The Bright Side Brigade

by Elaine White

  With a shrug, he reached up and slid the strap off his shoulder with a wince and gladly handed it over.

  Fearghas laughed as he put it on. “Holy crap, Sterling. What do you have in here?” he asked, clearly noticing the weight was a little more than what it would be for most students.

  They began walking towards the school gates together, as he tried to explain. “Three maths books, one for chemistry and two for English Lit. A paperback I'm working my way through, my gym kit and a packed lunch,” he revealed, wondering if that was a lot. Technically, most of it was schoolwork apart from the novel.

  “So what's the book?” Fearghas asked, as though he really cared.

  “A fantasy novel,” he answered, pretty sure that he was blushing as they rounded the gates and passed by a dozen other students who were just arriving.

  Turning to squint at him, his crush prodded a little further. “About?”

  “Um, a Hunter and a Maiden, fighting to save a bunch of shapeshifters from humans,” Sterling said, with a smile. He didn't think Fearghas would appreciate him mentioning that the romance was between the Hunter and another boy, or that the subtle YA love story within the novel had made him cry. No one needed to know that.

  “That sounds familiar,” Fearghas muttered to himself. Then, visibly shaking it off, he asked, “You don't take gym class, so why the kit?”

  Ah, he'd been rumbled. Normally no one questioned that little snippet, because they just assumed he had gym on his schedule, but he'd ditched that the moment he was allowed. One too many embarrassing incidences in the boys’ locker room or just in general. He wasn't a great athlete or all that sociable, so that anything that demanded lots of excise and team work wasn't his idea of fun.

  “After school I have tennis club, then I run on the treadmill to cool down,” Sterling explained, hoping Fearghas wouldn't notice what he'd said if he just kept talking. “My dad works late and it gives my Pops a little more time to himself. He works all day long, at home, on book translations and, you know, keeping the household organised. It's a hard job; sometimes I think it's harder than a nine to five job,” he confessed.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Fearghas shrugged, but didn't seem all that convinced as they crossed the parking lot and finally made it towards the front doors.

  “Well, if you think about it, juggling the household alone must be exhausting. There's bills, cleaning, washing, tidying and, with three men in the house, it's not exactly a nice task.” Sterling chuckled at the thought; his dad was a slob, but he'd inherited his Pops preference for organisation and cleaning. “Add on his job, doing the shopping and the cooking, too...I can't imagine how he has time for his afternoon yoga class, on top of all of that.”

  With a thoughtful hum, Fearghas nodded and grabbed the left hand door. Opening it, he held it and waited for Sterling to go first. “I never thought about it like that. My mum owns a coffee shop and runs that until around five, then has time to cook dinner before we get back. We have a maid for most of the other stuff. My dad is a professional hockey player, so though he's retired, he does a lot of coaching and endorsement stuff, so he's rarely home,” he explained, as though that explained everything.

  “Huh. Must be nice,” he remarked, only to catch a glare from Fearghas.

  Interesting. So he was touchy about his home life, was he? That was a surprise.

  “I only mean that it must be nice to not be nagged at to clean your room, do the dishes and all the other chores,” he clarified, with a smile that he hoped soften the blow. “I swear, by the time I get home, my room will still be the same disaster it was this morning and I'll have to clean it before dinner or not eat.” He laughed, because that was a slight exaggeration. His Pops would just hold back dinner until he was done, to teach him about punctuality and time keeping.

  Which, when he thought about it, were all very valuable lessons, since he was not too far from leaving school and embarking on uni. Sterling would probably be the best prepared kid on campus, by that time.

  Fearghas stared at him like he was an alien. “I guess we do lead pretty different lives,” he said, with a hint of something strange in his voice.

  Sterling shrugged it off, while walking towards his locker halfway along the long corridor. People were crowded closer to them now, fighting for space to stand about and loiter until the first warning bell rang. “I don't see how. You're a teenager, I'm a teenager. It's smart for you not to have chores or you'd never have time for tennis and homework. Me? I've got plenty of time for both,” he admitted.

  And he meant it. He wasn't making fun of Fearghas for his lifestyle or the fact that he and his parents had a lot more money. He was just acknowledging that they had their own plans, lives and routines, and that worked for them.

  “Do you remember how you ended up in the water?” Fearghas asked out of nowhere.

  Turning to face him, he couldn't keep the shock from his face.

  “I, uh, heard some of the guys at the fairground talking about it. They acted like you'd just appeared out of thin air,” he explained, looking down at the floor as he pulled Sterling's bag from his shoulder and handed it over without looking at him.

  Taking the bag, he dumped it at his feet and reached up to scratch his left earlobe. “No. The last thing I remember is sitting under a tree opposite that stupid machine that grants wishes. I made my wish, just holding onto my token, not putting it in the machine. All these colours appeared inside the crystal ball and...next thing I know, I'm in the water,” he revealed.

  Fearghas' eyes went wide, as he slowly nodded. He probably thought Sterling was a right lunatic. The problem was, he wasn't so sure he wasn't.

  Clearing his throat, Fearghas forced a smile. “Well, I have to stop by my locker. I'll pick you up outside the front doors after school?” he said, already backing away.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He couldn't help but smile and wonder if Fearghas would turn and run if he could. He sure was in a hurry to escape. Sterling stifled a laugh and turned back to his locker, to finally start his day.

  Chapter 5

  The morning went by in a whirlwind of questions and well wishes. It seemed that Deryn and a few of her cheerleader friends had been at the fairground with Fearghas and his friends on Friday night, so of course Sterling's awful night was now school gossip.

  Did you hear about that loner from the cafeteria? He dove into the river and almost drowned.

  Who, that maths geek?

  Yeah, the gay kid. I heard that he hit his head before going into the water. Someone thinks he was hit over the head on purpose, because someone was trying to kill him.

  No way!

  Yeah. Either that or, I heard a rumour this morning, that he did it to himself to get Fearghas' attention. He's been crushing on him since forever.

  Well, we all know that.

  Sterling gritted his teeth and ignored the gossip as much as he could, but every time he walked down the corridor, he heard a new insane theory, a new ridiculous notion or rumour. Heading for the cafeteria for lunch, he plugged in his headphones and tucked the attached iPod into his jean pocket.

  Years & Years blasted into his ears as he walked into the cafeteria, ignoring the mulling students to head straight for a table.

  Bobbing his head, he grabbed his bag and swung it onto the table, as he slid onto the bench seat, humming along to the song. Unzipping the bag, he removed the paperback and his packed lunch box, then tucked the bag at his feet. His BB-8 lunch box, from the new Star Wars film made him smile every time, since his Pops had gone to every online store he could to find one that 'looked right'. He was a stickler about details and the one they'd found in the store, that Sterling had been happy to pick up for a few bucks, had been rejected due to a miscolouration on the little droid.

  One side was his bowl of fruit salad, the tub curled into BB-8's body, while his sandwich was a perfect circle. Sterling nearly laughed to see that his Pops had used his favourite sandwich cutter to make it look like the Dea
th Star.

  Picking it up, he grinned and unwrapped it from the clear, protective food bag and traced his fingertip over the raised pattern. He tore off a piece and took his first bite in perfect bliss; good music, good food and a hint of what tonight would entail for Movie Night. Maybe a Star Wars marathon, if he didn't have too much homework, or just the latest if he did.

  He wondered what shaped sandwich he'd have if they were watching a different movie. A Harry Potter snitch? A Hunger Games Mockingjay? Or maybe a Lord of the Rings One Ring? Who knew? The man loved to spring surprises on Sterling when he least expected it and he didn't doubt that this one was caused by his trip to the hospital on Friday.

  His Pops had not been happy about coming to pick him up from the emergency room. He'd been practically spitting nails when the doctor insisted he had no risk of concussion, despite having a gap in his memory and a decent lump on the back of his head. In fact, Pops had pretty much ranted and raved at the man, until he admitted that he was just looking to get rid of Sterling to free up some space. After that, there was a very quiet, angry conversation before he was whisked home.

  It had taken an hour to convince his Pops that he was going to be safe to sleep. And, considering his dad had said it would be fine, there hadn't been a lot of wriggle room for Pops to argue.

  Still, it was good to know he cared so much.

  As the tune switched to a Fleetwood Mac song, a shadow fell over the table and made him look up. Fearghas waved and mimed taking out an earbud, which Sterling rushed to do, feeling flustered and surprised.

  Swallowing his second bite, he pulled out the second earbud and switched off his iPod. “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking around the cafeteria uncomfortably. Everyone was staring, which wasn't exactly a surprise since Fearghas was Mr Popular and he was...not. He had friends, sure. He had lots of them, but most of them were part of an RPG gaming crew that met up at lunch times to play in the Rec room.

  Sterling could have joined them, but sometimes they got a bit loud that even his iPod couldn't drown out their shouting and screaming about dragons, danger and weapon caches. He liked his solitude during lunch breaks, but was happy to hang out with them at all other times. He just never thought Fearghas would intrude on his hour alone.

  “Well, I was thinking about that book you mentioned and I think I know what it is,” he admitted quietly, as he slung one leg over the bench seat across from him and sat down. He dropped his bag on the table, right next to Sterling's.

  He rushed to grab the book he'd left sitting out, though the cover wouldn't even hint that he was reading a gay romance in school hours. He didn't think there was a rule against it, but his fellow students might take exception.

  Sterling was pretty sure that he wouldn't enjoy the same quiet life he had, if he began dating or flaunting his 'gayness' around the school. He was lucky enough that there was a Zero Tolerance policy, so one whisper of bullying or name calling to the principal could have someone suspended. He had no doubts that was the only reason there had been no gay-bashing or homophobic crap thrown his way, so far. That would all change if he made a point of flaunting it in their faces.

  “Um, sorry. What did you say?” he asked, realising that his panic had taken over.

  “You okay?” Fearghas frowned and leaned over the table to peer at him more closely.

  “Yeah.” Shaking his head made the room spin, so he blinked a few times and sighed. “I'm still feeling a bit off, you know? I hate to say that I think my Pops was right; I shouldn't have gone to sleep for so long. I feel a bit...confused. Have done all day,” he confessed grudgingly. “Not sure why I'm even surprised. Pops is always right.”

  Fearghas chuckled and folded his arms. “Well, I can take you home, if you want. I've got a study class next, so I can skip it.”

  “No, it's fine. I have my maths test next and I want to get it done,” Sterling admitted, turning to his bag, where he grabbed a few painkillers from his 'first aid' kit that his Pops made him carry around. He'd never once regretted having it there.

  After popping two pills and taking a sip from his bottle of water, that he'd failed to open until now, he mentally reminded himself to thank Pops tonight. He always took such good care of him.

  Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Fearghas and checked his memory. “Sorry, you said something about the book?”

  “Yeah.” He flashed a cute smile and licked his lips. “It's that one by Jeremy Martin, right?” he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

  For a few minutes, Sterling blinked and forgot to breathe. At least, it felt like a few minutes. He seriously hoped it wasn't or his Pops and his dad would kill him. Clearing his throat, he glanced around before speaking. “How do you know that?” he asked, though the bigger question remained unspoken.

  ARE YOU GAY?

  That was just rude to ask, so he figured he'd be a little underhanded about it. Asking how he knew was almost the same thing, anyway. No straight man read gay romance that he knew of. Well, other than his Uncle Jed, but he insisted that it helped him understand Pops better, since they were brothers, but completely different in so many ways. They both claimed it worked.

  “I've read it,” Fearghas confessed, as though it was no big deal.

  “Why?”

  With a shrug, he scratched his chin, then turned to his bag, where he removed a small package wrapped in tin foil. As he unwrapped what looked to be an unappealing, sloppily made PB and J sandwich, Sterling sighed and handed over the half of his sandwich he hadn't reached yet.

  “Don't worry, I didn't bite. I ripped it with my fingers,” he explained, in case Fearghas got any ideas about swapping saliva. “Apparently I bit my tongue when I was in the water. It still feels swollen and weird, so I'm trying not to aggravate it too much,” he rambled on.

  His crush stared back at him in surprise, then slowly dropped his own sandwich and took the half Sterling offered. He lifted off the top and smiled. “Cheese and pickle. That's my favourite,” he remarked, as though it was something wonderful.

  “Mine too.” He smiled back and lifted off the lid of his fruit salad. He grabbed the fork and tucked in, leaving a little bit of everything for Fearghas.

  “Thank you. I–” he stopped and tilted his head shyly, “I was a little embarrassed by what you said about our maid. I went home on my free period and told her I'd make my own sandwich,” he confessed, going on with a small smile before Sterling could apologise. “She just stood there laughing at me, the whole time.”

  The flush to his cheeks was adorable, but he didn't let it distract him. “I'm sorry I said that. I honestly didn't mean it the way it came across. I was just tired and sore. That's why I hate texting so much, because you can't really convey a tone or feeling, without a million emojis,” he admitted, though they would probably have helped during that particular conversation.

  Fearghas laughed out loud and nodded. “Yeah, it's kind of hard. I usually prefer to phone people, but since it was so early, I didn't think you'd be up,” he explained.

  Which made sense. Sterling nodded and smiled, appreciating and liking how easy it was to talk to him. “Well, I woke up really suddenly at like four, so I turned it on to play some games to tire myself out. Normally, I put it off when I get home. Once I'm home, I'm in for the night, unless there's a plan to go out in advance,” he rambled on.

  After a moment of silence, he realised what he'd said and how pathetic it made him sound. “I do have friends, just so you know. But I kind of like routine, so they know not to spring anything on me. Besides, me and Pops are close, so we have Movie Night on Monday and Pizza Night with my friends on Thursday, Tennis club on Tuesdays and Fridays–”

  A soft hand over his made him stutter to a stop.

  “It's okay.” Fearghas smiled at him. “I like routine too. It's part of being a sportsman, I guess. Tennis taught me a lot about discipline and preparation; I guess you probably learned it too.” He released Sterling's hand, removing the warm touch that
he'd come to like. “Who are your closest friends?”

  “Kenichi, Harrison, Karsyn...and the guys from the RPG group,” he answered, not sure why it mattered. He pushed his half empty fruit salad bowl towards Fearghas, who smiled and accepted the fork from him. “Freddie and Ginny are in the group, so they hang out sometimes, too. That's why I eat alone; they all go play their RPG during lunch on Monday's, so I come here for quiet reading time, since you're not allowed to eat in the library,” he continued, hoping that explained everything.

  He might be a loner loser, but he liked his life and he was happy with his group of friends. He liked getting his rare Monday lunch time alone, liked going home and kicking back, knowing that he wasn't going out again, or knowing what his plans were in advance. Maybe that was a bad thing, he wasn't sure. But he'd rather be himself than pretend to be someone else and end up miserable.

  “Why?” he asked, eventually.

  Fearghas was too quiet and it unsettled him. He didn't understand this sudden interest or why it mattered who he was friends with.

  His crush shrugged and looked around the cafeteria. “I've been getting more recognition for my tennis lately and, though dad was a sportsman, he was always really down to earth. He kind of pointed out to me recently that my friends might not actually be my friends,” he explained in a quiet, sad voice. He twirled a grape through the fruit salad juices with the fork and took a deep breath. “We went to the fairground together, about ten of us, and I went home after seeing you at the hospital. He asked why and I...I couldn't really say. I just thought about going back to the fairground and realised there was no point. Do you know what I mean?”

  When he looked up, his green eyes were so open and earnest that he wanted to swoon. Sterling smiled and leaned on his elbow to rest his head in his hand. “I think I do. Pops used to say that fake friends were worse than no friends, because they could make you feel bad about yourself, without you even noticing. They could hold you back, influence you, and you were just so happy to have friends that you never saw it coming when the shoe dropped,” he said, though he was grateful to never know that feeling for himself, because he had always followed his Pops advice and been true to himself.