Chapter 5 Justin hadn't mentioned choir to anyone including Lance.  He couldn't deal with the pressure and with his usual denial- laced thinking, he thought maybe Mr.  Raines would just drop it.  So he was surprised to see that the coach was frowning as he motioned him into his office and pointed to the chair next to his desk.  "What the hell were you thinking, Timberlake?" he started even before the door slammed. "What?" Justin responded, fear coursing through him, trying to think what the coach could be referring to.  Choir never even came to mind. "How the hell do you intend to play basketball and sing in the choir at the same time?" Justin's mouth dropped open.  No words came.  "Well?" "I told ....Mr.  Raines....," Justin began. "C'mon, Timberlake, spit it out." The older man was starting to look like Paul and he was scaring Justin.  He tried to compose himself and formulate a coherent thought. "I didn't say yes," he managed. The coach looked confused, "So, why does he think you did?" He had said no, hadn't he?  He was unsure now, a familiar place, but one where he usually ended up paralyzed.  So he slouched in his seat and remained silent, wishing he could remember the other conversation more clearly.  The coach was towering over him, staring down.  "Make it right, Timberlake.  You have a lot of talent but recruiters aren't looking for a part time player.  Besides, the choir is a lot of pansies, isn't it?" "I'll talk to him tomorrow," Justin said.  He had been jolted by the coach's remark about pansies.  Johnson nodded, taking Justin's sad look for disappointment that he couldn't do both and waved his hand in dismissal, frowning when he saw Justin's limp.  He had been so intent on questioning the boy that he missed the more important problem. "Your knee?  How is it?" he asked less gruffly.  Justin shrugged, not wanting to say that he really didn't follow the instructions to stay off it completely and he hadn't had a chance to ice it much,  but he did put the gel on and it did feel better today. Coach knelt down and examined it, pushing the baggy jeans leg up past the swollen joint.  "Shit.  Sit out practice today with your leg up and ice again.  If it's not better by tomorrow, we'll have to get you to a doctor.  Tell your Mom that." His list of unpleasant encounters was growing.  He wondered if he could get everyone in his life pissed at him at the same time.  He limped off to get the ice and find an out of the way spot to sit. He hated not being out there.  It was his release for the day, that and kissing Lance.  But, you couldn't tell he was unhappy.  As JC watched him, he thought the little shit was content, soaking up the attention as one boy after the other went over and patted him on the back. JC's jealousy must have shown, a rare lapse on his part, because he felt AJ's hand on his back and the snarky tone in his voice, "Want *me*  to trip *you*?" JC whirled around and faced his friend, his shock obvious.  This time AJ laughed out loud, "I *know* you, Jayce, remember?" JC searched his friend's face for the condemnation that he thought should be there, but he found none.  Instead he said, "Golden boy could *use* being brought down a peg." JC simply nodded, his plan too vague to share with anyone just yet. It seemed like forever before the coach broke up the lovefest and started the practice.  Then it was like before, JC the #1, and it felt great, but short of breaking Justin's leg, there was no way to get rid of him for good.  The thought of Justin out of the way excited him and he pushed the idea away with difficulty, determined to shine without Justin there. JC was still exhilarated as they headed home.  Justin was tense, thinking about the unpleasant task he was facing at school the next day, never sure that he could get his message across.  JC frowned.  "What's up, Jus?" "Mr.  Raines asked me to join the choir and I said no but he thinks I meant yes or something.  Coach was pissed and somehow tomorrow I have to convince Mr.  Raines I don't want to be in the choir.  Shit!" JC was seeing red at this point.  When he was first on the basketball team, he had gone to Mr.  Raines and asked to be in the choir as well but the prick had said it would never work out.  Then when he told his father he wanted to drop the basketball, his father had thrown a fit and knocked him around the room.  So JC was still playing ball and he was livid that the director would do back flips to get golden boy to sing. His fingers were white where he was clutching the steering wheel.  He could hardly believe that there was another area where Justin could outshine him and apparently, without even trying. He thought of making a comment, something nasty, but he was too angry to speak. Justin, his antennae always up, sensed the shift in mood and got quiet and stayed that way through the trip. He thanked JC for the ride and slipped into the house.  As he started up the stairs, his mother flew around the corner.  "Justin Randall Timberlake, come back here." Oh shit, maybe it was coming true— everybody pissed at the same time.  "What, Momma?" he said.  He looked at her and flinched, her anger clear.  He was sure this had something to do with the fucking choir, too.  So much for not telling anyone. "Why on earth would you turn Mr. Raines down when he requested you specifically?" "I can't do both— basketball and choir.  Coach Johnson was really..." "Coach Johnson does not care whether you get into an Ivy League school." "Yes, Momma, but..." "I spoke to Mr.  Raines and he is willing to let you and Britney practice at lunch.  Then you just have to work out the concerts but he assures me that they won't interfere with the games." But, Momma, I don't want..." "Justin, do you understand what kind of child gets into these schools— the over achievers, that's who.  Basketball and good grades won't do it.  You need other activities.  I saw Mrs Craiger at the grocery store and she says Freddy is getting all As and he's the yearbook editor, the newspaper editor and has a part time job working at a little local paper." "What could I say about you?  I was embarrassed, Justin, ashamed to say you only play basketball and you got a B+ just last week." "Basketball takes a lot..." "No excuses, Justin.  I just don't want you to be a loser.  There are times when I think you are more trouble than you're worth." He gasped at the last, the hurt going down to some place he thought he had well-protected.  He swallowed convulsively, trying to keep the bile where it belonged, holding back tears that threatened to spill over and expose him to more ridicule. He looked closely at her and saw the little glaze in her eyes that said she had had lunch, a mostly liquid lunch, with her friends and this was the result.  That made it okay, okay to hurt him, because after all she was drinking. He was caught between a rock and a hard place.  If he agreed to join the choir, coach and Lance would be pissed.  If he said no, his mom and Mr.  Raines would be angry.  And right now, whatever he said would be the wrong thing. He stood in the hall, silent, hoping she would wave him off without an answer but she wasn't whacked enough to forget from one minute to the next.  "Well?" she questioned, her voice knifelike. Momma, I can't..." he started and she flew at him, her hand leaving an imprint on his face before either could react.  They were both stunned.  She hadn't hit him in a long time, since she spanked him when he was young.  The tears came then, flowing in little tracks down his face, no sound yet. He turned and ran upstairs, slamming the door behind him in a minor act of rebellion that he regretted immediately. He threw himself on the bed and drew his legs up, curling into a ball, hugging his pillow and sobbing into the sound muffling material.  His mother's words "more trouble than you're worth" ran in an endless loop, reinforcing every belief he had about himself and even though somewhere his brain was trying to tell him she was drunk, his soul denied that. He was finally cried out and left with the same dilemma.  He knew he would receive punishment from one pair or the other and he would have to choose which was the least hurtful.  The coach he could satisfy but Lance would be pissed beyond imagining that Justin would spend every lunch period with Britney.  No reassurances would soften that one. Of the other two, Mr.  Raines would just make his life miserable in music class, no biggie.  He couldn't fail him, not for that and Justin was too good a student to let it happen.  It was his mother. Somehow, she became a colossus in his eyes, towering psychically over him, dominating his every move.  Her reaction outweighed the other three put together. Momma's boy.  How long had he been terrified of not pleasing his mother?  Sure, her drinking had a direct correlation to his efforts to placate her, but it was more than that.  He didn't remember the drinking being a problem when he was younger and this feeling was one he had in some form or another all his life. He tried to remember his father.  It was only five years but he was fading away, Justin unable to bring up a clear picture any more.  He rolled out of bed and picked up the framed photo on his desk.  It had been of the three of them in Disney World when he was six or seven. They looked happy enough. But then he focused on his father and remembered the trip.  His mother arranged, directed, and nagged through the whole thing, he and his father quietly obeying. His father had always been shy and often wondered aloud how he was ever lucky enough to get the prettiest girl in the school to marry him.  He never crossed her even though he told Justin privately sometimes that he probably didn't deserve the spankings he got.  And he never stopped her from beating Justin down with mean words, pushing the boy along.  Grooming him for life she said and his father just watched with sad eyes. When his father got sick, Justin was scared and it reinforced his need to be in his mother's good graces. He became more pliant than ever until he ended up where he was today.  There had never truly been a doubt how the choir thing would go once his mother made up her mind. He debated how to tell Lance.  He wasn't sure he could take any more shit today.  On the other hand, just not showing up, would bring on the storm.  He washed his face and sought out JC.  "I know I'm being a pain, but are you going out tonight by any chance?" JC saw the swollen, red eyes.  He had listened with no effort to the confrontation in the front hall and had leaned over the railing just in time to see Justin get slapped.  Justin hadn't even noticed him when he flew up the stairs and JC had gone back to his own room, a plan hatching.  He *needed* to drive Justin tonight, to start the plan, but he wanted Justin to feel awful as well. "Ummm, let me see...." he trailed off. JC studied people.  He knew their weaknesses, their habits, their strong points.  He knew Justin would start babbling, apologizing for asking, for imposing, for breathing for Chrissake, if the silence went on any longer.  He counted in his head...1...2..3... "I'm so sorry to keep asking, but I don't have any other way to get there.  I hate to ask Dad and Mom can't drive by then and Lance can't come here and I know it's inconvenient.  Oh jeez, I'm sorry, just forget it." JC kept his expression completely brotherly. "No, man, it's ok  No problem," he said, an ingratiating smile on his face.  He knew Justin would be so grateful that he would offer to do anything in return.  And he did. "Anything I can do, just let me know.  Right?" "Sure, I'll let you know," JC responded, as if he didn't already have the favor in mind. Dinner was tense.  "Justin, are we clear about choir?" his mother asked.  He simply nodded. "What about choir?" Paul asked, looking up from his paper. "Justin has been asked to join.  Mr.  Raines is providing a special time to practice so it doesn't interfere with basketball.  He must really want you, Justin." Justin was pushing the food around on his plate, thinking about how he was going to tell Lance.  He wasn't sure what the right response was. "Sorry, zoned out.  What did you say?" Justin apologized. "She said `Mr.  Raines wants another fruit in his basket'," Paul said.  Justin stiffened at the remark but his mother jumped in before he had to say anything. "Stop that, Paul," she snapped.  He just smirked and went back to his paper.   JC's eyes flitted around the table, gauging reactions, stockpiling data to use against Justin at the right time.  Justin looked terrified, Paul's remark cutting, fearful of what would happen when they found out that Lance was more than a friend.  Lynn had the semi- usual disgusted look, directed at Paul but JC was sure that if she found out baby boy was a fag, it would be directed at him as well. And Paul, JC knew, hated "homos" as he called them.  JC was careful about who he let know about his sexual preferences because he sure as shit didn't need any more crap from his father. Justin asked to be excused again, promising to return to do the dishes and Paul watched him leave, his eyes narrowed.  JC could read him, knew that the speculative look that he was giving Justin would come in handy somewhere down the line. For right now, it was important that JC cultivate his stepbrother's dependence on him, not arousing suspicion.  Justin was a scared rabbit, his hypervigilance convincing him of things that weren't there, causing him to discount things that were.  It wouldn't be too hard to confuse the kid.  JC smiled, a warm feeling in his belly, anticipating bringing Justin to his knees. Justin shivered in his room, rocking back and forth, the recent comments replaying... "pansies, fruit, so are you dating Lance?"  He so didn't want to come out to his parents, not now, when he had to live here for two more years.  He knew Lance would be unsympathetic on this issue and besides, they already had the choir fight waiting in the wings. Justin chickened out.  He called Lance and lied.  He said his parents didn't want him going out so many nights in a row.  He could hear in Lance's voice that he didn't believe it, but they didn't argue about it.  His guilt twisted in his stomach after he hung up the phone, but he knew it was too late to change his mind.  He'd just deal with all of this in the morning. When he told JC that he had changed his mind, JC just cocked his head and shrugged.  As if just thinking of it, he smiled and said, "That favor?" "Sure, what?" Justin answered. "I wanted to join the choir myself but couldn't because of basketball.  Think you could blackmail Mr.  Raines into letting me come along?" It was his best gee whiz voice. Justin grinned, "Definitely.  It would help me out, too." "How?" JC asked, though he had a fair idea of what Justin's dilemma might be. "Ummm, I just don't want Britney getting the wrong idea and it would feel different if you were there, too." "You do know you are the *only* boy in the school that shows no interest in getting in her pants." Justin blushed.  He had no idea how to respond.  It seemed like lately he just kept stepping onto one landmine after another.  JC saved him, "Not your type?" "She's ok.  Nice enough.  But yeah, not my type." He hoped JC wouldn't go any further. "So will you ask Raines?" JC said. "Absolutely.  First thing.  Gotta go study.  Catch ya later." JC watched him go.  Guess Lance might want to get reports on how practice goes— from an unbiased observer.  Definitely. Once in his room, Justin breathed a sigh of relief.  Another close call.  It never entered his mind that the close call had been staged and that he had absolutely no say in his life at all. continue menu