Author Note: Erm. This is an attempt at a romance but it's very angsty. I'm sorry about that. Also, I have a bad habit of not fixing mistakes. However, if you find any please feel free to bring them to my attention so I shall not make them again for whenever I decided to re-write my story. (If I find I'll have to and I hope not!) Wow these are long chapters. Worth it, though I hope! I have three pre-written. Expect updates quickly!

Not to mention, this is being typed on a computer that has Microsoft works on it that's so old it doesn't come with a spellcheck!! Yikes!

The Hypocrite's Smile

By: Lysh

Being misunderstood is a major part of every adolescent's life, except perhaps mine. I've never before had that chance, because I forcefeed people what I want them to think about me and no one questions it. I'm my family's chinadoll. I look pretty and I make a good decoration, but in truth I'm fragile and fake. No one suspects I could possibly be 'different', and I rather like it that way. Where I live, if you aren't white, straight and male then either your house is burned down or your a wife or child helping bake pies in the kitchen, cleaning, or studying to keep up those straight A's.

Sounds like a hateful paradise doesn't it? I say hateful, because I fill the description of white and straight... but that's it. I'm content to have fulfilled 2/3rds of the requirements, and I'm pretty sure no one suspects anything about my sexuality. After all, in my family you can't date until you're eighteen. Most would complain, but for me the rule is like a gate keeping me free of worry.

I shouldn't have to worry, anyways. I'm the football team's quarterback, the leader of the chess club, a member of the Academic teams, and I even sponsor a fundraiser for the cause concern of the year. And even though I'm an atheist, I put on another good show by going to the only church in our twenty house town every Sunday and occasionally sing in the church choir. I suppose my 'good samaritian' behavior is my apology for being...weird.

Living a lie isn't really half as bad as it's made out to be. Sure, I always look at my feet when anyone talks to me so they can't stare me in the eyes, and I get funny looks and laughed at when I wait for everyone to leave the showers in the boy's lockerroom before going in, but it's not like I'm dying. People just assume that I'm shy. I guess I am shy, but that comes with the territory of being my type of liar. And because of how I am, people won't ever get a chance to do anything but brag about me.

People always loving bragging when they're forcefed everything they want. It makes them satisfied, and to be satisfied rarely leaves one questioning. No one but fools-in-love are willing to not believe what is is they desire to hear when they're giving it on a daily basis. Hopefully, they'll continue to be fed it. I'm not sure if my secret will ever get out, and if it does I'll probably kill myself. I realize that just makes me sound like your average, overdramatic teenager, but it really isn't as overdramatic as it seems.

The last and only open gay in this town was stripped naked, spray painted blue, removed of his body hair, blindfolded, and ducttaped to the large black churchbell for anyone going through our town to see. He was unconscious when the cops had come, and the only thing our town newspaper had to say about it was a jovial paragraph about the removal of the impure. Impure...

I'm not sure if he'd died or not, but it seemed like it by how excited the whole town seemed to be afterwards. I had wanted to help him out when he was attacked, but I ended up being dragged into being one of his attackers. I'm a hypocrite, and I could of killed somone, ... but it was him or us.

To even remotely think of helping the impure and let it be known would mean a severe beating, and occasionally even worse treatment. Those that were caught trying to help the man were able to be picked from the crowd at church the next day only because most of them were fairly busted up. But to miss church for such a reason would be a dangerous mistake to make.

If they had, one of the extremists of the town would of been more than happy to do more than break a few bones. Why? Because everyone in this town must conform, or brutality is instilled. What's, in my opinion, fairly ironic is that the only judge in the county is my next door neighbor, and he generally can be found overlooking any hate crime that occurs in the little 'heaven' called Angel's Eyes.

It doesn't help my nerves any when they has my little sister Elizabeth spy on me. I always get the chills around both her and him. He just looks at me like he can read me, like he knows my every secret, and always driving me near tears. But I can't cry. No, boys don't cry. Not in Angel's Eyes.

He's looking at me that way right now, though, and I can feel my eyes stinging. Like a small child, I reach out and grip my mother's hand. She clearly doesn't understand that I'm frightened, (because there's no way her brilliant son could possibly know fear), and I don't expect her to. After all, she knew nothing about me, just like every other zombie. But her warm, innocent smile calmed me as she looked over at the judge. He instantly smiled in return and waved as if he hadn't been casting me any sort of dirty look a minute ago. He was as fake as I was.

"Well, good morning, Annabella! And hello to you, too, Julian! How are my favorite gossips today?" He grinned, but only I seemed to sense the malice in it. "Causing trouble, I assume!" His tone in my mother's eyes was always joking. His tone in my eyes were words of condemnation. I squeezed her hand tighter and simply bowed my head to the murderous judge.

Though I had just become content with the sight of my black dress shoes, my mother elbowed me in the ribs. That was always her way of reminding me of her rule that 'a boy of proper character can always look someone in the eyes!' But I wasn't of proper character, so I didn't look up yet. Because of such I felt my mother wrench her hand from mine.

She was abandoning me...

I suddenly felt helpless under the cutting stare, so I looked up in submission the hate-filled eyes of Judge Thomson. I had to conform. I had to be normal. I could manage that, couldn't I?

Not on my own...

I bit the tip of my tongue through closed lips and as our eyes hit one anothers. They screamed at me evilly and I felt tears come to my eyes again as I tried to speak. "I-I.. don't...f-feel well. C-can I go lay down? Please?" I could tell that I was begging, but frankly I didn't care. I desperately needed to be get away from the hateful stare that told me of my impurities, that told me I was defected, and that would die because of him one day.

My mother took another step against me, put her hand upon my shoulder and holding me where I was. Apparently she had decided that I was not going anywhere. I grew tense under her touch as the judge began to speak and my pulse began to rise. "Well," he laughed as he were good friends. "I hope you're not getting sick, Julie. That'd be a right shame. But even if you are, there's still a couple weeks before your birthday, so you won't be sick then." I could feel something abnormal in his tone. He was up to something...again.

My mother gave a small laugh and bowed her head backwards, sending a sea of blond curls through the air as she gave an award-winning smile that we'd both seemed to share. "Oh! That's right! Silly me, I'm so sorry, Mr. Thomson! I completely forgot to tell him!" So my mother was in on something, too? She really did hate me, I could just feel it. I narrowed my eyes and idly patted down my short blond hair that I always kept gelled forward. My hair crunched under the pressure, just like how my heart was crunching beneath my ribs.

I couldn't bring myself to ask what they were up to, but to my dismay Judge Thomson answered the unspoken of his own freewill. His freewill never being something that seemed to work in my favor. I was at least thankful to get a chance to know what they were scheming even if the thought of the judge choking on his own tongue and dying flashed through my skull.

"Your father and I were talking and since you're almost seventeen now, we arranged for you and my Cathy to go on a date! I know sixteen is a young age for dating to your family, but since it's my daughter and you being such a responsible young boy, an exception has been made. She's absolutely crazy for you." One thought came to my mind: Barf and run away.

Cathy was the type of woman even a straight guy or lesbian wouldn't want to date. She was massively overweight, stuck-up, and literally drooled all over herself when she attempted a basic act like speaking using her small brain. She was treated with immense respect only for her family background, like a mafia princess. Her dad is powerful, and can kill you... So respect is a good thing to give, but most people would give that and that alone to her.

I glanced at my mother helplessly, feeling like a worm that had been half-way cut through and was about to be given the final slice. Cathy. He wanted me to go on a date with his daughter! I'd rather have a fatal illness. But, I have to be a conforming little resident, so I have to agree. "O-oh. That sounds...fun. I'd be delighted, sir..."

Please someone strike me down and kill me! Oh wait...my fear of that actually happening was the only thing keeping me from not agreeing to date her in the first place! Tough choices...

I put on a brave smile. I had to be a good boy. I was sweet, considerate Julian Gray Niasmith. My life and this situation were not mine to control. "D-does she already know?" He cast me a devilish smile that made me think of a tiger about to pounce and slipped his arms over my shoulders to pull me against him, playing the move off as if it were a fatherly gesture. My mother just dumbly smiled like the evil blonde she was. I squeaked and cringed at the thought of the action he'd just done. He was treating me like I was a friend of his or even a son. It was disgusting.

But the hospitality seemed to stop at the gesture alone as he leaned in and whispered into my ear, just low enough that my dazed mother didn't seem to hear. "I already know your secret, you little shit, so unless you want a fun run about with a town mob... you'll ask her out. You're going to become pure if it kills you, you little impure faggot."

The color faded from my face and I nodded my head quickly from the fear. My heart felt like it was going to burst, my eyes like I was going to cry, and my knees told me they didn't want to hold up my impure ...faggot...body anymore. I'd of found her and asked her out right then and there, if I was capable of talking. I shrugged his arm off of my shoulders and practically ran on wobbling knees to my mother's arm, latching on it as if she were to help me. But this was her fault to...

I tugged on her arm, as gently as I could pushing her towards the car as a reminder that we had not stepped out of the house for nothing, even if I couldn't remember why we'd stepped out. She finally seemed to notice my discomfort after what felt like hours but was really just a minute and nodded her head to Judge Thomson. "Well, I'm sorry to cut this short, sir, but Julie and I need to go shopping. He needs a new set of sweaters. As you could tell he's already worn out his newer ones, and I'd knit them for him myself but he just grows like a bean stalk! He'll be a story tall before we know it! Besides," she added in with what I felt was the most treacherous wink to ever occur in history. "He'll need to look good for his date! Good day!"

He seemed to bow slightly as he grinned. "God bless, Mrs. Niasmith." He said the comment simply to her with reason. There's no point in the blessing the impure. He cast me a warning look before continuing his work in the lawn that he had been doing before noticing our arrival. I went up to the car, opening my mother's door for her and waiting until she got in before I closed it. I went over to my own side as sat down, strapping myself in with the seatbelt.

Mother turned on the radio to a Christian rock station, it being the only type of music we could compromise with. "Julian,..." she said with a distant tone over the radio that seemed to feel as if it were a million miles away. I pressed my reddened face against the cool window, suddenly becoming far more interested in a field of soybeans than the usual person. She simply sighed and continued. "What did Judge Thomson say to you? I could of swore I heard him call you a ...well.... a faggot." She whispered the last words as they were impure to say, and according to everyone I've known...they are impure.

I simply glared out the window. How was I going to explain this? I found it was easier to glare at the soybean plants than my mother, and I didn't know what to say. We road for awhile in pure silence for a bit, the tension rising to a point beyond control and so I spoke. "H-he just...was being your average dad, I g-guess. He s-said that if I broke Ca--his daughter's heart, I'd be d-dead. And he didn't say...faggot... he said... 'don't forget'. T-there's no reason a-anyone would call me that."

I can think of a good reason, because you are! You're going to die a slow painful death and alone! screamed my reflection in words my mother couldn't hear. "Oh..." she said letting her voice drop as she turned up the music. To my inconvience the song playing was about telling the truth. Why was it a radio always found a way of playing the wrong song...at the wrong time? The words trapped me in a cell for a moment, letting hateful images of what would happen when my secret was fully discovered fill my head and causing me to snap the radio off.

My mother tried to ligthen the mood my laughing slightly, casting a smile in my direction. "I thought you liked that song, sweetie." She cooly said, giving me a smile that was so warm my tears felt on fire and finally began to let tears melt down my cheeks with her sitting there...for the first time in years.

She looked completely surprised and even pulled over the car, reaching over and pulling me across the seat and into her arms. I cried into her chest, her arms wrapped around me and comfortingly massing my back as I shook. She cooed into my ear, calming me slowly but surely. "Sweetie, what's wrong? I mean, I know dating can be hard for a teenager, but I'm sure you don't have to worry about Thomson. He's a sweetheart, really. I'm sure he was just joking!"

She's so stupid, but I love her to death. I realized she wasn't going to piece together anything on her own. I started to shake again and cried harder, moving to stare into her eyes in hopes, for the first time ever, that someone would figure out my secret. I needed someone to understand me, and to really love me. But I won't ever be getting that from her. She was forever as fake as myself.

"I-Mom," I mumbled under my breath when she didn't say anything, brining my hand up to wipe my eyes. "I love you." I sniffled the words out as my face began to feel so hot that I was sure my tears were going to boil against my face. She smiled and rubbed on my shoulder as I moved back to my seat, pressing my face back against the cold glass of the window.

"I love you, too, my Julian Gray. And don't you forget it!" What a liar.

My eyes became focused upon the mirror next to the car. My dark green eyes almost looked as if they were going to swell shut with how puffy and pink they'd become. The pink of my cheeks matching but mingling with the raccoon-like mask from the many nights I whimpered into my pillow unable to sleep. I poked at them, rubbing them furiously, but still sniffling and feeling like an ashamed little kid. I had to tell her, but if I was going to tell her then I refused to cry again. I had to look strong. "M-mom," I shuddered as I spoke. "If I had a bad secret to tell you, you wouldn't hate me would you?"

She arched and eyebrow and shook her head 'no' as she turned the keys and started the car once more. "Promise?" I didn't believe her. She'd hate me. She already did. I just knew it. She furrowed her eyebrows and her lips tightened as she pulled me against her with one hand.

"You listen here, Julian," I could already tell I was staring to make her upset with me. "Whatever it is that's wrong with you, there's no way I'll hate you. So just tell me already." For a woman who always seemed in a daze of confusion, she sure did hate it.

I decided to lie to her, refusing to tell her anything so frightening when she was upset. "I...um..." Think, Julian! "It's ...um....well you see I kind of....already have a girlfriend!" Bad, Julian, bad! Kick yourself in the nuts another time, why don't ya? "I know... you said not until I'm eighteen. B-blame it on hormones?" I attempted a fake smile and continued to rub at my eyes.

She glanced over at me, and suddenly began to laugh hysterically. I told her I broke a major house rule and she just started laughing!? "Thank goodness!" She gasped through her giggle-fit that sent me into a soaring rage. Thank goodness!? Why is it I can lie to you...and you'll always seem relieved?

"Er, yes..." I continued onward, figuring I couldn't do myself any harm. I'd already kicked myself as hard as I felt I could. "But I told Judge Thomson I'd take out Cathy. You see where the problem is?" She just continued laughing merrily, and I felt my face continue to go hot. "What's so funny!?" I didn't mean to shout, but it happened.

She wiped a string of tears from her eyes as she smiled. "Oh...oh son....it's so funny really! You don't have to worry. Just introduce him to your girlfriend and he'll get off your back...and to think he had me....he had me convinced you were gay! I can't tell you how relieved this makes me! I mean...isn't it funny, Julie? He actually had me convinced that my perfect son was...was queer!"

I blushed profusely, both angry and embarassed. I knew something had been up. I knew she'd hate the real me! "Y-yeah," I sputtered, joining her in laughter even if my was fake. "Me... a fag? Not even a chance!" I scoffed and swished my hand, reaching and turning back on the radio. If I wasn't so used to lying by now, I'd of cried right then and there. But I couldn't do that.

I just smiled in fake merriment behind my hypocrite's smile.

Just what was I getting myself into? More importantly...how does one introdcue someone to a judge that doesn't exist?!

End Chapter One

A/N: Long ...long...long! To those of you that made it this far, be a dear and review please? It's only common curtesy. I will gladly do the same and/or write a thank you email. Promise!