Erica Faller entered her house through the garage door, a bag of groceries in one arm, a young girl in the other, and a young boy completely focused on his Game Boy followed her into the kitchen. She gently set 3-year-old Samantha Faller on the floor and put the grocery bag on the island counter.
"Nate! I'm home!" She called up the stairs and went back out to the car to get more groceries, muttering, "Ben, put the game down and watch your sister."
"Sure, Mom." His eyes didn't move away from the screen. Samantha crawled up onto a chair and started pulling things out of the bag. Erica came back with four more bags.
“Benjamin either you put the game down and get started putting away the groceries or go get your brother and have him do it. Sammie, don't fall off of the counter. Be very careful."
Erica went back out to the car as Ben jogged up the stairs, still playing his game. When she came back in, Samantha was eating the contents of a bag of organic potato chips and Ben was coming back down the stairs, "He's not up there," said the eight-year old.
"What do you mean he isn't up there?" Erica asked, frowning, "He's always home by now."
"It means I knocked on his door and yelled his name and there was no answer," Ben replied.
She checked the messages on the answering machine and when there weren't any messages from Nathan, she went upstairs. "Nate," she called, knocking on his bedroom door, "Nate, honey, are you in here?"
When there was no answer, she slowly opened the door. His room was trashed. Clothes were ripped up and torn everywhere. His DVD tower was spilled all over the floor. "Pretty in Pink" was shattered. Erica swallowed and walked over to the door to Nate's bathroom. It had been a priority when they had contracted their house that each bedroom had its own bathroom. Now she was afraid of what she would find in that priority.
She slowly opened the door, and there on the floor was her son, curled up in a fetal position, surrounded by broken, hair products, and chunks of hair. He sat between the toilet and the bathtub, encased in a porcelain cubbyhole. Tears and make-up streaked his face while his hair looked like it had been cut with a weed-whacker, long and short in random places all over his head.
"Oh, baby," she breathed and dropped down on the floor in front of him, "What happened?"
He just shook his head and didn't even attempt to speak. She ran her fingers through his hair and sighed.
"Did something really, really bad happen?"
Slowly, Nathan nodded in reply.
Erica nodded as well and spoke softly, gently; "Do you want to tell me about it?"
He shook his head and fought back another bout of tears.
"How can I make it better?"
Paris was anxious. The day before, Nathan had not been at school. Not that anyone cared otherwise, and especially not Paris. He did not verbally assault his teacher when he asked where he was and she replied that she had no idea. He did not receive detention for going down to the office and verbally assaulting the attendance advisor for not knowing where he was either. And he most definitely did not get sent home for sneaking into the registrar's office during his lunch period and search through her files looking for Nathan's home phone number. Nope. None of that happened. No one cared that Nathan was absent for a day. Or at least that's what Paris' parents paid the school to tell anyone that asked.
So there was Paris, twitching in his seat, wondering where the effeminate boy he had kissed two days prior was. He had his legs propped up on the seat next to his, blocking the path of anyone who wanted to sit behind him. Girls talked to him and he just nodded, the conversation with Nate running through his head like a broken record. He closed his eyes and saw his face when Paris had insulted him. He licked his lips and still could remember perfectly the taste of their kiss. He was quickly driving himself insane.
The girls started giggling about something, but Paris ignored them. It was something about a new guy. What did it matter? Paris just wanted to get a hold of Nathan.
“Move.”
He looked up at the boy that had spoke and glared.
“No,” he replied haughtily.
The boy glared back, “I need to sit there.”
“Tough shit.”
He smirked up at the boy. He was very attractive and looked familiar. Maybe they had modeled together? Paris didn’t know. He always forgot the names of the other models because they didn’t matter. They were just competition that he knew he was better than.
However, this boy was interesting. He had chocolate brown hair with chunked red hi-lights. The bangs went down to his nose and covered one eye while it was shorter in the back. His skin was a smooth tan, but he didn’t look Hispanic and Paris wondered what he was. He wore a tight red t-shirt with a black hooded sweatshirt and a pair of dark gray Dickies.
“Will you just move?” the boy growled, ending Paris’ perusal.
Paris just rolled his eyes, “I already told you no. Go sit somewhere else.”
“That’s my seat.”
“Did the teacher tell you that?” Paris snorted, “That’s not your seat. Go sit somewhere else.”
“God, you are such an asshole, Paris,” the guy growled and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t stand you.”
Paris was silent, staring at the boy, wondering how he knew his name. Sure, he was pretty popular and all, but this kid was new and if he didn’t remember the names of any of his co-models, he didn’t expect them to remember his. So he stared. And his jaw dropped.
“Nathan??”
Nate rolled his eyes and pushed Paris’ legs out of the way while the larger boy was not paying attention. He plopped down in his seat and glared at the model gaping at him.
“What happened to your hair?” Paris asked in shock.
“I cut it.”
“But… but…. What’s up with your clothes? They’re so…”
“Masculine?”
“Not you.”
Nathan rolled his eyes, “What do you know about me? And why would you care anyway? I’m just an androgynous little freak, right?”
Paris’ eyes dropped to the floor, “I didn’t mean to say that. I panicked and I reacted badly. I didn’t mean it. You know that.”
Shaking his head, Nathan refused to make eye contact with him, “I don’t know anything Paris. I’m just a stupid little boy that got a dumb idea in his head and let it get out of hand. Everybody’s got to grow up sometime. Not everything is a John Hughes movie, right?”
“Did I do this to you?” Paris asked and reached to touch his hair. Nathan pushed his hand away.
“Just leave me alone.”
“Paris!” Ms. Lansing called. Paris grudgingly stood up and walked over to her.
“What?” he asked.
“Both you and Nathan have been accounted for attendance. So if you two need to go and… ‘work on your project’ for a little while to sort things out, I’ll turn a blind eye. Just don’t get caught.”
It took a minute for what she said to sit in then Paris grinned at her and went back to his seat. He tugged on Nathan’s shoulder and made him stand up.
“We’re going to go work on our project. Ms. Lansing said it was ok.”
Nathan just grunted and followed him out of the room. He followed Paris until he realized he was being lead out to the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Starbucks. We have to talk.”
Nathan glared at the back of his head, “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well I’ve got plenty to say to you,” Paris replied. They exited the building and Paris lead him to his car, “Get in.”