“Hold still.” Fletcher complained when Holly yawned once again. They were in Art class, and Fletcher was trying to apply plaster strips to Holly’s face. Today they had started making masks.
“Sorry.” Holly said as Fletcher tried to get plaster around her nose without clogging her airways. He ended up shoving a strip in her mouth, which she then spat out on the table. She glared at him. “You did that on purpose!”
“No.” Fletcher said, trying to hide a laugh. “You moved.” He smoothed plaster on her forehead, being careful not to get it on her hair, which was pulled back with an elastic headband, just like his was. “Now stay still.”
Holly did what she was told and Fletcher quickly finished. Then Holly applied plaster to his face. He made sure to stay perfectly still, so she finished faster than he had. They both sat there, unable to talk, while the plaster hardened.
“This has to be the quietest you have ever been.” The Art teacher, Mrs. Ayers, laughed. Fletcher carefully turned his head to watch as she made her rounds of the room. She was his favourite teacher this semester, since she had no problem with the gruesome scenes he painted, or the rainbows that made their way into most of his work.
Holly poked his arm and he looked at her. She pointed down at a piece of paper that she had written on. Fletcher read what she was trying to say. ‘Going to the game?’
Fletcher managed to keep from sighing. Today was Holly’s first school game as a cheerleader. She wanted him to stick around to watch, but he didn’t really want to. He knew that he owed it to her, though, so he probably would end up going. The reason he didn’t want to go was because he was worried Lance would be there.
Fletcher had managed to avoid Lance since Halloween. Even though he knew that Lance had been drunk, he felt uncomfortable around him. Sure, he felt attracted to Lance, and on some level wanted what had happened to happen again, but he knew that Lance had a girlfriend.
Suddenly Holly started making odd hand gestures. She pointed at the door while waving a hand in Fletcher’s face. Curious, Fletcher looked at the door to see what had her so excited.
Lance was standing in the doorway.
Why? Fletcher wondered. He hoped that Lance wouldn’t recognize him because of the plaster. What is he doing here?
Mrs. Ayers hurried over to the door to see just that. Lance clearly looked bothered by the plaster-smeared faces that were looking at him. He focused on what he had to say to Mrs. Ayers.
After she was done talking to Lance, Mrs. Ayers turned to the class. She scanned over the students as if looking for something. “Fletcher.” She called. She beckoned him up to the front of the room.
Fletcher gulped as he got to his feet. He walked up to Mrs. Ayers, ignoring Lance’s presence. He tilted his head to the side instead of asking what she needed.
“The baseball team needs your help.” She told him. “They’re painting a banner for the Football team. You’re the best student in this class, so why don’t you help out?” She handed him a cardboard box of paint bottles. “Go Otters.” She laughed.
Fletcher was glad he couldn’t move his face. He didn’t think he would have been able to force out a laugh. Silently, he followed Lance out of the room, gripping the cardboard box tightly.
“Uh, so…” Lance muttered as they walked. “What’s with the white goo on your face?”
Fletcher focused on balancing the box on the palm of one hand. He pointed at a little symbol on the box, which had originally been used to hold props for the theatre club. The symbol was of two masks.
“Oh.” Lance breathed.
They walked in silence down the halls. When they turned a corner, Fletcher saw the rest of the baseball team gathered around a large piece of white paper. They were painting carefully on it, forming words.
“Hey!” Lance called out to them. “I brought paint!”
The team looked up. They jumped a little when they saw Fletcher. “What’s with the goop?” One of them asked, laughing.
“Masks.” Lance answered. He crouched down and took the box from Fletcher. “Fletcher came to help us.”
“Great.” One of the boys said, only half sarcastically.
Fletcher got to work. As the team worked on the lettering, he painted a football flying through the air, and then a goal post and one of their school's helmets. He was half aware of people staring at him as he worked.
Once, his arm brushed against Lance’s and he stiffened. Lance pulled away from him, muttering that he was sorry, and went to work on the other side of the banner. Fletcher watched him for a bit, and had to force himself to look away.
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