Carter's Shadow - 20. Chapter 20

Peter was in his usual high perch. From the art room he could see everything going on in the lobby, a bird's-eye view over the day-to-day drama of teenaged lives. The fights, the lovers, the friends and those who used to be friends. He often sat up there apart from the other students with his sketchbook on his lap as he watched them.

Will had dropped him off early that morning, something about having to be at work ahead of time to get a report to his dictatorial boss. Peter didn't understand that--if a person hated his job so much that he dreaded going in to it each day, why stay at that job? But there Will was, each and every day heading in to a job that was slowly destroying little pieces of his soul...

Peter sighed, wishing there was some way he could help his 'brother', but as usual he just drew a blank. There was nothing he, a kid, could do to help. Will was eternally stubborn, and wouldn't listen even if he tried. The only one Will listened to seemed to be Highmore.

Brad was finally back at the school, a defeated look on his face as his shoulders sloped, awaiting the ridicule that would accompany a man recently deposed from the top. And Peter set his pencil aside as he watched a couple of Brad's former teammates, led by Jensen, intercept their fallen leader...

The former king's men...

He frowned as he sat upright; he knew trouble when he saw it. Jensen was gesturing towards the gym, speaking in a low tone. Brad seemed confused, and Peter wished he could hear what was being said... But he could see Brad's body language change from beaten to questioning, and as it changed a little of the old Brad, the swaggering confident Brad that had ruled the school with his usual brand of terror and bullying, returned.

Concern flickered through Peter; they had to be telling him about West.

Peter swallowed and dropped his art book to the desk and sprinted past a startled Mrs. McGorlick who called after him to walk in the halls. He ignored her, only one thought on his mind--he had to warn West...

He flew down the stairs, his Hawaiian shirt flapping out behind him as he took the stairs two at a time to crash through the fire doors and run along the outside of the school heading for the gym entrance, hoping to get there ahead of Brad's 'revolution' as they would have to wind their way through the school to cover the same distance.

Peter squeaked into the gym, and looked around to try and spot where West was.

* * *

West was exactly where he was supposed to be--sitting over in the scorekeeper's chair watching the basketball scrimmages out on the hardwood, talking to Matt. Mel lounged, as always, in her place of honour, being attended to by a couple of suitors.

He'd been trying to explain to Matt about his weekend, but he was failing to make sense out of it. Matt was, as usual, hung up on the more intimate details and wasn't really interested in the other facts.

"So... did you two...?"

"For the fourth time," West said patiently, "no; Blake and I aren't... he's not my type."

Mel leaned over and looked at West. "You have a type?" she asked with a smirk.

"Well no," West replied, "I just... look, Blake's a nice guy but I didn't feel anything."

"So you slept with him?" Mel asked.

"Again, no I didn't..." West trailed off as he noticed Peter. The young artist was looking about breathlessly. He was completely out of his element in the gym; even though he was the spitting image of his brother Robert, just something about the way he looked lost in the gym made him stand out.

"Hello," Mel said following West's gaze, "I think we just found West's type."

"Who, Peter?" Matt said screwing up his nose. "Nah."

Mel glanced at Matt a moment, trying to read something there, amusement lighting her eyes.

Peter spotted them, and approached, standing uneasily a moment as he glanced over his shoulder towards the doors of the gym, as if expecting at any moment for...

Brad entered the gym, Jensen and a couple of his cronies in tow.

"Uh-oh," Matt murmured, standing up.

A couple of the team players lounging on the wall also straightened up. They just needed to see Brad's face to know something was brewing. West glanced at each of them but remained seated. The chair he was sitting in was as much a symbol as it was anything else. It was a tradition that went back as far as anyone could remember: the captain of the team got the chair. Problem was, the tradition had never taken "two captains" into account. Even if one of them had been deposed, the inevitable showdown would have to take place there.

West sat quietly, calmly. He knew how this had to play out, he remembered his dad's stories about the Army. There was only one way to ensure command--be the last one to speak, and make sure it was with authority.

Brad hesitated, but stepped up past the lost little Peter, his appearance all wrong without his team jacket, like he was suddenly smaller. "West," he greeted uncomfortably.

"Morning, Brad," West replied. His father's words guided him as he let the situation play out: ask no questions, only answer them; make it clear you have only answers.

"Jensen... was filling me in on... stuff..." Brad said, glancing at the weaselly Jensen who was darting furtive glances around him as he tried to shrink back behind Brad.

West nodded, "Good."

Short, decisive words. Keep control; let other people know you know what you are doing.

At the far end of the gym, Coach Highmore was leaning against a pile of gym mats, always watching, always observing. The basketball games had all stopped, and an uneasy silence was settling over the normally noisy gym as people watched and waited to see how the latest drama would play out.

"You mean this shit's true? What he's been saying?" Brad glanced at Jensen and then back at West, "You're a fucking homo?"

Matt stepped forward protectively, stepping halfway between the two. "Watch it, Brad!" he warned, the short winger's fists balling as he allowed venom to drip into his normally cheerful voice.

"It's okay, Matt," West cut him off, adjusting his seat in the chair to relax back, crossing one ankle over his knee. Making it clear he was very comfortable there. And sending a clear message that he wasn't about to move aside to let Brad retake 'his' seat.

Matt looked back and nodded, taking a single step to the side, still not fully relaxing. Behind him, Paul and Clovis had stepped up as well. There was only one word that was universal amongst all of them: team. And whatever loyalty they felt for Brad only extended so far--he was no longer their captain, West was. And the team stood together. That was the way it worked.

West had been waiting for that small gesture, that single sign of solidarity that sent a message to everyone in the gym. Brad was no longer top dog.

Brad glanced at his former teammates, his jaw setting, and a flash in his eyes stating that he had noted their betrayal. He looked down at West haughtily. "Congratulations on making captain," he bit off.

"Thanks," West replied. Circumstances wouldn't allow them a friendship; they were steadfastly destined for conflict.

All those years of playing together as kids on the ice, sleepovers at each other's houses. The mischief and mayhem they had caused together. The Friday nights at the bar, cruising around Ottawa with the windows down and loud music blaring. It was all over in a single moment.

West knew he was being overdramatic; his friendship with Brad had always been strained. He had let Brad become team captain at the start of the year, because he knew how much his friend had wanted it. But instead of gratitude, Brad had lorded the illustrious title and squandered its meaning. Looking back on it, West knew that moment had been building for a long time, and it had nothing to do with his being gay.

No, his being gay was just the final insult. Brad had lost his team, his friends, his reputation and to who? A fag. The unbridled hate in those eyes staring at him told West everything Brad was thinking.

And West realized that Brad just didn't matter. So what if he hated him? It didn't impact a single solitary thing. West wasn't about to let someone else's issues overshadow his life, and the accomplishments he was achieving, the happiness he was finding in just being himself.

Brad stared at him a moment longer, before turning on his heels and stalking out of the gym. Jensen hesitated just a moment longer, until Matt blew him a kiss and sent him running after his fallen leader.

"Round one, Harding," Mel commented lightly. "You got the testicular fortitude to go a full nine over this?"

'Testicular fortitude?" West blinked as he looked at her. "Not like you to drop big words."

Mel smiled. "Should I dumb it down for you?" she asked pleasantly. "Do you have the balls to see this through?"

"Well," West said sitting upright again, "what can they do? I have a couple of weeks left and then I am done and then that's it, I don't have to see him again. I think I can tough out a few weeks of this."

"Good," Mel replied with a nod. "By the way..." she pointed to where Peter was standing uncomfortably.

West looked up and over at Peter, who was shifting from foot to foot and looking like he just wanted to leave. "Hey Peter," he said easily, "'Sup?"

Peter opened his mouth, looking at the door Brad had retreated through, and then back at West, realizing that he had absolutely nothing to say. He turned a light shade of pink. He'd run through the entire school just to warn West of... and now that was over he was standing there like an idiot.

"...I..." he stuttered, "...just..." he swallowed again. "I was just going," he said as he darted off.

"He likes you," Mel commented idly.

"What makes you say that?" West asked, settling into his chair again as the basketball games began again around the gym.

"Nah," Matt disagreed, "they hate each other."

"I don't hate him," West replied, and turned back to Mel, "we just don't get on."

"Oh, I see," Mel said, her dark eyes sparkling in amusement.

* * *

Peter was elbow-deep in flour when Blake finally said something to him.

Third-period Home Economics had been one disaster after another for the two boys. Mrs. Knowles, a warm woman vaguely reminiscent of a stereotypical grandmother, had tried everything in her power to teach the two of them how to cook, only to discover a completely hopeless cause in the pair of them.

Her solution to this had been to pair them up and have them work on simpler recipes, hoping that combined they might actually pass the course. Unfortunately, instead of twice the success, she usually ended up with two times the disasters.

"So, I heard you saw what went on this morning between Brad and West," Blake said, looking across the workstation into the bowl of what was supposed to be bread. "You're kneading that wrong."

"It says to do this in the book!" Peter replied, folding the dough over again. "Yeah, I saw, nothing happened; West stood up to Brad and Brad backed off."

"Yeah," Blake replied, taking some more water and tossing it into the bowl, over Peter's hands.

"Hey!" Peter looked up accusingly, "watch it."

"Sorry," Blake looked into the bowl again. "Do you think they're going to fight?"

"No," Peter said absently, "school's nearly done, and West's got half the team backing him up."

"Yeah, but I heard Brad's got the other half, 'cause they aren't happy having... having a... you know..."

Peter stopped his kneading and looked up at Blake. "A what?" he asked angrily.

Blake blinked at the reaction, and frowned, "A gay guy as captain."

"So what?" Peter folded his arms, forgetting about the flour and dough on them as he accidentally smeared his shirt. "Why can't West lead the team, where does it say in the hockey rule book you have to be straight?"

Blake again blinked at the reaction. "You know..." his voice dropped, "I'm gay, right?" His blue eyes searched Peter's face.

Peter stared in shock a moment, before bending back to his kneading. "Oh..." he said softly.

"Yeah," Blake said, "so, I mean, I'm all for West being captain. He's a great guy."

"Y-you like West?" Peter asked again, all elements of his shyness returning as he suddenly wished he were elsewhere.

"Well, we went out," Blake said conspiratorially, his voice dipping even lower. "We went on a date on Friday."

"How's it coming boys?" Mrs Knowles asked walking into the small lab, one of three that occupied the modified classroom.

"Good," Blake looked up.

Mrs Knowles stared at the pair, Peter with white handprints on his shirt, and Blake with a streak of flour in his hair. She shook her head knowingly. "Try to get at least some of the flour into the bowl, eh?" she laughed, as she walked back out of the lab and crossed to her desk.

Blake grinned as he slipped his thin hand into the bag of flour and pulled out a bit to flick at Peter. Peter for his part returned fire with a spoonful of water. Both grinned as they tried to complete the assignment, knowing full well they were doomed from the outset.

"You had a date with West?" Peter asked curiously, darting a glance to check that Mrs Knowles hadn't seen the horseplay going on behind her back.

"Yeah, he took me on the river," Blake said, idly flipping through the cook book. "It was cool, and kind of romantic, but..."

"But?" Peter asked looking up.

Blake looked up suddenly, a curious smile on his face, "Why are you suddenly so interested?"

"N-no reason," Peter flushed red as he went back to his bowl.

Blake looked over at him. "Are you...?" he asked in surprise.

"I never said that!" Peter bit off, looking up startled.

"But..." Blake looked confused, "I mean you're very..."

"Forget I asked," Peter said firmly. "It's nothing."

"Do you like me or something?" Blake asked in open confusion.

"No, I said let's drop it, so let's drop it, okay?" Peter insisted desperately.

"West!" Blake folded his arms triumphantly. "Ah-ha!"

"What part of drop it don't you...." Peter sighed, "I'm not...it's just...I don't..."

"Well," Blake said smirking, "this is cool; why didn't you tell me? We've been paired up together all semester..."

"I never said..." Peter replied, but Blake was ignoring him.

"Well, this is really cool," Blake grinned. "What are you doing after school? Want to hang out or something?"

"W-what?" Peter asked in surprise.

"Well," Blake shrugged, "we're almost friends, and now we both just shared something about ourselves, I figure that kinda means we are friends now, and friends hang out and..." His words were spilling out rapidly, the excited sixteen-year-old giving in to his own enthusiasm.

"But I never..." Peter again tried to insist.

"Oh, right..." Blake replied, "the whole closet thing... sorry, I'm just..." He sighed and grinned a little shyly. "It's just I've kinda just wanted someone to talk about this stuff to, and I can't talk to West, he's not..." he sighed, "our date didn't go well."

"Oh?" Peter asked carefully.

"Well, he just wasn't into it; you know when a guy just isn't fully there..."

"Actually I don't know," Peter replied truthfully.

"You're still a virgin?" Blake asked with a grin.

Peter gaped and glanced about him to make sure no one was overhearing their conversation. "No," he hissed. "Quiet, I never said I was..."

"But you like guys," Blake insisted.

"Yes, but..." Peter stopped short when he heard himself say it aloud.

Blake smirked triumphantly. "I knew it!" he whispered grinning. "Anyway, West and I decided to just be friends, so you have nothing to worry about if you want to ask him out."

"I'm not interested in West!" Peter shook his head.

"So, tonight after school," Blake continued, "your place or mine?"

"I was kinda planning to go to my friend Will's place..." Peter said hesitantly.

"Great!" Blake said, "I'm looking forward to it."