Since a few people noted that the last chapter "just seemed to stop" I thought I'd mention again that this arc is going to be like that (i.e., each chapter is not going to wrap up neatly like before), because this arc is really like one long chapter - sort of like a mini-series. I'm not going to do cliff-hanger endings though, so I'll try to have each chapter obtain some closure, but there is no avoiding the "just seemed to stop" thing altogether. Also, some people were a little confused by the shift to telling just the "young Aaron" part of the story. So I figure that a short recap is in order. The last chapter (32) picks up where the first half of chapter 31 left off. Aaron is in the sixth grade and he will turn 12 in less than a month. (His birthday is in January.) James is a year older, so he's nearly 13 and he's in the seventh grade. This arc will cover approximately two years, from the making of the Star Wars movie, to when it comes out, and the aftermath. Oh - and I will pick up the story-line from the older Aaron once this arc is done. To further help keep track of things (for you and me) I've made a timeline and posted that too. I hope that clears things up a bit. Thanks to those who wrote me, even those who complained that "it just seemed to stop." :) Anyway, please write more. The email address is at denis141@hotmail.com.
DEDICATION: This is for Lee. Happy Graduation!
DISCLAIMER: I don't know NSYNC, and this story is purely a work of fiction.
This story also contains male/male loving (and occasionally some smut). Thus, if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read this, you should stop reading now. Sorry.
ALONE/TOGETHER
CHAPTER 33: FAR, AND AWAY: Part two: What is New.
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
--Marcel Proust
The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change.
--Maya Angelou
One doesn't discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.
--Andre Gide
Lance had fallen asleep on the floor in front of the couch. JC was lying on top of him, his arms wrapped around Lance's neck, cradling his head as he slept too. The air in the room was warm, nearly hot, and it smelled of sweat and semen. In the midst of eating lunch, Lance had leaned across the table to kiss JC, a kiss that lingered long and then, like sun through a magnifying glass, concentrated and intensified, turning into heat itself and bursting like tinder into fire. In less than a minute they had stripped off their clothes and started to make long loud frantic love, skidding across the cool slick slate of the kitchen floor, into the adjacent living room, onto the couch then off again, grappling and grasping and groping and grabbing and gasping, each in turn in the other, with arched backs rising like sails in the wind, sweat like sea-spray in the air, the sound of each gasping laughing breath like a sudden gust of wind. They were new young lovers racing home through an unexpectedly warm summer storm, galloping and running and bounding and bouncing, trying to hard get there quickly, yes, right there. And when they reached it, nearly at the same time, this ecstatic exhilaration, this explosive excitement, this euphoric exaltation, they found themselves there together, slumping forward like sails suddenly without wind, relaxed limp exhausted and finally asleep.
When he woke up, JC knew that he was late without needing to look at his watch to know. It was ten past three and Aaron got out of school at three o'clock. Standing up, and running into the kitchen, he grabbed the first pair of pants he found and pulled them on. They were Lance's, and too big, but he didn't care. As JC pulled on his shirt, Lance walked into the room rubbing his eyes.
"What's going on?"
"I have to pick Aaron up from school," JC said, as his cinched Lance's belt tight enough to keep the pants from falling off. "I'm late."
"What time is it?"
"It's after three."
"Really?"
"Sweetie, I don't have time to chat. Okay?"
"Sorry."
"No, it's fine," JC said, giving Lance a quick kiss. "I'll be back soon."
"You were really hot by the way," Lance shouted after JC as he watched him run from the room.
"You weren't so bad yourself," JC shouted back, waving and laughing.
Lance smiled as he looked at the half-eaten lunch still on the table and the clothes scattered across the kitchen. He was 37 years old, and he'd be 38 in five months. But standing there he felt far fewer of those years and it made him smile even more.
Crouching, Lance reached under the table and retrieved a pair of boxer briefs and a sock. He found JC's pants under a chair, and a shirt in front of the refrigerator. Lance's boxer shorts had somehow ended up on the kitchen counter and his shoes were leaning against the dishwasher. Once he'd gathered everything up, Lance went upstairs and took a shower. The water felt good and hot and standing under the forceful spray Lance let his thoughts return to question of whether Aaron should be allowed in Ang's movie.
All morning long Lance had gone over it in his head, arguing with himself, trying to sort it out, making mental lists of all the pros and cons, and wondering if it might be best to simply tell Ang no, for Aaron, and then not tell Aaron at all. But he couldn't bring himself to do that, to deceive Aaron, and to deny him the opportunity to participate in the decision. At the same time, he knew that Aaron would want his permission, and need his support. But that was the problem; he not sure he could be supportive, not genuinely, or at least not enough. Supporting himself on the set was hard enough. And the idea of trying to be a good actor, and a good dad, all at the same time - it terrified him.
"I just want to be a good father," he had said to JC when he got to the point where he knew he had to talk about it. "And I'm just worried that I can't be a good father and a good actor at the same time. You know how whacked I get when I'm making a movie."
"Lance," JC had said, sighing impatiently. "I've said this so many times I think I should just make it into a sign. You don't give yourself enough credit, as a father or as an actor. And you're not giving Aaron much credit here either. It's just a movie. It's not going to wreck you or Aaron. And, maybe, just maybe, it'll be fun."
"Fun!" Lance had gasped.
"Lance - take a breath. Seriously. You are making things way harder, and way more serious, than necessary. I didn't say it was just about fun. I said that just maybe it could be fun, that is, if you let it."
"But Josh."
"No - listen. Aaron's going to take his cue from you, and if you start getting all freaky-deaky about this, like you are now, and before the shoot's even started, then he'll get freaked out too. I'm just saying it doesn't have to be like that."
"But what about his school?" Lance had said, changing the subject because he had known, or near-known, that JC was right. "He's not doing that stupid tutoring thing like we did. That's no way to get an education."
"I couldn't agree more. But I'm pretty sure Ang can work around his school schedule. Isn't he the one that's hot to have Aaron in the movie?"
"Yeah."
"So he'll deal with it. And probably happily so, because Ang is a nice man and he likes Aaron a lot."
"I suppose," Lance had said, the words leaking out of him in a slow hiss, and his shoulders slumping as if he was a deflating balloon. "But what if this all goes to his head? We obviously don't want him turning into some drugged-out mess like that whack-job Aaron Carter did."
"My god, Lance - listen to yourself!"
"What?" Lance had said, stepping back. "What?"
"I swear you drive me insane sometimes."
"What? I'm just worried, that's all."
"Well, I'm frigging worried about you. Aaron Carter? I mean, really."
"But you know what I mean."
"I most certainly don't. Aaron Carter! Puh-leeze. If you think for a second that I would ever allow our Aaron to be exploited by someone like that maniac stage-mom Liz Carter exploited her pathetic no-talent stuck-up little prick of a son, then shoot me now, because that is just never going to happen. Not while I'm alive!"
Hearing this, Lance had burst out laughing, suddenly entranced by the beauty and honesty and blatant good humor of the man he loved. JC was right about underestimating Aaron. He had also been right that it was his own fear and insecurity that was interfering with his ability to make the decision that was right for Aaron. Filled with a sudden ease and joy, Lance had at that moment leaned across the table to kiss JC and they had then made love. Now, as Lance turned off the water in the shower and slowly pushed his fingers through his wet hair, Lance knew what he needed to do. He needed to let Aaron decide for himself, and to offer him his unconditional support, whatever he decided.
Aaron had kicked off his shoes and socks and now stood barefoot in front of the counter in the kitchen downstairs. He was wearing baggy orange cargo shorts that hung low on his hips, and a white Nike t-shirt that was nearly too small for him because of the way it stretched tightly across his back and shoulders. It was ten past four and he had just got home from school. He was usually home by three-thirty but his dad had been late picking him up from school. Leaning over the counter, Aaron grabbed the jar of peanut butter he'd set there and opened it. He was making a peanut butter and banana sandwich, his favorite after-school snack. When he was done making it, Aaron laid the sandwich on a paper towel, poured a glass of milk, pulled a stool up to the counter, and then sat down. About to take a bite, he heard someone approaching from behind and turned around.
"Hey dad," he said, seeing JC.
"Man - that looks good," JC said, pointing at the sandwich.
"Want a bite?"
"Nah, that's okay."
"Cool," Aaron said, taking a bite so big nearly half the sandwich disappeared into his mouth.
"When you finish your sandwich, your dad wants to talk to you. He's upstairs."
"Okay," Aaron said, shrugging as he took another big bite. "Whah duh he wahn?"
"Aaron, don't talk with your mouth full."
"Sah-wee," Aaron said, swallowing and then smiling. "What does he want?"
"He wants to talk to you about something. That's all."
"Am I in trouble?"
"Nope. Not at all," JC said, patting Aaron on the upper arm.
"That's good," Aaron said, popping the last piece of sandwich into his mouth. "It sucks to get blasted for something you don't remember doing."
"I'll clean that up for you," JC said, pointing to the still open jar of peanut butter and the knife that was stuck into it.
"No, you don't have to," Aaron said. "It'll only take me a minute."
"Okay then," JC said, smiling. "I'm going to go out back for a while. Come out and chat later - if you want."
"It must be National-Talk-to-Aaron Day," he said, putting the jar of peanut butter away and wiping off the counter.
"Yeah, didn't anyone tell you?"
"I guess not," Aaron said. "Do I get gifts?"
"You're pressing your luck now," JC said.
"You can't blame a guy for trying," Aaron said, playfully bumping JC as he walked past JC and then out of the kitchen.
Lance was in his office, standing in front of the window, looking out. The sky was a hazy dimly-bright silver color, like the non-shiny side of aluminum foil. The door stood open, as it usually did, and when Aaron walked through it, he did so cautiously, as if unsure of what he might find inside. There was a small lamp on Lance's desk, and Aaron turned it on. As a little boy, he had loved to turn the lamp on and off, repeatedly tugging at the brass chain that hung down from inside the lampshade, doing this as he sat on Lance's lap and marveled at how something as simple as tugging on a little brass ball-chain could flood the room with light and then plunge it back into darkness. With room now brighter than before, brighter than the faint light outside, the window had become a mirror and Aaron could see his dad's reflection in it, and the concerned look on his face.
"Remember how you used to love to turn that lamp on and off?" Lance said as he turned around to look at Aaron.
"I was just thinking about that," Aaron said. "What'd I call it?"
"Blink the light. You'd say, 'Dad I want to blink the light' and we'd come in here and sit and you'd 'blink the light'."
"That's funny."
"Yeah," Lance said, smiling.
"So you wanted to talk to me?"
"I did," Lance said, picking something up off the desk. "And to give you this."
Aaron recognized the thin blue cloth-covered binder; he had seen it before, and he blushed seeing it again. He assumed that Lance had somehow found out about him taking it without permission, and reading it. Maybe he'd put it back in the bag upside down, or in a way that had alerted Lance to it having been taken. If he'd just asked to see it, Aaron was sure that Lance would have let him read it. Or maybe that was what he was doing now, letting him read it, without knowing that he'd already read part of it, and thus giving freely what he had mistakenly thought he had to sneak. Now Aaron felt even worse.
"Aren't you going to take it?" Lance asked, still holding the binder.
"Is that the script?" Aaron said, holding his hand out and taking it from his dad.
"Part of it," Lance said.
"I kind of looked at it a little already," Aaron said, bowing his head.
"No - that was the original script," Lance said. "The one you and James looked at when we went to Los Angeles. This is the shooting script. Ang rewrote it."
"I know," Aaron said. "Me and...I mean, I sort of snooped in your bag last night and, you know, read a little already. I'm sorry."
"Well, we can talk about that another time," Lance said, looking confused at first but then shaking it off. "I want to talk to you about something else right now."
"Okay," Aaron said, not sure whether to be relieved or not. "Like what?"
"The script is for you Aaron," Lance said. "Ang asked me to give it to you, and to tell you that he wants you to play Lucas Anakin Skywalker in the movie."
"Dad - that's not nice. Don't tease me."
"I'm not Aaron. It's true."
"For real?" Aaron said, his voice suddenly full of excitement. "I mean, really?"
"That's what Ang said," Lance said. "I talked to him about it this morning, for a long time actually, and he really wants you to be in it."
"This is crazy!" Aaron said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. "James is never go to believe this."
"Aaron, it's serious too," Lance said, his voice deepening slowly. "There's a lot to consider here, and I want you to think about it carefully before you decide."
"Dad, I just meant that it's crazy he wants me to do this," Aaron said. "That's all."
"All right," Lance said, nodding.
"You don't want me to do it, do you?"
"I'm not sure," Lance said. "I honestly don't know. I've been thinking about it all day, and I just don't know."
"Why?" Aaron asked, his voice beginning to tremble. "Do you think I can't do it, that I'll be really bad in it?"
"No - Aaron," Lance said, gently slapping his shoulder as he took a step closer to him. "I know you'd try your best. Just like you always do. But with movies, that doesn't mean it'll turn out how you hoped it would. It's like with a baseball game, just because you pitch really well, that doesn't mean you're going to win."
"Okay," Aaron said, his eyes still slightly downcast.
"I'll give you an even better example," Lance said, lightening his tone. "My first movie was a huge flop. It was called 'On the Line' and I had the lead role. When I was filming it, I was terrified, but excited too. I was convinced that it was going to be a big hit and that I'd be able to switch from singing to acting. Well, like I said, it didn't turn out anything like I'd hoped or expected."
"Were you sad?"
"I think I was more angry, mostly at myself, because I realized that I'd been naïve about the whole thing. Anyway, it was like three years before I got offered another lead role, and it was in 'The Ghost Road', the film I did for Ridley Scott."
"I want to see that someday."
"Maybe when you're a little older," Lance said, smoothing Aaron's hair from his forehead. "It's kind of gruesome, with all the violence in it, which is why I thought it would never be a big hit, but it was. Everyone loved it."
"And you won your first Academy Award."
"Yes I did," Lance said, smiling now. "But, for the life of me, I couldn't tell you how I did it. And that's the way it is with movies. There's just no way to know how it's going to turn out."
"Ang's movies always seem to turn out good."
"That's true. Because having a good director always helps. But it's still no guarantee. There's always a risk. Look at Foucault's Pendulum."
"I saw that," Aaron said quickly. "I thought you were good. And Mr. Bana too."
"Maybe," Lance said, frowning. "But the movie was a mess. Scorsese spent like two years cutting and re-cutting that film, then when it came out it still tanked."
"It was sort of hard to follow."
"Sort of? You needed a road-map."
"Anyway," Lance continued. "I just want you to understand that all you can do is do your best - try your hardest, and the rest, well...you just have to let it go. Or try to."
"You'll help me though, won't you?"
"See - that's the tough part Aaron. And it's why I've struggled with this."
"What do you mean?"
"Ang will be there to help you," Lance said, speaking slowly, his head bowed at first, but then looking at Aaron and putting his hand on the back of Aaron's neck. "That's his job. He's the director, and he'll be the one that guides you."
"I know, but you've done this before. I never have. I'll be scared."
"Aaron - listen to me, because this is important. If you really want to do this, I will support your decision with all my heart. I truly will. But when I'm on the set, when I'm in character, mostly I'll be concentrating on what I have to do, on doing my best. So there are going to be times, maybe lots of times, when it'll seem like I'm ignoring you, or not paying attention. It won't be because I don't care, or that I'm mad at you, or anything like that at all. It's just the way I work. Some people, some actors can click it on and off, but I can't. I wish I could, but I can't. So, if you decide you want to do this, you're going to need to be able to deal with that. Do you understand?"
"Sort of."
"I'm not sure I can explain it any better."
"No, that's okay," Aaron said, his eyes slightly squinted as he thought about what Lance had said. "It's just that it will be something different, something new. But I know you love me dad, so I understand."
"I do love you."
"I know."
"What do you think? Is this something you want to do?"
"Yes," Aaron said, his eyes wide and pleading. "If you'll let me."
"I will let you Aaron," Lance said, emphasizing each the word as a smile began to form on his face. "But I want you to talk to Josh about this too, okay?"
"Okay," Aaron said.
"And after you talk to him, you can call Ang and tell him what you decided."
"Thanks dad," Aaron said putting his arms around Lance and hugging him.
"You're welcome Aaron."
"You mean Lucas," Aaron said, laughing.
Aaron found JC outside by the pool. He was writing in his journal, something he often did outside at night. Hesitating, Aaron stood there for a little while, just watching his dad and the swift jerky movements of his hand as it scratched its way across the page. He could not make out the words, but Aaron wondered if he was writing about him being in the movie, about what they had maybe talked about, or agreed on. Or maybe it was the beginnings of a song he was working on. Aaron didn't know.
"Dad," Aaron said quietly.
"Oh Aaron," JC said, turning quickly around in his chair and putting down his pen. "What's up kiddo?"
"Look," Aaron said, holding up the script-binder for JC to see.
"I know what that is," JC said, smiling and standing up. "Are you excited?"
"Yeah, kind of," Aaron said, blushing slightly.
"I'm sure excited for you," JC said, walking over to where Aaron stood, and hugging him. "I think it's great."
"Actually, I'm not totally sure about it," Aaron said, looking up at JC, but making no effort to pull away from his embrace. "I think dad's feeling kind of weird about it. He said I should talk to you about it before I decide what to do."
"He said it was up to you - to decide?"
"Yeah. And he said he'd support whatever decision I make, but he wanted me to talk to you about it first too."
"It's a pretty big decision, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Are you scared?"
"Yeah. You know - about doing it, making a movie, because it isn't like anything I know much about, and I obviously never did it before."
"Okay."
"And, like dad said...I don't know, he sort of said that I shouldn't say yes unless it was something that I really wanted to do."
"Well is it?"
"I think so."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Well, I think it would be fun."
"Oooh - wrong answer."
"Why?" Aaron asked, frowning.
"Do you think having fun is reason enough to do it?"
"I don't know. I mean, it'd be exciting too. And I get to work with dad and all."
"Okay, listen to me for a sec because this is important," JC said, taking leaning slightly back so that he could look Aaron in the eyes. "Fun is good. And excitement is good. And working with your dad is good. But Ang didn't ask you to be in his movie just so you could have fun. He asked you to be in his movie because he thinks you're the best person to play this part."
"I guess that makes sense."
"But Aaron, do you think you're the best person to play this part?"
"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it."
"Do you think maybe you should?"
Aaron stood silent for a long moment, looking away from JC, and thinking. The wind was picking up and the evening air was beginning to turn cold. JC could hear the pages of his journal, which he had left open on the table, being blown and it sounded like the rustling of leaves. Looking back at JC, Aaron was startled by the loving look on his face; it always seemed to be there, but now he noticed it more than before. It was like a light that had just been turned on and it filled Aaron with warmth and courage.
"I need to finish reading the script," Aaron said. "And then I'll know."
It was nine o'clock, dinner had been over for almost two hours, and Aaron was in his room, lying on the bed. The script was open in front of him, propped up on a pillow as he finished reading it for the second time. He was on the last few pages, reading again the final scene of the first act, a scene in which Lucas Skywalker is looking for his father Jhon after having not found him in his office.
Lucas walks slowly down the long hall that led to the vast Senate Chamber, the place where all important galactic votes took place. He knew the Senate was not in session at night, but he also knew that his father sometimes went there to think and be alone. Lucas looks troubled. Suddenly Lucas senses something is wrong. We see the hall now through his eyes. He is cautiously searching, glancing into empty offices as he passes them.
There is an eerie silence to place, and it seems deserted. As he approaches a crossing corridor, Lucas stops suddenly. He hears something: faint whispers, like a far-off conversation, but he hears it more in his mind than with his ears. This has not happened before, the ability to hear something from so far away. Lucas looks puzzled but also intrigued.
Pressing himself against the wall, Lucas glides along it toward the corner and peers around it and down the other corridor. He sees two men standing a long distance. They are huddled close together, whispering.
Lucas does not see them clearly at first, because of the distance, but then he closes his eyes, as if to concentrate, and when he opens them again it is like he standing next to them. He sees them clearly now, and hears them clearly too. They argue.
One is Blake Antilles, his father's chief of staff, and a former Senator. He had also been his father's best friend as a child. They had grown up together here on Coruscant. The other man Lucas does not know, but he senses that there is something dark about him, and that he is powerfully dangerous. The man is Sepp Wolff, a general in New Republican Army. He is also the son of Spiden, who unknown to all but a few is the leader of the Dark Jedi. Sepp glances down the hall, directly toward Lucas, but he has already pulled his head back from where he was watching them.
Sepp smiles, although it seems like more of a scowl, and his dark eye-brows arch and his brow wrinkles. There is fear in Blake's eyes, but something more too: he is waiting for something. Slowly raising his right hand in the air, Sepp wraps his fingers around Blake's throat and lightly squeezes. Blake's eyes widen, but his expression does not change. In fact, he seems slowly to relax; his shoulders slump forward and his eyes close. Sepp leans forward and kisses Blake, a savage kiss that he greedily accepts. Lucas is watching them again, and we see the kiss through his eyes until he once more pulls back and then quickly glides away.
In an overhead shot, we see Sepp slowly pull back from kissing Blake, licking his lips as a wicked smile forms on his face.
SEPP: The boy knows.
BLAKE: What boy?
SEPP (slowly): Lucas...Anakin...Skywalker. The majority leader's son.
BLAKE: There is never anyone here so late at night.
SEPP: We are here.
BLAKE: True. But the boy, how do you know he was here?
SEPP: Oh - I know. Just as I know it is through him that we will get to his father, get to him and destroy him. And then, my love, it is you who will rule.
Aaron closed the script and sat up, crossing his legs beneath him. It was now ten after nine and he still needed to call Ang, needed to call him and tell him that he wanted to be in his movie because he was the best person to play the part.
James burst through the front door and ran up the stairs two at a time. His mother had just dropped him off at Aaron's house and he was frantic to tell him his news. When he got to Aaron's room, the door was open but there was no one inside. Running down the hall toward the kitchen, James nearly collided with JC who had just walked out of his room and into the hall. He stopped short as JC grabbed his arm.
"Where's the fire?" JC asked, still holding onto James' arm.
"Sorry JC," James said, panting and out of breath. "Do you know where Aaron is? I've got to tell him something real important."
"Yeah?" JC said.
"Yeah - I get to...um, wait," James said, interrupting himself. "I kind of want to tell Aaron first."
"That's okay," JC said, letting go of James' arm and winking at him. "I kind of already know."
"Oh yeah," James said, blushing.
"And I'm glad you get to go."
"Thanks! I'm really excited."
"I think Aaron is downstairs in the big guest room. He's sort of taken it over."
"How come?"
"Oh - you'll see," JC said, patting James on the shoulder.
"Cool," James said, turning around and heading down the hall toward the stairs.
James found Aaron in the big guest room, just as JC had said. He was laying on his stomach, diagonally across the bed, his knees bent, and his bare feet swinging slowly back and forth in the air, like someone would treading water. Standing in the doorway, James could not see what Aaron was doing. He looked as if he was studying something, like maybe history or math. Final exams were less than two weeks away, right before the long winter break. But it didn't look like he was studying anything from school.
There were three large pieces of paper pinned to the wall. Two were blank but one had names scrawled on it in big black letters. A photo was taped next to each name. Most of the photos looked like they were torn from a magazine. James recognized two. One was Colin Farrell, and next to his photo was written SEPP WOLFF. The other was Brendan Fehr, and next to his photo was the name BLAKE ANTILLES. James didn't know the people in the other photos, but he read the hand-written names: SENATOR RIBBENTROP, SPIDEN, BAYREUTH STYGIAN, LANA SOLO.
"What is all this stuff?" James finally asked.
"Hey!" Aaron shouted, jumping off the bed and smiling at James. "When did you get here?"
"Like five minutes ago," James said, still looking puzzled. "I went up stairs, but your dad said you were down here."
"So what's going on?" Aaron asked. "You said you had wicked good news."
"Totally - but what's all this?"
"No, tell me your news first," Aaron said, insisting.
"Okay," James said, frowning as he continued to wonder what Aaron was up to, but then smiling broadly as he remembered what he had come to tell him. "Get this. My mom picked me up from school yesterday, and then we went out and got food for like an early dinner, because she didn't have to work last night. And we went to the movies."
"Yeah?" Aaron said, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet.
"Yeah. And you'll never guess what she told me."
"What?"
"Well...." James said, intentionally drawing it out.
"James, you're killing me here," Aaron said, lightly punching him in the chest.
"Okay, sorry," James said, grinning. "She said I can go to Australia."
"Shut - up!" Aaron said, his mouth dropping open. "No - way!"
"Way," James said, laughing. "Way, way - way!"
"That is so cool," Aaron said, bobbing head as if to emphasize each word.
"Totally," James said. "Your dad talked to her and then she thought about it and everything and she decided that it would be really cool for me to go."
"That is so cool," Aaron said again.
"I'm really excited."
"Me too."
"But you totally have to learn to surf now."
"Aaron - there are huge sharks in Australia."
"You're such a wienie," Aaron said, laughing. "Besides, what shark would want to eat a scrawny thing like you."
"True."
"So you want to hear my news?" Aaron asked.
"Maybe tomorrow," James said, his face expressionless as he turned around to leave the room.
"James!" Aaron yelled, grabbing him and spinning him around.
"Kidding!" James said, laughing.
"Dork!"
"Yeah, so anyway - tell me, because I wan to know what all this stuff is too."
"Well, that's the deal," Aaron said, pointing to the piece of paper with writing on it. "Those are all characters in Episode 7, and the pictures are like the actors that are going to play those characters."
"Cool," James said. "So what's your news."
Aaron picked up a big black magic marker and walked over to the sheet of paper hanging on the wall. Pulling the cap off the marker, he wrote in big black letters: LUCAS ANAKIN SKYWALKER. When he was done, he put the cap back on the marker and took a small step back from the wall.
"That's another character in the movie," Aaron said, smiling.
"I know. Remember, we read that first scene in the script."
"Well, imagine my picture right there," Aaron said, pointing to the blank space next to where he'd just written the character's name.
"That'd be cool," James said. "But who's going to play him?"
"That's my news," Aaron said, beginning to bounce again. "Me!"
"What?" James said, quietly, the shock apparent on his face.
"Me! Ang asked me."
James stood silently staring at Aaron, his mouth slowly dropping open. He looked dumbfounded, and his head moved slowly from side to side as he tried to think, tried to comprehend what Aaron had just said, its implications, what it meant, for him, and for Aaron. He felt dumbstruck, numb, and suddenly afraid; he wanted to flee but he didn't know why. He didn't know what to say or do either.
"What's wrong?" Aaron asked, his voice wavering and confused. "James?"
"If you get famous," James began, speaking slowly, tentatively, softly. "If you get famous, will you still be my friend?"
"Oh my god - James."
"But will you? Because I'm like someone who's so totally not famous."
"James -shut up," Aaron said. "You're my best friend, my best friend in the whole world, and being in a stupid movie is not going to change that. I mean, wow, if I thought there was any chance of that happening I would so not be in it."
"Seriously?"
"I am so serious dude."
"I guess I knew that," James said, quietly, bowing his head as if ashamed. "I guess it was just that it sort of scared me, you know, thinking that you might turn into this big movie star or something and think I was all boring and stuff."
"That just isn't going to happen," Aaron said, squeezing James' shoulder and then continuing to hold it. "Besides, you should hear all the talks my dad's been giving me about not letting this go to my head, and how I still need to get good grades, and the piano lessons aren't going to stop, and no I don't get an agent, and on and on and on."
"For real?"
"Oh - man, it is so real," Aaron said, laughing. "But there is this something I was kind of hoping you might help me with."
"Me?"
"Yeah - you," Aaron said. "Ang said since I'm not having a tutor I could have an assistant, like if I want."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and you get paid too."
"No way."
"Totally," Aaron said. "But my dad says it goes straight into the bank for college so we can't like spend it on video games and stuff."
"That's cool."
"So will you help me?"
"For sure I will."
They had the first class cabin to themselves. Justin was asleep, snoring softly as he laid on his back with Cameron sprawled on top of him, asleep too. Melanie was lying across the aisle from him, on her side with her arms curled around Connor, who finally had fallen asleep two hours ago. JC had climbed in with Lance and they were stretched out next to each other, arms and legs intertwined, with JC's head nestled firmly under Lance's chin. James and Aaron were sleeping across the aisle from each other, in the foremost sleeper-seats. The cabin lights had been dimmed and the only light was what leaked in at the bottom edge of the shuttered windows.
Sighing softly, and then stretching his arms in the air above him, Aaron's eyes blinked slowly open and he yawned. They were scheduled to arrive in the early afternoon of the day after they had left. The time change had been puzzling at first. He and James had spent over an hour on the internet trying to figure it out. It seemed odd to them that you could lose a day flying to Australia, and then gain it back upon your return home.
Sitting up and looking around the cabin, Aaron stretched his arms again and swung his feet to the floor and stood up. He had to use the bathroom and he wanted to brush his teeth, which felt grimy even though a faint taste of champagne seemed still to linger there from the single small glass of it his dad had allowed him to toast their departure. They were flying on a Boeing 777 ER, and its two huge engines filled the cabin with white noise, a high-pitched whining purring sound that was reassuring and steady, like a lullaby.
Aaron stepped into the galley after he was done in the bathroom. He held his dopp kit in his right hand and it was slightly wet on the bottom from where it had sat on the counter next to the sink. Taking a small bottle of water from an ice bin, Aaron turned and looked out of the small window in the middle of the plane's aft-door. His mouth dropped open and he smiled as he then walked quickly and quietly back into the cabin and crouched down next to where James was asleep.
"James," he whispered. "Wake up."
"What's going on?" James mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he turned and looked at Aaron. "Is something wrong?"
"No - nothing's wrong," Aaron said. "I just want to show you something."
"But I was asleep," James said, grumpily.
"Just get up," Aaron said, tugging his arm.
James pulled the blanket off his legs and slowly stood up. Aaron then took him by the arm and led him back into the galley where he had stood moments before. He pointed at the window in the door.
"Look outside," Aaron said, excitement rising in his voice.
James stepped up to the door, but he wasn't quite tall enough to see outside.
"Here," Aaron said, taking James by the waist and lifting him up so he could see.
The plane was banking slightly right in a long gentle turn. James put his hands on each side of the window, steadying himself and his view outside. His eyes were squinted as he looked outside. Then a broad smile formed on his face.
"Is that really it?" James said, looking down at Aaron, who was at the same time staring up at him. "Australia?"
"Yeah," Aaron said, gently lowering James back to the floor, and draping his arm around him. "We're almost there."