Chapter Twelve

Though exceedingly reluctant, Penny agreed to drive Jonathan to school the next morning. She was on edge the entire way, constantly double- and triple-checking before she made any turns. Jonathan hated to see her in such a state, but there was nothing he could do. As they finally pulled up to the school, Jonathan realized

“Mum, are you gonna be OK to drive back?” he asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“I'll be fine, Jonathan, don't worry,” she quietly replied. He believed her, but as he left he noticed she was tightly gripping the steering wheel.

Jonathan power walked into the school, completely bypassing the group of boys without so much as a glance up. Chris noticed, but didn't mind; it was freezing outside, and he wasn't entirely sure why he himself wasn't inside.

Jonathan walked to his locker with a purpose. Not that the purpose would be fulfilled at his locker, he just needed to prepare himself for later on. So, everything he did that morning was done with a purpose, until he finally strode into the lunchroom.

He even sat down with a purpose. None of the other boys were there, but this was usual. Jonathan was always there first, then most of the time Crack or Tom would show up. Occasionally, Steve would be there after Jonathan, but as of late he'd been arriving just after Spencer and just before Matt.

Today it was Tom who graced Jonathan with his presence first. He sat in the seat opposite Jonathan, where Devon had always sat. Though it had only been a day since his departure, Jonathan was guessing that Tom was trying to take over Devon's position as the group leader. It wasn't going to work, though, because he was the same social status as the rest of them, if not a tiny bit lower.

Tom started talking about the troubles the American economy was experiencing, and Jonathan would have loved to stuff a sock in his mouth so he'd shut up. Tom went on and on about how he was glad that he didn't live there anymore, but eventually England would suffer, too, and maybe he should just move to Japan or something. Of course, his parents wouldn't want to do that, did Jonathan even know what the Japanese did? Pearl Harbor. That was bad news.

“Lots of Americans were killed, Jonathan,” Tom apprised. “Lots. And could you imagine if my grandfather had been there? I might not have been born, all thanks to some Japanese people I don't know. Thankfully, he was off... sleeping with hookers or something, but he did fight in the war, because it's not like he was completely unpatriotic or anything.”

Tom's World War II lecture continued on long after the other boys sat down and told him that no one cared. Unfortunately, Tom didn't care, either, so his mouth kept spitting out useless information until his stomach informed him that it would like to be digesting some nutrition.

Jonathan wasn't even sure yet how he was going to do it. He'd thought about it almost every moment since the previous night, but it wasn't easy to decide on the exact method to use. He had to do it soon, though, that much he knew for sure.

“So, Spencer,” Crack, who was sitting next to Jonathan, casually began. Spencer looked up quickly and waited for Crack to continue. “What're you collecting this week, hmm?”

“Shoes,” Spencer replied with big eyes. “You'd be amazed at how many shoes you can find just lying around.”

“Lying around where?” Steve snorted. Spencer snapped his head around.

“Everywhere,” he simply said. Then he turned back to Crack. “Napkins, too. So, when you're done with that...”

Crack looked down at his tray to see what Spencer was pointing at. Go figure, he was pointing at Crack's napkin. He narrowed his eyes at Spencer and suspiciously said, “Yeah. We'll see.” Spencer nodded, then sat back in his chair with a creepy satisfied grin on his face.

“So, anyway,” Steve tried to say as nonchalantly as he could, then began a discussion about some television program. Matt joined in, giving all sorts of insight into what was supposedly going to happen next on the show. Crack didn't believe him, but Tom chimed in to say that he heard it was true, too. That didn't make Crack any less skeptical.

Jonathan tapped his fingers on the table. He was predictably tired of their conversation. It was time, anyway. On somewhat of a whim, he lifted the freshly opened, but as of yet untouched carton of milk that was just chilling on Crack's tray.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Crack shouted, but Jonathan didn't listen, didn't respond. He just stood up and began to walk across the room. And he walked with a purpose.

In the final stretch, about five feet from his destination, he started to feel it. The blood coursing through his veins pricked him in as many places as it could, leaving behind a nervous tingle shivering throughout his body. It was sort of frightening, but at the same time, sort of empowering.

Chris looked a little nervous, but he hadn't even seen Jonathan walk up. He was talking to some other boy, and he kept halfheartedly laughing every now and then at the boy's story. Jonathan didn't bother to stop to get Chris's attention, though he didn't have to; Chris turned his head when Jonathan was still in motion and then smiled at him without even thinking.

About half a minute passed before Chris realized what was going on. His and Jonathan's lips were locked together, which was wonderful until he remembered that he was in the middle of a cafeteria filled with other boys. But before he could react properly, something dropped on his head. It was solid, in a way, but liquid was trickling down his forehead and the back of his neck, too.

Jonathan walked back to the other table. He didn't dare turn to look at the scene behind him. The silence ringing throughout the room said enough by itself, and Jonathan could infer from observing the boys in front of him that everyone else was already looking at Chris. As it should be.

“It wasn't even any good,” Jonathan said to Crack as he sat down. He threw the empty carton onto the tray in front of Crack, who was staring bug-eyed at Jonathan. “Way past expired.”

Suddenly, there was a loud, ghastly shriek from the other side of the room, and then came the sound of footsteps running out the door. There was only one other short moment of silence before laughter burst out of the other boys.

Jonathan just sat there, feeling quite accomplished, ignoring the few stares he was still receiving. Eventually, everyone returned the favor and left Jonathan alone. He was quite happy with that.

For the rest of the school day, he warded off the occasional looks that the others gave him. He didn't really care about what they thought. In any case, they'd probably forget about him soon enough, like the way his fame merely two days prior had been extremely short-lived. They wouldn't forget Chris, though, and that was the point.

Jonathan had become so accustomed to walking home that he didn't even think to look for his mother's car after school. It was just as well, anyway, as he wouldn't have found it. Even with all of the cold air smacking him around, he still didn't think about it until he reached his house to see the car sitting uselessly in the driveway.

“Jonathan, I'm sorry,” Penny immediately told him as he walked through the door. He had only just entered the house, and already she was all up in his space. “I was going to pick you up, but I- I couldn't.”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” Jonathan waved. “I'm used to walking home, and if you're not comfortable with driving, then I don't want to force you to do it.”

“Jonathan, you shouldn't be so nice to people,” Penny replied, rather drained. Jonathan laughed, mostly to himself.

“Mum, I'm not that nice, trust me.” Jonathan walked past Penny, into the kitchen, and over to the fridge to get a drink. Penny followed him most of the way, but stopped at the kitchen table.

“Right, like you go around robbing houses and punching old ladies all the time...” Penny briefly paused, resting a hand on one of the nearby chairs. “Then again, you do like to go on all those walks, and you're never really clear about where you are or anything.”

“Trust me, I would never punch an old lady. And I don't think I have the stealth to rob a house without getting caught.” Jonathan turned around and somberly added, “And I don't think that I'll be going on very many walks anymore.”

“Too cold?”

Jonathan stared at Penny, and decided to take the easy way out. “Yeah. One of the things I hate about winter, the fact that it's too damn cold to go outside.”

“You used to love playing outside in the winter,” Penny quietly, nostalgically said, with eyes set on the floor.

“I used to do a lot of things that I don't anymore, mum.” Jonathan shrugged and continued, “Things change.” Penny looked up and slowly nodded.

“Things do change, yes. Then one day you wake up, and you realize that you hardly know your son anymore. And you look out the window and see a smashed lamp on the ground.”

“Oh,” Jonathan laughed, “oops. I suppose I should clean that up, huh?”

“That would probably be a smart thing to do.” Penny tried to stare at Jonathan as motherly as she could, and she seemed to do a fine job, if Jonathan's reaction was any indication. Jonathan stalked off into the other room, threw on his shoes and a jacket, and quickly ran to pick up the broken pieces of lamp. He wasn't sure that he'd gotten the entirety, but after about three minutes or so he was growing weary of the cold.

He tossed the broken lamp into the garbage can on his way back inside. He undressed his outdoor attire as swiftly as he had put it on, and walked back into the kitchen, where he assumed he'd find his mother. His assumption was correct; Penny was standing in front of an open cabinet, observing the shelves' stock.

“Finished already?” she asked without looking back.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got it all,” Jonathan replied, and he walked closer to his mother. Penny continued to silently stare at the food for another minute.

“What do you want for dinner, kid?” she finally spoke.

“Kid?” Jonathan laughed. Penny turned and gave Jonathan a look that said, You heard me. “You don't already have anything planned?” Penny shook her head and closed the cabinet.

“To be honest, I haven't done anything since this morning. When I got home, I just... it wasn't gonna happen.” Penny sighed, trying to shake off her sense of failure. She looked up at Jonathan, who seemed to be silently telling her not to worry. “Should I order pizza or something?”

“Pizza sounds delightful,” Jonathan replied. He lifted his arm and pointed his thumb backwards at the other room. “I'm gonna go sit in the living room now.”

“Have fun with that,” Penny called as Jonathan left the room. He flopped down onto the couch and reached for the remote. He never usually watched all that much TV, but he figured he'd give it a go. Of course, after five minutes and three searches through every single channel, he found nothing that caught his attention, so he switched the set off again. As he did so, he heard the thud of a closing phone book and the beep of a cordless phone being hung up.

Jonathan lay motionless for quite a while, just plainly staring up at the ceiling. The tiles in the living room weren't much different from the tiles in his room. Still, it was an old habit of his, and a very hard one to break. Finally, he heard his mother creeping into the room.

“Nothing good on?” she asked as she sat down. Jonathan shook his head, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. Penny gave a small laugh and said, “Figures. Pizza should be here in-”

A loud knock interrupted Penny's sentence, and both she and Jonathan looked over at the doorway. Penny got up to answer the door, all the while mumbling about how she had no idea who it could be, it was much too soon for the pizza guy to be there. Jonathan stayed in his spot until he heard a familiar voice.

“Is Jonathan home?”

“Yes, he is. I'll go get him for you,” Penny replied, and she turned around to fetch Jonathan. She didn't need to, though, as he was already right behind her. She moved out of the way so that he could speak with the boy at the door.

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asked. Chris looked terrible, as expected, though Jonathan certainly hadn't expected to see him at all. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were flushed. It looked like some of his eyelashes were stuck together, wet and slightly frozen.

He shakily inhaled and responded, “Can I come in? It's kinda cold out here.” Jonathan nodded and let Chris inside, closing the door behind him.

The two were silent for a minute, Penny lurking a few feet away from them, then Jonathan said, “So... how did you know find where I live?”

“I asked Kirsten.” Chris looked around, back and forth between Penny and Jonathan, and nervously rubbed his arm. “Would it be all right if I stayed with you guys for while? My, um... my parents kicked me out.”

“Your parents kicked you out?”

“They found out about... us,” Chris lowered his voice and glanced at Penny. “And I told them about Kirsten. They gave me, like, two minutes to get stuff together, then told me to leave.” Jonathan hadn't noticed until then that Chris was sporting a rather hefty-looking backpack.

Jonathan pitied Chris for a few moments, then turned to his mother. “Can Chris stay with us?” Penny looked contemplative, but she firmly nodded. Jonathan smiled a little and turned back to Chris. “Come on, I'll bring you up to the guest room, and you can throw your stuff in there.”

Chris followed Jonathan up the stairs and down to a room at the end of the hall. Jonathan held the door open for Chris, and he slowly walked inside. The room was nice enough, not that he really cared. He just needed a place to sleep. It was bad enough that he'd walked all the way from his house, some forty-odd minutes in the cold, having to worry about being homeless just made things a thousand times worse. He was good now, though, and warm.

He was just staring with his hand clamped onto his backpack, and he hadn't realized until he felt Jonathan's hand on his shoulder that he'd started to cry. Again. It was a little embarrassing, but he couldn't stop it. It wasn't like he hadn't already been embarrassed earlier, anyway.

“How do I even still have water in my body?” Chris tried to laugh, wiping his cheeks dry. “This is all I've been doing all day.” Jonathan sighed, suppressing his urge to hold Chris, and suggested that they return downstairs.

They settled in the living room, both Chris and Jonathan sitting on the couch, and Penny watched them from the doorway. Neither of them said anything, the just sat and stared at each other and at various objects around the room. Eventually, she sat down, and started talking to Chris. She asked him basic, simple things about himself, and the entire time Jonathan was hiding his face. She didn't express it, but Jonathan just felt like Penny was a little weirded out.

She had to leave once the pizza arrived, and she ushered it into the kitchen to prepare a few plates. The silence reentered the room, save for a few sniffs from Chris.

It was Jonathan who finally spoke, “Sorry about earlier. I realize that it was a little cruel to do it that way, but I felt like it was something I had to do.”

Chris turned to Jonathan, and his voice whined as he said, “Why? Yesterday, we were- Everything was fine.” Jonathan looked back at him as if to say that there was nothing else he could have done. “It's my fault, isn't it?” Jonathan took a deep breath.

“Kinda, but that's also part of the problem,” he answered.

“What is?”

“You're so arrogant, Chris. Even when you're trying to be mindful of other people, it's always about you.” Jonathan shrugged and quietly said, “I think that's something that you need to change.”

After a moment's silence, Chris wheezed, “Will you help me change?” The look on Chris's face was so pitiful and disheartening.

“Yeah, I will. And we can be friends if you want, but nothing more.” Chris nodded, but he frowned a bit as he did so.

“So, you don't even love me anymore.” It looked painful for Jonathan to do so, but he shook his head firmly. Chris deeply inhaled and inquired, “Did you ever actually love me?”

Jonathan paused for a moment to think, then decisively said, “No.” He didn't say it because it was true, because it wasn't true, not at all; he said it because it was what Chris needed to hear. Although, the more he thought about it, and the more time he spent talking to Chris, the more he began to believe that maybe they hadn't both felt the same kind of love.

Chris was staring in the same spacey way that had become slightly normal for him over the past few days. He wasn't as unconscious, though, and he quietly said, “Jonathan, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” Chris took a deep breath and continued to stare across the room.

“When we were together, was it weird for you... you know, that we're both boys?”

Jonathan twisted his mouth and nodded a little. “At first, yeah, but I got used to it after a while.” Chris turned his head down to look at his hands resting in his lap.

“I thought about it all the time. Whenever we were together, I'd think, He's a boy, he's a boy. But it was never weird for me. Then whenever I was with a girl...” Chris paused, watched as Jonathan winced a little, “I'd be like, She's a girl, she's a girl... and that was weird for me.” Chris looked at Jonathan with frightened eyes, and Jonathan stared at him for a few moments before he understood. He actually couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it earlier, as it explained quite a lot.

“Oh.” Chris raised his eyebrows and his near-tears look returned. He buried his face in his frustrated hands, and shoved his fingers into his curly mop of hair.

“Chris?” Penny had been in the other room still, but she seemed to have abandoned her task of getting the pizza, and walked over to the boys, sitting down in the armchair nearest Chris. As she sat, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. “I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing... Chris, there's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Chris raised his eyes to Penny, wanting desperately to believe her. He let his hands fall into his lap as he asked, “There isn't?”

“No,” she said. “Well, people aren't going to like it, that's for sure, but if that's who you are, then you shouldn't be afraid. You shouldn't be afraid of being you.”

“But my parents... they already kicked me out just because they found out about Jon... if they take me back-” Chris's eyes bulged and he freaked, “They will take me back, right?”

“I think they will,” Penny calmly replied. Chris settled a little, but he sighed heavily.

“I'm expected to marry, to have children, raise the perfect family...” His voice was shaking, and it only got worse as he cried, “How am I going to tell them that I don't like girls?”

Penny looked thoughtfully for a moment, then replied, “It won't be easy, I'm sure. It probably won't be easy for your parents to hear, either. But don't be afraid to tell them.”

“What if they hate it... or hate me... What if they kick me out again?”

“You're always welcome here.”

“All right, so, what, then? I just go up to them and say, 'Hey, mum. Dad. Guess what? I'm...'” Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly opened them again. He opened his mouth, but as many times as he tried, nothing came out. He looked over to Jonathan, trying to find some confidence. He saw the green eyes stare at him and somehow the words just flowed from his vocal chords.“I'm gay... Oh, wow.”

“It feels better to say it, doesn't it?” Penny asked.

“It's scary. Like, it's real now. This thing that I've...” Chris airily laughed, “You know, it was so frustrating, going on all those dates for my parents, and every single time thinking that I'm never going to find the right girl. Now I know why, and it's not any less frustrating!”

“Chris?” Chris looked up to Jonathan, and Jonathan continued, “It's OK.” Chris felt a bit of his heavy load lighten as he gained Jonathan's acceptance, and he smiled until he remembered that Jonathan didn't return his feelings anymore. Then a sad sort of silence fell between the two boys, and Penny decided to chime in after a bit.

“Jonathan, you could have told me about you two, you know,” she said. “I would have understood, at least. I can't believe you hid something like this from me.”

Jonathan shrugged, “Well, I hid it from everyone... except for Chris, of course.” Chris was already looking at Jonathan when Jonathan turned his head. “I never hid anything from you, because you were the only thing I ever had to hide.” Chris's face fell, plagued with sadness.

“I hid everything from you... Jonathan.” Chris sweetly gazed at Jonathan with teary and regretful blue eyes and said, “I'm sorry.”

Chapter Eleven

Chris picked at the fuzz that was clinging to his charcoal pants. He was sitting huddled up against Jonathan, since it was a little cold, though not as cold as it was in the mornings. With nothing else to do, Jonathan quietly watched Chris. After a minute or two, Chris stopped and looked up at Jonathan.

“I appreciate what you did for me yesterday,” Chris quietly said, “standing up to Devon like that.” He wanted to hold Jonathan's hand, but the wrist wrap prevented him from doing so. Instead, he rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. “He's scary.”

“He's insane,” Jonathan added, wrapping his arm around Chris. Chris relaxed under Jonathan's touch, and tried to sink deeper into Jonathan. “His parents sent him away to get help, though.”

“I hope nothing like that happens to me,” Chris hoarsely replied, fidgeting with his hands. Jonathan looked at him and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Chris stalled for a moment, tensing a little, then quickly said, “Uh... going crazy. I'd hate to be completely bonkers like that.”

“Why do you think you'd go crazy?” Jonathan, quite oblivious, laughed. He reached his hand up and gently stroked Chris's hair.

“Well, you never know,” Chris shrugged. “I mean, did you ever think Devon would go crazy like that?”

“Hmm, good point... I told him about us, by the way.” Chris lifted his head up and looked at Jonathan with scared eyes. Jonathan moved his arm down to Chris's back.

“Why would you do that?” Chris croaked. There was no anger in his voice, just fear, which both relieved and puzzled Jonathan.

“Because I trust him. And because he's gone now, anyway, so if he tells anyone, there's not much that'll be done about it.”

“Oh, well, I guess if you trust him, then he's all right...” Chris, defeated yet complacent, stared at Jonathan's bruised face. The purple hue around his eye was quite disheartening. “I love you, Jonathan,” Chris said, and before Jonathan could respond, he swiftly jumped onto his feet and held his hand out. “Come on.”

“Why?” Jonathan asked, but he grabbed Chris's hand anyway and stood up. Chris placed his wrist-wrapped hand on the small of Jonathan's back and pulled him forward.

“Because it's easier to do this standing up,” Chris whispered. He leaned his lips into Jonathan's, and stuck his free hand inside of Jonathan's jacket, resting it gently on the other boy's side. “I love you,” he breathed into Jonathan's ear.

“You already said that,” Jonathan replied with a soft laugh.

“Uh huh, and I could say it a thousand times more and I would still mean it,” Chris said. He took a big breath, then rattled off, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” ending it with a delicate kiss on Jonathan's cheek.

“That was nowhere near a thousand,” Jonathan said in a disappointed voice, though with a hint of jest.

“No, but it's still true.” Chris smiled wide, and he blushed a little as he continued, “And I'm... I'm a lot happier around you, Jonathan, did you know that? Because I feel like I can be myself.”

“Really?” Jonathan asked in honest disbelief. Chris lowered his eyebrows, waiting for Jonathan to clarify as to why he was skeptical. “I mean, I know I don't usually see you otherwise, but you don't seem all that different around everyone else.”

“Well, I don't know, I just feel like I have to act around other people.” Chris stared off for a brief moment, and Jonathan got the sense that Chris was struggling to say something. But Chris merely shook his head back to the present and said, “Whatever. Listen, Jonathan, you're being quite cheeky today.”

“Am I?” Jonathan antagonized Chris. But Jonathan hadn't given Chris enough credit, and Chris, knowing exactly that it was one of Jonathan's weaknesses, moved his hand to the middle of Jonathan's abdomen and circled his thumb around. Jonathan let out a stimulated gasp, and Chris grinned smugly.

“Yes. Now, less lip, more tongue.” Jonathan began to laugh, but didn't have much time before he found himself complying with Chris's demand. Chris found himself filled with the strong desire to move his hand a little further down than its current resting place, but a sort of panic held him back. He tried to tell himself that it was absurd, but he just couldn't step out of the fear.

Eventually, they both came up for air, and Jonathan breathlessly said, “I love you, too, Chris, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know that,” Chris laughed as if Jonathan's question was completely ridiculous. He finally moved his hand, but only to brush Jonathan's cheek. “You're a very handsome boy, even with that awful-looking eye. Painful awful, I mean,” Chris said, “but I'd love to sit and stare at you all day.”

“Well, thanks,” Jonathan replied, setting his hand on Chris's hip. Chris flinched a little, but he was smiling widely as he looked at Jonathan. “You're not so bad yourself.”

“Of course,” Chris gently laughed. Then, still smiling, he tilted his head a little. “Have you ever had a girlfriend, Jonathan?”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Chris rested his one hand on the crook of Jonathan's shoulder, then tried to position his other hand on the opposite shoulder so that the wrist wrap wouldn't be too much of a bother. He gave a contented sigh and gracefully blinked at Jonathan. “People don't call girls handsome, do they?”

It took Jonathan a moment to answer, since Chris's question seemed to have come out of nowhere. “Uh, I don't believe girls are ever referred to as handsome, no.” Chris nodded, and carried his eyes up as if he was thinking about something.

“I thought not. Girls are referred to as... beautiful, or pretty. But I think boys could be pretty. Certainly gorgeous...” Chris stared at the ground with big eyes, then continued, “For boys or girls, of course.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jonathan cautiously said. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Chris's ramblings. Chris caught sight of Jonathan's confusion, and tried to clarify with what Jonathan thought might not have been a real answer to his unasked question.

“It's good to know these things, isn't it?” Chris explained.

“Sure, it is.” Jonathan closely examined the other boy, not actually looking for anything in particular. He did find something, a little unexpectedly. Not surprisingly, though, because he always felt a bit weak when Chris looked at him with those big, blue eyes. And they were like the strongest magnets in the world; it was almost physically impossible to look away. “Chris, I think I'd say you're gorgeous.”

Chris's smile widened, if that was even possible. “Yeah? But I'm the only boy you'd call gorgeous, right?”

“Definitely,” Jonathan immediately answered, and at first it looked as though Chris was disappointed. He smiled again in a second, though, bright like always.

“Good.”

Chris didn't really space out much after that. Not for the rest of that afternoon, at least. He was incredibly concentrated on being with Jonathan, and making the most of the moments they had together. He still couldn't get past that fear, though, that tiny little speck of fear that held him back, but he knew he would get over it in time. In time he could get used to it, get used to the fear, and eventually it would be like it wasn't even there. Absolutely normal, and Chris would be absolutely normal. He was normal, anyway; it's not like there was that big of a difference between him and the other boys.

The furthest his courage took him was to walk with Jonathan as they both left, just until they reached the corner of the building. He made sure he was walking on the proper side so that he could hold Jonathan's hand. Before they parted ways, Chris stopped Jonathan and sweetly kissed him.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” Chris cooed. He walked away, and the grin that had been plastered on his face for the past few hours began to fade as he remembered what he was walking towards. He closed his eyes for a little bit every now and then on spots of the sidewalk where he was sure he wouldn't run into anyone or thing, thinking of Jonathan and how nice it was to be with him. And when he was sure that with eyes closed he'd nearly kill himself by smashing into stagnant objects, he'd just drift off into the lovely daydream world he'd created for himself. Mostly he spent his dream world time being with Jonathan.

Jonathan was much more conscious on his way home. He didn't drift off into another world, rather he watched everything that passed him by, or that he passed by, and tried to take in as much of it as he could. It was painfully cold outside, and while the thick lining of his jacket kept him moderately warm, his face was left bare. It pinked with the blustering air, and Jonathan hoped that his mother would soon take up driving again so he wouldn't freeze to death.

The warm air pounded him as he closed the front door, and for a second it was more painful than the cold. His body conformed with it quickly, though, and it became this sensational rush toasting him and returning his cheeks to a normal peachy color. He stood in the hallway for a little while, enjoying the ability to feel his nose again, and it never occurred to him that Penny was in the other room. Then he heard her move around, and it startled him at first, but he soon realized what the sound was.

“Hey, mum!” he shouted, still warming up in the hallway. Penny poked her head around the corner, a rather worried look dancing upon her wrinkled face.

“Jonathan, what are you doing home so late?” she calmly asked, stepping forward towards her son. The closer she got, the more prevalent the bags under her eyes became. Jonathan innocently looked up at her, and was saddened by what he saw. Penny hardly even looked like his mother anymore.

“You know me, mum, I like to walk around a lot.” She didn't seem to believe him, but she didn't really fight much, either.

“In the cold?”

“It's not like I have a ride home or anything,” Jonathan muttered. Penny lowered her head, ashamed, though Jonathan hadn't meant for his words to sound so cruel.

“Would you like some tea?” she kindly asked. “It'll help to warm you.” Jonathan nodded, even though he wasn't sure Penny would see him.

“Yeah, thanks.” Penny glanced at Jonathan once more with defeated eyes, then turned and entered the kitchen. Jonathan kicked off his shoes and left them by the door, then followed his mother. It seemed as though she had sensed his imminent return, and had already heated up a kettle before he even walked through the door. She poured him a cup, and one for herself, then carried them to the table, where Jonathan was seated.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” she said, placing one of the steaming cups in front of Jonathan. He thanked her and carefully held it in between his hands. The hot ceramic nearly burned him, but he really, really wanted to be warm. Penny sat down opposite Jonathan, and just stared into her cup.

“Mum, how was your day?” Penny lifted her eyes with a bit of surprise. She gazed around the room for a bit, trying to think of something to say.

“It was as it usually is, I suppose. I did some cleaning. I made some tea.” She connected her eyes with Jonathan's, and Jonathan thought he could see a bit of agony swirling behind them. “Nothing new.”

“Oh,” he plainly said. “My day wasn't that exciting, either.”

Jonathan decided that his tea had enough time to cool down by this point, and so he ventured a sip as his mother asked, “Were you with Devon earlier?”

“Uh, no, actually,” Jonathan replied, setting the cup back down on the table. He had been wrong in thinking that it wasn't too hot to drink, and now his tongue felt really smooth and stinging. “He kinda... Well, he has some anger issues, and so he's gone now. To fix those issues. His parents sent him away. Hopefully he'll get better.” The silence was too awkward for Jonathan, and so he continued to ramble on until his mother finally spoke up, which was quite some time later.

“Anger issues,” she quietly repeated. “Is that what happened to your eye, then?” Jonathan unconsciously raised a hand to his bruised eye. He had almost forgotten about it.

“Uh, yeah.” Jonathan let his hand fall, and sighed as he looked at his mother. “Mum, what's happened to us?”

Penny scrunched her eyebrows and replied, “What do you mean?”

“Well, it's just that... like, I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've talked in a week. More than just a few words. And even then, this isn't much of a conversation.”

“Right. It's just been so hard,” Penny stammered, her baggy eyes welling with tears. In order to hinder any sort of embarrassment, she buried her face in her hands. It was hardly any use, though, and Jonathan could see a few drops splash down from her hands and into the untouched cup of tea below.

“You really did love him, didn't you?” Jonathan asked in a low voice. Penny wiped her eyes dry and nodded.

“Yes, definitely. Jonathan, I know you don't understand why, but,” Penny reached across the table and grabbed Jonathan's hand, “you're young still. You're only a boy, I don't expect you to know much about love.” Jonathan looked hard at his mother, and suddenly he began to feel that she was right.

“Then tell me,” he said. He wanted to have an actual talk with Penny, since he couldn't remember a time in his life when they had actually had one that went somewhere.

“I know it sounds horrible to say this, but... Jonathan, it's all my fault.” Jonathan opened his mouth in objection, but Penny raised her hand to silence him. “Before you say anything, let me explain. You see... well, love is a complicated sort of thing. In movies and books and stuff, they always make it seem so glamorous. You'll always fall in love with the perfect person.”

“That's not how it really is,” Jonathan stated for her, and she shook her head.

“There is no such thing as perfect, Jonathan,” Penny continued. “No one is even close to perfect. But being in love is being able to see past those imperfections and appreciate someone for the good in them. It's by no means easy, and I think that's why not very many people know what true love is.”

“So, you're saying that if someone is a jerk to you, but you can forget about that because they have some nicer qualities, then that's love?” Jonathan asked in an almost bitter tone. Yet, something was stirring in the back of his mind.

“It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But yes. That's where it gets tricky, though.” Penny stared down at her tea, which was still brimming, and sighed discontentedly. “He had a problem, it wasn't hard to see. I noticed it, you noticed it, everyone noticed it. He tried to get help. He wanted to get help. It worked... and for quite a long time.”

“Sober for three years,” Jonathan said.

“Yep. It was great. Sure, he was still a little rough around the edges, but that was just something to admire. His unwillingness to back down and listen to other people. It helped him to get that big promotion, which paid for the house, your school. Everything.” Penny paused for a moment, and shrugged indifferently. “It didn't last forever. Hardly anything does.”

Jonathan continued to stare, waiting for things to become clear, because this thing was still wriggling to life in his head, but it wasn't quite there. “I still don't get how this is your fault.”

“When you love someone you forget about the bad stuff,” Penny said- unhelpfully, at least to Jonathan. They'd already gone over that, and Jonathan felt like he was losing his patience, because he just wanted to understand what was going on. “So there's no choice but to let the bad stuff slide. Do you know how damaging that is?”

Finally, a point had been made, but Jonathan was still a bit fuzzy. “No.”

“If you let someone get away with all of their bad habits it only hurts everyone involved. Maybe not at first, maybe not even noticeably, but it does.” Penny pushed away the cup and clasped her hands on the table. She was holding on so tight that her fingers turned white rather quickly. “And that's why it's my fault. Do you see now?”

“Kinda,” Jonathan said, which was nearly a lie. The wriggling, stirring thing had seemed to grow legs, but it was still crawling around.

“If you love someone, you should want them to be the best they can. But loving them so much that you don't really pay attention to anything but the good parts holds them back. Do you understand?” Her fingers were still very white, and the tears were returning to her eyes. “I loved him, I did, but I didn't do it right. I couldn't help him.”

“Mum, you can't-”

“No, Jonathan. I can.” Penny leaned forward to get as close to her son as she could. Her voice started to shake, but she carried on regardless. “When you do love someone, make sure that you help them. Anyway you can. If they need to change, help them change. For good, don't just do it because you don't like one little thing about them. But if it's something that could hurt them, don't just sit there and let it happen. Help.” Penny sat back and tried to stop the tears that were begging to be released from their ocular prison.

But Jonathan just stared. His brain was soaking in the words like a dry sponge, and they replayed over and over on some sort of continuous loop. Every time they changed, though, until they were no longer Penny's words. They were new words. Familiar words, though, but where had he heard them before?

I appreciate what you did for me. They were so familiar, almost as if he'd said them himself. I would hate for you to be too jealous to love me. He didn't say that. Did he? My condolences. No, it definitely wasn't him. I can't have you here when she comes. The answer was right there, why couldn't he get it?

This is all my fault. I should have thought about how jealous it would make you. That voice. So sweet, and so familiar. You didn't purposely come looking for me, did you? Almost...

You know me, Jon. Everyone loves me.

“Of course.” Jonathan hardly recognized that it was his voice saying that. It wasn't until Penny looked up that he realized.

“Of course?” she repeated. Jonathan shook himself back to the reality of the kitchen table. He took a look at his eye in the horrible refection that the tea cup provided. It did look awful.

“Thank you for the advice, mum,” Jonathan replied, and he stood up. He walked over to Penny and placed his hand on her shoulder. “But don't blame yourself, because that won't do you any good, either.” She briefly laid her hand on top of his, silently thanking him. When she let go, he took his hand back, too, and left the kitchen intending to go up to his own room.

Not all change is bad. That doesn't make it easy. Jonathan fell onto his bed and sighed. He looked over at his lamp, the plug still dangling off the side of the table. What did he even need that lamp for, anyway? He hadn't used it in, like, a month.

He stared at it for a couple of minutes. It was a lamp that he'd had since he was a little kid. His mother probably bought it for one of his birthdays or a Christmas. Or maybe one of his other, more distant relatives had given it to him. Either way, he didn't use it anymore. It just sat there, taking up space.

Things were changing. Well, no, they weren't; he had to initiate the change. So, the first step would be to get rid of this lamp.

Jonathan swiftly swung his legs over the side of his bed, and grabbed the lamp off the table. He walked over to his window and heaved it open. Once the pane was locked in place he let go of the lamp, watching it as it made its fatal way to the ground. It smashed the instant it even scratched the surface of the earth below Jonathan's window. He realized that it wasn't the best way to dispose of the lamp, but he didn't care. It felt good.

Much better than what else he knew he'd have to do.

Chapter Ten

It was kinda cold, he wasn't gonna lie. Jonathan strolled down the sidewalk, hands deep in his jacket pockets and chin buried under the collar. Every step he took sent cold air whooshing past his face, but it wasn't like he could stop. There was no other way for him to get to school.

Three minutes into his now-habitual journey to school, he passed by a house with a familiar blue door. Devon was standing by his mother and her car, bouncing from foot to foot in order to warm himself. Jonathan was too busy hiding his face from the cold to notice them, but Devon didn't miss out on seeing Jonathan.

“Jon!” Devon exclaimed, running to his friend. Jonathan looked up and stopped.“What are you doing?”

“Walking to school,” Jonathan innocently replied, and he shrugged back into the warmth of his jacket.

Devon scrunched up his nose and asked, “Why?”

“Devon, are you coming?” his mother called. Devon waved his hand without looking back, and she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Because my mum won't drive anywhere anymore.”

“Oh.” Devon spun around and called to his mother, “Mum, I'm walking with Jon!” She looked at him like he was crazy, but just shrugged and got into the car without saying anything. When he spun back to Jonathan, he also looked at Devon like he was crazy. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jonathan answered. He nodded in the direction that he'd been walking and said, “Let's get going then.”

They began to move their feet, and the sidewalk whirled by beneath them, silently and without even a speck of protest. A few minutes along the way, an icy chill ran it's way down Devon's back, and he twitched and groaned, “It's so cold.”

“Yeah, it is. But you didn't have to walk with me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Devon sassed, mimicking Jonathan's hiding-in-my-jacket appearance, “I just thought I'd walk with you because we haven't hung out in ages.”

“Well, you've been grounded for so long,” Jonathan defended. “I never even see you outside of school.”

“I'm not grounded anymore. And I went to your house yesterday, but you weren't there.”

“Seriously? When?”

“A bit after school,” Devon answered. “I was at home, but Kirsten was giving me a hard time about... something or other. I went to your house to see you, but no one answered.”

“Oh, right. I was walking around town,” Jonathan lied, and quickly coughed, though he realized it was a bit conspicuous. Devon hadn't noticed it, fortunately; he appeared to be deep in thought. “So, you guys had, like, a fight or something?”

“Huh? Oh, well, it wasn't so much of a fight, she was just getting on my nerves.” Devon took a deep breath, but he could still feel something building inside of him. “She does that a lot, though, and sometimes I just wanna...”

Devon visibly clenched his jaw, which provoked Jonathan to ask, “Devon, is there something, like, really bothering you? Do you want to talk...?”

“No, I'm fine,” Devon replied, but a fierceness was large in his tone.

“All right. It's just that yesterday I talked to Kirsten, and she-”

“Yeah, well, Kirsten's pretty stupid sometimes,” Devon snapped, and Jonathan looked at him with a great amount of fear shooting through his eyes. “It doesn't take a genius not to get pregnant.”

Jonathan wasn't sure how to respond to Devon's rashness, and Devon was too riled up to say anything else, so the pair walked the rest of the stretch in silence. By the time they got to the school, the only boys still outside were in a group gathered by the door. Jonathan watched them, but as he walked by, Chris kept his head down. He wasn't even talking to any of the other boys. They were talking to him, but it was obvious that he wasn't fully there.

In the few hours that passed between the time they split to go to homeroom and the time they met up for lunch, Devon had not seemed to calm down too much, or so Jonathan thought. Even as he stuck his fork into the mashed potatoes on his tray, Devon's anger was quite apparent.

“Mashed potatoes aren't alive, you know. You can't kill them,” Jonathan said in an attempt to lighten the mood. He should have known that it wouldn't work.

Devon shot him a nasty look and said, “You want me to talk? Fine. How about the fact that I'm not grounded, but my parents still won't let me do anything, thanks to Kirsten? Does that seem fair to you?”

“Devon, I was kidding, you don't have to get-”

“I mean, she's the one who went and got herself pregnant, I don't see why I should be punished for it.” Devon stabbed his fork into the mountain of mashed potatoes, nearly splattering them all over the place. He glared at the food, then decided he no longer wanted it. He quickly scanned the cafeteria scattered with boys, some walking, some sitting, and muttered, “I'll be back.”

Devon stood up, carrying his tray, and began to walk away when a spaced-out Chris bumped into him and exclaimed, “Oh!” Devon didn't have such a great hold on the tray, so the bump from Chris sent it crashing to the ground.

As Chris backed away, Devon spat at him, “Watch where you're going next time.” Chris nodded.

“Of course. Excuse m-” Chris tried to walk around Devon, but was stopped by the presence of Devon's hand on his chest.

“Of course? You think you're better than me, don't you? You think you're better than everyone.” Chris stared at him, wondering what the hell was going on, and Devon just kept getting threateningly closer. “But I'll bet you've made more mistakes than anyone else in this room.”

“I-I, uh...”

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Devon sneered.

Chris tried to back away, and was helped with a shove from Devon. As Chris regained his composure, he said, “Listen, Devon, I told you how I feel about... what I did.”

“What, that you regret it? A lot of good that does.”

“It's not like I wanted any of this to happen! I didn't even want to...” Chris looked like he was going to throw up- or cry- but Devon didn't pay it any attention. The confession that Chris was never even interested in Kirsten pissed Devon off so much that he grabbed Chris's wrist, squeezing it with so much effort that Chris gasped in pain.

Through teeth clenched in fury, Devon gritted, “If you didn't want to, then why did you do it?”

Chris started to panic, and he was heaving breaths as he said, “Your- your sister's very convincing.” Devon wasn't pleased with this answer, so he twisted his arm, slowly bending Chris's wrist back with it. Chris whimpered, but didn't fight back; he was honestly too afraid. Someone decided to fight, though, and Devon felt a hand fiercely smack his arm for attention.

“Devon, stop it! He didn't do anything to you, he didn't hit you or anything. Have some control over yourself!” Jonathan yelled. Devon shot him a look and flared his nostrils.

“Control?! You wanna see control?” Devon raised his free hand, left it in the air for a fraction of a second. Jonathan blinked, and the next thing he knew Devon's hand was back at his side once more, the back of his hand fresh with the red of collision. Jonathan turned his head. A giant blotch of red seeped and colored Chris's cheek.

“DEVON!” Jonathan bellowed, forcefully pushing Devon backwards and releasing his hold on Chris. Devon retaliated by throwing his fist into Jonathan's face.

Then everything slowed down. Jonathan's vision blurred; Devon had hit him mostly in the eye. Devon stood frozen, stunned by his own aggressiveness. He looked down at his hands, breath shaking, then looked back up at Jonathan.

“Jon,” he said as an authoritative hand grabbed his shoulder, and just before Jonathan passed out, he cried, “I need help.”

*

When he came to, Jonathan opened his eyes to a view of the ceiling of the nurse's office. He was laying on some sort of cot, and it soon became apparent that only one of his eyes was open. The other was being smothered by an extremely cold ice pack. He grabbed the pack with his hand and sat up.

He must not have been out for very long, because sitting in a chair by the door was Chris. The nurse seemed to be in some other room, and Chris was waiting patiently for her return. He'd only been slapped, so surely the nurse wouldn't keep him in there for an extended period of time.

Chris was staring down at the floor, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair. That's when Jonathan noticed a dark gray wrist wrap around Chris's wrist. He'd forgotten about Chris's wrist, but judging by the wrap, it was probably sprained. So, maybe he actually had been there for a while.

Chris sighed and slowly began to look around the room. When his eyes caught sight of Jonathan, a bright grin stretched from one ear to the other. He looked as though he was about to say something, when suddenly the door opened and the nurse walked in.

“All right, Christopher, you may leave now,” she said as she walked over to her desk, a mess of paperwork in her hand. She grabbed a pen and marked something on the top sheet, and Chris held his hand to his heart before he left. The nurse quickly glided over to Jonathan as the door shut, and she demanded that he lower the ice pack so she could get a good look. “Yeah, you're gonna have a nasty bruise.”

“Great,” Jonathan lamented. The nurse raised one eyebrow in return, as if to say that that was just the way things were.

“Keep that ice pack on for an hour or so. You can go back to class, but I'd like for you to stop by again before you leave school today.”

Jonathan nodded, and within a minute or so he was out the door and into the empty hallway. He realized how weird he must look holding an ice pack up to his eye, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. He'd probably look weirder with a black eye, anyway.

News spread like wildfire in that school, and it seemed like everyone had heard about the fight even before it was over. Not that it was much of a fight, anyway, but even the tiniest bit of drama was wondrous to the boys whose lives were otherwise astonishingly empty and plain.

It seemed like everyone had chosen Jonathan to be the hero, because even though he was the one who ended up being injured the most, Devon was just totally out of his mind, and Chris hadn't put up a fight at all. And so, for one tiny bit of a day, Jonathan's name was all around the school. People actually knew who he was. Even though they hadn't known what he looked like before- now he was easily distinguishable by the black eye- almost every boy acknowledged him as he walked out of the school. It was as if he was some sort of celebrity to them. He couldn't say that he particularly liked the attention.

Penny was in the kitchen when Jonathan arrived home, much to his surprise. She was simply sitting at the table, staring across the room, but Jonathan was sure it was the first time he had seen her in days. She looked up at him as he walked in, and immediately stood up as she saw his bruised face.

“What happened?” she quietly asked.

“It's a long story,” Jonathan answered. “And I kinda don't feel like talking about it. I think I'm just gonna go lay down, if that's all right.”

“Yeah, that's fine,” she said. Her voice was so soft and sad, a sort of grief lingering behind every word she spoke, but there was also a very maternal light shining through her tone. “Just tell me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Jonathan left his mother in the kitchen and slugged his way up to his room. He collapsed on his bed as quickly as he could, and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he always did.

He didn't have anything to think about, though. It was as if he'd thought about everything so much over the past few weeks that his brain was just empty now. That, or maybe Devon's punch affected him more than he thought. The only thing he could think about was how badly his eye hurt. The pain was pretty much screaming at him, flamboyantly flailing its arms around, so it wasn't as though he could really ignore it. The pain was so boring, though, to think about, and so he found himself drifting off.

After his nap, which was long enough for the sun to turn everything a pinkish orange, he shifted a little in his bed, but not much. By the time he was done shifting, he'd only moved his head maybe about an inch across the pillow. His ears steadily tuned into the world around him, and he could hear his mother's voice speaking gently from downstairs. A minute or so later, footsteps were approaching, but Jonathan remained exactly where he was.

“Jon?” Devon was at the door, and he looked pretty calm, but Jonathan couldn't be entirely sure. He cautiously stepped into the room, after a welcoming grunt from Jonathan, and lamented the sight of his best friend. “How's your eye?”

Jonathan sat up. His eye, while only a bit swollen, was completely purple. And it hurt like hell. “How does it look?”

“I'm really sorry for flipping out on you like that,” Devon said. Jonathan sighed, and moved his legs so Devon could sit down. Devon did so, a horrible guilt rising in him all the while. “They're sending me away, you know.”

“Who's sending you? And where?”

“My parents. I'm not sure where exactly, but it's some... mental institution.” Devon stared with a maniacal glare in his eyes, then he started to laugh. “Jon, I'm crazy.” He looked to Jonathan, and his smile began to fade. Jonathan's head was down, disheartened by this news.

“You're my only real friend, you know that?” Jonathan quietly said.

“You're my best friend. Certainly the last person I would ever want to hurt, 'cause you're really nice, and you don't deserve it. But...” Devon sighed, “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Why were you so defensive?” Jonathan looked up at Devon. The answer was simple, but he didn't know if he should say it. Devon was his best friend, and he wasn't going to be around for much longer, so trust wasn't an issue. But he wasn't sure how Devon would react. “Because, I mean, it's not like you and Chris are even friends, right? I know I was acting really, really horrible, but I didn't think that you'd stand up to me like that, especially since I wasn't hurting you.”

“Devon, Chris...” Jonathan paused for a while, and chuckled at his inability to speak. “I don't know how to say this.”

“You're-you're not... right?” Devon asked, his voice a slight mixture of concern and confusion. Jonathan shook his head, and for a second or two Devon relaxed a bit.

“No, I'm not, but... well, Chris and I are sort of together.” Devon didn't respond, didn't even change his facial expression. In fact, his entire visage was just blank. Even his eyes had lost their lunacy. Jonathan wasn't sure what to make of this; Devon's lack of expression, while it may have seemed better than Devon going off the wall again, did not necessarily mean that he was handling it well.

“How long?” Devon croaked after what seemed like hours, though it had really only been a minute or two. Jonathan released the breath he'd been holding, glad that at least Devon was staying calm.

“A few months.”

“Months?!” Devon shrieked, but Jonathan noticed that his face had changed to something resembling concern. “So, you mean that when he and Kirsten... you two...?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan muttered.

“And I hit him.” Devon's eyes were scanning the air in front of him, invisible memories haunting his vision. “The first time... I could have killed him... Jon!” He forcefully grabbed Jonathan's shoulders, but he didn't mean any harm. “If I had known... I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, but I didn't want you to know, I didn't want anyone to know, so don't worry about it too much.” Devon stared for a few moments, then his face light up with realization.

“You stopped me,” he smiled, pointing at Jonathan. “You were trying to save him from me. That's sweet.” Jonathan laughed.

“You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would have,” Jonathan said. “Maybe you are crazy.”

“Oh, I'm definitely crazy. But I think that's a good thing, because I don't know how I'd have dealt with this before.” Devon frowned at the thought of his possible alternative behavior. “Am I the only one who knows?”

“I hope so, because I haven't told anyone else,” Jonathan replied.

“Cool. Well... I guess it's time for me to go home.” Devon stood up, and Jonathan soon followed. “And pack for the crazy house.”

“Good luck, man,” Jonathan muttered.

“I don't know when the next time I see you will be,” Devon said. He winced again at Jonathan's bruised face, and Jonathan hugged him. “Thank you for telling me. And your secret's safe with me. Not like I have anyone to tell, anyway.”

“Don't be gone long, yeah?” Jonathan said, patting Devon's back as he let go.

“Definitely. I mean, this place sucks as it is, but I can't imagine that wherever I'm going will be much better.” Devon sighed, “I'll miss you, Jon.”

“I'll miss you, too...Dev.” Devon chuckled and raised his hand in farewell.

“See ya.” Jonathan returned the hand motion, and sat back down on his bed as Devon disappeared. The sun was slipping away more and more by the minute, and Jonathan knew he should probably go downstairs for dinner, but he was still tired. So, he laid back down and closed his eyes, and he realized something: for the first time since his father died, something had changed. Quite a big change, too, since now Jonathan was practically friendless. Sure, there were still all those other kids he sometimes talked to in school, but he didn't like any of them, which he was assured of by the time he had to spend with them while Devon was suspended.

Steve and Crack were always quarreling, even if it was only in jest, Tom was always talking about things no one cared about, Spencer was still collecting stuff, and Matt was always making fun of everyone. He'd lean over to Jonathan and point to some random boy walking by, say something really nasty about him, and Jonathan would give a fake laugh like he was paying Matt any attention. In actuality, he was just silently praying for the day to end. Or for something really heavy to fall on them, so he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. Of course, he realized that was pretty cruel, so eventually he settled for the day ending.

Then the day would end, and he'd be happy until he realized that he'd have to go back again the next day. Seeing Chris after school helped, though as of late Chris seemed rather out of it. He was always staring off, thinking, but when he actually was focused on Jonathan, he was always smiling like mad. It was almost confusing, this weird mixture of actions, but Jonathan figured that if something really was wrong, Chris would talk to him about it.

Jonathan couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling and clasped his hands on his stomach. The ceiling tiles were the same, but soon nothing else would be. Something had actually changed, and Jonathan knew there would be some sort of domino effect. It was only a matter of time.

As the last remnants of daylight dawdled in the air, Penny called up to Jonathan for dinner. Hesitantly, he got out of bed and walked downstairs. At least he was still alive. Not all change is bad.

Chapter Nine

Devon was already starting to eat his lunch when Steve sat down beside him. Steve was quite wide-eyed and every movement he made seemed apprehensive. He didn't say a word, though, just went about his usual business. It was a good five minutes before Devon even noticed his irregular manner.

“Steve, what the hell?” Devon hollered. He was always a more straight-forward sort of person. Steve looked at him and tried to hide his disposition, though he did so rather poorly.

“What do you mean, 'what the hell'?” Steve asked. Devon blinked twice at him, then moved his arm so suddenly it caused Steve to flinch.

“I mean this,” Devon said, motioning to Steve. “You're acting weird.”

“No, I'm not acting weird at all,” Steve unconvincingly replied, still recovering from Devon's swinging arm.

“Yeah, OK,” Devon said, and he went back to eating his lunch. Steve continued to gawk at Devon, an action which Devon tried his hardest to ignore. Just as he was on the brink of cracking, Steve muttered something.

“I just heard something about you, is all.” Devon dropped the fork he was holding onto his tray, and exaggeratedly turned to Steve.

“What did you hear?” he demanded. Steve waited a few seconds before shrugging and rolling his eyes in an obvious manner. Devon leaned forward and angered his face up a bit to show Steve that he was serious. “What did you hear?”

Steve looked at him with slight concern, and even tipped backwards a little. “Well, I mean it wasn't anything bad about you.” Devon tensed his jaw, impatient for a real answer. “But someone did say something about your sister.”

Devon shot a cruel look at Jonathan, who was nowhere near paying attention. Devon cleared his throat. Nothing. He cleared his throat again. Still nothing. He repeated a few more times, progressively growing louder, until finally Jonathan's head sprung up.

“What?” Jonathan innocently asked.

“You didn't tell anyone about Kirsten, did you?”

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows and replied, “No, why would I tell anyone about Kirsten?” Devon hopelessly sighed and turned back to Steve. Steve shook his head at Devon.

“I don't remember who was talking about it, but they said she's...” Steve lowered his voice and whispered, “you know, pregnant. Is that true?”

“Why is it any of your business?” Devon snapped, and Steve's jaw dropped.

“It is true!” he gasped, and turned his head to the boy sitting next to Jonathan. “Crack, you were right.”

“I know,” Crack replied, as if Steve's suggestion that he may have been wrong was completely and utterly insane. “Did you think I was lying?”

“No,” Steve said, “I just didn't think his sister was slutty enough to get knocked up.” Steve quickly turned to Devon, who's face was already scarlet with anger. “What is she, anyway, ten?”

“She's thirteen,” Devon hissed through clenched teeth. “Why does everyone think she's ten?! And,” he spat, “she's not a slut, OK? She's just... I don't know, but she's not a slut.”

“OK, sor-”

“No, it's not OK,” Devon interrupted, and he shoved a finger into Steve's chest. “Don't you ever talk that way about my sister.”

“Devon, I'm sorry,” Steve said, and a tiny crack in his voice showed that he was honestly frightened. He glanced around, as several boys from surrounding tables were beginning to peer over at them. “Maybe calm down a bit, yeah?”

Devon sat back in his seat and tried to cool off. Jonathan was staring at him worriedly; as of late, Devon's anger had become quite a problem. It was subtle most of the time, but it had been steadily getting worse since Devon flipped out on Chris.

Jonathan opened his mouth to say something, but before the words could leave his mouth, someone who was bustling up to their table shouted, “Devon!” Devon turned to find Mason walking towards him. Mason wiggled his fingers at Devon, and Devon narrowed his eyes. “Hey!”

“What do you want, Helsby?” Devon jeered. Mason smugly lifted the corners of his mouth and leaned his elbows onto the table.

“Do you remember that girl?” he quietly asked. “The one who my parents introduced to us?”

“That Italian girl?” Mason nodded, and Devon reluctantly continued, “What about her?” Mason didn't answer, though, he merely raised one eyebrow. Devon threw him a look of confusion, but soon enough he found an answer. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” Mason laughed.

“You're lying.”

“Well,” Mason said, rolling his eyes, “maybe she didn't go as far as, say, your sister... but I got a lot farther than Chris did.”

Wanting to control his temper, Devon ignored the horribly unfair shot at his sister, and asked, “Chris was with her?” At this, Jonathan, though he had already been listening, opened his ears even more intently.

“Yeah, she was actually his date to my parents' party the other night. She wasn't having a good time, though, so I took over.” Mason grabbed the front of his blazer with both hands and held on pompously. “Let's just say that I'm,” Mason switched to what he thought sounded like a seductive woman's voice, “more man than Chris could ever be.”

Devon chuckled, even though Mason had begun to make awkward moaning sounds. “Did you tell Chris that? I'm sure he'd love it.”

“Eh, he didn't really seem all that interested in her,” Mason shrugged. “Plus, after I graciously pulled Emilia away from him, he ran off with Marina.”

“Do you think that was a good idea? I mean, he's got quite a reputation.” Mason chortled at Devon's statement, even though Devon was being quite serious. Devon just quickly looked over at Chris and shuddered. “He makes me sick, you know that?”

“Hey, man, there's no way all those rumors are true,” Mason said. “I don't think there are that many girls who would want to be near him long enough. And that's saying something, because he probably doesn't take that long at all.”

Mason threw back his head again, and this time Devon actually joined in, so the chortling became more of a howling that spread to the far corners of the cafeteria. Jonathan ached for the ability to say something, anything, to defend Chris, but he was forced to keep his mouth shut. Or, at least, he tried to keep his mouth shut.

“I thought you were his friend,” Jonathan quietly said. Mason spun to Jonathan, quite surprised, as he hadn't realized Jonathan's presence.

“Chris and I are... acquaintances, you could say,” Mason replied. “But we've never been friends.”

“Oh,” Jonathan replied, defeated, and he dropped out of the conversation there. Mason turned back to Devon, who, for a moment, was giving Jonathan a funny look.

“Anyway,” Mason said to Devon, “you're just jealous because you wish you'd even seen as many girls as that kid has apparently slept with.” Devon lifted his eyebrows as if to say that Mason had a point. Mason gave an odd sort of grunt, then left without saying another word. Devon didn't return to giving Jonathan the odd look he had given him before, but Jonathan knew that he had gone a bit too far. He couldn't help it though, and he certainly couldn't believe what he had just heard. Chris had told him the last time that he had to take a girl out, so why hadn't he mentioned anything this time?

Jonathan decided that the best way to find out would be to ask Chris directly, so that's exactly what he did. It was about twenty minutes after school had let out before they finally met at the old building. Chris was more chipper and upbeat than he usually was, it seemed, which was definitely a contrast to Jonathan's quiet and pensive state.

“Jonathan, did you know that no one's been in this building in 40 years?” Chris inquired. He was facing Jonathan, his hand resting on the side of the building and his legs folded beneath him. “Apparently they... What's wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan asked, looking up at Chris. Chris was dozily looking back at him, his bright blue eyes half-closed at the other boy.

“I mean, you're very quiet today and you look awfully sad,” Chris replied, reaching over and grabbing Jonathan's hand. “Why do you look so sad, Jonathan?”

“Oh. You didn't tell me you had a date the other night.” Jonathan looked down at his and Chris's intertwined fingers. “Were you planning to tell me?”

“No,” Chris honestly replied, though he sounded hesitant to do so. “I didn't think you'd want to hear it.”

“I guess you were right,” Jonathan sighed. Chris turned and stretched out his legs.

“Would you like to be informed next time?” Jonathan shrugged, but Chris could see the despair past the seeming indifference. With his free hand, he held on to the side of Jonathan's face by his ear, and pulled Jonathan towards him as he said, “Jonathan, all of these girls... they're trivial, you know that?”

“They are?” Jonathan replied, moderately reluctant to believe Chris.

“Jonathan, I swear to you, I will never want any girl as much as I want you.” Jonathan could feel his brain being slowly hypnotized by the blue eyes, through which a sudden fear quickly flashed, then soon vanished. “That's good enough, yeah? My word is good enough?”

Jonathan allowed himself to stare for a moment longer before quietly answering, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Chris hummed, gently stroking his thumb against Jonathan's cheek, “because I would hate for you to be too jealous to love me.”

Jonathan lightly laughed as he said, “That's such a ridiculous thing for you to say.”

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“I would only be jealous if I loved you.”

“Of course.” Chris grinned a cheesy smile and kissed Jonathan. He slowly brought his hand down to rest on Jonathan's shoulder. When his lips broke away, he seemed to sink into himself. “How long can we be together today, Jon?” Chris asked, staring down at his fidgeting hands.

“I don't think my mum will care when I get back, if she even notices I'm not there.” Chris curved his eyes up to Jonathan, trying to suppress the stock of passion waiting to burst from his heart and bleed all over the other boy. Despite his nervousness, he smiled, because he really couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be spending his time with.

“I love you, Jon,” Chris breathed with so much life that Jonathan was slightly bewildered. Part of it was that he seemed to say it so suddenly, but the honesty behind it was unmistakable.

“I love you, too,” Jonathan smiled back, and Chris slid over until he and Jonathan were squished together.

“I hated that party, by the way,” Chris mentioned. “The Helsby one. It was awful.”

“That Mason kid stole your date?” Jonathan laughed, and Chris nodded.

“Yeah... at least I didn't have sex with anyone this time.” Chris ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair, and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit. He kept his head down, and within a few moments he felt Jonathan's hand on his back. What a sweet boy.

It took a few minutes, but Chris finally overcame his uneasiness. He took a deep breath and looked up at Jonathan, tentatively bringing himself back into the moment. Jonathan gave a tiny smile and took his hand back.

“What was it like... having sex with a girl?” Jonathan inquired, and Chris felt his anxiety rush back.

“Jon!”

“Right,” Jonathan shook his head, “sorry. Sorry, I just.. it's kinda hard, I guess, going to an all boys school... but at least I've got you.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, with only a hint of fluster, “we've got each other.” Chris boldly moved his hand, letting it rest on Jonathan's thigh. He watched a quick, sharp intake of oxygen pass into Jonathan's lungs, and for a second he was worried that it had been the wrong thing to do. But Jonathan didn't do or say anything, so Chris's hand laid awkwardly for a while. “Oh, fuck it,” he eventually exclaimed, and, letting his emotions take over, he lifted himself off the ground, swung his leg over Jonathan's, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Jonathan hadn't expected this, so at first he was a bit shocked, but soon he gave in and went along with Chris's audacity.

While his mouth was busy consuming Jonathan's, Chris's hands ran wildly over the other boy's torso. Jonathan wasn't sure that Chris was ever going to stop, not that he minded entirely. But eventually Chris did stop, quite abruptly, and he slowly backed away from Jonathan.

“I don't think we should go any farther than that,” Chris said, and he sounded frightened like a child in the dark.

“That's fine,” Jonathan gawkily replied. “I wasn't really expecting us to.”

Chris brought his knees to his chest and stared at Jonathan. His blue eyes pierced through Jonathan as he thought, pondering their relationship. “Jon, we don't really know much about each other, do we?”

Jonathan sat silent for a moment, then replied, “You said you have an older brother?”

“I have two older brothers, actually. They're both off on their own now... married... children...” Chris flinched as his voice trailed away, leaving Jonathan to fill in the emptiness.

“Oh. I'm an only child.”

Chris halfheartedly smiled and said, “Lucky you. Uh,” his voice shrilled, and he stood up and dusted his hands nervously. “I think my mom is probably expecting me home for dinner soon, so...”

“You're leaving, then?” Jonathan pushed himself off the ground. He was worried; Chris was acting really strange, and almost distant. Chris absentmindedly nodded, then wrapped his arms around Jonathan. He was overcome with a rush of emotion that was in no way new to him, yet it completely overwhelmed him.

“Oh, God.”

“What?” Jonathan looked at Chris alertly. Chris simply averted his eyes and shook his head.

“It's nothing. Bye, Jon.” With that, Chris walked away. Jonathan stayed behind for about ten minutes, only because he didn't feel like going home. There was no other reason for him to wait; no one would have been around to notice Chris and Jonathan leaving at the same time.

A whole week had passed since his father's death, and Jonathan felt like any progress made between he and his mother had been diminished. This time, though, it was Penny who was hiding. He had only seen her a total of two or three times since the accident, and that was including the funeral. He wasn't exactly sure, but he guessed that she was usually locked up in the bedroom she and Randall had shared. That's probably where Jonathan had gotten it from.

Oddly enough, Jonathan found it much more therapeutic to roam around the house rather than sit in his room. He had never really noticed how big their house was; in fact, it seemed like everyday he discovered a room he had never known existed before. It was quiet, too, which may have seemed eerie to anyone else, but to Jonathan it was normal and comforting. At times he wondered if he even missed Randall and all of his boisterousness.

He did. It was weird to admit, even to himself, but Randall was as much a part of him as anything else. He certainly never liked his hair, but if he suddenly went bald, he'd miss it. Plus, Randall was gone, but nothing else had changed. His life wasn't really that much better than it had been.

On the way home, Jonathan, as usual, walked past Devon's house. Kirsten was sitting on the front steps, staring out into the street. Jonathan stopped to greet her, though he remained standing on the sidewalk.

“Hey, Kirsten.” Kirsten snapped out of whatever trance she'd been in, and flicked her head towards Jonathan.

“Jonathan! Hi.” She seemed cheery, but there was a sorrowful quality in her tone.

Jonathan squinted his eyes and asked, “Are you crying?” Kirsten gasped a little, and self-consciously wiped her cheeks.

“Oh, you know. Just hormonal, I guess.” Jonathan decided to walk over to her, and sat down beside her. “I should probably get used to it, seeing as I've got nine more months of this to go through.” Kirsten studied Jonathan's face briefly, then said, “You look concerned.” Jonathan gave a small laugh.

“Do I?” Kirsten tapered her eyes and observed him again.

“Yeah. Even when you're laughing.” Then, quickly, her face fell into sympathy. “I'm sorry to hear about your father. That's horrible.”

“Thank you. To be honest, though, he kinda did it to himself. The drinking...”

“Still,” Kirsten said, “I imagine it's not easy to deal with.” She waited a long moment before continuing, “Hey, you didn't happen to pass by Devon, did you?”

“No, why?”

“He kinda stormed off earlier. I was hoping maybe he hadn't gone too far.” Kirsten messed with the hem of her skirt, then looked up and gave Jonathan a fake smile. “It's no big deal, though, he'll be fine.”

“He stormed off?” Jonathan asked, and became consciously aware of his concerned look.

“Yeah, he was upset about... something, I don't know.” Kirsten stared at the grassy lawn before her, and her eyes started to water a little. Jonathan suddenly felt a tension in the air, and it made him shift uncomfortably.

“Kirsten, it was nice seeing you, but I should be going now.” Jonathan hopped off the steps and began to walk away. “If I see Devon, I'll tell him to come home.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice terribly shaky. “Goodbye, Jonathan.” Jonathan gave her a small salute, which he realized shortly after must have looked completely ridiculous. He didn't care, though, because by that point she was already far enough behind him that it didn't matter anymore.