Re-Education - 1. Chapter 1

The rest of July and the first two weeks of August flew by. With Jake away at West Point for his Summer Leadership Program, Josh taught all of us how to operate the equipment, survey land, and read blueprints. With his guidance, our project was well underway by the time school started. I was busy with the project, but Scott made several trips back to West Virginia to check in on the real estate office. James usually went with him, using the time to check on his dealerships. He did end up buying the RAM dealer who had treated us so poorly.

The night Jake got back, he came directly to the farm. The first night, he told us about his adventures and the hot guys he got to hang out with. Our conversation ended when Riva got off duty, and Jake rushed to join him for some private time. The next day, he joined us at the project site, and as we drove in, I noticed him staring at the spot where his brother had died.

Sensing his sadness, I nudged his shoulder and said, “He’s alive, dude.”

“I know,” he replied flatly as he continued to stare.

He made no other comment, and I knew better than to push. I could sense his emotions were a confused combination of sadness, grief, happiness, and anxiety, and I could only imagine the reasons for each. As he got more involved with the project, his sadness faded as he worked under his twin’s direction. I was relieved when the next day, as we drove by the same spot, he seemed to ignore it and continued his conversation with his twin.

With three days left before the start of school, we packed up and returned to West Virginia. We all had things to do to prepare for that. On the last evening before school, we were sitting in my living room when Jake dropped the bomb.

“There’s something I should have said when I first got home, My Lord—”

“What have I told you about that?” I snapped.

He shook his head. “Please, sir, I think it’s appropriate.” I nodded, so Jake took a breath and repeated himself. “There’s something I should have said when I first got home, My Lord. I told you most things about my time at West Point, but there is something I withheld. While there, I met a young vampire from Virginia.”

When Brian and Josh made crude remarks, Jake shook his head and said, “Nothing like that; Jon’s straight.”

“Well, if you’re not blowing him, then why did you mention him,” Josh asked with a smirk.

“If you’d shut up, I could tell you,” Jake snapped, and, like only a twin brother can, Josh quickly replied with an extended middle finger. Ignoring his twin, Jake explained, “I noticed Jon during hand-to-hand training. We were paired off, and we’d been at it for almost an hour. He let me take him down, and I noticed he wasn’t sweating. When we changed partners, I thought I’d test my theory.” He got an evil grin and continued. “I was about twenty feet away from him when I whispered that he should sweat. I knew my suspicions were right because he instantly soaked his shirt and glanced in my direction.

“He and I met up that evening and spent several hours talking. We met again and talked over things the following weekend. When he learned how close you and I are, he…” Jake seemed hesitant to continue. He took a breath, looked me in the eyes, and said, “I’ve called the Senator, My Lord. I have withdrawn my request to attend West Point.”

If a vampire could die from shock, Josh, Chris, and I would all be dead. No one spoke for several minutes until I finally asked, “I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but do you want to tell me what this Jon said to you to make you throw away all your plans?”

“Jon didn’t make me throw away my plans, Greg. He listened while I told him about Josh’s accident and the way it affected me,” Jake turned to his twin and, with a voice that reflected how severely the accident had affected him, said, “What I had to do with your leg, it, um, it got me thinking, and I started looking into medicine.”

“Ok, but doesn’t West Point have a medical program?” Scott asked.

“They do, but I would already be committed to four years in the army after school. The medical program adds anywhere from four to seven more years, and that’s after several years of residency.” Jake looked around and paused, making eye contact with each one of us before continuing. “If I go to West Point, I won’t be able to share my life with my brothers, and that’s not something I’m willing to accept.”

“What are you saying?” Billy asked. “Should I call Harvard? Or Johns Hopkins?”

Jake shrugged and looked at me. “I don’t know, Greg. Would my being a doctor be of any benefit to you as a baron? Or should I study something else?”

Before I could tell Jake that he should study what he wanted, Billy sat up straight and firmly stated, “You will study whatever you want, Jacob. We can determine your role in service to His Lordship when the time comes.”

I opened my mouth to agree when Jake replied, “With all respect, My Lord, my role should determine my education, not the other way around.” He turned to me and asked, “How can I serve you best?”

I looked at Billy and waited. He returned my look and asked, “What?”

“I figured since you’ve answered for me twice now, you’d want to take this one, too,” I said with a smirk.

“I’m sorry, Greg, I just—”

“I’m just busting your chops, Billy. You’re my Lord Steward; you’re doing your job, so keep doing it. You’ve already assigned Josh, Chris, and Brian their roles.” I waved toward Jake, “Tell Jake his.”

“As you wish, My Lord,” Billy replied. “Your original plan for going to West Point meant we would be without an adjutant until you graduated and finished your four years of service. If you’re certain you don’t want to attend West Point, and you refuse to study medicine, you can major in business administration.”

“So… I would be like Frederick is for George?” Jake asked.

Billy shrugged and said, “Yes and no.” When Jake raised an eyebrow, he went on. “Prince George manages all of North America, and as such, his adjutant needs to be familiar with international affairs as well as domestic issues. Greg is just a baron and will only have businesses to deal with.”

“So, the staff roles differ with the rank of the noble?” Josh asked.

“If Greg were a count or even a viscount, our staff would possibly need to handle international issues,” Scott explained. “Some viscounts in Central America, Europe, and Asia cover more than one nation; baronies rarely cross international borders.”

“Then I guess I’ll be at Harvard next year with the rest of you,” Jake said, determined to stay at my side.

After this conversation, Billy opened the safe and pulled out a manuscript that, up to this point, only he, Scott, and I had seen. We spent the next two hours going through the responsibilities and titles each of my friends would have. As baron, it would be up to me to name their titles based on where I was seated, so for now, they would have no titles. Since they had no jobs yet, that little issue didn’t matter.

The first day of school Tommy parked the Denali in the student parking lot and followed Scott and me inside. Adrian was standing by the entrance and gave me the slightest nod as we walked by him. Our first stop was the office to give them a copy of my emancipation paperwork and list James and Donna as my emergency contacts. After that, we separated for our classes. Even though Scott had his high school diploma from being home-schooled in Pennsylvania, he was enrolled as a junior and, as such, headed off to his English class while I headed to AP US History, where I met up with Brian, Chris, and the twins.

The staff had been briefed about Tommy, but we decided his presence inside the classroom might be distracting, so he stood outside the door. Mr. Winters took my late slip, offered his condolences for my father’s death, and pointed me toward the seat the guys had saved for me.

“Today, we embark on a journey through the early years of our nation. After the Revolutionary War, we witnessed the birth of the United States—drafting our Constitution, forming a government, and navigating the challenges of westward expansion and political evolution, a period known as the ‘Early Republic’ or ‘Founding Era.’ Mr. Fowler, would you please tell us who is considered the father of the Constitution.”

“James Madison is often referred to as the ‘Father of the Constitution’ due to his significant contributions, including the drafting of the Virginia Plan and his active participation in subsequent debates as the document was drafted. Other notable outspoken founding fathers were Roger Sherman, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Gouverneur Morris, and George Washington, who served as President of the convention. To clarify a point, Gouverneur was Mr. Morris’ given name, which often causes confusion,” I replied.

The discussion continued like this for the next hour. While our school had its share of ineffective teachers, it also had a group of incredible educators whose focus was the student. In general classes, they expected their students to need some help but have the ability to work independently most times. In the AP classes, we were treated like college students, called ‘Mister’ and ‘Miss,’ and expected to not only work independently but push the envelope.

Unfortunately, my next class was US Literature, and the teacher saw herself as just an overpaid babysitter. She told us to read the first five chapters of ‘Farewell to Arms,’ then proceeded to pull out a romance novel and kick her feet up. We all had received the reading list, and most of us had read the entire book, so I turned to Brian, and we started a quiet conversation about the conditions Fredric Henry experienced in Italy. Several other students joined in, and soon, most of the class was involved and intrigued, including those who typically didn’t participate in class.

In the lunchroom, Scott and the twins were already at the wrestler’s table when Brian and I showed up. No one said anything about my dad; they didn’t have to. Every single one had shown up for Dad’s memorial service and were the only ones I sensed genuine sympathy from. That was the biggest reason I hated what I had to tell them.

I sat down and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this guys; I’m meeting with Coach after school. I’m not going to wrestle this year; I simply can’t.”

The expected explosion of questions and arguments didn’t come; instead, I got an outpouring of support and understanding. When Ted, my likely replacement, asked why, I explained that between classes, stress from my father’s death, and the danger of being in a crowded gym during matches, I thought it was the best thing to do. Ted showed his friendship by suggesting I put off a final decision for a few weeks.

“I appreciate it, Ted, but my mind’s made up. Time will heal the pain of losing my dad, but the other stuff will still be there, dude.” I pointed at Tommy, “I can’t go anywhere without ‘agent K’ following me.”

Scott giggled while Tommy just glared. Jake asked, “Does this mean Leonard’s ‘J’?”

When everyone looked at me, I explained, “Like Jakey suggested, Leonard is Tommy’s partner, and he—”

“Dude, you mean like they’re queer?” Tyler asked.

Before I could answer, Ted said, “I’m so sick of your shit, Ty. First off, the word is gay, and second, no one cares who’s gay or not.”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t care if there was a queer—”

Ted’s fist interrupted Tyler’s reply, knocking him off his chair and onto his ass. Unfortunately, Mr. Pringle, the Vice-Principal, chose that moment to step through the door. “Is there a problem, Mr. Campbell?”

Tyler looked up as he stood and said, “No problem, sir. Ted and I were goofing off, and I slipped off my chair.”

Mr. Pringle looked around the table and asked, “Is that true, boys?”

We all nodded and agreed when Ted replied, “Yes, sir. Tyler slipped, and I was reaching out to catch him when I accidentally hit him.”

The skepticism was obvious on his face and in his voice as he said, “Well, gentlemen, I hope there won’t be any more slips, Mr. Campbell?” He turned to Ted and added, “Or accidental punches, Mr. Clark; am I understood?”

“Perfectly, Mr. Pringle,” Tyler said. He turned to Ted and added, “No more slips.”

Ted nodded. “No more accidents, Mr. Pringle.” After Mr. Pringle walked away, Ted turned to Tyler and asked, “What was it you were saying before you slipped?”

Ty looked around nervously, then said, “Promise you won’t kill me?”

“You’re entitled to your opinions, Ty. Speak your mind. Just be civil,” I said.

Knowing that my word was enough, Tyler said, “I was saying that I doubt you guys would feel comfortable with a…” he caught himself, “a gay guy in the showers with us.”

Josh laughed. “What makes you think there’s not one already in there, dude?”

I could sense Jake’s tension, but to his relief, Ted took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been looking for the right time to do this, so here goes.”

All eyes were on Ted as I asked, “Dude, are you sure you want to…”

Ted shrugged and replied, “I told Mom and Dad last week. We had a long talk, and when Dad asked if I was going to tell anyone, I said I was going to tell you guys soon.”

Tyler might not have been the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn’t the dullest either. He stared at Ted for a second, then said, “Dude, are you saying… are you… but you’re a wrestler?”

“And Michael Sam is an All-American defensive end who now plays for the Rams,” Ted replied. “Is that macho enough for you?”

“But he’s not in the locker room droolin’ over my dick,” Ty argued.

“Let me clue you in, Ty,” Jake said in a snide tone. “None of us are drooling over your little worm.”

“Be nice, Jake,” I warned.

Jake looked properly abashed, then looked at Ty and said, “Sorry, dude, that was low.”

“Anyway,” Josh offered, “It’s not the size of the wave but the motion of the ocean, and I haven’t heard Lisa complaining.”

“What can I say?” Tyler said with a shrug. “I’m a grower, not a shower; from what I’ve read, I’m actually average, and…” He turned to Jake, and we all realized the lights had just come on. “Did you just say…?”

Jake smirked and nodded. “If Ted can be honest, I can too. I didn’t actually say it, but I will now.” Jake looked around the table, making eye contact with each of our friends. “I’m gay.”

Everyone laughed when McKinley pulled out his wallet and gave Snyder ten dollars. Scott and I exchanged a glance, then a nod. I cleared my throat and said, “I think it’s time you all know that Scott and I are gay too, and we’re a couple.”

I was stunned when Snyder groaned and gave the ten back to a laughing McKinley. I was flabbergasted when Josh pulled out a twenty and gave it to a smiling Jake.

“Et tu Jacob?” I asked with a smirk.

“What?” Jake asked. “I knew you’d come out the second I did; why shouldn’t I make money on your predictability?”

Poor Tyler’s head was spinning. He was surprised when Ted came out, he was shocked when Jake came out, but he was totally gobsmacked when I did. He was staring at me with his mouth hanging wide open. Aside from Brian, Chris, and the twins, there were six other team members present, and it seemed that Tyler was the only one surprised we were gay. I would address that with each one individually; I needed to know if Tyler was going to be a problem.

In as calm a voice as I could, I asked, “Are we ok, Ty? And I don’t just mean you and me; I mean, are you going to be ok with Jake and Ted on the team?”

“I’m, um,” Tyler stammered, then looked around. “It’s a lot to take in, guys, I’m sorry.”

“We’re not asking you to sleep with us, Ty,” Jake said. “We’re not even asking you to stay friends with us. Just don’t disrespect us by talking to others about our private lives.”

Tyler looked as if Jake had slapped him; his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water. “Guys, I just need time to figure out how I feel about… I mean…” He turned to me and said, “You guys are my teammates. Even if I’m not comfortable about showering with you, I’ll deal with it, and I would never share your private lives without your say so.”

“That means a lot to me, dude,” Ted said, offering his hand.

There was a lot more we needed to say, but the bell rang, and our little meeting had to be adjourned so we could get to class. After the last bell of the day, I headed over to Coach Branson’s room, and that's where I bumped into a very nervous Ted, pacing in the hall.

“What’s up, bro?” I asked.

Ted looked down and said, “Trying to work up my nerve.”

“Need a wingman?”

He quickly looked up, surprised. “You’re going to tell him about you and Scott?”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it, but if I need to do it to support you, then I will.”

“You by my side is all the support I need, dude. Don’t out yourself for me,” Ted said just before he knocked and walked in ahead of me.

Coach Branson glanced up from his desk and asked, “What can I do for you boys?”

I looked at Ted and gave him an encouraging smile. He turned to the coach and, in a timid voice, said, “I need to talk to you about something, Coach.”

Coach’s attitude immediately changed as he realized one of his wrestlers had a personal issue. He stood and stepped around his desk and, in a concerned voice, asked, “Are you okay, Clark? Do you want Fowler to wait outside?”

“Greg’s here for support, Coach. I just need to let you know you might hear some rumors, and I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

Coach leaned against his desk and said, “If I did hear a rumor that doesn’t fit the man I know, I’d come ask you about it, Ted. You should know that.”

Ted nodded and said, “You might hear it at a bad time, and I’d rather you hear it now so I know how you’ll feel about me, about who I am, about what I am.”

“Son, I don’t care if you’re a vampire, werewolf, wizard, or the tooth fairy; your private life isn't my business. As long as you don't let it affect your grades or your performance with the team, we won't have any problems,” Coach said. Then added in a more sympathetic tone, “If anyone bullies you, you come to me, got it?”

I bit back a laugh as Ted said, “I’m not a vampire, Coach; I’m gay,” his voice a bit more confident than it had been a second earlier.

“Well, that’s different.” Ted’s face fell for a second until Coach continued. “I amend my statement. I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, transsexual, transgender, or any other letter of the alphabet; your private life isn’t my business. And I’ll stress the part where I said if anyone bullies you, you come to me; are we clear?”

“I just thought that—”

“You thought I was a macho, redneck homophobe like most people around here?”

Ted looked embarrassed and muttered, “Pretty much, Coach, yeah. Sorry.”

Coach Branson turned to me and asked, “How long have you known Ted’s secret?”

I looked at Ted, and when he nodded, I said, “He told the team today, at lunch when—”

“And you’re here to support him in case I went ballistic?” Coach asked.

“I’m here to support him because telling someone something this personal is stressful and very scary, and he’s a friend and teammate,” I replied.

Coach gave me a long, appraising look and said, “Sounds like you know what it’s like to come out.”

I nodded. “Yeah, Coach, I do know what it’s like to come out,” I paused and thought about what had been said, and the light came on. “And, if you don’t want to address this, please don’t, but I think you know what it’s like too.”

Coach stared at me for a long, uncomfortable few minutes; then I saw the slightest grin. “I prefer not to address that, Greg. Not because it’s none of your business, but because where we live, a gay teacher would last exactly twenty-four hours; a gay wrestling coach would last exactly sixty seconds.”

“And maybe even less time if two or three of his wrestlers came out,” I stated in a flat voice.

He looked from me to Ted, then asked, “Three?” He quickly shook his head and said, “No, don’t answer that.”

“I would never name names, Coach.” I looked him in the eyes and added, “Not anyone’s name.”

“We’re all on the same page then, boys,” Coach said with a nod and a smirk. “Was there anything else?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sure you’ve been notified that I have round-the-clock security due to something that happened over the summer?” I asked.

“I have, Greg, and like I said at the service, if there’s anything I can do for you, I’m here; you know that.”

“I appreciate it, Coach, I really do,” I said with a sad smile. “But between my father’s death and the threats to my life, I’ve decided not to come out for wrestling this year.”

Coach smirked. “Ironic choice of words, Greg.” Ted and I laughed. “As to what you said, first practice isn’t until November, so technically, I can’t say if you would even be on the team until that day. I appreciate you wanting to give me a heads-up but give it time. If you still feel this way in November, I’ll understand.”

“I understand, Coach. I guess we should be going; my boyfriend’s waiting for me,” I said.

Coach looked confused as he said, “I saw the twins drive away just before you knocked.”

Ted and I burst out laughing while Coach looked at us like we were insane. When I could breathe, I asked, “You thought one of the twins was my boyfriend?”

“Um, just go see your boyfriend, whoever he is,” Coach said, looking properly abashed. “And, ah… feel free to tell that hypothetical third team member everything we said in here.”

As I opened the door, I turned and said, “Third, fourth, who’s counting?” The coach was still laughing as we walked down the hall and out to the parking lot to meet Tommy and Scott at the Denali. We dropped Ted off at his place and then headed to Scott’s house. During our trips to the house in August, we had re-packed Scott’s books and set up the former library as a nursery and workspace for us to study for our high school and Harvard classes. We then got Tommy and Leonard settled into my dad’s old bedroom, Billy in Dad’s old office, and Jenny in my old room, well, my older room that had become Dad’s office.

The minute Scott and I walked in, Charlie looked up from where he was playing on the floor and started babbling excitedly and crawling toward us. Of course, he went straight for Scott. I just smiled as Scott swooped him off the floor, bit his own thumb, and offered it to our son. The image of my son smiling up at my mate assuaged any jealousy I had over being his second choice. He was already smart enough to know that after Daddy fed him, Dad was next. He fed from Scott for a few minutes, then turned his head, unlatching from Scott’s thumb, and reached his arms toward me. While I was feeding him, Billy walked in, and soon, he was holding our son, giving him his thumb.

After I passed Charlie to Billy, Scott and I went upstairs to start on our homework. Scott only needed an hour to deal with his high school work, and with that done, he turned to help me with mine. When Billy brought Charlie up at nine, we went through the feeding rotation again, adding mashed bananas or applesauce, and tucked our son into his bed.

With Charlie asleep, we logged into the Harvard website and spent the next five hours working on our college courses. As exciting as it sounds, this was our planned routine for the next nine months. High school classes from eight to four, head home to care for our son, do our schoolwork and grab three hours of sleep each night. Chris and Josh were doing the same thing, except they didn’t have a two-month-old son who, to the world, looked like he was roughly nine months old.

We had been back to school for five weeks when something happened, but before I tell you about that, I need to tell you about Alex Conners. Alex was a sophomore and had always been what most would consider effeminate and a nerd. He hated the sports that most people considered appropriate for boys. While the other boys were in Little League baseball, Pop Warner football, and USA Wrestling, Alex took gymnastics and ballet. In fifth grade music, Alex debated between flute and clarinet when the other boys explored trumpets, trombones, or drums. In seventh grade, Alex discovered cheerleading, and he was hooked.

On Tuesday of the first week of October, Ted came to me and said a few of the football players had been talking trash about Alex, and he thought they were planning something after Friday’s football game that went far beyond their usual comments. That night, I instructed Scott, Chris, and Josh to start focusing their ears on the football team as they wandered the halls and lunchroom. I had my answers by the time we gathered in Scott’s basement after school on Wednesday.

“Is this just the football jocks being their typical idiotic selves, or are these actual plans?” Jake asked.

“From what I heard, one of the JV benchwarmers called Alex a fag in algebra, and Alex made a smart-ass reply. Now they’re all upset that he stood up for himself, and they’re planning revenge,” Josh explained.

I looked around the room and asked, “So now the question we need to answer is what do we do and when do we do it?”

Chris asked, “Do we even know if he’s gay?”

“Does it matter?” Billy asked. When everyone was looking at him, he continued, “If you’re only willing to help him if he’s gay, doesn’t that make you as bad as the bullies?”

Embarrassed, we looked at each other, and then I said, “He’s right, and we all know it. So, I’ll ask again: what do we do and when?”

“The when part is simple; we can’t do anything until they do. Otherwise, we’re in the wrong,” Chris said.

“You’re saying we have to wait until they—”

Chris interrupted, “No, Jake, I’m saying if we do anything preemptively, it has to be non-violent, purely verbal.”

“And you want it to be physical?” Josh asked.

“Sometimes, it’s the only thing they’ll understand,” Chris argued.

“If you two are done,” Jake interrupted, “I wasn’t saying we should get violent before they do. I was suggesting we try diplomacy.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and asked, “Okay…?”

“Greg needs to meet with Anderson and explain why being a bully is a bad idea,” Jake said.

“And by explaining, you mean threatening?” Brian asked.

Jake shook his head and explained, “Threatening implies we would strike first. We need to explain that it would be in their best interest to refrain from bullying. If they fail to refrain, then a violent response is possible.”

Chris clarified, “As long as we don’t spell out what might happen if they fail to refrain from bullying, we are simply advising them to consider the possibility of consequences. If we actually say we will retaliate, some might call that a threat.”

I shook my head and looked at my friends. “You’re treating this like we’re negotiating peace in the Middle East rather than dealing with a bunch of high school students. They’re bullies, not terrorists.”

I felt a chill run down my spine as Jake said, “The only difference between the two is scale, Greg.”

Jake’s statement seemed to put an end to the conversation, and soon, our friends had gone home, leaving us to our night of study. I was reading ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ for my American Literature class at Harvard when Billy put Charlie in my arms. I bit my thumb, offered it to my son, and continued reading. I’d grown accustomed to the feeling of Charlie’s mind in mine as he fed, but tonight, I realized he was actually following the story as my mind processed it and considered the talking points we were to focus on. My son followed along as I explored the ethical dilemmas Huck faced regarding his relationship with Jim and the societal norms of the time. I watched as his eyes seemed to focus as I considered how Huck's actions challenged prevailing attitudes towards race and morality.

Satisfied with his feeding and his time in my mind, Charlie pushed my thumb from his mouth and reached for Scott. As I handed him over, I told Scott what I had experienced, and when Charlie started feeding, Scott and our son were studying Ethics in Finance. As I watched Charlie’s face, I discussed my observations with Scott and Billy. Billy argued that Charlie was simply absorbing the language as it seemed impossible that he could be aware of the topics. I replied that considering humans believed vampires to be impossible, we should consider all things possible. Scott and I agreed that our son was absorbing the language and information and would only need to review it later in his life to bring it to the surface. We were still debating this long after our son stopped feeding and settled down for his pre-dawn nap.

The next morning, we were approaching the parking lot at school when I was brought back to last night’s conversation. I saw four seniors on the football team following Alex toward the school, shouting things in his direction. Before Tommy could park, I watched my friends smoothly defuse the situation when Chris, Brian, and the twins intercepted the football players and engaged them in conversations. Scott got my attention and nodded toward the northeast corner of the lot. Standing by his car and watching the same events was Sam Anderson; senior, quarterback, and captain of the football team. He noticed us pulling in and headed our way.

“Morning, Greg,” he said with an insincere smile as he fell into step with us.

I acknowledged his greeting with a nod and a “Sam.”

Pointing ahead of us on the sidewalk, he asked, “Any idea what that was about?”

I shrugged. “Maybe they were offering to tutor your front line? I’ll have to ask them. Why? Did they interrupt something?”

“Naw, the guys were just havin’ a little fun with fagboy,” Sam said with a shrug.

“You guys seem to be on his back more than normal lately, Sam. What’s with that?”

“Why do you care, Greg? Is one of your mat rats secretly dating the little queer?”

I stepped in front of his path and stood with my nose inches from his. “IF they are, it’s none of my business, and it sure as hell isn’t any of yours. You need to get your goons to back down, Sam. Verbal abuse is bad enough, but if this keeps up, someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“I don’t know where you think you are, Fowler, but in this school, the football team runs shit. That little fag mouthed off to one of my guys, and he’s gotta learn his place. You and your rats need to stay in your lane.” He glanced at Tommy, then back to me. “Are you going to let me get to class? Or is your rent-a-cop going to claim that I attacked you and put me in cuffs?”

I shouldn’t have reacted, but I needed him to understand I wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. I took a step forward, bumping him hard with my chest and knocking him back a few steps. “I don’t need anyone’s help to handle a coward like you, Sam. I’m telling you one last time. Your goons need to back down.”

The fear I felt passing over him told me I might not have completely controlled my beast. He started to say something but was interrupted by the warning bell rang. He stepped around me, headed for the school, and muttered, “This didn’t change anything, Fowler.”

As we followed him, I realized the small ways each of us had mishandled this situation. Alex had been verbally abused since sixth grade, and there was zero chance those bullies would have done anything physical in plain view of the security cameras. By intervening in this minor skirmish, the guys had put Sam on edge. By letting Sam get my emotions involved in our conversation, I failed to give him a way to back off without losing face. Unless I could come up with a way to give him a win, we were headed for a showdown.