Growing Pains It’s a one-horse town. Lucas thought wryly to himself as he skimmed a stone across the small pond, ignoring the pain in his ribs that protested dully as he stretched to throw the stone. But the horse is dead. Sally and Justine don’t know how damn lucky they were to get out of this pit. He’d always wanted to get out, for as long as he could remember he’d dreamed of college and a career, not just a job. He'd never hated the place, though, not as he did now. That hatred, like the bruises that so often mottled his skinny torso, hailed from the day two months ago that his Uncle Zachary had arrived. That's when everything had started to go downhill, when things got bad. Straightening up from his hunched position he raised a hand in an automatic gesture to brush his hair out of his face, his mouth tightening angrily as his hands brushed the newly cropped hair of his head. His Uncle again, apparently Zachary didn’t approve of long hair on a boy and he wasn’t about to put up with it on his nephew. Running his fingers through the spiky cropped hair he fingered the swollen lump he could feel on the side of his head, wincing as his probing fingers sent a spasm of black edged pain through his brain. Pulling his hands away from his head with an angry motion, he bent over, grabbing the bottle of whiskey casually by the neck. Swatting at the grass and mud stains that now decorated his jeans he wandered over to a nearby rock and pulled himself up onto it. He hissed slightly as he took a deep swallow from the half empty bottle, relishing the burning sensation as the liquid ran down his throat. Letting it dangle between his upraised knees he leaned his head back to stare sullenly up at the stars. Would Justine take him in? He wondered, twisting the bottle anxiously between his hands. They’d never been that close but if he told…. No, he couldn’t do that. Justine would just go running to Momma with the story, no matter what he made her promise first. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that to his Momma, she’d been happier since Uncle Zachary came to stay. Happier than he could remember her being since his Pa died. If he told her what a jackass Zachary was...,she would believe him. He had to believe that, despite what Zachary said, had to believe she’d take his word for it. He had no doubt his Momma would send Zachary packing, brother or not, but then she’d be upset and unhappy and she’d enough unhappiness in her life. So he couldn’t tell and there was no way that Justine would take him in otherwise. Sally would, if he told her that he needed it, and she’d do without asking any questions he couldn't afford to answer. There were problems with that too, though. Sally’s situation wasn’t like Justine’s; she wasn’t living on her own with a wage to support her. She was still a student at that Xavier academy and they’d hardly be pleased if her kid brother turned up on the doorstep and announced he’d come to stay. Best outcome of that would be them just booting him out and telling him to go home, worst would be if they kicked Sally out as well. That, he thought grimly as his anger burned a little through the veil of alcohol that slowed his mind, would be very bad for Sally. He'd be all right here, it wasn’t pleasant acting as Zachary’s punching bag whenever he lost his temper but he’d survive. Hell, he’d dealt with bullies enough that one more, a bit bigger and meaner than the rest wasn’t going to beat him. Sally, though, she needed the protection offered by the Xavier Foundation. He’d have to be as dumb as Zachary said he was, have to be as dumb as Zachary, to miss the deterioration in mutant-human relations on the news. About a week ago he’d seen the report on that kid that got beaten to death for no other reason that someone said he was a mutant. Paul Londal, that was his name, and he’d only been five years old. A little kid no older that his own youngest brothers and some racist jerks had beaten him to death. What might people like that do to Sally? Shifting the bottle to one hand he began to pick nervously at the frayed hole in the knee of his faded denim jeans. Or to the little ‘un’s, his mind added grimly refusing to ignore the possibilities that his musings had awoken in him, if they found out Sally was a mutant they might assume we all were. Pulling a short white thread loose of his jeans, widening the small hole into a broad rip across his knee, he rolled it absently between his fingers. Preston and the babies might be pains at times, most of the time, but he didn’t want anything to happen to them, or to Momma. Zachary he could watch getting whipped without lifting a finger but not the others. No, he’d be putting everyone at risk if he did that, proving that he was selfish and useless just like Zachary said. He was just going to have to stay here and tough it out, for everyone’s sake. Taking another gulp from the bottle he tilted his head back and scanned the heavens as he tried to locate the North Star. He remembered, vaguely, his father pointing it out to him one night but time and the blurring effects of alcohol confused his recollection. Giving it up with a bitter sigh he lowered his gaze to the ground, maybe his bastard of an uncle was right. Maybe he was getting what he deserved when Zachary hit him; he never seemed to be able to get anything right. He shook his head angrily, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes as he felt the tears burning painfully at the back of his eyes. Scrubbing the incipient tears away he tilted his head back, draining the last of the liquid from the bottle, his throat working convulsively as he swallowed. “Hey, Lucas. Y’all got started before us?” A cheerful voice, the slight slur thickening the already heavy Southern accent suggesting that he had gotten started on the evenings festivities early himself, shattered the silence of the clearing. “An’ here we were thinkin’ that ya’d be th’ one stayin’ sober tonight.” Sniffing unobtrusively Lucas twisted round on the rock to face his two friends, who were leaning against the hood of Bob Saunder’s battered old Ford pick-up, forcing a grin to a face that seemed reluctant to co-operate with him. Lifting the empty glass bottle he saluted his three friends with it casually before hopping off the rock and walking over to them. “Me? Stayin’ sober on a Friday night? Ah ain’t done that since Ah was twelve.” Tossing the empty bottle into the back of Bob’s battered old pickup he leaned his elbow on the open window and eyed the two grinning idiot’s warily. “What on earth give ya that idea?” “Ah’d heard that ya Uncle had gotten ya a position on the football team.” Danny drawled, scratching absently at his curly ginger hair as he watched the scowl growing on his young friend’s face. “They’re playin’ tomorrow so Ah guess Ah thought y’all would be in trainin’.” “Yeah.” Bob drawled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans as he casually punched his smaller friend in the shoulder. “You’re goin’ up t’ bed at eight o’clock after a dinner o’ veggies and bran.” “Ma Uncle takes too damn much on himself.” Lucas growled irritably, hunching his shoulders slightly as the rage began to seethe inside him. It frightened him a little, the anger that twisted in his gut whenever he thought of his uncle. It made him want to hit things, even Danny and Bob and they’d been his friends since he was ten years old. Forcing the anger down he grinned again, though it was more a sneer than a smile, and pulled the pickup door open. Clearing the accumulated rubbish off the seat with an impatient gesture he pulled himself in, slamming the door shut behind him. “Jus’ because he was some over-muscled jock in school now he thinks tha’ Ah’ m gonna go the same way. Heck, if’n he thought it’d work he’d have me pumped on steroids or something. Allus goin’ on about how I gotta be a ‘man ’. Like some forty year old bachelor with no kids, no wife and no sign of evah even havin’ a girlfriend since he got here.” “Wha’? Y’sayin’ yer uncle’s gay, Lucas?”” Danny asked with a prurient grin as he headed round to the driver’s side of the car. “Man, Ah’d love t’ see th’ look on some o’ his buddies faces if they heard y’ saw that.” “They’d probably all die o’ heart attacks.” Lucas sniggered, snagging a beer the floor and popping the cap. “But Ah don’ really think he is. Ah think he’s just dumb as jackshit an’ Ah can’ believe tha’ he’s actually related t’ ma Momma.” “So y’ aren’t gonna be playing at th’ big ball game t’morrow?” Bobby asked, leaning in through the open back window from his perch in the back and poking Lucas in the back of his cropped head. “Now tha’s a damn shame, Ah was hoping tha’ ya’d introduce me t’ all a those cute li’l cheerleaders. Ah used t’ jus’ watchin’ tha’ sister o’ yours…” Slapping Bobby’s hand away smartly Lucas turned round in the seat and grabbed his friend firmly by the collar, twisting it till Bobby’s plump face paled in shock. “Are y’ mouthin’ of about mah sistah?” Lucas asked in a tone all the more disconcerting for it’s calmness. “Ah hope not, Bobby. Because if y’ are Ah ’m gonna have ta hurt ya.” “Geez, Lucas.” Bobby gasped, gripping the skinny blond’s arm in both his hands and trying to pull himself loose. He was slightly startled at the unyielding strength in the thin, wiry arm but he was too concerned with trying to pry the iron fingers loose from his throat to really register it. “Ah was jus’ jokin’, Ah swear. Ya know tha’ Ah’d never disrespect yoah family.” “Good.” Lucas muttered, flushing slightly as he let go of his friend’s collar with an abashed grin. “Ceptin’ ole wacky Zack, o’ course.” “Yeah. Ah didn’t mean nothin’, Lucas. Ya know that” Bob shuffled over towards Danny’s side of the car and doing his best to look a little bit pitiful. He didn’t get much sympathy from his friend who just shook his head and kept his concentration on the rearview mirror as he started trying to back out of the clearing down the dirt road. In Danny’s opinion Bob should have known better by now than to make any comment even slightly disrespectful about Lucas’ family. As wild as he could be at times Lucas had still been raised by Lucinda Guthrie and in that world family came first, all the time. “So, wha’ d’you want t’ do tonight?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence just as Lucas tipped back the beer bottle and took a deep swallow. “Head on into town?” “Nah.” Lucas said, suddenly leaning forward as they drove back the high school and pointing towards the car park. “Let’s head on in there and prepare a bit o’ a surprise for the game tomorrow.” Tossing back the rest of the beer he grinned wickedly at his friends. “C’mon, Zachary’s always tellin’ me t’ get more involved in sports. Lets show ‘im wha’ happen when Ah do, huh?” Bob hesitated for a second as he rubbed his neck, remembering the cold, dangerous look on Lucas’ face as he’d reached over the back of the seat. But as always his young friend’s energy drew him in and he leaned forward eagerly to listen to what Lucas had planned. Danny didn’t even hesitate that long, swinging the wheel around as soon as he heard Lucas speak, an anticipatory grin on his face. Turning his head to look out the window the smile slid from Lucas face and he clenched his hands on his lap. Zachary was being mad enough to spit venom tomorrow, he worshiped this stupid game, but right now Lucas didn’t care. He just needed to do something to channel the anger that was flooding his system before he did something he’d regret, like punching out one of his best friends. He just felt so strange recently, like a dam about to burst. Shaking his head he dismissed the dark thoughts and turned back to his friends, watching with grim satisfaction as they sniggered in approval of his plan as he explained it to them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Recipes, relationships. Horoscopes, health. Fashion, fitness. 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