Disclaimer: Magz does not own any rights to the Bully game.

Author's Note: Wednesday morning I will be leaving for an adventure to North Dakota (pretty exciting state, right?), so I will not be able to post any new chapters until Saturday or Sunday. I should be able to put up quite a few though, so that's good.

Ps: Did you know that I have used some form of the word 'eye' in every single chapter so far?

Kai19999: Thanks! I'm somewhat afraid that the big bang of my story won't be dramatic enough. ;-; That's probably just me being worrisome though.

EvilChick101: I'm trying to actually give Troy a personality, but it's kinda hard. The only reason I created him was so that I could name the story after Lola's quote. I never even noticed that there was already a character named Troy though. . Thanks for the review!

A Boy Named Troy

Chapter Fourteen

Gord stepped out into a biting winter breeze, chilling twin trails of tears that had already fallen down his cheeks. The thought of going to his locker and grabbing his black wool coat had crossed his mind, but he dismissed it upon seeing Troy chatting up a young lady all too close to it. He knew that girls would love the new clothes. Now he was left standing outside the main doors, freezing, with nowhere to go. There was no chance that he would attend his last class. No, he simply could not let anymore see what a mess he had become. He could not head back to the beach house either though. "Oh maybe I am just overreacting." he moaned to himself, beginning to take careful steps down the icy stairs. Not wanting to be caught skipping by one of the blue-suited gorilla prefects, he left school grounds. He just walked and walked until he stopped. Gord looked around. He had ended up standing at the end of the weathered dock, looking out at a polluted lake. Inside he felt almost empty, leaving his body numb to the cold, a worthless weight too heavy to support. Gord crumbled and sat down in the snow, dangling his feet over the edge. He just sat.

It was a long time before anyone disrupted his dreary peace, the material of his pants had somewhat begun to stick to the surface he was seated upon. Gord stopped crying after a short while though. Contemplating the situation allowed him to give some thought about Jim's point of view. In the middle of a petite crowd of people who James demanded respect from, Gord had sprung upon their personal life, even bringing up subjects they had never addressed aloud. "It was rather silly of me to become so worked up over this." he told himself as he had begun to stand. The prep felt better. Not completely content yet, but the sad emotions inside of him had let up a little.

Before Gord could turn around, probably to stroll down to the beach house and prepare an apology and a hot cup of anything, a rather large shadow fell upon him. "Hey Gordo, what was silly for you to get all worked up about?" The former prep actually gulped, recognizing a frighteningly familiar accent.

Cowering a touch, Gord faced the man behind him. The man whose height soared far beyond his own. The man who was a leader, not a follower. The man who scared Gord senseless ever since he was caught fooling around with his tramp more than a year ago. "V-Vincent!" he shakily greeted. He knew that he should not show weakness in front of Johnny, but it was incredibly hard not to. Summoning up all of his snobby courage by reminding himself that no matter what the greaser did Gord would always be richer, he was able to say, "I have already apologized and paid you off a multitude of times. So if you'd please, just leave me alone, I am not in the mood." without his voice cracking too much. As he tried to brush past the greasy leader, he was somewhat roughly stopped by a hand latching onto his shoulder.

"Oh come on, Gordy ol' boy. I ain't trying to mess with ya or nothin'. Can't a guy just wonder what's upsettin' one of his old classmates?"

Gord shook a little, from both fear and the cold finally beginning to set in. "I am not quite sure what you are talking about; I am fine."

"You don't look it." The smaller of the two turned up his nose indignantly at having his words (no matter how false they were) questioned by someone so far below him. The gesture gave Gord the unpleasant chance to catch a glimpse of mangled flesh that had once been an earlobe, making his stomach churn. "Congratulations on snaggin' Hopkins, by the way." Johnny never loosened his painfully tight grip.

"How do you know about us?"

"I would neva ditch my clique and they would neva ditch me. I get all of Bullworth's news, especially junk about the great king." Gord just nodded, not sure of what the strong, scary male wanted with him. "Always knew he wasn't swingin' for the same team as me. Ain't no straight man that can resist my Lola while working so close with her." Gord quickly remembered some of Jimmy's boasting about how he had gotten further with the grease harlot than the prep. He, as anyone person that was right in the head, felt that it would be unwise to bring up any such things. "I remember when he was with that blonde kid for awhile. Whatever happened with that, they seemed so happy an' all?"

"They were not right for one another."

"Not like you and Jimbo?" Although Gord could not imagine that this rhetorical question was innocent, he was unable to detect any sort of malicious undertone. "Man, those two would sure go at it. Everywhere too: dorms, school hallways, classroom. Hell, I even caught them screwin' around in that old abandoned bus." Gord gritted his teeth, trying his best to block out the oaf's meaningless words. "What was blondy's name anyways?" The greaser snapped his free hand a few times, as if the motion would somehow pull up the answer. "Tad, Trent… Troy?"

The last possibility made Gord wince and he was starting to feel his recently dry eyes well up once again. "Trent." the simple answer came out no more than a whisper.

"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right. Trent and Jimmy. Jimmy and Trent. Musta screwed up real big to get Jim to leave him; kid was so attached." The tears were no longer willing to be kept back. Gord was on a shabby dock, being held captive by one of his worst enemies, and crying. If only someone could dispose of the mess that had once been a proper wealthy youth right then.

The prep honestly thought that he might have died from shame had a voice not called out and saved him. "Hey Mockingbird!" Vance was exiting from the bicycle shop quite a ways from where Gord stood. He had no idea how the greaser was able to see him so far away, when, if he had not shouted, Gord was unsure if he would even be able to recognize him. "Johnny?" he questioned loud enough to let the suspicion register in their ears. His pace quickened and soon Vance was right up with the other two. Vincent removed his grubby hand from Gord. "I thought I told you not to mess none with him." The prep was surprised at how threatening his friend sounded to the leader.

"What? You think I was the one what gave him all dem pretty tears?" Vance just stood firmly. "We was just talkin' about mighty Jimmy, that's all. Ain't that right, Gordo?"

Gord weakly nodded, leaving his friend to say, "But you guys are all done now, right?"

"Yeah. See ya round." Johnny jerked his head upwards before stalking off.

Gord barely waited a second after Vincent disappeared from sight before flinging himself at his very close friend. "Oh Vance!" he gasped without dignity into the greaser's ear as he clung tightly to him. He let his tears flow freely now, feeling a familiar sense of security. "You always seem to be my knight in wretched cow-skinned armor."

The slightly shorter greaser firmly held Gord to keep him from pulling away, not that he wanted to do so. "An' I always will be… unless you ain't good with that."

"With what? The atrocious attire or the heroic behavior?" They both laughed, Gord's bringing on hollow wheezes for air and more teardrops. When they finally let go of each other, they remained close enough so that their clouds of breath mingled. Vance loosely held one of the prep's wrists, but he did not care so much at that moment.

"What was Johnny doing to you?"

"Oh, that." Gord shook his head, sighing in annoyance at his foolishness. "He was actually attempting to play nice; at least, I think he was."

"Then what's got ya so worked up?"

"Well, I had a bit of a spat with Jim earlier." Vance did not look surprised. The word had probably made its way around the whole school by then. "How am I to face him now?" Gord pathetically moaned aloud. "I have made such a big mess out of everything!"

A thumb with dirt trapped under its nail began to slowly move back and forth across Gord's chilled skin. "Ya know, from what I heard, I think he's the one at fault."

"Come again?"

"Hopkins is in the wrong. If I had someone like you, I wouldn't be 'fraid to tell how much I cared about them no matta who was listening! I don't think you care if you find the right person." Vance's inviting hand let go and was soon brushing Gord's pink tearstained cheek. "Mockingbird, you are worth enough to know exactly what some guy thinks of you."

Next was when Vance did something truly unfair. Gord leaned in and brashly pushed his frozen lips onto the greaser's, wanting to forget about all of his troubles. Vance did not stop the confused, hurt prep. In fact, he deepened the wrong kiss by gripping the back of the brunette's head with one hand and the middle of his back with his other one. "You're so cold." the auburn haired male mumbled. It was the last thing he would be able to say before a desperate Gord parted his lips.

Gord would not make it back to the beach house that night, but would wake the next morning with a nonalcoholic hangover in Bullworth's boy dorm.