Chapter #5The Four Musketeers by: Seuzz   Previously: "A Story of Several Lifetimes" 
"Yo! Here!" Joe calls, and with an inhuman blur he dodges in front of you.
Frank feints a shot over Steve Patterson's head, then throws the basketball to his brother. You leap to block Joe, but he's already in the air, and sends the ball swishing cleanly through the net.
"We said no cheating, Dumbass!" you yell at Joe as Patterson dives in to retrieve the ball, taking it back out to half court.
"Aw, just a little to keep it interesting," Joe grins back.
You look to Frank for support, but he's concentrating on Patterson, who drums the ball thoughtfully before trying to charge by his opponent. They collide, and then Frank has the ball again, and dribbles back out to half-court.
So that's the way Joe wants it, you grin to yourself, and in the brief moment that Frank's back is turned, you grab one of the constellations that is never far from your consciousness.
"Let's do it again, Frank!" you call to him. Frank does a slight double-take; you glance over at Joe, and fake a double-take of your own. "We said no cheating, Prescott!" you yell at Joe, whose eyes widen as you shove him. You wheel to whistle at Frank, who hurls the ball to you.
"What are you doing, Joe?" Frank yells as you run out to half-court, dash around him, and charge back in at the basket.
"I'm not doing anything, Frank!" Joe yells as he tries to intercept you. "Because that's not me!"
You collide hard with the guy whose face you're wearing, but keep the ball. It's a bad shot from your position, though, so you drill it over to Patterson, who lofts it into the basket for a clean three points.
Something strong and invisible clamps around your torso, and you're dragged toward Frank, who is glowering with fury. "Oh shit," you cry.
"Oh shit!" Joe echoes as Frank drags him over too. The latter's face burns with anger as he looks between you.
"Alright, which one of you smartasses is breaking the rules," Frank roars.
"He is!" Joe yells.
"Fake!" you scream back at him. "You're using my face 'cos you're pissed I used a little English on that last play! Hang him from the gutters, Frank! Ow!"
"Drop it, Prescott," Patterson says, and slaps the side of your head again. "Frank's right, we said no cheating."
"I'm not! He is!" You jab a finger at Joe, who reddens.
Patterson grabs your jersey by the back collar; cloth tears as he rips it off. "Fine. Skins vs. shirts, if you're going to be an asshole, and if Frank can't remember which shirt you're wearing."
Frank blinks, then bends a hard frown on you. "If you're not good enough to play without fucking around, Will--"
"Oh, leave him alone," Joe yells. "He's right. I started it." He pulls off his own jersey. "Now try telling us apart."
"Oh, you're both useless," Frank says, and releases you. "You coming, Steve?" he calls over his shoulder as he stalks off.
Patterson frowns at you. "It was a fun game until the jerkoff twins decided to--" He shrugs and follows Frank back to the house.
"Nice going, Prescott," Joe snarls, and shoves you.
"You started it!" you remind him, and shove him back.
His eyes blazing, Joe leaps at you. Your struggle would be equally matched--you're wearing an exact copy of his body--but he has no compunction about playing dirty now, and uses his special speed to slip from your grip to grab you from behind, tripping and pushing you to the ground. He sits on you. "Suck it, Prescott!" He waggles his finger over your face. "Suck it until I cum!"
"Oh, you'd like that, Dumbass, wouldn't you?" You grab his hand and slurp on the digit. "Sucking yourself off."
He leaps away with a curse and stalks off a short distance. You sit up. Did you go too far? you briefly wonder. But then Joe looks back over his shoulder, and his glare dissolves into a mirthful grin. You shift back into your face. "No, leave it on," he says. "You look better as me than as yourself."
Except it's not yourself. It's a fake face, one of many fake faces you carry around. You nod at the house. "I guess we should go apologize."
"Ah, forget them," Joe says. "They're already off being queer with each other. Whadda you wanna do?"
You look around. It's a beautiful summer day in Olympia, with fluffy clouds floating above the mountain peaks, and a warm sun beating through the cool air. You're still sweating from the game, though, and wipe your forehead with the back of your arm. "I dunno. Take a spin into town, see if we can get into any trouble there?"
He shrugs. "Lemme just change clothes." He trots back to the house, and you follow.
He goes into the bedroom he's sharing with Frank during this vacation; you go into the one you're sharing with Patterson, and find your roommate digging through the dresser. "Hey," you say in a subdued tone. "Sorry about the--"
"Forget it," he says. "Me and Frank are heading out."
"Me and Joe too. Where are you going?"
"Library. Charles asked us to return some books, and we figure we can squeeze a little studying in. What about you guys?" He turns.
Only a few years ago, you'd have shit yourself to have Steve Patterson staring at you with those cold gray eyes. They're still gray and they're still cold, but you know Patterson a lot better now, and know that he can't help the color of his irises. And the dagger-like icicles that used to form in them form a lot less often these days, and only rarely when he's looking at you. Now, in fact, his eyes are crinkling with something like warmth.
"Ah, we're just gonna get in trouble," you say.
He laughs. "Give yourselves a challenge. Stay out of it."
"Not a challenge for me. Joe, though--"
"You set each other off, you know," Patterson says. "You each have to be just a little bit more of a smartass than the other."
You shrug, for it's true. You reach around Patterson to pull a clean shirt from the dresser; he takes one out too. "Maybe you should take Joe with you. You and Frank can sit on him, and he can--" You stop yourself in time. He can tutor you, you almost said.
Patterson got your meaning, though, and grunts. "He hasn't got the patience for me."
"He hasn't got the patience for anyone," you reply. "He flies too high for all of us."
"And no one can hold him down except Charles."
"He's gonna have to get used to you being at the end of his leash," you say. "If Charles's plans for you--"
"Steve!" Frank appears in the doorway. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Patterson says. "I'll finish changing on the way out." He follows Frank out the door.
* * * * *
"Go talk to her, Will," Joe says. He stuffs some more fries in his mouth and hunches over the plastic table top. "If you don't I will."
"And how will you get home if I leave you with her?"
"I won't," he retorts. "I'll catch up to you in the morning. Or the afternoon. Late tomorrow night or the morning after."
She is good-looking, in her crisp blouse and skirt, and the soft brunette hair falling about her shoulders. Nice glasses too. But she's intent on her book. "Listen, Joe, I'm serious--"
"So am I. She's hot."
"If you and Steve don't--"
"Did Dad put you up to this?" He looks at you sharply.
"No, but he's gonna have a talk with you if you don't listen to me. Or Frank."
"You talk with Frank about this?" A little flame comes into his eyes.
"I don't have to. It's a small house and his voice carries, so I know he's been--"
"Fucking Frank." Joe jams some more fries into his mouth. "Bad enough getting it from him without you--"
"Joe, don't fight it. You're making it hard for all of us."
He bends his head further; you can't see his face, but you know he must be glaring at his food.
"Joe, you're supposed to be the generous one, the one who sees the good in people and makes it easy for them. Why are you making it so hard for Steve?" He says nothing. "It's hard enough for him. He's got to swallow the fact that he's not a Stellae."
"He thinks he's got it hard? Coulda fooled me. And how do you know, have you been inside his head?"
"No, and I don't have to've been. I just have to imagine myself in his place."
"Cocksucker's awful sure of himself."
"That's just his manner. And if your dad thinks he's good enough--"
Joe slumps against his arm and trails a French fry through a puddle of ketchup. "Thing is, Dad's right," he says morosely. "Dad always is. I wish he wasn't in this case, but--"
"What have you got against Steve? You've known him for two years now, and you were fine with him up until-- I don't know when you started to carry this grudge, but--"
"Where is he now, Prescott?" Joe says. "Where's the crown prince right now?"
"At the library, studying with Frank. I told you."
"With who?"
"With--"
"Exactly!" Joe lifts the tray and bangs it on the table. "With Frank! It used to be just the two of us, the Durras boys against the world." Bitterness infects his voice. "Now it's Frank and Patterson--"
"And me," you remind him. "Where are you, Joe? Right now?"
"Frank doesn't care where I am." He frowns moodily, but relents a little. "But I do. I don't mind being with you."
"I wish you liked being with me," you say with a little acid. "Instead of trying to get rid of me by--" You glance at the other table, but the girl has gone now.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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