Re-Education - 2. Chapter 2

Lunch that day was interesting, to say the least. None of our human friends knew what the football team had planned for Alex, except Jake and Brian, of course, but they could all feel the tension. Naturally, this caused them to ask questions about our less-than-stellar mood. Fortunately, Jake is great at thinking on his feet, which is another way of saying he’s amazing at coming up with a believable story in a matter of seconds. After he explained how he had heard two of the football players talking in one of the restrooms, everyone was chomping at the bit to tackle the football team. Even Tyler seemed to forget his homophobia to the point that we had to physically restrain him when one of the defensive ends came by our table to ask about some homework. Once he was gone, I asked Ty about it.

“Alex and I are neighbors,” Ty said with his head hanging. I could sense his shame, but even without my gift, it was obvious in his voice. “Alex was my first friend, and we were inseparable from the day our mothers brought us home from the hospital.”

“You guys were born at the same time?” Ted asked.

Ty burst out laughing. We all stared until he regained control of himself and explained, “We were both learning how to ride without training wheels at the same time. He got it right away, damn him and his amazing sense of balance. I, on the other hand, lost all control and was headed straight for the main road. Both our dads ran to catch me, and before it was done, my dad tripped and fell, breaking his arm while Mr. Conners had caught up to me. Unfortunately, when he reached for my bike, he tangled his hand in my wheel and broke three fingers.”

We all laughed, and when it quieted down, I said, “That still doesn’t explain the two of you coming home from the hospital together.”

With a shrug, Ty said, “Alex’s mom is a nurse and was working at the hospital while my mother was shopping, so me and Alex had to ride in the back of a police car following the ambulance to the emergency room. Luckily, Mrs. Conners met us and sat with us until Mom could come pick us and our dad’s up.”

We all wanted to ask, but we knew Ty had to work through his issues on his own, so we waited. Ty looked at Ted with a tear in his eye as he went on. “I don’t want to go into it, but something else happened to me when I was six, the Christmas after the stuff with the bikes happened. At that age, I didn’t understand what being gay was or anything; I just liked hanging out with Alex. He could climb trees like no one else, and he had absolutely no fear.” He paused and got an amazing smile on his face, then continued, “I remember him climbing to the very tip of that huge oak tree in my yard, then jumping onto our roof. I ran to tell Dad to get his ladder, but typical Alex, before we got the ladder up, he had jumped back to the tree and climbed down to help us set up the ladder.

“Anyway, when puberty hit, I started to understand what a… well… sorry, but when I started to understand what my dad meant when he said he thought Alex was a fag, I got scared. With what my uncle—" Ty froze, looking around, afraid we’d judge him. Seeing nothing but concern, he went on. “With what happened and knowing that Alex preferred gymnastics and all that girly stuff, I turned my back on him. I knew I wasn’t like that, and I didn’t want him to, um, make me do stuff like my uncle.”

Without hesitation, Ted put his arm around Tyler’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. “You don’t have to say anything else, dude. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

We all expected Ty to push him away, but he didn’t. He let the tears flow as he quietly said, “That doesn’t excuse how I pushed him away, how I turned my back on him.” He pulled away to look Ted in the eyes and added, “And it sure as hell doesn’t excuse my reaction to you trusting us with something so personal. I can’t imagine how scary it must’ve been for you to open up to us, and I acted like a jerk. Can you forgive me?”

Ted grinned. “Of course I can forgive you, dude. But we are not kissing and making up!”

Tyler burst out laughing, and that broke the somber mood. Ty just had time to wipe his eyes and pull himself together before the bell rang, ending our lunch period. I told everyone I wanted to try one more time to convince Anderson to back off, and Tyler said he needed to get with Alex and beg his forgiveness for treating him so poorly all these years. He was surprised when I asked him to wait until all this was sorted out but agreed when I explained that if Anderson and his goons refused to back down, we needed to catch them red-handed to finally put an end to their bullying.

Unfortunately, Sam Anderson refused to talk to me. It was easy for him to avoid me for the rest of the day, as we shared no classes. At the end of the day, he went directly to the football field for practice. Friday morning, he was already parked and inside when we arrived. By lunchtime, I knew there was no avoiding this confrontation. When we met after school Thursday evening, we spent a few hours trying to figure out how to make this work without revealing any supernatural abilities and came up with an explanation for everything we could imagine happening. I knew in my heart that we hadn’t considered all the possibilities and hoped that between Scott, Josh, Chris, Billy, and myself, we would be able to quickly enthrall anyone who noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Classes on Friday ended like they did every Friday during the football season, with a pep rally. The entire school assembled in the gym as the band played, the cheerleaders cheered, and the football team strutted around in their jerseys on the gym floor. I had seen Alex in his role as a cheerleader for two years now, but for the first time, I actually saw him. While there was more than a hint of femininity in his mannerisms, he was an amazing specimen of masculinity. His tight uniform did little to hide his toned body, and the way he lifted the girls onto his shoulders, tossed them into the air, and subsequently caught them, there was no doubt his body was as toned and built as any of the guys on our wrestling team.

As soon as we were released, Scott and I rushed home to feed Charlie. With that done, I sat with Tommy, Leonard, Adrian, and Serena, telling them what we knew about the football team’s plans and our plans to protect Alex. Adrian and Serena would be there in their role as resource officers and would likely be stationed near the fieldhouse. If our information was correct, they would be in an ideal location to help. Tommy and Leonard would be unable to step in and help unless someone made an unprovoked attack on me, but their additional eyes and ears would still come in handy, we hoped.

We arrived at the game and headed for the bleachers. Every game since our freshman year, Chris, Brian, the twins, and I had sat together, along with most of the wrestling team. Tonight, we spread out so we could listen to conversations and try to gain more details of what to expect. We knew the team couldn’t do anything before or during the game without risking the game itself, so we knew the attack would happen after the clock hit zero, and likely in the locker room where Alex would join the team to change out of his uniform. The biggest hole in our intel was how they expected to get away with a physical attack with one of the coaches present. We got that last bit of information during the third quarter when the band was taking their break.

Everyone knew Coach Whiteman was a predator who preyed on several of the freshman girls, and some even younger. A few girls had come forward several years ago, but the community chose to focus on his winning record and supported him, refusing to believe his victims and standing behind the man, all but running the families of these brave girls out of town. Knowing this, several of the football players had asked their girlfriends to intercept him on the way to the locker room after the game and delay him by flirting with him. The other two coaches had sons or daughters who also conspired to assist the team by trying to pull their fathers aside, giving the team some time alone in the locker room with Alex.

Now that we knew how they planned to make it happen, I hoped our plan would work. At worst, we would intervene before Alex was severely injured. When the clock hit two minutes, the wrestling team stood and made our way to the general area of the field house, with Chris, Josh, Scott, and I leaning against the concrete less than ten feet from the locker room door. We watched as the clock hit zero, and the team ran victorious off the field and toward the door to our right. As we had been told, the two assistant coaches were intercepted by their children, who engaged in a long, drawn-out argument about wanting to go to an after-game party with their friends. The pervert was drooling as two freshman girls from the band all but threw themselves at him. We watched helplessly as Alex followed the team into the locker room, with no adults to witness what was about to happen.

I focused my hearing and heard several homophobic slurs and imagined the team surrounding the short male cheerleader; then I heard a grunt. I heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and when I smelled blood, I decided we needed to step in. Rushing for the door, I could sense the others following me. Like most locker rooms, the door opened to a short hall designed to prevent someone passing by from accidentally seeing the players inside in various states of undress. I expected to find Alex on the floor in a puddle of blood. I expected to find him being held by several players while others took cheap shots at the defenseless boy. I found neither of those.

When we rounded the corner, we pulled up short, shocked by what we found. There were three players on the floor, two with bloody noses and the third curled up, moaning, clutching his balls. Alex stood defiant as the rest of the team tried to grab him, but in typical bully fashion, they thought that brute strength would carry the day. They failed to act as a team, and we watched, fascinated, as a defensive lineman tried to tackle Alex, who used the attacker’s own momentum to flip the idiot around and propel his face into a locker. I flinched as I heard the kid’s nose break. Before another could attack, I felt more bodies enter behind us.

“Just what the fuck is happening in my locker room?” the pervert shouted to no one in particular. When there was no reply, Coach Whiteman noticed me. “Well, Fowler? Care to explain why half the wrestling team is in my locker room and four of my players are on the floor?”

I shrugged and said, “We heard a commotion and saw that you were otherwise occupied, so we thought we should check it out.” His glare told me he understood what I was implying, but I pressed on. “When we came in, those three were already on the floor, and we witnessed Evans seeming to attack Alex. From what I saw, Alex was only defending himself.”

“Get your mat rats out of my face. I’ll handle this,” he growled.

“Yes, sir, Coach. We’ll get the resource officers for you,” I said, trying to sound innocent.

“We won’t need them, damnit. I said I’ll handle this,” he snarled, glaring at me in a weak attempt to intimidate me.

Chris smirked at him and said, “Looks like an assault has been committed, Coach. I’m sure you wouldn’t want someone to escape justice, would you?”

“No one’s going to escape justice, boys, but this could follow these boys for the rest of their lives. I’ll deal with it my own way,” Coach said, trying to negotiate with us so he could sweep this under the rug. Unfortunately for him, I had already sent a mind-to-mind message to Adrian and Serena, explaining the situation and asking Adrian to come in. Even if I couldn’t sense him enter, I would have known when he did based on the look of defeat on Coach Whiteman’s face.

“Is there a problem in here, Coach Whiteman?” Adrian asked in a rather innocent voice.

Before he could reply, Alex stepped forward and said, “When I came in to change, the team surrounded me and started calling me several homophobic slurs. I would prefer not to repeat them, but I know I will have to at some point. From their actions, I knew this was going to escalate, so while they were calling me names, I managed to move to a more open area. Jenkins took a swing at me, so I used my elbow to strike him in the face. I followed that up by rolling him over my hip. As he hit the floor, Jackson came at me in an aggressive manner, so I used a Shotei-uchi to stop him.”

I saw Adrian smirk as he asked, “You used a what?”

“Sorry, officer, I struck him in the face with my palm, aiming at his nose, intending to break it and, hopefully, stop his attack. Shotei-uchi is the proper name for a palm-heel strike.”

“You’re not buying this, are you?” the coach complained to Adrian. “His story sounds like he’s reading it from a script. Someone’s coached him on what to say!”

“He’s right, officer; someone did coach me. May I explain?” When Adrian nodded, Alex continued. “Our Sensei teaches that our training is to be used for defending ourselves and others. He also taught us that if we ever needed to use our training, we would likely have to speak to law enforcement about what happened. For this reason, he taught us to remember the details of a fight and also taught us how to effectively relate those details in a non-emotional manner.”

“Sounds like your Sensei is very wise,” Adrian said with a nod. “Please pick up from where you used the,” Adrian glanced at his notes, “the show-tay ooo-chee?”

“Of course, Sir,” Alex said with a slight bow. “At this point, Miller tried to come at me from my left, so I spun around and hit him in the groin with a snap-kick. Finally, Evans came toward me like he was going to grapple me to the ground. I simply dodged him and assisted his own momentum to propel him into the locker. This was when Coach Whiteman came in and said he would handle things.”

Adrian turned and glared at the coach as he asked, “I assume that, by handling things, you meant you would send someone to get me? Otherwise, you would be guilty of obstructing justice.”

“I just assumed this was a typical scuffle between teenage boys, officer. Maybe over a girl. If I’d known my players had been attacked by someone trained in the martial arts, I would have called you right away.”

Adrian looked disgusted at this weak attempt at turning the story around. He radioed for more male officers and the paramedics, then instructed the uninjured to hurry up and shower and get dressed, warning them not to discuss this while they did. When his wife radioed that she was outside and would let no one leave, he stepped further into the locker room so he could make sure his instructions were followed. The paramedics took Jenkins and Miller, escorted by an officer, to the ambulance to be transported to the hospital; Jenkins for a possible broken nose and Miller, still barely able to walk, gingerly holding an ice pack to his balls. They called for a second ambulance to take Evans, also accompanied by an officer, for examination as well.

Several officers arrived over the next half hour. Three hours later, after interviewing the entire team, Alex, and those of us who had seen Evans’ attack, they released the team to their parents. The officers advised them that all of the boys would likely be called to answer more questions over the next several days. Adrian couldn’t let it be known that he was associated with me, so after taking statements from Chris, Josh, Scott, and me, he told us to expect calls as well and released us to our parents or guardians. Before he left, Chris made a point to tell Alex to call him, as his dad would be happy to represent Alex if needed.

When we got home, we found a very unhappy infant, waiting for his meal and our nightly reading of ‘Huckleberry Finn.’ After the first time I realized that he was following the story, I made a point to share the book with him every evening. Tonight, we would read of the elaborate plans Tom came up with to free Jim. I was amazed when Billy reached for Charlie; rather than go to his Papa, he seemed to want to stay attached to me. I assumed it had something to do with his desire to hear if Tom recovered from being shot. This interaction reminded me that I needed to contact Prince George, so once we finished the book, I called Frederick.

“Good evening, Baron Fowler. What can I do for you?” Frederick asked in his formal voice.

“I apologize for calling so late, Frederick, but I have something I need to discuss with the prince. Would you pass the message for him to call me when it’s convenient?”

“I can do that, My Lord, but I thought the prince gave you his number.”

“He did, but I assumed that, for official business, I should go through you.”

I could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “George doesn’t give his cell number to many, Greg. I suggest that we both pretend this call never happened and that you call him directly.”

After a few minutes of sharing the latest news in our personal lives, I ended the conversation with Frederick and called George. It went directly to voice mail, so I assumed he was either busy or asleep, so I left a message and sat down with James, Donna, Scott, Billy, Chris, and Josh to let them know why I was calling George. I had just started when George returned my call. After explaining to George what I had observed and what I wanted to do, he approved an additional two million dollars for our project, specifying that we should attempt to evaluate if it was indeed effective.

“I’m glad you called about this, Greg. It shows me that you actually care about what you’re doing. I think it’s time we set things in motion, and to do that, we need to spread the word.”

“And how do you propose we do that, Your Highness?” I asked.

“Instruct James to call a meeting of his baronetcy. He’ll understand that, but since you’re learning, I’ll explain. When I talk of a noble calling a meeting, I mean only the adult males, those over the age of seven. Every Baronet knows of a location in their baronetcy that can handle such a meeting without drawing human attention. Some use a local theatre, a large hotel conference room, or even something as simple as a large field on a farm. If I remember right, James uses a Hilton that is half an hour from his farm.”

James asked, “Forgive me, Your Highness, but if I call a meeting, Baron Evans is sure to hear about it and ask me why.”

“Don’t worry about Evans, James. I will require him to attend and record Greg’s speech so it can be shared with the other baronets. As we discussed, this project is to be shared with as broad a geographic area as is practical. That means you’ll have to coordinate with the Baronets in the barony and Baron Evans. I’ll have them contact you once you’ve had your meeting.”

“Before we schedule this meeting, I think we should visit the site so we can check on progress, George. We haven’t been able to visit for several weeks. I’d like to present a timeline when we present the plan if you approve,” I said, hoping things were still ahead of schedule.

“As I said when we first discussed it, Greg, you have full autonomy with this. I have faith that you will make me proud.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, Your Highness. I hope you’ll understand that I’m worried that I’ll let you down.”

“Greg, while I appreciate your concerns, I need you to understand two things. First, during this entire conversation, I’ve called you Greg while you’ve retained the more formal address for me. I thought you understood when you needed to be formal and when you could relax. As to you letting me down, I can only assume part of your concern stems from your lack of experience with my leadership style. Are you concerned that if you fail, I’ll be angry with you or punish you in some way?”

“If you’ll forgive me, Your Highness, you are correct.”

“Let me educate you, Greg. I am not concerned that you will make a mistake; I’m certain that you will.”

“Your Highness?” I asked, confused.

I heard a laugh. “You will make mistakes, Greg; we all do. A good leader doesn’t punish his subordinates for their mistakes, but he does take action if they fail to learn from those mistakes. What you do after thoroughly messing things up says much more about you than what you do when everything works out perfectly as planned.”

Like an idiot, I nodded as I understood what he was saying. “I understand, Your Highness. Ironically, I said almost the same thing to Josh the last time we were on site. I’m embarrassed by the fact that I assumed your leadership style would be different than mine.”

“No need to be concerned, Greg. I’m sure that, due to my age, you expect me to lead like a Prince of the Roman Empire. In reality, I tend to be a bit more modern. I will say that there will be times I make Henry VIII seem reasonable, though I doubt you’ll ever see that side of me aimed at you. Do what you feel is right, be ready to defend your decisions, and we will have no issues. If you’ll forgive me, Frederick has an issue that I must deal with immediately. We’ll talk again soon.”

Before I could reply, he disconnected the call. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to find it was three in the morning. I suggested we all get a few hours of sleep and leave for the farm at eight. I left it to Chris and Josh to gather up our human brothers and asked James if he would handle getting word to Tommy and Jenny so they would be ready. With our plans made, I grabbed Scott and Billy by the hand and led them upstairs to our bedroom.

I had set an alarm for seven, but Charlie decided we needed to wake up at six. Scott changed him and started feeding him while Billy and I headed to the kitchen, where we found Jenny and Donna hard at work putting together breakfast for everyone. Scott had just passed Charlie to me when Chris, Brian, and the twins joined us. Jake and Chris each grabbed a plate while Josh grabbed the pitcher from the fridge, poured several cups of whitetail blood, and put them in the microwave. Brian headed straight for Jenny and wrapped his arms around her, then tried to help with the cooking. Donna quickly pushed him out of their way while Jenny insisted he sit and eat with us. At eight, we loaded into three vehicles, and our little convoy was on its way to the farm. Jenny wanted to ride with Brian, so they rode with the twins while Chris joined Scott, Billy, Charlie, and me in the Denali.

We had been on the road for less than an hour when Chris’ phone rang. After a short greeting, Chris said, “That’s not a good idea, Alex. Until all this is over, you shouldn’t talk to anyone who can be called as a witness. Just call my dad and get this sorted out. Once this is over, we’ll all hang out sometime, okay?” After a pause, he said, “Tyler wasn’t inside the locker room, so yeah, you can hang out with him. I really should end this call, dude. It’s nothing personal; I hope you understand.” Apparently, he did because Chris ended the call after giving his promise that we would get together after things were done.

“If Alex and Ty are hanging out, I guess it means that they talked,” I said, thinking out loud.

“I hope it helps Tyler handle his demons,” Chris said. “Alex sounded happy when he mentioned Ty.”

Billy was about to say something when one of his phones rang; it was the one we jokingly called the hotline. Shortly after we came home from visiting Los Angeles, Frederick visited and brought an assortment of cell phones for our use. Billy, Scott, and I each received one to replace our personal phones, using the same number but using secure technology, preventing anyone from listening in. Billy was given a second phone that came preloaded with a contact list that included every noble of Dracul. This phone was the official phone of Baron Fowler, and as my Lord Steward, Billy acted as my gatekeeper, answering all incoming calls, taking messages, and placing official outgoing calls in my name.

“Baron Fowler’s office, Lord Steward White speaking,” Billy said as everyone in the Denali suddenly became silent. After a moment of listening to the caller, he replied, “Yes, My Lord, may I put you on hold a moment while I check with His Lordship?” Pause. “Certainly, My Lord. I will do as you ask.” Billy ended the call and turned to me.

“That was Baron Pittsburgh, My Lord. He has asked that you, Scott, and I join him for dinner at the Duquesne Club this evening.” Billy paused and added, “With all due respect, I suggest you accept the invitation, Sir.”

I sat for a moment, confused. “Baron Pittsburgh?”

“Forgive me, My Lord, Baron Evans is commonly called The Baron of Pittsburgh, or simply Baron Pittsburgh because that’s where he lives. Human titles are tied to where they lived when they became a noble while ours are tied to the person, but we use where they live for reference. Baron Evans has been Baron Binghampton, Baron Scranton, and Baron Philadelphia in the past.”

I nodded my understanding, then asked, “Did he give any reason for the invitation, Billy?”

“He did not, My Lord. He simply gave the invitation and apologized for calling so early, but as he knows where we live, he probably assumed we needed time to travel to Pittsburgh,” Billy replied. “I did not get the impression that he was aware we were headed to the farm.”

I turned to Scott, but he just shrugged, basically telling me that this was my decision. Was the baron simply being polite, or was he scouting out someone he considered an enemy? Had George already called him, and this was in response to that call? If so, what was said, and more importantly, what was Baron Evans’ attitude about my project? No one said a word as I considered the situation and made my decision.

“The first issue we should address is whether we have appropriate clothing at the farm,” I said, looking at Billy.

“We do.”

“From the conversation, I assume Baron Evans is waiting for our reply. Should I make that call, or should you?”

Billy seemed to have an innate feel for these things, so I wasn’t surprised by his quick reply. “That would depend on what you hope to achieve, My Lord. If you return the call, you are likely to be pulled into a conversation with Baron Evans. If I make the call, I will simply relay your acceptance and finalize the plans, most likely with his Lord Steward.”

“I agree with what you’re saying, Billy, but I’m asking which you would advise,” I said with a grin.

“I would advise that we stop and get feedback from the rest of your counselors, My Lord. You’ll forgive me, but they are likely to want to debate this, so if I offer my opinion now, I’ll have to restate it once we stop.”

Anticipating my request, Tommy pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and parked away from the crowd. Josh and James parked on either side of the Denali. After everyone took a quick restroom break, got a drink, and, of course, got snacks, we gathered behind the vehicles to talk.

“Baron Evans has invited Scott, Billy, and me to join him for dinner this evening, and before I give him my answer, I wanted to get your thoughts,” I said as I shared my ice cream with Charlie.

“I took the call,” Billy explained, “and he sounded perfectly polite and proper. I’ve already advised His Lordship that, in my opinion, I feel he should accept the invite.”

I watched as everyone considered this, and as I expected, the first to offer his thoughts was Jake. “I would agree with Lord White, My Lord. I would advise caution based on his reluctance to let you use his plane. He might see you as a potential rival for his seat, he might be concerned due to your personal relationship with Prince George, or he might simply want to meet you and find out who you are and what you’re up to.”

“I agree with everything Jake said, My Lord. To refuse the invitation would be taken as an insult,” Chris said. “Meeting with him can only benefit you. You could come away with an ally or you come away knowing that he is an adversary, but either way, you come away hopefully knowing where he stands.”

Josh simply said, “I agree with them completely, My Lord.”

Brian looked confused, so I asked why. “Well, you usually get upset when we call you ‘My Lord.’ Now, not only do you not react, but act like it’s normal.”

I started to reply, then thought better of it. I turned to Billy and let him address the issue. “When we’re talking as friends, it’s appropriate for us to be the teenagers we are and talk like other teens. When we are discussing official issues, it is appropriate for us to be more formal and give proper respect to those who hold official titles.”

“But we’re all Greg’s advisors. Why did Jake call you Lord White instead of Billy? Are we all ‘Lord’ something?” Brian asked, still confused.

Billy blushed as he explained, “A baron’s Steward can choose to be styled simply as ‘Steward’ or ‘Lord Steward.’ Due to my age, I chose to be Greg’s ‘Lord Steward’ to help me when dealing with older vampires who might not respect me otherwise. The rest of you can, once Greg has a barony, make the same choice once your position is confirmed. Right now, Chief Marshal McNiel and I are the only official members of Baron Fowler’s Baronial Court.”

Brian nodded his understanding as Billy explained, and everyone seemed to agree with his reasoning. Naturally, Jake had to confuse the issue by asking, “Does that mean that Josh and I will both be ‘Lord Jackson’?”

“To be an official part of my Court, you need to be a vampire,” I lied. Then, with a smirk, I added, “That might never happen.”

Ignoring Jake’s whining reply, we loaded back into our vehicles and headed to the farm. Billy called Baron Evans’ number and, as he expected, spoke to his steward, confirming our dinner at 8 PM. Scott sat with Charlie and fed him the rest of my ice cream while Billy and Chris argued about the major league baseball playoffs. As I sat quietly, considering tonight’s meeting with this baron I knew nothing about, a vague sense of foreboding crept into my mind.