Disclaimer: See initial chapter.

A/N: Please forgive any typos - I'm trying not to be obsessive about grammar. Also, the OC's won't really feature much in this story. It's mostly about the boys and high school, which, I understand has just started up on the mainland for many people (we've been back at school for a couple of months now where I live). So, Happy Back to School, if anyone reading this happens to be a student, or a teacher.

Juan was in deep shit, he had to find a way to evade Trager so that he could get out of going to the nurse. The nurse, if she was any good, would see that he had bruises that couldn't be explained away by his scuffle with Trager. He didn't need another run in with Child Protective Services (CPS). That one time, when he was five, was why he went to great pains to make sure that no one could see the marks left on him by whoever it was that his mother was dating at the time.

His stomach felt like it was on fire and his chin felt like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer rather than a fist. It wasn't anything new to him, but he could usually crawl beneath the covers of his bed and sleep the pain off after Tony'd used him as a punching bag. He didn't have that option here, though.

"Quit dragging your feet," Trager said, wincing and pressing fingers to his split lip. He stopped walking when Juan stalled at the entrance to another hallway.

"Don't even think about it," Trager said, as though he could read Juan's mind. "It may not look like it, but I can run, and you're not going to like it when I catch up to you.."

"Asshole," Juan muttered beneath his breath.

"Look, you were the one who attacked me, sunshine," Trager said, stopping so suddenly that Juan bumped into him for the second time that morning. "You got off easy. If Morrow hadn't come along when he did, you'd be dead."

Trager fisted the front of Juan's shirt and lifted him off of his feet. Juan tried not to panic, tried not to be afraid of the other boy, tried to tell himself, and then believe, that, because they were in a school the boy wouldn't do anything to him. In his past experience, though, kids did whatever they wanted, to whomever they wanted, and no one really got in trouble for it.

"Let me go," Juan said, struggling in Trager's hold, scratching at the boy's fists, because he was starting to panic.

"Fine," Trager said, and he shoved Juan away from him, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The anger from earlier, mostly directed at Tony, had subsided, but Juan scrambled to his feet and got ready to fight anyway. He might have to take all of the crap that Tony dished out to him, because the man was bigger and stronger than him, and he provided shelter for his mother and sister, but he didn't have to take anything from bullies like Trager.

His days of taking crap from bullies were over. Juan wasn't going to let anyone push him around anymore. He hadn't known how to fight in middle school, but he knew how to fight now, and, after years of dealing with assholes like Tony, Juan figured that there wasn't anything that the jerks in school could really do to him which would be worse than what he'd already been through.

"What the hell is your problem anyway?" Trager asked grabbing Juan by the arm and pulling him along the hallway.

"You're my problem," Juan said, trying to shrug free of Trager's grip.

Trager laughed. "Gee, that's original."

"Why the fuck do you care if I go to the nurse anyway?" Juan asked, scowling.

"Watch your mouth, sunshine," Trager said. "You don't want a teacher to catch you swearing, do you?"

"I still don't see why I need to go to the nurse," Juan said, biting his tongue when Trager squeezed his cheeks with his fingers.

"What the fuck is that?" Trager said, wiping his fingers on Juan's hoodie, leaving a smear of his sister's foundation on it. "You wearing makeup?"

He looked sidelong at Juan and pulled back a little, though he didn't release his hold on Juan. "You a fag?" he asked, voice more curious than disgusted.

Juan shivered, and shook his head. "I ain't no fucking fag," he said, the very thought of another guy touching him like that made him sick to his stomach.

There'd been one boyfriend of his mother's who'd done some of that kind of stuff to him, a couple years ago, before his mother had met Tony. He'd touched him and other things that Juan refused to think about - told him that if he said anything about it, he'd kill him. Juan had believed him, hadn't uttered a single word about it.

In a lot of ways, Tony was better than Sam. At least Tony wasn't a sicko. He left him and Tina alone in that way. It was a relief, not having to sleep with one eye open, or a knife under his pillow.

"Easy, princess," Trager said, sniggering. "If you ain't a homo, or one of them emo kids, then how come you're wearing makeup?"

Juan bit his tongue. He didn't have to tell the older boy squat. It wasn't any business of his anyway.

"See, I think you're wearing makeup because, secretly, you're a queer, only maybe you don't realize it yet. Like, maybe you're conflicted or something," Trager mused aloud, lips pursed. "Or, maybe you're one of those kids that cuts themselves, what are they called...emo? You got cuts underneath all that crap you're wearing?"

Trager pulls at the sleeve of Juan's black hoodie, and Juan jerks his sleeve down. There aren't any cuts to be found there, but he doesn't like the thought of Trager making any more snap judgements about him.

There's just one long scar that runs from the inside of his elbow to his wrist. It had been an accident. The knife had slipped. His mother hadn't meant to do it. He'd gotten stitches. The doctor had asked so many questions that it made him dizzy at the time, but Juan had kept his mouth shut and clung to his mother's hand.

Juan rolled his eyes, wondering how a thug like Trager knew such big words like conflicted, and whether or not he'd seen the scar that Juan kept hidden. He didn't want to be asked any more questions.

"It's none of your business," he said, mindful of his tongue. Though Trager was a fucking hypocrite, he didn't want the older boy to call him out again.

"You like to wear dresses?" Trager asked, completely ignoring Juan. "Sometimes I put on a pair of girl's panties, you know, just to feel the silk and lace -"

"That's disgusting," Juan interrupted, wrinkling his nose and shuddering. "The only time I wore a dress was when my little sister, Tina, wanted to have a tea party, and..." Juan slammed a hand over his mouth and mentally scolded himself.

They'd been little kids at the time - he'd been six and his sister four. She hadn't been invited to a classmate's party and Juan had wanted to cheer her up. He hadn't really enjoyed himself - the dress had been scratchy against his skin, and he'd felt very 'exposed'. Overall, it wasn't an experience that he wanted to repeat, ever.

Trager chuckled and then steered him down another hallway. "Did you have finger sandwiches and crumpets?"

Juan felt like they were walking in a labyrinth or in circles, and he was starting to get worried. What was to stop Trager from stuffing him into a locker or into some closet and telling the principal that he'd run off?

Juan shook his head, and spoke without thinking,"It was a little kid tea party. We had crackers with peanut butter and jelly, and koolaid."

"Fuck, I ask for your life story?" Trager said gruffly, gently shaking him..

It wasn't really a question and Juan knew better than to treat it as one. Knew better than to open his big mouth again lest he say something even more stupid or get himself into even more trouble than he was already in. Tony had already promised him a beating for slamming the door that morning, what was he going to do when the principal called?

Feedback would be greatly appreciated - coveted, valued.