Date: Mon, 20 Dec 2010 06:30:05 -0800
From: Owen Wright <superwrighter13@gmail.com>
Subject: Redefining Normal Chapter 5

Redefining Normal
By Owen Wright

Hi guys, this is the fourth chapter in what I hope will be a very long
series following the journey of Kasey, the narrator, as he learns to
redefine the concepts that construct his world.

The disclaimer: There will be sex in this series, and although it will most
likely be sparse, those 18 and younger, as well as those who shouldn't be
reading this for whatever reason, please stay away for your own good. The
characters are purely fictional, any relation to actual people/stories is
absolute bull shit. I'm serious.

Author's note:

Please, enjoy the series, and if you want to contact me, please do so at
superwrighter13@gmail.com. I'd love to hear your comments, and although I'd
rather not hear any harsh criticisms, I'd be more than happy to accept
constructive ones. I apologize for the sporadic postings but I look forward
to your emails so even if you haven't read a chapter in a while I hope you
can get back into the flow of things and let me know what you think. Thanks
guys!


Chapter 5: James Pays His Dad a Visit

"So what's up with you and this Orion kid?" Keith asked casually as he
benched an easy set of 15 reps below me, trapping me with his green eyes so
I had no choice but to answer truthfully.

"I don't know," I tried to rack my brain for the answers as I spotted
him. We were lifting in Dad's home gym, something I started doing when
Keith moved in, and was still trying to get used to. He was much more
muscular than I was, having started lifting his freshman year for the
football team; rippling with great definition, his body was a thing of
tanned beauty, and a solid source of inspiration for myself.

"I think he's really cool. I like him just as much as my other friends."

Keith sat up and leaned on the bar with his large forearms, veins coursing
under taut skin. He straddled the bench in his loose blue basketball shorts
as a puzzled, yet playful expression tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Cool? That's it? You didn't seem to just think he was cool Friday night."

He knew about what happened?

"You waited almost a week to say something?" I asked, feigning anger, but
quickly switching to a more serious tone, "how much did you see?"

"A lot of shoulder rubbing, smiles, and pretty much flat-out flirting. Same
thing I've been seeing all week," he replied coolly.

"We were working on our project," I remarked offhandedly as I changed the
setting on the bowflex machine and started working my biceps, "it's due
tomorrow so it's kind of important."

I watched as they contracted and released, my thin figure allowing them to
stand out, despite their rather tiny size.

"So I'm guessing I'll be seeing lover boy tonight, too?" he chuckled as he
leaned coolly on the machine, short brown hair gleaming with sweat.

"Well we do have to practice our presentation. Make sure we have all the
kinks worked out, that kind of important, business-like stuff," he arched
his eyebrow, so I added quickly, "which has nothing to do with flirting,"
trying to convince myself as well.

"Okay, but honestly. Do you think you might have feelings for this guy?" He
asked seriously.

"I don't know. I don't want to, that's for sure."

"What do you mean, you don't want to? It isn't a matter of what you want,
it's what you feel, right here," he poked me in the chest pointedly, "I
hate to break it to you, little bro, but you don't get to choose who you
fall for. That's why they call it falling. It's kind of unexpected."

"Look, Keith. Just because you're gay doesn't mean I am, too. Maybe it's
genetic or whatever but have you ever thought that maybe we're just good
friends? I don't want to be gay, okay? So can we just drop it?"

I didn't mean to have an outburst like that but the words just came pouring
out, like all of it was just waiting to come out and what with the anxiety
of Orion coming over, our presentation tomorrow, and Keith's questioning,
it pushed me over the edge. I felt terrible right after I said it, but I
knew it was too late to take it back. Keith just stood there a little
shocked, his green eyes wide with astonishment, and then dropping,
hurt. His arms fell to his sides in silence. The sparkle faded a bit from
his downcast eyes.

"I'm sorry, Keith. I didn't mean that."

"No, I think you did Kasey. And it's okay. You needed to say all those
things and maybe you're right, I was pushing you pretty hard," he sighed
and wiped his face with his shirt, I could see the hurt reading clearly on
his face, "let's just change the subject. If you want to talk about it
later when you've had time to think and you're ready, I'll be willing to
listen."

He managed a weak smile.

"Thanks, Keith," I replied, a bit ashamed of myself, my voice betraying a
sense of guilt.

"So what are you doing this weekend?"

"I don't know, probably going to hang out with Z like usual and maybe Orion
and Mikey, too."

He shot me a funny look but dropped it quickly.

"What about those other two friends of yours? The quiet one with the
lighter and the funny one that always wears that backwards cap?"

"Ross has some kind of volleyball camp this weekend so he's going to be
busy, and James hasn't said anything about his plans but I'm pretty sure
he's coming over Friday night as usual."

Keith turned out to be very good at keeping the conversation topics away
from Orion, and I was terrible at it. Every time he asked me about
something, even if it was totally unrelated, I found some way to bring
Orion into it. It wasn't surprising that there were a lot of awkward
pauses, but we made it through the workout without any more arguments,
which I viewed as a success, considering the emotional load I was currently
dealing with. I just couldn't keep my mind off of him, and although I hated
to admit it, Keith's jokes were a little too close to the truth.



"In closing, the Cnidarians are an interesting phylum, who might lack a
real digestive system, but are more than adept at catching themselves
dinner. So the next time you see a jellyfish or an anemone, remember that
they are from the phylum of the "stinging cells," Cnidaria."

"9 minutes and 34 seconds," Orion said as he stopped the timer on my
iPhone, "seems about perfect to me."

"Yeah maybe now, but I just know when I get up there tomorrow I'm going to
speak way faster. I have the worst stage fright."

"Dude, don't worry," he put his arm on my shoulder reassuringly, "Okay,
here I'll help you out. Just picture everyone out there in the
audience. Even Medina Arculio with her wacky hair."

"You noticed too?"

"Focus."

"Right, sorry."

He gestured to my bed, since we were practicing our presentation in my
room.

"Picture all of them, and they're all watching you give this amazing
presentation-with me of course-and they all love it. They're paying really
close attention, and they're so interested in all of those retarded things
we looked up, even the reproductive cycle."

"Okay, I'm picturing it. But you know they're not going to care at all when
we actually present, right?"

"Hmm, that's true. Then why should you?" he grinned mischievously as he
made his point clear. I hated it when he was right; he was tricking me like
that all week, but it always made me take a different view of things. Kind
of the way Keith does it with his metaphors, but Orion always lured me into
some trick that made me realize my thinking was paradoxical. The nerve of
that kid, I swear.

"You know that's not fair right, asshole?" I said playfully, catching his
contagious smile.

"What's not fair?" he asked innocently as he reset the power point and shut
down his computer.

"How you trick me like that! You make me think you're agreeing with me,
then BAM you're all like, 'see, you don't make sense.'"

"I'm pretty sure I've never actually said that," he said, raising his
eyebrow beneath his blonde bangs.

"Okay maybe not but it's still not fair," I responded, determined to get
back at him somehow. A pillow was handy so I figured it would do.

I nailed him in the head but he rolled gracefully back onto my bed, and sat
there smiling so prettily it was damn near annoying.

"Close, but no cigar, my friend," he laughed, his warm tenor voice echoing
through my room, titillating my insides.

I grinned widely as I pounced onto my bed trying to put him in a
headlock. We were squeals of laughter and a mess of arms and legs, as we
slipped out of each other's arms rapidly, bouncing up and down on the
bed. I would wrap my arms around his taut stomach, but he would slip away
while grabbing me around the knee, prompting a tickling of my foot in his
face before he finally managed to outmaneuver me and pin me to the bed,
settling himself down on my chest, hands holding my own down.

There was a current connecting us, and it flowed like adrenaline, coursing
through my body and his, a warm radiance that resembled the feeling of
tasting sweet honey.

Yeah, it was that good.

"Get off me!" I managed, between peals of laughter, which caused him to
bounce up and down on my slightly muscled chest.

"Only if you say 'thank you Orion for teaching me these great lessons that
I would have never realized without your help and I will never, ever, ever
complain about them again."

"I can't remember all of that, it's too long," I told him pleadingly,
hoping to win him over with my pouting emerald eyes.

"Fine, just say 'Orion is the best,'" he replied, flashing his sparkling
pearly smile, proud of his control over me.

"Orion is the best. Now get off," I said, and quickly had to sit at the
edge of my bed not only because I was out of breath, but because, I had,
much to my dismay, started to feel something 'down there,' and I was afraid
I knew why.



"So how did the presentation go?" Mikey asked Orion and I as we sauntered
over to the pool deck, tired and sweaty from soccer practice.

"Pretty good, I think we'll get a decent grade on it at least," Orion said
with a grin before cannonballing after James and Zeo into the water.

"Ms. Martin's tough, huh?" Mikey asked knowingly; he was in her third
period class.

"A bit, but it was fine. Orion did most of the speaking anyway. I just
stood there and tried to act like I knew what I was talking about," I said
with a laugh.

"As long as it gets you a good grade," Mikey posited, approvingly as he
stripped off his shirt and rectangular glasses, revealing his small,
undeveloped body, complete with an outie bellybutton.

We both dove into the water, and arose to a whole lot of splashing provided
by the ever-mischievous Zeo. I dove under the water and managed to sprint
quickly away from him, my sinewy arms gliding through the cold water. It
felt great; the perfect after-practice refresher. The splashing died down
soon after, and we were able to just float around for a bit. I loved
pushing off against the walls, feeling the rush of water as I cut through
it, then resurfacing somewhere completely different, running my hands
through my messy brown hair and spraying the nearest victim with the
runoff.

Orion seemed to be enjoying himself; his thin body was lithe and balanced
even underwater. His muscles were visible through his non-existent layer of
fat, and I found myself using every excuse I could to make sure that it was
real. His head would pop out the water in slow motion (in my eyes, at
least), wet hair flying back as he raised his soft face out of the water,
blinking the water out of his incredible blue eyes.

I decided it was time for some action so I dove fluidly into the water,
resurfacing near him in the shallows while James, Ross, and Mikey took
turns jumping off the diving board. I shot Orion an impish smirk as I
hooked my foot around the back of his knee, sending him into a backwards
somersault, flailing under the water.

He rose and flashed me an evil grin, narrowing his eyes as they reflected
the surface of the pool.

"Jerk."

"I'm sorry, you just looked so peaceful...floating there and stuff. I
couldn't resist," I splashed him with a small bit of water, feeling the
surge in my sweeping hand.

"Oh is that so?" he remarked before jumping me, managing to slip behind
me. Before I could turn to face him, I felt his taught arms sweep past my
sides, his thin but strong legs wrap around mine, and by the time we
stopped, he had me in a full nelson.

"Sorry," he spoke directly into my ear, our breathing labored from the
struggle, "I couldn't resist."

"Real funny."

He laughed, the warm tenor of his voice reverberating through his chest as
it pressed into my back. I could feel the ridges of his abdominals as he
inhaled and exhaled, the strength of his arms as they clinched mine. His
wet hair was dripping onto my shoulders, warm droplets of Orion. My nose
was overpowered by the sudden, new scent, more noticeable than the chlorine
in the water: his smell. He was like warm cinnamon today, a spicy sort of
sweet and it made my head swim so much I could barely focus, my breathing
falling into rhythm with his defined chest.

It was an incredible rush. I think they call it endorphins. Whatever. It
felt good and I couldn't deny it.

Suddenly the waves rocked around us as we were bombarded by three
consecutive cannonballs.

Zeo's head popped up like a cork, his long blonde hair flipping back, "hey
bud, sorry to spoil your little moment over here but James and I are up for
some chicken-fighting. And Mikey can't exactly hold himself up so...we're
challenging you two."

He jumped on James's sturdy shoulders before he even got a chance to wipe
his face as he resurfaced. James gained his balance back quickly, though,
and the pair stood ready.

I shrugged my shoulders and turned to Orion, who was already grinning and
lowering himself under the water; I climbed aboard the U.S.S. Jensen and we
prepared for war.

Zeo and I stared each other down as James and Orion slowly moved into
position and waited for Mikey's "go." As soon as his voice echoed around
the walls, we rushed at each other.

I tried to grab Zeo's shoulders, but soon realized his height was a
definite advantage. There was a lot of slapping as we both tried to exert a
firm hold on the other, hands slipping off tanned, developing muscles, our
bodies tight from the strain of exertion. Zeo was lean and toned, a
stretched out version of myself; I had denser muscle, but he had a longer
arm's reach.

Orion was light on his feet under me as we danced around James, trying to
find a good spot to strike. James's stock solid build, complemented by
muscular arms gripping tight around Zeo's lanky thighs, however, allowed
him to remain unmoved and he endured a multitude of shoves while we were
constantly knocked back.

The five of us laughed the entire time, and Zeo was finally able to get a
hold of my left arm, which he used to bring both Orion and I crashing back
into the water. James ran a few victory circles and Zeo thanked his 'fans'
while Orion and I bowed to him in defeat before James jumped backward into
the water, taking Zeo down off of his high horse.

By the time we were ready to get out the pool, we were all exhausted from
the combination of horseplay and practice, and more than ready for a
steaming hot shower. Mikey toweled off first, rushing to the upstairs
bathroom past Mom, who was busy doing her thing in the kitchen. She smiled,
but then looked a little puzzled as Orion and Zeo both flew by, racing for
the downstairs shower.

"Don't feel like running today?" I ventured as I toweled off beside James,
rubbing the wetness out of my tousled auburn hair as he simply wiped the
water off his short, jet black hair, "you're usually the first one there."

"Nah, well I kind of wanted to talk to you about something," he said, his
voice almost low enough to match Keith's deep bass.

James and Ross had entered puberty first; their voices changed before the
rest of us, and while Ross's was a clear baritone, James's had settled a
bit lower, and added some rasp to it as well. I didn't think it matched his
Asian genetics much, the voice departed from his almond-shaped eyes and
nearly hairless body, but it did match his persona, that dark and troubled
soul that hid in the quiet of conversation, only known to a select few.

"Sure, what's up?" I tried to sound upbeat, but inside I was
worried. Mikey's issues were tame in comparison to the tribulations James
experienced in his life, and if something was troubling him, it was
definitely not a simple matter.

"It's my Dad. He wants me to visit him," his eyes gazed over the surface of
the pool, focusing on the dark grey clouds that were moving in steadily
from the west, visible through the large glass wall of the complex.

"In jail?"

"Yeah. And I want to go. He has a lot of the answers I need and I don't
think I can move on with my life, or settle all of this shit that's just
been stuck inside me until I get them. I have to go, Kasey."

He looked me dead square, locking me with brown eyes that had seen more
than their share of evil. I couldn't help but recall when those very same
eyes were showed nothing more than pure fear.

James's dad was sent to prison three years ago for illegal drug trafficking
and domestic violence, but as it wasn't the first time he was sentenced or
convicted, he was going to be in there for the next four years as well. He
had taken to selling marijuana and cocaine as an easy way to bring money in
for the family, which is why James ended up living near the rest of us in
the richer side of town. However, the drugs had adverse side effects and he
ended up using more than he dealt, often coming home on a high, unaware of
his actions and unreasonably violent and abusive at times as well.

It was around that time that James started staying the night at Ross's
place, to avoid his father's rampage. He tried to talk his mother into
leaving him for the longest time, but her Japanese mindset found the idea
too shameful, and she refused to part with him, even though he was causing
her so much pain.

After an extremely terrible month, in which several drug lords came
knocking at the door, she realized that James was in more danger than just
the abuse from his father, and fled, renting a small apartment 15 minutes
or so from the old house, and finally reported her husband to the police.

And now James wanted to visit the man who darkened the memories of his
childhood and forced him out of his own home, the man who was supposed to
be his protector, that turned into his nightmare come alive. The idea made
me shudder, when I recalled his bruises and tears, the nights I biked over
to Ross's to help him nurse James's injuries. He had to grow up so fast; we
were only 12 and he was 11, all dealing with a problem way too big for any
of us to tackle head on.

So when he sounded so decisive, I had to take faith in the knowledge that
he was much more mature than his age, that all of us were forced to develop
our perspectives well enough that we could make the right choices. If this
was something he thought he had to do, then I wasn't going to argue.

"Okay, so talking you out of going seems to be out of the question," I
reasoned as I sat beside him at the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in
the water.

"Yeah. But I do need something else from you."

"Sure, man. You know I'm here for you," I said as sincerely as I could
whilst wondering what I was getting myself into.

"Could you come with me tomorrow? I would ask Ross, but he's at his
volleyball camp and you know as much as he does. I know it's a lot to ask
but I need you there, man. Please."

James usually didn't ask anyone for favors, so I knew that he needed me
there more than he ever did before. I wasn't about to say no.

"Of course," I paused, "but I'm not going to lie. I'm kind of scared. Is
your mom taking us?"

"No chance in hell, dude. If she found out I was going to visit him she
wouldn't let me. So I'm not giving her the chance."

"What if I asked my parents? They'd do anything for you and I know they'd
be willing."

"Yeah that's a good idea, at least we'll have adults with us. Do you think
they'll be worried though?"

"For sure. They're as concerned for you as they are for me. Wait, I just
thought of a better idea," I added as I saw our answer pull up in a black
Toyota Tacoma.





"Hi, I'm here for a scheduled visit with Harold Yamamoto."

"And you are?" the jail receptionist asked rudely as she smacked a tiny
piece of red gum.

"James Yamamoto. His son."

"Okay well I'll call a security guard to bring him out. You head over there
to the visiting area and wait for him," she spoke to him as if speaking to
a five-year-old, pointing to a dingy looking holding area enclosed in
bars. A few bench-tables were set up in the room, which was painted a dull
green what I'm guessing was a century ago. The room reeked with the smell
of filth; I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Wait!" she called out as the three of us turned to the ominous looking
area, "who are you people?" she motioned towards Keith and I with her
painted claws.

"Uh, these are my friends. They're coming with me."

"No they're not. They're staying right here. One visitor per inmate. It
says right here in my handbook," she pointed a cheaply manicured nail at a
heavy book laying on her desk.

"It's okay, I can handle it from here," James assured us.

"Alright, but if you need anything we'll be 'right here,'" I replied,
mimicking the receptionist in hopes of lightening the dark mood.

It didn't work.

We watched helplessly as the guard keyed open the heavy lock of the
visiting area, allowing James to slip inside, leaving us powerless to help
him in any way. In the time it took Keith to rest a reassuring arm on my
shoulder, James's father was at the other end of the cell, let in through a
thick steel door bolted with a large padlock. The air smelled like a
strange mixture of metal and mold, a sharp unfamiliarity for my nose that
had grown accustomed to the welcome scents of my home and friends.

Jail hadn't done much for Harold Yamamoto. His thick build, which once
resembled an older, more mature version of James, had wasted away, his
bones jutting out sharply at the joints. His facial hair grew scruffily,
graying as well. The tattoos on his arms, which once made a bold,
intimidating statement for his foes now looked like aged pieces of artwork,
the canvas wrinkled and worn, the colors fading fast.

When he finally spoke, his voice was husky and stressed, much unlike the
commanding tone I remembered a few years back. He tried to look James in
the eye, but his gaze faltered, shifting down in discomfort.

"Thanks for coming to see me, son."

I could see that threw James back a little. His father never referred to
him as a son, and certainly never thanked him for anything. I could tell
that James was as determined as ever to get the answers he sought, but I
could tell he was expecting the visit to be more confrontational. He
steadied himself before replying.

"I didn't come here to forgive you. And I definitely didn't come for a
'visit.' I'm here for answers."

Harold paused for a moment. Then sighed.

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Why did you start selling drugs?"

Another pause. Some reflection. A heavy, raspy breath.

"My friends were doing it. Your mom...your mom and I never planned to have
you. It just happened. And I needed a way to make money. So I started
selling. Small stuff at first, but I guess it caught up to me. Didn't your
mom tell you all of this?"

"No, she won't tell me anything about you that I can't remember myself. I
think she wants to forget, too."

"Do you remember anything?" he asked, a small glint of hope crossing his
face.

James extinguished that spark immediately with one of the darkest
expressions of emotion I ever remembered coming across his face. His eyes
narrowed and lost their light, his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth simply
formed the words:

"You hurt me."

"James, I-"

"You hurt me. You hurt mom. And you didn't even care. You just ran right
out, trying to hide. But they found you. And now you're here, where you
can't hurt either of us. Mom still freaks out; some nights she cries. I can
only hang out with my friends one night a week because she's scared to be
home alone. You did this to her...you did this to us. And I know they're
going to let you out eventually. So I just want you to know exactly what
you did to us before you try anything else."

Harold could only stare, dumbfounded, at his son who once cowered at his
feet. What I knew and he didn't was that James wasn't that scared little
boy any more. In the last few years I watched him grow into a man more
mature than any of us, with a heavy burden of responsibility on his
shoulders.

James was finally able to find the courage to stand confidently against his
father, something he had been waiting three years to do. I figured that's
why he really wanted to come. He wanted answers, yes, but he really wanted
to be able to get the truth his mother always withheld from him: that
turning to the wrong side of the law was a choice his father made for
himself, for selfish reasons.

He sat there with resolute determination, a steely glare in his eye, his
knuckles balled into powerful fists, keeping at bay the rage that vengeance
stirred within.

"I just want to know one more thing. Are you sorry?"

"For what?"

"For what you did. To me, to mom, to yourself. Are you sorry?"

"Well yeah, I guess. I just wanted to- "

"Look, that's all I really wanted to know. But if you're not, then I'm
out. Let me know when you actually feel guilty about what you did," he
stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the wooden chair that scooted
loudly against the grimy tile. A guard moved forward to lead a silent
Harold back to his cell, while the other opened the gate, releasing James
back into freedom.

He strode right out of the building, pausing only to mutter a soft "let's
go," before swinging open the front door of the building. Keith and I
followed quickly after sharing an equally confused glance.

"James what happened in there? I thought you wanted answers?"

"Yeah. And I didn't get the ones I was looking for."

"What were you looking for?"

He spun on the spot to face me head on, scaring me a bit with that same
steely determination he channeled in the jail.

"An apology. Maybe. I don't know. Can we get in the car and talk about this
later? Just being here creeps me out."

He shot a pointed stare at one of the guard towers, upon which a man in
uniform was equally outfitted with a large machine gun.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's go."

I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, trying to channel comfort through
that gesture the way Keith and Z often did.

We drove back to my house I silence, something I was used to from James,
but not from Keith. I was only able to guess at what was possibly going
through my brother's mind, and although we did get almost unbelievably
close over the past few weeks, I still had no idea what thought might be
swimming through his head. James typically kept his thoughts to himself,
but we usually knew what he was thinking; his eyes gave away what he really
felt about any subject matter we happened to be throwing around.

Thus, when I asked him if he wanted to talk and he said no, I knew he
really meant yes, he just didn't really know what to say. Ross was usually
the only one able to get James to talk about what he was feeling, and he
wasn't exactly at our disposal so I had to at least try.

I asked again when we finally made it back to my house and sat on the stone
table normally soaked with rain in the yard. The day was sparsely cloudy
though, a rarity, so we took advantage of the occasional bursts of sunlight
outside after hopping out of Keith's truck.

"Look, Kasey. I really want to tell you what's going on in my head right
now. I want to figure it out as much as you do. I just can't explain it. It
feels like all of this shit is just crashing around in there and it's not
making any sense."

That was more than he ever said at once so I knew that he really meant
it. I wanted to help him but I felt just as confused as he did. I didn't
know what he was going through, what he needed to hear. I felt as powerless
to help him as I did in that visiting room trying to make sense of his
father and his past.

"James," Keith started gently as he leaned into the conversation, trying to
tread lightly, "I think I know how you feel right now."

He raised an eyebrow in response, but didn't object so Keith continued.

"See, ever since I was born, I thought my father had left me and my mom
alone. That he didn't want me, so he walked out and left. As I started
getting older, I saw all of my friends, and how happy they were with their
fathers, and how much they cared for each other. I was jealous.

"I mean, I was like, what, Elementary school? And here these kids are, with
dads who coach their little league teams, help them with their homework,
cook them dinner. I was confused. I wondered why I of all people had to
deal with the pain of living without a father. I didn't do anything wrong,
and I definitely didn't ask for it.

"I was pissed. At a man I didn't even know because he took away the normal
childhood I was supposed to have. You have a right to be mad, James. I was
mad. It's understandable, and it's okay. But you have to admit what you're
feeling; you can't just keep it in. I tried for a really long time, but
eventually it has to come out, you have to face that hatred inside of you
and only then can you let it go. So is that how you feel? Angry? At your
dad?"

"Yeah, man. I don't know why I'm just so pissed!" The words were just
flowing out now, "how could he to that to us? Didn't he care? I guess not
but, why me? Why my dad? All I want is to have a normal life, but he fucked
that up for me and it sucks. It sucks, alright? That's how I feel. Shitty."

The tears were pouring out almost as fast as his words were; he clenched
his fists in rage and gritted his teeth as he finally came to terms with
his deep-set anger. I never knew that he harbored so much pain in that
stronghold of his. I wasn't used to seeing James like this.

"I know what you mean, man. That's exactly how I felt for so long. But
eventually you have to realize you can't do anything about it, and the best
way to deal with it is to let it go and move on."

Keith put a reassuring hand on James's shoulder and radiated support
through his deep green eyes.

"Maybe." He lifted his arm to wipe the tears that settled on his cheeks,
"I'm a mess, man."

"It'll take some time, but once you let go, it'll feel really good," Keith
smiled warmly, accentuating his pronounced jawline.

 "Yeahh, thanks Keith."

"No problem, James. Don't worry. It'll get better. I know it for a fact."

He winked at me across the table as James dried off the last of his tears.





"So how did things go with James on Saturday?" Orion asked casually as he
replaced some books in his locker.

We were in-between periods, right after our Biology class that we had
together before he had to go to the theater for acting. The halls were
filled with the usual racket of high school chatter so our conversation was
as private as any we could have had elsewhere. Teenagers don't care about
anyone but themselves; I'm sure no one was listening.

"How did you know about that?"

"Ross told me in first period," he replied like it was the most obvious
thing in the world, "he thought I was went with you guys since I slept over
Friday so I told him about the show I went to with Mikey."

"Right. How was that by the way?" I spun the lock to click in the
combination for my locker, a bit down the hall from his.

"Amazing. But you're changing the subject," he pointed out with a grin as
he leaned the back of his blonde head against the locker next to mine.

I sighed

"It's a long story. Even longer if I have to recount James's history."

I tried to ignore his pleading sapphire eyes as I shut my locker door. I
couldn't.

"Fine. I'll tell you."

"Awesome," he nudged me with his shoulder, "when?"

"Dude, you know you can come over to my house whenever you want right?
We're friends, remember?"

He smiled happily, the corners of his mouth tugging up with his cheeks.

"Cool. Tonight, then?"

"Now you get it," I laughed as we bumped fists and he turned down the hall
to the theatre.




"So James's dad is in jail because he abused him and his mom, and you guys
helped him through all of that."

"Sure did," Zeo grinned proudly in the darkness. I could barely make out
the glint of his teeth from the soft glow of my nightlight.

"That explains why he's always so quiet," Orion continued on his train of
thought as we lay together on my bed. It was kind of a close fit but since
it was so big, it wasn't all that much of a problem.

"Yeah, anyway, good night guys. Big day tomorrow, you know, school and
all," Zeo called out from over Orion to my left. I'd never known my best
friend to end a conversation early, I mean the boy loves to talk, but I
just guessed he was tired. I still thought it was a little strange, though.

"Night," we both responded as I turned over and pulled the blanket up to my
chin. Orion giggled a bit as it hit his face and Zeo shot us a weird look.

It was the end to a fun but slightly awkward night. Orion was gradually
taking up more and more of the time I spent with my friends, which meant
that I was spending less time with Zeo. I was excited when they both came
over, but I quickly figured out that something wasn't quite right. I
couldn't put my finger on it exactly, I mean, they laughed and joked
together, but there was just something missing. Maybe what I was noticing
was normal, though, Orion couldn't be as close with Zeo as he was with
Mikey. Still, there was something strange about having the two of them
together, I was going to have to watch out for that in the future.

I was brought back from my thoughts by Zeo's heavy snoring and Orion's
light fluttering. They were both sound asleep as far as I could tell, but
my heart was beating at a million miles a minute; Orion's body heat was
warming me to an unbearable point, and it wasn't so much the temperature as
much as it was the fact that he was lying next to me, in my bed. Maybe
there was more going on than I was willing to admit.

I slowly pulled back the covers and lightly stepped onto the carpet of my
room. Pausing outside Keith's room, I knocked softly.

He pulled off his headphones when he saw me standing outside, his gaze said
it all: somehow he knew everything without actually knowing anything. It
was time.

"We need to talk."


That's all for chapter 5. I'm sorry it's been such a long time, guys. I've
actually had this on my computer for about five months, I just didn't like
it so I rewrote a bunch of parts before sending it in. Please email me at
superwrighter13@gmail.com with your comments. The more emails, the more
inspiration to write more and write faster so I'd love to hear from you.
Happy holidays!