Framboise’s chemistry teacher looked like a walrus. He had the droopy mustache and the watery eyes, and tiny little glasses perched on top of his bulbous nose. He was a scientific genius, but senility had long since taken its toll upon the poor man’s brain, and he was prone to long tirades about countries he’d lived in and telling students about his impending doomsday theories. Framboise liked him because he was a gentle old man and liked his job, and even though he was a sadist when it came to grading, he had a good heart. His name was Don Roberts, or Mr. Roberts, and he was about sixty-two years old, give or take a few years. He never played favorites and he never assigned lab partners.

That was the reason why Framboise was sitting alone, again, on the day of a lab determining the amount of silver in sterling silver.

He usually sat alone. Framboise didn’t have any friends. Usually, when one says, “I have no friends,” they usually mean, “I have friends, just not a lot.” But Framboise meant it. He had absolutely no friends. The only names in his cellphone were his parents’ (cell, work and home) and he didn’t have a Facebook or a MySpace. He had no online friends, no life and no job. He was scrawny with a round baby face and girlish features. He looked like a twelve-year-old girl and it pissed him off. His hair, no matter how he tried to muss it up, always looked soft and even though it was short, it hung about his forehead as though people cut bangs for him in his sleep. His girly little name did nothing to help: the word ‘framboise’ means ‘raspberry’ in French and since he found out about it, he despised his crazy-ass, hippie parents for giving their only son a feminine name in a language no one in their family speaks. In all senses of the word, Framboise was an epic loser.

Today, however, was different. Framboise could tell the minute he woke up. There was something new in the air, a spark of excitement, as though someone in heaven lit the biggest match ever, and a piece of the phosphorous from the match head had rained down over the town and hovered, inches away from his lips, in front of Framboise. He couldn’t help but anticipate something momentous.

At that precise moment, the door to the lab opened and in walked Hercules Harpton, everyone’s favorite student. Of course Mr. Roberts would excuse his lateness; this was Hercules Harpton, after all. Framboise would be telling the lie of all lies if he said he wasn’t envious of the guy. After all, how can you not be jealous of a guy whose nickname was Hercules?

Framboise watched Hercules’s eyes scan the occupied tables, and then they locked on to the seat next to him. Framboise blinked as Hercules made eye contact, blinked again when Hercules waved, blinked once more when he smiled and began to walk over. Was this really happening? Was this the fire that the match spark had started?

Hercules was a tall, lean, muscular boy, with dark hair and a defined profile. He was attractive, in a manly way, and certainly, he looked like a sports player. He had hands that could grip a small child in their palm, and a body that Framboise would kill for. And to top it off, his lips were not as full or pouty as Framboise’s girly ones; in fact, they were just the opposite: thin, boyish, and always curved upwards in just a tiny smile. Not only was Hercules handsome, he was charming, and funny, and friendly, and everything Framboise could be, if he could just alter his personality. Watching the long, relaxed gait of the other student, Framboise cursed his shyness.

Hercules took his seat and then looked over at Framboise, who had returned to doodling, resigning himself to only living as an admirer of people who would become something. Finally, Hercules spoke. “Hi.”

Framboise looked around, trying to figure out if it was indeed him to whom Hercules had spoken. Finding no one else, he turned back and smiled weakly. “Hi,” he echoed, unsure of what to say next. What does a lonely, easily amused, easily excitable kid do when the school’s most popular kid suddenly acknowledges your existence?

Apparently, nothing. Hercules managed to take care of most of the talking. “I’m Herc, nice to meet you. What’s your name, lab partner?” He held out his hand, preparing to shake.

Framboise couldn’t help it. He let loose a huge smile and took Hercules’s hand enthusiastically. “I’m Framboise, but most people call me Fram. Well, I mean, they would if people knew my name. If I had friends, I bet they’d call me Fram. Like, you know, Fran… but with an ‘M’.”

That was a bad habit Framboise had. He was the personality of a social butterfly trapped in the body of an introvert, and the two clashed constantly. It made him shy and seemingly quiet, but also made his personality huge. Framboise blamed many things: low self-esteem, low confidence, shyness, and, among those things, a huge bubble entitled, “LAZY” which Framboise figured was maybe a bad thing to have when you desperately want friends but lack the motivation to get them.

“Framboise, huh?” Hercules was saying. “Cool name.”

“You think so?” Framboise asked, getting excited. “For real? Because I always thought it was kinda lame.”

“Nah, it’s chill, it’s really unique.” Hercules grinned. “Is it a nickname, or is it actually your name?”

Didn’t I already kind of answer that question? Framboise questioned, but he shrugged it off. “No, it’s my real name,” he said. “My parents are crazy hippies who thought it’d be cool to name their kid ‘raspberry’ in French.”

Mr. Roberts dropped some sterling silver on their table and Framboise got to work setting up the experiment. Hercules busied himself by copying Framboise’s notes when suddenly, Fram piped up, “What about you?”

Hercules looked up, surprised. “‘What about me’ what?” he asked, blinking.

Framboise set the beaker full of water down and started to weigh the filter paper they’d been given. “Is your name really Hercules?”

“Mm? Oh, no,” Hercules replied, dotting an i. “My real name’s Anthony. For a while people called me Tony, then I started doing sports and got all, uh, buff or something, so they called me Hercules, and it’s kinda stuck.”

Framboise frowned and put the silver in the crucible. “That’s a cooler reason to have a weird name.” He flicked on the Bunsen burner and sighed. “You’re so cool.”

Hercules blinked. “Um. I’m not trying to be rude or anything, and this is honestly just a question, but, uh, are you hitting on me?”

“What?!” Framboise dropped the acid he was holding, and the top flew off across the table. The acid spilled across the table. “Shit, shit, shit! Here, help me out!” He went scrambling for the box of baking soda on the counter, left there just in case something like this actually happened.

Hercules watched him cover the counter with a thick layer of the baking soda. As the acid neutralized, he stared at Framboise until the other boy was forced to turn around and ask, “What?”

“Are you?” Hercules continued, genuinely curious.

“Am I what?”

“Hitting on me?”

Framboise blinked and shook his head. “No, of course not! I’m just stating a fact. Youare cool.”

It was Hercules’s turn to frown. “I’m not that cool.”

“Pfft. Yeah, you are. Compared to a loser like me? You’re the coolest thing since sliced bread.” Accompanying this statement was a forlorn look from Framboise.

Hercules began to feel uncomfortable. He’d never taken well to compliments. They weirded him out and made him feel like he needed to return a favor, and oftentimes, people would turn that favor down. It made him feel awkward, so he tried to fix it, neutralize it like the baking soda and the acid.

“You’re… cool… too…” he tried, but immediately knew it was not the right thing to say.

Framboise sighed and sat down, setting the water to boil. “No, I’m not. I’m a lameoid. Could you cover the silver with acid?” Hercules poured just enough acid over the silver sample to cover it completely. “Thanks,” Framboise continued. “I’m always lonely, I have no friends, I’m not good at anything, I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’m a loser and the world knows it. You, though. You are the epitome of cool.” He looked down at his notes and sighed again. “I wish I was as cool as you.”

It was then that Hercules was struck with a brilliant idea. He looked down at Framboise and said, “Okay, I got an idea.”

“An idea for what?”

“An idea to stop your high school experience from being super lame for the whole time.” Hercules sat down next to Framboise and leaned forward. “How about I show you how to be cool?”

Framboise raised a brow. “Is ‘cool’ a teachable thing?”

“Sure,” Hercules assured him. “It’s like learning how to ride a bike, okay? You gotta learn the basics, and then once you learn how to be cool, you never forget. Yeah? Whattaya say, Fram? I hang around you, teach you the basics of Cool.”

Framboise looked hesitant, but pressed. “What are those basics?”

Hercules shrugged. “I don’t know. Stuff like, you know, ‘How Not to be Awkward’ and ‘Impressing People With Lies’ and crap. Trust me, if I’m half as cool as you think I am, I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had. And the best part is, you don’t have to pay me.”

Framboise eyed him, then said, “No catch?”

“No catch,” Hercules responded honestly. “Even if it doesn’t work out, don’t you think it’d be cool to be friends anyway? You’d go skyrocketing on the social food chain if you took me up, because in the process, we’d become friends, hm?” He paused, watching the gears in Framboise’s head turn. “Well?”

Framboise studied Hercules’s face. It could very well be an elaborate prank, but Framboise was desperate for friends and for a life. He wanted so badly to get plastered like the popular kids did every Friday night. He wanted to hook up with a girl. He wanted to be admired. And most of all, he just wanted Hercules to be his friend. He shook Hercules’s hand.

“Okay,” he said, “you got yourself a deal.”

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A/N: Hello all. If you liked the first chapter, hopefully you won’t be too mad at me for not being able to update for two and a half months! I’m going abroad and won’t be able to do any work on the story… especially since I’m writing it in my native language and I’m going abroad to learn another language.

Anyway, please let me know if you like the story. If you’re looking for gay content, you may be in luck. I haven’t really decided yet.

Thanks for reading this far!!