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Dox was looking in Jason's general direction, but his mind was wrapped up in hs daydream. It was a good one, involving Jason, a blanket, a picnic lunch, and a warm spring day. Dox sighed contentedly and let his jaw rest on his paw, his lunch forgotten for the time being.

"Hello? Hellooooo?"

"Huh?" Dox gave a start and realized that although Jason had been talking to him, he hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Am I boring you?" Jason asked, sounding annoyed, and Dox wasn't quite certain whether or not he was serious.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking about you, and how I'm ready for the cold weather to be over so we can have a nice picnic lunch somewhere. Or maybe go camping," he added. He'd never been the outdoors type, but the thought of he and Jason sharing a sleeping bag, zipped up in a tent in the middle of the woods was too juicy to resist.

"Camping, huh?" Jason said, a slow smile crossing his face. Evidently, he was having the same mildly impure thoughts that Dox was! "It's not too late, you know..."

Their conversation was sidelined by the loud barking of dogs that were being led through the lunch room. "What's up with that?" Dox asked. Unevolved canines weren't something you saw in school every day, especially in the cafeteria.

"Remember the handout last week?" Jason asked, "Those are the drug dogs."

"Oh, yeah," Dox said, remembering. He turned back around to face Jason. "I forgot all about that."

"Somebody was saying that they found a big bottle of downers in some girl's locker," Jason said, conspiratorially.

"Oh, please," Dox said, dismissively. "I heard that, too. That was Marcy Lopez. Everybody knows she's an epileptic. Those were just her meds." He looked disgusted. "I doubt they'll find anything interesting. Do you have a tent?"

"I have the one from when I was in the boy scouts, but that was years ago. it's probably too small for both of us."

Dox had a mental image of cramming himself into a too-tight tent alongside three hundred pounds of athletic Shepherd. "Perfect!"

"Dox, will you please come with me?" The stern voice came from behind Dox, startling both of them.

"Dox turned around to face the voice. "Oh," he said, surprised to see the school's counsellor standing behind him. "What's up?" Dox had spent quite a bit of time in Mr. Shenkman's office when he was a freshman. Following his parent's advice, Dox had gone there to find relief from his attackers, only to be told time and again that there was nothing that could be done. Although he didn't dislike Mr. Shenkman, Dox didn't invest a lot of faith in his abilities to accomplish things, either.

"Come with me, please?" the counsellor repeated.

Out of habit, Dox turned and automatically began gathering his things. He wasn't in the habit of ignoring the authority figures in his life, even if they were ineffectual.

"I'll see you in fourth, bud," he told Jason, before carrying his tray to the disposal chute and following Mr. Shenkman out of the lunch room. Turning before he was out of sight, he gave one last wave to Jason and then was gone.

Now sitting at the table by himself, Jason chewed a bite of his sandwich as he mulled over what had just happened. Nobody ever got Mr. Shenkman out of his office, the mole had a reputation for that. What would incite him to come out in broad daylight like this?

A compressed wad of bread came out of nowhere, flying towards the side of Jason's head. Reflexes sharpened by years on the playing field brought his hand up more quickly than the eye could follow, catching the projectile before it found its mark.

Looking up calmly, Jason scanned the room for anyone giggling or staring at him, but nobody stood out as the perpetrator. Looking at the football table twenty feet away, he had the feeling that it had been one of them. But Joey wasn't at the table, and none of them were looking his way. In fact, they were very carefully not looking his way.

This was bad, Jason thought. He was more certain than ever that one of his teammates had thrown the garbage at him, and the fact that none of them were looking straight at him suggested that if one of them was at fault, he wasn't harassing Jason in a friendly way.

Jason sighed, annoyed at the other player's childish behavior. Was this the way it was going to go downhill? Chunking food at him when he wasn't looking, and laughing at him behind his back? And all because he didn't like the "right" people. Shaking his head, he gathered his trash and shoved it in the dumpster, wishing Dox was there to make him feel better.

****

Dox tried to make small talk on the way to the counselor's office, but Mr. Shenkman was having none of it. Shrugging, Dox bowed to his wishes and stopped trying. He guessed he'd find out what this was all about eventually.

There were already people in the counselor's office when Mr. Shenkman opened the door for him. Dox knew that severe haircut. "Mom?" he said, confused. "What are you doing here?" then a frightening thought came to him. "Is Dad all right?" he asked, anxiety sharpening his senses.

"Your father will be here in a few minutes," his mother said, examining him with her normal, cool detachment. Without another word, she went back to flipping through the magazine in her lap.

Business as usual, thought Dox. He opened his mouth to ask her if she knew what was going on, but abandoned the idea before a single word came out. He knew from long experience that it was pointless to try to talk to her when she was like this.

Sighing tiredly, Dox marveled at how quickly being around certain people could sap the energy out of him. Ten minutes ago he was thinking about going hiking and camping in the glorious sunshine with his uber-hot boyfriend, and now he wanted nothing more ambitious than to crawl into bed.

Mr. Shenkman took his usual seat behind his desk, his deep leather armchair creaking ominously as he filled it with his bulk. This left two seating options for Dox; he could either take the couch or the chair next to his mother. Fearing that he might become the victim of frostbite if he sat next to her, he pulled an issue of Psychology Today out of the magazine rack and chose the couch.

Dox wore the magazine out quickly. Not only was it one that he'd read on his last visit to the counselor's office two years ago, it wasn't that good to begin with. The psychology behind why we close the bathroom door when we're the only person in the house was not particularly groundbreaking the first time he'd read it. He was about twenty seconds away from getting down on his hands and knees and inspecting the short-pike carpeting for insects when his father rushed into the room.

Giving Dox a dirty look, Mr. Rayburn straightened his tie and sat in the chair. Dox sat up on the couch, hoping that someone was about to tell him why the hell they were all there. They didn't call your parents in unless you'd done something wrong, but he hadn't done anything. Unless... Could someone have complained about him and Jason?

The door opened again, and more people crowded into the room. The principal entered, followed closely by... a policeman? What was going on here? It wasn't a crime to be gay... was it? Dox was nearly frantic on the inside, but he did his best to keep his demeanor calm. Sitting quietly on the couch, Dox looked expectantly at the principal, hoping that he would take charge of this meeting and finally let him know why he was here.

The officer stepped forward, introduced himself to Dox's parents, and pulled a small, crumpled baggie from an evidence envelope contained in his front shirt pocket. Tossing it on the corner of the counselor's desk nearest where Dox was sitting, the policeman turned to him with an air of self-righteous satisfaction. "Do you know what that is, Mr. Rayburn?"

Dox guessed that he wasn't talking to his father. Looking at what the officer had tossed onto the table, the answer to his question seemed self-evident. "I would imagine that it's a bag of pot," he replied, intrigued in spite of him self. He'd never seen marijuana up close before, and was curious about what it smelled like. Someone last year had said that Jack Dixon smelled like pot, but when he walked by Dox, all he could smell was body odor. Or did marijuana smell like boiled onions?

"How did you know what it was?" the officer asked abruptly, as if catching Dox in a mistake.

"Unless you're carrying dried yard clippings around with you, there's not much else it could be," Dox said, hard pressed to hide his annoyance. What was going on here?

"Don't get smart, Kid," the officer said, and Dox suddenly wished that he'd paid attention when the policeman introduced himself to his parents. He wanted to remember his name, in case there came a time to complain about his attitude. "Care to explain how it got into your locker?"

So that's what all this was about In spite of the five pairs of eyes boring holes into him, Dox had to laugh. It started out as a giggle that he was able to repress, but when a little bit of it sneaked out, it brought the laugh along with it. Full-bodied and refreshing, Dox enjoyed his moment of mirth before wiping the corners of his eyes with his fingers. "Oh, jeez, this is good," he said, gradually regaining his composure.

Four different men took Dox's laugh as their signal to launch into somber explanations of how serious Dox's position was, and how disappointed they were that he was not taking this seriously. Watching them talk over each other, Dox almost dissolved into laughter again at the absurdity of it all.

When the voices had begun to quiet, Dox held up his hands. "Enough." He was not surprised that the policeman continued to talk after everyone else had silenced themselves, and he motioned to his mother, the only person in the room who hadn't joined in to harangue him, to help silence the officer.

"If you would allow my son to speak," Mrs. Rayburn said, her stiletto voice cutting through the officer's chatter, "I believe he might enlighten you." Her eyes turned to Dox, and in them he saw that she found the accusations as unbelievable as he did, even if she didn't see the reason for his mirth.

Nobody willingly crossed Dox's mother, and the officer quickly grew silent, but not before finishing his sentence as a token act of defiance. He glared at Dox, as if challenging him to create a believable lie.

Dox took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Now that he had everyone's attention, it was almost as nerve wracking as when they'd been yelling at him. He started out by explaining, "It can't be mine, because I don't use my locker. I don't even have the combination memorized."

"We found your books in there," the officer accused, "so it's pretty obvious that you're using your locker, young man."

Dox sighed, disappointed by the man's refusal to accept the truth. "Those are reference books that we haven't used yet. A couple of literature books, one for world history, that sort of thing. Was the bag found where it might land if someone shoved it in through the vents in the top of the door?"

The officer glared at Dox as if he'd just called him a dirty name. "I wasn't the one who searched your locker. You can be sure I'll ask the person who did, though."

An idea struck Dox. "How long do finger prints last?"

"A long time," the officer said, suspiciously.

"If you haven't dusted my locker for prints, you may want to do that," Dox said. "I haven't used it in four or five weeks, so my fingerprints may have rubbed away a long time ago. Anything that's there might be from the person responsible."

"And if you don't believe me," he offered, since nobody in the room seemed inclined to speak, "have your dogs check me out. Sniff me, sniff my hands, sniff my clothes, heck, have them come over to my house and search my room, too. I keep my books and personal stuff in the photography room, so if you haven't searched there, you'll probably want to do that, too.

"And while you're at it," he continued, "Take my locker door off its hinges and have the dogs sniff it. I'll bet the bag left a residue on the vent openings when they shoved it through."

Looking at the glares of the adults around him, an annoyed Dox asked, "Is that all?"

****

"You got the tripod?" Jason asked, as they headed out to the parking lot.

"Oh, crap, I forgot it," Dox said, annoyed. "Here," he said, handing Jason the camera. "I'll get it."

Jason chuckled to himself as he watched his friend jog back into the Science building. Dox might be a super genius, but he still couldn't remember to tie his shoes. For some reason, Jason found that endearing.

He wrapped the strap of the camera loosely around his wrist and waited patiently for Dox to return. They were to finish another of the items on Jason's list today, and although he had a pretty good idea of how he wanted to set it up, he needed Dox's help to make it work. Today's assignment was "forced perspective", where you lined your subject up with an item that was far away so that the distant object looked tiny in comparison. Jason could probably have done that himself, but to work in his concrete benches would require some help.

And his help had just disappeared. He checked the time on his cell phone, and was about to text Dox to find out where he was when the little dog came bounding out of the building, panting slightly and looking out of sorts.

"What happened?" Jason asked. "Where did you disappear to?"

"Some punks were hassling me in the hall," Dox admitted, hesitantly.

"Who were they?" Jason bristled, clenching his fists in anger, "I'll have a little talk with them and keep 'em off your back." There was a type of eager anger in his eyes that Dox hated to see. It was almost like he welcomed the conflict so he could inflict a little punishment of his own.

"Thanks," Dox said, "but I'm not saying." He held both hands up to stop Jason's protest, and was relieved when his lover immediately stopped talking and hung his head sheepishly. Dox hated to shut him down like that, but he was going nowhere good.

"A while back, you told me you could teach me how to protect myself. You still think you could do that?"

"Sure," Jason said, slipping easily into his Athletic trainer mode. "I can teach you a couple of moves that should be enough to keep most of those creeps away. But you can probably prevent most of your problems just by walking right."

"Walking right" Dox asked, "what do you mean by that? What's wrong with how I walk?"

"I dunno," Jason said, uncomfortable talking about Dox's differences. "When you're not with me, you walk different, like you're expecting someone to come up and hit you from behind all the time. It's a self-confidence thing, I guess."

"So if I walk around like nobody's going to mess with me, nobody will?" Dox asked, voice tinged with disbelief.

"It works," Jason said. "But you're probably going to have to inflict some pain along the way, too." He gestured at a bench on a slight hill that faced the school's parking lot. "Sit down here, pup."

Dox grimaced as he sat. "And that means getting into fights, huh?" When he found bugs in the house, he captured them and walked them outside. Hurting other people, even those who hurt him first, simply wasn't in his nature.

"Don't worry so much about that," Jason said, looking through the camera and finding an angle that worked. "It's like getting a shot at the doctor's. It might hurt a little now, but it'll save you a lot of pain down the road." He grinned at Dox, "I'm not just going to teach you how to fight, I'm going to teach you how to win."

"You're a lot stronger than I am," Dox said, regretfully, watching as Jason extended the tripod's legs. He was still embarrassed by how weak he was in comparison to Jason, but he had been making progress on his body. He'd lost almost ten pounds in the past three weeks, just by watching what he ate. Now he had to start building his strength up, too.

"Winning a fight isn't about being strong, Dox, it's about not giving up," Jason said, confidently. He attached the camera to the tripod and looked carefully through the viewfinder, talking as he worked. "All you have to do is make them give up before you do. And in your situation," he advised, "you've got to make it painful for them to bother you. If they know that picking on you means you're going to bring them pain, they'll stop pretty quickly. They're gonna test you to make sure you're serious, but keep bringing the pain and they'll quit for good."

Satisfied that he had everything in place, Jason asked, "Okay, now what?"

Dox pulled a toy car out of the pocket of his jacket and placed it on his palm. "Now we take a couple of test shots, then go mark the parking lot so you'll know where to park your car when everybody's gone."

"If you want," Jason said, adjusting the tripod so the toy car in Dox's palm lined up with the parking lot behind him, "after lunch tomorrow, I can show you some moves."

"That sounds great," Dox said, "now hurry up and shoot the picture. My wrist is cramping up."

****

The two walked outside into the sunshine and found a quiet place away from the noisy turmoil that surrounded most of the school's public spaces. The weather was turning cooler, and the breeze was a refreshing counterpoint to the heat of the sun's rays.

"The smartest way to fight," Jason told Dox, "is to avoid it in the first place." He took a quick step towards Dox, who immediately stepped back. "There you go," he said, "lesson one. Aggressively push your way into their space until they move back. If they don't move on their own, bump into them. Steal their space - take it away from them."

Dox nodded his head, then suddenly moved towards Jason., breaking his personal space and ending up chest to chest with him. He didn't move.

"You didn't move."

"I know," Jason said, smiling down at him, " I want you to be close to me."

In response, Dox bumped into Jason with his belly, knocking him off-balance and making him take a step backwards.

"Good!" Jason said, laughing, "you were paying attention. But next time, bump with your chest, not your belly."

Lesson two," he continued, taking a step back and opening a space between them, "Look them in the eye. Be confident. You're going to win, Dox," he assured him. "You're going to win because you never give up, right?"

"Right!" Dox said, meeting Jason's gaze and psyching himself up. "I'm not giving up!"

"Good!" Jason said, holding his palm up to Dox. "Now, stand up straight and hit me."

Dox made a fist with his right hand and gave Jason's outstretched hand a good whack. Not that he really had to worry about hurting someone as big as Jason, but he still held back. "Again," Jason said, "harder."

Dox screwed up his face, and really socked Jason's palm. "Ow!" Jason said, appreciatively, "Good hit!" "Now, bring your fist down like this," Jason said, balling his right hand and smacking it into his palm like one might beat his fist onto a table. He held his right hand out, palm up. "You try it," he encouraged. "Hard as you can."

Dox did as he was told, slamming Jason's palm with the butt of his fist. "Now," Jason asked, rubbing his palm, "which way could you hit harder, out or down?"

"Down," Dox confirmed.

"Right," Jason confirmed, "and you might be standing too close to really put your back into slugging someone. Hammer them on the nose or the ears. It hurts like hell."

"So why doesn't everyone fight this way?" Dox had seen plenty of fight scenes in the movies, and they never did what Jason was showing him.

"Because people who don't know better fight like what they see on TV. That's more like boxing. In street fighting, you're not trying to score points or impress your girlfriend. It's over fast. Just hit them as hard as you can and get it over with."

"So what do I do when they push me?" Dox asked.

Jason backed up a few steps. "Okay, try to push me," he said, not even looking as if he was bracing himself.

Dox put his arms up to push him in the chest, and to his surprise, found himself stumbling past Jason. It was like he'd tried pushing against air.

"Try it again," Jason said. Dox complied, and this time found himself stumbling past on the other side. "See? I'm not trying to stop you as much as I'm moving out of your way. If this was a real fight," he explained, "I'd wait until you were halfway past, then I'd put my hand on your back and give you a good push downwards. You'd kiss the ground pretty hard if I did that."

Jason led Dox over to a bench and sat down. "We're going to practice this over and over so your muscles will know what to do when the time comes," He said. "But there's one more thing. If you only remember one thing from today, I want it to be this: Throw the last punch in a fight, never the first."

"And that's really about it," Jason proclaimed, clapping Dox on the shoulder. "Was there anything in there that you can't do?"

Dox shook his head, uncertainly, "No, but... is it really that simple?"

"It ain't complicated," Jason said, sitting back down on the bench to put a bit of space between them. People were beginning to stare. "It's not about knowledge or skill, it's about persistence. Never give up before they do."

Jason was quiet for a second, then looked at Dox like a shy little puppy asking for a treat that he thought he might not get. "If you can come over tonight, we can practice."

"Sure," Dox jumped at the chance. "Will you be able to take me home afterwards?"

"No problem," Jason grinned, "just don't ride the bus. We've gotta get you off that bus."

"What's the big deal with the bus, anyway?" Dox asked, "It's just public transportation."

"I'm just kidding about the bus," Jason admitted, "but the way the others think, riding the big yellow taxi means that not only do you not have a car of your own, you don't even have any friends you can bum a ride from. Double-whammy."

"Yeah, I guess so," Dox admitted. "You ever think about going into psychology?"

Jason laughed. "You're the one with the brains, pup."

He stood and brushed the dirt off the back of his pants, slapping at them with his large, thick paws. "I'll see you in the photo lab. I've gotta swing by my locker and pick up a couple of energy bars before class."

Dox watched enviously as Jason's tight rump bounced its way toward the Athletic building. He thought that Jason was probably smarter than he let on. A lot smarter.

****

Jason's house impressed Dox not because of its size, but because of its depth of character. Dox immediately fell in love with the old farmhouse as it wrapped its creaky whitewashed wooden arms around him in welcome. "This place is great!"

"It's tiny." Jason protested. "I can't turn around without bumping into someone else."

"That doesn't stop it from being great, my friend," Dox said, awestruck by the hundred year old house.

"You've been here before," Jason reminded him.

'It was dark," Dox answered. "And I wasn't concentrating on the house, that night." He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice boomed out at them.

"Hey there, y'all!" Jason's mother yelled out from the back of the house. "Get in here and give your momma a hug!" Jason turned the corner into the big farmhouse kitchen, and was nearly bowled over by a short, robust woman with huge hair that almost made her as tall as her son.

"Oh, and who are you?" she cried, pulling Dox into an exuberant hug as well.

"Oh, I love your fur," she said, releasing him and running a hand gently up and down Dox's arm, "it's so soft!" She had an accent that could only have come from the deep south, her words coming out slow and soft, like honey dripping from a jar.

"This is Dox, mom," Jason said, "He's the guy who's helping me on my homework."

"Oh, that's great, sweetheart, just great!" she said, wiping her paws on her apron before offering one to Dox. "My name's Willamina, but everybody calls me Billie. He doesn't bring his friends over very often. Can you stay for dinner hon?"

Jason spoke up quickly, relieving Dox of the burden of turning her down. "We've only got about an hour or so, then I've got to get him home."

"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed, but trying to hide it. "Well, okay." She perked up suddenly, "I'll send you home with some cookies, then!" Spinning on her heel, she tottered back off into the kitchen, which was obviously her domain.

Dox didn't know why, but she was certainly not what he was expecting! He was thoroughly enchanted. "Is she always like that?" he asked, keeping his voice down.

"Naw," Jason said, an affectionate smile on his face. "She's usually worse."

He raised his voice, "We're going outside, Ma!" Jason yelled back at her, taking Dox by the arm and leading him to the back door. Wooden floorboards that creaked under their weight were muffled by thick woven rugs.

"Wear your jacket!" his mother yelled back, her voice muffled somewhat by the distance.

"Got it!" Jason yelled back, giving the stubborn wood door a healthy yank to unstick it from its frame.

The weather was beginning to turn cooler in the evenings, painting the leaves on the trees in brilliant red and orange hues. A few of them had already released, floating down to rest on the green, short-cut lawn. Jason led them to the center of the lawn and stood face to face with Dox, an arm's length away from him. He rubbed his paws together as if in eager anticipation. "Come at me."

Dox rubbed his own paws together, more because he was tense than because of the temperature. Then without warning, he lunged at Jason, grabbing at his jacket. A surprised Jason couldn't move out of the way fast enough to deflect his opponent, so instead he brought his fist above his head, pretending to hammer it down on Dox's face. "BAM!" he said, loudly.

Dox released him, and Jason said, "Again." Jason immediately turned and walked away from Dox, who got the idea and ran at him at full speed. He gave Jason's broad back a solid push. Jason stumbled, but didn't fall. Turning around, he said, mockingly, "Is that all you've got? Harder!"

Jason turned his back on Dox again and started walking. Is that all I've got? Dox thought. Really? This time, he crossed his arms and hit Jason in the back with his forearms, hitting him as hard as he could across the shoulders. Jason flew forwards, trying to catch himself with his hands, but failing. He landed in a heap on the ground, but immediately sprang to his feet and whirled, coming back at Dox with both arms crossed and raised, preparing to mow the smaller dog down with his rush. Dox yelped and hunkered down, and at the last instant whirled to his right, letting the bulk of Jason's force whoosh past him like so much wind.

Two steps past Dox, Jason stumbled and fell to the ground, laughing maniacally as he rolled around. "Great job, pup!" He levered himself up on one elbow, gracing Dox with a smile that brought sunshine to a fading autumn day. "I'm proud of you!"

Dox stood above him - stunned. "You scared me!" he said accusingly.

"But you did it!" Jason said, triumphantly. "You used one of the moves we talked about!"

Dox looked at him oddly. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"No guessing about it, puppy, you really did it!" Jason smiled at him happily. Dox didn't need to know that Jason softened his blow, or that he'd moved out of the way mostly of his own accord. This was more about building confidence than making him a master of the martial arts. This was about making Dox believe in his own power, and making other people believe in it, too. "See? You can do this."

He lay still and reached a hand up to Dox, who grasped it and pulled. Jason returned the pull, and Dox felt himself tipping over. Jason caught him with one hand and eased Dox down on top of him.

"Sucker," he said, looking tenderly into Dox's sparkling brown eyes. "You are so trusting."

"Your kitchen window's right there," Dox said, wondering if Jason's mother had been witness to the whole thing.

"Mmm.. "Jason said dreamily, closing his eyes and letting himself do nothing more than lay still and enjoy spending time with his love. "That's okay. Let them think what they want."

"I'm more concerned about what your mom thinks about me!" Dox said, his voice a bit alarmed. "I don't want to think I'm throwing myself on top of her little boy right in her own backyard!"

"Okay, then, let's convince her we're wrestling!" Jason improvised, rolling over on Dox and putting him into a headlock. Dox wriggled, but couldn't manage to release himself. "Uncle!" he cried, putting a hand out and slapping the ground.

Jason immediately released him, then moved to sit on the ground next to him. "Did you notice what I did when you hit me?"

"Yeah, you fell down!" Dox laughed. "But then you got right back up."

"Exactly. That's what you have to do. Come back at them, and come back hard. If you bloody their nose every time they touch you, they're gonna stop bothering you. Don't just tap them, cause that'll just piss them off and make things worse. Hit them. Hard."

They ran through another couple of scenarios, and by the end of their hour together, Dox felt like he was much more prepared to defend himself against the bullies who had been plaguing him for years than he'd ever been. "Where have you been all my life?" Dox asked his knight in shining armor.

"Waiting for you to notice me," Jason said, with a wink. "Come on," he said, rubbing Dox's arm, "it's time to get you back home."

Dox notice the time and grudgingly agreed. Gathering up his books, he carried them to Jason's car.

The Shepherd took a moment to stick his head in the back door. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Ma! I'm taking Dox home!"

They were beginning to back out of the driveway when Dox saw the front door fly open and spit out Billie Thomas, waving frantically at them as she tottered down the front steps, a paper lunch bag in her hand. "Hold on, Jase," Dox said, rolling down his window.

"Wait, you forgot your cookies!" Jason's mother panted. "If you can't stay for dinner, at least take some cookies to your folks!"

"Thank you" Dox said, taking the bag gratefully. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay. But if the offer's still open, I will next time, I promise!"

Mrs. Thomas reached her hand in the window and gently touched Dox's cheek. "I hope so, hun. I hope we see you again real soon." She stood at the end of the driveway and watched as the boys drove off, waving until they were out of sight.

"Your mom is so nice!" Dox said.

Jason was dumbfounded. "I don't know that woman. Mom has never treated any of my friends like that."

"Do you suppose she knows?" Dox asked.

"About us?" Jason huffed and looked at Dox significantly. "If she knew you'd been fucking her baby boy, do you think she'd have given you a bag of cookies?"

"Probably not," Dox said. The bag smelled absolutely sinful. "In any case, being given a bag of cookies beats the hell out of getting chased off with a shotgun."

He opened the bag and looked inside. "Hey! There's a broken one in here. We should probably eat it."

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "Bringing your folks broken cookies would probably seem downright disrespectful."

The cookie Dox brought out of the bag had one tiny corner broken off of it, and Jason favored him a raised eyebrow. "That doesn't look like a broken cookie to me," he observed.

Dox looked guiltily at the cookie, then broke it in half. "Oops."

He handed Jason his half of the cookie and munched contentedly. "So do you think it was Joey that put the pot in my locker?" he asked, conversationally.

"Probably," Jason said, the sides of his mouth turned down in disgust, "but I can't prove anything." If Dox hadn't been so quick-witted and gotten himself out of the situation, Jason would have been gunning for Joey's head. As it was, he was just really, really upset.

"I don't get it," Dox asked, perplexed. "What does he get out of being such an asshole? That had to be a forty dollar bag of pot. Who spends forty bucks just to get someone else in trouble?"

"I dunno, pup," Jason said, "but forty bucks doesn't mean as much to Joey as it does to you or me. His family's loaded. He could wipe his ass with twenties and they'd never feel it."

"Wow," Dox said, "all that money, and still a jerk. Think how popular he'd be if he spent his money being nice to people."

"Speaking of which," Jason said, pulling into a vacant parking lot, putting the car in neutral and setting the emergency brake, "I almost forgot. I have a little something for you. I'll be right back."

Climbing out of the car, he walked to the rear and popped the trunk. Dox could see him getting something out, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Here," Jason said, giving Dox a crumpled but sturdy feeling bundle of nylon straps and webbing. "I thought maybe you could use this."

Dox knew it was a backpack, but he didn't realize exactly what he was holding until he unfolded it and took a closer look. It was a Maxpedition bag, something he'd wanted for years, but never thought he'd be able to own because they were so expensive. His mouth fell open in confusion. "Jason, I can't take this," he said, "It's too much!"

"Yes, you can," Jason said, putting the car back in gear and continuing on their way. "Your old book bag is falling apart, and I know you hate it."

"Yeah," Dox protested, "but this thing must have cost you over a hundred bucks." He almost added, 'you can't afford this', but thought better of it. He knew how sensitive Jason was where it came to his family's economic position.

"Actually, it didn't cost me a dime," Jason corrected. "It's Dick Bronner's old backpack. Get this - he says it's too small."

"Small?" Dox said, bemused, "this thing's enormous."

"He just got it this year, but he wants one that can hold his motorcycle helmet," Jason said, as though he couldn't believe it either. "I told him you needed a new bag, and he just handed it to me.

"I think," he said, "he still feels guilty about beating you up that first week. He's really sorry about that."

"He already apologized to me," Dox said, "but if it makes him feel better, I'll take his backpack too!" Dox was elated! No more shitty little dimestore backpack that unzipped itself and dumped his books out all over the floor!

"Thank you," he said to Jason, leaning over to plant a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "You're the best!"

****

"You gonna meet me after practice?" Jason asked, giving Dox's arm an affectionate rub before they parted company.

"Sure," Dox said. It was a big night for both of them - Jason was coming over for dinner with his parents. "You're not going to chicken out on me, are you?"

"Oh, hell no!" Jason said, scandalized. "I'm actually looking forward to meeting the 'rents!"

"Good, 'cause you're gonna get your chance tonight." Jason's phone rang, and Dox wrapped up their conversation quickly. "Have a good day, stud!"

Dox quickly climbed out of the Camaro and headed towards the photo lab, sneaking a glance back at Jason's car as he left. He couldn't believe his luck - that Jason would have maintained his interest in him after six weeks wasn't something he ever expected would happen, but he had followed Mr. Griffon's advice to the letter, especially about not putting pressure on Jason, and it seemed to be working. In spite of their differences, he had yet to tire of spending time with Jason. The fact that they'd been spending so much time together over the past weeks had caused both their parents to question them about the other.

Mutually, Dox and Jason had decided that it was time to start bringing their parents into the equation. Living a life filled with denial and lies to the people you were closest to sounded far too stressful for either of them to stomach. Might as well just tell them and get it over with.

Dox thought that Jason probably had a harder time ahead of him than he himself did. Mr. And Mrs. Thomas were far more invested in their son's life than Dox's parents were, invested to the point that Dox wondered where Jason's life ended and his father's began. He supposed that it wasn't an unhealthy relationship, or even an uncommon one, just one outside his realm of experience.

Jason, being far more socially active, was looking forward to meeting Dox's folks. Although he was a bit nervous, it was like what he felt before an important game, more like being hyper-alert than being scared. He really wanted Dox's family to like him, and although he sometimes felt like grabbing Dox's hand and running down the street proclaiming his love at the top of his voice, he realized that his world was not theirs, and that they probably wouldn't be quite as eager to meet the man who loved their son as he was to meet them.

Dox had assured him that his father's liking Jason wasn't going to be an issue. Dox had a pretty good grip on his parent's personalities, and had told him of his dad's image as a self-proclaimed jock. Given Jason's encyclopedic knowledge of the sport, he should be able to build a bridge or two with him on the subject of football alone. His mother... well, his mother would be something of a wild card. Jason knew that he had a knack for establishing friendships with unlikely people, and he could only hope that Dox's mother would succumb to whatever charms he might bring to bear.

Jason ignored the phone call and hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, locking his car behind him and feeling happier than he had in recent memory. Many people seemed to think he enjoyed a charmed life, full of football, parties and insulated from any stress. Although his participation on the football team did buy him some leeway, he had his own bucket of worries to work through.

Athletically, he'd had a gifted freshman and sophomore year, and was beginning to get nibbles from college scouts. He had no illusions that his skills on the gridiron would take him all the way to the major leagues, but he was more than happy for them to buy him a college education. He knew he needed that to get where he wanted in life, but was he smart enough to make the cut?

After years of coursework that wasn't the least bit challenging, the lack of rigor in the public school system had taken its toll on his intellect. The first few years hadn't been so bad because there had been so many things to learn, but around fourth grade his interest began to wane.

He was a natural athlete, excelling at whatever physical task was put before him. Along with a competitive spirit and an instinct for strategy that an Asian warlord would have respected, his teachers labeled him a jock and tracked down that path. Since he enjoyed physical activity far more than he did sitting in a chair and memorizing seemingly irrelevant facts all day long, that path suited him.

Now, with college looming on his horizon, it was imperative that he polish up his rusty academic skills and get serious about his scholarship. That had been a huge worry for him until Dox had come into his life. Until then, Jason had believed what everyone else seemed to think - that he was a gifted athlete with moderate scholastic ability and no great aspirations in life. He didn't think he was stupid, but the role of high school jock had been so easy to fall into and had seemed to be such a comfortable fit for him that he wondered if perhaps he wasn't destined to fulfill that role? Maybe the expectations he'd held for himself had been too high?

That Dox was willing to tutor him in almost all his subjects had been a blessing, one which Jason had appreciated greatly. What he hadn't expected was that Dox's patient teaching would reignite a spark within him. Seeing his lover's enthusiasm about learning new things had made him remember what it was like to enjoy the challenge of his classes.

Socially, though, he was concerned. He'd learned from years of experience that there were certain indelible rules to his social world, one of which was that if you wanted to continue to run in those circles, you didn't step too far out of the bounds of what was considered "normal". One of those boundaries was, unfortunately, intelligence. Someone who was too much smarter than average simply wasn't going to fit into that confining little circle. If Jason wanted to secure his collegiate future, he ran the risk of ostracizing the same people who had, until now at least, made his life enjoyable. And he didn't even want to think what they were going do when they found out that he and Dox were lovers.

Jason was walking between the athletic and academic areas of the school, contemplating the different twists and turns his life was making when a hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed his left wrist, spinning him around and slamming him into the wall.

Joey's voice was harsh and mean in his ear, "Hanging around with that faggot's making you soft, Thomas. We're losing games because of you!"

"We're 5 and 0 this season, you moron!" Jason yelled, hoping that Joey's testosterone-addled brain could still process information well enough to realize that he was being irrational, but it was hopeless. Jason's arm had been pulled up high behind him in a classic submission hold, effectively immobilizing him while one of Joey's henchmen came up from behind and began punching Jason in his kidneys. One side and then the other, he worked with mechanical efficiency.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason recognized him. It was Jack, a rhino hybrid who warmed the second string bench as one of the defensive guards. He was slow, but strong, and Jason could think of a dozen other people he'd rather be hammering away at him.

Joey pulled Jason back away from the wall, and a third opponent began taking shots at his belly. Jason recognized him as a dingo mix who wasn't on the team, but was good friends with some of the jocks because his father owned a liquor store and he could get them booze. Blow after blow landed on Jason's gut, weaker than those delivered by the rhino, but still fierce enough to have an effect. His stomach began to roil, and he suddenly had an idea.

Jack had apparently decided that punching Jason in the side was boring, because he began alternating head punches between kidney jabs. It's nice to have some variety, Jason thought wearily, as a trickle of blood emerged from his nose.

Two stomach punches later, Jason's GI tract had reached its limit. Looking over at the rhino hybrid, Jason opened his mouth wide and let loose with a horrendous belch, followed closely by the entire contents of his stomach. He'd worried this morning about having a couple of extra pieces of toast, but now he was thankful that he had. The extra volume worked in his favor as he spewed is half digested breakfast at the rhino hybrid.

When Jack stepped back in disgust, he gave Jason the room he needed to drop to one knee and kick the other backwards with the other, impacting with Joey's kneecap with brutal force.

A cry of pain later, Joey had loosened his hold on Jason's wrist enough that he was able to spin free of the hold, his shoulder throbbing from the abuse. Immediately, Jason hammered his fist down on the bridge of Jack's nose with brutal strength. The effect was immediate, blood spraying out from the rhino's nose, cartilage separating with a disgusting crunching noise.

The Dingo, sensing that his personal fortunes had turned, turned tail and ran for the main body of the school, leaving Joey and his rhino friend to either mop up the mess or get creamed by #88. Jason watched his retreat with disgust. No wonder you're not on the team, you fucking coward.

He should not have taken the time to think that, he realized, as thick, angry hands closed around his neck and slammed him face-first against the wall of the building. "You're fucking that faggot too, Jason, and it's turned you! You used to be one of us, but now you're one of them! You'll never amount to shit now that you're a god-damned queer!" Joey screamed in an insane rage.

Jason knew that the angrier Joey got, the more mistakes he would make, but in this case that knowledge did him very little good, for the dark spots that danced in front of his eyes were beginning to coalesce in the center of his vision. His body was failing him, help was nowhere to be seen, and Jason had played out his bag of tricks. Flailing weakly behind him with his free arm, Jason tried to land some sort of punch on Joey's body, but he couldn't manage to connect.

Through the red haze clouding his vision Jason heard a dull thud like a hammer hitting a watermelon, and the pressure on his neck instantly disappeared. Wheezing desperately, Jason filled his lungs with cool air as he struggled to remain upright, his cheek still pressed against the cold bricks of the building. And then, as if by magic, he felt the familiar shape of his boyfriend underneath his arm, propping him up.

"Ungh," Jason grunted, "Oh, God, that hurts."

"What? What hurts?" Dox asked, nearly frantic.

"Everything," Jason said, gulping in deep breaths. His ribs ached and his head pounded from the beating. Forcing his head to move, he tried to look around them. "Where's Jack?"

"Who?" Dox asked

"Jack - the rhino," Jason clarified, between gasps.

"I didn't see anyone but Joey," Dox said, looking around as best he could. Most of his field of vision was occupied by Jason's bulk on his right and the brick wall they were standing in front of. "Try to turn around," he said, wanting to help Jason but not knowing how. "Stand still and catch your breath."

"Looks like you're the one being the hero today," Jason said, leaning heavily against the wall. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I left my calculus book in your car," Dox explained, helping Jason stay upright until he got his bearings, "and I was running back to get it when I saw you. The only thing I had in my hand was my camera, so I bashed Joey in the head with it." Looking down at his camera, it appeared undamaged except for a tuft of Joey's fur sticking out of the battery door. "I think I hit him pretty hard." Dox was beginning to worry that maybe he'd done worse than ringing Joey's bell - could he be dead?

"Don't worry about it," Jason said, "Joey's got a hard head. I'm sure he's all right. We'll send someone up here to check on him," Jason said, "right now, I need to get Alex to patch me up"

"Shouldn't we get you to the nurse instead?" Dox suggested, hesitant to trust Jason's well being to a football trainer.

"Alex," Jason repeated, more insistently. "He won't ask any questions." There was an unwritten rule of conduct that players on all the school's teams strictly followed. What happened between team members stayed within the team. They permitted themselves a great deal of leeway, and in turn were permitted by the administration to do as they pleased with each other as long as their bawdy conduct didn't spill over onto another team or the students body in general. As long as the school's trained animals restricted themselves to beating each other up, it was overlooked.

"Fine," Dox muttered, "Let's just get moving before The Asshole wakes up."