"Oooooh, Clark's got a leeettter!" a voice taunted and a hand jerked the notebook paper from Clark's grasp. Clark's face flushed red and he jumped up.
"Give it back! Give it back now!" Clark was desperate to get Alex's letter back, because Alex was in the habit of spilling his guts to Clark in those letters. The strapping jock turned to waggle his bottom at Clark.
"What's the matter, Clarkie, miss your fuck buddy? You need a new faggot to play with?"
Clark lunged after the letter but the boy held it high, out of reach. Clark guessed that was better than reading it but not as good as getting it back.
"You offering?" he smart-mouthed, but couldn't suppress a shudder at the idea of being intimate with Kasey.
"Ha-ha, you wish, pansy boy." Kasey moved back a couple steps, trying to get enough space between him and Clark to read the letter.
"Sure, I wish, if I had a couple bags, one for your head and one for my barf," Clark shot back, and Kasey turned an impressive shade of purple.
His temper was legendary. Clark wasn't a little guy, but he was smaller than the school's star linebacker. His teasing Clark and Alex dated back to grade school. Clark wasn't intimidated. He didn't play organized sports, but he liked to play rough, and when he unexpectedly hit Kasey with a full body tackle, the other boy went down hard. Clark got the letter, crammed it into his pocket. When the staff pulled them apart, he didn't explain why he was fighting, because someone would want to see the letter.
Clark didn't protest when Kasey said Clark started it. The assistant principal sent him home with two days suspension for unprovoked fighting in school. It was the third time since Alex left that he'd been in a fight. Alex being gay was an open secret among the kids. Everyone knew it, but no one talked about it. It just was. Clark didn't know why everyone accepted Alex just fine when he'd been there, but Kasey seemed intent on busting Clark's balls now that Alex was gone. Fielding so much gay bashing without anyone at his back wasn't much fun.
* * * *
Clark sat at the bar separating Jared's kitchen from his dining room, looking glum. Jared was fixing dinner for them, something he did most weekends and some nights. Clark was around a lot since making it his personal duty to keep Jared cheered up. Something he was failing miserably at that night.
"Talk about it?" Jared asked, stirring the spaghetti sauce. It was one meal Clark and he agreed on, if Jared left out the onions and mushrooms.
"God, no." Clark munched on celery he stole from the fridge, despite his claim that eating celery had to be the gayest thing ever. "All Mom did was talk, and then Dad fussed at me, and then Mom some more. They blame Alex's dad." Clark grinned around his celery.
Jared chuckled and shook his head. "What were you fighting about?" he asked, reaching for the garlic Clark had chopped for him and tossed it into the sauce.
"I don't even know. Kasey has some fixation on Alex being gay. Maybe it's suppressed attraction. I think Kasey wants me to fuck him."
Jared frowned. "Language, gutter-boy," he cautioned.
Clark rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine, whatever. You sound more like a mom than my mom does."
He patted the pocket where Alex's letter rested, smoothed and folded, safe and sound. Alex was homesick, and he missed Clark, but missing Jared was about to undo him. Alex was coming home for Christmas and Clark was helping plan a surprise. He figured with him and Alex teamed up, Jared didn't have a chance. They had everything worked out. Jared thought Alex wouldn't be home for Christmas, the only thing left was for Clark to get Jared to throw a party Christmas Day.
"What?" Lost in thought, Clark wasn't sure he heard Jared's last statement correctly.
"I said you have too much time on your hands. You need a job."
Clark made a face. "I don't need a job, Pops has plenty." Clark pulled his wallet out, flashing some cash at Jared. He pulled out a card, "Plastic too."
Jared studied the full wallet. "Put that up, no one here is impressed. You need a job. It'll keep you out of trouble." Jared stirred the pasta and tested it, not quite finished. "We're working outside of town on some storage units. I'll pick you up after school tomorrow. Pay's ten bucks an hour and all the dirt you can carry."
Clark stared at him in disbelief. "Dirt?"
"Plenty of it," Jared assured him "Wear jeans, boots, and bring some gloves. But for now, grab a couple plates out of the dishwasher and set the table.”
Clark shuffled over to the dishwasher. "You used to be nice, and fun. Are you going to be nice again when Alex comes back to you?"
Jared strained the spaghetti. "Alex isn't 'coming back to me'. I'm sure he's got better fish to fry by now," Jared muttered.
Clark turned a level look on him. "If you believe that, you don't know Alex." He went to set the table.