Lost Boys Academy (Book One: Orientation)

by Aaron Ferrara

  “So, how come you don't wear yours? You got all of them, don't you?” Jake asked.

  "Yes, I did, and they're hanging up right over there,” Mr. Pierce pointed to the spot on the wall behind his desk where half a dozen pins were stuck into a cork board. "I don't feel the need to carry them with me anymore. They're all rooted within me now."

  Jake looked up to Mr. Pierce, then lowered his gaze slowly, “I wish it were inside of me too.”

  Jake felt Jimmy’s eyes dart in his direction, but he continued to stare shamelessly at Mr. Pierce’s crotch. He knew that Mr. Pierce was a smart guy. What he didn’t know was if he was catching all of these innuendos, and just pretending not to notice, or if he was as obliviously naive as Mason. Regardless, Jake loved the thrill.

  "It will be, in time, Jake,” Mr. Pierce replied without missing a beat. He began pacing around the circle again, and this time he stopped at Jimmy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Jimmy, would you remind Mason of how you got your acceptance badge?"

  Jake couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous. Clearly, he was there for Mr. Pierce, for whatever he needed, and yet he called on someone else. Jake glanced to Jimmy, who he could tell was in no mood to regale his story again at the moment, and threw his hand in the air.

  "I'll go, Mr. Pierce!" And before he could answer "yes", Jake was already scooting his chair closer into the middle of the circle to begin.

  HOLLYWOOD, CA —six months ago

  The sound of applause erupted throughout the entire studio of lot twenty-four in Hollywood. Crowds, made up of mostly tween girls flailing cardboard signs that held a familiar face, filled the studio. There wasn’t an empty seat in the house. The set director walked the stage back and forth, waving his hands, signaling for the audience to end their piercing screams. The horde took a few minutes to settle down to a dull roar as the main cameraman panned his enormous black camera, focusing on two figures sitting center stage.

  "Welcome back," The talk show host shouted over the lingering cries from the audience. "You all know Jake Parker from the extremely popular Demon High Diaries." She paused and leaned back comfortably in a padded, red chair. The crowd picked up again in response to her statement, blaring throughout the studio as they waved their signs with Jake's face photo-shopped with various images and phrases. One read ‘Have my babies Demon King.’

  Ella had been on the air for over a decade now and knew how long she would have to wait for the audience to die down over a heartthrob like Jake Parker. He was, after all, young and in his prime. She flashed her playful, yet contagious smile to the admirers, showing she was in agreement.

  "Thank you for having me, Ella." Jake turned his signature half-smile to the audience, and they burst into a shrieking frenzy. He looked otherworldly; more like a male supermodel than an actor in his slick, black dress shirt rolled up to frame his biceps, matching slacks and designer steel-toed shoes. The gold tie he wore perfectly accented the outfit.

  “Let’s get down to it, Jake. The girls are lining up to get a chance with you, so what is it that keeps them so hooked?”

  Jake leaned in and rested his elbow on his knee, cocking his head to the side as he raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing, Ella?”

  The audience roared with laughter as Ella nervously chuckled, turning beet red.

  “Well said, Parker. Movin’ on, movin’ on.” She shifted her legs, pulling them up onto her chair to sit butterfly style—ready to get down to business. “Now Jake, you’re super close to your co-star, Cameron Lane, on screen. Tell us; is this a full-blown bromance? Are you two that close in real life?”

  The large monitor taking up most of the back wall of the set shifted from a picture of Ella’s face to Jake locking arms with an attractive blonde boy in a red cap who was around his age, give or take a year or so. Cameron wore a pair of sleek, black Ray-Bans that covered most of his face and a loose, dark red shirt.

  Jake forced a grin. He was raised to be in front of an audience. His parents were both actors and their parents before them too; but at the moment he could feel a sea of eyes staring him down, watching his every move. His hands apprehensively clutched to the edge of his chair arms until he realized his fingernails were digging into the plush, red fabric, so he stopped himself.

  Clearly Ella had struck a nerve, whether intentionally or not. Thankfully, it was undeniable that Jake was a natural-born actor.

  He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “I wouldn't call it a ‘bromance,’ Ella,” Jake’s gaze drifted off, as if he phased in and out of being present, one moment in control, the other forgetting that he was on a stage in front of hundreds of fans. “But yeah…we’re pretty close…”

  After another few hours of shooting, Jake walked down the hallway backstage with his head held high, thinking to himself what a great interview he’d managed to pull off—yet again. He passed crew members who waved him down and production assistants asking if he wanted some sparkling water or a sandwich, but he was off in his own world—Jake’s world—and there was not really a lot of room for anyone else.

  He finally reached a door hung with a whiteboard in the shape of a star that a production assistant had decked out with his name, surrounded by little hearts and swirls. He heard noises coming from inside his dressing room. As he was preparing to throw a tantrum, he swung open the door to see him.

  Cameron stood across the room with his back turned. He twirled one of Jake’s Teen Choice awards in his hand. When he heard the door open, he smirked over his shoulder.

  “How was the show?”

  “It was alright.” Jake stepped into the room cautiously, as if he were tip-toeing around a ravenous lion.

  “I heard the part about me. Can’t keep my name out of your mouth, huh? Or anything else for that matter?” Cameron took the award by the base and stroked it, making explicitly suggestive motions with his mouth.

  Jake couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh as he brushed a hand through his hair. “Shut up, Cam.”

  Cameron snickered. “Just messin’,” he walked over to Jake’s vanity chair and began to spin slowly. “It was a great interview.”

  Jake tried to steady his voice, but it was slightly shaky. “So, what’s up? What are you doing all the way out here?”

  “Just bored,” Cam shrugged his shoulders.

  “What about Julia?”

  “She’s out of town. Besides, I thought we could go over some lines together from the show, if you’re down?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Come on.”

  “I just have…”

  “Please?” Cam pulled his sunglasses down, revealing a pair of gorgeous deep, blue eyes.

  That was all Jake needed.

  “Ok…” Jake sighed, defeated. He could never say no to those eyes. He was always the one that others bent over backwards for; but when Cam was around, roles were reversed, leaving Jake to play a part he wasn’t used to.

  Cam smiled and stopped spinning in the chair, landing on Jake like a game of Russian roulette. He stood up, a little taller than Jake, but just about near-perfect height. He coyly removed his glasses and placed them on the vanity, then took off his red cap and tossed it like a Frisbee. His hair was sleek, buzzed short on the sides, so the tuft of hair on top was easily manageable by roughing it up with one hand.

  Jake closed the door behind him, finally entering the room completely. He moved across the room slowly, one step at a time. Then he paused and turned around, rushing to make sure the door was locked. He clicked the lock, took a deep breath, and turned to face a now shirtless Cameron.

  His body was flawless as he looked upon Cameron's lean, muscular build. His chest was well-defined and naturally smooth. Jake continued to scan his eyes downward, studying every inch of his body from his hardened, flat stomach, down to the v-shape lines above his hips that peeked out from the waistband of his briefs.

  Jake gulped, and began to clumsily hop towards Cameron as he unlaced his shoes. He yanked
them off and threw them aside. His slacks hit the floor immediately after he unbuckled his pants, leaving him in his dress shirt and underwear by the time he was face to face with Cameron.

  Cameron took ahold of Jake’s shirt without a single hesitation and unbuttoned it until he was able to jerk it open on both sides, sliding it down his arms. Although their bodies weren’t even touching yet, Jake could feel the heat coming from Cameron’s bare chest. His own heart so rapidly that it felt as if it were in his throat. A tingling sensation coursed throughout him as every hair on his body began to rise.

  He went to loosen his tie, but Cameron grabbed his wrist.

  “Leave it on,” he commanded with a sly grin.

  Jake nodded, raising an eyebrow.

  Without breaking eye contact, Cameron grabbed the waistband of his underwear on both sides and slowly dragged them down.

  “We get it!” Kyle interrupted. The annoyed expression on his face was plainly obvious, no matter how hard he tried to mask it. He twisted himself to face Mr. Pierce, his arms still folded across his chest. “What does this have to do with his story, Mr. Pierce?”

  Mr. Pierce was speechless for a moment before Jake replied for him, “It has everything to do with how I got my badge.”

  “How?” Kyle challenged.

  “I was getting to it.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, but when was this, before or after the part about Cam taking off your underwear with his teeth?”

  “What’s your problem, Kyle?” Jake wrinkled his forehead with attitude.

  “Nothing, I just think most of us are here to get better, and it doesn’t help hearing stories like that. You don’t have to get into detail. You were messing around with your in-the-closet actor friend and got caught. Actor friend throws you under the bus and outs you, and your parents send you off here. How hard was that?”

  Jake laughed sarcastically. “You should let other people decide. Some people think my story helps.”

  “Who?”

  Jake searched the room, stopping his puppy dog eyes on Alex. “What about you?”

  Kyle’s leer darted to Alex instantly, letting him know he was waiting for a response.

  Jake could tell from the minimal encounters he’d had with Alex that he did not seem the type that sought out confrontation. It was apparent from the few words he managed to speak, to the way he shifted around uncomfortably in his chair. His silence said it all, and Jake smiled comfortably.

  “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s move on.” Mr. Pierce attempted to break the tension, “Mason, ready to give it a shot?”

  “What about you, Mason? Did you find my story helpful?” Jake turned his attention to Mason, ignoring Mr. Pierce.

  “Ugh!” Kyle rolled his eyes again.

  “What??” Jake shrugged and frowned mockingly at Kyle. He was beginning to lose his patience with him. There were a lot of things that Jake could ignore, but Kyle's attitude irked him.

  Mason sat between the firing squad of bickering students, more pale than usual as they continued.

  “You know what you’re doing,” accused Kyle.

  “I’m not doing anything,” Jake defended.

  Back and forth they went until finally Mason stood up and moved quickly for the classroom door, dodging the probing glances of the other students.

  “Mason, where are you going?” Mr. Pierce called out.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Pierce, I have to leave,” Mason shouted, bursting through the door and disappearing into the hallway.

  “Some guys just can’t handle it I guess.” Jake shrugged. He paid no attention as Kyle shot a deathly leer in his direction.

  Jake couldn’t stand people that were overly jealous. There was just no reason to hate somebody for being themselves, and he was not about to apologize for people liking him. There was nothing he could do about it, and he decided the next time Kyle decided to throw a hissy fit, he would give him something to hiss about.

  Chapter Four

  -MASON-

  Mason didn't stop running until he reached the second floor balcony, making his way through the double doors that led out to a small courtyard. He crouched down, doubled over, trying to catch his breath as leaned back against the brick wall of the academy. He lowered to his knees and put his hands above his head, taking a moment to calm down. When his breathing pattern began to get back into a better rhythm, he slowly gazed up to the sky, following all of the buildings that towered high above. He hadn't felt this vulnerable in a long time. So frightened, so small.

  So alone…

  MONROE, MICHIGAN —four months ago

  The snow lashed against Mason’s face as he pedaled faster against the harsh, icy gusts of wind. It became more difficult to push through with each time his feet pushed down on the pedals of his ten-speed. It was like being on an exercise bike with maximum incline resistance selected—only about ten times worse.

  He threw the blue and black scarf his grandmother knitted for him over his shoulder for the hundredth time during the ten mile bike ride, just for it to fall back down again, waving in his face in a matter of seconds. The temperature was elevated just enough not to freeze to death, even though every time he exhaled it was like a foggy cloud of ice. He only had to bike a few more miles until he reached his grandmother’s house, so he tried to ignore the conditions and pressed on.

  The driveway was empty, as always, when Mason finally rode up. There weren’t ever many visitors to the Brooks family estate—the nearest neighbors were miles away in the tiny town, and Mason’s grandmother was a recluse, old woman. She hardly left the house unless she had to, so he was used to going out at all hours of the day and night to get whatever they needed to get them through the week.

  He was grateful for his grandmother taking him in. Even though it got lonely at times, they always had each other’s company. He did wonder from time to time if he was living a normal childhood, or if there was something more. He was always too busy to concern himself with the future, due to the fact that he was constantly tending to his grandmother’s every whim. He was exhausted, but his time at her house did help him develop sewing and cooking skills. He was prepped to bloom into the perfect, Catholic husband.

  Mason tugged at the dingy string of the garage door, prying it open, lifting it just high enough to slip in underneath. He then quickly slammed it shut, instantly separating himself from the cold air outside as a few puffs of icy breaths evaporated around him. The heater was on full blast, and Mason thankfully began to thaw, bringing a bit of color other than red slightly back into his nose. The wind was still howling, only it was muffled to a low rumble from inside the garage.

  Mason let out a sigh of relief as he pulled off his mittens and wiped the frost off of his thick, black-rimmed glasses. He propped his bike against a large, antique bureau. It was the only spot that he had carved space for himself in the crowded room—a room that looked nothing like a garage, but more like a warehouse of old furniture that was never sold in a yard sale.

  He weaved in-between mirrors and upturned chairs until he got to the door that allowed him entry to the house and proceeded in. The walls were covered in framed bible verses and ceramic crosses.

  Mason placed the paper bag of groceries on the countertop and went for the fridge, but before he could jerk it open, he noticed a note stuck to the fridge. It was being held up by a tiny magnet of a little, baby Jesus.

  Hi Dear,

  The Darrows will be over at 6 o’clock for dinner. I’ve put out a nice outfit for you to wear.

  Love, Grandma

  Mason rubbed his temples in frustration. The Darrows weren’t his favorite group of people in the world. Mrs. Darrow was, in his opinion, a cold woman who only ever talked about her depressing office job where she had to constantly reprimand her assistant for playing childish games and surfing dating websites on her phone. Mr. Darrow wasn’t any more appealing. The only reason Mason liked him slightly better was because he barely spoke at all. They were longtime ‘fri
ends’ of his grandmother; a younger couple from church that had nothing in common with them except for the fact that they had a son around the same age as Mason.

  Kenneth Michael Darrow. Mason thought of himself as a wallflower, but Kent was in a whole other league of awkward. Mason hated the way their guardians paired them together, year after year, forcing them to spend time with each other as if they were the other’s only friend. Kent was annoying as hell, a real know-it-all. Mason was ecstatic to hear last summer that he had been sent to a Catholic sports camp, so he wouldn’t have to see him for a whole year and a half! But the dreaded day had come where he would return. Mason began to unload the groceries and put the assorted items away, preparing for dinner.

  He heated the stove and poured a tablespoon of olive oil into a pan. Just as it hit the hot surface, the sizzle was silenced by the ring of the doorbell.

  It couldn’t be the Darrows, they were an hour and a half early. Mason turned down the stove heat and made his way to the front door, annoyed. He looked through the peephole, but it was far too blurry with condensation to see anything.

  BRIIING.

  The doorbell startled Mason to the point of him leaping a foot back, clutching his chest. He nudged his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and opened the door to see something that shocked him even more so than the doorbell—Kent, and Kent alone.

  What surprised Mason wasn’t the fact of Kent showing up on his own—but it was his striking appearance that he had apparently bloomed into overnight. Looked as though boarding school did Kent well.

  Very well.

  The oversized sweater stitched with the Catholic sports camp logo onto the chest couldn’t hide the rigid body underneath. Every curve and muscle was outlined like a marble statue. He had ash-brown hair, and his face was more rugged than Mason had remembered. He had definitely grown into that particularly large nose and top row of teeth.