Lorenzo Masters has a dream--to be the first person in his family to graduate from college. At fifteen, he is already well on his way with a full ride academic scholarship to Clearwater University, but little does the freshman know he is about to get an education in life, love, and growing up. Morgan Everett on the other hand takes his academics very lightly, as do the other guys of House Orison, but everything changes when they find themselves the unexpected caretakers of an adorable and impressionable Lore. From mentorship to romance, each member of House Orison finds a way to deal with their newfound freshman fifteen.
Lore doesn't know what to expect on his first day at Clearwater University, but the last thing he expected was to be run out of House Orison by a sword wielding kendo master! With betrayal at the hands of a cowboy, defended by an overprotective male mommy figure, scouted by the neighborhood coach, and the promise of brotherly love by a mysterious college student, Lore Masters doesn't think things could get any more complicated. Unfortunately, when bullies from his old high school show up and resume their torment, it is up to House Orison to find a missing Lore before an unfortunate event repeats itself at Clearwater University.
DISCLAIMER
The following story is completely fictitious and any resemblances to persons living or dead are entirely coincidental. Just as in life, this story contains graphic scenes of love and hate, life and death, joy and sorrow, as well as sexually explicit scenes which may involve minors. If it is unlawful for you to view such media, or such material makes you feel uncomfortable, then please read no further than this warning.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I would appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer me, but anything that lacks any form of redirection or remedy will be ignored. Also, anyone commenting on how I need to make things hotter and steamier between certain characters will be equally ignored. The sexual content of my stories, while present, does not make up the majority of the storytelling. Send legitimate questions or comments to: faretheeforeverwell@yahoo.com.
FRESHMAN FIFTEEN!? -- EPISODE ONE
"I got in." Lorenzo Masters told his mother as they both lay peacefully on the quiet hill overlooking a stretch of country land outlined by the trees of the surrounding woods. It was the same unchanging land the Masters family had looked after for over five generations, and someday it would be Lore's turn to watch over it. "I know what you are going to say, `fifteen is too young to be going off to college,' but this is something I have to do mom. You gave up so much for me, to raise me and take care of me, and I know it was your dream to graduate from college..."
The boy closed his eyes as a playful breeze whipped at his platinum blond hair as he lay in the soft grass; the smell of nature and life carried on the wind.
"Nana and I have been talking about it," he continued, "and even she agrees a full ride scholarship is too good of a deal to pass up. It's even to Clearwater, the school you went to attend back before..."
Lore let his thoughts trail for a bit before he got up the courage to confront his mother. He opened his eyes, a radiant blue that almost mirrored the clear country sky above him. He spoke his peace.
"Listen mom, you always looked out for me and put me first, but now it is my turn to do something for you. I am going to go to Clearwater and make something of myself. You don't need to worry about anything; I am going to be okay. The headmaster seems like a really nice guy--sort of reminds me of Nana. He set me up at one of the off-campus houses instead of sticking me in a dorm, so I am going to be surrounded by more responsible people. You don't have to worry about money either, all of my tuition and books have been paid for, and I've already got a job lined up at the school working at the campus store to earn a little extra money."
Lore slowly got to his feet, rising to his full five foot height. A hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, he was on the small side for fifteen and was often mistaken as being much younger than he actually was. Having inherited his mother's simple beauty, graceful form, and strong work ethic, he was a rarity indeed. Another playful gust of wind caused his unkempt blond locks to dance in the wind; like an earthly mother running her fingers through her son's hair.
"Remember what you always told me?" he asked as he turned to face his mother. "Whenever I used to complain about you doing too much for me, you always told me `I can rest when I am in my grave.'"
Lore bent down, a delicate hand gently touching the sun-warmed stone tablet of his mother's headstone.
"It's just..." he began as he absentmindedly traced the etching of `Gail Masters, Loving Daughter and Devoted Mother' with his finger, "it seems like since you left me and Nana you haven't been resting so soundly. I know you have been worried about me, about school, about... things, but I am going to fix all of it. I am going to make it so you don't have to worry and you can finally rest.
Standing back up, Lore made his way carefully down the hill that served as his mother's final resting place. It had been their spot; their secret place where they would go to watch the stars in the night sky or to feel the warm summer breeze in their hair. It was a place of loving memories, a place Lore often visited when he was troubled by things in his life. It had been three years, but still he missed her comforting touch, or the way she used to hold his head in her lap and lull him gently to sleep.
Reaching the bottom of the hill, he turned back one last time.
"Rest." He quietly whispered as his words were carried away by the wind. "Now it's my turn to do something for you."
"You wanted to see me, boss?" Prof. Ryan Malcolm said as he entered the headmaster's office, the scent of books and preserved wisdom hanging in the air like thick perfume.
The old man's office was large, but wasn't fancy; its walls taken over with row upon unimaginable row of books weathered and worn from reading. Light from the large bay windows that stretched from floor to high ceiling illuminated the office in a friendly and natural glow. Its light revealed trinkets on pedestals; artifacts from a lifetime of learning still sometimes handled as if to glean some unseen tidbit of knowledge. At the center of the office, outlined in a gentle light at his oaken desk, sat the old man; the boss, Headmaster James Hodges.
"Ryan, please." The man said with a grin, motioning for the younger instructor to take a seat. "I was just going over some paperwork and I wanted to make you aware of a few special circumstances for the up-coming term."
Prof. Malcolm took a seat in a rather comfortable old chair, yet, he grimaced.
"Not to be a spoil sport or anything, old man," he joshed, "but why is it that your `special circumstances' always seem to cause me a headache?"
"Well," Hodges countered, "I know you are always more than capable of fulfilling the needs of the campus and its students, which is why I enjoy giving you a challenge from time to time."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Malcolm replied. "Alright, what is it this time? Hang gliding while bird watching for the Bio 2 students? Business majors get to set up lemonade stands in the quad? Wait... we aren't going to teach our calculus students how to count cards... are we?"
"No," the old man pondered a bit, "but those are all very good ideas. I will have to take them under advisement. The special circumstance I have in mind actually has to do with the recipient of our academic scholarship."
"Oh?" Prof. Malcolm asked. "I wasn't aware we had awarded it this year."
The Clearwater University academic scholarship was not always awarded each and every year, as only one student could be on the academic scholarship at any given time, and only students that possessed exceptional grades and a strong work ethic were even considered. Ultimately, the headmaster had the final say as to whether or not the academic scholarship was awarded and to whom, so it was always a surprise for the faculty and student body to discover who had received the award.
"Yes," Hodges confirmed, "I almost didn't award it this year, until I got this application..."
The Headmaster slid a small manila folder towards Malcolm. Taking it from the desk, he read the name marked on the filing tab of the folder. Lorenzo A. Masters.' Opening the folder, he saw a hand written essay and a photograph of a calmly young boy smiling with two women flanking him. One was much older with a kind smile, a plump figure, and graying hair. The other woman had the same almost white blonde hair as her son, but her eyes were a deep brown; a sharp contrast to the boy's enchanting blue eyes. Flipping the picture over, Professor Malcolm read the back, Nana, Gail, and Lore;' it was dated a little over three years ago.
"I don't understand, sir." Professor Malcolm said. "This almost looks like a kid received the academic scholarship; like a child-kid."
James Hodges just smiled a bit.
"His name is Lore Masters, and he is fifteen. He graduated high school at the top of his class and has an amazing capacity for learning. His dream, which was also the dream of his late mother, is to be the first person in his family to graduate from college and he has chosen our school to be his home for the next four years; that is if it takes him that long. Also, you should know, his mother once attended our school briefly. I know it was before your time with us, but I believe you have heard about the incident almost sixteen years ago that prompted us to institute mandatory patrols of the campus at night?"
Professor Malcolm paused for a moment, recalling the incident.
"Yes, it involved a freshman girl and an upper classman. If I am not mistaken it was because he..." Prof. Malcolm made a sudden connection. "She was the one, the one who was... and that means Lore Masters is..."
"Yes," Hodges said with a bit of sympathetic sadness in his eyes, "but this does not need to leave my office. I have made other arrangements for the boy as well. He has requested employment on campus in order to earn any extra money that he might need, so I have spoken with Warren Wallace and arranged to have the boy help out at the campus general store while he attends classes here."
Professor Malcolm cringed a bit.
"Warren Wallace?" he said as if something distasteful had wandered into his mouth, "Don't you think it a little unwise to expose anyone, let alone a young boy, to Warren? He is just... evil. Every time I look at the guy, it is like he is planning something, plotting... it's very disconcerting, and don't even get me started on the accent..."
"Well, while I know Mr. Wallace has his quirks," Hodges continued, "it would be difficult for Lore Masters not to be exposed to him, since he will be staying at House Orison while he attends classes at Clearwater."
There was a dead silence in the room.
"House Orison?" Malcolm asked as calmly as he could muster.
"House Orison." Hodges confirmed, enjoying the turmoil he was imposing on the normally composed instructor. "I feel it would be unwise to place Mr. Masters in the freshmen dorms, given the circumstances of his enrollment, his academic pursuits, as well as his age. A more `brotherly' environment is just what a growing boy needs to fill in the gaps simple book study cannot. Besides, House Orison is one of the only off-campus housing units with an available room. I would also like you to note the inherent connection Mr. Masters has to House Orison, and for you to remind those young men of the origins of their House's founding... and how very disappointed I would be if Lore Masters felt anything but a welcoming sense of brotherly love in their presence."
Professor Malcolm made a mental note and attempted to collect himself.
"You really do enjoy doing this to me, don't you?" he asked the headmaster. "Alright, I will make the arrangements for his housing as well as inform Warren and the others of the... unique circumstances involved."
"I knew I could count on you," Hodges smiled, "but don't spoil all of the fun. All you have to tell those boys is that they are about to receive a great honor in that the son of Gail Masters has come to Clearwater University to be the captain of the sixth squad of House Orison. We will see if they can put two and two together."
"Yes, sir." Malcolm said with some resignation as he made a few more mental notes.
Ryan Malcolm, English professor at Clearwater University and academic advisor for House Orison, suddenly felt like he was going to be in for a very long term.
The campus was expansive, much more so then the brochure had described, and Lore Masters found himself enthralled by the way the entire school seemed to blend into the trees of the forested land around it. As a country boy, he felt right at home. He was equally surprised to find the city of Clearwater a much more populous place than he had imagined a college town to be. He had pictured rows upon rows of bars, but what he found was something akin to the town near his family's land. It was small, but seemed busy in a way.
As he walked along the sidewalk, making his way to his off-campus housing, he adjusted the large duffle-bag once more, silently scolding himself for deciding to walk from the campus with all of his possessions in tow. Despite the discomfort from the oversized bag he felt light as a feather. He was here--he was finally here--and everything was going to be just fine.
Clink.
"Heads up!" a quick shout caught Lore's attention as he turned and ducked a baseball just in time, the small projectile whooshing over his head.
The source of the shout was a boy of ten or so who was staring wide-eyed at Lore with a baseball bat half-resting on the ground. He appeared unsure if he should run, hide, or laugh. Around him were several other kids ranging in age from nine to twelve, each one equally unsure and crowded around a central figure. As if summoned by some unholy rite, the central figure rose up from the obstruction of neighborhood kids.
"Riiiiillleeey!?" the young man shouted, the boy with the bat becoming visibly tense at the sound of his name being called out; his black hair almost standing on end, before his torpid attitude once again manifested. The boy slowly turned to face his doom with apathetic blue eyes, as if prolonging the act would somehow save him.
"Yea?" Riley asked in an uncommitted voice Lore could barely hear from the twenty or so feet that separated him and the group of kids.
"Where's the ball, Riley?" the young man asked again, his amber eyes reflecting more pent-up frustration then the incident would warrant.
Lore assumed this was a pattern with the boy.
"Over there, Coach Chase." The boy said as he pointed over towards where Lore was standing.
"Why is the ball over there, Riley?" Chase asked as his voice somewhat faltered while trying to contain his building rage.
"Because I hit it over there, Coach Chase." The boy replied simply, his finger still pointing towards Lore.
"Well, I know the ball CAN'T be over there because you HIT it, Riley..." the coach said as he ran a gloved hand through his short brown hair, "... and do you know HOW I know that?"
There was a moment of silence.
"But I did..." Riley began before being interrupted.
"You couldn't have possibly hit the ball over there because I told... no... I WARNED you NOT TO HIT THE BALL!" Chase yelled at the boy as the rest of the children gathered in the group hid their laughter.
After the loud exchange in the streets of the quiet neighborhood, Chase let out a deep and long sigh, having fully vented his frustrations. Chase appeared to be in his late teens, and from what Lore could tell he seemed to be in pretty good shape, lithe and toned as opposed to overly bulky and muscled. His short brown hair was still slightly erratic, standing an odd angles due to running his hand through his hair moments before, and his almost bright amber eyes seemed to possess the energy of youth that college life had yet to sap out of him; however Riley was doing a good enough job of that.
Another moment of silence passed.
"Laps, Coach Chase?" Riley asked.
Lore was positive this was a pattern; one fully embraced by mentor and pupil alike.
"No," Chase said, having fully collected himself, "fetch the ball, Riley."
Without another word, Riley dropped the bat with a clank and began jogging towards Lore, who had been too transfixed by the exchange to move. As the boy passed him at a decent trot, he could see Riley smiling a bit to himself as he went to fetch the ball for his coach. The man patiently waited for the young boy to return, and Lore was quick to note as the boy returned facing his coach the silent grin had been replaced with a mask of defeat; this kid was good.
"Here you go, Coach Chase." Riley said as he handed Chase the ball.
"Thank you, Riley." He said before pausing to think a moment, "Now the laps."
The boy groaned and half collapsed to the ground before picking himself up and began jogging towards the sidewalk to begin lapping the neighborhood.
"Hey, sorry about that." Chase shouted out towards Lore who had momentarily lost himself in following the young boy as he rounded the first corner.
"Oh," Lore replied as he was brought into the present, "no harm; no foul."
Chase smiled at Lore as the young teen waved and carried on his way towards his housing. Taking a quick look back, he saw Chase turn back towards his group of young all-stars as he began once again coaching them. Lore thought that was kind of nice, the way their coach treated them sort of like a big brother would his little brothers. He wondered if he had a big brother if that is what he would be like.
He walked only a few more houses down before he came to House Orison. The house was much larger than he had originally thought and he saw it had a large fence enclosing the sides and backyard area. It was an older house with large windows on the first floor and what looked like an observatory level at the very top. As he made his way up the steps of the house he noticed a plaque wherein was etched `House Orison' as well as the house's founding date. He thought it was kind of cool the house was the same age as he was.
Reaching awkwardly into his pocket to fish out his key, he looked up to the front door where upon was carved a large purple triangle hung upside-down. Thinking that was a funny carving, Lore gave it little thought as he finally got his key out and opened the door, slowing moving inside. Once he got inside, he closed the door behind him.
"Hello?" Lore called into the house to make his presence known.
With no reply, Lore assumed the other residents were out at the moment.
The inside of the house was a little messier than the outside, but it looked lived in, not sloppy. He set his duffle-bag down on the floor, thankful to be free of its weight. Deciding that since no one was home he would take a look around, Lore moved around the living room and noticed several pictures on the wall. Each picture was dated from the founding of House Orison, and each contained a group of six people; assumedly that year's residents of House Orison. There were only fourteen pictures posted, but the last seemed to be of a group of guys chilling around the living room couch.
They looked more like brothers then like roommates.
Crash!
Lore was instantly torn from the picture by the sound of one of the front windows of the house shattering, the baseball rolling to a gentle stop at Lore's foot. The ball, on its journey to Lore's foot had also bounced off of a wall, knocked over a pile of magazines, and cracked the screen of the living room's television set. Leaning back to look out the broken window, he could see Chase in the distance as he stared in disbelief as Riley shoved the bat into a nearby kid's hands before booking it down the street; theoretically to get a head start while his coach was dazed.
Lore bent down slowly and retrieved the ball at his feet and held it up to the light. He was also slightly in disbelief that such a small little thing could be responsible for so much trouble and cause so much damage.
"You..." the chilling voice said as Lore pulled a `Riley' and slowly turned towards the source of that haunting word, dropping the ball to the ground with a couple light thuds.
Standing at the doorway that separated the living room from the hallway stood a young man. He was dressed completely in a black martial artist uniform which matched his long black hair, tied back into a ponytail, as well as his cold black eyes. Lore could feel a fury in those eyes that made Chase's explosion at Riley look like a temper-tantrum. Even through the rage, Lore could see he was handsome and he was quick to note, like Chase, he possessed a lithe and agile frame. The young man held a practice sword in his hand that seemed to tremble with his anger.
Lore was a fairly smart kid; he had to be in order to jump almost four grades to graduate high school at the age of fourteen, but he wasn't a prodigy super genius. He just did the homework and applied himself. However, he did deduce a simple equation to sum up the entire situation that was presenting itself here and now.
1 + 1 = run
"You damn kids!" the man shouted as he leapt for Lore with surprising speed and agility, easily clearing the loveseat, but missing a blow with his kendo stick to Lore's back by mere centimeters. "I swear, when I finally get my hands on you...!"
The man attacked again and again, each time barely missing Lore as the teen desperately made his way around the room, chased by the relentless martial artist. It was on his second trip around the living room that Lore ran square into a husky young man, which knocked Lore to his feet. Looking up at the man, he was suddenly met with kind green eyes, wavy red hair, and the smell of cookies. The man looked down at the small boy as Lore looked up, pleading for help.
"Got you now!" the swordsman yelled as he brought the kendo stick down with a satisfying smack. It took him a moment to realize he had missed his mark.
Lore found himself in a protective embrace, the husky young man having interposed himself between Lore and his attacker with a quickness that startled the boy. Lore could see the kendo stick had been blocked by the redhead's shoulder as he wrapped Lore in a gentle hug. Lore had no idea what was going on, but he was suddenly very thankful the redhead had showed up, but he doubted the kind figure would be able to stop the rampage of the violent martial artist.
"Run for it; I will hold him off as long as I can." The man whispered into the boy's ear before he pushed Lore from his embrace towards the stairs and turned on the dark figure, tackling him to the ground. Lore wasted no time and used the momentum to begin running up the steps.
"Damnit Ian, get off me, he is getting away!" the dark figure yelled as he vainly struggled to get out of the redheads embrace. The young man had securely wrapped himself around the kendo stick wielding martial artist's waist.
"No Artisan! I won't!"Ian cried as Artisan tried once more to get to his feet to pursue, "He's too cute! You can't hurt him!"
With the martial artist, Artisan, held in place by the kind redhead, Ian, Lore made his way quickly to the top of the steps. He looked around to see if he had an avenue of escape, but finding no immediate prospects, he ducked into the nearest room and slammed the door shut. Sliding down to the floor with his back turned to the door, his eyes closed, he breathed heavily from the exertion and the excitement.
Mother in Heaven, he thought to himself, please help me.
"Howdy, son." The voice spooked Lore. "You look like you're in a mess of trouble."
The man was lying on his bed, apparently having been taking a nap, his boots crossed over one another as his cowboy hat lazily covered his eyes. He had a bit of a smug smile on his face. Tipping his hat up with a single finger, his blue eyes seemed to be judging the boy as he quietly trembled on the floor of his room. Letting out a quiet sigh, the man slowly sat up and moved so he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He was handsome in a rugged way, and the imagery immediately conjured in Lore's mind every story he had ever heard about cowboys.
"I suppose I could lend a hand, if ya want?" he asked the boy before him.
Before Lore could reply, a sudden impact to the door jolted him. Artisan had managed to free himself from Ian's embrace.
"Looks like ya got two options," the man explained as the door knob began to rattle with frustration, having locked when Lore slammed it shut, "ya can either stay here and take what's coming to ya like a man, or ya can do the smart thing and duck like hell out that there window."
The cowboy motioned with a thumb towards an open window, past which Lore could see a roof and a relatively short drop. With another sudden impact on the door, this time cracking the frame, he didn't need to mull over the decision any more.
"Scat." The cowboy encouraged as Lore bolted for the window just as the door impacted a second time as it nearly came off its hinges.
"Warren!" Artisan's voice carried through the room and beyond as Lore slipped through the window and onto the roof. "You're an ass-hole, Warren! How dare you help one of Chase's treacherous neighborhood rats, especially after he infiltrated our house!"
Lore could hear Warren the cowboy scoff.
"I'm not the one busting up the house, Art." Warren countered loudly as Lore made the final decent to the back yard and safely out of harm's way, "Besides, he's not in here. He's in the backyard."
Lore paused before turning towards the window he had just climbed out of. The cowboy had just sold him out to the crazy martial artist. As if in answer to his silent disbelief, Warren stuck his head out the window with a friendly smile.
"Sorry, kid." Warren called out from the window with a chuckle. "But ya did break and enter. At least yawl got a head start!"
Lore could hear quick and loud footsteps coming down the stairs. He didn't need to be told anymore and he didn't need to think twice. He just ran; he ran as fast as he could through the back yard towards the gate and bolted once it was unlatched. He ran towards the town and didn't look back. Warren watched as the kid made tracks; obviously Chase's coaching was paying off. As he saw Artisan bolt out the backdoor, only to cease his pursuit now that the boy had been properly scared away, probably never to return, he smiled a bit to himself.
As Lore ran down the street towards town, he passed by Chase who had just apprehended Riley as he was fleeing the scene of the crime. Both stopped their struggling against one another as they watched the kid blaze a steady trail.
"Damn," Riley said as they watched him become a dot in the distance, "wonder what got into him?"
"Not sure," Chase replied, "but I wonder if he has a glove?"
As Warren Wallace made his way down the stairs to assess the damage to the house from the blond kid's stray ball and Artisan's unsuccessful attempt at neighborhood justice, he paused with hat in mid-fan. A carefully trained eye for detail fell upon an abandoned duffle-bag near the door of his humble abode, and Warren, being the shrewd business major he was, decided to investigate this possible acquisition of resources. Keeping a careful eye on a brooding Artisan and carefully cleaning Ian, he unzipped the bag to reveal its contents.
His immediate impression was clothing, and a lot of it; socks, shirts, pants, underwear. There were a few other items carefully tucked in the duffle secured by the soft garments to prevent damage, but the thing that caught his eye was the framed photograph. It was of the boy he had seen in his room only a few minutes before, but it was the second woman, the younger of the two, that had caught his immediate attention. As he looked at her, he immediately recalled a photograph of a different sort, and felt the pangs of regret and not seeing the similarities between mother and son before.
"I hope the tradition is still alive." Warren said quietly to himself as he riffled through the duffle-bag and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts. Turning the garment around he checked the tag; luckily the kid had an old-fashioned grandma looking after him.
"Warren?" Ian asked as he finally noticed the gritty cowboy holding up a small pair of underwear, "what's that?"
"The blond runt that was just in here left his bag." Warren said simply.
"And you are going through his underwear!?" Ian cried in disgust in his overly dramatic way, "Warren Wallace, have you no shame?"
"Awe, pipe down, Mommy." Wallace shot back a little hurt that Ian would even think Warren a pervert, "I was just trying to figure out who he was, and I think I found my answer."
"Good." Artisan said as he immediately came out of his meditation, that same cold look in his eyes. "If we have a name, than we have a way of tracking him down and delivering unto him the punishment he so foolishly thought he could escape."
"Yep," Warren said cheekily, "Lorenzo Masters won't know what hit him."
There was a long and awkward pause.
Thankfully the silence was broken by Chase as he entered the house with Riley in tow.
"Hey guys," he said ignoring Ian and Artisan's stunned expressions, "Riley hit a ball through our front window and he has something he would like to say to everyone, don't you?"
"Sorry I broke your window," the boy said in monotone as he slowly scanned the room, "and your TV... and dented that wall... and knocked that stuff over... was that couch always knocked over or did my ball do that too?"
"Don't act proud, Riley," Chase cautioned, "remember, you have laps after this."
"Yeah, yeah... I know," Riley acknowledged in defeat, "I'm going to spend my entire weekend running laps, aren't I? A... Coach Chase?"
But Chase had keyed in that something was up with his housemates.
"What's up guys?" Chase asked as he momentarily let go of his hold on Riley, only to immediately regain it as the youth tried to make a hastily planned break for it.
"We might have done a bad thing..." Ian said cautiously. "...a very bad thing."
"Like what?" Chase asked.
"We might have unintentionally driven away our sixth man... at sword point." Ian said the last part as he did a very bad job subtly motioning towards Artisan. "I think he might have been running towards Main Street, so I suppose that would be the best place to start looking."
"Wait a second." Chase said. "I didn't see anyone run towards town... well except that kid we..."
Chase joined his brothers in a stunned silence; this time Riley was successful in slipping away.
"We have a winner, boys and girls." Warren said as he stood up with the photograph from Lore's duffle-bag and presented it to the other three. "Well, now. Ain't life just full of little surprises?"
A shadow had just fallen on House Orison; they had just driven away Gail Masters' son.
"Morgan is going to kill us." Chase said matter-of-factly, and no one argued.
Lore sat on the bench underneath the shade of a friendly tree as he cupped his face in his hands, his entire world in ruins and unsure of what to do. He had forgotten his duffle-bag back at the house, but couldn't go back to get it since he had been driven off by what he had now come to realize was the residents of House Orison. He thought the redhead, Ian, might be approachable, but with that angry swordsman and that dastardly cowboy, he was too nervous to go back there, and so he sat as mid-day turned into evening.
He just quietly wished he had something to eat, but his money was in his duffle.
Please, mother in Heaven, Lore silently prayed, help me.
"Hands." He heard a male voice say as he quickly looked up in surprise.
The voice belonged to a young man. Lore assumed he was a college student, and he was holding out his hand to Lore with it cupped upside-down, as if holding something for the youth to accept. The man had a kindness in his blue eyes; not pity, but rather sympathy, and Lore was inclined to trust them. A swift breeze rolled in, battering the two figures momentarily in a soft wind before fading, and Lore could see the young man's short brown hair billow in the wind.
Opening his hands as Lore had been requested; the young man placed in them a number of wrapped sweets. Upon closer inspection, Lore could see the young man had a small bag of the candies with a marker similar to one on a sign Lore had passed as he had wandered the town before making his final stand on the bench. Looking down at the gift, Lore saw they were root beer flavored candies. His mom used to get him root beer flavored candies.
"Not sure if you like that kind of stuff," the young man said as he took a seat on the bench next to Lore, "but I was really craving some today. Actually, I've been craving them ever since break started; a little bad habit of mine."
Lore quietly looked down at the candies as the young man continued to talk aimlessly as he himself took out a candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. Lore was thankful for the company, for the kindness, and even though he didn't know this person, he immediately felt at ease. He snuck a sideways glance at the young man, who had stopped talking momentarily to suck on the sweet, as he stared off into the distance on the bench.
"So," the young man continued, "I have to ask, what could be so depressing or troubling as to cause the look I saw on your face a minute ago? The only reason I ask, mind you, is because it looked awful serious, and sometimes we all need a little help dealing with our problems; especially the serious ones."
Lore took a deep breath as he contemplated his situation.
"You really want to know?" Lore asked as he poked at the candies in his hand, "Even if there is nothing you can do to help?"
"Of course," the young man replied, "I asked, didn't I? That means, no matter what the problem, even if it is something way bigger than I can handle, I have to see it through to the end. I may not have all the answers, and I might not even have the power or the right to help you solve your problem, but I will see you through anything if it will keep you from looking as troubled as you did a while ago. I've got a little brother back home, and even though he is a pain in the ass sometimes, I would do anything in the world to keep him from worrying or feeling down. What kind of human being would I be if I couldn't extend the same kindness to someone who looks like they could really use a friend?"
Lore was taken back a little by the words of the young man; he didn't think people like that existed in the world anymore, but here one was. With everything that had happened thus far today, Lore figured he could go for broke. Maybe the young man could help him get his duffle-bag or maybe even help smooth things over at House Orison, although he seriously doubted he was wanted or welcomed there anymore. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Lore explained the entire situation to the young man; his academic scholarship, his being a fifteen year old freshman, his assigned off-campus housing, and the baseball incident including a description of the residents of House Orison.
"I see, so that is the problem?" the young man said after a few moments, having patiently listened to Lore as he spoke, "Well, I can see why you would be concerned about going back for your duffle-bag, but honestly you need it no matter what if it has all your things and your money in it. Out of curiosity, if I went to your housing and explained the situation to them and got your duffle-bag, would you want to stay there, or would you rather go someplace else?"
It was an honest question, and Lore wasn't really sure. He had been excited to be assigned to an off-campus housing, but if he wasn't welcome there, he would probably get stuck in a dorm... unless. He looked up at the young man.
"Umm, if you don't mind me asking," Lore said a little nervously before dropping his eyes to the half finished candies in his hands, "a... I don't suppose I could spend the night at your housing? Just until I figured something out? I mean I completely understand if that is too much of an inconvenience and it wouldn't hurt my..."
A friendly hand landed on Lore's head, ruffling his blond hair, and silencing the boy.
"Tell you what," the young man said kindly, "if you like I will go and talk to the guys at House Orison and get your duffle-bag. Let's just see what they have to say for themselves first, and then we can see where you would like to stay, at least for tonight, okay?"
"Okay." Lore agreed.
The young man got up from the bench and dropped the bag with the last of the candies into Lore's lap. He stretched a bit from his lengthy sit, and Lore couldn't help but marvel at him. He looked strong, but he was kind; he seemed tough, yet sensitive. Lore hadn't wanted to say anything, but he felt good just having the young man sitting next to him, like his very presence was enough of a comfort to overshadow the entire day's series of disappointments. He didn't know why, but Lore felt warmth throughout his entire body.
"Okay, buddy," the young man said addressing Lore, "here is the plan. I'm going to go talk to the guys at House Orison and see what's up. You can either come with me or wait here for me to get back, it's up to you. Either way, I will get your duffle-bag and you can decide if you want to stay in your room at House Orison or if you would rather bunk with me for the night until you can figure something else out. So what will it be?"
Lore wanted to stay with the young man, but he really didn't want to have to face the sword wielding crazy man at House Orison anytime soon.
"I think I will just wait here." Lore said sheepishly.
"Alright, you just hold up tight here, and I should be back before it starts to get too dark, okay?" the young man asked.
"Okay." Lore smiled, "And, hey... thanks, for everything."
The young man just smiled in what Lore hoped was the same smile he might give his little brother.
"Anytime, little bro." He said as he ruffled Lore's hair once more before making his way towards the off-campus housing.
Lore was feeling much better than he had before, and he was a little giddy. He had been called `little bro' by the mysterious young man. Lore suddenly realized, after being put at ease by the young man and talking with him, he didn't even know his name. Sure, he had told the young man who he was, but his name never came up. As he watched the young man disappear into the distance as the light of day slowly ebbed away, he couldn't help but feel a loss.
"I'll wait right here, big brother." Lore said as he absentmindedly picked out another root beer candy.
It had been almost twenty minutes, and Lore was still waiting on the bench. He had figured it would take the young man some time to get to House Orison and explain the situation, but it was getting darker and Lore was starting to get a little worried. He wasn't exactly dressed warmly, and it wasn't exactly freezing, but a chill air was now blowing. Lore couldn't help but think back to his mother, and that night... she had been alone too.
The sound of male voices caught Lore's attention, and as he looked up from the bench towards them his heart leapt into his throat. Subconsciously he did his best to become as small and unnoticeable as possible.
"Yeah, so she was like all over me, like she couldn't take her hands off me, but then her RA showed up and I had to bail."
"Ah dude, weak."
"Yeah, I know, right? Total blue balls."
The figures stopped and drew silent as their eyes fell upon their favorite victim all throughout high school, Lore Masters.
Jonathan Peterson, Cole Greenberg, and Chris Barber had been in Lore's graduating class, Jonathan at the top while his two friends trailed towards the bottom in academic study. If it hadn't been for Lore, Jonathan would have graduated at the head of the class, but that was mostly due to the older teen's paternal influence at the school. All three came from wealthy families, ones that showered them with privilege. The three of them had made it their duty all throughout high school to make Lore's life miserable, and from the look in their eyes it appeared as if they had plans to resume their torment again.
Lore suddenly wished the young man, his big brother, was here.
As the figures advanced towards Lore, like predators stalking their prey, Lore bolted from the bench, leaving the candies behind as the three boys immediately ran after him in pursuit. For the second time that day, Lore found himself running away from people who wished him harm. It was odd though, Lore thought, as his mind wandered with the rush of running through the streets towards the campus. Even though the swordsman, Artisan, had been angry and had been trying to attack Lore, he never really felt like the martial artist was really trying to hurt him; he had just been trying to scare him.
A sharp and sudden pain to the back of Lore's ear brought him immediately into the present. Reaching a hand to feel behind his ear, he could feel the blood begin to flow from the small gash caused by the rock one of his pursuers had thrown. Unlike Artisan, these guys weren't playing around, and Lore found himself longing for the swordsman's presence, even if he had to take 100 hits from a kendo stick.
As Darkness fell, Lore ran and his bullies gave chase.
"So, Morgan," Warren said as he and the other residents of House Orison milled around the small park, "about leaving him alone on a bench at night..."
Morgan Everett turned to give a deadly glance towards his best friend and greatest enemy, Warren Wallace, before returning his gaze to the bench where he had left Lorenzo Masters only a half hour ago. He had told the boy he would be back, and it hadn't been so dark out. He should have insisted the boy return with him to House Orison.
"Maybe he headed back towards the house?" Chase offered with his aluminum baseball bat still perched lazily on his shoulder.
"No," Morgan said, "we took the most direct path, so we would have run into him if he had headed back towards the house. Something just doesn't seem right..."
"Agreed," Artisan replied as he rose from his crouching position near the bench, "you didn't happen to stop to get some candy, did you?"
"Yeah," Morgan confirmed to the enigmatic Philosophy major, "I left him with half a bag of those root beer hard candies I like. Why?"
Artisan showed the collected group in the dim light a number of trampled candies he found near the bench.
"Oh, dear." Ian commented as he picked up one of the crushed candies from Artisan's palm.
"Oh, shit." Chase echoed.
"Shoot." Warren sighed.
"Oh, no." Morgan replied.
"The trail leads that way," Artisan pointed out towards the campus. "Could be a small group, three or so I would say in pursuit."
"House Orison, look sharp." Morgan said as he took a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket and adjusted them on his hands, "We're on patrol."
Lore had been running for almost five full minutes and had been ducking around buildings, looking for someone to help him for almost another five before he finally collapsed to the ground. There was no one out and about, classes wouldn't start for another few days, and most of the student body hadn't even arrived yet.
Having missed lunch and dinner with the excitement of the day, his head slightly ringing from the rock that had been thrown at him, he was in no shape to keep going, but his pursuers didn't seem to be having the same problem. As they strolled towards the boy, seeing him defeated, Lore picked himself back up and feebly attempted to back away towards the lamppost.
"Hey, runt," Jonathan said as he took center stage, as usual, "you gave us quite the little chase. You are going to pay for that."
His cronies, Cole and Chris flanked Lore so there would be no escape.
"God, you are pathetic." Jon spat as he looked the frightened Lore up and down, "You are a weak, worthless, hillbilly. My dad says when your grandma kicks it, all of your family's land is going to go to you, but if you aren't old enough to manage it yet, it all goes to your mom... oh wait, she is six feet under it, isn't she?"
Lore clenched his fist but bit his tongue, knowing it would be worse if he didn't.
"Of course, maybe your dad will come and look after you... oh wait, he's in jail." Jon goaded. "Why is that again?"
Lore was fast, but Jon was faster, easily moving his head back in time to cause the younger teen to lose his balance, having committed all of his energy and strength into the punch. Cole and Chris wasted no time in grabbing Lore by the arms to secure him as Jon brought a hand up to the boys mouth to silence his shout of rage.
It was the cold steel of the knife that finally silenced the boy's tears as Jon flicked it open and put it lightly to the boy's throat.
"I asked you a question." Jon said coldly. "Why is your father in jail?"
Lore had known Jon Peterson for several years. The boy was a bully, through and through, preying on those weaker them himself, but never had Lore seen the coldness he saw in the older teen's eyes right now. It scared him. Freedom away from his parents and the delusion of unlimited power from privilege had caused Jonathan Peterson to take things up a notch and even his cronies seemed a little hesitant. Unfortunately, they still held Lore tightly and Jon had a knife to his throat.
Jon slowly removed his hand from Lore's mouth so the boy could answer him.
"My father..." Lore said with contempt at the word `father,' "is in jail because the police put him there."
"Why?" Jon asked knowing full well the answer but relishing the anguish he was causing young Lore to speak the words openly.
"Because," Lore clarified, "my mother told them to."
Jon feigned surprise.
"Now, why would she go and do something like that for?" he asked as he pushed the knife a little harder to Lore's exposed neck.
"Because," Lore said as a tear rolled down his cheek, "he raped her."
"And what does that make you?" Jon asked coldly.
There was a moment of silence before Lore replied.
"A child of rape." Lore said as he closed his eyes to hide the anger and shame he felt radiating from them.
Jon removed the knife and walked a few steps away, happy that his work was done. He turned his attention back to Lore as he cried quietly in the uncomfortable embrace of two older boys still holding him for their leader. For a moment the older boy seemed to regard Lore with pity, but that was merely a façade for his true emotionless intentions.
"Lore," Jon said comfortingly, "I know the truth hurts, and believe me, I don't like making you cry or hurt like that, but in the long run it is better you learn your place now. I mean, everybody at school knew, all the teachers knew, all the students, the parents, but they didn't say anything to you because they were trying to protect your feelings."
Jon walked over towards Lore and placed a gentle hand on the young boy's cheek.
"But this is the real world," Jon continued, "So what do you think is going to happen when people find out about you; about your mother and father? They might pretend to like you or even be your friend, but secretly they are just going to feel sorry for you. People like you don't do great things, and certainly don't deserve that land; especially with a family like yours that just wastes it."
Jonathan's gentle touches suddenly went lower and lower, slowing making its way down Lore's chest.
"You know," Jonathan said, "You're mom was fucking hot, and I hate to say it but you totally got her looks."
Lore opened his eyes and through the tears he could see Jon regarding his body.
"Tell you what; we are going to help each other out. This freshman whore got my juices flowing, but didn't seal the deal, so you are going to help me get rid of this big problem," Jon said as he rubbed his crotch through the fabric of his pants, "and I am going to teach you a lesson so you never forget your place, so you can know exactly what your mom went through the night your dad fucked her brains out and discarded her like a used tissue."
Cole and Chris just gave each other a look, but said nothing. It was obvious Jon called the shots and even if it meant watching him rape a fifteen year old boy while they held him down, they were going to do it. Lore resigned himself to his fate.
Lore didn't feel it, the knife, as the sharp blade slowly slid up his chest as it cut away at the shirt he was wearing. A couple quick cuts of the fabric at the shoulders and Jon was able to remove Lore's shirt without Cole or Chris losing their hold on his bare arms. Lore's slightly tanned chest from working the land was on full display for the older boy and the chill of the night air suddenly seemed sharper as it pelted his exposed skin. As Jonathan moved his knife lower and lower along Lore's flat stomach, he proceeded to slice open the boy's belt and pants in a similar manner to his shirt, causing the scraps of clothing to fall to the ground and leaving Lore clad only in a pair of green-plaid boxers and his running shoes.
"Fuck." Jon said as his eyes shamelessly took in Lore's form, "you are like a fucking girl! I can't believe how smooth you are... and how soft your skin feels. Throw a pair of tits on you and I'd fuck you every day of the week."
Being exposed like this before his tormentors was shameful enough, but the way Jonathan talked about his body, about what he wanted to do to Lore was beyond anything Lore had ever experienced. The fact they were out in the open on school grounds, Lore had thought someone would come or at least Jonathan and his buddies would have some restraint, but it was as if the older boys didn't care who saw them because of the clout their parents wielded on their behalf. He thought he had known the depths to which Jon Peterson would sink, but he was wrong; very wrong.
"Well, it looks like we have just one little piece left." Jon said as he eyed Lore's boxers lowering the sharp blade towards Lore's belly, "Who knows, maybe if I don't like what I see I'll fix you up and give you a real pussy."
Lore closed his eyes and prayed.
Mother in Heaven, please, help me!
Thunk! Whack!
Lore immediately felt himself being released from the hold of the older boys as he dropped to the ground. Opening his eyes he saw the two boys sprawled out on the ground next to a stunned Jonathan Peterson who was waving his knife wildly as he alternated his attention between the two figures flanking him. Lore recognized them both.
"Who the fuck are you guys!?" Jon demanded as he slowly backed away from Lore and the dark figures.
"Chase Dunn, second year physical education major, Captain of House Orison's fifth squad." Coach Chase said as he leveled his aluminum baseball bat at Jonathan like he was going to hit him out of the park.
"I am Artisan, third year philosophy major, and Captain of House Orison's fourth squad." Artisan echoed as he brought his kendo stick to bear against the knife wielding foe before him.
Lore felt a heavy jacket land on his shoulders, the warmth of the jacket was a welcome diversion from the cold night air and he was suddenly aware of the scent of cookies from the jacket. A tall and heavier set figure continued to walk past Lore on his left, sheltering him from any chance of a frontal assault.
"Ian Black, fourth year nutritionist and physical therapist, Captain of House Orison's third squad and the house's official mommy." Ian said as the redhead seemed to radiate a motherly wrath towards Jonathan who was quickly beginning to feel outnumbered.
Cole and Chris began slowly making their way to their feet from being blindsided by a baseball bat and a kendo stick respectively, and as they made it to their feet and Jonathan looked as if he was getting his confidence back, both boys began to jerk around wildly before collapsing once again back to the ground. Lore could hear a quiet electrical pulse sound which carried both his and Jonathan's attention to the shadows behind where Jonathan was standing. Stepping into the light of the lamppost was a strapping cowboy and in each hand a taser with invisible wires connected to the two fallen boys.
"Warren Wallace, third year business major, Captain of House Orison's second squad and proprietor of the Clearwater University campus store." The double crossing cowboy gave Lore a wink before flipping a switch on his tasers and sending another volley of volts into the unconscious bodies of Cole and Chris as they jerked around on the ground some more.
Another figure came up from behind Lore, on his right, and as Lore looked up he saw the young man, his big brother, come to save the day.
"I am Morgan Everett, third year English major, Captain of House Orison's first squad, and campus guardian of Lorenzo Masters." Morgan said as he continued to advance on Jonathan.
As Jonathan leapt towards Morgan, Lore yelled out for him to stop, but there was no need.
Morgan expertly grabbed the hand Jonathan had attacked with at the wrist and brought it around the younger boy's back as he struggled to get free. Instinctively, he dropped the knife and Morgan let his arm go, shoving the freshman away from him as Jonathan stumbled forward. Unarmed, outnumbered, and with his cronies unconscious on the ground, Jonathan Peterson ran into the night as fast as he could, while the members of House Orison watched him make his escape.
"Artisan, Chase, go round him up." Morgan ordered.
Chase gave an energetic smile as Artisan gave Morgan a sideways glance and a slight nod of the head before they both disappeared into the night in pursuit. Lore was so enthralled by the entire scene that had played out before him that he was in a bit of a daze and hadn't noticed Ian checking him for injuries until he got to Lore's left ear and the quick pain brought Lore back to reality.
"Sorry," Ian said as he gingery checked behind Lore's ear to see how bad it was, "it doesn't look too deep, but we will get it all cleaned up back at the house, okay?"
Ian wrapped Lore up in his heavy jacket before helping the boy to his feet and gathering up the scraps of clothing that littered the ground. Luckily, because of Ian's size, the jacket fell down below Lore's waist, covering up most of his body from his mid-thigh up. Looking down at Cole and Chris as Warren collected the tags from his tasers, he began riffling through their pockets until he found their wallets and removed their student IDs.
"Hey, kid." Warren said addressing Lore as he placed the IDs into his own jacket pocket, "Sorry bout earlier. If I had known who you were, I wouldn't have ratted you out to Art back there... well, maybe would have given you more of a head start. No hard feelings I hope?"
"Yeah." Lore said a little out of it, "But... wait you are all in House Orison?"
"Sure are, kid." Warren replied as he and Morgan moved over towards Lore and Ian.
"Okay guys, let's get Lore home." Morgan said as he wrapped a protective arm around the young boy, "He's had a big night and he needs to get some rest, I think."
"But, wait..." Lore said looking around, "What about the others? What about Jon or Chris and Cole?"
"Oh, don't you worry about a darn thing," Warren said as he tipped his hat up and smiled down at Lore, "we're House Orison; this is the kind of stuff we specialize in. Art and Chase are big boys who have done their fair share of butt kicking, and if I know them, they are probably negotiating that there yellow-belly's surrender as we speak."
Chase and Artisan stood quietly over the unconscious body of Jonathan Peterson.
"If Morgan or Professor Malcolm asks... he had a gun." Artisan said as he looked down at his handy work, not having meant to unleash the full ferocity of his family's ancient sword wielding technique on the unsuspecting bully.
"Yeah..." Chase said as he stared in disbelief at the damage wrought by a simple kendo stick, "...like... two guns."
The four walked home in silence, Ian and Morgan protectively flanking Lore while Warren trailed behind a bit at a slow mosey. As Lore played the scene over and over in his head, of what could have happened, what should have happened, he suddenly stopped.
"You okay, buddy?" Morgan asked.
"It's just..." Lore began, but he couldn't find the right words.
"You want to know why five complete strangers tracked you down in the middle of the night and rescued you from those three guys?" Morgan asked.
"Well, yeah." Lore said looking up at Morgan, "I mean, it's not that I am not thankful... it's just... Jon almost... he... I almost..."
The full realization of what almost happened hit Lore and he began crying, not because he was almost raped like his mother had been, but because he had been saved from such a fate like his mother should have been. It was his mother that should have been saved by five complete strangers, even if it would mean Lore wouldn't exist.
Lore felt a comforting hand on his back and he turned into Ian's caring embrace as the young man let the teen cry his heart out and vent all of that fear and sadness, letting it all escape. Warren approached quietly and let Morgan know he was going to go contact Professor Malcolm before he left the three to their own devices.
After that, it was all a blur for Lore, the walk back home, the shower to clean up, Ian checking him over afterwards and bandaging up his ear, even getting dressed seemed like a blur. It wasn't until he realized he was sitting on his bed with Morgan next to him that he asked.
"So, why did you come for me?" Lore asked Morgan as the young man gently rubbed his back comfortingly.
"Because, Lore," Morgan said kindly, "that is what we do. That is why House Orison exists."
Lore looked quizzically up at Morgan as if he had said the most ridiculous thing in the entire world.
"Lore," Morgan asked, "do you know why House Orison was founded?"
Lore shook his head.
"About 16 years ago, something very unfortunate happened at Clearwater University." Morgan explained. "A freshman girl attending school here was being stalked by a sohpomore boy who also went to school here. One night, when she was coming back from a late walk, he followed her and attacked her. He raped her, Lore, but I am sure you already know that. Her name was Gail Masters. It is a name every student who becomes a patrol captain of House Orison is taught. You see, her name was kept out of the papers to protect her, but it is a name taught to each and every captain of House Orison so we never forget the name of the person House Orison was founded for."
Lore's eyes grew wide.
"Wait, my mom founded House Orison?" Lore asked in disbelief.
"She may not have funded it or convinced the school board that a more proactive approach to campus security needed to be put into place," Morgan explained, "but it was her courage to face her attacker and a speech she gave to the board that put things in motion that finally created House Orison. Clearwater University has dozens of houses that act like fraternities for the college, but House Orison is the smallest and, some would argue, the most important. We organize and lead patrols of the campus at night, help instruct students in the art of self defense and personal security, and most importantly... we make it our personal goal never to let what happened to Gail Masters ever happen to anyone else."
"So, you, Warren, Ian, Artisan, and Chase are all patrol captains?" Lore asked.
"We are," Morgan confirmed, "and so are you."
Lore looked up at Morgan with a look caught between surprise and disbelief.
"How can I be a patrol captain?" Lore asked. "I'm... me. I can't fight or grab a guy with a knife, or even get away..."
"Ya don't have to, kid." Warren said as he leaned against the door frame. "Ya just got to find your own style. Besides, I think ya are putting a bit too much of the world on yawls shoulders. Remember, there are five more captains in this house, and we help each other out. Now, Morgan, Professor Malcolm is in the living room admiring our $3,000 scrap of art shaped like a television courtesy of Whit Riley. I'll stay and keep the kid safe and sound, no tricks."
Morgan got up from his position next to Lore, and the boy grabbed the sleeve of his shirt with a look in his eyes that told Morgan he wasn't going anywhere without him.
"Okay," Morgan chuckled a bit, "why don't we all go out and see Professor Malcolm?"
Out in the living room sat the five gathered individuals; Warren Wallace and Ian Black on one couch, Morgan Everett and Lore Masters on the opposite couch, and Professor Ryan Malcolm at the loveseat off to the side. The debriefing had been simple, as the patrol captains explained the situation of Lore's unexpected arrival, his subsequent fleeing from House Orison, and the circumstances leading up to his being chase down by the three boys. Lore, for his part, filled in the gaps when it came to motive and positively identifying the three boys.
"Well," Malcolm said, "it seems pretty straight forward to me. Clearwater University has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to things like this, so I will have Mr. Peterson, Mr. Greenberg, and Mr. Barber removed from the campus for the night and in the morning we will send them back home."
"You mean you are expelling them?" Lore asked a little amazed, "Just like that?"
"Of course," Professor Malcolm replied, "we can't have individuals like that associated with our school, and they broke the rules when they attacked you. Now, as far as the severity of force used to counter their assault goes..."
"Now, just hear us out..." Warren began defending his and the other house member's use of excessive force but he was silenced by Professor Malcolm.
"... As I see it, Mr. Wallace," Malcolm continued, "you boys used your best judgment given the circumstances. I will chalk up Mr. Artisan's and Mr. Dunn's overly-enthusiastic apprehension of Mr. Peterson as a combination of an emotionally charged situation and being a bit rusty from break in the art of subduing individuals as opposed to outright beating them up."
Malcolm had explained earlier about Artisan and Chase bringing Jonathan Peterson into the nurse's building in a state similar to someone who had been hit by a car three or four times. While Lore had no great love for Jon Peterson, he could only imagine what an emotionally charged Chase or an equally emotionless Artisan could be capable of and he sort of felt bad for the older boy and his friends. He must have been thinking about it pretty hard because his train of thought was broken by Professor Malcolm's words.
"Lore?" Malcolm asked again, "You look pensive, are you sure you are alright?"
The boys of House Orison had done their best to make the details of Lore's attack as vague as possible when they explained the situation to Professor Malcolm, the faculty advisor for House Orison. They had neglected to mention Lore being almost stripped naked or the overt threat of being raped by the older boy, and for that Lore was thankful.
"Yeah, it's just..." he began before quieting himself again.
"It's just what?" Professor Malcolm asked.
"Well," Lore explained, "I just really don't think it is entirely Cole and Chris's fault, I mean that they attacked me. I've known them and Jon for a while, and Jon is pretty intimidating even among his friends. Plus, I could see in their eyes they really didn't want to go along with him, but until I came here and met House Orison and you, Professor Malcolm, I had never met anyone willing to stand up to the Peterson family. Back home, they are really influential, and so I was thinking..."
"Yes, Lore?" Malcolm asked.
"Well, I was thinking," Lore continued, "if Jon Peterson was gone from the school, maybe it would give Cole and Chris a chance to, you know, have a fresh start like me. Maybe they could have a chance to be themselves and decide for themselves for once, instead of being forced to go along with Jon. I mean, I am not saying I completely forgive what they... everything that has happened, but I am saying I don't think it is fair they don't get a clean slate at college. After all, isn't college where you are supposed to find your path and reinvent yourself? I was hoping when I came up here to find myself and get away from the high school I went to filled with bullies and people who would lord their power over others. I just wonder if Cole and Chris had secretly hoped for that too."
There was a moment of quiet reflection among the gathered, but it was Professor Malcolm who broke the silence.
"So," Malcolm summed up, "it sounds like you are telling me; you would rather see Cole Greenberg and Chris Barber stay at Clearwater University, even though they helped hold you down and participated in an attack against you, regardless of culpability, because you would like them to have the same chance you have at a fresh start without Jonathan Peterson around?"
"Yeah," Lore said as he looked around at the gathered group, "I mean, is that possible? Or is the zero-tolerance policy..."
Malcolm let out a sigh.
"Well," Morgan interjected, "it would appear that while Cole Greenberg and Chris Barber did participate in tonight's events, they may have been bullied themselves or at the very least coerced into helping. If the instigator is removed, I think there is a sub-paragraph blah blah blah, they could do some community service around the campus while they are on probation?"
Lore looked hopefully towards Professor Malcolm who in turn looked hopefully up towards heaven and whatever gods were watching.
"I will talk with the headmaster and present my findings before him." Professor Malcolm replied to the eyes upon him, "Just keep in mind the headmaster is the ultimate authority here at Clearwater, and his decisions in these matters are final. Okay?"
Lore nodded his understandings, but his smile betrayed his optimism.
It was late and Morgan was trying to get some rest when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. Giving a quiet reply, the door opened and Lore Masters stuck his head in. Morgan could see the boy hadn't been sleeping well.
"Umm..." Lore hesitated, "I was just wondering... I'm not too good with sleeping in new places... and... jeez... I feel kind of stupid asking..."
"Get in here." Morgan laughed a little to himself as he motioned for Lore to enter.
Lore's eyes lit up and he quickly but quietly entered the room in his boxers and a t-shirt and shut the door. As he moved over towards the bed, Morgan made room for him and Lore slipped under the covers. The rooms provided to the members of House Orison were huge by college standards and Morgan had a decent sized bed that could easily accommodate Lore as well as himself. As Lore finished snuggling into the covers, he seemed to become a little self conscious.
"Umm..." Lore hesitated again, "I just wanted to say... thank you, I mean for everything today. I... I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there at that bench... or at the lamppost... I've never been so afraid in my entire life... and... and..."
Morgan could sense Lore's emotions somewhat coming to the surface again as he recounted the nights events, so he scooted himself closer to the boy and wrapped an arm around him protectively, comforting him. The shaking seemed to subside as Lore melted into his embrace and began to snuggle up to him more than the covers.
"Lore," Morgan began as he spoke quietly and soothingly, "what happened today was a fluke. I should have never left your side for one minute. I promise I will never let something like that happen to you again. I don't know why, but you mean a lot to me."
"You mean a lot to me too, Morgan." Lore confided. "When we were sitting on the bench, talking, I wasn't afraid or worried about anything. When I was running, all I could think of was how I wished you were right there next to me. I..."
Lore grew quiet and silently seemed to snuggle into Morgan more.
"What is it, buddy?" Morgan asked.
"I... I don't want you to hate me." Lore said as tears once more came to his eyes.
"Hate you?" Morgan asked in disbelief, "Lore, how could I hate you? You are perfect. I love you."
"You do?" Lore replied with a bit of astonishment. "You love me?"
"Of course I do." Morgan said with a bit of a chuckle.
"I... I love you too, Morgan." Lore said quietly. "But I think I might `love you' love you."
There was a brief moment of silence and to Lore it felt like an eternity.
"Well then," Morgan said as he continued to hold Lore close, "we will just have to see where love takes us, but for now, young man, you need to get some rest. Promise me you will get some rest and we can talk some more in the morning, okay?"
"You mean... you aren't mad at me?" Lore asked.
"Lore," Morgan said as he leaned down and kissed the boy on the top of his head, "I just got told I am love loved by a beautiful and smart young man who happens to be fifteen. I am honored, confused, excited, frightened, sleepy, and loved. I am many things, Lore, but mad isn't one."
"Oh," Lore said simply, "I guess I can understand that. I am a little confused myself."
"For the record though, but then we really need to get some sleep," Morgan cautioned, "I think I might `love you' love you, too. For now though, all you need to know is I am here, you are here, in the morning we will both be here, and tomorrow we will sort it all out together."
"Okay," Lore said as sleep finally seemed to take hold of him, "just promise you will be here... when I wake up."
"Don't worry, buddy," Morgan quipped back, "If you take too long, I'll just tickle you until you wake up."
With that Lorenzo Masters and Morgan Everett closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep in one another's arms; the promise of a brighter day looming on the horizon. Lore had only ever felt as safe as he did now while in his mother's arms, being gently lulled to sleep. He could almost feel her presence watching over him as his mind slipped free and he began to dream.
END EPISODE ONE