Jack’s Ever AFter

Chapter 01

 

Jack burst from the bathroom, still dripping from his shower, with his towel hanging precariously off his hips. Well, he hadn’t showered so much as he’d simply stood in the avocado green-tiled stall for a couple minutes, rinsing off under the hot water. But it would have to do. Surprisingly, his hair actually looked okay. Maybe letting it grow out a bit had been a good idea after all. And it saved him precious minutes agonizing in front of the bathroom mirror–minutes he didn’t have since he’d somehow slept through his alarm.

It was the first day of eleventh grade, so Jack had fretted over what he planned to wear long in advance and finalized his outfit the night before. The chunky black boots he’d picked up from the vintage store his friend Red had once taken him to paired well with his skinny, indigo jeans. He topped off his look with a soft, roomy, gray, long-sleeved button-down borrowed from his boyfriend Damon’s closet. At least, it was roomy on him. Damon’s muscular chest filled it out in a way Jack’s never would.

Once he’d finished dressing, Jack slowly spun around before the mirror, ensuring he wasn’t about to make a huge fashion mistake. Finally satisfied, he grabbed his phone and loudly gasped when he saw the time. He’d planned on being at the bus stop by seven AM, but it was already ten past, damn it. Of all the days to sleep through his alarm! No, he had to stop doing that. He was already too worked up, and it was no use getting any more flustered. He’d get to school when he got there.

After stuffing his phone, keys, wallet, and a guitar pick in his pockets, Jack slid a backpack strap over his shoulder and wordlessly praised himself for packing it the night before. But wait. Did he need a coat? Maybe the charcoal gray utility jacket with the sewn-on embroidered patch that said Floyd? No. He’d already decided against wearing one. Sure, it’d be cold in the morning. But it was supposed to hit 70 degrees later.

Jack rushed to the living room and nearly ran headlong into his older brother Isaac, still dressed in the sweats and t-shirt he’d worn to bed. Jack must’ve woken him. “Can’t talk.” He winced as he slipped around Isaac and made for the stairs. “I’m late.”

“Stop right there, bro.” Isaac grabbed Jack by the arm and held him fast. “I’m driving you to school.”

Jack nearly argued before realizing that Isaac was saving his butt. “Really? Oh. That’s–crap! I forgot my guitar!”

Jack ignored Isaac’s quiet smirk as he rushed back to his bedroom to grab his guitar case. How could he have forgotten it? He hadn’t gone a day without picking up his guitar in months.

Isaac waited by the stairs as Jack slung his guitar strap over his other shoulder. “Computer? Phone? Keys? Wallet?”

Jack nodded in succession as Isaac rattled off his list. “Yeah, yeah. I got ’em all.”

“Okay, bro.” Isaac smiled. “Let’s go.”

Isaac chuckled as Jack followed him downstairs and outside. He wanted to complain but reminded himself that Isaac was rescuing him from being late on his first day. Jack barely noticed the silver-gray marine layer looming low overhead as he tossed his possessions into the back seat of Isaac’s car and climbed inside. The soft leather was ice cold, sending a frigid wave down his back. He definitely should’ve worn a jacket. Then he silently willed Isaac to hurry while he waited, teeth chattering, knowing that saying anything would probably have the opposite effect. It was generous of his brother to offer the ride in the first place. Nolan High was only a ten-minute ride from their Sunset flat–fifteen with traffic–which meant that Jack would get to school at his originally intended time.

“Thanks again, bro,” Jack said as Isaac backed onto the street.

Isaac nodded. “For sure. I heard you crashing around everywhere, so I figured you must’ve overslept.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how I did that.”

Isaac chuckled. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with you staying up so late chatting with Damon.”

Jack huffed. “It was important. We had to make a game plan for today.”

“A game plan? Was that a sports reference?”

“Whatever. Those were Damon’s words.” Jack snorted. “And I play plenty of video games that require plans.”

It wasn’t that long ago when Jack would’ve rather died than use a sports metaphor. But, having a jock boyfriend had introduced a whole new set of phrases into Jack’s vocabulary. Then again, there was very little about his life he would’ve recognized even six months ago during his previous first day at Nolan, a highly-ranked public high school he started attending after he first came to San Francisco in the spring. Back then, Jack was fresh out of his Minneapolis school after suffering through his last homophobic beating. And Isaac had stepped up to take custody of Jack after their mother threatened to send him to a conversion camp. Barely 23, Isaac was hardly old enough to raise a teenager. But he and Jack were both mature for their age, so they made it work. It helped that their brotherly bond was strong.

“So, what’s the plan, then?”

Jack swallowed his next complaint. He was irritated with himself, not Isaac. And he needed to let it go before he got to school anyway. “We’re both busy with first-day stuff today, including Damon’s class president campaign. Plus, he’s got math club and training with Nick, and I’ve got band practice. So, we’ll see each other at lunch. Otherwise, we’ll try to keep a low profile. But if anyone asks us about each other, we’ll just say we’re doing fine.”

“What?” Isaac snorted. “Like roving reporters working the school grounds or something?”

“Roving reporters?” Jack rolled his eyes so hard it almost made him dizzy. “What decade are you from, again?”

“Fine paparazzi or whatever.”

Jack chuckled. “No. But the odds of ending up on someone’s Chattr Live are pretty good today. And we can thank you for that.”

Over the summer, everyone’s favorite social media network took its short-form video into live territory with phenomenal success. Although he often sounded like he was born in a different century, Isaac was a key member of the product engineering team at Chattr that helped pull it off. And that work had recently earned him a promotion to manage his own team. “Ah. Yeah, I tried telling my old manager that would happen, but she didn’t seem to care all that much.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I wasn’t already stressed about how I’ll look anyway.”

“You look fine. And you’ll be fine. This isn’t a new school. You’ve done this before.”

That was easy for him to say. Isaac had never dealt with Jack’s circumstances. He was straight, for one thing. And he’d been a popular jock at school. He’d never roamed the hallways with his head on a swivel, wondering where the next beating would come from. Then again, Jack had recently become somewhat popular, too. And most people seemed to like him. So maybe Isaac wasn’t too far off. “I’m worried about my audition, too.”

“Why? You’ve totally got it, bro.”

Jack frowned. Did he, though? “What if I screw it up? What if someone’s better than me?”

Isaac turned to Jack at the stoplight, his brows pushed together until they wrinkled his forehead. “You’re not gonna screw it up. I’ve heard you practicing. Your song sounds great.”

“I suppose.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna do fine. And, if someone better than you auditions and gets first chair, does that mean you can’t be in the class?”

“No.”

“Would you have to quit playing in your band?”

“No.”

“And would you–”

Jack groaned. “Okay, fine. Fine. I get it.”

Isaac sighed. “I’m not coming down on you here. I’m just reminding you that you’ve got a lot of good things going on in your life. Losing out to someone who’s a better guitar player than you in your high school band class isn’t all that bad.”

“Alright, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, smile. We’re almost there.”

Jack’s new locker in the eleventh-grade wing was on the left side of the hall instead of the right, which would take him a while to get used to. And it was painted light gray instead of dark blue. But it was taller than his old one, so he could fit his guitar case inside, saving him a trip to the Arts & Music building before homeroom. That, plus the ride from his brother, actually put him ahead of schedule. So he had time to stop at the coffee cart outside the cafeteria and pick up a vanilla latte.

Jack noticed a handful of new kids as he walked into his homeroom–baby-faced ninth graders replacing the students who’d just graduated. Mr. Thompson, Jack’s homeroom teacher, nodded when he saw Jack take his seat. Jack set his bag at the desk next to him to save it for Frankie and pulled out his phone. In the rush to get ready and out of the house, he hadn’t sent a good morning message to Damon yet.

Good morning babe. Sorry I haven’t messaged yet. I overslept

Jack waited for a reply but got nothing. Damon had started his day early training with Nick, so he was probably still in the locker room, changing for school.

“Jackie!” A smiling Frankie picked up Jack’s bag to free up the seat. He tried to sit, but Jack jumped from his chair and hugged him first.

“Welcome back. I missed you.” Jack let go and returned to his seat.

“Thanks, buddy.” Frankie sat. Then he retrieved Jack’s backpack and handed it over with a smile. “It’s good to see you, too. You’re looking tanned, rested, and ready.

Jack chuckled. “Ready for what?” When he’d first met Frankie, Jack still had his pale, midwestern winter skin. Jack had since banished that after a long San Francisco summer. Being half-Mexican meant he easily tanned. “And you’re looking pretty fresh, too. I love that shirt.”

Frankie’s wardrobe had always been heavily ‘90s inspired. His oversized, long-sleeve sweatshirt was bright red with white collars and cuffs and prominent, white Japanese characters printed on the chest. The jewel tone looked great against his deep brown skin. His finger-length twists had grown to his shoulders, but Frankie had tied them back to expose the bald fade on the sides and back of his head. “Isn’t it clutch? It’s vintage Alberto Murakami from their ‘96 streetwear line.”

“Clutch?”

Frankie nodded. “Yeah. It’s what all the cool LA kids say. I’m tryna make it happen up here.” He glanced at Jack’s phone, sitting face down on his desk, and popped an eyebrow. “So, how long’s it been?”

Jack frowned. “Since what?”

“Since you talked to you know who?”

Jack quietly snorted. “Not as long as it’s been since I last talked to you. Is that your way of asking how things are with Damon?”

Jack had hung out with Frankie several times over the summer, especially after their mutual friend Red had left to go on tour with Ghostflow and Gossip Project. Well, maybe mutual friend wasn’t quite the right term. Frankie and Red hadn’t exactly been friends. While neither one told Jack the same story about their relationship, he’d heard enough to know that they’d at least hooked up a few times. But Frankie had spent the last few weeks of August down in LA, visiting his extended family and working on his book. And it was the first time Jack had seen him since then.

Frankie laughed. “Nah. I got Chattr, so I know y’all are still together. I’m just wondering if the separation anxiety already set in.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “That’s it. No donuts for you this semester.”

“What? I thought you quit that job.”

Jack had pretty much quit his first-ever job at the donut shop near his house, much to Mr. Li’s disappointment. While the money he made off the song he wrote for Red’s album hadn’t made him rich, it meant he didn’t need a part-time donut job anymore. But he’d filled in a few times when Mr. Li or his son or daughter-in-law needed a day off. “I did. But it’s still on the way here.”

“Fine, fine.” Frankie held his hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to stop teasing you about your boyfriend if you bring me donuts.”

“Deal. What about you? How was LA?”

Frankie sighed and slumped down in his chair. “Ugh. I forgot how much I hate it down there. But it was good to see my cousins.” Then he smiled. “Especially one you might know. Javon Manning?”

Jack had definitely heard of him. “You’re cousins with Javon Manning?” Manning was an award-winning musician known for his funky jazz and hip-hop fusion sound. At least, that’s how Jack knew him. But Manning was probably most famous for getting fired from his first record label after performing at a series of rallies protesting anti-Black violence. “No way.”

Frankie chuckled. “We’re more like second or third cousins. But you know how that works.” Jack nodded. It wasn’t his family experience despite being half-Mexican. But he got the idea. “I ran into him at a family BBQ and asked if he’d write the intro for my book.”

“Whoa.” Jack grinned. “That would be so cool. How’s that coming, by the way.”

Frankie smirked and checked his fingernails. “I may have finished it.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? No way!”

“Well, a first draft, at least.” Frankie shrugged. “But it’s something.”

Jack nodded. “Hey, I write, too, remember? I know the difference between finished and finished. So, when can I read it?”

Frankie sat back up. “You still want to read it?”

“Heck yeah. Why? Did you turn it into a cookbook or something?” Jack grinned. “Although I’d probably still wanna read it if you did.”

Frankie laughed. “Okay, fine. It’s on my computer at home, but I’ll bring you a copy tomorrow.”

“Sweet. Does it have a title?”

Frankie nodded. “Yeah, it’s–”

“Jack Martin.” Mr. Thompson called out. “Oh, I mean Mar-teen. Sorry, Jack.”

It probably wouldn’t be the first time it happened that day, but Mr. Thompson already knew how to pronounce Jack’s last name. At least he self-corrected. “No worries, Mr. Thompson.”

“It’s called Revolution Rhythm,” Frankie whispered.

“Wow.” Jack smiled. “I love it.”

When the bell rang, Jack checked his phone again to see a reply from Damon.

Knock em dead today, babe

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