hammer and chisel act going on in his head.
When are those pills going to kick in? he wondered, closing his eyes and pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples. He rubbed small circles into his temples as he waited for the pain to subside.
He felt fingers at the back of his neck, massaging, and sighed because it felt good as tension seemed to bleed from his neck and shoulders. Tension he hadn't even realized, until that moment, was there. Opie's fingers were instruments of magic, and Jax moaned a little obscenely.
"God, that feels good," Jax murmured. "Fuck, Ope, I think I'm in love."
The fingers stilled, and Jax's heart slammed against his ribcage as he realized what he'd said. He swallowed the panic that rose in his gut, and wished that he'd kept a tighter reign on his tongue.
He laughed, like what he'd just said had been nothing more than a joke. It sounded hollow and fake in his own ears, and he worried that Opie could hear it - the fakeness. Worried that Opie would pull the car over to the side of the road and kick him out, make him walk the rest of the way to school. Worried that Opie would stop being his best friend if he knew the truth about his feelings for him, about how he sometimes lay awake at night and wondered what it would be like to sleep together, in the same bed, like they'd done when they were kids, except naked, limbs tangled together.
He relaxed and settled back in the seat when Opie resumed the massage. Kept his mouth firmly shut, and his eyes focused on the dashboard.
Shit, almost blew it there, Teller, Jax chastised. If he wasn't careful, Opie was going to know that he maybe liked him a little more than he should.
Jax had spent the entire summer, when he hadn't been working at his father's shop, trying to sort out his feelings for his best friend, reasoning with himself that, even if it was okay for him to like another guy, Opie wouldn't feel the same way he did about him.
He'd dated girl after girl and gotten laid every chance he could get. Still, it hadn't erased the conflicting feelings he had for his best friend, hadn't removed the images that his mind had conjured up of what it would be like to kiss and maybe fool around with Opie in the backseat of his car, or in Opie's bedroom with the doors locked and the curtains pulled shut.
He breathed a little easier when Opie chuckled and said, "You just love me for my dashing good looks and my deft fingers."
"Yeah," Jax agreed, trying not to imagine what it would be like to have Opie's fingers working out some of the other kinks that he had. For now, he'd take what he could get, and let Opie's fingers take away some of the self-inflicted pain in his head.
Opie almost stopped breathing when he heard Jax say, "I think I'm in love," even though he knew that Jax hadn't really meant the words to be taken seriously.
They'd been spoken purely in response to Opie massaging his neck. They didn't mean anything. Even so, he felt himself blushing, and it was far too long before he continued to massage Jax's neck.
He tried playing it off like Jax's words hadn't meant anything to him either. Tried to play it cool, but the truth was that he kind of felt like saying the words himself.
Foolish.
He was being foolish.
And, fuck, fuck, fuck. If he wasn't careful he was going to creep out his best friend and send Jax running for the hills.
Fuck my life, the words were quickly becoming his new mantra. Life had gone from bad to worse in the span of a car ride to school.
Opie knew what Liz would say. His little sister's voice echoed in his head, mocking him. 'Just kiss him, you big dope.'
Yeah, right, Opie thought. Just kiss him, and send him running for the hills.
Liz didn't know what she was talking about, though. She didn't know what it was like to be in love with your best friend and not be able to say or do anything about it. She was just a kid. A nosy, stupid little kid who was a pain in the ass.
"Uh, Ope?" Jax's voice pulled him from his musings, and Opie looked in his direction, a smile ready on his face.
There was a crooked smile on Jax's lips, and Opie had an insane urge to reach across the seat and kiss him. Thankfully sanity prevailed and he returned his attention to the road, kept his hands firmly on the wheel, and ignored his stupid sister's teasing voice, the laughter that he conjured up in his head, and the aching in his gut.
"I think you missed the turn off, " Jas said. "The school's back that way."
He turned to look behind them, tapping the window, and Opie wished that something would swallow him. Anything would do. The car cushions, the dashboard, the floorboards, hell, a black hole appearing out of nowhere.
If he could die right now, his life would be so much easier. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks, but he did his best to shrug off the embarrassment.
If he hadn't been so focused on how Jax's skin had felt beneath the tips of his fingers, how the teen's tense muscles had given way beneath his ministrations, he wouldn't have missed the turn off to school.
He was good and royally fucked. Opie wondered if Jax had a clue. Prayed that he didn't, because he didn't want to lose his best friend over something like this.
The longer he downplayed his feelings and pushed aside his urges to kiss and touch and do other things with Jax, the easier it would get. At least, that's what he'd been telling himself. So far, it hadn't worked, but he had hope that, in the end, his trip down the river, denial, would work. He just couldn't stray from it.
Opie waited for a school us to pick up kids and then he made an illegal U-turn. Everyone did it. It was ridiculous to drive to the stop light ahead. Besides, there was no one else around, just some crazy kid on a motorcycle, and Opie'd waited for him to go on by before initiating the turn.
He wondered what it would be like to have a motorcycle. If it would be as freeing as he thought it would. It was a foolish dream, his mother would never let him get a motorcycle.. She was completely against them. Called them, 'death traps,' and, 'agents of the devil'.
The kid on the motorcycle turned into the school parking lot, just ahead of them, and then held up traffic to flirt with a group of girls. Opie rolled his eyes, and growing impatient, he honked his horn. The kid turned around, grinned widely, and gave Opie the finger, but stayed put. Jax returned the smile and the gesture.
Great start to the first day of school, Opie thought as he waited for the kid to finally move.
Please review and let me know if you like this, and if you want to read more. Thanks, reviews let me know if I should continue working on a story (and are greatly appreciated)