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Good Enough--Crossroads--Chapter Four--Weekend One

---

Chance dragged himself back inside the house through the front door, tired and aching. His normally white fur was caked with dirt and grass stains and his body throbbed with exhaustion as he made his way to the kitchen.

"Okay, I'm done," he declared when he saw his father and Michelle. "I'm going to eat and go to sleep."

"First, not in those clothes," David said warningly as Chance made to sit down at the table. "You're filthy. Go wash up."

"I'm only dirty because you made me do all that yard work!" Chance yelled.

"Watch yourself, Charles," David said. "Don't raise your voice to me. And this is part of your punishment. And, while we're at it, you're not done with your chores. You don't get dinner until you finish."

"What's left to do?" Michelle wondered. She glanced around the kitchen. The dishes were washed, the counters scrubbed and the floor mopped. The laundry wasn't finished quite yet, but the dryer was still rumbling distantly.

"He still needs to finish unpacking his boxes and stuff," David answered, "and he also has to do a portrait of you."

"A what?" Chance and Michelle said at the same time.

"A portrait," David repeated. "Do a good job."

"I didn't agree to this," Chance scoffed.

"So what? You'll do it anyway and do a good job if you don't want your punishment extended."

Chance huffed. "Fine. Let me shower and stuff first."

"Living room, thirty minutes," David ordered. "And you"--he kissed his wife's cheek--"why don't you wear that red dress I love?"

Chance suppressed his urge to gag.

---

Thirty minutes later, Chance dragged himself into the living room where Michelle and David were seated, watching a TV movie together. Chance paused just before he was noticed, studying the sight carefully. Michelle had changed from her loungewear into a greenish skirt, her hair tied back into a ponytail. David was still in a tank-top and jeans, his arm around his wife lovingly.

"Don't move," Chance said as he sank into his father's armchair. He set his sketchbook on his lap, opening to a blank page.

"Wait, I'm not--"

"Dad, just stay there, okay?" Chance insisted. "It'll be done in a minute. Just let me..."

He began to draw and he glanced up every few seconds to ensure he was drawing accurately. His father and stepmother both looked uneasy, afraid to move. They spoke to each other in low voices, but Chance tuned them (and the TV) out completely, focused entirely on his drawing. Sure, as he looked, there was a bit of artistic license. No, his father wasn't dressed in a suit nor was his stepmother wearing her hair in such intricate curls. And he was pretty sure that the living room didn't have such a nice, large window behind the couch to let in such light.

But the drawing was good.

"Okay, you guys can move now," Chance said forty-five minutes later.

"You're already done?" Michelle gasped.

"Mostly. Got a bit more I want to do, but--"

"May I?" she asked, standing.

Chance hesitated but handed over his sketchbook. She glanced at it and he shifted nervously in the chair, waiting for her to speak. David stood and glanced over her shoulder, his eyes opening slightly wider, impressed against his will.

"Sorry, it's a bit rough, but--"

"This is really good," Michelle said. "I'm very impressed, Charles." She began to turn the page. "These are incredible."

"They're pretty good," David agreed. "Although, they could use some color."

Chance scoffed. "Not all art needs color."

"Who's this dog you keep drawing?" Michelle wondered. "There's three drawings of him."

Chance thought for a moment. Dog? Realization dawned slowly, but he soon reached for his sketchbook, but his father grasped it first. "Can I have that back?" Chance asked hurriedly. "That's still my sketchbook."

"Who is he?" David demanded.

"A classmate," Chance insisted.

"That's what you said last time. Who is he? What's his name?"

"I don't remember!"

"You're lying."

"He's a classmate and he's in the art club," Chance said quickly. "Dad, please, I really don't want to have this conversation right now."

"Some new crush?" Michelle said almost tauntingly. Chance snatched his sketchbook back and started to walk away. "Charles, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Your father and I both know what it's like to be a teenager. Hormones and puberty and--"

"Please stop!" Chance insisted.

"A new crush?" David asked darkly. "I was hoping you were over this little bi-curious phase."

"It's not a phase," Chance said, "and I'm not bi-curious. I'm gay. Is that a problem? Ma doesn't care about it."

David bit back his retort.

"No, it's not a problem," Michelle said kindly. "David, he's still your cub."

Chance exhaled sharply. "I'll be in my room."

"Fine," David said. "Go. And while you're up there, unpack those boxes."

"Yes, sir." Chance walked away, hurrying up to his room and closing the door behind him. He sat down on his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He hesitated for a moment before dialing his mother's number. She picked up after the second ring. "Ma?"

"Hey, Charlie," Elaine answered. "What's wrong? You sound a bit down."

"Can I just vent?"

"Sure. Talk to me. What's bothering you, sweetheart?"

"Is it okay to be gay?"

"I don't mind if you are," Elaine answered simply. "I thought we've already had this conversation. Did something happen?"

Chance swallowed thickly. "I... I don't know. Dad's just being Dad, I guess."

"What'd he say?"

"It's nothing," Chance answered. "It's all good."

"Charlie, I don't care what your father says," Elaine said. "You're you and I'm more than proud to be your mother."

"Then why didn't you take me with you?" Chance asked before he could stop himself.

Elaine didn't answer immediately. In the background, Chance could hear somebody else around her, speaking uproariously. "Charlie, if I could afford to look after you, I would. But your father's more stable than me."

"I'd still rather be living with you."

"Perhaps, but I know what's best for you," Elaine said sternly. "Charles, you may not like it, but you'll thank me for it later."

---

"You better not fall asleep during the service," David warned the next morning as they pulled into the church's parking lot. He glared into the rearview mirror at his son, slumped awkwardly against the window, neither asleep nor fully awake. In the passenger seat, Michelle was adjusting her necklace.

"Why'd I have to be here?" Chance grumbled. "I'd rather be at home asleep."

"If you weren't grounded, you could do whatever you wanted to," David snapped, parking. "So stop whining."

Chance got out of the car with his father and stepmother, fidgeting with his tie as he stepped out. He hated dressing up in a suit, but his father's insistence had defeated his sleepy arguments relatively quickly. And now, with the red tie around his neck, he felt more out of place than ever.

"Michelle!" called a happy voice.

A lioness, with a buff and graying lion close by, was hurrying over to them, hugging Michelle kindly. Michelle was grinning happily.

"Vivian, it's so great to see you!" she said warmly. "And you two, Derek," she added to the lion, who nodded.

"So, is this the new hubby you've been bragging about?" Vivian asked. "You look like you married well."

"I did," Michelle answered happily. "This is David and my stepson, Charles."

"Nice to meet you two," Vivian said kindly. "You all look like a nice, happy family." She glanced around. "Where's Sylvia?"

"She's--"

"Right here." Jogging over to them was a young lioness in a violet dress, smiling happily. "Hi, Miss Wilson," she greeted cheerfully.

"Actually, it's Mrs. Argent now," Michelle said, showing off her wedding ring.

"Congrats," Sylvia said happily. She turned her head slightly. "Hey, I know you," she said to Chance. "Aren't you in my geometry class?"

Chance frowned. He looked over her carefully; something about her was vaguely familiar but he rarely paid attention in class to begin with. Yet it seemed to rude to say so. Instead, he said, "I think so. Second period?"

"Yep," Sylvia answered. "You wouldn't have happened to finish the homework, would you?"

"Homework?" Chance murmured. "Uh... yeah..." he said, wilting under the discerning gaze of his father.

"I thought you said you didn't have any homework," David rumbled.

"Well, I might've forgotten about something," Chance murmured.

"We'll discuss this later," David said, "but we'd better get inside. We're going to be late."

---

The service seemed to run long. Chance found his attention drifting in and out and more than once, he'd completely lost track of what had been said or the songs sung by the choir. Seated beside Sylvia, he often found himself glancing over at her; from time to time, she would pull out her cell phone. By the time the pastor's sermon was over and the congregation dismissed, Chance was more than ready to leave and stood up happily. He began to follow his father and stepmother (who was conversing happily with Vivian and Derek) out to the parking lot, Sylvia beside him.

"So," Sylvia started uncertainly, "how're you doing? Enjoying your weekend?"

Chance shrugged; this conversation felt forced and awkward. "Kind of. Been nothing but chores and work and stuff. My dad's a taskmaster."

"I hear you," Sylvia answered. "My parents can be that way. Do this, do that. It's always something for them." She giggled slightly.

"Yeah, but my dad's kind of mad at me," Chance confessed. "I said some stuff I shouldn't have."

"What'd you say?"

He rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle. "I'd honestly rather not repeat it. So, do you remember the homework from geometry?"

"Yeah, I wrote it down. I can text it to you later," she offered. "What's your number?"

A few minutes later, Chance was going back to his father's car, getting into the backseat as he waved at Sylvia with a grin. Soon enough, they were pulling away from the church and Chance glanced down at his phone. Already, she had texted him, telling him to save her number. From the front seat, David spoke up, more towards his wife than his son.

"Vivian and Derek seemed nice," he said.

"They are," Michelle confirmed, "and their daughter is absolutely sweet. You know, they're having a barbecue next Saturday and we should stop by. I'm sure you and Derek would be great friends."

"Not a bad idea," David remarked. "So, Chance, how do you know Sylvia again?"

"She's in my geometry class," Chance answered absently, busily texting Sylvia even as they were speaking.

"Seemed like a nice lady," David continued. "Maybe you should ask her out on a date."

"That's funny," Chance said distractedly.

"Did you hear what I said?"

Chance looked up. "Huh?"

"I said you should take Sylvia out on a date," David repeated. "Get to know her better. Maybe get that gay stuff out of your head."

Chance was about to argue but he stopped himself. This was an argument he didn't want to have twice in one weekend, though he doubted it would simply go away. Instead, he merely said, "Yeah, okay."

"So, she mentioned something about homework," David continued. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you told me that you didn't have any homework to do."

Chance winced. "Well, as far as I knew, I didn't but she'll text me the info! I promise I'll get it done."

"That's not good enough anymore," David said firmly. "I don't want your grades plummeting like last year. This year, you will do better. No more excuses. Anything lower than a B and you'll regret it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."