Nowhere Man

-By Yo-yo

Disclaimer: C chappie #1.

I've just seen a face:

"…practically joined at the hip…"

"She's really nice, though. And she knows a lot about music."

Louise and Madeline join me.

"What, jealous?" Jase chuckles.

"No, I just never thought I'd meet another Lane."

The daggers that shoot from Louise's eyes in their direction don't escape me.

I can see what she means. Yesterday they spoke of nothing but music- most of it I'd never heard of before. They had found a lot in common-

"Instant kindred spirits," she rolls her eyes and pushes from the locker she'd been leaning on.

They are a lot alike. Their eclectic tastes disrupt the uniformity Chilton was built upon. Their rebellion threatens the conformity on which Hartford society thrives.

They are the answers to the Highlights books:

Which of these things do not belong?

"Hey Man, where were you last night? I tried your cell a few times."

"Jan's, I haven't touched my phone since practice on Wednesday."

"I didn't think you'd go anywhere near the old man after the incident. He was pissed when he called my house that night."

"Well," I push the cafeteria doors open. "I'd rather deal with 'the old man' rather than 'my old man' who's on his way back as we speak."

"Ha," he claps my back, "serves you right, making out with Terlington."

"You only say that because you wished it were you," I smirk.

"You think you're funny. But may I remind you, Margaret Terlington and I have- how shall I say, intertwined on several occasions," he set his bag on the table. "And having realized how desperate she is for Any cock, I've kept my distance. She's dirty, and I don't need that."

"I agree, but she was there and so was Sadie. I'd do anything to get rid of that needy whore, even make out with a dumb one."

"You guys are mean." Lane punches my arm and settles beside me.

Jason laughs. "Where's Tweedle-Dee, Tweedle-Dum?"

"Huh?"

"He's referring to your new best friend, Mary."

"Tristan," she admonishes me. "I can't believe you call her that. Gosh, you're such an ass."

"What's up?" Paris puts her tray on the table.

"Tristan's being his usually crude self," she shoots me a glare.

"Anyways," Jason thrusts a Tupperware dish at me. "Mom made your favorite. She wanted me to give this to you."

"Stuffed peppers and chili, the lunch of champions," I thrust my fork in the dish.

"Maybe you should save the chili for after practice," Lane frowns. "The combination of spicy food and beans could lower your erg scores, and today is Friday."

I groan.

Two K days are the bane and highlight of my existence. It sucks because we have to do two thousand meters in the shortest amount of time possible three times. But after all we do is a technical warm-down and the day is over. We're out 45 minutes early.

"I told you to join soccer." Jason dips his spoon into his own chili.

"Tease." I frown, gulping down water.

"So, party at Janet's, everyone still up for it?" Lane munches on a slice of pizza.

"I'm up," Louise grins.

"Me too," Maddie chirps.

"Rory, what about you?"

She startles at her name, her eyes jumping from the page of the book she is reading.

Jude the Obscure… hmm. Interesting choice on her part.

"Do you want to go to a party with us Saturday night?"

A blush rushes to her face as she finds everyone's eyes on her. She looks away. Her eyes finding cover in the printed pages of the book.

"I can't, we're moving that day. And I have to catch up on a week and half of missing assignments."

"Fine," Louise turns away, a knowing smirk on her face.

I cannot understand girls.

'So, what do you think of the Gilmore chick?'

Jason's sloppy scrawl broke me of my daydream about Evie's chili.

'Exactly what I've been saying all along, a Mary. You saw the way she blushed when Lane asked her that question? Classic Mary reaction.' I reply.

'No, didn't see her blush, but she's definitely shy. Really quiet. Lane says she reads a lot.'

'Been asking Lane about her? What, you like her or something?'

'No, she's just different, ya know? Don't meet too many of them in these hallowed halls.'

I nod as I read his words. Her being not like everyone else just draws you to her. You want to know her because she is an enigma in our world. There's not much mystery here.

'I agree.' I write back, just about to slip the answer to him when-

"Mr. DuGrey, come to my desk please."

I gulp and look up at Dr. Marx.

He's looking at me expectantly and I know he can see the swatch of paper between my fingers.

Standing up, I make my way towards his desk, casually sticking the note in my pants pocket as I pray my expression doesn't betray the humiliation I am about to endure.

"Dr. Marx?" I stand before him.

"Here," he hands me a folded note to my surprise. "A message from the office."

I can't believe it. I didn't even notice the office girl slipping through the door.

"Take your seat Mr. DuGrey," annoyance laces his voice.

"Oh yea," I smirk. "Thanks." I stroll back to my desk, flicking the correspondence note back to Jase as I sit.

I open the office letter that reads:

I, Coach Dempsey, will excuse Tristan DuGrey from practice on Friday, January -, 2001, by request of his family member, a Mr. Loren DuGrey, father. Aforementioned family member has requested that said student, Tristan DuGrey, immediately vacate the Chilton Campus, to be enforced by faculty and staff with the approved punishment of school suspension. Upon vacating the property, said student, Tristan DuGrey must proceed home, entering the building no later than 3:15 pm. End of request, Dempsey.

Shit, I groan, re-reading the letter. I guess he is REALLY pissed.

'What's the note about?' Jason flicks the note on my desk.

I do not reply, but rather toss the office note onto his desk, wondering what is to await me back at the house.

The end of class bell rings throughout the halls and I sigh.

"Whoa!" Jase hands the note back and grabs his bag. "Remind me not to make out with a girl in the halls."

Alina's not there to greet me at the door. I know she has heard the car advancing. The gate informs the house of an approaching car. Something He got installed after narrowly missing Her catching Him with a 'client.'

There's no one in the foyer. I can hear commotion coming from upstairs.

I race to my room.

Standing outside my open door is Alina with an envelope in her hands and a frown on her face.

My name is written on His business stationary in His secretary's handwriting. Inside, it reads:

Tristan, we regret to inform you that due to your voluntary defiance, you must suffer the ramifications. Everything that brings you joy in your young life will be taken away from you as of Friday, January -, 2001, at 3:15 pm. All of the items taken will be returned to you at an undetermined time. As part of your negotiation, you are to meet with your father for dinner at 6:30 pm. In the time between then, you will remain in your room, no interactions with anyone except the maid. Signed, Loren DuGrey.

Just like Him, indirect parenting. He didn't even sign it.

Inside, my room- raped of all electronics. My cd collection- gutted and placed into boxes. The only possessions that pull electricity from the walls are my lamps and my alarm clock.

By four, everything is gone.

My former life as a playboy is gone and my life as an inmate in my own house, beginning.

I sit on my bed, staring at the walls I have never seen before. Walls that have been concealed since I can remember. Hidden with the people They decided I would admire. The walls suffocated by the bands They decided I would listen to.

Sitting on my bed I can hear it approaching me. Pushing the walls closer and I am suddenly claustrophobic. And the white walls are producing a white noise that pounds in my ears and keeps the time with the dripping water from the leaky faucet in my bathroom. And I cannot hear because the silence is deafening and piece by piece it is tearing into me, ripping me whole. I need to stop it somehow. Because I know why it is here. I know why the white walls pound. Why the white noise presses against my head.

I am alone with myself.

I launch into the closet, pushing past sports coats and trousers, under rows of shoes and a collection of ties, on the other side of khakis and polos, until I am in the jewelry box.

Beneath the Rolex and Cartier watches, under the silver and gold chains passed through DuGrey generations, deeper past the ring I will someday give to the girl I love, it lays nestled… a secret compartment where my secret stash in my secret flask of Daddy's most expensive scotch.

It goes down so smooth and packs a real punch… the punch is what I'm after. It's what I need.

Above the drawer in the mirror I've just seen a face. So beautiful and oh so sad it looks right back at me. A look asking for pity, begging for validation… but only through his eyes because although he doesn't want to admit it, he's just like them. He can read them all.

He is just like those he despises, he needs validation too.

Only there is no one there to give it to him.

TBC…