Chapter One - "Letter to a Friend"

Nick Duval was having a pretty good day.

First of all, it was Friday. After the grueling week he'd had (four tests and a friggin' paper!) this Dalton Academy eighth-grader was so looking forward to just vegging out in his room and watching Doctor Who DVDs the whole weekend. Just me and the TV. Sounds like a plan.

Second, Mr. Harman had handed back the Science tests today. He'd gotten a 98. Poor Buzz Walsh had only gotten a 96. Which put Nick one up on his Science-class rival. Sweet!

Third, it was fifth period. Lunch.

On his way to the dining hall, Nick decided to detour across the quad to the admin building. Walking across the polished marble floor, he passed under the wrought-iron chandelier in the opulent main entrance hall on his way to the rather less impressive student mail room.

Cool. He'd actually gotten something. Three envelopes.

Pulling on his red knit hat, he left Dalton Hall and stepped back outside into the bitter November afternoon. As he walked he started tearing open the largest. It was from Dalton. Another reminder to the boarding students that they had until November 14th to inform the Residential Life Office whether or not they would be remaining on campus for the upcoming Thanksgiving break. Thanks―already did, guys. BTW, I'm not. The second was an application for a Visa card. Jeez, I'm only thirteen; a little early, dontcha think?

The third was a cream-colored envelope with a computer-printed address label:

Nick Duval
c/o Dalton Academy
Poe Residence Hall
Edgerstoune Rd
Westerville OH 43081

Hmm. It wasn't from his mom or dad; they would've addressed it by hand. He turned it over; the return address was embossed on the back flap:

Sterling
27 Benjamin Trail
Fox Chapel PA 15238

Jeff?

Jeff Sterling and Nick Duval had been best friends since kindergarten. While Nick was in Ohio boarding at Dalton Academy, Jeff was back home in Pennsylvania attending the local junior high. His parents planned on sending him to private school (or military school, his father jokingly threatened, if Jeff didn't lose the attitude) for ninth grade. Last month, Jeff told Nick he'd applied to Dalton and the two boys had talked about how awesome it would be if he got in―in spite of the dorky uniforms.

Nick sat down on a marble bench, one of dozens scattered all over campus. A different Latin word was carved into the seat of each one. This particular bench was "Fraternitas": brotherhood.

He stared at the envelope. It was too weird. He and Jeff texted and e-mailed all the time. Why would Jeff write and mail a letter? Shrugging, he eased his thumb under the flap to tear―

"Hey, Duval!"

Startled, he looked up to see fellow middle-schoolers Cameron James, Andy Stewart, and Seth Wheaton walking down the sidewalk toward him. As usual, Seth was trying to play the part of the tough jock by wearing just his school blazer and a muffler around his neck instead of a winter coat like the rest of them.

"S'up, Brainiac," Cameron laughed as he playfully jerked Nick's hat down over his face.

Nick pushed the hat up out of his eyes, blowing fuzz off his lips as he smirked, "James, you are such a waste of flesh."

"Come on, man, let's hit the caf," Andy said as he dragged Nick to his feet. "Unless you wanna freeze your nuts off out here, sittin' on ol' Fraternitas."

"Dude, you shoulda seen it," a grinning Seth was telling Cam as they resumed walking. "I thought Walsh was gonna freak when Old Man Harman announced that our boy Nicky here got that ninety-eight!" he crowed.

Impressed, Cam whistled. "Nick the Man!" He held his fist out to Nick.

Nick bumped it, basking in the attention; he thought it was funny how their friends were more invested in the great "Duval-Walsh rivalry" than Nick and Buzz themselves.

Sitting down with their trays in the noisy dining hall, Seth told them Chuck Vollmer was going to tomorrow's Ohio State away game in Evanston. Which sparked a lively debate on how badly the Buckeyes were going to slaughter the Wildcats. Laughing, Nick joined in, spouting stats on the Ohio State defense.

He opened his backpack and slid the envelope inside his copy of Great Expectations. He'd definitely read it later during Math.

After school was finally over, Nick dragged his tired ass back to his room.

Dropping his backpack down by the door, he blew out a loud and disgusted deep breath. The afternoon had taken an interesting turn after his Math teacher had ambushed the class with a pop quiz. Pop quiz? More like a pop test! Totally not cool on a Friday.

Hey, you know what? It's whatever. The week of hell is officially over. His coat and blazer were quickly shucked. His hat came off with a crackle of static electricity and he winced as tiny shocks pinpricked his scalp. Glancing around, it looked like his roommate had already cleared out for the weekend. (Now that his parents had separated, Scott went home to Cincinnati every Friday to see his mom.)

As he unknotted his red-and-navy-striped tie, there was a little niggling thought in the back of his mind. Like he'd forgotten something. "I hate when this happens," he mumbled to himself, opening his laptop and double-checking his assignment schedule. C'mon, Duval, please tell me you didn't forget―

That was when he noticed his Droid sitting in its dock on the desk―with the little green light flashing. Crap. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind this morning.

After swiping the screen to unlock it, he saw: Missed calls: 5 - Voice messages: 3

All the calls were from the same number: Home

Nick scrolled through his contacts and hit the "Home" icon. His mother answered after the first ring. "Nick?"

"Yeah, Mom, hi. Sorry, I forgot my phone in my room and I just came in and―"

"Honey, did you listen to the messages I left?" She sounded kind of serious; normally she would have started off asking how his day had gone and if he was eating okay and other inane Mom-questions.

Even though she couldn't see him, Nick shook his head. "No. Why?"

"You need to come home, hon. Tonight. I've already spoken to the headmaster. You're booked on a flight to Pittsburgh and―"

"Whoa, Mom, slow down! What's wrong?" Nick interrupted. His mother's tone made him think about his father's high blood pressure and his stomach began to clench. "Is...Dad okay?"

"Dad is fine. It's nothing like that, don't worry," she assured him, her voice softening. "Now, the flight leaves at five-ten, so you have to hurry." (Uh, ya think? Nick's brain quipped as he glanced at the time: 3:19pm.) "You don't need to pack. Mr. Donaldson said he'll have one of the teachers drive you to the airport, so―"

Screw Mr. Donaldson! "Mom," Nick said, his voice rising in pitch as he repeated, "what's wrong?"

There was a pause, then: "Honey, please don't worry because he's going to be all right, but...Jeff's been hurt."

WHAT?! "How bad?"

"He'll probably have to stay in the hospital overnight, but he is okay. Don't worry."

Just answer me! "Please stop saying 'don't worry'! What happened?" Nick nervously ran his free hand through his hair.

Another pause. "I think he wants to tell you himself."

What the hell? "Are you kidding me?" When had he beamed into a bad Star Trek episode? Like those times the captain was off the bridge when something happened; he'd call for a report only to have some idiot respond with something like "Duh...you need to come and see this for yourself, sir" instead. If he'd been Kirk or Picard or Sisko, he've gone and seen―then kicked the ass of whoever hadn't given him a straight answer. You paying attention, Mom?

"Uh, Nick, hold on...Mr. Donaldson just texted me. Mr. Sawyer is waiting for you outside your dorm. I'm sure the traffic in Columbus'll be bad this time of day, so you better get going. See you soon."

"Right, okay, Mom," he said abruptly and hung up the phone, trying to keep back his emotions. Get a grip. Just get a grip.

For no reason, he took his tie and stuffed it in his pocket along with his cell. Then picked up his backpack (again, getting that weird feeling he was forgetting something, but there was no time to worry about that now), threw in his iPod, zipped it closed and slung it over his shoulder.

His grip was failing fast. Grabbing his blazer and overcoat on the way out, he locked the door behind him and ran for the stairs.

Nick sat silently in the back seat nervously jiggling his leg as the car passed through the main gate and onto the road to Westerville. Mr. Sawyer had given up trying to talk to him after three attempts at conversation went unanswered.

His mind was whirling. Great day to forget your phone, you idiot! Jeff's "been hurt" she said. Hurt how? And how bad? Bad enough that I'm flying home. Bad enough that he's in the friggin' hospital. But she said he's gonna be okay. And he wants to tell me what happened himself. What the hell is that all about? Unless...

Did he try to...hurt himself? A chill ran down Nick's spine and prickled through his whole body.

Jeff had come out during the summer. First to Nick, then to his family―who, thank God, had been totally accepting and supportive. He'd told their friends two months ago, on the first day of school, with mixed results from what Nick had been told. But the taunts and cold shoulders that started when the word had spread were minor and manageable. Besides, as the man himself would say, Jeff Sterling didn't take no shit off nobody; he wasn't gonna let a few random assholes get him down.

Had something changed?

With a lump rising in his throat, Nick called Jeff's phone. He could've had it with him, even in the hospital, right? It went right to voicemail. He tried again. Same thing.

He started texting. Sent ten, each one a little more insistent than the one before, starting with Sup dude? and ending with Pick up ur fucking fone RITE NOW u jerk!

No reply. Shit.

Nick pulled out his tie, slipped it around his neck, and concentrated on tying it properly to keep his mind off freaking out. Looking out the car window, he was relieved to see signs for Port Columbus International Airport. That is, until they rounded a bend and ran into a red sea of slow-moving tail lights stretching down I-270 as far as he could see.

Mr. Sawyer swore softly under his breath.

After finally reaching the airport―freakin' traffic!―Nick and his teacher hustled through the terminal. They were escorted through security in record time and Nick nervously paced during the short wait at the gate. He tried Jeff's phone again. Still no answer. Then a smiling airline representative came over and directed him to board the plane ahead of the other passengers.

A flight attendant named Kaitlin showed him to his seat. She fussed over him, taking his coat and making sure he was properly buckled in. Nick tried to smile but all this special attention was really getting on his nerves. All he wanted was to get home and find out WHAT THE FUCK was going on.

Chill, Nicky boy, just chill...

Finally, the plane was taxiing away from the terminal. While Nick wasn't afraid to fly, take-offs didn't exactly thrill him. He checked to make sure no one was watching, then unzipped his backpack and pulled out his iPod. He didn't care about the rules; he needed to relax, to lose himself in some tunes.

After jamming in his ear buds, he dialed up a song from his playlist at random: Bon Jovi's "I Am". Nick smiled. He'd driven Jeff crazy over the summer by playing the Have A Nice Day album on constant repeat. Alternating with the classic Slippery When Wet, of course.

"How you spend your minutes are what matters
All tomorrows come from yesterdays
When you're feelin' broke and bruised
And sometimes shattered
Blow out the candles on the cake
Like everything's a big mistake"

As the plane began accelerating down the runway, he closed his eyes. His mind began to wander and he remembered how he and Jeff met...

...when they were five, and his daddy's job had gotten way bigger and he was now gonna go to work in a place called Pittsburgh. So, during the summer time, Nick's family moved from Texas to Pennsylvania. Nick was super excited about seeing real snow for the first time in his life this winter. But also really scared about starting school next month in a new place where he didn't know anybody.

Nick sat on the front porch, trying to stay out of the way as the mover-men carried stuff into the new house. He was holding the Buzz Lightyear action figure that was his best friend now. He looked over at the house next door―and saw someone there looking back at him.

It was a boy: his age, skinny, with a light blond crew-cut. He was crouched down on his own porch, peeking through the railing as he stared at Nick.

Nick, who was really really shy around strangers, blushed and ran inside.

When his mommy took Nick to the first day of kindergarten, the same boy was there and assigned the seat next to him. His name was Jeff S. and he had on a Buzz Lightyear shirt. He smiled a big smile with one tooth gone and Nick smiled back...

"It seems you always wait for life to happen
And your last buck can't buy a lucky break
If all we've got is us, then life's worth livin'
And if you're in, you know I'm in
I'm ready and I'm willin'
I am"

...when they were seven, and Nick was shoved around a lot on the playground because he was smaller than most of the other boys. He was starting to really hate recess.

Stuart Slater was being a bigger jerk than normal today and he'd just pushed Nick off his swing. Nick hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could do anything, Jeffy came barreling over, screaming, "I got yer back, Nicky!"

Then Jeffy tackled Stuart to the ground and pinned him down until Stuart told Nick he was sorry. But after recess Jeffy was the one who got put on the time-out chair. No fair! Nick felt guilty, but Jeffy just hummed to himself and stuck his tongue out at mean old Mrs. Masonis when she wasn't looking...

"When you think that no one needs you
Sees you or believes you
No one's there to understand
I am

"I'll be there to be that someone
When you think that no one
Is there to hold your hand
I am"

...when they were ten and Jeff's father took their Cub Scout troop camping. After a busy day of activities, the guys were ready to hit the sack. When they were sure everyone else was asleep, Nick and Jeff snuck off.

After hiking along the shore of the lake for about a quarter of a mile, they decided to stop. Sitting Indian-style on a flat-topped boulder, Jeff took out his Swiss Army knife as he directed Nick to sit opposite him. He then pulled out the largest blade and made a small cut in the palm of his own right hand first, then Nick's. They pressed their bleeding palms together as they clasped hands, Jeff saying all serious-like how they were blood brothers―now and forever.

Then, Nick spoke a few words in Klingon. After he explained he'd just performed R'uustai, the bonding ritual that united their two houses, Jeff just laughed. "Same difference, you big dork!" he smirked as he ruffled Nick's hair...

"We're just who we are, there's no pretendin'
It takes a while to learn to live in your own skin
Say a prayer that we might find our happy endin'
And if you're in, you know I'm in
I'm ready and I'm willin'
I am"

...when they were thirteen and, after his first year away at Dalton Academy, Nick came home for the summer to find his best friend all quiet and weird.

The first thing he'd done was go next door to the Sterlings. After a big hug from Jeff's mom, Nick ran upstairs to Jeff's room. He'd braced himself for the usual tackle-hug and stream of excited chatter, but Jeff just sat there, saying hello and not much else. It got so awkward that Nick, hoping to get a laugh, joked about him please not going emo because there was no way Jeff could ever rock dyed-black hair.

Jeff didn't even smile. He told Nick he'd be okay, that he had to work his head around something.

This went on for days. No jokes. No smart-aleck remarks. No horsing around. This wasn't normal. (Normal Jeff was kind of like Chandler from Friends―if Chandler had also had a temper and a major 'tude at times.) When Jeff started avoiding him, Nick got scared. His seventh-grade health class at Dalton had included lectures on teenage depression, self-harm, and suicide. And Jeff was fitting the profiles.

"When you think that no one needs you
Sees you or believes you
No one's there to understand
I am

"I'll be there to be that someone
When you think that no one
Is there to hold your hand
I am..."

Nick wasted no time confronting Jeff, cornering him alone in the Sterlings' pool house. And Jeff—who never had a problem speaking his mind―got all red-faced and stuttery. Looking down at the ground with watery eyes, he told Nick that he'd been afraid to tell him what was going on 'cause he didn't know how Nick would react...and that he couldn't stand it if he lost his best friend 'cause they'd never talked about anything like this before...so he didn't know if Nick would hate him because...

...he'd started to think that he might be...kinda...gay.

After about five seconds of silence, the quiet and sensitive Nick reached out...and whacked Jeff on the back of the head. "There's nothing in the world that could ever make me hate you, you jerk!" His eyes welling, he went on, saying it didn't matter to him if Jeff wanted to fuck boys or girls or Klingon targs; to him, he would always be "just Jeff"―his best friend in the multiverse.

The tears Jeff had been fighting started to flow and Nick pulled him into a tight hug. "Y-you big dork," Jeff whispered into Nick's shoulder―then suddenly and inexplicably cracked up. When he said it was because this was the first time he'd ever heard Nick say "fuck" out loud, Nick started to laugh as well...

"This ain't a song for the broken-hearted
No silent prayer for faith departed"

Huh?

Nick's head jolted up after his brain realized he was listening to the percussive intro to "It's My Life". And that he'd been napping for about half an hour. He looked out the window and saw a cluster of lights that was some town in eastern Ohio gleaming in the darkness below.

As Nick stretched his legs, he accidentally knocked over his backpack; he'd left it unzipped and his school books spilled out. Smooth, you klutz.

Then he saw it. What he'd forgotten.

The unopened envelope. From Jeff. Sticking out of Great Expectations.

Nick slid it free and placed it on his tray table. He just stared at it, chewing on his lower lip. Could it be a...suicide note? Sorry, best buddy and life-long pal, but life sucks and I've decided to off myself...

He felt his stomach twist into a knot. So not funny, Duval.

No. Not a letter. That wasn't Jeff's style. When he did something, he did it big. And loud. And obnoxious. Like the way Jeff told him he'd come out to their friends on the first day of school...

...the guys had decided to eat lunch outside on the bleachers. Halfway through he'd stood up and turned his back to them. "There's something I want to tell you guys, but y'know I'm not real good with words, so..." After unzipping his hoodie, he spun back around, pulling it wide open to reveal a custom-made graphic tee: Yo! Listen up, bitches―I'M GAY! printed in rainbow-striped sixties-style psychedelic letters.

Nick had been sitting in his Math class at Dalton when the guys back home started blowing up his phone. Text after text after text, all saying something like Did u kno Jeff is gay? Then a picture arrived, courtesy of Glen Karlsons, showing a smirking Jeff wearing that shirt while saluting the camera with his middle finger. Nick actually facepalmed himself. He worried that Jeff had been too crazy, that there'd be some kind of backlash―

―and you're stalling...just open it.

He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents: two folded sheets of cheap ruled paper―like the kind they used in grammar school―with words in school-child cursive written in pencil. WTF? He put on his glasses.

It was a letter. Written by Jeff's eight year old sister Jane.

Nov 1st, 2008

Dear Nicky,

How are you? I hope school is good. After he visited you Jeffy said that Dalten looks like Hogwarts. That is so cool. Did you know since you let your hair grow long you look like Harry Potter when you ware your glasses and your school jacket? I hope you have an owl so you can get my letter. Ha ha!

We all miss you. Specialy Jeffy. Why do you go to school all the way in Ohio? Jeffy says it's because Dalten is alot nicer than his is. I guess he's right because he always is saying his school sucks. (BTW Jeffy says that is not a sware word.)

It is Make A Diffrence Week at school. We have to bring in can food and clothes for the home-less. My teacher wants us to write a letter to a person who can make a diffrence in the world. Most of my friends wrote the President to ask him to fix the country so that all kids in the USA have food and a place to live. My BFF Molly is writing to the Pope in Italy and asking him to stop the War because her brother Rick in the Army is in a dangerus place called I-rak.

I wrote a letter to the President for homework. But I also wrote this one to ask for your help. Dont tell Jeffy. He woud get mad if he found out.

He finished the first page, more than a little puzzled. Though Jeff's baby sister treated Nick like a second brother, he couldn't figure out how or why Janey thought that he, a thirteen-year-old dork from western Pennsylvania, could help make a "diffrence" in the world?

The second page answered everything.

Jeffy doesnt smile or tell jokes anymore. He is sad all the time and cries when (he thinks) no one can see. Jen and Jill tell him to call you about what's going on or they will. But he shouts at them and says don't tell Nicky about this stuff or he will kick their butts. (He didnt say stuff or butts. You can guess what he really did say I bet.)

You guys are BFF, Nicky. Please come home. It woud make a big diffrence if Jeffy had one friend here who won't punch him because he is gay.

Your next door little sister,

Janey Sterling XOXOXO

P.S. I printed the address sticker for Dalten from Jeffy's computer. Don't tell.

The bottom half of the page contained a child's crayon drawing of a face. A frowning boy with light yellow hair and a tear drop falling from his right eye.

The left eye had an ugly purple circle scribbled around it.

Oh, God.

Nick sat there, feeling like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.

He'd had no idea. Why hadn't Jeff told him? Why hadn't any of his old friends told him? And, for that matter, where the hell were Glen and Keith and Danny during all this? Or had they joined the mother-fucking assholes that were kicking the shit outta―?

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. "Sweetie, are you okay?" The flight attendant was looking down at him with a concerned expression. It wasn't until he heard a faint tap...tap-tap sound that Nick realized tears were spilling down his cheeks and dropping onto the paper in his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Ducking his head, Nick blindly tore open his seat belt with one hand. Gripping the letter in the other, he sprinted for the bathroom. After securing the latch, he half-sat, half-slid down on the floor.

He slammed his fist into the wall. An innocent freakin' third grader had had to tell him his best friend was in crisis. He felt sick to his stomach.

After another look at Janey's picture, he lost it―

Oh my God ohmygodOHMYFUCKINGOD! Why didn't I know 'cause I shoulda known something was wrong with my best friend. I talked to him like all the time and the jerk never said anything (except there was some shoving and a couple kids called him "fag" and once someone tripped him in the caf) but never anything about punching or bruises and all his texts were jokey and funny

and THEY PUT HIM IN THE HOSPITAL and how bad was he hurt and WHY can't he ever admit he needs help I mean he almost failed Math in the fifth grade before he told me

and he knows I joined the Gay-Straight Alliance at Dalton this year (and did I ever ask if there was one at his school) and did we ever talk about The Trevor Project 'cause I shoulda given him the number 'cause what if he NEEDED the number 'cause he didn't wanna talk to me 'cause he ALWAYS fucking protected me from bullies

and what am I doin' off at Hot-Shit Academy while my best friend's getting fucking WHALED ON because he like-likes guys and what's fucking wrong with that 'cause he never fucking hurt anybody and―oh, crap―

He lunged for the toilet as he literally lost his lunch.

After he was all puked out, Nick gradually became aware that someone was knocking on the door. "Are you all right in there?" a deep male voice was calling. After a brief pause, there was another fusillade of knocks, then: "Son, I need you to unlock this door. Now."

Nick tried to pull himself together. "Just a minute," he replied, his voice hoarse.

He slowly got to his feet and looked at himself in the tiny mirror over the sink; his tear-stained face was swollen and his hair was sticking out in every direction. After trying to make himself as presentable as possible, he opened the door.

Standing outside was a tall man in a uniform who must have been the co-pilot or something; Kaitlin the flight attendant hovered behind him looking worried.

The man scoped out the tiny lavatory then stared intently at Nick. "Son, are you okay?"

Probably thinks I've been cutting or something. When he finally nodded, the man said, "Better take your seat, young man. We'll be starting our descent into Pittsburgh in about five minutes."

Nick trudged back to his seat hugging himself. It felt like everyone was staring at him.

Screw you all. Just get me home.

Standing in the emergency room, Nick remembered how much he hated hospitals. Biting his lip, he just stared at the curtains drawn around the treatment bay the nurse had led him to. Finally, he took a deep breath and stepped inside the wall of fabric.

Jeff was resting, his eyes closed. The hospital bed was adjusted so that he was practically sitting upright.

His left eye was blackened and swollen almost shut. A bandage covered his nose. He had a busted lip and angry splashes of purple and red dappling his forehead and jaw. His right arm was casted and in a sling. And, though wrapped in gauze, Nick could see the knuckles of Jeff's hands were bruised and raw; he hadn't gone down without a fight.

Nick felt his eyes burning. Oh, God. His breath hitched.

Jeff must've heard him; he opened his eyes and murmured, "Nicky..."

"Hey," Nick said in a small voice, quickly brushing any tears away with his fingertips.

"Fix yer tie, Dalton boy, or iss ten demerits," Jeff kidded. Between the fat lip and the pain medication, his speech was slurred. "Y' look like shit."

Nick automatically adjusted his loosened tie. Trying to keep things light, he quipped, "Look who's talking."

"Yeh. Guess ya know wha' happened. Iss not as bad as it looks. You shoulda seen th' udder guys." The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile.

Nick sat down in the bedside chair and forced a smile. "I'll bet."

"Hafta stay t'night...sumpin 'bout obs'vation. Leas' I gots me a few days offa school...an' some pretty awesome drugs." A hollow chuckle. "Jus' fer bein' a gay punchin' bag."

Nick's stomach twisted. "I-I'm sorry, Jeff. I shoulda been here..."

"Doan be stupit. Thass why I dinnit wan' y' t' know." Jeff raised his head, trying to focus on Nick's face. "I...I let 'em get t' me, Nicky. Punched tha' dickhead Stu Slater fer callin' me a..." His voice cracked. "...'bout a month ago. Thass when they started..."

Nick had spoken with Jeff's sisters in the waiting room. Jen and Jill had told him everything Jeff hadn't. How things at school had started with name-calling and shoving the day after he'd come out to the guys there. And, when Jeff dared to blast back with some smart-ass insults of his own, how the fuckers had stepped up their game—endless rounds of taunting and vicious locker-slams and the like. Until the short-tempered Jeff cracked and lashed out at the ringleader.

That's when the fists had started flying. Like the bullies, in their twisted reasoning, had all the excuse they needed to really punish Jeff once he'd decked Stuart Slater. To put the "little faggot" in his place. Jeff being Jeff, he'd tried to deal with it on his own, not telling his parents, hiding the bruises with concealer and sunglasses and stuff.

And as for Glen and the rest of their friends, they'd tried to step up. But when harassed and asked if they had turned gay, too, they'd suddenly made themselves scarce...

Jeff laid his head back on the pillow. "Wussen too bad a' firs'. Jus' normal fights. T'day...bunch of 'em ganged up on me...locker room affer gym...said I wus look'n a' their junk." He made an amused noise. "They wish." His eyelids began to droop. "Mm so tired..."

"It's okay, I'll be right here." Nick gently gripped Jeff's free hand, avoiding his split knuckles.

"Mmm-hmm. Mm glad." Jeff turned his head and looked at Nick with drug-glazed hazel eyes. "Y'know...missed ya, y' big dork..."

"Me, too."

He closed his eyes. "Mm gonna sleep now. Doan go 'way," he mumbled, sounding five years old again.

Nick sat there, trying to hold it together. He wasn't going to fall apart, not here. Blinking back his tears, he remembered the song on the plane and started to sing in a quavering voice.

"When you think that no one needs you
Sees you or believes you
No one's there to understand
I am"

As he continued, his voice steadied and richened in tone. Jeff made another amused sound and mumbled something Nick couldn't make out. Probably something sarcastic about Bon Jovi; Jeff didn't quite...appreciate the group as much as Nick did.

"I'll be there to be that someone
When you think that no one
Is there to hold your hand
I am

"And I ain't got no halo hangin' over my head
I ain't gonna judge you, I'm just here to love you
I am
I aaaam..."

Nick gently squeezed Jeff's hand after the other boy finally drifted off. I've got your back now, buddy. More than you know.

William Duval, a prominent Dalton alum, had made several urgent calls that afternoon to the headmaster and director of admissions at his alma mater on behalf of the Sterlings. It turned out Jeff's application had already made the first cut. The next step would be a formal interview. Nick had no idea how he'd done it, but his dad had gone and pulled every string pullable to get Jeff enrolled immediately mid-semester.

He shifted in the chair, making himself more comfortable. Tomorrow, he'd get to tell Jeff that as soon as he was better he'd be going to Dalton―with its uniforms and curfews and rules and traditions that he was gonna absolutely hate.

Yeah, Nick mused, tomorrow was gonna be a pretty good day.

Three weeks later, Nick was freezing his nads off waiting outside Edgerstoune Hall. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving break. Uniformed boys were pouring out of the dormitory, chattering and laughing on their way to the dining hall for breakfast.

Jeez, man, come on already!

Of course Jeff was the last one out. He was talking with a sophomore named Wes Montgomery. The tall Asian boy had been assigned to be Jeff's "big brother" during his orientation.

Jeff's arm was still in a cast. The bruises were fading from his face and his nose had healed with a barely noticeable bump that he insisted made him look all rugged and sexy. Like a blond Hugh Jackman. Nick had laughed until his sides hurt when he'd first heard that delusion.

Seeing Nick waiting, Wes smiled and moved off―but not before giving Jeff a friendly farewell clap on the back. It almost broke Nick's heart when he saw how Jeff still flinched whenever someone touched him unexpectedly.

It'll pass. As soon as he gets it in his head that he's safe here.

Dalton Academy was known throughout the Midwest for its high scholastic standing and was always ranked in the top twenty-five on all the "Best Private Schools in the Country" lists. It also boasted a strictly-enforced zero-tolerance harassment policy, meaning there was no discrimination, no bullying, and no fighting allowed. Sure, teenage boys being teenage boys, there was a little generic trash talk and some harmless pranks. But nothing racial or homophobic―and certainly nothing like what Jeff had experienced―would ever occur on this campus. The policy was drilled into the head of every new student the day he arrived.

Nick made a point of looking Jeff up and down, checking that his uniform was perfect. No need for him to get demerits on his first day. Knowing Jeff, he'll start racking 'em up soon enough.

"You're late," Nick huffed, giving Jeff the hairy eyeball.

Jeff stuck out his tongue. "Sor-ree! That Wes guy can really talk."

"You'll really be sorry when there's nothing left but toast. There's, like, four hundred guys ahead of us now thanks to you."

"Forty-five grand a year and I can't get a decent meal on my first day of classes?" Jeff rolled his eyes. "What a rip-off!"

Nick couldn't hold back his smile. "You get used to it. Welcome to Dalton Academy, Mr. Sterling."

Jeff reached inside his blazer and pulled out a pair of authentic Men In Black Ray-Bans. "With all due respect, Mr. Duval, your academy sucks!" he proclaimed as he one-handedly whipped open the sunglasses and put them on.

This is gonna be interesting, Nick thought as he slipped on his own Ray-Ban Predators. Wonder if these are on the dress code? Oh, well...as the Doctor would say: allons-y! He stepped aside and, with an exaggerated flourish, gestured for Jeff to start walking. "After you, you jerk."

Jeff stuck his nose up in the air as he said, "Why, thank you, you big dork."

The two boys laughed as they set off across the campus.

NEXT UP: Freshman year and the arrival of Blaine Anderson...

A/N: I know some readers will think that this story should be Blaine Anderson's, but I belong to the camp that believes that Blaine's Sadie Hawkins Dance experience was much worse that this...

Regarding the OC's, I see Brock Baker as Cameron James, Nathan Kress as Andy Stewart, and Lucas Till as Seth Wheaton.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is certainly appreciated. Please review.