Vagrant Story - Go Wyverns

Chapter One - Kickoff

Warnings:
First and foremost, this thing is full of shounen ai. Basically, boys being romantic and angsty at each other. There's no smut, no sex, nothing worth more than a PG rating; but there is a LOT of fairly suggestive dialogue. I hope you read it anyway. I'm proud of it.
Equally, this thing is chock full of foolish fangirlishness. I spent a fair amount of time dwelling on what people were wearing, for example. Bear with me, it seemed important at the time.
Next, it's LONG. This is only chapter ONE, and it's FORTY PAGES LONG. Granted, a lot of that is blank space, so it's about twenty pages of actual text. I don't think the fic is TOO repetitive, but then, I'm its mommy, so I can't judge.
Some offensive language and behavior.
However, there's really very little in the way of spoilers. If any at all. Having played the game will just add to the irony value, but the fic seems to stand okay on its own, more or less.
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MR. BARDORBA: Class! CLASS! Quiet down. Quiet! That's better. Class, I'd like you all to meet a new student. Everyone, this is Ashley Riot.

ASHLEY: ... Ash.

(MR. BARDORBA makes a note on the seating chart.)

MR. BARDORBA: ... Ash. I know you'll all do your best to make Ash feel welcome!

(Twenty-seven pairs of eyes regard ASHLEY with expressions ranging from interest to boredom to hostility to speculation. As your eyes rove over the classroom, you can pick out some familiar faces:)
(SAMANTHA, sitting in the front row. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and she's wearing a tight sweater and a cheerleader's skirt. Her feet (in saddle shoes and pom-pom socks) fidget back and forth underneath her desk as she gnaws unconsciously on her lower lip, painted a shiny pale pink. She stares at ASHLEY, fascinated.)
(ROMEO, sitting right behind SAMANTHA. He doesn't have his usual mustache or goatee, but his blond hair is perfectly, artfully tousled, and he wears a sneering expression. A letter jacket hangs over the back of his chair, and the sleeves of his oxford-cloth shirt are rolled up to the elbow, displaying his tan and muscular forearms. He regards ASHLEY with narrow-eyed suspicion, then glances at SAMANTHA and frowns.)
(DUANE, in the front row on the opposite side of the room from SAMANTHA. Skinny, gawky, and ungainly, he's still wearing that rather unfortunate bowl cut and heavy industrial black-framed glasses, as well as a lovely crop of bright red zits. DUANE is drawing something in his binder; it looks like a zombie. He blinks wetly at ASHLEY and then goes back to his drawing.)
(GRISSOM, right behind DUANE, his twin brother. They look almost exactly alike, down to their skinny frames and zit collections, except that GRISSOM's hair is greasy and lank, and his glasses are held together with duct tape. He doesn't look at ASHLEY, preferring to fiddle with his calculator instead.)
(HARDIN, in the middle of the classroom. Small, neatly-tended sideburns have replaced his usual beard, and his dark brown hair is neatly cut and slicked back. He bears an earnest expression, reinforced by his tidy, unobtrusive, obviously expensive clothes and the chunky, expensive gold watch on one wrist. He stares at ASHLEY as if committing his face to memory for the next student council election season.)
(CALLO, sitting right next to HARDIN. Her black hair is tied back in a simple, neat braid with a red bow, and she's wearing a white silk shirt and a knee-length plaid skirt. Knee-high socks and loafers complete the look, and she's wearing several subtle and expensive-looking pieces of gold jewelry. She attempts to catch ASHLEY's eye and smile.)
(TIEGER, in the very back of the classroom. His huge feet, shod in motorcycle boots, are propped up on the chair in front of him. Despite the warmth of the classroom, he hasn't taken off his dirty black leather jacket. He barely glances at ASHLEY before going back to cleaning his fingernails with a jackknife. He has a half-asleep expression on his face, which serves to mask the psychotic expression in his eyes fairly well.)
(NEESA, right next to TIEGER. She's wearing far too much makeup, a red shirt knotted up just under her breasts, and the shortest tightest black leather hot pants you've ever seen. Tattoos are visible everywhere: on her shoulder, around her ankle, on her belly. She's kicked off her spike heels and taken off her huge cheap gold hoop earrings. A lit cigarette imperfectly concealed in her cupped hand, she stares right at ASHLEY's crotch and smirks.)
(SYDNEY, also in the back of the room. His long blonde hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, and he's wearing all black: loose shirt, unbuttoned vest, loose trousers, pointy-toed shoes, and, oddly, fingerless black leather gloves. Gold spectacles with small round frames are perched halfway down his nose, and a tiny gold earring flashes in one ear. A heavy silver link bracelet rings one wrist, and he plays with this idly, staring at ASHLEY entirely too intently.)
(And, finally, ROSENCRANTZ, right next to SYDNEY. As usual, ROSENCRANTZ looks like he can't decide between flaming and pimping. He wears a pencil-thin mustache and a light dusting of chin fuzz that might, someday, be a goatee. His hair is all slicked straight back, curling lightly around his ears and down the back of his neck. He shines of metal: no fewer than twenty bracelets of varying sizes clatter on his arms, he's wearing four chains around his neck, there are at least four piercings in each ear, and the lip-ring is firmly in place. His tight red sleeveless shirt appears to be made out of pleather, as do his skin-tight black pants, which slide over black snakeskin cowboy boots. He beams insincerely at ASHLEY and mimes blowing him a kiss. ASHLEY, fortunately, doesn't notice.)

MR. BARDORBA: Hm... I think for now I'll put you in the empty seat next to Duane. Duane, raise your hand please!

(DUANE jerks, startled, and his books and binder all clatter to the floor. ROMEO doesn't bother to stifle his snigger. After a moment, the bright red DUANE puts up his skinny hand. ASHLEY, still carefully maintaining his bored expression, picks up his backpack and makes his way to the indicated seat, kicking a stray textbook back towards DUANE. DUANE looks grateful and hunted, both.)

MR. BARDORBA: Now, then. Eyes front, please... now then. Who can tell me the dates of King Delita's reign, from yesterday's lesson? Hm?

(The lesson continues, and is about that interesting. After a while, the bell rings, and everyone stands up and starts gathering up their things. ASHLEY appears to be writing something down, and so is a few moments late in starting to gather up his things. Most of the classroom has emptied out. ASHLEY looks up to see HARDIN, standing nearby and smiling an empty professional smile at him. CALLO is standing right behind HARDIN, smiling as well.)

HARDIN: Hi! Uh... Ash, right? Anyway, I'm John, John Hardin, nice to meet you...

(HARDIN holds out his hand. ASHLEY looks at the outstretched hand blankly for just long enough to make HARDIN uncomfortable, then reaches out and shakes HARDIN's hand, not smiling.)

HARDIN: And this is Callo... she's on student council with me...

(CALLO smiles and raises one hand in a brief wave.)

CALLO: Hi.

HARDIN: (starting to feel a bit uncomfortable) Anyway, I just wanted to say hi and welcome to Lea Monde High... do you, uh, have any questions or anything?

ASHLEY: ... no, not really.

HARDIN: ... okay. Okay. Good to meet you!

(HARDIN waves, uncertainly, and then leaves the classroom. ASHLEY goes back to packing his books into his backpack, ignoring CALLO, who is still standing there. As ASHLEY turns to leave the classroom, CALLO falls in step next to him, swinging her satchel.)

CALLO: Which lunch do you have?

ASHLEY: Uh? Oh...

(ASHLEY reaches into the front pocket of his chinos and pulls out a creased schedule. Unfolding it with a flip of his thumb, he consults it.)

ASHLEY: Uh... A Lunch, looks like.

CALLO: Oooh, me too! A Lunch is kind of early, though... I wish I had B Lunch... anyway, you can come sit with me at lunch if you want. You shouldn't have to eat alone or anything.

(ASHLEY runs one hand through his hair. After a moment, his bangs flop forward again into his eyes.)

ASHLEY: ... sure. Okay. Thanks.

(CALLO smiles at ASHLEY and begins to turn away to go down the hall.)

ASHLEY: Hey...

CALLO: Huh?

ASHLEY: That Hardin guy... does he sit with you at lunch?

CALLO: Who? Oh, John? No, he's got B Lunch...

ASHLEY: ... okay. I... I guess I'll see you then. Callo.

(CALLO beams at ASHLEY, who fidgets just a tad. Then CALLO turns and runs off down the hallway, the hem of her plaid skirt swishing gently around her knees. ASHLEY watches her leave before turning to go to his next class.)

(SCENE: The lunchroom. A huge, cavernous room tiled in white, currently stuffed to overflowing with high school kids. The noise is overwhelming. In the center of the room, at one of the long trestle tables, we see CALLO, nibbling on a carrot stick, and ASHLEY, who's eating a sandwich he brought in a battered paper sack. A couple of other girls are sitting here as well, and two tables down we see DUANE and GRISSOM, who are eating soup out of thermoses and trying not to stare at CALLO too obviously. As ASHLEY finishes his sandwich and crumples up his paper sack, SYDNEY appears out of nowhere, followed by ROSENCRANTZ, who appears to be mincing. SYDNEY flops down on the bench right next to ASHLEY, startling pretty much everyone, and stares intently at ASHLEY.)

SYDNEY: ... hey.

ASHLEY: ...

CALLO: ...? Sydney, I thought you had B Lunch.

(SYDNEY doesn't stop staring at ASHLEY as he answers.)

SYDNEY: Yeah, I do. Hey, new kid. Ash, right? I'm Sydney.

ASHLEY: ... hey.

(SYDNEY jerks a thumb at ROSENCRANTZ, who smirks at ASHLEY.)

SYDNEY: That's Rosey. He's a fuckhead.

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song voice) And you're a daddy's boy, Sydney.

(SYDNEY smirks and pushes his small gold spectacles back up his nose, then fixes ASHLEY with another stare.)

SYDNEY: So what do you do with yourself for fun?

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: You know, when you're not sitting in class being force-fed facts. What do you do AFTER gulag, er, school?

ASHLEY: ... I dunno. Nothing much, I guess.

SYDNEY: Mm. Yeah. Anyway, you want to join the drama club... don't look at me like that, you do, I can tell... and I'm just the one to drag you there.

ROSENCRANTZ: (exaggerated lisp) Thydney is THUCH a drama queen...

SYDNEY: Shut up, Rosey. See, Ash, we need more guys in drama club, and I think you'd fit in fine.

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: Ooooh, I've overwhelmed you. I'm SO TERRIBLY sorry. Anyway, Ash, I'll find you after last bell and drag you off. That's a threat. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.

(SYDNEY rises effortlessly to his feet. He reaches over and ruffles ASHLEY's long bangs. ASHLEY, expressionless, swats at SYDNEY's hand. SYDNEY grins and stalks pantherishly off, followed by the now-moonwalking ROSENCRANTZ, who blows ASHLEY another kiss right before they both disappear out the door. ASHLEY stares at ROSENCRANTZ, his lip curling just a bit.)

CALLO: I wish he wouldn't skip class like that...

ASHLEY: ... huh? Who?

CALLO: Sydney! He has B Lunch... he's a really good actor, but if he fails any more of his classes, they won't let him be in any plays, and so he's really got to stop skipping class...

ASHLEY: Huh. What about that other guy?

CALLO: Jan?

(CALLO shudders lightly.)

CALLO: I think he's got A Lunch, but it doesn't matter... he's... he's just HORRIBLE. I know this is a mean thing to say, but sometimes I wish Jan would go ahead and flunk out and leave the rest of us alone... he's so, so snide!

(ASHLEY stares at CALLO for a moment. CALLO goes bright red and fiddles with one of her earrings.)

CALLO: I'm sorry, that was rude.

ASHLEY: ... nah. I think you're probably right. Rosey seems like an asshole.

(CALLO turns even redder and stifles an attack of the giggles. ASHLEY gravely watches CALLO giggle for a moment, then abruptly grins. The grin lights up his whole face, banishing the sullen look completely.)

CALLO: Oh my... anyway, the bell's about to ring, we should probably head out...

(ASHLEY and CALLO stand up, gather their things, and leave. Behind them, you see that DUANE and GRISSOM have been joined at their table by TIEGER, who's sitting next to DUANE. Upon closer examination, you notice that TIEGER has DUANE in a fierce headlock, and is calmly rubbing the remains of DUANE's soup into DUANE's already-greasy hair. NEESA stands right behind GRISSOM, smirking, with one long-fingernailed hand dug tightly into GRISSOM's shoulder. Both DUANE and GRISSOM are red-faced and outraged, but unwilling to say anything.)

(SCENE: One of the large courtyards built into the center of the school. Last bell rang about ten minutes ago. ASHLEY is here, sitting at a small picnic table. His backpack is open beside him, and he appears to be writing something in a small notebook.)

VOICE: Ah HA! There you are! You cannot hide from me, young man!

(ASHLEY's head jerks up. SYDNEY, alone this time, is crossing the courtyard to where ASHLEY sits. SYDNEY is carrying what appears to be a yardstick, alternately using it for a cane and slashing idly at bushes with it as he goes by. SYDNEY has shortly closed with ASHLEY, who has closed the notebook and put it back in his backpack.)

SYDNEY: I told you it was a threat! Now then, you vill come vith me, yes?

(SYDNEY points the end of the yardstick at ASHLEY like a rapier. ASHLEY blinks.)

ASHLEY: Point that damn thing somewhere else.

(SYDNEY, looking not abashed in the slightest, whips the yardstick away from ASHLEY and savages a poor innocent bush with it. Slashing the bush again and again, raising a small cloud of shredded leaf bits which swirl about him, SYDNEY declaims in a loud voice.)

SYDNEY: What ho, varlet! Hast thou the temerity to outrage mine own sister and hope to get away with it? Nay! Thou shalt taste of my blade!

ASHLEY: You mean, of your yardstick.

SYDNEY: Oh, whatever, go with it!

(With an incredibly athletic leap, SYDNEY bounds up onto the wall that bounds the courtyard. Brandishing his yardstick like a rapier, SYDNEY yells.)

SYDNEY: STAND, YE DOGS, AND DESPAIR! FOR I SAY TO THEE, THIS IS THINE HOUR! STAND AS MEN AND MAKE YOUR LAST HOURS COUNT, AND THEY SHALL SING THY NAME DOWN IN HISTORY!

VOICE: DAMMIT, FAGGOT, SHUT THE HELL UP!

(ASHLEY and SYDNEY both whip their heads in the direction of the new voice. ROMEO strolls into the courtyard, sneering. SAMANTHA follows, about ten paces behind, clutching her books to her chest and looking uncertain.)

SYDNEY: Ah, the illustrious captain of the football team! And his oh-so-lovely escort...

(SYDNEY leaps lightly down from the wall and races past ROMEO, who isn't quite fast enough to stop him. Before anyone knows it, SYDNEY has grabbed SAMANTHA's free hand and is bending over it, kissing her knuckles. SAMANTHA simultaneously giggles, yanks her hand away from SYDNEY, and turns bright pink. ASHLEY, temporarily forgotten by everyone, can't resist a smirk.)

ROMEO: Hey, goddammit, you get away from her!

(ROMEO lunges at SYDNEY and grabs him by the elbow. SYDNEY's yardstick goes spinning away as ROMEO yanks SYDNEY around to face him.)

ROMEO: Look, art-faggot, you don't touch my girlfriend, you got that?

SYDNEY: Oh, absolutely, I have thoroughly internalized your message! From now on, I will refrain from touching your lovely helpmeet!

(ROMEO glares at SYDNEY, turning red.)

ROMEO: You want to watch that smart mouth, asshole, or someone might watch it for you...

SAMANTHA: Um, Romy?

ROMEO: Not now, Samantha. (to SYDNEY, ominously quiet) Are you gonna apologize?

(Despite ROMEO's ominous mien, SYDNEY's voice still quavers with barely-controlled hilarity.)

SYDNEY: I apologize! Mea culpa! A thousand pardons, please forgive this HUMBLE soul!

(ROMEO growls. With his free hand, he flicks the small glasses off SYDNEY's nose to clatter away, and then he lightly slaps SYDNEY on the cheek, in warning. SYDNEY's cheek pinkens slightly.)

ROMEO: Apologize like you MEAN it, if you're so good an actor.

(SYDNEY calms, somewhat.)

SYDNEY: All right, all right. I'm sorry, okay?

ROMEO: ... I don't think I believe you...

(ROMEO slaps SYDNEY harder. SYDNEY's head snaps to the side with the blow, even though it's obvious ROMEO was still holding back.)

ASHLEY: Hey, asshole, why don't you pick on someone your own size, huh? He apologized. Why don't you get lost?

(Everyone had forgotten that ASHLEY was there. ROMEO's head jerks around. So does SAMANTHA's, and after a moment, SYDNEY's head wobbles around as well. SYDNEY's cheek is bright red, and his eyes are slightly unfocused. ROMEO's eyes meet ASHLEY's, and ROMEO casually tosses SYDNEY aside. SYDNEY manages to avoid falling with something less than his usual grace.)

ROMEO: ... my own size? You mean, like you, new kid?

(ASHLEY's only response is to wind his backpack around his left arm as an impromptu shield, and whip SYDNEY's lost yardstick around in front of him. The yardstick makes an ominous swishing noise.)

ROMEO: ... the fuck? You some kind of gladiator?

ASHLEY: Get bent, 'Romy'.

(ROMEO snarls and charges at ASHLEY. ASHLEY immediately whips the yardstick around in a whistling arc, landing a stinging blow directly on ROMEO's ear. ROMEO yelps, startled, and falls back, clutching at his bleeding ear. ASHLEY brandishes the yardstick in front of ROMEO's slightly-stunned eyes, the whistling sound much more ominous now.)

ROMEO: ... fuck this. C'mon, Sammy, let's leave these losers to their little faggot games.

(ROMEO, still holding his ear, stalks out of the courtyard, followed closely by a clearly uncomfortable SAMANTHA. SAMANTHA looks back once, staring at ASHLEY almost fearfully. On a whim, ASHLEY raises the yardstick in a gladiator's salute. SAMANTHA blushes and hurries after ROMEO. ASHLEY lets out his breath in a gusty sigh of relief.)

SYDNEY: Mah heero! Oh, how can I evah repay your kindness, suh?

(ASHLEY glances at the red-cheeked wild-eyed SYDNEY, vainly trying to straighten his mangled spectacles, and busts out laughing.)

ASHLEY: Wal, now, little lady, 'tweren't nothing, so don't you worry your pretty little head none!

(SYDNEY looks absolutely floored for about two seconds, before he joins ASHLEY in helpless laughter. The courtyard rings with laughter for several minutes before they manage to get a grip on themselves again.)

SYDNEY: Aheh. Heh. Okay. Anyway, I'm sorry I got you involved in all this crap. Romeo's kind of psycho.

(ASHLEY shrugs, still grinning a bit.)

ASHLEY: Nah, he deserved it. I hate jocks anyway. Oh, and by the way... your blade, sir!

(ASHLEY presents the yardstick to SYDNEY with a flourish. SYDNEY bows, gravely doffing an imaginary hat, and accepts the weapon, then mimes sheathing the blade. Yardstick stuck in his belt, SYDNEY perches the reasonably-straight spectacles on his nose again.)

SYDNEY: See, now, I told you you'd be perfect for the drama club! Perhaps if I offer you outRAGEous sexual favors, you'd be so kind as to teach us stage fencing?

ASHLEY: (without any real heat) Fuck you!

(SYDNEY and ASHLEY bust out laughing again. ASHLEY mock-punches SYDNEY in the shoulder, and SYDNEY grasps his shoulder dramatically and staggers. Clowning around, they both leave the courtyard.)

(SCENE: At the drama club meeting, about thirty minutes later. SYDNEY and ASHLEY are both here, leaning on a pile of unpainted flats in the back of the room. ROSENCRANTZ is also here, sprawled out full-length on the floor in the middle of the room, his red pleather shirt rucked up to display his flat belly, complete with navel ring. One of the girls is sitting on ROSENCRANTZ's legs, giggling, and he has his head in the lap of another, smirking up at her. There are about twenty other people here, mostly girls. ASHLEY, adrenalin spent, has reverted back into 'bored' mode, occasionally grinning at one of SYDNEY's snide remarks.)

SYDNEY:(indicating ROSENCRANTZ) ... nah, I guess some girls just go for that shit. He's a total asshole, but nothing's ever boring when he's around, and he'll flirt with ANYTHING, animal, vegetable, mineral...

ASHLEY: Yeah, I noticed.

(A third girl reaches out shyly and touches ROSENCRANTZ's navel ring. ROSENCRANTZ bursts out into high-pitched giggles and makes his stomach muscles ripple. The girl yanks her hand back, turns red and giggles, and then ROSENCRANTZ and his entire fan club all start giggling.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (falsetto) Oh, I love you all! Marry me, all of you!

SYDNEY: (from the back of the room, also falsetto) Even meeeeee, Roseykins?

ROSENCRANTZ: (falsetto) Even yoooooou, Sydneypoo! You can be my FIRST wife!

GIRL No. 1: Awwwww, I wanted to be first wife!

(MS. MULLENKAMP, the drama teacher, enters the room at this point, her flowing gypsy skirt whipping around her legs with the speed of her entrance. Without even pausing, she steps right over ROSENCRANTZ's belly on her way to the front of the room.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song) Hiiiiii Ms. Mullenkamp! Love your new booooooots!

MS. MULLENKAMP: All right, boys, girls, Rosey, let's get this underway. We've only got three weeks until opening night, and we've got a LOT to do. And by the way, hello, new person.

SYDNEY: This is Ash, Ms. Mullenkamp.

MS. MULLENKAMP: Hi, Ash. Glad you're here, hope you stick around. ANYway. Sydney, you and Ash move those flats you're sitting on outside and get them spread out for painting... the paint and rollers are in the boys' dressing room, if you want to get started. Rosey, you and your fanclub can work on repairing those ballgowns we rescued.

(MS. MULLENKAMP gestures towards a rack full of rather musty-looking satin dresses. She continues to hand out assignments, but SYDNEY and ASHLEY are no longer paying attention, as they jockey the large canvas-covered flats outside, one by one. It takes both boys to carry one of the large, awkward flats, and ASHLEY finds himself walking backwards, facing SYDNEY, who persists in grinning at him.)

(SCENE: Outside, behind the school auditorium, a couple of hours later. A large grassy area, now carpeted with stage flats, laid out about a foot apart. About half the flats have already been painted a pale green color. SYDNEY and ASHLEY are here, each painting a flat. SYDNEY has changed into a tight pair of bike shorts (and nothing else), which is a good thing, because his entire body is liberally splattered with green paint. ASHLEY has taken off his t-shirt and shoes, and is being careful not to get too much paint on his chinos. SYDNEY finishes painting his flat with a flourish of his roller (splattering paint on his calves), and moves over to the next, unpainted flat.)

ASHLEY: When you said the drama club needed more guys, I didn't know you meant for grunt work.

SYDNEY: (airily) Ah, well, we must pay our dues before we can make it to the top!

(SYDNEY reaches over and prods ASHLEY in the shoulder with his roller, leaving a big triangular green mark on ASHLEY's skin.)

ASHLEY: Hey, dammit!

(ASHLEY promptly smacks SYDNEY's forehead with his own roller, painting SYDNEY's forehead, bangs, and eyebrows green.)

SYDNEY: (spluttering) A hit! A palpable hit!

MS. MULLENKAMP: (emerging from the school) And now, if you're QUITE through wasting my paint, I'd like to say, good job!

(SYDNEY and ASHLEY both look abashed, although not for very long.)

MS. MULLENKAMP: That's plenty for today, it's almost six... go get cleaned up. You can leave the flats here, no one's going to bother them.

SYDNEY: Right!

(SYDNEY leaps to his feet and gathers up the paint cans, trays, and rollers. ASHLEY stands up rather more slowly and stretches.)

MS. MULLENKAMP: And thank you for your help, Ash. I apologize for saddling you with painting duties on your very first day.

ASHLEY: No problem, Ms. Mullenkamp.

(ASHLEY and SYDNEY go inside and into the boys' dressing room. ASHLEY cleans the paint rollers in the sink, while SYDNEY makes a concerted effort to remove most of the still-wet paint from his skin and hair. After setting up the rollers to dry, ASHLEY scrubs the paint from his shoulder, while SYDNEY stares morosely at the light sunburn across his shoulders and picks paint from his eyebrows.)

SYDNEY: ... you need a ride home?

ASHLEY: Huh? Yeah, that'd be great... I gotta go get my backpack out of the drama room first, though.

SYDNEY: Okay. I'll meet you there just as soon as I'm dressed.

(ASHLEY puts his shoes on and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Tucking his t-shirt back into his chinos, he heads towards the drama room, only to stop dead at the sound of ROSENCRANTZ's voice from inside.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (inside the room, in a hyper-serious voice) "Monday, October 16th. The new school isn't as bad as I thought it would be, although there are a couple of real assholes. I guess there are assholes everywhere, though. I miss Tia... she'd know exactly what to say to make those self-important jerks feel two feet tall."

ASHLEY: HEY! GODDAMMIT!

(ASHLEY explodes into the drama room, furious. ROSENCRANTZ is sitting cross-legged on the little stage, ASHLEY's backpack open beside him, holding the small notebook that we saw earlier. ROSENCRANTZ's fanclub is spread out around him, mending the satin dresses we saw earlier and listening. At ASHLEY's entrance, they all look abashed and giggle. ROSENCRANTZ beams up at ASHLEY, holding the notebook open in one hand.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song) Why, Mister Ash! We were just talking about you!

ASHLEY: That's mine! Give me that back, asshole, it's private!

ROSENCRANTZ: (mocking) Oooooh, it's private! I do believe I've hurt his FEELINGS, girls!

(ROSENCRANTZ stands up in one swift, fluid motion, unfolding to his full (and fairly considerable) height. Closing the notebook, he holds it above his head at arm's length, the little notebook almost brushing the ceiling.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (mocking) You're going to have to come and get  it...

SYDNEY: (from the doorway) Rosey, what the hell are you doing? Give him that back.

(ROSENCRANTZ ignores SYDNEY, mock-simpering at ASHLEY, who's fuming.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song) Come get it, loverboy!

(ROSENCRANTZ makes kissy noises at ASHLEY, who roars. ASHLEY charges at ROSENCRANTZ... but instead of trying to reclaim the notebook, ASHLEY punches ROSENCRANTZ as hard as he can in the stomach. ROSENCRANTZ makes a 'whoof'ing sound and folds up, dropping the notebook. ASHLEY grabs the notebook and stuffs it back into his backpack, still red. The girls are all dead silent and still, in shock. ROSENCRANTZ grabs a trash can and retches into it as ASHLEY stomps out of the classroom, followed closely by SYDNEY.)

(SCENE: The hall outside the drama room. ASHLEY is not -quite- running down the hall, face red, eyes streaming despite his best efforts to appear stoic. There is a clatter of running footsteps behind him as SYDNEY catches up to him and grabs his elbow.)

SYDNEY: Fuck, I'm sorry, Ash... I mean, I knew Rosey was an asshole, but I didn't think he'd do anything like that...

(ASHLEY yanks his arm out of SYDNEY's hand.)

ASHLEY: (shaking voice) Just get away from me. Go help your little 'friend' Rosey.

SYDNEY: (heatedly) FUCK Rosey. He's a jerk. If he ever pulls shit like that again, I'll hit him myself.

(ASHLEY swipes his arm across his eyes, still angry. His knuckles are white on the strap of his backpack, and he refuses to look at SYDNEY.)

SYDNEY: (more quietly) I'm really sorry, Ash. C'mon, I promised you a ride home...

ASHLEY: Yeah...

(SYDNEY gazes at ASHLEY with concern for a moment, then throws his arms around the larger boy's waist and gives him a quick hug. The utterly startled ASHLEY stares down at SYDNEY, arms akimbo, unsure whether he should return the embrace or not. After a brief moment, SYDNEY drops his arms and steps back, beaming at ASHLEY.)

SYDNEY: C'mon, my bike's parked out here.

(SYDNEY clatters off down the hall. After a moment, ASHLEY follows.)

(SCENE: Inside the drama room. ROSENCRANTZ is standing by the large bank of windows that line one wall, moodily pulling from a squeeze-bottle of water and staring out at the street in front of the high school. All the girls are quietly sewing, occasionally nervously glancing at ROSENCRANTZ but not saying anything. A thin thread of blood runs down ROSENCRANTZ's belly from his navel piercing, which ASHLEY struck dead on.)
(ROSENCRANTZ's eye is caught by a small motorcycle zipping by, driven by SYDNEY. ASHLEY is riding pillion behind SYDNEY, his arms rather stiffly around SYDNEY's waist. After a moment, ROSENCRANTZ turns his head and spits.)

(SCENE: In the parking lot of a fairly nondescript apartment complex, about a mile from the school. SYDNEY's small motorcycle pulls into the parking lot, and pulls over into a parking spot which ASHLEY points out. SYDNEY sticks one leg out and braces the bike, which is idling with a 'sput-sput-sput' noise. ASHLEY carefully gets off the bike, trying not to kick SYDNEY or stumble, and hefts his backpack over his shoulder again. ASHLEY's expression is back to normal, and only a slight redness of the eyes betrays his earlier emotions.)

ASHLEY: ... thanks for the ride.

SYDNEY: Sure, any time. Thanks for helping with the flats...

ASHLEY: Yeah. Sure, no problem.

SYDNEY: ... and I'm sorry...

ASHLEY: Forget it. Not your fault.

SYDNEY: ... I guess not. But I still feel bad, you know?

ASHLEY: ... s'okay.

(ASHLEY stares at SYDNEY for a moment, who gazes gravely back.)

ASHLEY: ... you want to come in for a bit? My mom won't be home from work for a few hours yet...

SYDNEY: ... wish I could. But I gotta get home, it's almost dark...

ASHLEY: Oh. Oh well. I'll, uh, I'll see you at school tomorrow then.

SYDNEY: Yeah, see you then. Ash.

(SYDNEY revs the bike as ASHLEY steps back onto the curb. ASHLEY watches SYDNEY drive away; at the last moment SYDNEY looks back and waves. ASHLEY raises his hand in response before heading into one of the ground-floor apartments.)

(SCENE: MR. BARDORBA's classroom, the next morning. This is first period, so people are only slowly filtering in. CALLO is here, in a simple and obviously expensive dark blue silk dress, checking over her math homework and chewing on the eraser-end of her pencil. DUANE and GRISSOM are both here, as well, wasting time and, again, trying not to stare too obviously at CALLO. SYDNEY is also here, in his usual seat. Instead of all black, like yesterday, SYDNEY is wearing very tight faded bluejeans and a blousy white silk shirt that appears to lace up the front. He's still wearing the little gold specs and the earring, and -- again -- the fingerless black leather gloves.)
(ROMEO and SAMANTHA enter the room together, holding hands. ROMEO's left ear is slightly reddened, with a small scabbed cut on the lobe. ROMEO shoots SYDNEY a hate-filled glare, but chooses not to pursue anything right now, and flops down in his seat. A moment later, ROSENCRANTZ enters the room, wearing a particularly noticeable shirt of vibrant iridescent purple satin. The front of ROSENCRANTZ's hair has been gelled down into long slick bangs, in a conscious or unconscious mockery of ASHLEY's hair. ROSENCRANTZ heads towards his usual seat. A moment before he gets there, however, SYDNEY casually drops his backpack into ROSENCRANTZ's usual seat.)

SYDNEY: Why don't you find some other place to sit, Rosey?

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song) Why don't you suck my crevices, Sydney?

SYDNEY: Fuck you, Rosey. That was some cruel shit you pulled yesterday.

ROSENCRANTZ: (suddenly low-voiced and vicious) Yeah, and usually you'd think it was funny, too. AND I see you're wearing your flirty-shirty today. You have designs on little miss Ash-u-ree, I suspect?

SYDNEY: Again and forever, go fuck yourself, Rosey.

ROSENCRANTZ: (still vicious) Maybe I'll tell your little ass-buddy some STORIES, Sydney... wouldn't you like that? Wouldn't you like miss Ashley to know...?

SYDNEY: ...

ASHLEY: (from behind ROSENCRANTZ) Like me to know what?

(ROSENCRANTZ spins around, quickly but balletically. SYDNEY sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. ASHLEY is gazing levelly at ROSENCRANTZ, the slightest hint of a smile on his face; ASHLEY is wearing a loose button-down shirt of nubbly dark blue cotton and a pair of spotless white trousers. Clasped around his wrist is a heavy bracelet of squarish copper links, much like the silver bracelet that SYDNEY was wearing yesterday. With a start, ROSENCRANTZ realizes for the first time that ASHLEY is as tall as he is.)

ASHLEY: Fuck off, Rosey. I've seen the crap you pull. You could tell me the sky was blue and I wouldn't believe it.

(ASHLEY pushes his way past ROSENCRANTZ, rudely. SYDNEY pulls his backpack out of ROSENCRANTZ's usual seat just as ASHLEY sits down in it, as smooth as if they'd rehearsed it. ROSENCRANTZ gazes at them both for a moment, eyes narrowed, then shrugs elaborately and slithers across the classroom, taking the empty seat on the other side of TIEGER. NEESA and TIEGER both turn their heads to gaze at ROSENCRANTZ for a moment, then ignore him completely.)

ASHLEY: ... hey.

SYDNEY: ... hey yourself.

CALLO: (walking up) Hi Ash! Hi Sydney.

ASHLEY: Hey, Callo.

SYDNEY: (suddenly back to his normal charming self) And good morning to you, lovely miss Callo!

(HARDIN, who has entered the room by this point, is watching CALLO, looking rather uncertain, but not quite frowning. ROSENCRANTZ and ROMEO are both watching as well.)

CALLO: (low voice) Samantha said you two had a fight with Romeo yesterday?

SYDNEY: ... yeah, sort of.

ASHLEY: Wasn't much of a fight.

CALLO: That's something, I guess... look, I don't mean to be nosy, Ash, but I know you're new here... anyway, try not to get on Romeo's bad side if you can. He's the captain of the football team and the principal lets him get away with murder because of it.

(CALLO's eyes flash. HARDIN, who has walked up to join the group, nods solemnly.)

HARDIN: It's a damn shame, really. But as long as the football team keeps winning games, the school's not going to do anything that might keep Romeo from playing.

SYDNEY: And, of course, dear Romeo is a psychotic bastard to begin with.

(CALLO turns red. HARDIN stiffens a bit, the tips of his ears going red as well.)

CALLO: Sydney!

SYDNEY: Oh, what? It's true, even if you're too kind to say so.

ASHLEY: Yeah. It's kind of too late for the warning, but... uh... thanks anyway.

HARDIN: What, you got in some kind of trouble with Romeo?

(CALLO quickly fills HARDIN in, with ASHLEY and SYDNEY filling in some of the details.)

HARDIN: That's tough. I hope you don't get in any trouble with him...

ASHLEY: Yeah, so do I.

(MR. BARDORBA enters the room at this point, and the students start filtering to their seats.)

HARDIN: See you guys after class.

(HARDIN makes his way back to his seat. CALLO starts to head off to hers, as well, then stops and leans over towards ASHLEY.)

CALLO: I like your shirt!

ASHLEY: Huh? Oh, thanks...

(CALLO beams at ASHLEY, pats him on the shoulder, and heads back to her seat. SYDNEY leans over to ASHLEY.)

SYDNEY: I like your shirt too, you great big raving hunk of fashion you.

ASHLEY: Heh. Yours is very... uh...

SYDNEY: Achingly sexy?

ASHLEY: ... that too.

(SYDNEY grins.)

SYDNEY: I see you've made quite the impression on young Callo! I hope your intentions are honorable?

ASHLEY: ... Callo? You think?

SYDNEY: Absolutely. Lady-Killer Ash, that's you.

ASHLEY: Hah. Like anything would ever come of THAT.

SYDNEY: How do you mean?

ASHLEY: Well, look at her! She's obviously got money, she's on the student council...

SYDNEY: She's vice-president...

ASHLEY: Right, vice-president of the student council, rich, friends with at least one of the cheerleaders... that kind of girl wouldn't go for me in a million years.

SYDNEY: ... well, then, she's a damn fool.

(ASHLEY blinks at SYDNEY, just as the final bell rings. MR. BARDORBA clears his throat.)

MR. BARDORBA: Good morning, class. Now, as I was saying yesterday...

(After a moment, ASHLEY looks away from SYDNEY and starts trying to pay attention. Unseen by ASHLEY, SYDNEY looks down at his desk and allows himself a quiet, cat-faced smile.)

(SCENE: The lunchroom, again. The scene is much the same: CALLO and ASHLEY are sitting together, talking about nothing much or not talking at all. DUANE and GRISSOM are in their usual places, doing the usual thing, although they appear to have brought sandwiches today instead of soup. ASHLEY has a piece of paper in front of him and is doing his math homework while he eats.)

ASHLEY: I can't believe I have to take Geometry again. I took it last year in my old school...

CALLO: Well, at least that means you already know the material, right?

ASHLEY: I guess...

(Unseen by either ASHLEY or CALLO, ROMEO is standing at the door of the lunchroom, staring at ASHLEY with narrowed eyes. After a moment, he seems to come to some decision, and heads towards ASHLEY, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. As he draws closer, however, he notices that ASHLEY is sitting with CALLO, and his stride falters a bit. He stops, glances from CALLO to ASHLEY to CALLO to ASHLEY, apparently undecided. Then, he notices DUANE and GRISSOM staring fearfully at him. Snarling at them, he then strides past ASHLEY. As he goes by, he casually smacks ASHLEY in the back of the head. ASHLEY's head snaps forward, but doesn't quite hit the table or his math homework. By the time ASHLEY recovers, ROMEO is already several tables further down and not showing any signs of slowing down. CALLO glares after ROMEO, as ASHLEY rubs his neck and winces.)

CALLO: God, he IS an... an...

ASHLEY: 'Asshole'?

(CALLO blushes.)

CALLO: (small voice) ... yes. (normally) Are you okay?

ASHLEY: I think so...

(ASHLEY quickly twists his head from side to side, producing a couple of popping noises. Then, rubbing his neck, he settles back down. CALLO looks at ASHLEY for a moment, then starts digging around in her purse.)

CALLO: Here...

ASHLEY: Huh?

(CALLO shakes a couple of pills from a small bottle of aspirin. Putting the capped bottle back in her purse, she then reaches out and drops the two white pills into ASHLEY's hand.)

CALLO: I bet that's going to really ache in a couple of hours...

ASHLEY: ... thanks.

(ASHLEY swallows the two pills with his can of Coke.)

ASHLEY: (ironic) And shame on you, you filthy drug pusher.

(ASHLEY winks at CALLO, but she doesn't seem to notice.)

CALLO: Oh, oh no, they're just ASPIRIN, nothing to be ashamed of... although you're not really supposed to bring any kind of pills to school...

(ASHLEY gazes at CALLO for a moment, an odd frowning twist to his mouth. Then he shrugs.)

ASHLEY: Nah, don't worry about it, I was just being silly.

CALLO: Oh. Heh.

(CALLO essays a brief smile, but it's obvious that she didn't quite get the joke.)

(SCENE: After school, out on that small lawn behind the auditorium. SYDNEY and ASHLEY are once again painting the flats. In a concession to the weather, SYDNEY is wearing a red t-shirt with his bike shorts today; the t-shirt has been knotted up to expose his midriff (and also to keep from dangling in the paint). ASHLEY is wearing a white tank top and a pair of scruffy old khaki shorts. Both boys are barefoot. In sharp contrast to yesterday, both boys' backpacks are out here, nestled together against the auditorium wall.)

SYDNEY: So he hit you?

ASHLEY: Well, he smacked the back of my head and ran...

SYDNEY: ... and RAN?

ASHLEY: ... yeah, sort of. I mean, he didn't really slow down when he hit me, and he just kept moving... but he was walking kind of fast.

SYDNEY: Ha! You've scared poor Romeo!

ASHLEY: Ha! Yeah, I guess he was afraid I might have another yardstick on me...

(Both boys laugh. SYDNEY manages to smear pale green paint on his knuckles.)

ASHLEY: (calming down) But it hurt. Man, that guy is strong...

SYDNEY: Well, that's why he's the captain of the football team, and I'm not, right?

ASHLEY: Could you even lift a football helmet?

SYDNEY: Shut up! Don't make me hit you with the paint again!

ASHLEY: (mockingly) Nooooo! Don't hit me any more!

(SYDNEY waves his roller mock-threateningly at ASHLEY, who pretends to cringe. Suddenly, SYDNEY's expression changes.)

SYDNEY: Whoa! Careful! You're kneeling on the flat!

(ASHLEY jerks back. Sure enough, two huge half-moons of green paint are smeared on his legs from knee to mid-shin. The flat isn't damaged, though.)

ASHLEY: Aw, hell.

SYDNEY: Did you rip the flat?

ASHLEY: ... no, don't think so... gotta repaint this part, though.

(SCENE: In the boys' dressing room, an hour or so later. SYDNEY is washing the paint out of the rollers, while ASHLEY scrubs at the paint on his knees and swears.)

ASHLEY: Damn, this stuff's impossible to get off!

SYDNEY: Tell me about it... once it dries, you have to use your nails and scrape at it.

(ASHLEY stares at his square, blunt hand. The nails have been clipped off very short. SYDNEY notices this and rolls his eyes.)

SYDNEY: Bah, here, let me.

(SYDNEY flops down on his knees in front of ASHLEY and starts vigorously scraping at ASHLEY's knees with his fingernails. ASHLEY howls.)

ASHLEY: OW fuck your nails are sharp!

SYDNEY: Oh, shut up, it's working, isn't it?

(Long curls of dried green paint are, indeed, coming off ASHLEY's knees. After a moment, the majority of the paint is gone... but SYDNEY seems content to stay kneeling in front of ASHLEY, scraping off the tiny scraps of paint that remain. ASHLEY's knees are turning bright red from the onslaught.)

ASHLEY: Man, that stings.

SYDNEY: Bah, crybaby.

ASHLEY: Hey, fuck you!

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song, from the doorway) Yes, Ashley, why don't you fuck him? He wants you to!

(SYDNEY whirls around, still on his knees. ASHLEY growls.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (sing-song) What a charmin' picture! Pretty little Sydney down on his knees for the big bad Ashley! Just wait until I tell the girls!

(ASHLEY roars and leaps up, meaning to attack ROSENCRANTZ again. However, he trips over SYDNEY and goes sprawling, skidding on the carpet. ROSENCRANTZ sniggers and darts from the doorway, letting the door bang shut. ASHLEY and SYDNEY, both sprawled out on the floor, can hear ROSENCRANTZ's running footsteps fade into the distance.)

SYDNEY: (muffled) They always run from you, don't they?

ASHLEY: Guess so.

SYDNEY: (muffled) By the way, mind getting off me?

(ASHLEY groans and rolls over onto his back. SYDNEY sits up, his ponytail in complete disarray, and sees ASHLEY gloomily contemplating his bleeding hands. SYDNEY makes a little hissing noise and winces.)

SYDNEY: Carpet burn?

ASHLEY: ... yeah.

SYDNEY: Shit. I'm sorry, I should have moved... hey, your knees are bleeding too...

ASHLEY: THAT's definitely your fault, those claws of yours.

SYDNEY: Bah. Here, hang on, don't move...

(SYDNEY leaps up and grabs a handful of paper towels, wetting them in the sink. Flinging himself back down on his knees next to the recumbent ASHLEY, SYDNEY gently wipes the blood off ASHLEY's abused knees. ASHLEY hisses.)

SYDNEY: Wuss. Here...

(SYDNEY hands ASHLEY a couple of extra damp towels. ASHLEY wraps his palms in them while SYDNEY tends to his knees.)

ASHLEY: I hate him.

SYDNEY: I can't blame you.

ASHLEY: I mean, Romeo? Sure he hates me, but all he wants to do is beat the shit out of me. Rosey wants to make everyone else hate me too.

SYDNEY: Yeah.

ASHLEY: Slimy little bastard.

(SYDNEY bites his lower lip, still sponging lightly at ASHLEY's knees.)

SYDNEY: ... I feel like this is all my fault.

ASHLEY: Oh, absolutely, you created Rosey out of clay just to annoy me.

SYDNEY: No, really. If I hadn't dragged you to drama club, he wouldn't have targeted you like that yesterday.

ASHLEY: Well, okay, maybe that's true. But you've got to stop trying to accept the blame for every little thing that happens to me.

(SYDNEY frowns and leans on ASHLEY's bent knees, staring intently at ASHLEY.)

SYDNEY: I don't know. You wouldn't have gotten into that conflict with Romeo yesterday if I hadn't been mouthing off...

ASHLEY: I didn't have to get involved, you know. I could have just let you suffer the beating you richly deserved.

SYDNEY: Pfah. And then Rosey pulls that crap with your journal... I think I -am- to blame for most of this crap.

ASHLEY: No you're not. I'm the one that hit Romeo, and I'm the one that hit Rosey. I guess you might have started it, but I finished it, you know?

(SYDNEY stares at ASHLEY for a moment more, his expression uncertain. Then, with a mental effort, SYDNEY slips back into his normal self.)

SYDNEY: And I am forever grateful to you, sah! Resortin' to fisticuffs to defend li'l ol' me...

(SYDNEY leaps to his feet. Grabbing ASHLEY by the wrists, he helps pull ASHLEY to his feet. ASHLEY stares at his still-bleeding knees and palms, then at his white pants. SYDNEY grins and folds up ASHLEY's pants and shirt, sticking them in ASHLEY's backpack.)

SYDNEY: I think you're going home like that.

ASHLEY: Think you're right.

(Wincing a little at his stinging palms, ASHLEY pulls on his shoes and socks. SYDNEY turns around, yanking his t-shirt off over his head and stepping out of his bike shorts. Wearing only a pair of brilliant yellow bikini briefs, SYDNEY pushes casually past ASHLEY to where his clothes are hanging. He pulls the white shirt over his head and steps into his jeans, then turns around to face ASHLEY. ASHLEY is very studiously not watching SYDNEY, but instead rewrapping his hands.)

SYDNEY: ... need a ride home again?

ASHLEY: (distracted) Yeah, thanks...

(SYDNEY stuffs his painting clothes into his backpack, and he and ASHLEY both head out to where SYDNEY's bike is parked.)

(SCENE: The parking lot outside ASHLEY's apartment. SYDNEY pulls his bike into an appropriate parking spot, and puts out one leg to brace the bike. ASHLEY swings his leg over the back of the bike, and turns to face SYDNEY. ASHLEY starts to smile, then abruptly frowns.)

ASHLEY: Aw, hell.

SYDNEY: Hm? What?

ASHLEY: I got... argh.

(ASHLEY gestures at SYDNEY's midsection. SYDNEY blinks and looks down... to see two splotchy bloody handprints on his white silk shirt.)

SYDNEY: Aw shit! It would be my silk shirt, too...

ASHLEY: Come on in, you can wash it before the blood dries...

SYDNEY: Good idea.

(SYDNEY quickly keys off the motorcycle and swings down the kickstand, then follows ASHLEY into his apartment. The apartment is smallish and nondescript, and furnished with a really odd assortment of furniture; about half the furniture is obviously expensive, and the other half is just as obviously mass-produced stuff. SYDNEY immediately heads for the small kitchen area, yanking his shirt off over his head.)

ASHLEY: We've got a washing machine over here...

SYDNEY: (slightly muffled) Nah, not with silk... I'll just soak it in the sink.

(SYDNEY proceeds to do so, filling the kitchen sink halfway and swirling the shirt around in the cold water. After a few moments, he turns the water off and heads out of the kitchen, drying his hands on his jeans.)

ASHLEY: I'm sorry.

SYDNEY: Nah, it's okay. I guess we're even, huh?

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: Just kidding, just kidding. So which one of these is your room?

(SYDNEY, bare-chested, stalks off down the short hallway that ends in three doors. With an unerring sense of direction, SYDNEY turns right into the smaller bedroom, which is, in fact, ASHLEY's. ASHLEY puts his backpack on the kitchen table next to SYDNEY's and carefully pulls out his school clothes, trying not to get blood on them. Clothes clamped under his arm, he heads down towards his room... to discover that SYDNEY is buried in his closet, poking through his wardrobe.)

ASHLEY: Hey!

SYDNEY: (muffled) Well, I can't just laze around without a shirt on, what WOULD your mother think? So I'm going to borrow one of yours!

ASHLEY: Oh, I see. Why not wear the t-shirt you were painting in?

SYDNEY: It's all sweaty! Plus this is a great excuse to be nosy... oooooooooooh!

(ASHLEY groans.)

ASHLEY: Put the red shirt down, Sydney.

(SYDNEY, rumpled, appears from the closet. In his hand is, yes, a bright red shirt. The shirt in question has blousy sleeves, large ruffled cuffs, and discreet ruffles down the front, which appears to close with ribbon ties. SYDNEY beams and puts the red shirt on, even though it's obviously two sizes too large for him. ASHLEY takes one look at SYDNEY in this flapping monstrosity and falls on the bed laughing.)

SYDNEY: Oh, hush! Wherever DID you get this darling shirt?

ASHLEY: Heh heh... my ex-girlfriend and I were going to the Renaissance Faire a couple of years ago... anyway, she really really wanted to go in costume, so she got me that and made me wear it.

(SYDNEY makes an effort to tuck in the shirt and adjust all the ruffles and folds. A good third of SYDNEY's chest shows through the deep V-neck opening, but after some adjustment, the shirt ceases to look quite so ridiculous on him. ASHLEY grins.)

SYDNEY: Ex-girlfriend, hmmmmm? Well, she had EXQUISITE taste...

(SYDNEY turns to the mirror on the closet door and preens, adjusting his ponytail.)

ASHLEY: You think? Gee, maybe if I wore that red monstrosity to school Rosey would like me...

SYDNEY: Yeah, but Romeo would just want to kick your ass more... and it is not a monstrosity, either. See?

(SYDNEY spins around and strikes a pose... and the shirt does, indeed and all of a sudden, look excellent on him. What used to look two sizes too big now looks softly draped. The loose cuffs hide his hands, but his long pale fingers extend from the sleeves; the ruffled front is very loosely tied, revealing about half of his pale narrow chest. ASHLEY sobers up and stares at SYDNEY for a moment.)

ASHLEY: Yes, well. I certainly couldn't make it look that good.

SYDNEY: I don't believe you... but I do thank you for the compliment!

(SYDNEY grins, bringing one hand up to finger the ruffle at his throat. After a moment, ASHLEY grunts and stands back up.)

ASHLEY: I need to go put some goop on my hands...

SYDNEY: Ooooh, yes, good idea. Mind if I call my parents while you do that, so they know where I am?

ASHLEY: Sure, go ahead, phone's in the kitchen.

(ASHLEY heads across the hall, into the small bathroom there. SYDNEY, meanwhile, heads back into the kitchen. After swishing the shirt around in the sink a few more times, he picks up the phone and makes a quick call.)

SYDNEY: (into the phone, obviously speaking to an answering machine) Hi, Mom, Dad, it's me... anyway, I've stopped off at a friend's house for a couple of hours, so don't wait dinner on me. Bye!

(SYDNEY hangs up the phone and spends a moment readjusting his cuffs. He glances towards the short hallway that leads to ASHLEY's bedroom, and licks his lips unconsciously. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and heads down that way.)

(SCENE: In the small bathroom opposite ASHLEY's bedroom. ASHLEY, still in shorts and tanktop, has finished cleaning his scraped knees and put some sort of medicinal goop on them. SYDNEY appears in the doorway just as ASHLEY pours hydrogen peroxide on one of his hands. ASHLEY grimaces, staring at the bubbling white mess on his palm.)

SYDNEY: Yowtch...

ASHLEY: No shit.

(SYDNEY lounges decoratively in the doorway, watching ASHLEY. ASHLEY looks up and meets SYDNEY's eyes in the mirror. SYDNEY grins. ASHLEY snorts and pours hydrogen peroxide on his other hand, then picks up the small open tube of ointment. His attempt to handle the tube without touching the palms of his hands fails, though, and the tube clatters to the floor.)

ASHLEY: Dammit!

SYDNEY: Ah, hell, here, let me.

(Before ASHLEY can protest, SYDNEY darts into the tiny bathroom and scoops up the tube. Squeezing out a swirl of the clear stuff onto his hand, SYDNEY grabs one of ASHLEY's hands and rubs the ointment firmly into his shredded palm.)

ASHLEY: OW shit!

SYDNEY: For a big guy, you sure are a wimp...

ASHLEY: Would you quit it with the wimp jokes already?!

(SYDNEY glances up, startled. ASHLEY is glaring at him, frustrated.)

SYDNEY: ... I'm sorry. Geez, my mouth gets me in all sorts of trouble...

(SYDNEY squeezes out another dab and moves on to ASHLEY's other hand. He's not rubbing quite so hard, though, and he's cradling ASHLEY's hand in one hand while rubbing with the other. After about a minute, it becomes clear that SYDNEY, half-hypnotized, doesn't seem to want to stop rubbing.)

ASHLEY: You know, I think that's enough.

SYDNEY: Huh? Oh... yeah...

(SYDNEY fetches the cap and screws it back on. Opening the medicine cabinet, he discovers it stuffed to overflowing with all kinds of medicine and first-aid stuff.)

SYDNEY: Whoa...

ASHLEY: Huh? Oh. Yeah. Mom's a nurse...

SYDNEY: Guess you're ready for anything...

(SYDNEY finds a place to wedge the tube, and carefully gets the cabinet shut again, while ASHLEY rubs his palms together and winces. After washing his hands, SYDNEY precedes ASHLEY out of the bathroom and into ASHLEY's room again; SYDNEY flings himself dramatically full-length on the narrow twin bed, the red shirt settling into soft billows around him. ASHLEY pulls out the computer chair and spins it around, sitting in it backwards, gazing at SYDNEY on the bed.)

SYDNEY: Terribly uncomfortable... and narrow to boot! How DO you keep the girls entertained with a horrible monk's bed like this?

(ASHLEY snorts.)

ASHLEY: God, you must have me confused with Rosey. I don't have a harem.

SYDNEY: Whyever not?! Harems are such fun... but I suppose you HAVE only been in school for two days. These things take time!

(SYDNEY rolls over onto his stomach and casually yanks open the drawer in ASHLEY's bedside table, poking through it.)

ASHLEY: Hey! Nosy bastard, it ever occur to you that might be private?

SYDNEY: (blithely) Nope!

(SYDNEY continues to poke around in the drawer. ASHLEY fidgets.)

SYDNEY: Hmmmm... pencils, a big fat eraser, half a bag of pretzels... oooooh, nice bracelet!

(SYDNEY pulls out a heavy silver coil with gold endcaps and casually puts it on his own wrist, then keeps poking.)

SYDNEY: Class ring, two more bracelets... you fashion plate!... bundle of letters, don't freak, I won't read them... is this an earring?... kleenex... oooooh, CONDOMS! Aren't you just ready for every possibility?!

(ASHLEY grins and turns slightly pink, as SYDNEY holds up a handful of condoms in little blue wrappers.)

ASHLEY: Yeah, well, like I said, Mom's a nurse...

SYDNEY: And apparently she's realistic as well! Ooooh, what's this?

(SYDNEY roots something large-ish out of the very back of the drawer, where it was wedged behind the packet of letters. ASHLEY suddenly becomes very, very still indeed, as SYDNEY pulls out a fairly large and half-empty bottle of hand lotion. SYDNEY gazes at ASHLEY and quirks one eyebrow amusedly; ASHLEY turns bright red and looks away, scratching the back of his head.)

ASHLEY: ... shit, put that away.

(Without a single word, SYDNEY puts everything neatly back into the drawer, except the coil bracelet, and shuts it firmly. Then he flops back onto his back on the bed, and plays idly with the coil bracelet.)

SYDNEY: ... so what do you do for dinner, if your mom works so late?

ASHLEY: ... huh? How'd you...

SYDNEY: You said so yesterday, that your mom wouldn't be home for hours... does she work the evening shift?

ASHLEY: ... yeah... I usually just eat at the Wendy's across the street... I don't really know where anything else is yet.

SYDNEY: Oh, well, in THAT case, c'mon, I'll buy you dinner! There's this great little diner just a couple of blocks away, and it's twenty-four hours to boot...

(SYDNEY swings his feet off the bed and stands up, adjusting the red shirt.)

ASHLEY: ... you're going to be seen in public in THAT?

SYDNEY: Sure! Why not? Although I don't know if I can stand to be seen with you, you tattered scruffy vagabond you...

ASHLEY: Oh, shut up. Get out of my room and I'll change.

SYDNEY: Awww, I can't stay?

(SYDNEY bats his eyes at ASHLEY, who groans.)

ASHLEY: ... grgh, fine, suit yourself, you lech.

(ASHLEY stands up and roots carefully through his closet, trying not to get any ointment on his clothes. After a moment, he pulls out a faded pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt.)

SYDNEY: Fancy!

ASHLEY: (with no real rancor) Shut up.

(ASHLEY turns his back on SYDNEY and strips off the tank top and shorts, revealing the fact that he had neglected to wear underwear underneath the shorts. SYDNEY's eyes pop, unseen by ASHLEY, who's rummaging around in his chest of drawers. After a moment, ASHLEY pulls out a pair of dark red boxers and steps into them, then quickly pulls on the jeans and t-shirt. He turns back to the closet and digs out a pair of black hightop sneakers, and something else that SYDNEY can't quite make out. SYDNEY quickly feigns disinterest, and just in time, as ASHLEY flops back into the chair and pulls his shoes on.)

ASHLEY: (with a hint of sarcasm) Enjoy the view?

SYDNEY: Oh, without a doubt. Do you always go au naturel, or was that just for my benefit?

(ASHLEY snorts.)

ASHLEY: Those are swim trunks, you ass.

SYDNEY: Ohhh, I see. Such a pity... if you had done it on purpose, I would have had no choice but to fling my tender body into your arms...

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: ... what? Too much? I'm sorry. I'll behave.

ASHLEY: You'll behave badly, you mean.

SYDNEY: Don't I always?

ASHLEY: (vehemently) YES.

(SYDNEY grins, then abruptly sobers as he looks over at ASHLEY, who looks a bit grim again.)

SYDNEY: Shit. Okay, look, I'm sorry... I told you my mouth was always getting me into trouble. I'm just teasing, okay? If it really bugs you, feel free to hit me or something. Everyone else does.

ASHLEY: ... I'm not going to hit you. Just... try and tone it down a bit, okay?

SYDNEY: (abashed) Yeah, okay. I'm not taking the shirt off, though.

ASHLEY: Heh. Fine. Oh, and if you lose that bracelet, I'll kill you. Okay?

SYDNEY: I wouldn't dream of it!

ASHLEY: Heh. Forgetting to take it off and taking it home with you counts as 'losing' it, Sydney.

SYDNEY: Aw, you're no fun at all.

(Shoes on, ASHLEY now quickly yanks on a pair of fingerless black leather gloves, just like SYDNEY's. Both SYDNEY and ASHLEY stare at ASHLEY's hands for a moment. SYDNEY is grinning widely.)

ASHLEY: Don't get any funny ideas. I'm just wearing them to protect my scraped-up hands and keep goop out of my food, okay?

SYDNEY: (singsong) Okay~! Hey, twins!

ASHLEY: Oh, shut up.

SYDNEY: Make me!

(SYDNEY sashays from the room, grinning. ASHLEY stares after him, an odd smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. After a moment, ASHLEY follows him out.)

(SCENE: At the diner. It's a fairly large, well-lit place, and most of the tables are full when ASHLEY and SYDNEY get there. Without stopping at the hostess stand, SYDNEY half-dances off into the main room. Several of the tables feature high-school-age people, most of whom SYDNEY seems to know by name. ASHLEY trails along behind SYDNEY, looking a bit bemused at the antics of the red-clad sprite.)

SYDNEY: Oh hey!

(Without turning around, SYDNEY grabs ASHLEY by his shirtfront and starts dragging him somewhere. ASHLEY starts to protest, reaching up to grab at SYDNEY's wrist, before he notices he's being dragged towards a booth that contains CALLO and SAMANTHA. Startled and at a loss, ASHLEY drops his hand and allows himself to be dragged.)

SYDNEY: Miss Callo! Missus Samantha! And a very good evening to you both, I trust it finds you well?

(Letting go of ASHLEY's t-shirt, SYDNEY sweeps into a very deep and theatrical bow. SAMANTHA turns red and giggles. CALLO smiles at SYDNEY, then turns her smile on ASHLEY.)

CALLO: Sydney! Ash! How's it going? I like your shirt, Sydney, is it new?

SYDNEY: Oh, heavens, this old thing? It's Ash's.

(ASHLEY turns a bit pink. SAMANTHA looks confused. CALLO, on the other hand, looks bemused, and her practiced smile slips, just a tiny bit.)

SAMANTHA: You guys are so weird...

SYDNEY: I prefer 'fascinating', myself. So what are you two lovely ladies up to?

CALLO: Oh, nothing much, just having some dinner and chatting. I barely get to see Sam any more since she started dating Romeo, but since he's at a late practice...

ASHLEY: Uh. In that case, I guess we ought to stop bugging you two...

SYDNEY: Aww. But he's right... au revoir, beautiful ladies!

(SYDNEY blows them each a kiss and zips off, thumping into a corner booth with authority. ASHLEY waves awkwardly to the blushing SAMANTHA and the smiling CALLO, then goes over and plunks down in the booth opposite SYDNEY.)

ASHLEY: You're shameless, you know that?

SYDNEY: I can't help it. Samantha brings out the worst in me.

(SYDNEY grins wickedly.)

ASHLEY: Shouldn't we tell them we're here, or something?

SYDNEY: Oh, nah. This is my table, they know I'll be here...

(A waitress approaches, almost instantly, and puts a thermal carafe of coffee next to SYDNEY without being asked.)

WAITRESS: Hey, Sydney. In early tonight...

SYDNEY: Yeah, I thought I might eat dinner before midnight, for once... Dotty, this is my friend Ash.

DOTTY: Hi Ash. What can I get you to drink?

ASHLEY: Uh... Dr Pepper.

DOTTY: Be right back!

(DOTTY wanders off to get ASHLEY's drink. SYDNEY busies himself with the coffee,  adding far too many packets of sugar and enough cream to turn the coffee pale gold. After just a moment, DOTTY comes back with the Dr Pepper and plunks it down in front of ASHLEY, then races off to deal with another table.)

ASHLEY: How can you drink that crap?

SYDNEY: What? Coffee? The question is, how can YOU drink THAT crap? All that sugar's going to make you fat and weak!

ASHLEY: Oh, you're one to talk about sugar!

SYDNEY: Bah. The extra caffeine cancels it out and gives me a lovely burst of energy to boot. Don't come crying to me when you're too weak to lift your head!

(SYDNEY reaches over and picks up two more sugar packets, just as ASHLEY's begloved hand flashes out and closes on SYDNEY's wrist. SYDNEY blinks and tries to tug his hand away, but ASHLEY manages to keep SYDNEY's arm in place without any trouble at all. SYDNEY tugs harder, watching the muscles flex in ASHLEY's forearm with some fascination.)

ASHLEY (lightly teasing undertones): Weak?

SYDNEY: Well... oof... I didn't mean NOW... urf... I meant later... unh... damn!

ASHLEY: Heh. See, I'm not a wimp, or a crybaby, or a weakling, like you keep calling me...

(ASHLEY tightens his grip on SYDNEY's wrist slightly, although not quite enough to hurt. SYDNEY makes a little squeaking noise and drops both packets of sugar.)

ASHLEY: ... got it?

SYDNEY: I got it, I got it! I was only kidding anyway... you know that.

ASHLEY: Can I let go, then?

SYDNEY: Oh... no, please don't...

(ASHLEY stares at SYDNEY for a moment, who grins. Then ASHLEY lets go of SYDNEY's wrist and runs his fingers through his hair, grinning ruefully. After a moment, ASHLEY's long bangs flop forward into his eyes again.)

ASHLEY: Damn, you're incorrigible.

SYDNEY: (singsong) And you only incorrige me further...

(ASHLEY groans. Just then, DOTTY returns.)

DOTTY: Ready to order, kids?

(ASHLEY and SYDNEY place their orders and DOTTY bustles off. SYDNEY picks up his coffee mug and sips, staring intently at ASHLEY over the rim of his mug. ASHLEY busies himself unwrapping a straw and putting it in his glass, not looking at SYDNEY. Unseen by SYDNEY and ASHLEY, CALLO and SAMANTHA pay at the register and leave.)

SYDNEY: Hey. Can I ask you a question?

ASHLEY: Uh... could I stop you? Go ahead.

SYDNEY: Why'd you move here? I mean, school's been in session for over a month now, it's not a good time to be moving...

(ASHLEY takes a sip of his drink, still not looking at SYDNEY.)

ASHLEY: I... uh... well, my parents just got divorced, and... my father got to keep the house... so Mom and I moved out here to be closer to her work...

SYDNEY: Oh geez, that sucks...

ASHLEY: Yeah. Yeah, it does.

SYDNEY: I'm sorry.

ASHLEY: Yeah. Me too.

(An uneasy silence falls. ASHLEY looks... not upset, but a bit distant, and SYDNEY is biting his lower lip. Finally:)

SYDNEY: Can I ask you another question?

ASHLEY: I guess.

SYDNEY: You mentioned an ex-girlfriend?

ASHLEY: Oh. Yeah. Tia. We... uh... we broke up when she found out I was moving away with Mom.

(SYDNEY winces, hard, a pained expression that involves most of his face. He brings up one hand and scrubs at his eyes.)

SYDNEY: God. Could I  be doing any worse with this conversation?

ASHLEY: Oh, probably. Your skill at worse never ceases to amaze me.

(SYDNEY snorts.)

SYDNEY: Actually, I know how I could make this conversation worse.

ASHLEY: Oh?

SYDNEY: Yeah. I could ask you about the bottle in your nightstand drawer.

(Now it's ASHLEY's turn to wince, and turn red as well.)

SYDNEY: See? Told you.

ASHLEY: Yeah. Yeah, that IS worse. Thank you SO much.

SYDNEY: I aim to please.

(Awkward moment of silence.)

ASHLEY: So... uh... so, now it's my turn to ask you a question, right?

SYDNEY: (with a certain amount of relief) Ask away! Anything you like! After all that, I owe you, right?

(ASHLEY falls silent for a moment, gazing at SYDNEY oddly. SYDNEY calmly returns the gaze, sipping at his coffee. Finally:)

ASHLEY: (a bit roughly) Are you gay?

(Silence. SYDNEY doesn't react at all; just continues to sip at his coffee and gaze at ASHLEY, who turns red, but can't seem to stop looking at SYDNEY. After a moment, SYDNEY calmly puts his coffee mug back on its saucer and folds his hands on the table in front of him.)

SYDNEY: ... yes and no.

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: Does that bother you?

ASHLEY: ... a little, I guess.

SYDNEY: Yeah. I can see that. Unfortunately, for asking me THAT question, you get to hear the standard-Sydney-sex-spiel.

ASHLEY: Oh god. What have I started?

SYDNEY: (for once, completely serious) Oh, be quiet. Okay, here's the deal. Yes, I am bisexual. No, that doesn't mean what you think it means.

ASHLEY: ... it doesn't?

SYDNEY: No. All it means is that I'm capable of being attracted to members of either gender. But I'm very, very selective. 

(SYDNEY holds up one hand and begins to tick points off on his fingers. It's obvious that he's given this little spiel before.)

SYDNEY: I don't sleep around, I don't force my attentions on anyone who's not interested, I don't give blowjobs to the entire football team. I flirt with everyone, but I hardly ever mean it. I'm not going to 'do' anything to you. Okay?

ASHLEY: Well, no, I didn't think you were. Going to do anything to me, I meant.

SYDNEY: ... yes, you did.

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: I like you. You're smart, and you're funny, and you're fun to hang around with. I hope you'll be my friend. I hope you can put up with my silliness. That's all I'm asking for.

ASHLEY: ... can I ask you another question?

SYDNEY: Sure, go ahead.

ASHLEY: Does that have anything to do with the 'stories' about you Rosey was talking about, this morning?

(SYDNEY sighs deeply, covering his eyes with one hand. After a moment:)

SYDNEY: (without removing his hand from his eyes) Yes and no.

ASHLEY: ... I shouldn't ask, should I.

SYDNEY: (still covering his eyes) I really wish you wouldn't.

ASHLEY: ...

SYDNEY: Trust me. If it ever becomes important for you to know, for whatever reason, I'll tell you. Okay?

ASHLEY: ... okay.

SYDNEY: ... can we please stop being serious now? I hate being serious.

ASHLEY: Well, I suppose. You asked me two questions, and I asked you two questions, so I guess we're even... oh, but wait, you made that crack about the bottle, didn't you?

SYDNEY: That wasn't a question!

ASHLEY: Well, no. But if you got to make a crack at me, I get to make a crack at you. It's only fair.

SYDNEY: Fair enough! Take your worst shot, sir. I am prepared!

(SYDNEY grips the edge of the table in both hands and grins.)

ASHLEY: Fine.

(ASHLEY stares at SYDNEY, uncommonly serious, eyes flat and powerful with some odd emotion. SYDNEY blinks, once, but doesn't fidget, caught in that gaze like a rabbit in the headlights. After a moment, ASHLEY finally breaks the hypnotized silence.)

ASHLEY: (voice low, words staccato) If you ARE trying to seriously flirt with me, if you're not just being silly, I want you to TELL me, you hear? I don't want to have to walk through every day wondering if you're being serious or not. I don't care what the answer IS, as long as you're honest. I'd like to think I can handle the answer.

(SYDNEY's jaw drops, a little, and he blinks repeatedly. Whatever he was expecting to hear, that wasn't it. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking for something to say, but stops dead when ASHLEY leans over and taps the back of his hand, once.)

ASHLEY: I'm not gay. At least, I sure as hell don't think so. But I don't want that to have anything to do with your answer. And you don't have to answer me right now.

SYDNEY: I... I, uh...

ASHLEY: (more normal voice) I think that's our food.

(SYDNEY's head jerks up. Sure enough, DOTTY is approaching with a tray.)

SYDNEY: (somewhat strangled) Will you excuse me a moment, please?

ASHLEY: (completely normal) Sure.

(ASHLEY takes another sip of his Dr Pepper as SYDNEY wriggles out of the booth and stalks off, just a bit unsteadily, towards the bathrooms. DOTTY swoops in and puts a bacon cheeseburger in front of ASHLEY, and a plate of fried shrimp in front of SYDNEY's empty seat. ASHLEY begins to eat, studiously not looking at anything. His face is tense.)

(SCENE: Inside the men's bathroom at the diner. The door bangs open and SYDNEY crashes in. Without stopping he flings himself into the largest stall and locks the door, then leans against the cool tile wall and scrubs at his eyes. He's trembling, hard; after a moment he wraps his arms around himself and rocks back and forth, eyes wide.)

SYDNEY: (under his breath) ... what the fuck was that? What happened? What did he DO?

(SYDNEY reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, then automatically fixes his ponytail.)

SYDNEY: (still under his breath) Why am I flipping out? What am I going to do? This is... this is gonna be bad...

(SCENE: Back out at the booth, just a few moments later. ASHLEY has just reached out and snitched a shrimp from SYDNEY's unattended plate.)

SYDNEY: (right behind ASHLEY) I saw that, you thief!

(ASHLEY utters a small strangled sound and jumps, dropping both the shrimp and his burger. SYDNEY insinuates himself back into the booth, and grins at ASHLEY, although it's not a completely effortless grin.)

SYDNEY: Nah, go ahead and have it, that's fine.

(Disdaining silverware, SYDNEY picks up a shrimp in his fingers and nibbles on it, not quite meeting ASHLEY's eyes. ASHLEY, for his part, grumblingly reassembles his burger, eating the shrimp in one giant bite. The rest of the meal is fairly quiet; both boys have their mouths full and aren't feeling too talkative, for some reason. As their dinners draw to a close, we see ROMEO and a few of the other football players enter the diner. Neither SYDNEY nor ASHLEY notices ROMEO, and ROMEO doesn't see them, tucked away in the high-backed booth. Because the main room is full, the football players are led off into the other room, the smoking section. Shortly thereafter, ASHLEY and SYDNEY finish eating, and DOTTY drops off the check.)

SYDNEY: Ready to go?

(SYDNEY picks up the check in one hand and slides out of the booth, heading towards the register. ASHLEY quickly finishes his drink and digs a five-dollar bill out of his wallet, dropping it on the table. Then he slides out of the booth as well and joins SYDNEY at the register. ROMEO, seated in the smoking section with his friends, happens to look up and notice them at the register. Immediately he freezes, his eyebrows drawing down as he glares furiously at SYDNEY and ASHLEY. Their backs to ROMEO, ASHLEY and SYDNEY don't notice him.)

ASHLEY: I got the tip.

SYDNEY: Hey, I told you I was buying, remember?

ASHLEY: Eh, so you owe me. No big deal.

SYDNEY: (just a tiny bit shakily) No. No big deal. Let's go.

(SYDNEY and ASHLEY finish up their business at the register. SYDNEY snags a mint from the bowl near the cash register, and after a moment, so does ASHLEY. They then head out into the night, followed by ROMEO's furious glare. Some of the other football players notice the thunderous look on ROMEO's face.)

PLAYER 1: Hey. Rome. What's up?

ROMEO: (quietly but venomously) I HATE that fucking faggot and his little new-kid boyfriend.

PLAYER 2: Huh? Who?

ROMEO: (still venomous) Sydney. Little squealy gay guy. And that... that Ash asshole.

PLAYER 1: Oh yeah, the little drama faggot. Shit, were they here?

ROMEO: Yeah. Gone now, though.

PLAYER 2: I don't know this Ash guy.

ROMEO: He's a goddamn asshole, that's what he is. I swear, I ever catch him alone, I'm going to feed him his own nuts.

PLAYER 1: Nah, feed his nuts to Sydney, Sydney'll like that.

PLAYER 2: How do you  know what Sydney likes, asshole?

(The tension at the table is lessened by the outburst of coarse laughter. The football players punch each other for a bit before settling down.)

ROMEO: I'm gonna get those two faggots, though. You see if I don't.

PLAYER 1: Serious shit, huh, Rome? You know we got your back if you need it.

PLAYER 2: Yeah, we're with you all the way, Rome.

VOICE: (singsong, from the next booth over) And I can tell you how to do it, if you want...

(Brief, startled silence. ROMEO half-stands and turns to see who's talking to him, but that isn't necessary; purple-shirted ROSENCRANTZ slides catlike out of the next booth and leans on the end of the football player's table, a half-smoked cigarette hanging out of his mouth like a bad James Dean impression. ROMEO sneers.)

ROMEO: Why should I listen to you? You're one of Sydney's assbuddy friends, 'Rosey'.

(The other football players mutter and shift, staring at ROSENCRANTZ with varying amounts of venom. ROSENCRANTZ doesn't seem to care; he just stares at ROMEO with half-lidded eyes, half a grin spreading across his face.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (low and venomous, in an excellent parody of ROMEO's earlier tones) You don't know a damn thing about what it means to hate Ash, let me tell you... you can talk about killing him all you want, but I know something even better... I want to see that little fucker SUFFER.

(ROMEO's eyes narrow and he stares back at ROSENCRANTZ. Then suddenly, he turns around and pushes at one of the other players.)

ROMEO: Shove over, asshole.

(Said football player shoves over, and so does ROMEO.)

ROMEO: Siddown, faggot. Let's talk.

(ROSENCRANTZ smirks and flows into the seat, cigarette held loosely between two fingers. One of the other football players shoves the ashtray at ROSENCRANTZ, who stubs out the butt. Then ROSENCRANTZ steeples his fingers in front of him, and smirks.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (singsong) The information has a price, I'm afraid, gentlemen.

(ROMEO growls, glaring at ROSENCRANTZ.)

ROMEO: Fuck your price. I'm not sucking your dick.

ROSENCRANTZ: (singsong) Oh, no. Nothing like that. If I want my dick sucked I've got other options...

(ROMEO chews on that for a moment, still glaring at ROSENCRANTZ.)

ROMEO: Okay. What's your goddamn price?

(ROSENCRANTZ abruptly sobers. Once all the playacting falls away, every ounce of meanness shines through. It's like looking at a snake.)

ROSENCRANTZ: (as close to serious as anyone has ever seen him) You leave Sydney out of your revenge shit, and I'll tell you how to make Ash-u-ree scream and wriggle and cryyyyyy...

(A strange light flickers on in the back of ROMEO's eyes, and a humorless grin spreads across his face.)

ROMEO: So I don't lay a finger on your little faggot friend, huh.

ROSENCRANTZ: (still close to serious) Exactly. I don't give a shit what you do to Ashley; castrate him, rape him, kill him, I could care less. Maybe after he's dead Sydney will stop being such a little shit.

(Dead silence. The other players are glancing at each other, starting to look kind of nervous. This is more serious than they were expecting. After a moment, ROMEO bursts into raucous laughter, startling pretty much everyone except ROSENCRANTZ.)

ROMEO: Aw, fuck, this is fucking priceless, you know? The jilted loverboy come to bargain for the life of his little cocksucker buddy... you really want him back, don't you? Faggot.

(ROMEO abruptly sobers.)

ROMEO: You got a deal, faggot. You tell me what I need to do to Ash, I'll leave Sydney alone unless he gets in my way.

(ROSENCRANTZ pulls out a pack of cigarettes and shakes one into his mouth, then offers the pack around the table. All the other football players stare at the pack as if hypnotized, but after a pause ROMEO takes one and sticks it in his mouth. ROSENCRANTZ lights them both, ROMEO cupping his hand around ROSENCRANTZ's lighter. After taking a deep drag and exhaling:)

ROSENCRANTZ: (singsong) Fair enough, Romeo. Fair enough. Listen closely...

(SCENE: Outside ASHLEY's apartment, again. It's dark now, and the sodium-vapor lights are starting to flicker on. SYDNEY's little motorcycle pulls into a parking spot, and SYDNEY shuts it off and puts down the kickstand. ASHLEY swings off the bike and heads for his apartment, SYDNEY right behind him.)

SYDNEY: Just let me get my shirt and backpack, and I'll get out of your hair. I need to get home anyway.

ASHLEY: Yeah, guess it is getting kind of late. You can wear the red thing home and give it back to me later. Hell, actually, keep it. It's not like I ever wear it.

SYDNEY: Really? Hey, thanks!

ASHLEY: No problem. You can't keep the bracelet, though.

SYDNEY: Awwww.

(SYDNEY and ASHLEY enter the apartment. SYDNEY pulls the white shirt out of the sink and stares at it for a moment, then wrings it out. ASHLEY pulls out a big Ziploc bag and hands it to SYDNEY, who puts the shirt into the bag and the bag into his backpack. SYDNEY swings the backpack up onto one shoulder.)

ASHLEY: Ahem.

SYDNEY: Awwwwwww...

(SYDNEY pulls off the bracelet and puts it in ASHLEY's outstretched hand, not neglecting to brush the tips of his fingers against ASHLEY's leather-covered palm. Not noticing this, ASHLEY grins.)

ASHLEY: See you tomorrow, Syd.

SYDNEY: Indubitably! And thank you again for the lovely blouse!

(ASHLEY snorts. SYDNEY darts to the front door and opens it, then turns around and favors ASHLEY with the most elaborate bow in his repertoire, complete with flourishes. ASHLEY bursts out laughing.)

SYDNEY: Until we meet again, cher monsieur!

ASHLEY: Ha! Your French accent is atrocious, you know that?

SYDNEY: I'll have you know that everyone agrees that my frenching is heavenly!

ASHLEY: Oh, get out.

(SYDNEY grins at ASHLEY and darts out, closing the door behind him. ASHLEY crosses to the door and locks it, still grinning, then heads back to his own bedroom, snagging his backpack on the way. ASHLEY puts the bracelet back into the nightstand drawer and slings his backpack onto his desk, digging out his math textbook. He's just about to settle down to his homework when there's a knock on his bedroom window.)

ASHLEY: What the?

(ASHLEY pulls up the blinds, revealing SYDNEY standing at his window, arms crossed casually on the sill. SYDNEY grins. ASHLEY groans and yanks open the window.)

ASHLEY: Dammit, did you take the screen off my window?

SYDNEY: Yeah, I did. Have no fear, I'll put it back on. I just wanted to make sure that this was your bedroom window.

ASHLEY: Yeah, it is. Now you know. Did you want something, or can I go do my homework now?

(SYDNEY stares at ASHLEY, the grin fading.)

SYDNEY: ... yeah. Ash, I'm as serious as I know how to be.

ASHLEY: ... about what?

(ASHLEY and SYDNEY stare at each other for just a moment, ASHLEY uncomprehending, SYDNEY uncommonly serious. Then, in response, SYDNEY's hands flash up and pull ASHLEY's head down to his. The kiss is very swift but firm. Then SYDNEY lets go, opens his mouth as if to say something, and apparently decides against it. ASHLEY, stunned, watches SYDNEY race off at top speed around the corner. After a moment, we hear SYDNEY's motorcycle engine being gunned, and then a squeal of wheels as it tears out of the parking lot. After a few more frozen minutes, ASHLEY swipes the back of his hand over his lips, and closes the window and the blinds robotically. His eyes are wide and shocked.)

(SCENE: On one of the roads between ASHLEY's apartment and SYDNEY's house, about thirty seconds later. SYDNEY is driving his motorcycle at reckless speeds. Tears are streaming from his eyes and blowing away in the wind, and his lips are moving, almost soundlessly.)

SYDNEY: (under his breath) I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, I'm a fucking IDIOT... what happens now? What now?

(SCENE: ASHLEY's bedroom, about two minutes after SYDNEY left. ASHLEY is here, collapsed bonelessly into his desk chair, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He's rubbing his lips lightly with the knuckles of one hand, a slow thoughtful motion. He doesn't look angry, or disgusted, just tired and sad. After a moment he presses his hand up against his lips, hard, and slams his math book shut. He stands up, staggering just a bit, and throws himself onto the bed, tucking his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.)

ASHLEY: Well, fuck. What now?

(After a moment, ASHLEY reaches over and snaps out the bedside light, plunging his room into darkness. And then there is nothing but silence, and darkness -- and then we hear a faint scraping sound, like the drawer of ASHLEY's nightstand being opened.)

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