Chapter One: Depression Has Nothing To Do With Bouncy White Dumplings

AN: This is my new story, and the first I've written outside of my Colours series in a long, long time. I actually counted and when I'm done with that series it will be twelve stories long. ::sweatdrop::

But I digress. Anyway, because I'm a dork, I'll tell you what music I'm listening to. It's "All That I've Got" by The Used.


I guess to most people I seem like a creampuff. I fall directly into the spoiled little rich pretty boy stereotype. My real name is Maverick Bender, but my friends call me Blender. Yes, they're very clever. Mostly my boarding school's resident fag hag, Taylor Nokes. We call Taylor a fag hag even though he's a boy because he's so straight it's not even funny, but he likes to meddle in everyone's love lives (and it's an all-boy's school, use your imagination) and play matchmaker.

A few things you've gotta know about me and my school: First, I am not gay, I'm bi-curious. Get it straight. Second, my school, while it does cater to the sons of senators and prominent lawyers and doctors and all that bullshit, is still located in the US. So get all of the visions of a cozy little school nestled in the Alps out of your head. This school is located in New York City, babe.

Third, since it's something you will all probably wonder about at some point, I have feathered brown hair (think Luke Skywalker meets William Beckett) and hazel eyes. Yep, boys like me are a dime a dozen. I'm seventeen years old, all of five-foot-eleven and a half, thank you, one hundred and fifty pounds. Yeah, my mother constantly complains that I resemble that demented skeleton from a Burton movie. Her fault for sewing shoulder pads in my uniform jacket.

Fourth, I am a Senator's son, but I'm an illegitimate. My mom and the Senator struck up a deal when I was born. He would supply everything I need to live comfortably; he would pay for my education (only the best for the Senator's bastard), healthcare, and everything else until I got out of college. In exchange, neither my mother nor I was supposed to tell who my father was. If we did, all of the support would stop.

And lastly, I don't like people as a general rule, but the ones that I do like, I get along with very well. Other people I just kind of tolerate.

Anyway, like I said, I go to this prestigious boarding school in New York. It's not cute or charming or anything like the gingerbread dorms of the movies. It's modern, a skyscraper of sorts, seventeen stories tall. The top six stories designated as the resident halls. Each year is confined to one floor, from the bottom up. James Thurber Academy houses students in grades seven to twelve. The other eleven floors are faculty quarters, administrative offices, classrooms, and lecture halls. The gym and auditorium take up a whole floor, and the cafeteria is arranged like a food court in the second floor. The library is underground, in the first and second basements.

The curriculum is pretty basic, but JTA is famous for its art programs as well. Tuition is through the roof, of course. But who cares? It's the Senator's money. I just go there.

Enrollment is down so we all have our own rooms, but we never really sleep in them. The resident halls are arranged in a large square, the rooms along the outside, sixty rooms total on each floor with the capacity to hold one hundred and twenty students per year. The elevator and staircase are in one corner and the entire center of the floor is the common area. We're all usually in there studying or goofing off until late hours and then we just kind of sleep where we fall. Most of us had roommates for at least five years so we have trouble sleeping in an empty room.

Except for the gay guys, of course. They're more than happy to disappear to their rooms.


"It was a brilliant movie."

"It was a waste of film."

"You just don't appreciate the humor."

"What humor? It was a movie about a socially-challenged buffoon running around for an agonizing two hours."

It was moments like this that I felt like bashing my head against the cafeteria table. Taylor was arguing on the side of Napoleon Dynamite, accentuating random words by poking his chopsticks at Dylan Jones.

Taylor and Dylan were complete opposites, and they disagreed on literally everything. Except for the fact that they always disagreed. They were opposites physically as well. Taylor was tall, all-American, with blonde hair and steel eyes. He was muscular and enjoyed flaunting it, wearing tight tee shirts and, up in the dorm, no shirt at all at times. Taylor was loud and opinionated, and stubborn as a mule.

Dylan was African-American, a little on the short side with a bit of baby fat that he apparently never managed to lose. He had a sincere smile and liked just about everyone. He was just as opinionated as Taylor, but he did at least listen to other people's views as well.

Taylor rolled his eyes, eager to insert his opinion where it wasn't necessarily needed.

"Yeah well that buffoon is probably up to his neck in women right now."

"Hey, I'm gay, remember?" Dylan pointed out and Taylor shrugged.

"So what? If I were gay I would totally do him."

"And that's why you're not gay. I doubt even the GLSA would take you."

"Ouch. That hurt." Taylor shook his head sadly, holding his hand to his chest. I don't think he realized that he was guarding the wrong side of his chest.

"Whatever, just eat your chicken and shut up."

"Just because you're cranky doesn't mean you can take it out on me or Napoleon, you vegan."

"It's not my fault you're poisoning your body with the flesh of another living thing."

"It's not living anymore, see?" Taylor stuck his tongue out to show a large amount of half-chewed General Tsao's chicken.

"That is so gross, Tay," I said. Dylan nodded.

"It must me a straight guy thing," he muttered. Taylor shrugged and went back to eating.

"It confuses me that anyone would be gay when JAA is just down the street. Now that is some prime examples of erotica."

"Eh, too many boobs, too few dicks," Dylan said.

"Although there is an exception to that rule. Just look at Rhonda Burket," Taylor said.

"That's harsh, Tay."

"But true."

"Well, yeah…"

Jane Austen Academy was the sister school to JTA and was located on the other corner of Woodlyn Avenue. It was a twin building and housed all of the daughters of the aforementioned senators, lawyers, and doctors. And they were some of the biggest sluts in the known universe. I guess being cooped up with a bunch of other chicks can do that to you. Because from what I hear girls don't go all insane and fuck the first thing that moves if they're isolated for too long.

"I wouldn't go near any of those whores with a ten-foot pole," I said, shaking my head. "They're walking STD zoos."

"Yeah well you don't count. You're gay," Taylor said.

"Dude, I'm not gay. I'm bi-curious."

"Whatever, you still fuck guys."

"No, I blew a guy. Once."

"And you liked it."

"Well, yeah. But I've only fucked girls."

The bell rang to signal us to go to our fourth hour.

"To Chem!" Taylor announced in his would-be-gallant voice. He bounded towards the doors, fell over a trashcan, announced, "I'm okay!" and continued on through the doors.

"He's an idiot," Dylan muttered.

"Yes, but he's our idiot."


AN: Wow this is random. But no guys suddenly started screwing so there might be some hope for a plot.

Please review and let me know what you think about this story. It will determine whether or not I'll continue it or pull it altogether.

♥'s and X-Rated Thoughts—Luci-chan