Crisco is for Sissies[M]

[TruthSayer]

Raa was nearly on his feet at the unexpected shout, eyes flying wide in surprise as he jerked back from Marcus’ mouth with a startled yelp. His eyes flew toward the intruder, mouth snapping shut as his jaw flexed when he saw who it was. Raa hadn’t formally met Mr. Davenport; he wasn’t sure how the man would feel about the situation he’d just caught them in, wasn’t certain that the man was alright with his son’s lifestyle, and couldn’t see through the flat expression on his face to figure it out.

When Marcus got up, Raa let him without protest, and rose to his own feet, hands fisted loosely at his sides as he watched Marcus get into the truck, offering a feeble little smile in return for his departing wave.

"I hope to see you early tomorrow. You uncle and I agreed to sit down and talk with the both of you before this meeting," Mr. Davenport said, leaving Raa with a feeling of horrible trepidation as he watched the truck drive off. He stood for a long while silent and staring unblinking at the corner where Marcus had disappeared around, then turned and walked toward the sports complex, hands stuffed into his pockets.

~*~


Raa had driven around until past midnight after he’d retrieved his jacket and backpack, homework going undone, supper going uneaten, before he finally pulled into the driveway of his home. When he’d walked inside, the house had been dark, a single LED nightlight burning beside the prepared coffee pot in the kitchen. No one was awake, Kendall’s dissonant snoring filtering down the hallway from the master bedroom, Aban‘s quieter snore underlying it. He made his way toward his room on the opposite end of the house, tossing his backpack and jacket onto the desk just inside the door without turning on the light, shucked his clothes into the hamper in the corner, and climbed into his unmade bed, pulling the covers up to his waist as he stared blankly at the dark ceiling above him, hands behind his head.

For a long while, he thought of nothing in particular, thoughts a sluggish mire in his mind that never really formed into anything coherent as the green glow of the alarm clock readout beside his bed slowly ticking its way toward 1am, eyes tracking the dancing white shadows of headlights through the closed blinds on his window whenever the rare late-night driver passed.

His lips felt astoundingly real on his face, like they were actually *there* instead of just an innocuous part of his body. The pads of his fingers where they had touched Marcus’ neck tingled, burning against his own neck where they rested against it.

Flashes of the fight, slow and amazing clear wandered through his mind‘s eye; of Marcus fighting like a wild animal that had been cornered, of Jason’s face slamming into the wall, of the way his own head must have snapped back when Chris hit him first, as though that justified the following beating…

A shadow in his doorway moved, drawing Raa’s attention to it, and he saw his uncle’s outline against the glow of the nightlight. For a long moment, they watched each other, no words passing between them. Raa’s chest throbbed, a pain that moved away from his chest to his limbs and gut, weighing him down with each beat of his heart. His eyes burned, and his next breath was a high pitched wheeze in his lungs, ending in an embarrassing hitch that sounded remarkably like a sob, and when he felt a warm hand on his forehead, blinking open eyes that he hadn’t realized had closed to see his uncle above him, the bed shifting as the man sat beside him, he felt hot tears flowing down his temples to pool in the shells of his ears.

It wasn‘t regret for the fight. He would jump in front of a freight train if that meant keeping Marcus from getting plowed under. It was all that had happened today, leaving him feeling weak and childish as he curled into his uncle, placing his head on his lap and crying into his stomach. It was remembering NYC and all that had transpired there. It was the crying jag in the parking lot and the relief of seeing Aban, though he shouldn’t have been back from his business trip for another two days. The anger and fear, the berserker throb of rage at seeing Marcus surrounded by three dip-shit pricks all intent on hurting someone who had never done anything to them. The words Marcus said in the parking lot, the feeling of their first kiss that threaded sweet and consuming through him, the fire that begun to burn extinguished by a rude shout.

“I-I-I’m g-going to g-get exp-pelled tomorr-row!” he cried, arms strangling his uncle’s waist.

Aban sighed, one hand pulling the covers up higher to hide Raa’s nude backside, the other gently petting his head.
“Then you must stop fighting,” Aban said.

“I’ve tried!” Raa shouted.

“…Do you want me to call Dr. Garcia?”

Raa shook his head vehemently.

“Raa,” Aban said, taking his nephew by the shoulders and sitting him up, forcing him to look him in the eye through the black shadows between them. “You here as this tells me you need help. There is no shame in-”

“No,” Raa said, voice firm, and pulled out of Aban’s grip, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he scrubbed his face furiously. “I’m just… fucked up right now,” he muttered, words muffled by his hands. “I need some sleep.”

Aban sat watching him for a long moment, unconvinced, but stood anyway, leaning down to kiss his nephew on the head. “Then sleep. We leave for school tomorrow early.” He walked out the door, thoughts lost on the boy in his care, trying so hard to be a man, yet still so much a child.

[Tammika]

The ride home was dead silent. Marcus stared through the windshield wishing his dad would say something... anything, but he stayed quiet, driving the fifteen minutes to their house with his mouth tight. On occasion it looked as if he may have wanted to say something but he always stopped. The muscles in his jaw bulged with unsaid thoughts.

Marcus' jacket reeked, but he had changed his mind about burning it. It now smelled like Raa, especially where the sleeves were pressed to his chest as he gripped his shirt. He squirmed at the memory, pressing the toe of his shoes against a ridge in the truck mat. His thoughts were odd and jumbled from the kiss. On one hand he dreaded the conversation that would be coming and all the events of this first hectic week of school, but on the other hand he couldn't get over the rush that from Raa's lips pressed against his. Even now just the thought was making him sigh. He rested his elbow on the door handle and his chin in his hand, sleeves pulled halfway over his hand so the smell filled his nose. This was by far the dorkiest thing he had ever done, obsessing over a guys sweaty smell , but it had never smelled this good before.

He snapped out of his daydream when his dad shut the truck off. Somehow they had arrived at home without him realizing it once his brain floated away thinking of Raa. He looked up at the house and saw both his mom and sister standing in the doorway. Both of them looked like they had been crying. Crap. When neither of them made a move to get out his mother pulled Sam away from the front door and partially shut it.

"Two questions son. Lie to me and you can say goodbye to the mustang and your phone and freedom as you know it now. What the hell happened and why? You have never been in a fight and now all the sudden I'm getting called to come pick you up?"

"Dad I-"

"You what son? If there is something you need to tell me I need to know... now."

In exasperation Marcus lifted his hands above his head and gripped the seat causing him growl in pain and jerk them back down. "I'm fine dad I'm.. I'm..." His voice cracked and he put the back of his hand against his mouth as he started to cry. His lip was swollen and painful but he didn't care. With his voice partially muffled he choked out his words. "I'm scared dad. I'm tired. I'm fucking confused! Sorry but I..just keep ... I didn't do anything! Honest to God I didn't dad, they just won't quit!"

"Won't quit what Marcus? Who!?" More worry than anger laced his words as he reached over and pulled his hand from his face.

"All of them! Everyone of them! I'm tired of people looking at me like I'm less than human or something! Tired of people jumping me because I'm gay! Tired of being called a thing 'cause I look like a freakin' girl!" Both of his fists slammed hard into the dash as the details of his first few days of school came pouring out. Somewhere during it all his dad had come around to his side of the truck and helped him out. Before he realized it he was bawling like a baby in his dads arms in their driveway.

"I'm sorry dad. I'm sorry."

Marcus senior wrapped his arms tight around his son. "No son. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. If anything, I think I've let you down for things to get this far and you not feel you're able to talk about it. I'm sorry you had to go through this.." He started to say alone but the amount of pain behind that word tightened his chest to the point he was about to choke up. Loudly he cleared is throat. "Go on in the house and talk to your mother before her and your sister have a heart attack." He let go and put an arm around his shoulder looking closely at his face. "Your face is going to be about six different colors in the morning. Your sure you don't want to get stitches? That one on your chin is gonna leave a scar."

"Nah. I'll be fine." He hesitated. "Why do we have to go early and talk to Raa's uncle?"

"To tell you the truth, I think that Greg kid is gonna cause problems and we all want to make sure we have the whole story straight. I know for sure now, with what you've told me that we have grounds to press charges against Greg and if there is any sign of them trying to expel you or kick you off the swim team I'll sue the whole damn department of education for all the shit you've been through."

The front door moved and Sam's head peeked out at him. He waved and she smiled and waved back. "Go on in the house like I said. I need to call your uncle." Marcus' uncle was a sheriffs deputy for the next county over. Consulting him was one of the first things on his dad's mind when they called him about the fight.

As Marcus walked to the house his dad called out to him. "Plus, I want to know more about the punk lip locking my son in the middle of the damn parking lot."

Marcus didn't even bother turning around, but when he got in the house his sister commented. "Why's your face so red, Marky? Does it still hurt?"

~~~

First bell was at seven-thirty, but at six thirty Both Marcus and his dad were waiting at the coffee shop across the street from the school. Marcus was more sore than he was after a two hour swim meet. Lifting his arms for very long was tiring so he went without his normal style even though his sister offered to do it for him. "No way you imp now get out of my bathroom!" His long hair partially covered his face and since he didn't style it, a routine that called for lots of products and a flat iron, his natural wavy pattern made him look even more like a girl than usual, but he didn't care one bit. he was draped on the table with his head resting on his folded arms slowly going back to sleep. His dad drank coffee and read some article on his phone.

"Sit up, Marcus."

"It hurts."

"It'll hurt worse if I elbow you, now sit up."

Marcus rose from his slouch, hair completely in his face. He looked out the large glass windows scanning the parking lot for Raa and his uncle. The timing was perfect. He didn't recognize the vehicle but he did recognize Raa. He smiled and promptly winced. His dad had been right. His face was three different shades of purple and blue and his right eye was black. A stark contrast on his pale skin. At least his lip wasn't as swollen but the cut made most expressions painful.

[TruthSayer]

Raa felt like sleep hadn’t come the night before, though he was sure from the blank spot in his memory that it must have. He felt gritty, and the shower that morning hadn’t help to alleviate the feeling. That morning had carried with it the same sort of silence one normally found in a tomb, Kendall staring down into his cup of strong black coffee, Aban cutting a breakfast banana into squares, both dressed by the time Raa’s alarm clock went off. When Raa exited the shower, Kendall was gone, and Aban was sitting at the kitchen island, staring at the keys in his hand. The short drive to the Kiva Kup across from the high school was spent in separate vehicles, Raa following Aban since the man knew where they were going, and Raa didn’t, and parked on the side of the building where he usually did while Aban took a space up front.

When they exited their vehicles, it was with the same silence, Raa stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he waited by his uncle‘s SUV, one foot kicked up on the driver‘s side front wheel, head down in a mulish posture.

When Aban got out, adjusting his tie and slipping his dress jacket over his crisp white shirt, they made their way inside, Raa watching the cracked black asphalt as he walked with a slow reluctant pace into the coffee shop, Aban right behind him.

“This way, Raa,” Aban said, touching his shoulder to steer him toward the table. Raa felt his feet dig into the pale white linoleum of the floor for a split second before he walked the few paces in the closet-sized café and kicked one of the chairs away from the table with a nudge of his toe, slumping down into it, hands still firmly in his pockets, shoulders forward defensively. When the waitress came, he just nodded when she asked if he wanted his usual, and cast sidelong glances at Marcus’ father, the looks safely hidden behind the long fringe of his bangs.

He didn’t want to meet Marcus’ father. He’d hated meeting Taylor’s family, especially since her father was as fake as a person could be and her mother was a closet alcoholic shopping addict who had taught her daughter to appreciate nothing if it wasn’t pink or baby blue and Ralph Lauren. He’d hated the family get-togethers he’d been forced to endure, lead around on Taylor’s arm, smiling a clown’s painted on grin while keeping his mouth shut as she talked.

And her family had *liked* him. All Marcus’ father knew of him was that he had been in a fight, and had kissed his son in the parking lot afterward. Not exactly instant fame where Raa was concerned. How much did what Marcus’ father say to him matter? What if this was when Mr. Davenport gave the ‘stay away from my son’ speech? Raa couldn’t look at Marcus, afraid he would see rejection there.

Instead, he tucked his shoulders and stared at the white cardboard cup of creamy coffee placed before him, mouth locked against words that stuck in his throat.

“Marcus, I am Aban-Badi Al Mawalhad,” Aban said, a friendly smile on his face after nodding a welcome to Mr. Davenport; he twisted the cap off of his Avian water bottle and set it down on the table top directly to his left. “You may call me ‘Aban’. I am Raa’s uncle. Raa, give your greeting to Mr. Davenport.”

Raa flushed, ducking his head down as he uttered a silent curse, feeling more like a reprimanded child than he had in a long time. He took a deep breath, sat up straight in his chair, and stuck his hand across the table. “Mr. Davenport,” he said, voice stronger than he thought it would be, as though his words were an unconscious gauntlet thrown between them, “I’m Raa Hakesh.”

[Tammika]

"Hi." Was about all Marcus could squeak out, before he put his head back down, hiding behind a wall of hair.

"Pleasure to meet you Raa, but please Marc is fine, if it isn't too confusing. Marcus hates telling people his full name is Marcus Philip Davenport the third." He shook the offered hand feeling a little sorry for Raa. It was obvious he had no desire to be there.

"Daaad. That was so unnecessary." Marcus was leaning forward on the table hands clasped nervously around a napkin that he had wadded into the tiniest little ball. With all the wavy hair hanging down covering most of the bruises he didn't feel as embarrassed. He wore all black today, hooded jacket, t-shirt and jeans and thick soled boots. He wished he had them on the day before, thoughts of stomping on Greg's head made him feel a little better.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet, I'm sure you've had just as long a night as we've had..." Marcus looked from Raa to the napkin he was now shredding to pieces, trying to catch his eye, as his dad rambled on about possible suspension and his firm belief that both Raa and Marcus should not be in serious trouble. He began to squirm uncomfortably when the topic brushed the surface of some of the abuse he had to deal with from others... and Greg. He visibly shrunk down in his seat. Without missing a beat his dad reached over and laid his arm on the back of Marcus' chair, squeezing Marcus' good shoulder as if to silently calm him.

"... I hate that this abuse has gone this far, i mean... Marcus made a choice not to back down from who he is last year and as his father I support him. He tells me Raa here has been a... good friend and very helpful to him." Turning directly to Raa with an appreciative and gauging glance, he added. "I really appreciate that."

[TruthSayer]

Raa blinked, dark eyes widening slightly at the thanks Mr. Davenport had offered him, casting a quick glance at Marcus, hoping to catch his eye, perhaps better gauge the situation. Raa did not think the elder Davenport was lying in his appreciation, but it was the first time someone had actually thanked him for getting into a fight, despite how roundabout that thanks might have been. For a moment, he sat quiet, slowly digesting his thoughts and the uncomfortable nervousness worming its way through his stomach, then shrugged one shoulder, slouching down in his chair to a comfortable posture that left his rear nearly falling off the seat. The automatic widening of his legs to support the slouch brought his knee into contact with Marcus’ beneath the table. For the flash of a moment, he thought about moving it, but left it there; he felt better talking to Mr. Davenport and Aban about this with solid knowledge that Marcus was there beside him, and he still didn‘t feel comfortable reaching out to take his hand.

“Marcus is easy to be nice to,” he said, finally taking a sip of his coffee; it had cooled considerably while they sat, turning luke warm and bitter as the sugar settled at the bottom. He stirred it lightly with the red stir stick that came with it, tried it again, and licked his lips appreciatively.

Aban rolled the base of his water bottle in slow obtuse circles on the table top, lips pressed together in a tight line as he thought heavily about his next words. When he spoke, it was slow and labored, each word carefully enunciated to ensure that he was understood through his accent. “I… worry… of the verdict of the meeting today with Mrs. Ramsey. I speak to my lawyer last night, and he say that there is small that can be done but a charge of assault and expel from school. But charge of assault can have jail time, too.”

Raa felt his stomach lurch, a dark expression passing over his features before he managed to quell it with a carefully blank look; he knew the chances of expulsion were good, especially for him and his record, but jail? Visions of past experiences flashed before his eyes, and for an irrational moment, he either wanted to bolt or vomit, he wasn’t certain which.

Aban reached a hand beneath the table and squeezed his knee, though his eyes fluttered to Marcus, a comforting smile on his face. “I do not believe this will happen to you. Marcus, I wish as well to thank you for being what kind friend you are to my honored nephew. Raa has brought concern to me in his past, but when he speaks to me of you, my concerns are no more. There is difference there that was not with past friends. I have not seen him willing to fight for another before.” Aban gave a small honorific bow of his head, soulful eyes kind.

[Tammika]

Marcus had only briefly met Aban before but now sitting across from him he could really see the similarities between him and Raa. Though they only favored in looks with their rich skin tone but Marcus noted something else that made him blush and squirm. The soothing sound of his voice was very similar. He pulled his hood up over his head and almost as if on cue his dad pulled it back off, not missing a beat in what he was saying to Aban. His hair brushed back with it and he quickly leaned his head down so it would cover the large bruises on the right side of his face.

Marc cleared his throat. "I don't think it will be as bad as that for either of them." He paused wondering how much was too much to repeat without making Marcus shrink away from him any further than he already had. "Whatever the outcome... charges will be pressed on Marky's behalf against that Greg. I'm in shock at the amount of bullying my son has had to deal with in that cesspool they call a learning institution. This fight wasn't the first time he's had to deal with ...harassment from him and with three on one, I don't see how it could be anything other than defense for both Raa and Marky."

Marcus cringed every time his dad referred to him as Marky. It never bothered him before but he suddenly felt very childish in front of Raa. He caught Raa's eyes once and gave him a faint smile and shrugged his shoulders.

Marcus was swaying his knees in and out as he slumped in the chair and froze when he felt Raa's leg on his. Instantly he slid both of his on either side and crossed his feet at the ankles with Raa's leg snugly between. It made him feel anchored to the ground and safe, even if was probably dorky to some.

[TruthSayer]

Raa blinked, the conversation around him and the sick he felt fading away into curious shock. He glanced at Marcus from beneath the fall of his bangs, a strange little smile on his face when he took in Marcus’ expression. The feeling of Marcus’ legs trapping his own sent a tendril warmth through him from the point of contact.

If I do go back to jail, he thought, lifting his head up to look at Marcus straight on, would you wait for me? He took his other leg and crossed his own ankles, the movement creating a strange parody of holding hands, both their ankles locked together, his knee pressed firmly between Marcus’, Marcus’ held loosely between his own. It made Raa’s lips twitch in a smile.

“I know what that look means!” a booming voice from the café’s doorway hailed. Raa jumped, nearly jerking his legs away from Marcus’ as Kendall walked in. The man was dressed in a pale gray suit though he wore no tie and top two buttons on his shirt remained undone. The keys to his Civic jangled loudly in his hands as he tossed them up into the air and caught them a few times before stuffing them into his pants pocket. He grinned widely, naturally playful brown eyes sparkling as he made his way over to their table, grabbing a chair from another and plunking down into it beside Aban, who smiled welcomingly at him.

“I definitely know what that look means, young man,” Kendall said again, wagging a finger at Raa from across Aban’s lap. “And I stand by what I said when you were fourteen. No sex before you’re thirty, and I mean it.”

Raa choked on his own tongue, jerking upright so fast that he yanked his knees away from Marcus, although one ankle still remained trapped between Marcus’ legs. “We are not having sex!”

“Um-hum. Neither am I. Good one,” Kendall said, nodding sagely as he held out one hand to Mr. Davenport, his other arm draping itself over the back of Aban’s chair in a familiar gesture, though Aban did not lean back into it, and Kendall made no move to actually touch him. Ignoring Raa‘s bellowed ‘SHUDDUP!, he said with a grin to Mr. Davenport, “Kendall Grant. Call me Kendall, Raa‘s honorary uncle and certified torturer.”

[Tammika]

In the middle of all this Marcus could only think of how absolutely gorgeous Raa looked and he stared back at him, though not quite as bold as Raa. He gazed at him like a love struck fan girl through his thick lashes. Love struck... Yeah he was in love and he was wondering how long it would take him to build up the courage to actually say it to him one day just as Kendall burst into the shop.

It was a good thing Marcus wasn't drinking or eating anything because he nearly fell out of his chair and choked at the sex comment, more so because of the image it put in his head than embarrassment over whether or not it was happening. His dad's eyebrows shot up as he looked from Raa to Marcus then back at Kendall to try an register the meaning behind the comment.

"Oh god!" Marcus face had never felt more hot in his life and he put his head down on the table, drawing the hood over his head. "Just kill me now. Seriously just... And don't even look at me like that dad just don't even... oh god..." Most of his voice was muttered into the table and his arms.

Marc shook Kendall's hand finally seeing the gleam in his eye. He knew it was teasing but still the idea of his son and Raa... He had just come to terms with him being gay and either way as far as he was concerned thirty was still too young for his Marky. "Torturer.. I can see that. Nice to meet you." He shook the offered hand.

[TruthSayer]

“No,” Raa snarled, jerking Kendall’s hand away from Mr. Davenport’s. “It’s not ‘nice to meet you’, it’s ‘nice to see you leave’, now go away!”

Kendall affected a hurt expression and grabbed at his chest. “I am wounded! Here I am, taking time out of my busy schedule to wish you and Hoodie over there good luck, and to say that worry is not needed, but what thanks do I get? It’s because you’re jealous of my manly beauty, isn’t it?!”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP!”

“Kendall,” Aban said, voice wavering as he tried to keep the politeness in his tone, “You speak too wrong in front of our guests.”

“Guests? Aban, this is a coffee shop, not our living room,” Kendall said, though he did sit back in his chair and adopt a more professional air.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Raa snapped, leaning forward to see Kendall past his uncle, the glare in his eyes pleading.

“I should be, yes,” Kendall said, rubbing the light salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin, “But I wanted to tell you quite honestly that I am in your corner, both of you, and if you get expelled or otherwise I’ll fight it every step of the way. Also,” Kendall’s eyes shifted from Raa to Marcus, “I wanted to meet Hoodie, the young man who has so effortlessly inspired my dear Raa to fight so gallantly for his honor and safety, although all I have seen of him is the top of his head.” He reached across the table and poked the top of Marcus’ head. “Hello, Hoodie.”

[Tammika]

Marcus lifted his head just enough for blue eyes to lock on Kendall. "Hi." He wiggled his fingers at him. "Don't mind me. I just died. So just.. carry on." He put his head back down and squeezed Raa's leg with his own.

"Right. Well it's high time we headed off for the school." Marc stood patting Marcus on the back. "Come on son. Let's go."
Marcus had to grip the chair in order to get up without groaning too much. In front of Raa he had a feeling he should hide some of the pain, but it was nearly impossible. He didn't want him to worry about him too much. Again his dad pulled the hood off his head. This time he let it be and even pushed his hair back from his face. He suddenly decided that every one at school was going to see exactly what Greg and the rest did to him. Everyone. He shivered a bit at some details that were about to come out.

"You okay Marky?"

"Yeah... fine dad."

~~~~~~

"One word out of you without me telling you to speak and I'll knock you through a wall got it?"

"Yes grandma."

"Now sit up straight."

"Yes, grandma."

"All yes grandma now. Where was all that common sense when you were traipsing about fighting like a wild animal? Hmm?"

Greg sat in a chair in the conference room, beside his grandmother. An austere woman with a sharp eye and an even sharper tongue. She sat stiffly in her chair obviously livid at the reason for being there.

Marcus and his dad filed in and sat on the opposite side of the room. Marcus saw Greg and instantly looked away, his stomach lurched. He flopped into the chair as his knee started to give. When all parties were in the room Everyone turned to the principal to start the meeting.

[TruthSayer]

Aban nudged Kendall in the side surreptitiously yet none too gently with his elbow when Marcus referred to himself as dead, realizing that whatever his partner would have said to the boy's comment, it would not have been something that should have been said in front of strangers; Raa looked to be expecting something, too, for he was already half out of his chair, fist raised threateningly, though Aban was secure in the knowledge that Raa would not strike either of them in anger.

True to Aban's prediction, Kendall snapped his mouth shut, biting his bottom lip to stifle a hybrid grunt-laugh, and stood. “Ah, I must make my departure, as well. Farewell, gentlemen, and no worries!”

Raa watched him go cautiously, still on guard, and puffed out a breath of relief when the door slammed shut behind Kendall. He stood, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, and turned to offer apologies to the table at large, but words died in his throat at the sight of Marcus’ face. It was the first time he’d been able to see it without the shadow of long bangs or a hood in the way, and what he saw was enough to make him simmer in anger all over again.

Aban’s hand ghosted over his back between his shoulder blades, an unspoken reminder that jumpstarted Raa toward the door and across the street to the school.

~*~


Mrs. Janelle Ramsey was a diminutive woman of 5’2” when she wore her heels, and 4’9” when she didn’t. She preferred the striking black business suit with white pinstripes overall when at work, and to wear her long brown hair in a half tail style that left a great deal of its mass to lay loose and wavy over her back. She wore glasses for reading only, though she believed the made her look more severe with the student body that most often towered over her, and so left them on at all times, forcing her to appear as though she looked down her aquiline nose at people, though that was rarely her intention.

Today, she stood in the conference room, watching the four students and their parents or guardians filter into to take their places around the wide oval table, wearing the most severe expression she could manage. Manicured nails painted a faint pink to match her lipstick tapped in a slow staccato against the varnished top of the table as she stood at its head, black projector remote at her right hand, white projector screen pulled down and ready for use behind her.

Her eyes narrowed at the damage done to Marcus’ face, more so than they had when she’d seen Greg, Jason, and Christopher, chest clenching in heartfelt sadness that something like this would happen to one of her students, and a thrill of anger toward those who were responsible. She did not miss the skeletal grin Raakaa Hakesh shot toward the three sitting on various stages of confidence and cowardice on the opposite side of the table from where Marcus and Raa and their parents sat, nor the glare that Christopher’s bully father sent toward him, but chose to ignore it for the moment.

“Settle, please,” she said, lilting voice flat. Sharp blue eyes swept the room. “We all know why we are here today, but to ensure that there are no misconceptions on anyone’s behalf,” her eyes shot toward Christopher’s father again over the rim of her gold glasses, “I will reiterate. There was a fight here last night in the hallway of the Sports Complex between the gentlemen sitting before me. I would like to hear the cause for the fight from each young man without interruption from others. We will begin with Greg, then Jason, Christopher, Raa, and Marcus. Please begin.”

[Tammika]

"We haven't got all day boy speak up. And utter one foul word... just don't try me." She folded her hands on the table in front of her and looked straight ahead at the paintings on the wall.

Greg cleared his throat. "Um.."

"Don't um Gregory!"

"Yes, grandma. Me and um.." His eyes darted to his granmother and she just shook her head. "Me and Chris and Jason were just talking with Marcus after practice you know and-"

Marcus snorted and mumbled under his breath. Greg cleared his throat and started again. "We kinda got in an argument and Marcus was getting all worked up about it. He said he didn't like the set up for the first meet and was pushing up on me. We kinda just got into it after that. We could have let it be but I just didn't like the names he was calling me and so I kinda got mad and we chased him down."

"Oh you fucking liar!" Greg's grandmother flinched at the foul word. He felt bad but was to upset over the bold face lie to worry about offending the punk's grandmother.

"Marcus! Shut your mouth!"

"But dad-"

"Not another word. You will have your say." Marc knew what Greg said was lies and it took all of him not to jump up like Marcus had.

[TruthSayer]

Raa didn’t know exactly what had happened to cause the fight, but he was certain Greg’s tall tale wasn’t it, even without Marcus’ shout. Despite the distracting flutter of instant amusement at the way Greg cowered away from the little old lady at his side, Raa felt his body tense with anger, his twined fingers on the table turning white as he gripped them, shoulders shaking slightly with the effort of not jumping over the table; Aban’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing stopping him from it.

“Goddamn right he’s a fucking liar,” Raa bit out, dark eyes positively glowing with the promise of retribution.

“Raa, please see your words,” Aban said, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

“Yes, Mr. Hakesh,” Mrs. Ramsey said, adjusting her glasses on her nose, “Please remember that this is a professional environment in a professional institution of learning. Also, I will ask again that all comments be held, thank you Mr. Davenport.” She nodded to the elder Davenport. Face carefully severe to reflect the seriousness of the situation, she said, “Jason, please give us your side of the story.”

“It’s as Greg said, ma’am,” Jason said, the lie rolling off his tongue with far more confidence than his friend’s had. At his right, his mother’s overbearingly worshipful gaze searched her son’s profile, a pudgy red hand gripping his forearm in complete trust in his words. “The three of us were in the locker room, and Davenport comes in when everybody else has left, and starts banging around and complaining about the swim meet schedule. He was saying some pretty bad things about Coach, but we told him that Coach new what he was doing and to let it go.

“He got in Greg’s face after that, and me and Chris tried to get him to back off. When we did, he just went wild. We ran from him because we didn’t want to get into trouble, but he cornered us in that hallway. Then Hakesh comes in and just starts wailing away on us without giving us a chance to say or do anything and then Coach and a couple of other teachers showed up and broke up the fight.

“Honest, ma’am, that’s how it went down. We wouldn’t do anything to Marc; we all respect him too much.”

Jason’s mother nodded, wet brown eyes glistening, and looked at the principal as though wondering why the woman hadn’t believed every word Jason had said and let that be that.

Mrs. Ramsey paused for a long moment, expression unchanging, then turned her eyes to Chris. “Christopher?”

“Yeah, son, tell ‘em how it went down,” Chris’ father boomed, crossing his arms over his barrel chest in pride; the mean gleam in his eye when he looked at Marcus across the table easily matched the one normally in his son’s eyes, though now Chris looked far from confident.

“Eh-”

“Speak up, boy!” Chris’ father said, smacking the back of his son’s chair, “I didn’t raise no sissy little bitch that can’t speak up for himself!”

“Mr. Lopez! One more outburst like that and I will remove both you and your son from this meeting!” Mrs. Ramsey snapped, face turning red beneath the thin layer of her foundation. “Sit down!”

Mr. Lopez sneered, visibly repulsed at a woman giving him orders, but left the back of his son’s chair to sit in the one beside him, though his looming presence lost none of its threat.

“Chris, please continue,” Mrs, Ramsey said, voice shaking just slightly as her eyes snapped back to the boy in question over the top of her glasses.

“It’s just like Jason said, ma’am,” Chris said, words delivered with a shaky strength. “We weren’t doing anything. It was Marcus who started it all, then Raa jumped in and it all got ugly.”

Mrs. Ramsey nodded, then turned her eyes to Raa, who was visibly vibrating with fury, dark brown eyes seeming to shimmer with it as his gaze stayed locked onto Chris.

“I don’t know what started it,” Raa said, voice thick and strangled in his throat as he spoke through clenched teeth, a twitch beginning high up in his jaw, “All I know is that when I went into the Sports Complex to wait for Marc, I heard fighting. I know some other people in the school had said some pretty nasty crap about Marc, so I went to make sure the fight didn’t include him.

“When I rounded the corner, I saw that the three of them had Marc pinned up against the wall and were wailing on him, so I jumped in, and I swear to God that if they do it again-”

“Thank you, Mr. Hakesh, that is all the information needed,” Mrs. Ramsey cut in. “Marcus? If you would please tell us what happened?”

Aban’s restraining squeeze on his nephew’s shoulder did not let up this time, and his other hand came up to drape across Raa’s forearm closest to him, worry darkening his gaze as he looked upon him. He would not doubt that if Raa was pushed far enough in this, the boy would be across the table in an instant.

[Tammika]

Marcus took several deep breaths before he finally stood up at the urging of his dad' s comforting squeeze on the back of his neck.
"First I have never said a bad word about the coach.. ever." He narrowed his eyes at Jason. "I was changing after swim practice. The lower class has the job of cleaning the poolside but I was dragging on purpose to avoid Greg. He freaks me out and you can ask anyone on the team about that. I don't lie like some dipsh-"

"Marcus..." his dad called his name in warning.

"Anyway.. I had just changed when Greg comes in and gets in my face with Bert and Ernie on either side. It didn't take a genius to know I was about to get my as-.. about to get jumped, so yeah I did throw the first punch, but not until after Greg was talking a bunch of weird sh-" Marcus rolled his eyes to the ceiling and ran his hands through his hair. "A bunch of junk, like he always ...does to me. Stuff about 'my kind' and me being a 'sicko' because ... I'm gay." By the time he spoke the last line his voice was not as loud. He licked his lips nervously and shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's not the first time he's done .. somethin' creepy so I... I just didn't want that to... yeah that's it."

"Marcus."

"Marcus what dad! I can't! Do you know how friggin embarrassing this is?!" His voice cracked and he shut his mouth to keep from crying. There was no way he'd cry in front of this crowd.

[TruthSayer]

For the first time, Janelle allowed a smile to lighten her features, an insignificant encouragement and wordless thanks as she said with gentle voice, “That’s alright, Marcus, you may sit down. I believe that is all we need to know, thank you. Now, I must ask Mr. Hakesh and Mr. Al Mawalhad to please leave the room for a moment while I discuss something with the rest of those present. Please have a seat outside until I call for you.”

She watched as Aban stood, gently urging his nephew up with a hand under his elbow and a whisper in his ear. Raa’s posture was stiff, a stubborn glint in his eye as he sat rock still for a moment, but stood with a jerky movement, burning eyes finally leaving Chris, who visibly sagged with relief. Others looked on with confusion and resentment for Raa’s apparent luck, but out of all among them, as far as she knew, she was the only one who knew of Raa’s phobia of being caught on film. When he had enrolled and Aban had asked for private conference with her, Aban had explained that while he saw the need for the cameras hidden in various places within out without the school, that Raa not become of aware of it.

”My nephew has fear,” Aban explained, holding the pamphlet that explained the presence of the cameras loosely in his hand, “And I think that he would not come if he know.”

Once the door was firmly closed behind them, Janelle picked up the seemingly forgotten remote and walked slowly to the back of the room, saying, “As some of you seem to have forgotten, there are several video cameras located all over and around this campus in all areas except for restrooms, locker rooms, and showers.” She flicked off the lights with one finely manicured nail, listening with glee to the quickening breathing in the room, knowing even without the benefit of clear sight exactly who had grown so nervous. “I have two very interesting films to show you, if you would please focus your attention on the screen at the front of the room.” She pointed the remote at the projector unit hanging out of the ceiling, and clicked play.

[Tammika]

Both relief at the truth being out and fear gripped Marcus as he realized what was on the first tape just from the angle of the camera. The fight was no where near the short hallway between the pool and the gym on the east side of the building. With a hand over his mouth he looked on with dread.

There was no sound but Marcus remembered every word. Every sick word Greg whispered to him in that hallway about how he was a fucked up fag that wanted the swim team to fuck him. How he strutted around like a little slut begging for it. It reminded him of Eric...

It was his second encounter with Greg and he had just finished swimming. His jacket was draped over his shoulders, hair was soaked because he had swam without a cap that day and his bag was in his hand. The only other thing he wore was his trunks.

The film was only about three minutes long but it was obvious it wasn't friendly chatting between the two as it showed Greg push Marcus face first into the wall and his hand obviously moving to reach around and into Marcus' speedo. Marcus flinches and bring his hands up to push away but Greg has his arm twisted behind him. Greg brings his hands around the back and part of Marcus cheek is almost visible as Greg jerks his arm trying to keep Marcus still. It is obvious again where his hand is by the way Marcus begins to thrash. It all stops just as suddenly as it started as a coach comes around the corner totally clueless as to what was happening.

"What the hell...!" Marc was livid. His son had told him what happen but seeing it made him ready to pound Greg himself. He would have done more if his own son wasn't right there staring wide eyed at the screen. Hand still covering his mouth tears running down his face.

The second tape was much shorter and only showed Marcus trying the locked gym door and then running down the hall. It cut quickly to a scene of Greg jumping on Marcus' back knocking him to the ground and Jason and Chris taking turns kicking him in the ribs and shoulder. Once he was caught in the side of the head.

"Oh yeah. That looks like Marcus went crazy on you three. Oh I believe it." Mr. Davenport stood and pointed at Greg. You will pay for laying your hands on my son. You will paying for your lies. You are the freak sicko." He just stopped after that afraid of the words that really wanted to come out of his mouth.

[TruthSayer]

Janelle clicked the off button, plunging the room into gloomy darkness for a moment before she reached over and turned on the light. She placed the remote on the table, then opened the door and asked for Raa and Aban to join them.

She felt… weak. Disgusted. Sick. That something like this had gone on in her school, to one of her students… She hadn't wanted to watch it again, had wanted so badly to close her eyes against it, but forced herself to see, to *know*, and to learn from her own mistakes.

“In light of the evidence that has come to light,” she said, standing now at the head of the table, back to the projection screen as she looked out at the table at large, ignoring Raa’s confused frown and Aban’s knowing silence, “Gregory Jennings is expelled-” she raised her voice over the outraged squawk the boy gave, “for sexual harassment, sexual assault, and violence toward another student. Both Christopher and Jason will receive three weeks out of school suspension.”

Mr. Lopez rose from his chair so fast it toppled over backward with a crash, outrage turning his face an ugly shade of purple. Large hands fisted at his side, the curses he spewed sending spittle out over the table and his son’s head. Janelle looked at him with a dispassionate expression, though her own eyes spit fire. She touched a button beneath the table, and three of the school’s largest security guards entered the room, a looming threat behind Mr. Lopez that eventually drove him from the room, a shocked Christopher following behind meekly in his wake.

Mrs. Jeremiah was unhealthily pale, hands shaking as her wide eyes darted to her son as if looking for some clue as to what she was supposed to do next. Jason rose from his chair silently, though the glare he sent at Marcus said it all. He walked stiffly around the table and out of the room without a backward glance.

[Tammika]

Marcus couldn't look at anyone. Not even when Raa came into the room. He so badly wanted to curl up next to his dad and cry but he held it in. He was deathly pale but he managed to do nothing but let tears flow down his face. His dad vigorously rubbed his back to both comfort Marcus and calm himself.

He expelled a shaky sigh of relief that part of this whole thing was almost over. He didn't feel bad for Greg at all as the principal announced his expulsion. "No way! I'm not getting kicked out over that-"

"Over that what? Huh Greg what?" Marc gave Greg a look that would kill.

"Greg's grandmother whacked him in the arm. "Gregory Jennings get to the car and not another word. You know what I said would happen if you got expelled. March." Her words had bite but she was thoroughly ashamed and disturbed by her grandsons behavior. On her way out she apologized to both Marcus his dad and Raa and his uncle.

[TruthSayer]

Janelle watched in silence as the door closed behind Greg and his grandmother, taking a moment to breathe deeply and center herself. As much as she wanted to collapse in a chair, as much as she wanted to allow Marcus, if not Raa, off with just a warning, she knew she would be able to do that.

Her eyes flew to Raa, who shifted uncomfortably. “Do you want to go back to jail?”

Color drained from Raa’s face and his mouth fell open, working soundlessly.

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail?” Janelle reiterated, glare piercing as she set the palms of her hands on the table and leaned on them, giving the impression of a looming menace. “Because that’s where you’re going, Raakaa Hakesh.” The boy gave an immediate flinch at the sound of his full first name, which Janelle ignored. “Two fights already this year, and it’s not even the end of the first week- Yes, I know about Devon Zachary. No, he did not ‘rat you out’. Twenty-seven off-campus fights last year, and I don’t even know about what you get up to during the summer.

“And I also know, from the look of both Devon’s and Jason’s faces, that you go for the nose. Do you have any idea how easy it is to kill someone that way? Because I know, Raa.

“So it’s either going to jail for murder or aggravated assault, and that means doing some real time, I’m talking possibly more than twenty-five years, because you’re not a minor anymore, Raa, and with your record, you will get the maximum sentence, or you get some help to deal with these anger issues of yours.

“You have less than one full school year left before graduation. Do not make me expel you.”

Raa looked as though he was going to pass out, his wide eyes a little wild as they stared at her, shoulders adopting a fine tremor that worked its way down into the hands folded before him on the table.

Beside him, his uncle was silent, eyes closed with one hand continuously rubbing his brow. She did not think it was because he disagreed with that she said; she’d dealt with Muslim men before, and they did not take lightly to women in authority. Perhaps it was fear for his nephew. Raa had a rather impressive history of expulsion from schools, though he had had no such problems since moving to Plano eight years ago. Janelle was not sure what had made the change, but whatever it was, she was thankful for it.

“You will have one week of in-school suspension starting today, because I honestly don’t think your grades can handle five days worth of zeros.

“As for you, Marcus…” This time, Janelle did sit down, moving to right the chair Mr. Lopez had knocked over before sinking into it with as much grace and poise as she could manage. She removed her reading glasses, pinching her nose roughly to dispel the headache that had been slowly forming all morning. “I cannot apologize enough for what has happened to you. I can assure you that if I or any of my staff knew, we would have put a stop to it immediately. I… sincerely hope you and your family can find it in your hearts to forgive our grievous oversight.

“This does not mean that I can let you go without some form of punishment, however, as you did fight on school grounds.” She lowered her hand from her face, looking squarely into Marcus’ eyes. “Two days out-of-school suspension, starting today. You may pick up your school work at the end of today to be handed in at the end of suspension Monday.

“Are there any questions, gentlemen?”

~*~

Raa sat very still, a million thoughts flying through his head. The first of which was what Mr. Davenport and Marcus were thinking, though he dare not look at them.

He stood without saying a word and walked out of the conference room, Aban following behind, and bolted, running to his car, jamming the key into the lock so hard he nearly snapped it. He had the engine roaring by the time Aban got to the doors of the school, and was out of the nearly full parking lot before Aban’s shout faded from the air.

OOC: Neither Tammika nor myself live anywhere near Plano, Texas. All information we have on it we’ve looked up on the internet, so those of you who are the fine residents of this fine city, please allow us some liberties with facts. Also, the school that Raa and Marcus attend is fictional!

[Tammika]

Marcus flinched when the principal spoke. The woman barked out the phrase at Raa and made him want to say something, object somehow. The words 'back to jail' echoed in his head and he looked over at Raa trembling like a deer in headlights.

Marc glanced from both his son to Raa realizing that Marcus had no idea about his jail time. He raised his brow and looked at the other boy in a different light. Marcus held him in high regard and he knew how hard it was for him to gain true friends, but as his father he was more than concern with Marcus associating with Raa. He join the ranks of frustrated adults rubbing their brow.

It was at this moment Marcus realized he didn't really know much about Raa, hell it had only been week one of school. He ignored half of what was said to Raa and looked down at his shoes half in a daze. Surprisingly not concerned about the previous jail time but with Raa's distress and the thought that he had brought all this on him. It wasn't until Raa stood and left the room that he looked back up, more tears forming in his eyes and then turning into more choking sobs as the principal began to speak to him.

"I don't want you late apologies! I want a friggin normal life!"

"Marcus.."

"Where were all the cameras last year when shitheads were chasing me down the halls cutting up my books that my family had to pay for? Check the parking lot cameras too, the asswipe Greg slit my tires! Is the school gonna say I'm sorry for that too? It won't put tires on my car just like it won't get rid of the feeling of him... aaah!" He growled his frustrations like a cornered animal and stood up so fast his chair flew back just like the other one. He walked away from his dad and the principal shaking his head, both hands balled into fists in his hair.

"Marcus calm down, son." he should of said more to calm his son down but he was just as livid and knowing Marcus like he did, he knew the boy would wear himself out like a child throwing a tantrum soon.

"No! It's so not fair, dad!" His voice cracked and went up an octave. "I didn't do anything anything but try and get away! They won't leave me alone! I have had a perfect record my entire life in school and three assholes try and beat the shit outta me and rape me and this is the bullshit I get?" he had backed himself into the corner and started sliding down the wall. His crying coming in uncontrolled sobs. When it was obvious his breathing was becoming labored his dad flew from his chair and grabbed him by both arms pulling him to a semi upright position."Christ not again!"

"Marcus calm down and breathe son breathe! Look at me Marcus and breathe with me!" Marcus had all the signs of a panic attack. It had been a few years since he had one but with all he had held in it was bound to happen. The boys entire body was visibly shaking and it took him a while to look and focus on his dad. His eyes were shifting erratically but he finally held them on his dad long enough to attempt to calm down. The whole episode lasted for eight long minutes. Marcus curled over onto his side leaning on his dad.