Summer Days

After a devastating loss, Eric Stayne takes his son Kyle to the beach for the summer to try to come to terms with the death of his wife and maybe assuage his son's grief a little. To his surprise, he meets a man from his past there. A man he once had a crush on in high school, and a man who is stirring up emotions within him once again...  
                                                                                                 

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                    The New Kid in Town





“Oh, my God. Would you LOOK at that fag?!” an angry voice hissed in a half-whisper to the small group of young men gathered in the hallway near a set of lockers. 

All of them were staring at a new arrival at the school, a boy so flamboyantly gay that he might as well have been wearing a neon sign that read: ‘I AM QUEER’ in six foot letters over his head. For one thing, he was wearing jeans so tight that you could tell what religion he was. For another, said jeans were covered in glitter pictures of flowers, kittens, and butterflies done in very gaudy fabric paints. The t-shirt technically covering his chest (it was also skin tight) was pink, and had a picture of a big-eyed kitten on the front looking adorable. In bold letters under it, the t-shirt stated that: ‘I’M CUTE. WANT TO PET ME?’ His hair was a striking electric blue, and cut in an Adam Lambert style to highlight his (admittedly very cute) face. He was wearing tons of bracelets on his wrists, and make-up on his face! A glossy pink lip liner, blue eye shadow to match his hair, and pale foundation not quite heavy enough to mark his as a Goth. 

“I can’t believe he actually came to school dressed like that,” one of the teenage boys said incredulously to his friends. “Is he looking to get killed?”

“If he is, we can help him with that,” another remarked menacingly, cracking his knuckles. “Right, Chet?”

He said this to the biggest of the group, a large young man whose own shirt stretched over an impressive set of muscles. He had sandy-brown hair cut in a severe buzz, and a face that was handsome in an Aryan sort of way. This magnificent specimen was a member of the popular football team, and could honestly boast that he didn’t take steroids to achieve his muscular form. He didn’t have to; somewhere in his ancestry a German woman had been raped by a Viking and had passed on the genes for ‘huge’ to many of the children in later generations to come. “Yeah,” was all he said, his voice menacing. Chet was a man of few words; many of the more unkind students (many of whom had been victims of Chet in the past) liked to say that that was because he was too stupid to speak properly. They were wrong, actually, but it was doubtful that any of them would care to find out the truth. That would have meant getting closer to Chet, not something that any of the unpopular or weird (or both) kids wanted to do.

One of his friends clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll get him after school,” he said, and Chet nodded silently. He cast one last look at the blue-haired freak that had invaded their school, before he turned away so that he wouldn’t be late for Chemistry class. There was always later on, when they were away from under the eyes of nosy teachers and other school employees. Then that little fag would be given a WARM welcome to their school – and one he’d never forget.




The student in question was laughing as a girl asked him: “Were there any cute guys at your old school?”

“Some,” he replied merrily with a twinkle in his cornflower blue eyes. “But there were a lot of dogs, too. This school looks like it might have a higher proportion of studs to dogs, actually.”

“Yes, but you have to look out for some of those studs,” another girl warned him. “Chet and his group, for example. Those Neanderthals hate gay guys - and nerds, Goths, geeks, you name it – and they’ll be after your ass if you’re not careful.”

The new student laughed. “Will they? I’m looking forward to that,” he purred.

“Hey, you should listen to Lisa. She knows what she’s talking about,” the first girl warned him. 

A sniff. “Don’t worry about me, ladies. I can handle myself,” he said with a toss of his electric-blue head. The girls looked unconvinced, but he only grinned and set a hand on his hip. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about,” he insisted. They finally gave up, although they both shot him worried glances. They knew what Chet and his group of thuggish friends were like. They’d watched them destroy plenty of kids over the years, and this new guy seemed like perfect fodder for the fag bashers.





Over near another set of lockers, Gary Finch said to his friend Corey: “Who is that?” his eyes were fastened on the new student, who was colorful enough that you just couldn’t look away. 

Corey threw the new student a look as well. “According to my mom (his mother worked in the office, much to his chagrin) his name is Quentin Yardsley, and he’s a transfer student from New York. His father got a good job down here, so they all moved here. Pretty crazy looking, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Gary agreed, hugging his stack of books to his chest thoughtfully. 

Corey snorted. “I give him half a day before Chet and company stomp him into mush.”

Gary nodded soberly, knowing that was true. He, like many of the other students, was terrified of the enormous football player. While Chet had never harmed him physically, he’d stolen Gary’s lunch money more than once and had dumped his books plenty of times when they’d been in junior high school. And if Chet ever discovered his deep, dark secret – he’d be cruisin’ for the mother of all bruisin’s. Because poor nerdy Gary had begun to suspect that he had yet another cross to bear…i.e., that he was one-hundred-per-cent gay. A fag, that is. And Chet and friends hated fags. So if they ever found out…he was doomed. 

But it looked like there was someone else destined to be in their sights for now. He felt great pity for the flamboyant new student. He just hoped that Chet didn’t actually seriously hurt the new kid, although considering the way he looked there probably wasn’t much hope of that…






Gary was sitting in English, his last class of the day, and staring at the student sitting next to him. He was doing it surreptitiously, of course, because said student happened to be Quentin Yardsley. The new kid was leaning his chin on his elbow and looking rather bored, but suddenly his blue eyes slid Gary’s way. He tried to turn his head quickly so that Quentin wouldn’t realize that he’d been staring at him, but no dice. He heard a soft voice say: “Hello. See something you like?” 

He felt his face flame, and tried to stare down at his text book like he was fascinated by it. But the voice continued relentlessly: “I saw you looking at me. What’s your name?”

He was afraid that the teacher would see them talking if he didn’t do something, so he whispered: “Gary. Gary Finch,” half under his breath. 

“Hi, Gary. I’m Quentin. Nice to meet you,” the new student whispered. “Wanna hang out together after school?”

No, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to even be seen with the new kid, not when said new kid was the next target of Chet and his gang. But he couldn’t seem to refuse outright, out of good manners or shyness or whatever. And Quentin said: “I’ll wait for you when class gets out. Okay?”

It wasn’t okay. At all. But he couldn’t disrupt the class and get in trouble, because his parents would flip if he got detention. So he slumped miserably in his chair, wondering if he was going to be labeled as one of the new kid’s friends and thus the target of Chet’s wrath. He was doomed. 







“You’re pretty quiet,” Quentin noted as they walked together out of the school a bit later. “Are you always that way?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I guess,” he said softly, looking at the ground. 

“Hmm. It’s cute. I bet the boys just love you,” Quentin noted, patting him on the arm. He jumped, staring in horror into the cornflower-blue eyes. 

“W-What?” he squeaked in panic. 

Quentin tilted his electric-blue head to the side. “Honey, you don’t need to pretend,” he drawled. “You are as ‘gay as a lark’. Aren’t you?” he said shrewdly.

Oh…dear…God. He’d been found out! He was a dead man! “Don’t tell anybody!” he begged, not trying to deny it. Who else would be better at telling his sexuality than another gay boy? He was so screwed. 

Quentin gave him a thoughtful, compassionate look. “Of course I won’t, if you don’t want me to,” he replied. “I don’t ‘out’ people who don’t want to be outed, especially not in high school. Life’s too hard as it is for gay guys in high school. Your secret is safe with me.”

Gary blew out a relieved breath, sagging. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome. But do you think we could at least be friends? Talk about things in secret? I could use a gay friend around here,” Quentin said softly, putting a finger to his lips. His nails were painted chartreuse and lilac, Gary noted distantly. 

“I...guess. But I don’t want Chet to see me with you…” Gary said miserably.

Quentin set his hands on his hips. “This Chet guy is starting to annoy me,” he remarked to the air, pursing his glossy pink lips in disapproval. “Who does he think he is? The school police, saving everybody from the horrible gays?”

“No, he’s a football player who’s built like a tank, and who just happens to hate all gays,” Gary told him.

“Sounds like he needs to be put in his place,” Quentin sniffed. 

Gary gave him an incredulous glance, but Quentin changed the subject. “So is there anybody that you like around this dump?” he asked, looking around at the front courtyard in faint disgust.

Gary felt his cheeks heat again at this question. Seeing the color rising in there, Quentin pointed a dramatic finger at him. “Ah hah! I hit the nail right on the head! Who is he?”

Never in a million years would he have admitted his crush to anybody else, but there was just something about Quentin… "His name is David Naylor. He’s the captain of the school’s baseball team,” he blurted out, then just stood there feeling appalled.

“Mmm, sounds yummy. Why don’t you tell him that you like him?” Quentin asked. 

Gary looked horrified. “Are you kidding! I don’t even know if he’s gay! I’d be beaten to a pulp if I told him that and he turned out to be straight!”

“Good point,” Quentin conceded. “I’ll have to think of something,” he added thoughtfully. 



Before Gary could ask him what he meant, a chill ran down his spine. They were suddenly surrounded by large bodies, and at their forefront was the dreaded Chet. The football player’s caramel-colored eyes were narrowed and menacing as he looked at Quentin. Gary felt like they were also marking his presence with the new kid for future reference. “Well, well, well…what do we have here?” one of the boys sneered. “A fag and his hag? You sure are pretty. Way too pretty to be a guy. I think that we’re going to have to make you look more like a guy and less like a girl – starting with that pretty face. What do you think of that, queer?”

Quentin shocked Gary by yawning elaborately, even putting up a hand to cover his mouth. “I’d say that you’re all really boring, but that’s pretty obvious,” he drawled. His eyes roved over the gang, and he shook his electric-blue head. “Do you travel in packs so that you have enough brains between you to actually manage to open the doors?” he asked sweetly. 

A low, angry growl swept the group, and Gary felt faint with terror. Quentin was going to get killed! Chet stepped forward, saying nothing. Quentin turned to face him, his blue eyes running appreciatively over the football player’s massive form. “Well, hello, big boy,” he purred. “Aren’t you nice? Just like I like ‘em, big and dumb,” he went on with a wide grin. 

Chet’s eyes narrowed even further, and his nostrils flared visibly. Gary braced himself for the death of his new found friend, and perhaps his own as well. The football player closed in, and Quentin just stood there waiting because he was apparently totally crazy…






Less than a minute later, Gary stood there dazedly staring down at the ground. The thing his eyes were resting on(and that they couldn’t quite take in) was the large form of Chet Rollins, super star football player and school bully. He was splayed out unconscious, with a rapidly forming bruise the size and shape of the low-heeled leather boot on Quentin’s right foot along his jaw. Quentin blew on his fingers and looked at the rest of the gang. “Now," he began as they all gaped at him, “I’m not a violent person. But I could make an exception for a pack of rats like you. You saw what I did to Studly McDingus here,” he waved down at the unconscious Chet, “And you can believe me when I tell you that I can do the same to the rest of you too if you want. Make your choice – do you walk away, taking McGillah Gorillah with you – or do you stay and let me hurt you in various creative ways?”

They all exchanged wild glances as he waited patiently. “You have five seconds to make up your minds,” Quentin began, still smiling(which made the scene all the more eerie), “Five…four…three…two…”

On two, the gang grabbed the arms of their unmoving leader and hauled him big form away, casting wild glances back over their shoulders as they scurried away. Quentin huffed and blew out a breath. “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he sniffed. 

“Wow!” Gary cried, coming out of his daze at last. “That was amazing! What did you do to him?”

Quentin tapped a finger along his cheek. “I’ve always been this way,” he said, waving a hand at his own flamboyant appearance. “My parents were scared that I’d be killed in school, so they signed me up when I was eight for lessons in tae kwon do. I’m a black belt now,” he went on as Gary gaped at him, “The only belt I wear that doesn’t have sparkly things on it. Now do you want to come over to my house and hang out with me?”

He did. he really did. Gary was totally in awe of the new kid, and he trailed after Quentin as they headed for the parking lot together.





Gary stood looking around Quentin’s bedroom in amazement. He heard a chuff of laughter behind him, and then hands pushed him gently forward out of the doorway. “Do you like it?” Quentin asked humorously. “I decorated it all myself.”

Gary could definitely see Quentin’s touch in this room, because it was…well…GAUDY. The walls had been painted in geometric designs in at least a half-dozen bright colors, and posters took up much of the wall space. Gary saw Adam Lambert everywhere, although there were other good-looking men as well. Here was Justin Timberlake, and over there was a handsome black man whose name he didn’t know. There were posters of actors as well, including one of a man he only vaguely recognized as Jonathan Rhys Meyers from The Tudors wearing a gaudy blue-silk outfit and make-up, giving a sultry look into the camera out of lidded eyes. The top of the poster read VELVET GOLDMINE. Was that a movie? Gary wondered as Quentin’s hands propelled him over to the bed and pushed him down on the side of it.

“Would you like something to drink? Some cookies? Mom made some fresh,” Quentin asked him.

“Umm…that sounds good,” he said politely. 

Quentin nodded his electric-blue head. “What would you like? Soda? Juice? Milk? Water?”

“Soda would be good.” Gary replied.

“Great. Dr. Pepper okay? I love that stuff,” Quentin remarked with a smile. 

“It’s fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a sec. Hang out and listen to some music,” Quentin flicked on a stereo on a shelf near the door as he sailed out of it, filling the room with light pop music.

Gary sat on the bed and glanced around, taking in more of the fantastic (and rather tacky) bedroom. A large chair made out of plush purple velvet sat near the window. It had been formed to look like a giant pair of pursed lips. That chair made Gary feel rather uneasy. A bookshelf sat next to the chair, and had been painted white with rainbows and hearts done in stencils on it. The shelves were cluttered with porcelain and blown glass figurines, as well as photos of Quentin at what looked like various martial arts meets. He looked much different wearing the white uniform with the simple black belt at the waist, and with no make-up on his face. Somehow, though…he looked unfinished or something. Quentin was a flamboyant personality, and his look suited him. Him trying to be normal just seemed wrong or something. 

Metals and trophies took up one shelf, showing that Quentin was very good at tae kwon do. Which he’d already seen, today at school with Chet and his gang. Gary couldn’t believe how easily the huge football player had gone down, even though Quentin had had to kick above his head to connect with Chet’s jaw. It had been a thing of beauty. He was privileged to have seen it. And he knew he’d never forget it, the sight of the school’s biggest (literally) bully getting his ass kicked by a flamboyant gay boy a third of his size. It gave him a warm feeling just to think of it, and he couldn’t wait to tell Corey about it tomorrow.




He was looking at some colorful mobiles hanging from the ceiling, trying to tell what some of the things hanging from them were(one appeared to be various martial arts figures in poses, but some of the others weren’t that recognizable), when Quentin returned bearing two cans of Dr. Pepper and a plate full of warm cookies that smelled delicious. “Here we are,” he said cheerfully, plopping down next to Gary on the bed. “Nice and fresh. They’re chocolate chip,” he added, holding out the plate to Gary. “Try one.”

He took a cookie and the can of soda that Quentin held out to him, setting the soda in his lap before taking a bite of the cookie. It was really good, and Quentin smiled at the expression on his face. “Mom’s a great cook, isn’t she?” he said happily. “I guess it’s a good thing that I take martial arts, or I’d probably weight three hundred pounds from her food,” his voice was wryly affectionate.

Gary glanced at him. Quentin didn’t seem to have even an ounce of extraneous flesh on his lithe body. When the cornflower-blue eyes met his, and he realized that Quentin had seen him checking him out, Gary blushed and looked away hurriedly. He heard a chuckle. “You can look all you want,” Quentin teased. “I like people to look at me. Why do you think that I dress this way?”

Gary lifted his shoulders. “I’ve never seen anybody like you before,” he said softly, studying the can of soda in his lap.

“I’m a fish out of water, that’s for sure,” Quentin agreed dryly. “The minute I graduate I’m off to California or back to New York, to find a place where I fit in. I can always come back and visit the ‘rents here in Hicksville once in awhile,” he added. 

Gary considered this. Leave? Go someplace else? Someplace where gay guys weren’t beaten up on or glared at or spat upon? This was a novel concept for him. But a good one, too. Maybe he’d apply to California schools when he graduated. “What do you…want to do after you graduate? Are you going to college?” Gary asked after a moment, daring to glance at Quentin again.

Quentin shrugged. “I dunno,” he drawled. “I’m not sure about that yet. I’ve got plenty of money to go, but maybe I’ll use that to do something else with my life. I don’t believe in going to college if you don’t know why you’re going. That just costs you money with no reward.”

“Are your parents…rich? But why would they move here if they were…?” Gary began, and then hesitated because it wasn’t good manners to talk about such things.

Quentin laughed. “No, they’re not rich. Comfortably well-off, but not rich. No, the money in my college fund I earned myself. Prize money from competitions,” he added, pointing at the photos and trophies on the shelf across from them. “I’ve got like forty grand saved up by now,” he said simply, not bragging but stating a fact.

“Wow!” Gary exclaimed. “You must be really good!”

“Pretty good, yes,” Quentin replied modestly. “Although frankly, that’s only one year at a California college. That’s one reason I’m not sure I want to go. I don’t want to waste my hard-earned cash if I can’t decide what I want to do. What about you, Gary? Do you know what you want to do yet?”

He nodded. “I want to be an engineer,” he told Quentin. “An electrical engineer. I want to do the same work that Nikola Tesla did.”

Quentin cocked his electric-blue head to the side. “Isn’t that the inventor that David Bowie played in The Prestige?” he asked.

Gary nodded. “Yes! Exactly. He was an incredible inventor and genius. There’s so much that can still be done with his work…Tesla Motors, for example. They’ve created an amazing electric car using one of his designs.”

“I saw a picture of one of those,” Quentin mused. “It's beautiful. But don’t those things cost like 150k a pop?”

“Yeah. But don’t you think It’d be worth it to ride in one?” Gary asked.

“Yes, I’d pay that to take a spin in that car. And to think – I’d never have to pay for gas again! Plus, I could paint it some really gaudy, eye-catching color and pick up cute guys in droves,” Quentin said, laughing.

Gary blinked. He’d never heard anyone else talk so casually about homosexuality before this. “What’s it..? I mean, you’re gay and all…?” he began, trailing off as he lost his courage.

Quentin laughed, setting his feet on the bed so that he could put his arms around his knees. “Honey, if I got any gayer I think I’d be classified as some other form of life altogether…Homosexualis Fabulosa,” he added with a grin.

Gary found himself laughing. “You’re so confident,” he began after he’d stopped. “How do you do it? Don’t you ever get scared?”

Quentin tipped his head to the side. “of what, exactly? I can protect myself from the bashers, as you saw today.” He pointed out.

“It's not that. It’s just…you know, when people look down on you and everything,” Gary said uncomfortably.

“Oh, that. Societal disapproval doesn’t bother me either. What are they going to do to me, exactly? Put me in a fag concentration camp? I am who I am, and I’m not going to hide that no matter what. Besides, being like this makes me happy. And who wants to go through life repressed and miserable if they can help it? Well, except for people like Rush Limbaugh,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d like HIM to stay in the closet forever, thank you.”

“Do you think he’s gay?” Gary asked, bewildered.

“Maybe not. But usually people who bash gay people the hardest are repressed, closeted homosexuals themselves. I’m just hoping that’s not the case with guys like him. While I feel sorry for women, let him be a heterosexual, please dear God.” He said fervently.

Gary laughed again, amazed at how often he’d done that in such a short time. “Amen,” he agreed, making Quentin’s eyes twinkle. He glanced around at the posters. “You like Adam Lambert, don’t you?”

“How could I not? He’s everything that I aspire to be. A confident, happily flamboyant, talented, gorgeous gay man. And of course I’d give a million bucks for five minutes in a room with him,” Quentin said with a grin. “What about you? Do you think he’s cute?”

“Well, I guess,” Gary began slowly. “I like his music, but…”

“But you’re not into flamboyant guys,” Quentin said shrewdly. “I can tell because of the way you look at me. More like I’m some kind of exotic species of fish than a guy you’re attracted to in any way. So what’s this David guy like? Is he cute? Sexy? Well-muscled? A hunk?” he said abruptly, catching Gay off-guard.

“Oh, I mean…he’s good-looking, and he has a nice smile, and he’s kind of muscular but not like Chet is, and he can really throw a ball…” he blurted out.

“Bet you’d like him to handle a ball, too,” Quentin said with a wink, making him turn red at the innuendo. “I’ve got to see this paragon for myself. How about you show him to me tomorrow? I’m curious to see what your taste runs to.”

“I guess I could,” he began doubtfully.

“Good. I’ll eat lunch with you too, just in case that big bully Chet tries to get revenge against you because you were with me today and you saw him get his ass kicked. I know his kind. He’ll be steaming mad now, and he’ll want to take it out on those who are helpless rather than those who can fight back. But if he thinks he’s going to be able to do that with impunity while I’m around, he’s got another think coming. I won’t let him pick on my friends.”

It gave Gary a warm feeling to be identified as one of Quentin’s friends. “That was so awesome,” he said fervently. “The way you just kicked him like that and he went down. I wish I could do that…”

“Well, I’d say sign up for some martial arts classes, but it took me years of practice to get that good,” Quentin told him. “So you’ll just have to let me be your bodyguard from now on. Although I’m sure that you’d rather have David guard your body…” he went on with a saucy wink.

Gary was amazed that Quentin seemed able to put a naughty spin on just about everything. He wiggled a little on the bed as Quentin opened his soda and took a drink. He left a faint pink film on the lip of the can. “Ahh, sweet nectar of life,” he said in stentorian tones. “Without which we could not live…”

Gary found himself giggling a little. He liked Dr. Pepper okay, but Quentin apparently adored the stuff. He opened his own can, taking a sip. This was pretty fun, he realized. Here he was with a boy he didn’t have to hide with, a boy who knew what he was and didn’t care. They could talk about anything at all, even guys they found hot and things like that. It felt...good. Really, really good, to have a friend like Quentin. He had the strong feeling that his entire life had just changed, and definitely for the better.





Gary sat across from Quentin and eyed his companion’s clothing in awed disbelief. If anything, his outfit today was even wilder than the one yesterday had been. He’d gelled his electric-blue dyed tresses into a bristly porcupine coat atop his head, and he was wearing a studded, waist-length leather jacket over another skin-tight t-shirt – this one done is a rainbow hue of tie-dye with two male stick figures holding hands under a heart on the front. His pants were strategically ripped jeans that had had colorful rivets and beads glued onto their surface, and were being held up by a wide leather belt with a series of puckered red lips on it. His boots had heels on them, and rainbow laces. A half-dozen necklaces were strung around his throat, some just beads but others more elaborate with charms depending from them. 

Gary was aware that all of the other students in the cafeteria were staring at them and whispering, but he didn’t care. Thanks to his excited recitation to his friend Corey this morning, word had already gotten around that this colorful and flamboyant gay boy had kicked Chet Rollins’ ass yesterday and had made the rest of his gang flee in terror. Nobody else would be stupid enough to try to bash Quentin, and by extension him since he was sort of a member of Quentin’s ‘posse’ now. And he was tired of hiding who he really was. he'd already 'come out' to Corey this morning, and his friend had been surprisingly okay with it. Part of the reason for that seemed to be that he'd suspected that Gary was gay all along, a fact that had startled him. Here he'd thought he was so good at hiding it...he was glad not to have lost Corey's friendship over his sexuality, because he wasn't going to pretend to be something that he wasn't anymore. Not now that Quentin had shown him that it was okay to be who you were, no matter how wild or crazy-seeming that was. He was proud to be considered Quentin’s friend, and he ignored the whispering and stares going on around them as he ate his lunch.

Quentin was eating his own lunch out of a Tupperware container that his mom had packed for him. He’d told Gary that she didn’t approve of cafeteria food, since it was loaded with preservatives and featured too much deep-fried and frozen food. Besides, he himself tried to eat healthfully because he wanted to keep his body in good shape for his martial arts. He’d told Gary that he only drank one Dr. Pepper a day, and that the cookies they’d eaten had been homemade out of organic ingredients – and that he only indulged in sweets once a day, too. Today for lunch he was eating a salad with pieces of roasted chicken breast on top of it, and clearly thoroughly enjoying it. He made small sounds of appreciation, and sometimes licked his (today) cherry-red lips as he ate.

Gary felt his cheeks heat a little at those noises and the lip-licking gesture, looking down to conceal his blush from Quentin. He didn’t want his new friend to think that he was ashamed of him, since he really wasn’t. He was just a little embarrassed; he wasn’t quite used to someone like Quentin yet. “So when do I get to see this David Naylor guy?” Quentin asked, making him jump and look around wildly. 

“Soon!” he hissed. “But keep your voice down, please!”

Quentin looked apologetic. “Sorry,” He said softly. “Oh, look…the behemoth returns.”

Gary’s head whipped around, and he saw Chet Rollins come into the cafeteria. The football player was sans gang today, and his eyes roved around the place until they fell on Quentin. An ugly look passed over his face, and Gary nearly wet himself in terror as Chet strode over to their table. Oh, God! He was a dead man!

Quentin showed no such apprehension. He leaned back in his chair easily and smiled up at the approaching Chet. “Hey, big boy. Did you come back for round 2?” he asked cheekily.

Gary wanted to groan and climb under the table to hide. Chet’s eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. The bruise from yesterday was clearly visible on his cheek. “Don’t think that this is over, fag,” he said quietly in a deadly tone of voice to Quentin.

Quentin’s eyes were wide and innocent. “Oh? You couldn’t get enough of me, is that it? Had to come back for more? I just have that affect on guys,” he added as he fluffed his hair with his fingertips. “I’m irresistible.”

Chet’s upper lip drew back from his teeth. He strongly resembled an angry dog. Gary was shaking, his bladder perilously close to giving way at any moment. “I will kill you,” Chet growled.

Quentin propped his chin on his hand and gave Chet a look from under his lashes. “Is that so? You know what I think?” he said loudly, so that people sitting at the other tables could hear him. “I think that you’re so dead set against gay guys because YOU’RE a closet fag, too. They always do say about people protesting too much, right? Admit it, you want to have sex with me, but you sublimate it into wanting to kick my ass rather than fuck it,” he added with a bright, white-toothed grin. 

The rage on Chet’s face was breathtaking as several people started laughing behind them. Quentin’s eyes were sparkling and rather demonic in their glee. “I knew it,” he said, blowing Chet a kiss. “But you don’t have to stay in the closet, honey. That’s SO 90’s. You should just come out…although I suppose if Tom Cruise can’t do it, you can’t either.”

Chet’s big hands wrapped around his jacket, and the football player yanked the insouciant Quentin to his feet right there in the cafeteria. Gary wanted to whimper and faint as Chet’s face came very close to Quentin’s. “I am NOT a fag,” he snarled. “But you ARE a dead man.”

Quentin continued to grin, then before Chet could react he darted his head forward and kissed him full on the lips! Chet’s head jerked back, but not before everyone had seen Quentin macking on him! With a sound of sheer rage, Chet drew back his fist to hit Quentin. He seemed to have forgotten where he was, and also what had happened to him in his encounter with this boy yesterday. His eyes had a black, deadly look in them. Quentin sighed loudly, then did something with his hands that freed him of Chet’s hold. One arm came up to block the punch, and then he threw one of his own – a tightly controlled blow to the abdomen that doubled Chet up and left him retching on the floor. 

Quentin knelt down next to the incapacitated bully. He said something so softly to him that only Gary heard it, as he was the closest to them: “Just stop this,” Quentin said quietly, “before I’m forced to humiliate you some more. Leave me and my friends alone, and I won’t hurt you. But if you persist in trying to attack us, I’ll have to make you the laughing stock of this school to the point where you won’t even be able to show your face around here anymore. Back off, Chet, and we won’t have any more problems.” Then he stood up, and turned to Gary, who was a quivering wreck in his seat. “Hey, Gary, it’s okay,” Quentin said soothingly to his distraught friend. “Why don’t we go outside for some fresh air? Come on,” and he urged the rather out-of-it Gary from his seat and led him away, leaving a stunned, silent cafeteria behind them still gaping at the sight of the enormous man folded up on the floor trying to get his breath back. 




Quentin took him outside and insisted that he take deep breaths. He patted Gary’s back the entire time, making soothing noises. “See? Nobody got hurt,” he said gently. “Not even Chet…permanently. I told you I’d protect you,” he went on. 

“Yeah,” Gary croaked, recovering his equilibrium somewhat. “I was just so scared…he looked so angry…”

“I’m sure that he was,” Quentin replied with a shrug. “He’s the type that can’t handle their ‘manly’ image being compromised, especially by a gay guy. A REALLY gay guy,” he added, looking down at himself with a quirk of his lips. “So he keeps pushing it because he can’t believe that someone like me could keep on kicking his ass. He thought that first time was a fluke, that I got the drop on him because he wasn’t expecting it. Of course, after what happened back there, he’s going to be angrier than ever…not that I care. He deserves to be humiliated after all the times he’s done the same to other kids. So if he won’t stay away from me he’ll deserve what he gets.”

Gary stared at him in awe. Quentin was just so amazing! Catching his worshipful expression, the blue-haired boy only grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Anyway, are you feeling better? I want to go and see this paragon of manliness that you have a crush on.” Quentin urged him.

Gary felt nervous, but nodded. “He doesn’t eat in the cafeteria - he and his friends go off campus for lunch every day,” he explained. “He should be getting back by now”

“To the parking lot!” Quentin declared, lifting a finger into the air triumphantly.

“Okay, but PLEASE don’t do anything embarrassing!” Gary begged. “Don’t try to talk to him or anything, all right?”

“I promise to be as good as I possibly can,” Quentin said, which didn’t reassure Gary at all.





In the parking lot, Gary scanned the place until his eyes fell on a car just turning into the gates. “That’s his,” he whispered to Quentin, as though David could somehow hear him from all the way across the lot.

Quentin gazed with interest at the car as it found a parking space. When the motor shut off, a half-a-dozen teenage boys jumped out. The one behind the wheel was a leanly-handsome boy with sandy-blonde hair and a nice smile. He was laughing at something one of his friends had said, and Quentin looked him over in approval. “Nice,” he hissed to Gary. “Very good. You’ve got great taste.”

Gary didn’t know whether to feel proud or embarrassed about this statement. And his apprehension returned just then because Quentin said thoughtfully: “I definitely approve of him as a boyfriend for you. We’ll have to come up with as way to get his attention.”

“NO!” Garth nearly shrieked, then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle himself as he went on urgently: “You can’t! We don’t know whether he’s gay or not! I don’t want…I don’t want him to be angry with me,” he added, his shoulders drooping at this horrible prospect. “I couldn’t stand it.”

Quentin patted his shoulders comfortingly. “Okay, I promise I won’t do anything,” he told his friend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, Gary.”

He was so relieved that he almost slid down the car they were hiding behind(well, he was hiding behind it, anyway…Quentin had just joined him there but probably would have ventured over to David’s car to introduce himself if left to his own devices). “Thanks,” he gasped, feeling tears well in his eyes. “I just wish…I wish I could tell whether other guys are gay or not. It’s too hard to have a crush on somebody when you don’t know if he is or isn’t.”

Quentin sighed. ”I know what you mean. High school boys are the worst, because most of them would never admit to being gay under pain of torture. I can’t wait to graduate and get out of here – go to someplace where you don’t have to worry about hiding who you are all the time. A place where if I see a guy I’m interested in, I know he’s gay so I can flirt with him openly. God, I’m glad I’m in my senior year. High school has been hell.”

Gary agreed with him. High school had, indeed, been hell – and that was only because he was a nerd. If it came out that he was gay...which it was bound to now that he was hanging out with Quentin…but he didn’t care so much anymore. He was what he was, a gay teenager who liked machines and computers and was fascinated by electricity. Now, after meeting Quentin, that didn’t seem like such a death sentence anymore.





Quentin was holding court. He’d been called to the principal’s office earlier to have a conversation about what had happened in the cafeteria; and that, along with the spectacle of him sending Chet Rollins to the floor with one blow, had the school in a tizzy. As soon as the last bell rang, a large group of people fell on Quentin. In this case, they weren’t the fag-bashers – they were the kids who’d been tormented and tortured by Chet over the years, the weird and/or unpopular ones who’d borne the brunt of the bully’s anger over the years. They wanted to get to know this amazing new kid, and a bemused Quentin good-humoredly let himself be pulled to the edge of one of the large flowerbeds in the front courtyard so that he could perch there on the concrete edge and talk to the little crowd that had gathered around him.

Gary felt rather left out as he stood at the back of the jostling crowd. He’d been pushed to the side, since no one was interested in a nerdy gay boy who COULDN’T kick Chet Rollins’ ass. But as he stood there feeling rather unhappy, he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at his friend Corey. “I see that he’s the belle of the ball now,” Corey remarked dryly.

Gary nodded. “Yeah. After he punched Chet in the cafeteria…”

Corey shook his head. “Wish I could have been there,” he said unhappily. Unfortunately for him, his mother made him go and eat lunch with her in the office every day. One of the many burdens that he endured, having a parent working at his school. 

“It was SO cool!” Gary chirped excitedly, “Although I was so scared at the time that I thought I was going to shit myself. Chet looked so pissed!”

“Bet he’s even more pissed now,” Corey said shrewdly. “Especially since there isn’t anything he can do to get back at him,” he nodded at Quentin.

Gary smiled blissfully. “I never thought anything like this would happen,” he said. “I mean, Chet’s built like a truck. How could anybody take him down?”

“Yeah. And I missed both times,” Corey sighed in disgust. 

Gary felt sorry for his friend. “Maybe somebody took pictures in the cafeteria,” he remarked hopefully. “On their cell phones. You never know.”

Corey shrugged. “Oh, well, if they didn’t. Anyway, looks like he’s busy. You want to go hang out together?”

“Sure,” Gary said. “Although I wanted to introduce him to you; I just know he’ll like you,” he said earnestly.

Corey smiled and touched him on the shoulder. “And you wondered why I’m your friend when I suspected you were gay,” he said. “You’re a good guy, Gary, no matter which way you swing.”

He smiled back. “Thanks, Corey. Where should we go to hang out?”

"Mickey D’s; I’m hungry,” Corey said succinctly.

“Okay,” they started to turn away and leave, heading for the parking lot and Corey’s beat-up old Chevy. But before they could get far, they both heard Quentin’s raised voice behind them: “Okay, okay. Enough, guys. I’ve gotta go talk to my friend Gary. I’ll see everybody tomorrow,” he neatly extricated himself from the crowd, all of whom looked disappointed. The blue-haired boy strolled over to them, smiling at both Corey and Gary. “Hey, guys. You’d be Corey, right?” he held out his hand to Gary’s friend, who took it with a bemused expression on his face. “Gary’s told me a lot about you,” Quentin explained. “You sound like a great guy,” he added charmingly.

“Uh, thanks,” Corey said. “Gary told me about what happened in the cafeteria today…” 

Quentin shrugged rather ruefully. “Everybody’s blown it all out of proportion,” he said with a moue of his red lips. 

Corey’s brows rose. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You took down CHET ROLLINS with one punch! That’s a feat nobody else could accomplish in this school.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s the cure for cancer or something,” Quentin said self-deprecatingly. “It's just that I’ve been trained to defend myself, that’s all. Anybody who’d had as many years of martial arts as I have could do the same.”

“It's still cool,” Corey said firmly. “The sad thing,” he added with a grimace, “Is that all of the girls think that you’re amazing, and you don’t even care.”

Quentin’s brows lifted. “Oh? And which girl would you want to think that you’re amazing?” he asked with interest. 

Corey looked uncomfortable. “Well…” he began.

Gary giggled. “He likes Amanda Harding,” he said, making his friend glower at him. 

“Amanda Harding. Do I know her?” Quentin asked the air, tapping his full lower lip with his fingertip thoughtfully.

“I doubt it. She works for the school newspaper, and she’s in a bunch of AP classes,” Corey replied with the resigned air of a man who has accepted his lot in life. And that was – a man who didn’t have a chance with the girl he liked.

Quentin threw him a commiserating look. “Who knows? You can never tell what might happen,” he remarked. 

Corey sighed gustily. “Yeah, right. Like Amanda even knows that I exist. I might as well be invisible,” he said glumly.

Gary touched his arm, looking unhappy for his friend’s misery. Quentin’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he looked as though his mind was turning something over. But all he said was: “Were you guys going somewhere? Can I tag along? As the new kid in town, I don’t know that many people yet.”

Gary glanced at Corey, who shrugged. “Sure. We’re just going to McDonalds to hang out,” he said.

“That would be great. If I’m not being a nuisance,” Quentin added.

“Nah. You can tell us about living in New York. It must be pretty different than living here,” Corey said.

“It definitely is. I’ll follow you guys in my car, see you both there,” Quentin waved his fingertips at them, and they started for the parking lot. 

“See, I told you he was nice,” Gary said softly to his friend.

“Yeah, he seems to be,” Corey agreed. “Once you get over the way he looks…”

Gary grinned. “I’ve already gotten used to that,” he said. “It's just part of him being Quentin, I think. Besides, who cares? If he’d worn a clown suit to school I wouldn’t care, because he beat up Chet Rollins twice!”

Corey grinned as they got into his car. “You have a point,” he said. 





At McDonalds, they claimed a small table as their own. Quentin occasionally ate one of Gary’s fries, but didn’t order anything himself. When Corey asked him why, he explained about his eating habits to keep in shape for tae kwan do competitions. Corey looked impressed. “How many have you been in?” he asked.

Quentin sipped some water from the bottle he’d bought. “I don’t keep track anymore,” he replied. “I’ve been competing since I was nine, so there’ve been a lot. They all just become a blur after awhile. What about you, Corey? Do you have any extra-curricular activities?”

“Well, I’m on the track team. But I’m not that great at it,” Corey told him with a shrug. “I’m not really fast enough to win at track meets, although I do pretty good in the relay races.”

“Hey, at least you do that,” Gary said stoutly. “I don’t do any sports at all.”

“That’s because you’re a little string bean,” Corey teased, ruffling his hair affectionately. “No muscles at all,” he added, grabbing Gary’s arm and squeezing a little to illustrate.

“Hey! I’ve got other qualities that make up for it,” Gary huffed.

Corey grinned. “You sure do. A really big…brain,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Gary pretended to be insulted as Quentin laughed at the pair of them. “You can tell that you two have been good friends for a long time,” he noted when they looked at him.

Gary nodded. “Since grade school. I helped him with his homework, and he kept the bigger kids from picking on me. Of course, that was before Chet Rollins showed up; until you moved here, there was no one that could do anything about him.”

“So Chet hasn’t been here all of his life, either?” Quentin asked curiously. 

Corey shook his head. “He moved here with him mom in like the eighth grade,” he said. “Much to everybody’s chagrin. He’s been a bully ever since he first showed up in junior high. That dude seriously has a hate-on for the entire world,” he added in disgust.

“I wonder why?” Quentin said, making both of them give him startled looks.

“What?” Corey asked in puzzlement.

Quentin shrugged. “People who are bullies tend to have anger issues stemming from either family problems or self-esteem issues or a combination of both,” he said blithely, making their jaws drop a little. 

Quentin grinned. “Did I mention that my mom is a therapist who works with children?” he went on, making Gary and Corey blink.

“No, you didn’t,” Gary replied. “I just thought that she was a stay-at-home mom from the way you talked about her.”

Quentin chuckled. “No, she’s not. But she does work at home a lot, which is how she finds time to bake and cook and do all those other ‘mom’ things. She’s talked enough about her work over the years for me to pick some stuff up. Like they hired her to work with a school district to help with the bullying problem that they had. I heard a ton about that over dinner at night for months. About what causes bullies to behave the way they do and that sort of thing. Do either of you know what Chet’s home life is like?”

The two friends exchanged glances. “No,” Corey said. “I mean, who’d want to get close enough to him to find out? Like I said, he lives with his mom.”

“What about his father?” Quentin asked.

Gary scratched at his head. “Nobody really knows, but I heard my mom telling one of her friends that there’s a rumor going around that he’s in prison for killing somebody.”

“A violent person, then,” Quentin noted thoughtfully. “And his mother? Do your mothers talk about her at all?”

“Well, my mom was talking about Chet one day because she was doing some stuff for the football team – he’s their star quarterback – and I overheard her say to Shelly, one of the ladies who works with her in the office, that Chet’s mom never comes to his games or any other school stuff for him because she’s too busy getting tanked up.”

Quentin’s brows lifted a bit. “So his mother is a drunk and his father is in prison,” he said slowly. 

Corey and Gary exchanged another set of glances. “I suppose so,” Corey said slowly. “Geez, I never really thought about it that way. You think that’s why he’s so angry at everybody?”

“It could be one of the root causes of his anger issues, yes,” Quentin said, which made Gary fight not to giggle because Quentin sounding like a psychiatrist was hilarious considering his appearance. “But that still doesn’t mean that he should be let off the hook for acting the way he does. Even if you have a bad home life, that doesn’t mean that you have to take it out on everybody else. Especially people who haven’t done anything to you in the first place.” he went on firmly.

Corey gave him a respectful glance. “I’m beginning to see why Gary wants to be your friend,” he said.

Quentin grinned. “Actually, I asked him to be my friend, not the other way around. And I’m grateful that he said ‘yes’. It’s nice to have a gay friend. But,” he added, looking at Corey, “I like having straight friends, too. So do you think that you could be my friend, Corey? Anyone whose so accepting of his friend being gay is good in my book,” he said with a smile.

Corey looked uncomfortable over this praise, but nodded. “Sure, we could be friends. I just want to be there for the next time you beat down Chet!” he went on emphatically. “It drives me nuts that I missed both times!”

“I’ll try to schedule it at a time that you’re around,” Quentin said drolly.




Quentin wandered into the room where the members of the school’s Journalism Club met after classes every day. Here they collected information, wrote stories, and printed the articles up once a week into the school newspaper. He stood looking around with interest, seeing half-a-dozen computers on desks, a copy machine in one corner, and the miniature printing press that the students used to make the newspaper. A handful of people were in the room, and one of them looked up at him standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened a little, and then she got to her feet and came over to him.

“Hi,” she said. “Can I help you?”

He smiled at her. “Hello,” he said cheerfully. “I’m new to your school, and I’ve already heard good things about the school newspaper. I was thinking that I might like to join the Journalism Club.”

She got a look of faint alarm on her face at his words, her eyes running over him as though she were looking at a species of exotic plant that had shocked her by starting to walk and talk. “Erm…” she began uncertainly.

“Its okay, Denise,” another feminine voice remarked. Both of them looked at the newcomer, a pretty girl with long dark hair in a tail behind her head and a pair of keen eyes the color of spring leaves looking at him from behind the lenses of her glasses. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay,” the girl called Denise said in relief. “I’ll just finish writing my article,” she added, slipping away back to her computer hurriedly.

The other girl smiled at him in greeting. “Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said.

His smile widened. “I’m Quentin,” he replied, “Although I suspect that you already know that?” he went on shrewdly.

She laughed. “Yes, I do. Everybody in school knows about you now. If the principal weren’t so dead set against it, I’d publish an article about what you did to Chet Rollins in the cafeteria the other day. As you might imagine, I’m not his biggest fan,” she went on with a grimace. “A lot of the girls in school swoon over him, but I’ve never liked the fact that he’s a bully who picks on the weaker kids.”

He gave her an admiring look. He could now see exactly why Corey liked her, besides the fact that she was pretty. “Well, I was just protecting myself,” he began, “Because both times Chet attacked me first. I would never initiate anything – my sensei would have my head on a plate if I ever used my skills for anything besides self-defense.”

“I see. You said something to Denise about wanting to join our club? Have you ever written for a newspaper before?”

“No, but I’d really like to give it a try here. I thought that maybe I could write a pop culture series for the newspaper? You know, writing about music and clothes, and movies, and TV. That sort of thing. I think I’d be really good at it,” he said persuasively. 

Her eyes ran over him boldly, and she grinned. “I can see that,” she said humorously. 

He chuckled, setting one hand on his hip as he preened a bit. “What can I say? I have a unique sense of style and a flair for fashion,” he said, running his other hand down the front of the glittery denim jacket that he was wearing over a slightly bloused white satin shirt. 

Amanda’s eyes were dancing. “Yes. I suppose we could fit an article in every week, as long as it doesn’t take up too much space. Do you think you could keep it short and sweet?”

“I’m sure I can,” he replied with a grin. 

“All right. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll show you the basics of writing a newspaper article.”

“Great. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the school newspaper from my friend Corey,” Quentin said easily as he went with her over to her computer.

She glanced at him in surprise. “Corey?”

“Corey Jackson. Maybe you know him?” Quentin asked innocently.

She surprised him by nodding. “He’s on the track team,” she replied. “I interviewed them for an article not long ago.”

“I see,” he studied her face, watching her expression. She was staring at her screen, but was that a bit of heightened color in her cheek? “Corey is a great guy,” he said. “Even though he’s straight,” he added, emphasizing the word ‘straight’ for good measure, “He still didn’t reject his friend Gary when Gary came out to him, and he became my friend too. A really nice guy.”

She glanced up at him. “It’s good to hear that there are straight guys in this school who don’t act like Chet and his gang,” she said. 

“Yes, Corey’s just been awesome. And he really likes…the newspaper,” he went on with a faint smile. “He had nothing but good things to say about it.”

“I’m glad. We like to know that our work is appreciated,” Amanda remarked.

“Oh, it is, trust me,” Quentin said.






He was feeling in a very good mood when he wandered back out of the room an hour later. Amanda had shown him how to construct a newspaper article, and she’d let him try his hand at it. He thought he’d be pretty good, actually. And of course, he’d mentioned his new friend Corey more than once during their conversation, praising him to the skies. He might have overplayed his hand a bit, but he suspected that Amanda thought that he had a crush on Corey, rather than the truth that he was trying to get HER interested in his friend instead. He whistled happily to himself as he strolled along, feeling in good charity with the whole world.

But of course his good mood was spoiled when a large body stepped around a corner and confronted him. He came to a halt, looking up into Chet’s handsome face. The big man’s upper lip lifted a little, but he made no move to step closer to Quentin. He was dressed in his football uniform, and damn if he wasn’t the hottest thing to wear a pair of tight pants that Quentin had seen in awhile! It was too bad that his personality didn’t match his physique…

“Hello, Chet,” he said aloud. “Have you come back for more? Away from all of those watching eyes, so that can’t see when I inevitably humiliate you again?”

A silent snarl. The caramel-colored eyes were dark and full of rage. Quentin was aware that the big man wanted nothing more than to snap his neck like a twig, if only he could have. Was it bad that this excited him more than it disturbed him? And not only because he could easily defend himself, either. He smiled sensually, tilting his head to one side. “You’re only this interested in me because you really want to fuck me,” he taunted. “That’s it, isn’t it? You have all of these secret yearnings, and you sublimate them under all of this ‘I hate fags’ bravado. You should just admit it. Come on, kiss me,” he crooned, stepping closer to Chet. “You know you want to, big man.”

Chet’s eyes were riveted on his pink-painted mouth. He let his lips widen into a cat-like smile as he took another step closer to the football player. “Just one kiss,” he coaxed. “I swear you’ll love it.” He ran his tongue deliberately over his full bottom lip, and Chet visibly began to sweat. 

Closer. Closer. Chet began to look alarmed, and backed up away from him warily. Quentin’s smile took on a devilish quality. “You’re not scared of getting your ass beat again, but you’re scared of a little ‘ol kiss?” he said incredulously. “You really are a closet case, aren’t you? A big stud like you, a total coward. I’m disappointed, I must say.”

Chet snarled at him again, but didn’t stop backing up. Quentin feinted, pretending to dart at him but pulling back at the last moment. Chet jumped about a foot in the air, an amusing sight in such a big guy. Quentin began to laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so easy,” he said, still giggling. 

Chet gave him a frustrated, fuming look. Quentin cocked his head and crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture. “I’m a naughty boy, aren’t I?” He purred. “Bet you’d LOVE to spank me for being bad.” He shook his hips in a decidedly lascivious manner. “I might even let you,” he added wickedly. 

The football player visibly gritted his teeth. “You’re a pervert,” he snapped.

“Yes, I am. And you’d love to be one too, wouldn’t you? If only you could let yourself go enough for your wild side to come out. Then we could get freaky together,” Quentin said impishly.

“Forget it,” Chet said stonily. 

“Oh, well. Your loss, honey,” Quentin told him, flicking his fingers in dismissal at the bigger man. “But if that closet ever gets too stuffy and airless for you, come out of it and join the party,” he blew Chet a kiss, and then walked away. He did it deliberately, giving Chet an opportunity to rush him from behind. He knew that the football player didn’t stand a chance, but Chet didn’t know that…






But nothing happened. Apparently Chet had enough control over himself and his temper not to chance further humiliation at Quentin’s hands. He shrugged to himself as he strolled along. He found Chet Rollins quite interesting. By listening to the chatter of his fellow students, and keeping an eye on the football player, he’d already come to the conclusion that there was more to the big man than met the eye. Most bullies weren’t very smart; and generally, football players weren’t either. But Chet broke that mold. According to one of Gary’s fellow nerds, Chet was in both a physics and a chemistry class, and did well in both. So there were brains to go along with the muscles. It was just too bad that he was so angry and scared both. Otherwise, he’d totally be Quentin’s type – big, brainy, gorgeous and just a little bit violent…not the abusive sort of violence, just the kind that would make him a little rough in bed. That appealed to Quentin’s kinky side. Too bad, all around. 





Quentin dismissed Chet from his mind for the moment as he left the school to go and meet up with his friends at McDonald’s. All three of them had had after school activities – Corey the track team, Gary Chess Club, and Quentin of course had decided to introduce himself to the members of the Journalism Club. So they were only there a little bit before him when he walked in, and they had just gotten their food. He waved at them as he walked up.

“Hi guys,” he said as he slid into the booth.

“Hey, Quen,” Corey said lazily. Gary echoed his greeting, smiling at his new friend as Quentin sat down across from them.

“How was track practice?” Quentin asked Corey.

“Pretty good. I think we have a chance on Saturday.” Corey said. “And it’s a home team advantage.”

“Cool. We’ll have to come to the meet and cheer you on. Won’t we, Gary?” Quentin said. 

Gary nodded. Corey looked pleased. “Hey, that’d be great. And I guess we can go to your chess match next week,” he told Gary, who laughed at his expression.

Quentin looked at them curiously. Gary explained. “Corey always comes to my matches, but he’s always bored half to death,” Gary said with a giggle. “He doesn’t think much of chess.”

“Oh,” Quentin said, his own lips twitching. 

Corey shrugged uncomfortably. “It just seems pretty boring to me,” he said defensively.

Gary patted his arm. “I understand,” he told his friend. “I’m just grateful that you come to my matches anyway. Thanks, Corey.”

“Hey, you come to all of my meets,” Corey pointed out. 

Quentin smiled at both of his new friends. He idly ate a fry, thinking to himself that this move had turned out far better than he would ever have imagined when his parents had told him that they were going to have to relocate because of his father’s job.





Gary sat on the stands and worried. Corey’s track meet was about to start, and Quentin hadn’t arrived yet. He’d said that he’d definitely be here…Gary just hoped that he’d show up and support Corey. Or call and give a good reason for why he wasn’t coming. Corey would be disappointed if their new friend didn’t show up for his meet. He bit at his lower lip, squirming on the metal seat a little as his anxiety ratcheted up even more.

But then a familiar voice called to him, and he turned with a gasp and a glad look to see Quentin edging down the row toward him. The blue-haired boy lifted his hand and waved. His outfit was wild as usual. He was wearing the school colors of blue and gold in honor of Corey’s meet. His very tight pants were gold jeans with blue stars sewed down the seams, and his shirt was a blue t-shirt with spangles and gold stars all over the front. He wore a wide belt of woven golden threads and some necklaces made of the same metal with stars depending from them. A dazzled (and rather horrified) Gary wondered silently where he’d gotten all of this stuff that had the school’s colors on them in time for this meet. 

“Hey, Gary! Am I late?!” Quentin called as he approached.

He shook his head. “It’s just about to start,” he told his friend happily.

Quentin grinned. “I’m glad. I had to pick somebody up, so I wasn’t sure that I’d get here on time.”

“Pick someone up?” Gary asked.

Quentin nodded. He turned and motioned to the person who had come up behind him without Gary noticing. “Gary, this is Amanda Harding. She’s covering the meet for the newspaper. Amanda, this is my friend Gary Finch. He’s here as Corey’s support today.”

Gary’s mouth dropped open as Corey’s crush leaned around Quentin a bit and smiled at him. “Hi, Gary,” she said. “Aren’t we in the same Geometry class?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stuttered, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Quentin had brought Amanda of all people to the meet today! 

“I thought so,” she said. “Quentin’s told me all about you and Corey; he’s always talking about you guys. Do you mind if we sit with you?”

“Of course not,” he said as Quentin beamed at both of them. Amanda perched on the bench, and Quentin plopped down next to Gary. He gazed down at the track below, where boys and girls in dozens of schools' track uniforms were stretching in preparation. “Where’s Corey?” he asked. “Oh, there he is. He looks good in that uniform,” Quentin remarked. “I didn’t know he had that many muscles.”

Gary had to fight the urge not to giggle hysterically. Amanda laughed and shook her head. “Are you sure you don’t have a crush on him?” she teased, elbowing Quentin in the side a little.

He shrugged. “I just appreciate all of that male beauty,” he told her. “I don’t think having a crush on a heterosexual is a good idea. It just leaves you open for heartbreak and misery without accomplishing anything. And I know for a fact that Corey really likes girls.” He added. 

Amanda laughed again as Gary looked wildly from her to Quentin. “And you’re absolutely sure of that?” she asked.

Gary froze, waiting for Quentin to tell her just WHY he knew that Corey liked girls. But Quentin only chuckled himself and told her: “Yes, I am. He checks out girls all the time, but he never checks out ME,” he put a hand to his forehead melodramatically. “It’s such a shame,” he went on with a mock pout. “I guess I’m not pretty enough for him.”

Gary let out a relieved breath as Amanda patted Quentin’s shoulder comfortingly. “I don’t think it’s that,” she said. “You’re plenty pretty, Quen. It’s just you’re the wrong sex, that’s all. We girls still sometimes attract guys too, you know,” her smile was impish and teasing.

“Yes, I know,” Quentin sighed in a put-upon sort of way. “Breeders. What can I say?”

Amanda laughed heartily, and even Gary giggled a little now that he was sure that Quentin wasn’t going to give Corey’s secret away to his crush. “Oops, looks like they’re going to start,” Quentin remarked. 






He was right, and all three of them settled down to watch Corey’s track meet. They, along with all of the other people on the stands, cheered vigorously when the school did well. Corey shone in the relay race, and crossed over the finish line (he was the last leg) in second place just behind the best school (for track, anyway) in the state. He stood panting and recovering as his friends cheered him wildly, Quentin jumping up and down and giving forth wolf whistles as loudly as he could when not chanting Corey’s name at the top of his lungs. Corey looked up at them and grinned triumphantly, lifting a hand above his head in acknowledgement of his friends’ presence. 

“That was amazing!” Quentin said when they finally sat back down. “I’m so proud of him!”

“Me, too,” Gary replied fervently.

Amanda just looked at them both with a small smile on her face. There were more events after Corey’s, so they sat through the rest of them and then the medal ceremony afterward. But finally they got to go down to the field and talk to their friend, although there were so many other people down there that they had to wade through the crush. Quentin craned his neck as he led the other two along, trying to spot Corey. He finally caught a glimpse of his friend, and towed Gary and Amanda toward him determinedly. “Hey, Corey!” he called. “Way to go, man!”

“Quen, Gary! Hey!” Corey cried, waving at the two of them. He was wearing his silver medal around his neck. “Thanks for coming, guys!”
‘Like we would have missed it for the world,” Quentin assured him. “Hey, we brought somebody else today, too. She’s covering the meet for the paper. You know Amanda Harding, right, Corey?” he said quasi-innocently as he stepped back out of the way.

Corey froze, his eyes practically bugging out of his head as the girl he’d had a crush on for almost two years smiled at him. “Hi, Corey,” she said. “You did really well today.”

“Uh, uh…” he stammered, completely tongue-tied. 

Quentin rolled his eyes in the background. “I was thinking,” he said loudly over the sounds of many other people talking, “That you and Amanda should talk. You know, maybe she could do an interview with you for the newspaper? Maybe somewhere quieter,” he added, looking around in annoyance at the crowd surrounding them.

“I’d like that,” Amanda told Corey. “What do you say? Do you want to do an interview for the newspaper?”

“Sure,” he said, sounding dazed. “Okay.”

“Come on, then. Quentin’s right, we need to go someplace quieter,” Amanda gestured to him, and Corey followed her tamely as they exited the crowd. Quentin and Gary followed along behind them, but at the last moment Quentin grabbed Gary’s arm. “Let’s go wait for them in the parking lot,” he hissed in Gary’s ear. 

His friend nodded and went with him, still completely thrown by how easily Quentin had managed to do something that Corey hadn’t been able to in almost two years – i.e., get Amanda Harding and Corey Jackson alone together. And in only two weeks since he’d first come to the school! Gary glanced sideways at Quentin as they walked to the parking lot together. “You brought her here today so that she could talk to Corey, didn’t you?” he asked softly.

Quentin smiled slyly at him. “Who, me?” he said, setting a hand on his chest. Then he began to laugh heartily. “Mea culpa,” he admitted easily. “I figured that if they could just get together alone somewhere, Corey could do the rest. We’ll find out if I’m right or not,” he added with a shrug. “But either way, he’s got the chance. What he does with it is his problem, not mine.”

“That was really great,” Gary told him earnestly. “What you did. Even if it doesn’t work out, thanks for doing it, Quentin.”

Quentin patted his shoulder. “Anything for my friends,” he said cheerfully.

Something occurred to Gary that made him look decidedly worried. “You’re not…going to do that with… David, are YOU?!” he blurted out, his eyes wide.

“Scout’s honor. I promise not to do the same thing with David,” Quentin said, making a cross over his heart with two fingers. 

Gary felt relieved. It didn’t occur to him that Quentin had only said that he wouldn’t do the same thing with David, not that he wouldn’t do anything else to try to get him and Gary together. The two of them leaned on the hood of Quentin’s car as they waited for Corey to appear, talking in a desultory manner.





Suddenly Quentin straightened up as he noticed someone standing nearby. His blue eyes came to rest on a by-now familiar face, as he saw Chet Rollins pausing beside his car while he stared across the parking lot at Quentin expressionlessly. He was wearing his football uniform again; most likely the team had been practicing on the other field while the track meet was going on. Quentin stared him down, seeing the caramel-colored eyes narrow slightly. He smiled in a decidedly lascivious manner and blew the gorgeous hunk an air kiss. Chet’s mouth compressed a little, but he only got into his car and drove off, rather than reacting in any way to Quentin’s usual outrageous behavior.

Gary had watched this whole little tableau, and he marveled that Quentin would provoke Chet like that. It was true that there was little that the football player could do in retaliation, but still…he shivered at the very thought of doing something like that himself. Quentin settled his butt back on the hood, shaking his head. “Why,” he asked the air and the world in general, “Are the best looking ones always the closet cases? It’s not fair.”

Gary gaped at him, for he’d never really thought of Chet as being good looking before this. It was difficult to do so when said good looking person was threatening to twist your head off of your neck if you didn’t give him your lunch money. “Do you…really think that Chet’s gay?” he asked timidly.

“I’d bet money on it, Gary,” Quentin replied. 

“Oh,” Gary thought about this silently. “Then…do you want to…I mean…get with him?” he asked next. 

“I’d love to, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. He’s too deep in denial,” Quentin remarked in disgust. 





Gary might have replied to this, but just then Amanda and Corey emerged from the side gate together. Corey looked dazed, and Amanda was smiling slightly. “Hey, guys. Would you wait for a few minutes while I use the rest room, Quentin?” she asked.

“Sure," he said, smiling back at her. 

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute,” she waved at them and departed for the rest rooms, while both Quentin and Gary looked at their friend. 

“You okay, Corey?” Gary asked worriedly.

“Okay?” he repeated. His eyes came back from wherever he’d gone to, and his whole face lit up with happiness tempered with disbelief. “I’m more than okay! Gary, Quen, I asked her out! I don’t know how I did, but I did! And she said YES!” he cried, sounding astonished but completely pumped.

Gary smiled widely at him. “That’s awesome, Corey!” he replied. 

Quentin nodded and said: “That’s very awesome, Corey. Congratulations. Where are you taking her?”

“We’re going to a movie tomorrow,” Corey said, running a hand through his sweat-spiked hair. 

“A good first date,” Quentin remarked judiciously. “Although perhaps you should take her somewhere nicer for the second.”

Corey blinked, staring at him. “Do you think that there’ll be a second?” he asked hopefully. 

Quentin nodded. “I’m absolutely sure of it,” he replied confidently.




Buoyed by his success with Corey, Quentin decided to set his sights on his next target: David Naylor, Captain of the school’s baseball team. He also decided to waste no time, because he wanted Gary to be as happy as his friend Corey was. The date had obviously gone well, and Corey was now wandering around the school looking blissful and text messaging his new girlfriend every twenty minutes. It was a good thing for Corey, Quentin thought to himself in amusement, that Amanda didn’t seem to mind this habit. He knew that Corey would settle down and get over his nervous excitement in time, and until then Amanda would just have to be patient with him. Fortunately she seemed like a patient girl, and she obviously liked Corey. Which made his ego swell a little, but he was allowed to feel a bit victorious, wasn’t he?

On the matter of David Naylor, Quentin decided to be his usual bold self. So on Wednesday afternoon, he left the school and went out to the baseball field. There was a small set of bleachers there, and he sat down on them as he watched the baseball team practicing. They looked good; both literally and in terms of their playing, as well. His lips stretched in a small, wicked smile at this thought. There were some good-looking boys on the baseball team. He drooled a bit as he enjoyed the view, his long fingers absently stroking the pencil in his hand. His excuse for being out here was that he was doing a story on the team for the paper. Which was a total load of bull, of course; he did a little fashion and pop culture column, he didn’t write for the sports section. 

Suddenly he straightened up, because David Naylor had left the mound (he was the pitcher as well as team captain) and began to walk toward the bleachers. His face wore a rather puzzled, uncertain expression, a look that Quentin was used to seeing on people’s faces when they saw him. He supposed that the sleeveless t-shirt with the rooster on it and the caption: Want some cock? Would be enough to put a lot of people off. He supposed he should have kept on the more conservative long-sleeved shirt that he’d worn at school (so he wouldn’t be kicked out for wearing the t-shirt) so as not to freak David out, but he wanted to see what the baseball player’s reaction to it would be. 

“Hi!” he chirped cheerfully.

“Uhh, hello,” David replied cautiously as he stopped at the bottom of the bleachers. 

“You guys are really good,” Quentin told him sincerely.

“Thanks,” David paused, and then said: “You’re the new kid, right?”

Quentin fluffed his electric-blue locks idly. “What gave me away?” he asked with in impish smile.

David huffed in laughter. “I can’t imagine,” he replied. “Anyway, why are you out here? Are you just watching? Because…well, not to be impolite or anything, but you’re kind of distracting.”

“Yes, I’d imagine that I am,” Quentin agreed in amusement. “But no; I’m here for the school newspaper. I write a piece for it,” he added, not saying that he wrote a piece that had nothing to do with sports whatsoever. 

“Oh. I see.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, could we do an interview?” Quentin said to him hopefully. “You being the team captain and all, it would be good to get a quote from you about the team.”

“I guess that would be okay,” David said. He turned back to the field and called out: “Hey, guys! He’s here for the paper! Let’s knock off for today, okay?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, and most of the players left the field. A few remained, idly throwing a ball back and forth as they watched their captain walk up and settle next to Quentin on the stands. They seemed more curious than hostile. Quentin was happy to see that, after Chet and his crowd of football players. 

“Thanks for talking to me,” he said as he set pencil to paper. “Before we start though – do I make you really uncomfortable? I know I make a lot of people that way,” he said with a shrug. 

David rolled his shoulders a bit. “Well, you’re kind of…colorful,” he conceded, his eyes looking at the front of the t-shirt that Quentin was wearing. “But honestly…anybody who can kick Chet Rollins’ ass twice in one week is okay with me.”

Quentin’s brows shot up. “Other people have said that to me, too,” he conceded. “He doesn’t seem very popular with some sections of the school.”

“That’s because he’s a dick,” David replied. “And he thinks he’s God’s gift to everything, too, just because he’s on the football team.”

Quentin didn’t point out that what David had just said had sounded a lot like jealousy, because he didn’t want to make David angry. So he changed the subject. “Thanks for not freaking out about me,” he said gratefully. “I know I get on a lot of people’s nerves, being a flamboyant gay boy.”

David scratched at his head. “Well, as my girlfriend likes to tell me, gay people are just like the rest of us. Although I’m not sure that you’re just like the rest of us,” he said doubtfully, “But not in a bad way,” he added hurriedly.

Quentin felt his heart sink. “Girlfriend?” he said casually.

David nodded. “Uh huh. Maybe you know her? Janelle Adams. We’ve been going out for awhile now. She’s really great,” he went on, obviously meaning it. 

Quentin felt rather sick. This was bad. David not only had a girlfriend, but he displayed none of the signs of a closet case who was dating girls to hide who he was. David didn’t seem like a homophobe at all. Worse, he hadn’t given Quentin that LOOK – the one that said that he was oh-so-subtly checking another guy out. He didn’t like guys. This was awful! What was he going to tell Gary?

Well, the truth, of course. It would hurt his friend, but perhaps also relieve him to know one way or the other. Glumly he remarked: “Well, I’ll just ask you some questions if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” David said. “Ask away."




Go to Part 2