Yeah, Right…
Chapter 14: Hey Jude



The ride to school on Monday was completely silent. Spring break always felt like a tease. The one week off always left the students wanting more. But somehow Lance was grateful to be going back. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another tense day in the same house with JC. He could distance himself from JC at school. And distance would be a plus. Lance pulled up to the white building, that oddly resembled a prison, and parked. JC jumped out of the car as soon as possible, where he was greeted with a big ‘hello’ by Justin who had just parked his Beamer a couple spots down from them.
“Justin!” JC called back, then jogged over to his friend.

Lance’s fists clenched at the sight of Justin, he exhaled, trying to control himself from screaming profanities.

“If you keep your face that way for too long it’ll freeze that way.” Beth slung her arm over Lance’s shoulders. He hadn't even noticed the scowl that had replaced his usually bright features.

“Doesn’t that just make you sick?” Lance nodded in the direction of the chatting JC and Justin, ignoring Beth’s comment.

Beth shrugged, “Well, now that you pointed it out, it is pretty nauseating. Come on.” She pulled his arm towards the school. “You need to stop moping, it’s doing absolutely nothing for you, babe. Anyway, this is what you expected, right?”

Lance nodded slowly. Then let her drag him into the school.

JC managed to quickly turn back and catch a glimpse of Lance before he entered the building, a few steps behind Bethany.


“Okay, seniors, today we’re going to be analyzing passages from William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury, and, yes, you will be getting a participation grade.”

JC completely drowned out the teacher’s voice. All of his attention, instead, was focused on the back of Lance’s head. Lance had been so great as to arrange so that they were sitting next to each other during all of their classes last week. Now, JC was suppose to regret it, but somehow he found it convenient, it was his way of getting close to him. He carefully studied each lock of blonde hair on Lance’s head. He wound up only having one class with Justin, and that was gym, where they would be playing basketball together, it was also the only class he didn’t have with Lance, since that was when he had choir. He was relieved to find this out. He liked Justin enough. But he didn’t want to have to be around both of them all day. He liked the way Lance’s hair was so many different shades of blonde. It was golden and honey and dirty all mixed together to make this perfect-

“Mr. Chasez,” the teacher, what was his name again?, interrupted his thoughts, “When exactly were you planning on joining this school?”

“Uh..I..” JC stammered.

“Please, turn to page 72.” The teacher snipped.

JC nodded his head furiously and turned to the page in his book.

Not five minutes later, he had completely lost his place again. He would definitely be failing the participation grade, but he didn’t really care anymore. JC’s thoughts shifted back to Lance.

This is ridiculous. Maybe he had decided that a while ago, maybe he had decided just right then. But it was a decision. This was ridiculous. Ignoring each other. It needed to end. Gay or not. Lance had been such a good friend, Lance was a great friend, and he wasn’t about to give that up. He tore a piece of paper from his spiral, jotted a message down quickly on it and tapped Lance’s shoulder. Lance turned around, rolled his eyes and grabbed the note.

Fuck me for trying to be nice and sitting us next to each other. I’m such an idiot.

He unfolded the paper as discreetly as possible, quickly reading JC’s chicken scratch.

‘We Need To Talk.’

Great. Fucking great. Well, unless you’re on your knees, Lance grinned like a goof,…apologizing. I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere.

JC tapped his pencil anxiously on his desk, waiting for Lance’s response. Maybe…maybe we could pretend. We could just forget anything had ever happened, forget the fight, forget the kiss, forget the fact that Lance is gay and just go back to the way that things had been. But somehow he didn’t see that happening. And he knew that wasn’t what he really wanted. He wanted to be Lance’s friend, and he didn’t want to lie to have to do it.

A piece of paper landed on JC’s desk. He breathed heavily before reading it. For some reason he was nervous.

‘Fuck off.’ Lance’s words were written in neat, square handwriting below his own.
But, now that he’d actually written the note he wasn’t about to give up that easily.

This time he wrote: ‘Lance, I’m serious. I’m sick of this shit. It needs to stop and we need to talk.” JC threw the note to Lance’s desk, but it missed and landed on the floor. Lance grunted and bent over to pick it up.

“Unless you and JC wish to share that note with the rest of the class, Lance, I suggest you put that away.” Lance blushed and pushed the note into his pocket.

He managed to sneak it out of his pocket while the teacher wasn’t looking and speedily read JC’s response. Lance sighed. Persistent bitch.

Lance made his way down the crowded hallway, pushing past freshmen to get to his last class. Lance felt someone grab his elbow, and was about to start ripping off the heads of every individual ninth grader, before he realized it was JC. He wasn't sure if that was much better.

“Now?” Lance groaned.

“Shut-up.” JC pulled Lance into a cleared corner next to a rusted water-foutain.

“I don’t think this is the best place to ‘chat’.” Lance made little quotation marks with his fingers.

“I know that.” JC rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you, that..we need to talk later, okay? I’ll be home around five from basketball practice, we’ll talk then.”

“Oh, JC, I like this demanding side of you.” Lance groaned. “Fine. Later.”

JC sighed. “Lance....I...”

“-Later.” Lance hushed him before strolling off towards choir.

JC slumped his shoulders and headed in the direction of the gym. Later. Later. Jesus, what the hell am I going to say?

He walked into the boys locker room to find most of his team-mates already changing out.
“Guys! This is JC.” Justin beamed as he introduced him to the rest of team, and they all greeted him with various salutations. He needed to forget about Lance for now. This is what he had been looking forward to.

A whistle sounded from behind JC and Justin, quieting the crowd of teenage boys.

“Hate to break up a Kodak moment here, ladies.” Coach Kirkpatrick marched into the steamy room. “Hello, Chasez.” JC gave a slight wave. “But, practice tonight has been rescheduled to last until six, instead of five. Now, quit your bitchin’. We have a new player to break in and if we want that cup, its what we gotta do.” He called back as he exited. “Be on the court in five.”

“Shit. Justin, do you have a phone I can borrow?” JC asked.

“Sure thing. I’d volunteer to take you home, but I have to pick up my bro from his friends house.”

“Naw, its okay, Diane won’t mind, I just need to tell her.”

The phone at Lance’s house rang and Karen answered. Karen told him that six would be fine, JC threw his clothes on as quickly as possible before following Justin to the court.


Lance walked out towards his 4Runner, relieved that the day was over. First days after an extended break always seemed to last twice as long. He agreed with JC though, this had to end. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it was all he thought about. During choir he had completely spaced out while they were doing one of his favorite songs. It came to his solo and the piano had continued and the girls did ‘awws’ in the background before everything completely stopped. All eyes focused on him, and yet it wasn't until the instructor practically yelled his name did he realize that they were waiting for him to sing. Immediately a deep red blush ran up his neck to his cheeks. Several of the girls began giggling, and he had tried to hide his face as well as he could behind his sheet music. The conductor began the song over from the beginning for Lance’s benefit, hoping this time he would remember the solo he had been practicing for the past two months.

That couldn't happen again.

Lance pulled into his driveway. As soon as he walked in, he migrated over to the refrigerator, rummaging for an after-school snack.
Lance jolted when he heard his mother’s voice behind him, hitting his head on a cold shelf.

“Ew, Lance, honey, be careful. That fridge was expensive.”

“Thanks.” Lance rubbed his head.
“Um, JC called a little while ago. His practice tonight is going an hour longer than he expected, and Karen said that it was fine. Of course that was before she knew that I arranged for us and several of our old college friends to go out for a surprise dinner tonight at six-thirty. Which isn't much of a surprise anymore is it? Huh. Point being- I need you to pick up JC at six. Okay, honey? I knew you wouldn't mind.”

Lance barely had time to open his mouth before his mother was half-way up the stairs. He shrugged, grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge, a spoon and headed back to his room before it was time to pick up JC.

The house was particularly quiet without JC. Not like they had been talking a whole lot over the past few days, but there was a sort of emptiness. Privacy. That's what it was. He had almost forgotten what that felt like. Lance jumped out of his swivel chair and decided to take advantage of this forgotten privacy.


JC had no problem adjusting. From the moment he stepped on the court he felt right at home. Nothing else invaded his thoughts. They were consumed with making the basket, or blocking that other player, or making the right pass and as long as those were his thoughts he could carry each move out perfectly, just as he envisioned them. Coach Kirkpatrick occasionally winked at Justin and gave him a thumbs up sign. They would win this year, they knew it, thanks to JC and Justin.

Lance reached to the highest shelf in his closet and retrieved a medium sized brown box, it was in the same spot that he had placed it in almost three weeks ago. He dusted off the top of it and opened it carefully. He grinned when he saw the issue of Vanity Fair with Jude Law on the cover smiling back up at him. He moved the magazine aside and pulled out his copies of The Advocate and XY, he placed them on his bed, before sitting down on the floor, his copy of Billy’s Hollywood Screen Kiss in hand and popping it in his VCR. He had been too afraid to even watch Will & Grace these past weeks, so he deciding this was the perfect way to spend the next two hours.


“Time!” Chris called, before blowing his whistle. “Now, go shower; you fuckin’ stink!”

The team pounded towards the locker room like a group of primates. Hitting each other's backs and grunting compliments.


“Shouldn’t you be getting a move on Lance? It’s five till six.” Diane shook Lance gently, from his spot on the floor, where he had fallen asleep.

“Hmm?” Lance stretched. Diane reached over and turned off the snow on his television screen.

Lance unwillingly gave up his warm spot on the carpet, patted his pocket to make sure his keys were still in there, which they were, and headed out to his car.

“Me and Karen shouldn’t be home too late, dear. And if there’s an emergency, call your father at his work. He’s staying late tonight.”

Lance nodded and waved at his mom before starting the ignition.


Diane caught her reflection in the small hallway mirror and frowned. One of her earrings was missing.
“Damnit.” She swore under her breath. She retraced her steps back into Lance’s room.

“Jesus, Lance.” She swore as she saw the magazines littered on his bed.


JC was next in line for a shower. He glanced at the clock. It was already ten past six. Hopefully his ride would be a little late. He was a mess and didn't want to get into Diane’s Passat drenched in sweat. Finally, Steve, a teammate, finished and it was his turn. He stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the hot water, rubbing his chest down with a bar of soap and wiping away the salty sweat.

Lance tapped his fingers along to another repetitive pop song. Who is this anyway? Dream? More like a nightmare. That was dumb. Lance decided he had been talking to himself for way too long, so he impatiently got out of the car to look for JC. Maybe he’d only been waiting for five minutes, but that was about four minutes too long. He locked his car and headed for the locker room.


Diane almost had to stifle a laugh as she read the cover of the magazine. The Advocate. The gay magazine. She knew that much. Of course. Diane, you idiot. She scolded herself as she lifted the next magazine off of the bed and this time did let out a small laugh. Vanity Fair with Jude Law on the cover. Well, at least my boy has good taste.


“Hello?” Lance popped into the steamy room. Yuck. Jock smell. Lance scrunched up his nose and tried not to breathe too deep. He heard voices coming from the other side of the lockers. Okay. Just go over there. Fetch JC’s hot--scrawny ass. Then leave. Easy. Lance huffed up his chest and strolled over towards the voices. He cleared his throat.

“Um, is JC here?” Lance raised his voice above the ruckous.

“Maybe.” An anonymous boy smirked.

The team tapered to a silence.
“Could you just get him. Tell him I’ll meet him outside.”

“Not so fast.” another player had blocked his way.

“Listen.” Lance snipped. “Don't fuck with me today. I’m not in the mood.”

“Why not, Bass? That time of the month?” a boy Lance recognized from his English class sneered.

“Aww, Lance, don't get pissy. He didn't mean nothin by it. Right, John?” John laughed.
“Sit down, Jeremy.” Justin ordered the boy who had blocked Lance’s way and he obeyed. Lance heard a humming of a shower behind another set of lockers and Lance figured JC must be in the shower. Shit. Lance felt his bravado beginning to crumble as Justin walked closer to him. Justin watched as Lance’s eyes shifted in realization towards the shower.
“Oh, you wanna go help him wash those long strands of dark brown hair, do you Bass?”

Lance’s eyes darted back to Justin’s and challenged his icy glare with his own.

“Oh, but..” Justin’s voice was almost a low husky whisper, but somehow it carried enough to fill the entire locker room, bouncing off the walls and lockers with a ominous force. “He doesn't want you to, does he? He doesn't want you. Like you want him.”

Lance hands clenched into tight fists, his finger nails pressed into his palm, he could feel his palm begin to sting with pain.

“That's, right, Bass. He’s not like you. He’s not-”

Justin was not able to finish his sentence. Lance’s fist connecting with his jaw was enough to make him stumble backwards. The boys behind him crescendoed into a loud roar.
Justin brought his hand up to his mouth and wiped away a trail of blood. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion to Lance. Who stood, completely frigid against the lockers. He had felt every muscle in his arm bend and stretch, and as he had brought his fist to Justin’s face he had felt the stinging sensation in his knuckles, yet he couldn't believe what had happened. And when the realization finally hit him, so did Justin’s fist. At first it was to his stomach, then to his cheek, and eye and ribs and Lance lost count. He couldn't remember anymore if he was screaming curse words or just grunting in pain, or maybe not making any noise at all.

JC stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist. His ears perked when he heard yells coming from the other side of the lockers. What the hell is happening? He couldn't decide. He slipped on his pants as quickly as possible, but he paused when he heard Kirkpatrick's whistle and the loud noise quickly fade into silence. JC grabbed his shirt from the bench.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He heard Kirkpatrick practically scream.

“Justin! Answer me! Goddamnit.”
No answer.

JC was scared. He was scared about what he was going to see when he went around that corner.

“Who are you?” Coach Kirkpatrick asked, this time in a more gentle tone.

“Lance Bass.” A small voice answered.

“He’s a queer, coach.” One boy spoke up.

“Who the fuck asked you to talk? Now, do you want to stay on my fucking team or what? Cause this as sure as hell is not going to make me want you to. Justin, that goes for you too, punk ass. I don't care who the fuck you think you are!”

“There was an awkward silence and it sounded like Kirkpatrick might've been helping someone up, because there was a small moan of pain.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Tears threatened to sting JC’s eyes. He had to see. To make sure he wasn't having some sort of nightmare. He slowly rounded the corner.

The room became deathly quiet as each player noticed JC.

Lance stared at him. He eyes were wide, the one that wasn't already puffed and red.

JC choked. He couldn't say anything. Lance, Jesus fucking Christ. Lance.

Lance wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. Then, suddenly sprinted into a run, out of the locker room and to his car. He didn't want to cry in front of those pricks. He didn't want to to cry in front of JC.

It took JC a minute to realize that Lance was hurt and...gone. And he hadn't even offered to help him. Fuck. JC swore to himself and darted out of the stuffy room, following the same path as Lance.

JC reached the parking lot in time to see Lance’s car speed away. He yelled as loud as he could, but it was futile. Lance was gone. There was no more chance of forgiveness.

JC didn't know how long he stood there in the parking lot, burning holes with his eyes into the black turf. He willed time to go back. This time, he wouldn't have just stood there like an asshole. He would've walked over to him and gently taken him into his arm and wiped the blood away from his face and kissed his forehead and he would've comforted him. Just like Lance had done for him when he was need.

JC shivered as a hand rubbed his shoulder, pulling him out of his fantasy.

“C’mon, Chasez. I’ll give you a lift.” Coach Kirkpatrick pulled JC in the direction of his car.


Diane stuffed every magazine and movie back into Lance’s box and sighed. Why did he have to hide this all from me? Goddamnit, I’m his mother. But somehow she understood, he needed to tell her when he was ready. But now I’m gonna have to tell him I know. That I’ve always kinda known.
Diane, your son is gay. She told herself, trying to get used to the phrase. She giggled. What a surprise.