Chapter 1 Justin was still half asleep the next morning, eating his cereal, when JC blew through the kitchen , grabbing a piece of fruit and yelling over his shoulder, "If you want a ride, have your ass out the door in five minutes." Justin debated for a minute and then left the cereal behind in the sink, a sacrifice to be sure, in favor of getting to school early enough to spend a few minutes with Lance.  He just made it as JC was turning the key, throwing himself into the front seat and panting from the nonstop sprint.  "Thanks, JC," he said.  He really liked his new stepbrother of six months and was only too willing to grovel to get his attention. "Whatever," JC replied and let the conversation end before it started.  Justin bit his lip, wanting to say something clever, to impress the older boy, but nothing seemed to come.  So he sat back in the seat and closed his eyes, humming to himself.  JC caught his profile out of the corner of his eye and smirked.   Shouldn't be too hard to ruin the kid.  He was too insecure to be hard to break. JC switched on a radio station, twisting the volume up to drown out Justin's voice.  Justin jumped, startled and sat up straight.  JC laughed, a little unkindly it seemed to Justin, but he relaxed when JC said, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." "It's OK," the boy answered in that high sweet voice that made JC's skin crawl.  But there was nothing on JC's face that showed that, just the carefully blank look that he had perfected after years of practice with parents and teachers. JC smiled at Justin, exposing even white teeth.  "Practice this afternoon right after school?" Glad to be able to help, Justin nodded, "Yep, right after.  Coach wants us on time, too, he said, or we'll be suspended or something." JC nearly gagged on the gee whiz shit coming from his stepbrother's mouth.  But Justin wasn't paying any attention to him anyway. They were pulling into the lot and Justin was craning, looking for Lance amid the sea of freshly scrubbed faces. "So —you need a ride home?" "Sure, thanks," Justin responded, not sure why he asked every day, as if Justin had some other way of getting home after dark.  He opened the door, "Thanks, JC, thanks a lot." JC watched as Lance found him and while there was no touching, it was clear that they were more than friends.  He knew Justin hadn't told his mom or his stepfather that he was gay and if and when they found out, he knew that the shit would truly hit the proverbial fan— at least with his dad.  JC knew, too, that there were some whispers at school, but the two of them were too damned nice and popular for anyone to confront them on it.  People would rather let them be, not know for sure, not have to take sides on the whole gay issue thing JC himself was gay but he didn't give a rat's ass if the little losers in this school knew or not.  And once Lance was public and Justin was out of the picture, well he could see the little scenario play out.  Oh yeah.  As far as his father, well, he just wouldn't let dear old dad near the school.  Not hard as his father was totally uninterested in either son or stepson and last night's appearance was only to keep Lynn off his back. He watched Justin disappear into the school, *almost* feeling sorry for the poor kid whose life was going to be in shambles as quickly as JC could make it happen without anyone suspecting. Justin and Lance walked down the hall together, making plans for later, after dinner, to "study".  Justin giggled, "This time we *really* have to study.  If I don't do well this semester, it'll be that much harder to impress the admissions offices." Lance laughed, his deep bass voice vibrating through Justin, "As if you are going to have a problem.  You could be dumb as a post and they'll take you for the basketball." "Not in the Ivies." "Jus, if you sat back and did nada, you'd still do well enough to impress everyone, so calm down.  Do you want to make out or study?" "Can't we do both?  Justin whined. Lance assumed the air of a martyr, "Afraid not, baby boy," he answered, trying to keep the smile out of his voice, "one or the other." Justin bit his lip and sighed, seriously considering the options. Lance was biting his own lip to stifle his laugh.  "Well," Justin began, "I guess I could study later..." Lance's snorted laugh stopped Justin in mid-sentence and he looked at Lance.  It dawned on him, finally, that Lance had been teasing him and he got a hurt look on his face.  He blushed, feeling stupid again, and Lance got serious, "Justin, I was just teasing.  Sorry.  I didn't mean....I didn't think you'd take me seriously." Justin was busy kicking himself. How come I always fall for stuff like that? How come I don't know when people are kidding?  But what he said was, "It's OK.  Gotta get to class.  See you at lunch?" Lance nodded and watched Justin walk away, shoulders just a notch lower than a few minutes ago. Lance wanted to kick himself, too. Justin was so damned easy to tease that Lance fell into it without thinking and always ended up hurting the younger boy.  And he really never wanted to hurt him. They met up at lunch and Justin acted as if nothing had happened, so Lance didn't bring it up, the old saw about letting sleeping dogs lie coming to mind.  Instead, he asked Justin about his paper for history.  Justin frowned, obviously not pleased, "I got a B+." "Cool," Lance responded, "Why do you look like Digger O'Dell?" "Who?" Justin asked, wondering why he never got Lance's references and feeling stupid again for asking. "Just a name, meaning you look like an undertaker, all serious and sad." "Oh," the younger boy said, "Well, I am.  I should have done better. Mom will be pissed and I'll hear about it, and about Freddy Craiger's A+, too ." "Don't tell her," Lance said, making it sound so simple.  Maybe it was, maybe she'd forget if he didn't say anything. But he knew that was unlikely. When she wasn't drinking, she always asked about school, grades, anything that would bear on his possible admission to one of the elite schools. He frowned. It was going to be hard to explain away the less than perfect grade. He could hardly say that he had to rush through it because he and Lance had spent the rest of the evening making out. He smiled at the memory of the kisses and the feelings and the release when Lance had stroked him to orgasm. He was startled when Lance poked him, "Share, babe, that dreamy look on your face can only mean one thing." Justin turned and looked at Lance, seeing in his eyes that he knew exactly what Justin was thinking. Justin blushed and Lance laughed, "Don't be embarrassed. I do it all the time, but mostly in American History." Justin sighed, his favorite form of expression. He wished he could be like Lance, taking life lightly, not as the serious drama  Justin felt like it was. He tried, like tonight. He had agreed to go over to Lance's, despite the pressure to make up for the B+ that was gnawing away at him. He knew there would be no studying, only kissing and....he sighed again. "Jus, stop the sighing already," Lance chided, "Life ain't that bad. I hear two of the hottest guys in the school are going to be making out tonight. Want to watch?" Justin laughed then, glad that he had Lance to lighten his mood,  "Sure. Anyone we know?" "Maybe. Meet me at my house as soon as you can after dinner and we'll see." The rest of the hour was spent chatting as a stream of visitors to the table stopped by to drop the latest gossip in their laps. Since most was about girls, neither was interested, but they humored their friends by oohing and ahing at the appropriate points. When Britney slid in next to Justin though, he rolled his eyes at Lance, warning him not to insult her. He knew Lance was jealous of Britney even though they had been over this ground hundreds of times. Justin couldn't just ignore her or not take her out occasionally.  It would just make things too obvious and they had known each other forever. "Hey, Justin," she cooed, "how are you?" Staring at him, she missed the mocking face Lance made, imitating her flirty gestures.  Justin turned to face her, smiling, friendly as always, "I'm OK. What's up?" "Joey is having a party Friday night.  Take me, please?" Lance's face lost the amused look and he frowned at his boyfriend, daring him to say yes.  Justin coughed, trying to cover his discomfort, buying time as his mind went blank, all useful options disappearing from the radar screen. "Umm.....I....uh.....," he knew he sounded like an idiot.   He couldn't win— at least one, if not both, would be pissed off with him and he didn't have the time to figure out which was the lesser of the two evils.  He looked at Lance and made his decision, "Sorry, Brit, I have some serious work to do this weekend.  I'm way behind on my schoolwork." He said it with such a sincere smile that she couldn't even be angry.  "Then how about a movie Saturday?" Justin sighed, trapped, "Sure, Brit, Saturday.  I'll call you." He wanted to cry when Lance stood up abruptly and left the table without even nodding at Justin. JC had watched the whole thing from across the room.  Jesus H. Christ— what was it about the kid?  First Lance, a hottie if he had ever seen one, and now the school princess, Britney, both fighting over the little prick.  Well, enjoy it, Justin, because time is running out. He saw Lance leave, curious about the expression on his face, wondering if there was an opening there, a little tear in the fabric that he could widen with some well placed pressure.  Easing from his seat, he managed to intercept Lance in such an artful way that Lance thought it was an accident. "Sorry, man," JC said, reaching out to steady Lance, "Hey, Lance!" "Hi, JC," Lance replied, in no mood for pleasantries.  He was pissed that Justin had fallen for her shit.  Sometimes he wanted to shake the boy and ask him exactly which way he swung.  Why the hell did Justin keep dating her?  It was only occasionally, but once was too much for Lance. "You look pissed.  Oh yeah, pissed.  What's up?  Baby brother fuck up?" Lance looked surprised, "It's nothin'.  Just annoying shit." He didn't want to say more.  He wasn't sure how much JC knew. "Looked like more than nothing to me.  Justin can be real dense sometimes, you know?" And then he strolled off, leaving Lance to wonder just what the hell that comment meant. Lance avoided Justin for the rest of the day, letting Justin pay for his bad judgement.  It wasn't that Justin didn't try to see him, but every time he got close, Lance would slip away. Justin finally gave up when he had to go to practice.  He let his mind focus on the sport, not on Lance and he was calm for the first time since lunch.  As he did his wind sprints, racing up and down the court, he relaxed, letting his body take over and his mind sail away.  The coach's loud voice brought him firmly into the moment. "Timberlake, hello-o-o," the coach called and Justin jumped.  "Pay attention, kid." Justin was there in seconds, fully focused on the older man.  He listened as the coach told them that there would be a shake-up on the team, that they would all be vying for the same spots and that in one week, he would decide who played where. JC and Justin looked at one another, number one and two on the team. Justin had been on the freshman team last year and the coach had been drooling, anxious to move him up to the varsity where his talent could be put to good use.  Now that he was here, Mr.  Johnson wanted to make sure Justin was in the position best suited to him. After practice, Justin knocked on the coach's door, nervous about facing him.  "Coach?" he called softly, pushing the door open. "Hmmm, what, Timberlake?" "About what you said?  JC's a senior.  Couldn't he play the top spot and I could back him up?  I can play just about anywhere, Mr.  J." "Justin, this is about a team, not stars.  I will not make my decision based on seniority.  You know that you're the best we have. I already know who will be #1.  I just have to sort out the rest. You're a good kid. Now, out, go home." Justin left.  Shit, could this day get worse?  He hurried to the locker room, anxious to not keep JC waiting.  He didn't see the older boy watching him, wondering what had happened in the coach's office, nursing his hatred, guessing that Justin would replace him next week in the number one spot. JC was tapping his fingers on the wheel when Justin came out, curls still dripping from the rushed shower.  "Sorry, I had to talk to the coach." "About?" Justin was stumped.  He was a horrible liar but he couldn't tell JC the truth either.  When he stuttered, "Uh....nothing....really." JC took that as confirmation that Justin had gone in there to assure himself that his golden status was safe.  He gritted his teeth and focused on the road. "You know," JC finally said, "You're not all that great." He was dying to take the kid down a peg, make the golden boy feel what he felt every day. Justin swallowed hard as he heard his mother's favorite expression come from JC's mouth.  "I know," he said, his voice so small it was barely recognizable.  He felt the tears prick and bit his lip to hold them back. "I mean, you're good, don't get me wrong, but you're not all that." Justin just nodded in the semi-darkness, knowing he couldn't speak. The rest of the trip was completed in silence.  JC was surprised at how easily he had gotten to the kid and stored the data in his file marked Get Justin. Justin sat silent, a swirl of thoughts passing through, creating a din.  Did he act as if he thought he was great?  He tried not to. Why did JC say that then?  Why did his mother say it every day in some form or another?  He wanted to cry.  The only one who acted as if he was great was Lance and now Lance was pissed and he had to make that ok before he could seek the comfort he needed.  Life was a lot of work. continue menu