N/A: New chapter, new character, more Damian, more Cameron. I hope that you guys like it! Love every single one of your reviews and please send me more. They're my motivation to continue this 'cause it's how I know that someone's reading and liking this story! =) Thank you, Helen McMitchell, for everything!


Chapter Three

The Problem

Finally, Monday arrived. Cameron couldn't wait to get out of his house. His lip looked normal again, just a little redder than usual. His eye, however, was a disgrace. Actually it was just a little reddish, but the effect of that on his pale skin was awfully noticeable. Before going out, Cameron peeked out of his bedroom door to verify that the day was promising to be sunny, thank God. He put on his sunglasses, grabbed his backpack and car keys and went out.

Fortunately, he didn't have classes along with the Systems of Information class that day. Cameron sat on one of the first desks – how embarrassing! – on the corner and took his glasses off when the Philosophy teacher arrived. He arranged his hair so they would cover his eye and growled to anyone who tried to get his attention. He was highly feared and respected in his class, so he didn't get teased or bothered by them. Except for Lindsay, who insisted in sitting next to him, glancing at him and complaining about being ignored all weekend. Damn McGinty!

Cameron was hoping that his father would be a couple of days late and was relieved when he didn't find him home at lunch time. He took a shower and put on a blue shirt, grey pants and a tie, completing a colorful, but discrete look. His father would have liked him to have his hair impeccably combed, but with some luck he wouldn't even see his father that day.

Getting in the company building, he went straight to his office.

"Good afternoon, Nikki." He greeted his secretary when he passed by her in the anteroom.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell." Nikki Anders was really pretty, even with her thirty seven years and two kids. She was tall and slim, had a pleasant voice and a nice smile.

Cameron was hoping his secretary would be a naïve eighteen year old girl with a provocative cleavage and a tiny skirt and was disappointed when he was introduced to Nikki, but she had turned out to be a great person, mature and captivating. Cameron had formed a nice friendship with her, and actually talked a lot more freely with her than with his own mother.

He got in his office, put his briefcase on the desk and let himself fall on the chair. The room was large and comfortable. There was a big desk on the centre – organized, thanks to Nikki– with a few patted swivel chairs; a side door that lead to the bathroom, some plants, in an attempt from Nikki to decorate his office; a huge see-through glass window that had a view of thousands of buildings and cars; on the walls there were two paintings, one was a beautiful sight of a blue sky and green grass and the other was in blue tones, without a clear picture; there was also a red couch and chair on the wall opposite to the bathroom. He used them in his relaxation times – naps.

"I hate Mondays." He grumbled to the office ceiling.

The phone rang and he answered it immediately.

"Mitchell."

"Mr. Mitchell, may I come in?" Nikki's soft voice asked delicately.

"Alright." Cameron hung up the phone and opened his briefcase grabbing some reports he hadn't analyzed yet. There were two knocks on the door before it opened.

"Excuse me." Nikki's high heels made a muffled sound on the carpet while she closed the door behind her and walked to Cameron, handing him several papers. "Mr. Mitchell left these separate for me to deliver to you today. He said they're urgent. Tomorrow there will be a meeting with the staff…" While accepting the papers, Cameron had moved his hair from his eye, exposing his purple eye. "What happened, Cameron?"

"What?"

"What happened to your eye?"

Cameron chuckled and put his hair behind his ear, exposing his entire face.

"I got in trouble in college. What else could it be?"

"Oh, Cameron…" Nikki put her hands on his hips and frowned at him. "What did McGinty do this time?"

Cameron half-smiled sarcastically and gestured her to sit down.

"He won Saturday's game, that's what he did. My father will skin me alive, this purple eye is nothing compared to the red marks I'll have all over my magnificent skinny body."

Nikki laughed at the exaggerate, arrogant performance.

"You're laughing, aren't you? But it's not funny at all, Nikki. I had to win this game for my team, do you understand? It was my first game, I had to start by kicking ass, but instead I got my ass kicked. I lost my temper and insulted those filthy little friends of him. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry. I did punch him in the nose, though!"

Nikki shook her head.

"There are things a lot more important than games, Cameron. You shouldn't care so much about that."

"But it's like he does it on purpose! Actually, I know he does it on purpose. He takes everything from me, Nikki! He takes my glory, my acknowledgement … he drives me crazy. I can't stand that dawn Irish. I hate him!" Cameron had gotten up from his chair and started walking back and forth, like a tiger on a cage.

"Calm down, Cameron!" Nikki tried to reason with him, but the boy's eyes were bright with anger and his lips were just thin lines.

"Calm? I wish I could be calm when the matter is him, but no! I can't! I work hard to please my father in everything, you know, every little detail. I got in college in the course he chose for me; I get excellent grades so he'll be proud of me; I do my best in every job he gives me; I'm participative in meetings to impress our allies, collaborators and competitors; I'm polite with whom deserves my respect, I always look presentable, I'm cold and superior, like a true Mitchell should be. But when that ridiculous kid gets in my way I throw it all away, I embarrass my father; I lower myself to his level. The perfect McGinty, the hurting orphan and fighter, the pride of everyone! And what does he do for that? Absolutely nothing! He gets the credit for his moron parents while I give everything I've got trying to impress my father!"

"Cameron?" Nikki called delicately, making the boy stop and bury his face in his hands.

"You see? Just talking about him makes me look like a jealous, cranky child!"

Cameron sat on his chair taking a long breath, forcing his emotions from his posture.

"What do I do?" He asked Nikki as if they were talking about business.

"See, Cameron, I think you're obsessed with this boy." Cameron frowned, but didn't say a word. "You created this pejorative view of him on your subconscious, since the moment you met him. You let yourself take by the press, by what you hear of him, but a lot of those things are distorted from being passed from mouth to mouth. People are a lot more than the articles that quote their names, than the stories we hear of them, people are complex, full of repressed feelings, secrets and a lot more details than we can know by just being a bystander. It'd be foolish of me to advise you to ignore him, because I know that's impossible for you, so I'm going to advise you to do the exact opposite: investigate him. You have the thirst to know what's going on in his life, to discover his secrets, to unravel his mystery, so you won't rest while you don't quench that thirst. Try to get to know him, watch him, but be open to a new conception of him, be impartial, forget all you know or think you know about him and see him with other eyes."

"Nikki" Cameron said with a smirk on his face "if you're suggesting me to become friends with him, let me just tell you…"

"No, Cameron, that's not what I'm saying. I'm telling you to watch him, investigate him…"

"Spy on him?"

"If you'd rather call it that… my point is, you should look for an actual reason of your aversion to him, because… Cameron, you know I've always been honest with you, don't you…"

"I know, Nikki, I'm very grateful for that, now spill it out!" he said impatient.

"I'm not a psychologist, but you know I've always been interested in reading those kinds of books. In my opinion, all that hate you have for him had a childish reason: the rejection you suffered when you were eleven years old." Cameron made an outraged sound, but didn't stop her. "Because of that, either you find a real reason to hate him, or you convince yourself that he's nothing like you imagine he is."

Cameron opened his mouth several time to protest, but ended up snorting and resting his head on one of his hands.

"You know, Nikki, maybe you're right. I said maybe!" Nikki held back a smile at the almost-acceptance of the boy. "And, because you put ideas in my head, I am now obligated to prove to you that he's the idiotic moron I think he is."

"Great! I'm looking forward to that! Now I'll leave you alone with your forms because the phone's ringing like crazy!"

Nikki got up and walked to the door, but before she got out Cameron called her.

"Err… Nikki…"

"Yes?"

"Err…" Cameron twitched his nose. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, Mr. Mitchell, excuse me." She said smiling before leaving the room.

Cameron stared at the door for a while, lost in his thoughts, before finally turning his computer on, put some music to play and turn his attention to the considerable pile of reports.

Around five o'clock, Cameron had his vision blurred and was seeing tiny letters wherever he looked. His head hurt and he couldn't think straight. He rubbed his eyes and put the last report on the messy pile next to him. He stretched himself on the chair, almost sliding under the desk, yawned, got up stretching himself again and walked to the door.

"Is there any coffee left, Nikki?"

"Yes, I just made some."

Cameron walked to the coffeemaker and poured himself a small cup.

"Are you finished with the reports?" Nikki asked, even knowing he only left the office when he was finished, which usually happened around that time.

"Yes. If you want you can take them to my father's office now."

At that moment, the phone rang doubly, meaning it was an internal call from the company.

"Anders, how can I help you? Oh, alright Emily, I'll give him the message. You're welcome, goodbye." She put the phone down and looked at Cameron, who was drinking a second cup of coffee. "Mr. Mitchell's here, he asked me to call you."

Cameron said a curse word – which Nikki pretended not to hear – and tried to get his hair to cover his purple eye.

"Is it good like this, Nikki?"

"Do you really think he won't notice?"

"No, but it's worth the shot, right?" He got in his office hastily and grabbed the reports from the table, leaving right away. "I'm taking these, ok?"

"Alright. Good luck."

Cameron left from the anteroom to the corridor, heading to the next room, with an anteroom similar to the one he'd just left, with the exception of the latina girl with straight black hair, childish face, provocative cleavage and tight mini-skirt.

"Hello, Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell's waiting for you." Emily said with a squeaky, cloying voice.

"Thank you, Vasquez." Cameron knocked on the door quickly and opened it.

Adam Mitchell's office was different from his own: the desk was considerably bigger and the space seemed broader without the plants and couches. The window was covered by curtains, giving the room a dark ambient and making it necessary to turn on the lights. No plant could survive there. Adam' chair was enormous – which explained why armchairs were unnecessary – and the walls were covered by certificates and prizes, with a special shelf for trophies.

Sitting elegantly on his chair, turned to the computer's flat screen, was Adam Mitchell. His features were similar to Cameron's: pale skin, pointy face, thin nose and lips. However, his traits were made more marking by his long hair – contradicting the common image of a respectable businessman. Adam had tried to convince Cameron to let his hair grow too, but he'd refused. He already looked enough like his father; he didn't want to be a cheap knockoff. He admired Adam more than anyone, but he wanted to be acknowledged as Cameron Mitchell, not just Adam Mitchell's son.

"Hello, Cameron." The man greeted politely, turning to face him.

Cameron stopped himself from moving his bangs from his eyes. His head was pounding and he felt exposed to his father's gaze, but answered in the polite tone his father had used.

"Hello, Adam. I finished the reports you asked me to do. Was that why you called me?"

"Sit down, Cameron." The man said pointing the chair and analyzing him.

Cameron felt his hands starting to sweat from anxiousness. His father liked him to show interest in business, so…

"How was the trip?" he asked.

"Productive. Nothing I wasn't expecting. So, what do you say about those reports?"

"Could be better. Not all of them, obviously, but some teams really aren't producing. I think they're getting accommodated. Besides, we got complains from two clients about fails in the security of systems. But I already have some proposals for tomorrow's meeting. Would you prefer me to show you my ideas now, or…"

"That won't be necessary. I trust your capacities. It's better that you expose all of them at once tomorrow. But, changing the subject how was the game?"

"What game?" He played dumb, even knowing how much that irritated his father.

"What game, Cameron?" Adam asked with another icy look.

"Oh, yeah… The volleyball game…" Cameron lowered his eyes to a little white spot on his fingernail. "Well, we…we lost."

A heavy silence fell upon them.

"I see." Adam finally said, but Cameron still thought it was too risky to look up again. "Why, Cameron? No, wait, let me guess: McGinty?"

Cameron gritted his teeth in response. His nostrils dilated and his lips turned into thin lines.

"How can you handle it, Cameron? How can you let yourself be humiliated like that by that kid?"

"That's just the problem, dad." Cameron said, still not facing him. "I can't handle it anymore. If it was just up to me, I would have done anything to win, but I can't play for the whole team!"

"Cameron, look at me." Cameron raised his head to look into those ice pools. "Who do you think you're fooling with the hair in your eyes, hum?"

Cameron twitched his upper lip and put his hair behind his ear.

"What is that?"

"It's the proof that I didn't just accept defeat."

"Oh, so you weren't happy about losing and you still got beat up?" the man said in a dangerously low tone. "But tell me, did you at least leave him in a worst state than you?"

"I hit his nose" Cameron said indignant. Ok, McGinty seemed much better than him, but at least he didn't get out completely unharmed.

"Did it break?"

Cameron raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I know it was bleeding a lot and…"

"Did you break his nose?" Adam insisted with his teeth clenched.

"Fine, I don't think it broke, but just because I didn't have enough time, ok?"

Adam gave a long disappointed sigh, leaning to his chair. He looked at him with clear disapproval and deception.

"Go to your office." He ordered.

"Yes sir." Cameron answered as coldly as he could and left without looking back. He bumped into Emily Vasquez, knocking a few papers, but didn't stop to apologize or admire her cleavage while she bent to pick them up. Just by the look on his face, Nikki didn't dare to say anything.

He banged the door behind him and took a deep breath before sitting in front of the computer. He needed to distract himself for a while, there was still half an hour left before he could go home, and his head felt like it was exploding. While he got online and logged in the college's website, Cameron grabbed his phone and dialed Nikki's extension.

"Anders, how can I help you?"

"Do you have an aspirin, Nikki?"

"Yes, I do, I'll bring it to you right away, sir."

Cameron hung up the phone and went straight to the Technological Innovations page, where a new article awaited him. On another window he typed his username – The Hipster– and password to get in the chat page. He ran his eyes through the people who were online, but he didn't need to keep looking. As he accepted the aspirin and glass of water Nikki had brought him, blue letters popped on the screen.

.:Angel:. says: Hi!

The Hipster says: Hey. Looks like someone got sloppy yesterday, hum?

Cameron had gotten in the site on Sunday on the exact time he usually updated his page, but there was no new article. He had waited for at least two hours, but no update, or getting in the chat.

.:Angel:. says: Yeah, there's a first for everything…

The Hipster says: Something came up?

.:Angel:. says: Yes, actually, my godfather kind of grounded me yesterday. He forbade me to turn the computer on all day. Have you read the article yet?

Cameron's eyes tapped into the word "godfather", but he dismissed it. His brain didn't fully process the meaning of that word, as it was focusing on other things at that moment.

The Hipster says: No, not really. If you wait a few minutes I can tell you what I thought, ok?

.:Angel:. says: Bad day?

The Hipster says: Awful, actually.

.:Angel:. says: Ok, I'll wait for you to read it then.

Cameron went to the other window and read about ways to reinforce the safety of corporate systems.

The Hipster says: Wow! Very interesting. There are some tips I really had no idea of. Is it all proved, I mean, does it really work?

.:Angel:. says: Well I tested some of them myself with the help of one of the college's teachers this afternoon. I just published the article after testing and apparently it worked.

Cameron was getting more and more impressed with the guy. How could an aspiring journalist be so informed in technology that he tested his research himself? Alright he should have plenty of knowledge on the subject so he could write about it, but that was too much.

The Hipster says: Man, that's going to be very useful on tomorrow's meeting! I'll suggest some of the tests that are on final stage…

They kept talking until 6 a.m., when they said goodbye and combined to try to talk more the next day. Cameron said goodbye to Nikki and came back home felling a little lighter, with no headache and with the memory of a conversation he felt was worth having.

~ ~

Damian got home around 6.30 and found the door locked. He searched through his backpack for his keys and found a note in the fridge.

Dear Damian,

Snuffles was bored, so I decided to take him for a walk. You know, walking in the park, chasing pidgins, marking territory on trees…

I made chocolate cake, in case you're hungry.

I'm thinking we should have pizza tonight, what do you think?

We won't be gone for long, so don't try to throw a party while we're out, ok?

Later,

Chris.

P.S. Snuffles wanted to sign the note too.

There was an arrow indicating that he should look the back of the note. An animalistic print was stamped with what seemed to be chocolate.

Damian laughed and opened the refrigerator, finding a sloppy chocolate fudge cake, just the way he liked it. Next to it was slice of the cake with a plaque improvised with a piece of card and a toothpick with a colorful "Damian" written on it. The smiling boy grabbed his special slice, a little fork and went to his room eating cake.

After a comforting bath, Damian put on o pair of shorts and a baggy shirt and stared at the computer for some seconds, unconsciously running his hand through his hair while fighting an inner battle. Ultimately he decided to turn his back on the machine and walked – barefoot – to the studio. As soon as he sat in front of the piano he heard his phone ringing. He ran to the bathroom and took it out of the pocket of the pants he had put on to wash.

"Hey, Sam!"

"Damian! Were you with a tummy ache?" his best friend's voice asked.

Damian laughed out loud while he went back to the studio.

"No, it just took me a while to find my cell."

"Ah, of course. Don't be ashamed of tummy aches, man. It's perfectly normal. Everybody has…"

Damian heard a slapping noise – probably a slap from Marissa, as he heard her mumbling a disapproving "Sam!".

"Anyway, Marissa and I were thinking about renting a movie, you want to watch it with us?"

"Alright, but wouldn't you rather…"

"Nice, we'll be there in ten minutes, ok?"

"Ok!" said Damian laughing of another indignant "Sam!".

As he hanged up he heard the studio door opening and Snuffles' exited barking. Moments after the dog got in the studio followed by Chris, who had finally shaved, leaving only an elegant goatee. Both man and dog were panting, sweating, disheveled and had their tongues out.

"What's up, Damian? Did you read our note?"

"I did. The cake's delicious."

Chris made a point of hugging him, but Damian shrank back against the piano bench.

"What? I smell so good! Why are you avoiding me, Damian?"

Damian grimaced and covered his nose.

"Chris, Sam and 'Rissa are coming over to watch a movie, ok?"

"Which one?"

"I don't know, they're going to chose it."

Chris lowered himself hugging Snuffles and turned the dog's head so they both were facing him with lost puppy faces.

"Can we watch too?"

Damian pouted.

"If you behave…"

"Hear that, Snuffles? Be quiet, ok?"

Snuffles barked in response.

"Are they coming right now?" Chris asked.

"Well, if they already picked the movie, yes, but this being Sam and Marissa, they won't be here for at least half an hour."

"Uff! Then I'll invite Darren too. No, better yet! Will you lend me your car so I can pick him up?"

"And why not take your motorcycle?" Damian asked jealous.

"Because if I go there with my motorcycle he'll refuse to come with me with the lame excuse that I don't respect the speed limit. Can you imagine, Damian?" he said indignant. "Saying that I speed too much? What a slander!"

Damian thought it would be better to stay quiet. He could imagine his disheveled hair if he ever dared to go on a motorcycle ride with his godfather… not to mention the risky overtaking, total disregard for traffic signs, etc, etc."

"Ok, I'll lend it to you. But only if you take a shower first, you stink!"

"Did you hear that, Nuff? You stink!" Chris banged his foot and got out chasing the dog through the hall to his room.

"And he says he's old, humpft!" Damian thought shaking his head, turning his attention back to the piano. He studied until Sam and Marissa came – forty minutes later. The three went to the kitchen to make popcorn. Chris came right after that, with a pouty Darren, mumbling about being dragged from home at a Monday night! His bad mood didn't last long though, as minutes later they were all laughing at the movie "White Chicks", eating popcorn and drinking soda. Marissa and Darren blushed in some parts of the film, but the others pretended not to notice so they wouldn't make them even more embarrassed. After the movie Chris ordered pizza – ignoring Darren reprehensions about eating healthy – and they all had chocolate cake for desert.

Damian went to bed with a persistent smile on his face. It had been a while since he had had so much fun with his best friends! Chris was actually right, and that was scary: getting wise advice from Chris Colfer? Maybe Darren' efforts were finally starting to take effect. And speaking about those two duffos, Damian could imagine the size of Chris' smile in that moment, lying in his room, remembering all the laughs and jokes. He had practically forced Darren to spend the night with them, refusing to take him home and hiding the car keys so Damian couldn't drive him. Besides, he growled at Marissa when she opened her mouth, possibly to offer him a ride.

Damian tucked himself in a corner of the immense king bed and fell asleep smiling.