Garlic & Butter

[frostian]

Title: Garlic and Butter - Part I
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language.
Warning: Um, don't read on an empty stomach?
Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, and more fiction.
Summary: Jared was born with many gifts, but only one will give him the courage to take a stand for himself, and create magic out of the most humblest of things. Adapted from Ratatouille.

Main Post


September, 1997
San Antonio, Texas

Jared surveyed chemistry class and mentally rolled his eyes. He knew most of his classmates and they were either helpless or clueless, and for two sitting in the back - helpless and clueless. Jared knew the athletes would immediately crowd around him because he was a jock and smart. So, of course, they expect a ‘brother’ to help one of his own. Jared would love to say 'fuck off' but he was in no rush to experience death by disembowelment, so he’ll probably go along with the plan.

The teacher was busily writing on the board when the door opened and an unfamiliar kid entered the classroom.

Suddenly, Jared’s boring life wasn’t so boring any more. The new guy was nowhere near as tall as him, but he definitely had the build of a runner: short torso, long legs and narrow shoulders.

Completely unfazed by all the curious stares directed at him, the kid broke into a big smile. The newcomer's vivid blue eyes darkened while his face lit up like a sunrise. Whispers immediately filled the room as the Ms. Gamble took a note from him.

“Everyone, this is Kit Jameson,” Ms. Gamble said. “Take any seat you like.”

“Thank you,” Kit rumbled softly before sitting in the front row, almost dead center. Ms. Gamble seemed taken back by this but she quickly recovered and the class resumed.

Jared surreptitiously studied Kit and found himself wondering what he did to come to Fairfield Academy. The kid’s uniform was clean but his shoes were ready to be tossed, and his backpack was even in worse shape. Most parents either sent their kids to Fairfield because they could afford to and they wanted the kids out of the house, or because the kids themselves wanted to leave the nest, ASAP, and their parents had the financial means to oblige.

Jared continued to ponder the mystery that was Kit Jameson as the day rolled on, especially since he and the Kit shared two morning classes. Jared was about to ask Kit to join him for lunch, but the new student dashed off as soon as the class was over. Feeling slightly dejected, Jared was crossing the main quad to go to The Fryer for lunch when he saw the focus of his daydreams not ten feet in front of him.

Kit was standing in the middle of the walkway, looking around him before glancing down at the map in his hand.

“Need help?” Jared asked.

“Oh thank God,” Kit said, wide-eyed. “This campus is bigger than some colleges!”

“Yeah, it is,” Jared admitted with a smile. “What do you need?”

“I’m trying out for soccer, but the team’s first meeting is in Avon Hall?”

“Yeah, Coach Tyler’s also Mr. Tyler of American History,” Jared explained. “So he holds his meet-n-shit in his classroom.”

“Meet-n-shit?” Kit echoed.

“Yeah, he meets you then shits all over you,” Jared explained cheerfully. “The man thinks God should walk behind him.”

“Um … maybe I could try out for football,” Kit said slowly. “Or is that meet-n-die here?”

Jared laughed. “No, and the soccer program is great, actually. Have you played?”

“For three years,” Kit said. “Okay, so where’s Avon Hall?”

“Let me take you. I got a free period anyway.”

“Free-free, or free because you’re not going to class?”

“Free-free, I'm suppose to have lunch now,” Jared said.

"Cool, thanks!"

The two ambled down the walk, enjoying the shade that the trees offered.

“So, where did you transfer from?”

“My parents live in Oklahoma,” Kit answered. “But my dad works in an oil rig off of Louisiana.”

“Sounds cool.”

“Not really. The job's pretty dangerous,” Kit said with a small frown. “But he makes shitload of money so I can’t complain. Anyway, my aunt lives in San Antonio so I’m staying with her while going here.”

“Oh, so you’re a townie,” Jared said. “Not that that’s bad. I’m one too. My mom teaches American literature here.”

“Padalecki?”

“Oh God, you have her?”

“Dude, she’s amazing!” Kit crowed. “She actually said ‘bitch’ in class!”

“That’s my mom for you,” Jared drawled. “I’m guessing she cussed because of a book?”

“Probably, but I wasn’t paying attention. There’s this girl sitting two seats to the right, and holy Jesus, she’s got bazongas out to here,” Kit said, sticking his hands out two feet from his chest. “Man, those could be used as floatation devices.”

“Blonde or redhead?”

“Redhead, and I mean triple-alarm red.”

“That’d be Helen and don’t even think about going near those bazongas. Her dad’s the president of the academy.”

Kit looked completely crushed by Jared's revelation. “Seriously? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Seriously, and the man’s pure Texan. Got enough guns to hold down the school if Mexico invaded today.”

Kit gave a large sigh at the thought of never getting his hands on Helen’s finer attributes.

Jared elbowed him and pointed to the building looming ahead. “That’s Avon Hall.”

“Thanks,” Kit said, looking doubtfully at the building. “Do you play any sports?”

“JV football, basketball and varsity track.”

“Like football?”

“Yah, but I’m not gonna go varsity,” Jared said. “It takes a special kind of crazy to play that level of football in Texas.”

“I might have heard something about that,” Kit said, grinning.

Jared saw that Kit was ready to leave and babbled, “Seriously, the way the coach drills the team? It’s like passing kidney stones the size of New Jersey.”

Kit threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, I’ll stick with Tyler, then.”

“Good choice. That way you’ll actually have a life of a teenager instead of doing time like a con.”

“How’s track?”

“Awesome,” Jared gushed happily. “Coach Mulligan actually knows his shit and honestly, doesn’t care if we win State, but we do a damn good job making state finals every year.”

“What’s your distance?” Kit asked.

“Why you asking?” Jared’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Mine’s the eight hundred.”

“What a coincidence, that’s my specialty.”

“Dude, you’re so going down,” Kit said with a wolfish smile.

“Really? Who’s going to take me? You?” Jared pointed at Kit’s legs. “With those stumpy things?”

“Make fun of me all you want,” Kit said. “But better watch out for me, bean pole.”

Jared elegantly raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, can’t wait. By the way, name's Jared. Thought you should know it since I'm gonna make a habit of beating your pathetic ass.”

Kit threw back his head and laughed before waving goodbye and trotting off. Jared watched him disappear into Avon and forced himself not to follow like a lovesick girl. He always suspected he could be attracted to boys, but he never had the desire to test out the theory. But now, with Kit, Jared had come to realization that boys were equally attractive to him as girls.

Jared wondered when he was going to get slammed with a panic attack. After all, it’s not every day that a fifteen-year-old had such a startling revelation.

Suddenly, Jared heard his stomach rumble in protest. Without another thought, he made a beeline to the student lounge to get something to eat. He still had two classes left and it wouldn’t do for him to face Mr. Tyler on an empty stomach. Not to mention the impending panic attack.

Jared was gleefully sopping up the ketchup with leftover French fries when he spotted Kit coming into The Fryer. Jared immediately noticed most of the female population suddenly turned to study Kit as he got in line to buy food. What Jared had seen earlier was even more starkly visible under the fluorescent lighting. Kit’s broad face possessed high cheekbones, throw in the electric-blue eyes and the jet-black hair, and Kit could be definitely filed under the category of ‘exotic’ in Fairfield.

“Jared!”

Jared hastily popped the wilting fry into his mouth and raised his hand in a salute.

“So, how did it go?”

“Like you said, meet-n-shit,” Kit said amiably. “But I think I’ll try out for the team.”

“Let me guess - you played?” Jared asked. “By the way, where did you go before?”

“Clarkson High,” Kit said. “It’s a public school.”

“So why Fairfield?” Jared finished his coke. “From Oklahoma to here, and public school to prep? That’s a huge change.”

Kit’s bright demeanor suddenly dimmed.

“Sorry, I was just curious,” Jared said hastily.

“No, it’s all right.” Kit took a bite out of his onion rings. “I got sick with encephalitis when I was fourteen and missed a year, and when I finally went back to school - I met up with some trouble.”

“What happened?”

“My dad’s Crow and my mom’s not. Mixed marriage and all that didn’t fly well with few of my classmates.”

“Seriously?” Jared shook his head in disgust. “What a bunch of assholes.”

“No kidding,” Kit said. “Anyway, I got into a fight and things went south after that. But the principal is a good guy. His brother went here and the man pulled some strings.”

“And here you are.”

“Here I am,” Kit said. “I miss my mom but she’ll come down and visit me during the holidays, so it won’t be too bad.”

“Fairfield’s damn good school,” Jared said. “Especially if you want to get into a good college.”

“Oh yeah,” Kit slid his plate of onion rings to the center of the table, a silent gesture that did not go unnoticed by Jared. “I’m going to apply somewhere that’s got a good engineering program.”

“Seriously?” Jared was beaming. “Why engineering?”

“My dad’s job,” Kit explained. “It’s like they spend half the day making sure the goddamn rig doesn’t fall apart because of faulty design, faulty everything, actually. He can’t believe there are idiots out there who get hired to build mistakes. And mistakes on an oil rig? Pretty fucking dangerous.”

“That is interesting,” Jared said. “I like science; knowing there are definite answers - yes or no, not maybe of ‘ifs’. It makes things more … manageable, I guess.”

“Geeks will rule the world, you just wait and see.” Kit looked down at his onion rings. “Have some more. They’re not going to finish themselves.”

“Thanks,” Jared said, feeling the familiar pool of warm form in his belly: one that had nothing to do with greasy fast meals. “What are you doing after school?”

“Soccer tryouts aren’t until three-thirty,” Kit said. “I figure I’ll get warmed up, hit some weights if the gym’s any good.”

“The gym’s awesome,” Jared said. “Why don’t I give you a tour?”

“That’d be great.” Kit looked relieved by Jared’s offer. “I got lost twice already and I really don’t want to be late for the tryouts.”

“Didn’t the admissions office get someone to give you a tour?”

Kit shook his head then pointed to his ragged backpack. “Nope, I’m not rich enough to qualify for the special treatment.”

A dull rush of anger and heat clawed up Jared’s spine. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, not that I’m surprised. I’m a charity case and they want me to know it.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s shitty thing to do.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it,” Kit said with an easy smile. “I learned to ignore that kind of mental fuckery long time ago.”

Something caught Kit's attention and he sat up straight while wiping his mouth with a napkin. Jared turned a little to his right and found the cause for his companion’s sudden change in attitude: Helen Miniver.

The redhead was surrounded by her usual girlfriends, all laughing and eyeing Kit with open admiration. Helen even gave Kit a casual once-over as she walked by. She didn’t say anything but for all purposes, she could’ve kissed Kit because the boy just about turned into a boneless heap as he watched her walk away.

“Now that is surely a living proof that God loves us … holy Jesus, look at those tits.”

Don’t say tits with God and Jesus,” Jared hissed.

“Why?”

“Do you want to get hit by lightening?!”

Kit looked at him then burst out laughing. “Oh man, you’re one funny kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” Jared mumbled petulantly.

“Oh yes you are,” Kit said then pinched Jared’s cheeks. “Just look at you, what a cutie wootie!”

“Get off of me, you freak!” Jared pushed his chair sideways and tipped over, crashing loudly onto the floor. “Son of a bitch!”

Kit’s laughter echoed in the cavernous room, attracting attention from all corners. Jared felt like crawling under the table, but Kit basked in the attention, throwing beautiful smiles at anyone he caught staring. As Jared left Fryer with his new friend, he spotted more than few healthy blushes on his fellow classmates.

They had different afternoon schedules so Jared told Kit to meet him in front of Avon after classes were over. To his great relief Kit kept his part of the promise. In spite of his popularity, Jared was insecure enough to believe Kit wouldn’t want to meet him - not after he made friends with the ‘cooler’ crowd. Jared knew enough of the social hierarchy in the school to guess that Kit would attract attention from Fairfield’s best, and Jared was, after all, only a fac brat which meant his social coin could rise only so far.

“Hey,” Kit said. “I think it’s safe to say I am going to get my ass kicked.”

“I’m guessing you just took a look at all your syllabi?”

“What the fuck?” Kit blinked his eyes owlishly. “How in hell am I suppose to sleep and not flunk out?”

“First, breathe,” Jared said. “Second, that’s like three months worth of work, so don’t hit the eject button yet.”

“American History - its syllabus is forty pages. Forty pages!”

“Kit, you’re going to pass out.”

“America doesn’t have enough history to fill forty pages,” Kit continued as if he didn't hear Jared. “Fuck, Russia doesn’t have enough history to have a syllabus this big.”

Jared looked at his friend as Kit slowly took a few deep breaths. “You doing okay there?”

“Sorry, I just … I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to disappoint my parents. And I sure as fuck don’t want to go back to Clarkson. I can’t go back there, Jared.”

Jared realized Kit’s panic attack wasn’t faked. His friend was genuinely terrified of the thought of returning to his old school. For a moment Jared was filled with the violent desire to find the bastards that hurt Kit and beat them into a bloody, twitchy mess.

“You won’t fail,” he said. “I’ll make sure.”

Kit closed his eyes and muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a whiny bitch.”

“I have a younger sister. Trust me, you don’t sound anything like her, and when you do? I’ll make sure you know it.”

Kit’s smile was small but genuine. Without another word Jared led him to the gym which was actually outside the immediate campus. Fairfield had been steadily buying tracts of land after its board and alumni association raised enough money to expand the school.

“Jesus,” Kit whispered in awe as they walked up the concrete ramp. “This is amazing.”

“We’ve got an Olympic-sized pool. It’s open at five if you want to go for a swim.”

“I can’t swim,” Kit said.

Jared stopped in his tracks and turned to Kit. “What?”

“I can’t swim,” Kit repeated, looking confused by Jared’s wide-eyed reaction. “What?”

“Dude, you have to swim if you want to try out for varsity sports. It’s regs.”

“What?”

“It’s in the school charter: all Fairfield students must be able to swim one hundred meters.”

“Why?” Kit asked.

“Some stupid thing Harvard started like century ago that other schools picked up,” Jared explained. “But there’s no way around it, Kit. You have to swim.”

“Oh man, that’s just not fair.” Kit stared at the entrance to the gym with woeful a look. “I went to public school! We’d be lucky if the classes had enough books for us.”

“Okay, look, try out for the team, and … and I can teach you swimming.” Jared saw Kit’s surprised look and hastily added, “It’s not hard!”

“Dude, you’re not my fairy godmother. Besides, I think people will find out I can’t swim when they see you coaching me in the pool.”

“Just do as I say, okay?” Jared said. “Try out for the goddamn team and see what Tyler has to say.”

“Jared…”

“Kit, shut up.” Jared shoved his friend up the walkway. “Trust me.”

Kit gave a thoughtful look at Jared before giving a heavy nod. “Okay, but if Tyler throws me into the pool and I drown? I’m gonna haunt your non-existent ass for eternity.”

I should be so lucky, Jared thought as he pushed Kit through the swinging glass doors.

Coach Tyler was already checking off names on the roster when Kit joined the crowd milling about the playing field. Jared watched from the bleachers as Tyler gave a small pep talk to the returning players before barking at the new students trying out for a position. Kit’s outfit was as grungy as his backpack, which caught everyone’s attention. However, instead of being snubbed, Kit was embraced into the fold as Tyler made them sign various release forms.

Jared always wondered what was in those things:

The Fairfield Academy and all its various entities herewithin shall not be held liable for any actions of its faculty member, Mr. David Henman Tyler, should he practice cannibalism on the student body as long as it befits the service he proffers to Fairfield Academy and its athletic department.

“What is so funny there, Junior?!” Tyler barked right into the face of a startled freshman. “Do you think this is some goddamn joke? Do you think I’m here to entertain you?!”

The kid was so shocked by the treatment all he could for a reply was a shake of his head.

“Good! Now, everyone, ten laps and I better see some goddamn dust storms. Otherwise, it’s gonna be ten more and ten more until I get what I want!”

Jared buried his face in his hands. He had little desire to see the massacre unfolding in front of him.

“Hey, Princess! Did I ask you to walk?! Did I?!”

Jared decided now was a good time to do some homework. He was plowing through Stendhal’s Le Rouge et le Noir when Kit dropped into the seat next to him.

Jared made gagging noises when he caught a whiff of his friend.

“Shut up,” Kit managed to wheeze out in between gasping for air. “Jesus, that’s for soccer?”

“Yup,” Jared said with a brilliant smile. “So how you like them apples?”

Kit gave a one-fingered salute. “I think I got a chance.”

Jared looked over the field and noticed just about everyone was lying down or furiously trying to rub out cramps from their legs. “I’m guessing you show up tomorrow you’ll definitely make the JV, if not varsity.”

“Why?”

Jared lowered his voice and whispered conspiratorially, “Half of them are never coming back. Just look at that guy,” Jared pointed to a student clutching at his sides. “He’ll probably make it to the locker room, but his friends are going to have to carry him to the dorm.”

Kit coughed and whispered, “Tyler at nine o’clock.”

Jared managed to look surprised when Coach Tyler approached them. “Hey, Jared.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tyler,” Jared said respectfully.

Mr. Tyler mopped his shiny forehead and asked, “So you and Kit are buddies?”

“Yes, we are,” Jared answered with an easy grin. “Is that a problem?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Tyler said. “I was wondering, did you tell Kit about the swim test?”

“No, sir,” Jared replied with big, innocent eyes. “Wouldn’t Admissions do that?”

“Yeah, well,” Coach Tyler looked at Kit with what could only be described as avaricious gaze. “You are one hell of an athlete, I’ll give you that much. You must have worked your butt off back in Oklahoma.”

“Thanks … you, Coach,” Kit stuttered.

“But, I can’t have you on my team until you pass the swim test. So, I’m gonna schedule it two weeks from now. Is that fine with you?”

“Sure,” Kit said. “Does that mean…”

“It means your ass is warming up the benches, for now.” Coach Tyler turned to Jared, “So, you might want to help your friend out and get him going with the swimming.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jared readily agreed. “We’ll start right away.”

"Good,” Tyler said. “Our first game is in three weeks.”

“Against who?” Jared asked.

“Mayfield Military Academy,” Coach Tyler answered. “Bunch of inbred idiots. Jesus, I still can’t believe they give live ammo to those morons.”

“Live ammo?” Kit looked appropriately shocked at the thought of playing against a school equipped with things that went more than boom.

“Unfortunately,” Jared said. “They hosted the state finals two years back and things got very interesting when they did the cannon thing, and the cannon actually did its thing.”

Kit’s eyes widened further. Coach Tyler looked at the panicking student and said, “Don’t scare him off yet, Jared. That’s my job. Anyway, I expect to see ‘Pass’ on your swim test, Jameson.”

“Won’t disappoint you, Coach,” Kit said.

“Good.”

With that Tyler left them. Jared packed up his books and stood up. “C’mon, the pool’s open until eight so we better get going.”

“I don’t have swimming trunks,” Kit confessed sheepishly. “When I said I don’t swim - I meant it.”

“Don’t worry about it, you can borrow one of mine. I got few in my locker.”

“Urgh, tell me you washed them.”

“Okay, that’s just gross.”

“And tell me they’re not those … fucking banana hammocks.”

“Speedos?” Jared began grinning. “Why, Kit, I do declare you are a shy one!”

“Screw you," Kit said.

Jared saw Kit’s anxious look and laughed. “No, they’re normal swimsuits. C’mon, I have to be home by dinnertime.”

“Jared, I have to ask you something,” Kit grabbed Jared’s arm and stopped him from moving. “Why are you being such a good guy?”

Jared wondered what Kit would do if he leaned over and gave a kiss an answer. Realizing that might be a bad idea and since Jared liked his teeth, he said, “I’m kinda like you: I don’t really fit in even though I go here and do varsity sports. It’s because my mom’s a teacher and that makes me a fac brat - faculty brat. It makes me kinda lame.”

“How does that make you lame? I’d think you’d be golden because your mom’s a teacher.”

“The brains think the only reason I got in was because of my mom. The jocks don’t like me because I grew up doing sports around here and they think because of that I have an ‘in’ with the athletic department. But that doesn’t stop them from pretending to be my friends because, you guessed it, my mom's a teacher here and because I do good in school.”

“That sucks,” Kit said with genuine pity. “Man, Sometimes people can be real assholes.”

“Yeah, just keep that in mind before you think I deserve a medal or something.”

“You’re going to teach me swimming. That right there’s enough for you to get canonized.”

Jared wondered exactly how bad a swimmer Kit was. He soon found out when they got to the pool. Kit didn't dive in. Instead, he sat on the edge and dangled his legs in the water.

“You can come in any time now,” Jared said, watching Kit look at everything and anything save the pool, even the ceiling.

“This is nice,” Kit said in a tight voice. “Real nice.”

“Dude, get in the fucking water. We’re in the shallow end anyway.”

Kit slowly lowered himself into the pool, his jaw clenched hard enough for Jared to see the muscles pop out.

“Take a deep breath,” Jared said. “And grab a board.”

“Okay,” Kit said but didn’t move.

“It’s over there,” Jared pointed to the corner where a stack of boards lay. “Unless you got superpowers I don’t know about, you’re gonna have to actually go over there and grab one.”

“Don’t rush me,” Kit hissed as he walked by Jared.

Jared just rolled his eyes and watched Kit grab the board as if it were a lifeline. “Okay … oh, snap, don’t turn around. Helen and a friend of hers just came in.”

Kit stiffened immediately. Jared shook his head and motioned for Kit to move towards the center of the pool. “Don’t worry about it. They’re in the hot tub so they might not see us.”

“Fuck me,” Kit moaned.

“Don’t be an ass. All we’re gonna do today is for you to swim to the other end, holding the board. I’ll teach you to kick, okay?”

“Okay, try not to make me look too stupid.”

“I’ll do my best.” Jared looked over Kit’s shoulder. “Man, she rocks that Speedo like it’s nobody’s business.”

Kit lowered his head onto the board and whimpered. Jared gave a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before he started drilling his friend on how to kick properly. And for the next thirty minutes, the only thing the they talked about was Kit’s form, or lack thereof, in the water. Jared called it a day after spending another fifteen minutes teaching Kit how to breathe while swimming.

Kit clutched at the pool’s edge and looked at the hot tub. It was empty. “Helen was never here, was she?”

“Nope,” Jared said blithely. “Thought that might get your mind off of your whole ‘Oh-My-God-I’m-Gonna-Die’ thing.”

“Five minutes,” Kit glared at Jared. “Five minutes then I’m gonna hunt your ass down.”

“So, you think you’re going to pass the swim test?”

Kit’s anger melted away as he looked at the deep end of the pool. “Probably. Hopefully. Maybe?”

“C’mon, we gotta hustle if I want to make it home for dinner.”

Kit looked at the clock and saw that it was almost six. The two boys scrambled through the showers and was out of the building in less than ten minutes.

“How are you going to get home?” Jared asked.

“Taking the bus,” Kit answered. “What about you?”

“Got a bike,” Jared said. “So … the same bat channel tomorrow?”

“Sounds good to me. Thanks, for everything.”

“Don’t sweat it. See you tomorrow.”

If Jared had a goofy smile on his face for the rest of the day, he didn’t notice it. He didn’t care even when Megan made fun of him during dinner.

And if he woke with the same goofy smile, Jared still didn’t give a damn.

For the first week Jared had to actually peel Kit off from the pool’s edge in order for the lessons to begin. Feeling frustrated, Jared revealed surreptitiously to one of Helen’s friends that Kit could be found in the swimming pool right after classes were done.

She showed up the very same day, bodacious to the extreme in a modest Speedo.

Her effect on Kit was immediate. Given no choice, he managed to actually do a decent job of swimming a lap, though there were few times Jared thought he was going to have to pull his friend to the side in order to prevent Kit from drowning.

Kit reached the deep end for the third time. As soon as he hit the wall, he clung onto it like a baby lemur.

“That was great,” Jared said encouragingly as he reached his friend.

“I looked like an ass,” Kit shot back, darting glances at Helen who was in the hot tub, seemingly busy talking with her friends. “Jesus, why do they travel in hordes?”

“Because they’re scarier that way,” Jared deadpanned. “So, we’re going to have to go back.”

“Don’t push me,” Kit said, looking longingly at the shallow end of the pool.

“Dude, if you get any more dramatic, I’m gonna start humming the song from Gallipoli.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Gallipoli, it’s a really good war movie.”

“Does it have Bruce Willis?”

“That would probably signal the apocalypse. Kit, stop wasting time and start swimming.”

“Are you sure you’re not related to Tyler? ‘Cause you’re doing a damn good job of acting like him.”

Jared’s reply was to thwack Kit on the back of head. His friend just laughed and began swimming back, flailing elbows and hands, kicking up enough water to cause waves two lanes over.

Jared reached the shallow end first and watched like a hawk as Kit slowly but steadily made his way to him.

“He’s awful.”

Jared looked up to see Helen kneeling to his right.

“Yeah … but he’s trying.”

“That he is,” Helen said. “I heard from my dad that Coach Tyler got his heart set on Kit being a midfielder.”

“Really?”

Helen nodded and cocked her head to the right. “And I also heard if Kit does well for the team, he just might earn a scholarship.”

“Seriously?”

“Very,” Helen said. “So, it would be in everybody’s interest for Kit to pass the swim test.”

“Including yours?”

Helen smiled mysteriously. “Maybe.”

Kit finally reached the end. It was only when he wiped water from his face that he saw Helen.

“Oh … hey,” Kit managed to croak out after spitting out mouth full of water.

Jared had to bite back his laughter and look at anything else save his friend as Kit scrambled to look cool after mimicking a fountainhead.

“Just talking to Jared,” Helen said with a soft smile. “You’re doing great.”

“Um, yeah. I am, I guess,” Kit said. “But how do you know about…”

“I hear things,” Helen said before standing up. Her gaze never left Kit’s face as her smile grew. “And I’ve been watching.”

With that Helen left the pool, not once looking back to see the damage she wrought on Kit. Jared had to wait fifteen minutes before Kit was able to climb out of the pool without embarrassing himself.

“My mom can drive us today,” Jared said as they exited the building.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kit mumbled, already walking towards the bus stop.

“Dude, c’mon!” Jared grabbed Kit by his elbow and started dragging him to where his mother’s Volvo was idling. “You’re not taking the bus.”

Kit remained very reluctant but he managed a polite hello as he climbed into the back seat. He gave clear directions and they were parked in front of his house in less than ten minutes. Jared looked at the worn rambler and thought it needed a good dose of paint. Hell, it needed a good dose of everything. But, if the battered Lincoln Continental that was parked on the driveway minus wheels was any indication, the house wasn’t going to get a rehab any time soon.

“See you Monday!” Jared said loudly as Kit quietly slid out of his seat.

Before he could say anything else, his mother grabbed his arm. She gave a single shake of his head and waved farewell when Kit turned around and said, “Thank you for the ride.”

“My pleasure,” Sharon answered with a smile. They were almost home when she said, “Sometimes silence is best.”

“I don’t care if Kit’s poor,” Jared retorted angrily. “And now he thinks I do!”

“He knows you don’t care, Jared. But he does. He has to, seeing what he sees every day in school.” Sharon darted a quick glance at Jared and added, “Did he tell you about his family?”

“Yeah, he told me. And it sucks,” Jared said. “How can he afford Fairfield?”

“It does suck,” Sharon said. “From what I understand his father’s working full-time on an oil rig.”

“He didn’t before?”

“No, they have this schedule where he’s off for few months then goes back.”

“Jesus, so he works the entire year? No breaks?”

“I honestly don’t know how it really works out or what the rules are regarding oil rigs. But I’m led to believe he basically lives on the rig the entire year.”

“Oh man,” Jared whispered. “Kit has to pass the swim test.”

“He will, sweetie.”

“No, you don’t understand. If he passes then he gets to be on the team. And if he does well for Fairfield, then he could get a scholarship.”

“That’s asking a lot from a sixteen-year-old,” Sharon muttered. “Is that why you’re helping him?”

Jared looked sharply at his mother. “Yeah, that and he’s my friend. Why else would I be?”

“Just that you’re a big-hearted kid,” Sharon gently said. “And you do have a tendency to charge head-first.”

“Whatever.” Jared huddled into his seat. “What’s for dinner?”

“Your father’s grilling some steaks.”

“Oh God, he’s gonna burn the house down.”

“No he’s not,” Sharon said. “He might burn the steaks, though.”

“Is that your way of getting me to cook?”

“Maybe?”

“Okay, I guess I could … if you promise to make your apple pie this weekend.”

“I’ll agree to the pie if you make your garlic mashed potatoes.”

“Are you this bad with your students?” Jared asked, grinning.

“Oh, I’m worse. Much, much worse.”

“Okay, I’ll make the mashed potatoes. But if Megan complains one more time that I put too much garlic in it - I’m going to defend the honor of my mashed potatoes. And that might get messy, just to warn you.”

“Warning duly noted.”

Jared could see by his mother’s complacent smile that she thought he was kidding. However, when Megan complained, as Jared predicted, his response was swift and immediate. Megan got a face full of the greasy hand towel Jared had been using while grilling. Predictably, Megan shrieked and ran to the bathroom to wash off the gunk before it permanently ‘scarred’ her skin. She managed to return without being noticed and hosed her brother.

Any response Jared might have had to Megan’s sneak attack was preempted by Sharon’s curt “remember, I have two sons but only one daughter.”

Jared returned to grilling and, just to annoy Megan, he rubbed some roasted garlic along with coarse sea salt on her steak. He knew Megan would gag on the garlic, and the salt would probably turn the meat stringent.

He grinned broadly as Megan took her first bite. “How is it?”

Megan’s face scrunched up a bit and she looked down at her plate, but as she continued to chew her expression turned from puzzlement to complete bliss.

“Megan?” Jared asked, now confused by his sister’s reaction.

“This is just awesome,” Megan whispered before shoveling two forkfuls into her mouth. “Oh my God, Jared, what did you do?”

Gerald looked at Megan’s plate and nabbed a piece. He chewed slowly, his expression slowly melting into one of pleasure. “This is one damn good steak. I don’t understand, why doesn’t mine taste like this?”

“I … um … I just experimented with Megan’s. So, you like it?”

“Jared, this is really, really good!” Megan supplied her mother with few pieces. “Seriously, try this!”

Sharon pronounced it excellent. Jared finally took a bite, thinking Megan was pulling a fast one: to his surprise it was fantastic. He had only ever seasoned the meat with table salt and pepper; that was Texas tradition and Jared had faith in it. But now, he wondered what else would go well along with the sea salt and the garlic.

In fact, the dinner went so well, Sharon ended up treating everyone to the movies. Jared saw few of his classmates in the theater and knew they would be snickering behind his back for hanging out with his parents, but he didn’t care. His family meant everything to him, and the fact that he made them so happy only helped to lighten his mood.

It wasn’t until the next day that Jared found out there was actually a downside to his magnificent meal: he smelled like roasted garlic. In fact, he showered twice, once with his economy-sized bottle of Pert Shampoo. It didn't do any good though. As soon as his mother was close enough, she mentioned his garlicky aroma. Jared went right back upstairs and stole his sister’s shampoo. And when that didn’t work, he just sprayed himself down with his father’s Polo cologne and canceled all his outside plans for the day.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Sharon asked as she and Megan got ready to do some shopping as the stores were having their annual after-school blowout sales.

“No,” Jared grumbled and sunk deeper into the sofa. Of course he’d wanted to go shopping. He needed some new clothes for the gym so he could impress Kit. And hide his string bean legs. And knobby knees. And the fact that you could actually count his ribs if Jared uncurled himself and stood his full height.

Sharon, sensing her son’s dark mood, left without another word. Jared flipped through various channels and settled on werewolf marathon on Sci-Fi. Some gratuitous violence seemed perfect for him. He was making some popcorn when he heard a car pull up. Jared heard his mother’s voice and looked at the microwave’s clock.

Three hours had passed. Not for the first time Jared wondered if the Sci-Fi channel was like some time machine built by a benign mad genius with really bad taste in movies. Every time he settled to watch Sci-Fi, hours would pass without his knowing.

“Here,” Sharon said as she threw something at Jared.

Jared caught the looked at the metal block in his hand. It looked like it was made of stainless steel. “Um, thanks, but I don’t need weapons. I can…”

“It’s for the garlic,” Sharon smiled and sat next to him. “A friend of mine told me about it and I picked up one in the mall.”

Jared looked down at the thing and wondered what the fuck he was suppose to do with it? Brush his teeth? Stick it … where in hell was he suppose to stick this? Sleep with it, maybe?

“You wash your hands with it,” Sharon smiled. “Use it like a block of soap.”

“Really?” Jared couldn’t help but wonder if his mother was having fun at his expense.

“Really,” Sharon said then made a motion to snatch it away. “Hey, if you don’t want it…”

Jared twisted away, holding the steel block high above his head and safe from his mother’s grasp. “Nope, I’ll take it.”

“Jared?”

Jared froze. Was he hallucinating Kit now? He slowly turned around and saw his friend, but it was his mom who reacted first.

“Oh … let me get something for that,” Sharon said and ran to the fridge to get some ice.

“Jesus.” Jared rushed to his friend and hustled him to the couch. “What happened?”

“My aunt’s boyfriend likes his liquor a bit too much,” Kit explained as he sat down with halting motions.

Right then Jared knew Kit had been in a serious fight with the older man. “Did he beat you?”

“Yeah,” Kit took the ice pack from Sharon. “Thank you.”

“Are you alright? Do you want me to get some painkillers?” Sharon offered. “Let me get some Tylenol.”

Kit managed to watch Sharon disappear with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. He turned to Jared and said, “Yeah, the bastard punched Aunt Jenna, so I took a swing. The cops are at the house now, taking statements. I … I couldn’t stay and I had nowhere else to go. I'm sorry for ruining your weekend.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it. Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

“Got no insurance,” Kit said. “And I’m okay, just a little beaten up.”

“You sure about this? We can go to Fairfield’s infirmary. My mom could drive us.”

“No, if I do that, then my parents are going to find out, and then Aunt Jenna’s going to get in trouble and I might have to go back.” Kit took a deep breath and shook his head. “I can’t go back there.”

“Okay … yeah, so,” Jared caught his mother hovering at the entrance to the room. He gave a nod.

“Here’s some Tylenol to help with the pain,” Sharon said. “Do you want me to take a look, Kit? I’ve raised two boys and trust me, between Jeff and Jared I’ve seen plenty of bruises.”

Kit shook his head. “No, ma’am, it’s nothing a little sleep won’t cure.”

“Okay then, just call me if you need anything.” Sharon gave a measured look at Jared before leaving the boys alone.

“You want something to eat?” Jared asked once he knew his mother was out of earshot. “I’ve got leftovers from dinner last night.”

Kit’s smile was tight but honest. “Food always helps, especially red meat if you’ve got any.”

“Hey, just what the doctor ordered,” Jared said. “I made steak.”

Kit’s look could be charitably described as doubtful. “You cooked?”

“Not one word. Just take a bite before you pass judgment.”

Kit took a tentative forkful from his plate. His eyes widened slowly as he chewed. “Holy shit, you seriously made this?”

“Yep,” Jared said with pride. “And that was the second round.”

“This is amazing!” Kit said as he began eating ravenously.

Jared cheerfully looked on as his friend devoured the leftovers. After Kit was done, there wasn’t a dollop of mashed potatoes or a bite of steak left.

“Dude, did you ever think about going into cooking?” Kit asked.

“Me? A chef? I’d probably kill myself the first day on the job.”

“I’m serious,” Kit said. “We get cable and my aunt loves to watch the Food Channel. Being a chef is like being a rock star! It’s awesome!”

“C’mon, man. I’m from Texas. Tell me one famous chef from Texas,” Jared said as he popped open two cans of coke and handed one to Kit. “You have to be from France or New York City to become a good chef.”

“Who says?”

Jared was taken back by his friend’s question. “I don’t know. It just seems like you have to come from a big city and work in the best restaurants to be one.”

“Screw that,” Kit said vehemently. “Did you know some of the best chefs started out as dishwashers?”

“That’s just wrong,” Jared said, wrinkling his nose. “And why are you so interested in my future anyway?”

“Two years ago, my dad came back with big-ass bonus, so he took me and mom out to the best restaurant around. We got dressed up and everything. The food was great and we all had steak. But the steak you made? Blows that one out of the water, and I’m being serious.

“You’ve got a gift, Jared - a real gift. Don’t waste it because you think you can’t. Man, don’t you know? It’s when you think you can’t that you have to try.”

Jared’s smile softened. “Who told you that - Coach Tyler?”

“Nope, my mom,” Kit said. “She used to say that to me every day. Sometimes it’s the only thing that would get me to go to school.”

Jared looked at the empty plate in front of his friend. Maybe Kit had something. Jared wasn’t as convinced but it wouldn’t hurt to find out? Besides, Nana would get a big kick out of it.

“The Food Channel?” Jared asked.

“Dude, turn on the television.”

Jared and Kit hunkered in front of the T.V. and found the food channel. It didn’t take long before Jared found out that it was just a big a time vortex as the Sci-Fi network.

“Look at that guy handle the knife,” Kit said, nudging Jared. “Man, he’d make a Navy Seal weep.”

“That’s some wicked skills,” Jared admitted as he watched the chef dice leeks before dumping them in what was supposed to be a fancy version of good old fashioned beef stew. He gave a side glance at Kit and asked, “So, wanna stay for dinner?”

“Whatcha making?” Kit asked, his attention still focused on the program.

“Um … don’t know yet,” Jared answered. “Maybe pasta?”

“Your family won’t mind?”

“Hell no, Megan probably invited her friends over for dinner anyway. Saturday night around our household is like one huge sleepover.”

“If your parents won’t mind, then yeah,” Kit said. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. How are you doing? Need some Tylenol?”

Kit rolled his shoulders then slowly stretched. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh hey, doofus, what are you watching?”

“And that would be the princess of the house, Megan.” Jared rolled his eyes and turned around. “So, how bankrupt are we after your little shopping bonanza?”

“Hey, at least I don’t smell like…” Megan didn’t finish her sentence. Kit had turned around and smiled at her. “Oh … you … you’re new.”

“I’m Kit.”

“Like Kit Carlson?”

“Carson,” Kit gently corrected. “Yeah, my mom loves westerns.”

“You staying for dinner?”

“What’s it to you, Stump?” Jared asked, slightly annoyed by Megan’s obvious infatuation with his friend.

“None of your business, Jackass.”

“I thought I heard my lovely children,” Sharon said as she entered the room. “Don’t they just sound like they have an English teacher for a mother?”

Kit couldn’t contain his laughter.

“It’s not that funny,” Jared said, blushing hotly.

“It really is,” Sharon said with a quirk of an eyebrow. “So, Stump and Jackass, what would you like for dinner?”

“I’ll be making dinner,” Jared quickly stood up. “I should get started anyway. It’s almost five.”

“Wait a minute - you’re making spaghetti tonight?” Megan asked.

“Pasta,” Jared corrected. “P-a-s-t-a. Spaghetti is what you get out of a can.”

“Well, that’s what we’re gonna be eating when you ruin your p-a-s-t-a,” Megan replied tartly.

“Megan, leave your brother alone,” Sharon said, looking genuinely pleased by her son's offer. “This is wonderful! I actually get to sit back and watch someone else make dinner for me.”

“Don’t relax too much,” Megan said. “We might all end up in the ER getting our stomach pumped before the night is over.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Sharon asked Kit.

“if it’s not too much trouble,” Kit said.

“Shoulda run when you had the chance,” Megan said sweetly.

“That’s enough,” Sharon said firmly. “Megan, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than act like a brat. So, I suggest you go and do them. Now.”

Megan left very quickly. Kit followed Jared to the kitchen and helped him pull stuff out of the fridge and the pantry.

Jared methodically set everything in order on the counter and mentally began planning the meal. He took spice jars from the shelf, and had to wipe off considerable dust on few of them. He chose a cluster of pans before placing the cutting board next to the range.

“You’re getting your mis in place,” Kit said.

“My what?”

“Mis - it’s a French word for when the Chef has his station ready for cooking.” Kit pointed to various knives, bottles, and foodstuff Jared lined up and around the cutting board. “It’s like when you mentally run the race before the race actually starts: getting your mind prepped for what you have to do when.”

“Oh,” Jared said, then blankly looked down at the counter. Mis, he thought. Figures the French would have a word for that.

From then on, it was a blur. Jared moved quickly. As soon as the olive oil and the garlic began sizzling on the pan, he dumped the diced red bell pepper, quickly followed by diced tomatoes. Soon, the entire kitchen was filled with the heady scent of cooking which roused a look of admiration from Kit and quite a few visits from his family as they peeked into the kitchen.

The dinner, like the one from the previous night, was a resounding success.

“I am so glad you got Nana’s talent in the kitchen,” Sharon said as she gathered up the plates. “It’s a real gift.”

Kit gave Jared a knowing look but only said, “I should get going. It’s almost eight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to crash here?” Jared offered. “Mom can drive you tomorrow.”

“Nah, have to go back and make sure Aunt Jenna’s okay. She must be wondering where the hell I’ve gone to.”

“Call me when you get home, okay?” Jared said, scribbling down his number on a piece of paper.

“Will do. Thanks for today, man. I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it. See you Monday.”

“See ya.”

Kit’s call came in forty minutes. It was brief but he sounded genuinely happy to be back with his aunt. Jared was glad that his friend was safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to have Kit sleeping only a few feet away from him.

Sunday mornings were usually sleep-ins for the Padalecki family so Jared didn't bother to set his alarm clock.

Megan woke Jared at seven, sharp. "Doofus, you got a present!”

“I can kill you with my breath.”

“I know, that’s why I’m not getting any closer,” Megan said. “Seriously, it’s from Kit!”

That made Jared sit up. He looked at Megan who was holding an old-fashioned toolbox. Jared tumbled out of bed and snatched the present away from his sister, surprised by its solid weight. He waved away Megan who gave a huff before disappearing into her own bedroom.

He opened the lid and found a folded piece of paper.

Jared,

I found this in my aunt’s garage. She doesn’t need it anymore but you will. You’re going to need a carrying case for all your knives and shit, and that stuff will just shred a briefcase, if they even fit in one.

Thanks for everything.

Kit

Jared pulled out two metal trays and examined the craftsmanship. The entire thing was constructed for heavy usage but it looked like it had none.

Looks like one of those Christmas gifts that gets shoved into the hallway closet never to be seen again.

Jared quirked a smile: that was probably what had happened. While holding the toolbox, Jared examined himself in the mirror. It didn’t look bad actually. The fire-engine red was definitely something he wouldn’t have picked, but at least it didn’t look foofy.

Jared slid the toolbox into his closet and dove back into his bed. Seriously, his crush on Kit was nice and all, but a growing boy needed sleep.

Jared gave an exasperated sigh as his mother straightened out his tie. “Mom…”

“I know, I know,” Sharon said and dropped her hands.

“I gotta go. I have to meet Kit,” Jared said as he saw the clock on Denter Hall. It was twenty before eight, which meant he had fifteen minutes with Kit at the Fryer before they headed for their classes.

“Say hi to Kit for me!”

Jared waved farewell as he dashed off at full speed; his long legs eating up the short distance within seconds. He banged through the main door into the Fryer and slowed down in order to look for his friend. The scene that greeted him was puzzling.

The place was packed with students. Usually, most of his classmates ate their breakfast in the two dining halls, so the Fryer was usually left to the townies who already had their morning meal at home.

“Jared?” a teary voice greeted him from his right.

Jared turned to see Helen sitting with her friends, her face blotchy from crying. In fact, all the girls looked like they'd been weeping for a good hour.

“Hey, what happened?” he asked, concerned.

Helen’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Oh God,” Helen looked to her friends, all of whom looked completely taken back by Jared’s ignorance.

“Helen, what’s going on?” Jared asked, now confused and scared.

“It’s Kit. He … he died last night.”

“Someone's messing with you,” Jared said curtly. “I talked to him yesterday. He's fine.”

“Jared, Kit collapsed last night. His aunt got him to a hospital, but there was nothing anyone could do.”

“Jared?” Sharon’s soft voice drifted and curled around Jared, protecting him from Helen and her awful, confusing words.

Jared turned to his mother who was only few steps behind him. He saw her tearful eyes. “Mom?”

“Oh sweetie,” she whispered and held onto him as Jared’s legs gave way. “I am so sorry, Jared. I am so sorry.”

“Mom?” Jared kept asking, in the hopes that she could correct the horrible mess Helen had made. And even if she couldn’t, Kit couldn’t be dead since he was Jared’s friend. And everyone knew Jared Tristan Padalecki was the luckiest kid to have ever been born in Texas.

Prologue * Part II