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Chris whips around when he hears my voice. His ears fold down and he looks like he's ready to make a dash for the exit. "Mark, listen-" He composes himself somewhat and smiles. I remember that smile - the smile he encouraged me with, the smile he commiserated with... I can't believe I didn't see just how fake it was.

I fake a smile back. "Okay."

He he just stands and stares; I guess he expected me to yell.

I nod. "Go ahead."

"This really is not what it sounded like." He shifts from paw to paw, glancing at me and Sam nervously. "Sam was just trying to twist my words out of context."

"Chris," My anger is swelling to the point where I can barely control it. "The phrase 'I hate him' can be twisted out of context. 'Arden's a zombie, and Mark's... well, who gives a fuck what he is.' That seems pretty hard to misinterpret."

"Look, dude," it's like Donnah's trial all over again; there is no defense he can possibly offer up, but he tries anyway. "I'm doing it for you."

"For me?!" I can't believe I haven't torn his throat out yet, but I'm getting there.

"Yeah. You need to focus on soccer more, man." Even he doesn't sound like he believes himself. His paws are shaking and his eyes are twitchier than ever. The track is far enough away from school that nobody would hear him. He knows this and makes his last stand. "Arden was a distraction."

"To me, or to you?"

"To you. Of course!" He looks hurt, but I can see right through him. He's a terrible actor; I guess the only reason I believed him is because I refused to acknowledge the possibility that my best friend could be using me for his own gain.

"Mark, your boyfriend was distracting you from the game; you were slipping."

"That's not what Coach or any of the other guys said." I finally start making my way towards him. He sees it and starts to slowly back away. "It's not what you said, either."

"We just didn't wanna upset you, that's all."

I'm within arm's reach of him now. Sam's standing just inside my field of vision, watching the proceedings with a smug grin on his muzzle.

"Mark, you really don't want to do this." He's not very strong, so an all-out fight is out of the question; he isn't very fast either, so running won't help much. Chris knows all this, so he trusts his wit.

"Chris, after all the lies you've told me, do you really think I'm gonna take your advice?" I grab him by his jacket.

"Mark, I swear to God!" The last of his wit drains out, and he turns to pure survival mode. "If you lay a single paw on me, you'll never play soccer again!"

"Good," he watches helplessly as my left paw arcs through the air and makes contact with his muzzle, "because I quit."

I let go of his jacket, and he crumples into a heap on the snow. I'm probably gonna get in trouble for this, but I really couldn't care less.

Sam walks over and puts a paw on my shoulder. "I can't believe you didn't kill him."

"Me neither." I sigh and start heading for the exit. "Thanks for showing me this, Sam. I'm sorry I didn't believe you guys."

"Hey, if you were as close with that dick as I am with Arden, I don't blame ya." I was expecting cynicism, but Sam was remarkably understanding.

As we pass the chain-link fence, I hear Chris's voice again. "You cocksucking faggot!" His tone is different; I guess that's what he really sounds like. "You won't get away with this!"

We turn around and look at him; he's clearly very disoriented. I guess my punch did more damage than I thought. He struggles to regain balance, but falls muzzle-first into a small pool of his own blood. "You will crawl back to me and beg to get back on the team! You hear me?!"

"Goodbye, Chris." We take one last look at him and head for the parking lot.

"He's gonna be back, you know," Sam says, stopping next to his car and casually leaning on it.

"Probably." I shrug. "He really doesn't have much to go on if he wants to get me into trouble, though. No cameras, no friendly witnesses; but, I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Yes, we will." Sam climbs into his car and rolls down the window. "I'll talk to Arden tonight. Be ready to meet him at some point this week."

"As ready as I can be." We shake paws and he drives off.

Habitually, I head over to the indoor field for practice; I'm about halfway there before I remember that I'm not on the team anymore. This realization makes me giggle with relief; soccer was the only thing holding me back from being completely out to everyone. It was the last door, and now, it's finally open. Had this happened a few years ago, I would have been terrified of what my parents would have to say; but something tells me they won't mind too much.

By the time I get back to the parking lot, Chris's car is gone. I follow his lead and also head for home.

***

Neither of my parents is back when I get to the house. I run out to check the mail and find a large elaborate-looking envelope among the bills and junkmail. It's emblazoned with the Lakeforest logo, so it isn't too difficult to discern what's inside. Trying my best to not shred the contents with my claws in all my eagerness, I tear open the envelope and read the cover-letter.

Dear Mr. Heeley,

I would like to personally congratulate you on your acceptance to Lakeforest University. Should you choose to accept our invitation, you will be joining a long-standing tradition of excellence in liberal arts education. The staff and students of our fine university open our doors to you, and hope that you will join us in your pursuit of knowledge and personal discovery.

Cordially yours,

Roland Breskville (Dean of admissions)

The rest of the stuff is just the usual welcome-packet. I glance through it quickly and find another letter hiding among the colorful pamphlets.

To: Mr. Mark Heeley

You are hereby invited to play on the Lakeforest D-I soccer team; we offer you a full-ride scholarship in exchange for your commitment to the sport and continued support of our fine soccer program.

Signed,

Edward Summers (Head coach of Men's soccer team)

Reading this, I breathe a sigh of relief. I'd gotten letters from other colleges, but none of them were terribly attractive - mostly crap schools that wanted me to play on their soccer teams. I guess the good schools just take their time.

My phone rings. "Hey, kiddo!" It's Warren. "What do you want for dinner tonight, lemon chicken or beef'n'broccoli?"

"I got into Lakeforest!" I just really needed to tell someone that, and Warren is as good as anyone else to share my news with.

"Not a food item, but I'll take it!" He chuckles. "Any scholarships?"

"Yeah, they want me to play on their soccer team!" Then, I think back to what Chris was saying. "We'll see how that works out, though."

"Well, your father has plenty of money to pay for school," he says. "If you feel like soccer will be a distraction, we won't force you to do it."

"Thanks, Dad." I'll tell him about the thing with Chris... but not over the phone. "Oh, and lemon chicken sounds great!"

"Chicken it is!"

We talk for a few more minutes about school before he bids me goodbye and hangs up.

I put down the phone and immediately busy myself with figuring out whom I want to call next. I scroll through the phonebook, realizing just how few friends I truly have. The number used to stand at one - Chris. Then, it briefly went up to two - Chris and Sam. Now, I'm back down to one again.

I hit Sam's number and wait to be connected.

"Hey." Sam picks up. He sounds slightly cautious, probably thinking I got into trouble for the whole 'Chris' thing.

"Hey! Did you get any college letters?"

"I did, actually." His voice softens slightly; I wouldn't be talking about college acceptance letters if I was calling from prison. "Just got one from Lakeforest today."

"Same here, I'm pretty stoked!"

"Me too!" His excitement fades a bit. "Certain others got in as well."

It doesn't take me long to figure out why he's suddenly started being so oblique. I hear a voice in the background: "Sam, who is it?" My suspicions are confirmed on the spot.

"It's just Danny." I feel bad that he has to lie to Arden on my behalf, but it's probably for the best. Sam's the only person my otter trusts now, and knowing that he's secretly in communication with me wouldn't do that trust any favors.

"I'll talk to you later, Sam." I don't want to make things any tougher for him than they already are.

"Alright, I'll see ya tomorrow." We hang up and I head downstairs to get some homework done.

This time around, I don't let my thoughts drift to my encounter with Arden. I have found that, whenever I try to script my future conversations, they always go in a completely different direction, leaving me utterly unprepared. I'll figure out what I'll say to Arden when I see him.

I get all of my homework done and sit around watching TV until Warren gets home.

"Come help me with the groceries, kiddo," he says, plopping several bags of food onto the kitchen counter.

"Sure." I switch off the TV and head outside.

Between us, we manage to get all the groceries into the house with record speed. I mill around the kitchen while he unpacks the food and sorts it into different cupboards.

Something about his studious attention to keeping the house running in tiptop shape reminds me of the mother I never had. Donnah always did things haphazardly, like she was being forced into everything. The house was never terribly clean, and microwave pizza became a staple dinner.

"Alright, let's see that acceptance letter!" Warren tosses the last of the grocery bags into the trash and goes to sit across from me at the kitchen table.

"Oh, alright." I run down to my room and bring him the entire packet.

He looks over it with a small grin playing on his narrow muzzle. We haven't been family for long, but he's already more supportive of me than Donnah ever was.

Once he's done inspecting the paperwork, he walks over and embraces me. "I'm so proud of you, Son."

I return his embrace and decide to tell him everything. "Dad, I don't think I'll be able to play soccer in college."

"Like I said, Mark, if you feel like it will get in the way of your classes, you don't have to do it."

"It's not that."

He sits back down, motioning for me to do the same. "I'm all ears, Son."

I sit down and sigh, wondering where to begin and which parts to leave out. Logically, it would be best to keep the more violent parts of the story to myself; he's my dad, after all. He might ground me or even make me apologize to Chris. Of course, I hardly ever let my logical mind have its way, so I tell him everything.

He gasps when I tell him Chris was behind everything. I brace myself and continue the story.

To my surprise, he actually smiles when I get to the part where I decked Chris. It's a thin smile; a smile he doesn't think I noticed... or maybe he just wants me to think that.

"So, I ended up quitting the team." I finish my story and look up at him.

"Mark," his eyes catch mine; they're deadly serious now. "I won't say what you did was right."

It's too late to unsay anything now; all I can do is prepare for whatever punishment he has to give.

His features soften slightly. "Having said that, I'm not going to punish you, either." He slides his paw across the table and places it over mine. "I don't normally condone violence, but Chris totally had it coming."

For that brief moment, he's not my dad; he's a good friend. Someone I can confide in without fearing judgment. "Thanks, Dad!"

"I'm always here to help, Son." It's times like these that I truly have no regrets for the way things turned out. Sure, we all got a little battered in the process, but in the end, things changed for the better. If I hadn't come out to Donnah, James would never have had the courage to come out to me (and to himself). He would never have tried to rekindle his relationship with Warren, and I would be in the kitchen right now, getting assaulted by my mother's questions, doing my best to escape to my room. I suppose I have Chris to thank for all this. In his attempt to ruin my life, he actually ended up making it fuller and more complete than I ever thought possible. All that's missing now is Arden.

"Here, why don't you help me out with dinner." Warren gets up and starts rummaging through the refrigerator. "Lemon chicken with couscous tonight."

"Couscous?" I'm no expert in food, but that's the first time I've ever heard of it.

"Yeah, it's like rice, only healthier." He pulls out a bag of what look like really small peas. "It's delicious, trust me."

"Hey, if you cook it, I'll eat it." I haven't been disappointed with his cooking yet, and I doubt I ever will be.

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me." At first, I think he's joking, but the look on his face seems serious enough.

"Microwaving stuff and putting things in a toaster is the extent of my cooking abilities."

"No time like the present to rectify that." He grabs an apron from a hook on the door and throws it to me. "Put this on, wash your paws and I'll teach you everything you need to know."

With some reluctance, I do as he says. "I've never cooked anything before in my life, and I'm just afraid to ruin dinner."

He chuckles at my apprehensiveness and pats me on the back. "I have the utmost confidence in you. Besides, there's no better way to impress a boy than being able to cook well."

Without even thinking about it, I sigh audibly. "If it were only that easy."

"Mark, I know you feel like if things don't work out with Arden, it will be the end." He puts down the chicken and turns around to face me. "I know I'm not the best person to say this; if only because that's exactly how I felt... but things will get better - with or without Arden. I won't say move right along and start dating someone else; I know that if I did, I wouldn't be where I am today." He puts his paw on my shoulder. "I just don't want you be miserable during, what should be, the happiest years of your life."

I know that what he's saying is the truth, but I just can't grasp it. For whatever reason, I just don't see being without Arden as a possibility. I read an article some time ago about people behaving in extreme situations. It said that, no matter how much you try to plan and script your life, there will be certain situations you simply cannot plan for; situations you simply cannot imagine being in. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens."

"I'm always here if you need to talk." He gives me another encouraging smile and turns his attention back to the chicken.

***

We are almost done cooking when James walks in. He hugs me and then goes to kiss Warren. "Something smells amazing!"

"That would be Mark's couscous." Warren winks at me. Somehow, I managed to cook something without burning or mutilating it. Even more than that, I really had fun doing it. Since I no longer have practice after school, I offered to help Warren with the cooking, and he was only too happy to accept.

Once the chicken is ready, we sit down and share a nice family dinner.

"Oh, I almost forgot." I'm halfway through my chicken before I remember. "I got a letter from Lakeforest!"

"An acceptance letter, I hope." He watches with great amusement as I sprint over to the counter and grab the letter. "Although, you wouldn't be this excited if it wasn't."

I give him the papers just as my phone goes off.

"Hello?" I answer it and head to the living room for some privacy.

"Hey." Sam's whispering; clearly, Arden's nearby. "Can you be behind the pool complex in a half hour?"

"Sure." I really thought he had a better plan than this.

"Good, don't be late; and good luck." He hangs up.

"Hey guys." I walk back to the kitchen, trying to think up a quick lie. I realize about halfway through my attempt that there's no need to lie at all. "I'm going to go meet Arden."

The atmosphere at the dinner table changes immediately.

James nods. "Good luck, Son."

"And remember," Warren adds, "you're an amazing young wolf. There will be others in your life; don't take it too hard if things don't work out."

"I won't." I might.

We share a big family hug, I put on my jacket and head out to the car.

The drive there is shorter than I ever remember it being. Before I can even process what I'm about to do, I find myself pulling up into an empty parking space.

Some of the swimmers are already leaving practice, so I get out of the car quickly, and head to the meeting spot.

Nobody's there when I arrive. I lean against the wall and glance at my cell. It's almost exactly thirty minutes since Sam called. I know it's stupid, but I begin to get nervous. What if he set me up? What if Arden's just not going to show?

My questions are answered by a familiar voice, coming from around the corner. "Sam, I don't like surprises."

"It'll be okay, trust me."

I brace myself for impact.