Summary: A $25,000 scholarship is up for grabs, but there's catch: you have to be out of the closet. As the only person brave enough to apply, Dane Stanton gets the money--even though he's straight. But life tends to become more complicated when you have to masquerade as a gay man 24-7, and the money might end up being more trouble than it's worth...

Scene One: Dane gets a Scholarship.

It was… interesting when he finally told his parents about the scholarship. They knew, just like the rest of the town, that someone had finally bagged it, but they hadn't known it was their son, the shame of it all. At first they thought it was a joke. Then they realized— you could almost see the change come over their faces, the very moment it happened— that he wasn't.

And if he had been guilty of the things they accused him of, Dane might have even felt bad about it.

His mother had tried not to sob and locked herself in her room and his father promptly disowned him. That was the short and long of it. (What really irked Dane was that he had already been accepted at his college of choice-- but it had taken him days of indecision to pick something to write his essay about, and all the tears and drama at the Stanton household that day would have just been perfect. It was just his luck the ideal situation would arrive five months too late.)

There was also the nuisance of being literally thrown out on the doorstep by his father, but the mental image of 25,000 dollars soothed that nicely. He packed his belongings when his parents left and hid his keys under a flower pot when the taxi came.

Dane stayed over at his girlfriend Suzy's house for the next week, spending his time away from the house as much as possible to keep on good terms with her parents, who had no doubt been notified by his parents, but hadn't for some reason told Suze. At the end of the second week he mentioned the scholarship to her over breakfast and was thrown out yet again. But he'd packed the night before and had called the cab before he sat down to eat, so he was able to leave immediately and avoid long, drawn-out explanations.

He had been surprised to not feel any regrets at that. Honestly. His girlfriend, and he hadn't felt even the hint of sadness at leaving her. They'd only been together four months, sure, but that was three months and three weeks longer than a lot of couples made it. And they'd never actually done it— maybe that was why she'd been so pissed. Four months later and still a virgin. Damn.

And, come to think of it, they'd never done anything beyond making out. Chances were that was why almost immediately he couldn't remember what color her eyes had been.

Before he could leave, he got a message from The Board requesting his presence at a meeting. The Board, as Dane thought of them even though they probably had a real and more professional-sounding name, was the group of stuffy politicians, teachers, and other prevalent community figureheads that had decided who received the rather large sum of 25,000 dollars. It was concerning the scholarship and they were trying to make it sound like he needed to be there for an important reason, but Dane suspected otherwise.

There was really no point in going. He had checked the paperwork over so many times it looked and felt like he hadn't taken it out of his slacks when he had gone to the Laundromat. He knew that, even if they were desperate enough to try, there was no way they could take the scholarship away from him now (short of finding him out, of course, but there was no way to prove it right now).

Whatever the case, it was to this charming get-together he found himself traveling to at 5 a.m. the Saturday before official campus move-in.

With Suzy and his parents no longer speaking to him, Dane arrived by taxi to the smallish building by himself, already beginning to sweat from outside rising temperatures. Inside, they had set up a long table with all the committee members behind it. Dane's chair wasn't behind a table, but stood alone in the middle of the room.

Dane sat, smiling at them in a friendly way.

The one Dane was most sensitive to was Dr. Gerard Giuseppe, the bearded buzzard of a man in the center of the table with the stormy grey eyes that flashed with lightning when he was angry or intrigued. He neither blinked nor looked away from Dane, as though waiting for a sign of tension or nervousness from him. Dr. Giuseppe had been, along with the mayor, one of the master crooks behind the grand joke that was the notorious Gay Scholarship.

The idea had been to make a show of offering a handsome sum to the local high schools. The trick, on the other hand, had been to at once make the town appear modern and thoughtful of it's future generation and the new ways of the world while at the same time making the qualifications so undesirable (in the view of the Board members) and possibly even devastating enough to the applicants that no one would want to claim it. This allowed the town to flaunt itself in a good light and not go bankrupt.

The scholarship asked for a recently graduated senior who was also, coincidentally, recently out of the closet and in a gossipy, strongly-traditionalist-Christian-bordering-on-white-supremist community of 3,000 souls that kind of senior was less than rare: they were nonexistent. Sure, there might have been a few secretly gay students, but between the overbearing parents and the ones who ever hoped to enter city limits without being treated like a leper, there simply were no takers. The winner of the scholarship had to, after all, have their picture taken in the paper and have an article done about them. So there was no hiding the fact of what the money was for, and after that you had this gay scholarship hanging over your head for at least four years in college, mandatory GLBTQ meetings and never being able to look your mom in the eye again— well, that's not what they told you, but everyone knew. Even if it made them look understanding and up to date, the scholarship was a social death sentence as far as the town was concerned and everyone was quite relieved when two graduating classes passed without it being claimed.

And then, as they said, there was Dane Stanton. When he'd come around to his teachers collecting recommendations the few teachers that remembered the scholarship had been shocked. The student they had known as being intelligent and an impeccable dresser— suits and slacks, though, nothing flowery— had always seemed so normal. And that's what they told anyone who asked: "But he always seemed so normal!"

Whatever the Board had been expecting the first time Dane had come before them, it had not been the slender, dark-haired young man who had sat so still, smiled so charmingly and wore pinstripes and shiny black shoes even on the hottest day in June when most of the Board members had on tank-tops and Bermuda shorts.

The only one who had come close to matching Dane in dress that day had been Dr. Giuseppe. When they'd caught each others' eye it had almost felt like a shared joke between them.

So a couple months later, on a similarly hot day, Dane arrived expecting more of the same from them. He watched them watching him, maybe trying to spot the gayness on him, that same young man with the clear, dark eyes and carelessly untidy hair that wasn't really careless, because there was nothing about his appearance that thought hadn't gone into. From the form-hugging black suit to the way he sat in the chair, it really came down to the way he wore it all that made it appear careless. They thought it was the homosexual flare, and it was probably the thing that let him get away with it, Dane thought. Their stupid beliefs of what gay should be was what was really costing them so much.

Because, really, the joke— the real one— the one Dane suspected Dr. Giuseppe had guessed, was the one that kept him smiling. The joke, the one Dane was playing on the Board, was that he was not gay.

The meeting began and Dane put on his best show of manners, nodding and responding when it was asked of him. He paid attention to how Dr. Giuseppe reacted to certain questions, and kept up his form. After a while, he stopped bothering with the rest of them. Miranda Offenbach, for instance… well, she was just a nuisance. He had thought the first time he sat in the chair that she was one of the ones to impress. She was a middle-aged woman with spidery but expensively manicured hands and thick-rimmed pink glasses that obscured her eyes. She was THE Miranda Offenbach, from what he'd picked up on the grapevine, but for his own experiences Dane could only muster a kind of bored distaste for the woman. Along with her severe hairdo (laced with premature grey), she smiled too much and had a habit of always being cheerful and wearing colorful shoes that annoyed the hell out of him.

And she had to be the only one in the room who wasn't in on at least one joke, and it was almost painful to watch her boundless enthusiasm in contrast to the dark shadow of financial debt hovering over the rest of them. Or it would have been painful if Dane hadn't been enjoying it so much.

They seemed to be trying to find a reason for him to think twice. Did he know he had to have an article about him in the paper? Was he aware of the mandatory GLBTQ meetings he needed to attend for the scholarship to remain active? And so on and so forth and the rest and the like?

"We will want to see reports," said Miranda Offenbach.

Dane inclined his head slowly. "Reports," he said.

"Yes. You know, to see how you're doing. We'll need one at least once a month. Nothing big, just write them on how the meetings are progressing."

Progressing…? Dane thought dryly, but said nothing.

Ms. Offenbach consulted a piece of paper. "One last thing. We've changed your roommate to someone like you. I hope you don't mind."

Only… a lot. He leaned forward in his chair. "That's amazing. I didn't know you could even do that."

"Well, I never said it was easy!" The woman chuckled. "But we came to an understanding with the university and your former to-be roommate has been informed. Everything's taken care of."

"This switching around wasn't outlined in the paperwork."

"Actually," Dr. Giuseppe said, and the table went immediately still, "I think you'll find it is." He held a stack of papers out towards Dane. "Here's a copy."

Dane felt a twinge of panic. He made no move towards the paper. "But why? I really don't remember anything about that in the paperwork I was given," he said, stressing the last part only a little. "I mean, why?"

"Why?" said Miranda Offenbach. Her eyebrows rose. "To help you adjust to your new way of life. You're not going to be living in a small town anymore. We think someone who knows the ropes being handy will help you cope."

Was she kidding? Even as a straight man, Dane was faintly disgusted. "I'm sorry?" he said in a pleasant voice. Maybe it was time for a new strategy. "I mean, don't you think it would be inappropriate?"

Ms. Offenbach frowned, genuinely confused. Her colleagues had the decency to look embarrassed for her.

"What would be inappropriate, Mr. Stanton?" she said. "Wouldn't you be glad to have someone like yourself so handy so that you could benefit from their experience? It can't be easy being so newly out of the closet."

Dane stared. It was like listening to a badly disguised porno. God. And she's probably looked up "out of the closet" only this morning. "I thought that's what the meetings were for," he said.

"Yes, well…"

"And I thought it would go against the logic of why colleges generally dorm and girls separately…" He let it hang, waited for her to fill in the gaps. He'd heard of colleges doing housing floors based on what Miranda Offenbach referred to as "Different Lifestyle Choices", but maybe the Board didn't know that, and if there was a any way out of this…

Now her brow pinched together and she tried glancing at the man to her right for assistance. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little clearer, Mr. Stanton."

He held his hands in front of him. "Sex?" he said, sounding exasperated. "Anyone heard of it? They don't put girls and boys in the same room because they could have sex, right? Because they shouldn't have to feel pressured in any way? Do you see how it could be possibly the same with two gay men?" Miranda Offenbach's face remained blank. Dane took a breath: "Do you see where I'm coming from with any of this, Ms. Offenbach?"

She suddenly laughed. "Oh, we're all quite sure you'll make responsible choices, Mr. Stanton. Besides, think of how your roommate would feel if he was heterosexual. He shouldn't have to feel pressured either, should he? Besides, it's better to keep you together, don't you think?"

Dane almost laughed. "Keeping us together?" he said in a light, conversational tone. "If someone didn't know you had my best interests in mind, they might think you were purposely doing this for the wrong reasons."

Ms. Offenbach tapped a pencil on the desk. "How exactly do you mean?" she asked, hopefully getting nervous.

"You don't want people thinking this committee is sexist, do you?"

"Doesn't sexist only apply to gender, though?" she said in a small, pleading voice.

Dane continued: "You don't want people thinking you're running some kind of concentration camp do you? Should I also have some sort of bus pass that only lets me sit in the back? Wear a card around my neck that lets people know in case they might catch it—?"

A loud bang made everyone jump. Faces turned to Dr. Giuseppe, who put the book he'd slammed on the desk back on its pile. "The Nazis did not pay their victims $25,000 a year to help them through their college education," he said gravely, face set in its permanent scowl. "And if you wish to boycott I suggest you leave now, although you will be leaving without your scholarship. The committee will now be move on and do try not to sulk, Mr. Stanton. We still have another hours' worth of material to get through."

Dane slipped his composure back on. He was consciously aware that he was more than a little angry. Rooming with gay men. For four years. Christ. If he listened carefully, he could almost hear the sound of all traces of his straight life whipping out the window. With a straight roommate he could've at least kept his foot in the door, so to speak. Now he was going to have trouble fooling even his roommate.

"Dane?" said Ms. Offenbach.

Dr. Giuseppe was watching him intently, waiting for a reaction. Dane smiled. "Roommate situation, no problem. Do whatever you think is best."

"Great!" said Miranda Offenbach to the collective eye-roll of the rest of the Board.

It seemed silly to have a reception afterwards, what with the entire Board to a person or two hating his guts for daring to go through with it, but the person who was oblivious was Miranda Offenbach and her job title had some kind of name like "Human Relations" so she had gotten a couple of veggie and cracker platters for the occasion and everybody was too embarrassed just to leave.

Most of the Board avoided him, but that was all right with Dane. He stood by the window overlooking the heat-wilted back garden as he waited for his taxi. The last taxi he would take in this town, to go get his luggage, before his Greyhound bus departed to take him away this hellish settlement. He was loosening his tie when Dr. Giuseppe came to stand beside him.

"You know," said the doctor, "back in the day they called a man who preyed on women a wolf."

"But I'm not interested or attracted to women so I don't know why you're even brining it up," said Dane.

"There are different kinds of preying than just sexually. You really think you're something, don't you, kid? Speaking of Nazis and preying on the weak— you almost set Miranda into a nervous breakdown."

"I'm… sorry. I don't think I follow. And are you calling me a Nazi? You do realize gay Nazi is an oxymoron, right?"

"That was not the reason I came over to talk to you. We're both intelligent men of the world, Mr. Stanton. We both know and recognize others like us and we know when others are… not like us."

Dane looked over. "I'll just go out on a limb here and assume you're not talking about orientation."

"No, I'm not."

"Right. In that case, it all sounds very dramatic and well-rehearsed, but—"

Dr. Giuseppe glared out the window. "You know that scholarship wasn't meant to be taken seriously. I wouldn't have to know another thing about you besides that you grew up here and you took this scholarship to know you're a crook."

"Really? How funny. Most people would have assumed that I was homosexual. Or suicidal. But you say crook, huh? Guess it takes one to know one," said Dane, lowering his voice.

"Are you admitting you're a crook?"

"I'm saying your criminal sixth sense doesn't just condemn me."

"Such was the reason for my 'well-rehearsed' introduction," Dr. Giuseppe sighed. "We tried to be clever and above the system and it got us in the end…"

"Speaking of Nazis," Dane muttered.

"Shut up. If you think you can do the same and get away with it you're a fool. You realize you'll be ostracized by the entire community, don't you?"

"I figured them paying around 100,000 dollars total for my four-year college education was a fair trade."

Dr. Giuseppe gave him a stern look over his glasses. "Are you really… that way?"

"Of course," said Dane evenly. "If I wasn't, this would be illegal."

"But of course you'd say that even if you weren't." The doctor took out a gold cigar holder from his inside pocket, chose a cigar, and commenced to light it. "Oh well. At least that queer roommate situation sounds like fun."

Dane clenched his jaw. "It doesn't bother me."

"Sure, kid. Whatever. Say, didn't you have a girl here just a while back?"

"We're not together anymore, obviously."

"What? Just like that? But you've been together for months. There isn't anything—"

Dane looked over, flipping his head to get the hair out of his face. "No. Don't think there's some sugar-coated way to deal with that, because there's not. I'm gay. She's a girl. End of story. What would you have had me do? Lie?"

"She could have understood. You could have been friends."

"In this town? Are you kidding?"

Dr. Giuseppe lowered his eyelids. "What color were her eyes, Dane?"

"What?" Dane was back to looking out the window. "I don't know. Brown? What does it matter?" he said more sharply than he'd meant to.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Giuseppe sighed. "And how about the other women in your life? How's my daughter?"

"Went into her room and cried."

"And my son-in-law?"

"Threw me out."

Dr. Giuseppe chuckled. Rich blue smoke spilled from his mouth. "No last teary goodbyes before you took off, I take it?"

Dane shrugged. "It's been a couple of weeks since they found out, so he's probably gotten a restraining order by now."

To this Giuseppe did not laugh. He nodded solemnly. "When you skipping town?"

Dane closed his eyes and sighed. "Tonight. Now that I've got the money secured there isn't anything here to stay for. Except Grandma's excellent cooking, I mean," he said, catching the doctor's look.

"I'm sure the scam business you're running picks up like hell over the holidays, so I won't ask you to come home."

Dane smiled on the side of his face his grandfather couldn't see. "I'll come and visit if you want."

"I'm not asking."

There was something about the way he said it that made Dane check over his shoulder. "Do they think me liking men is somehow part of your master plot? They're not saying you planned this whole thing with your grandson's college fund in mind from the very beginning are they?"

Dr. Giuseppe shrugged. "Who's to say? I've done better as far as master plots, that's for sure, but that's politics for you. You look sharp, kid," he said at the door. "Better now that your mother's not dressing you."

Dane smiled. "Or could it be my natural sense of fashion brought on by my love for my fellow man?"

"Shut up, Dane," said Dr. Giuseppe with a sigh. "Go get your education and keep your head down. Try not to get raped."

Dane raised an eyebrow. "You are aware I'm going to college, not prison, yes?"

"Whatever. Geddoutta here. I'm sick of looking at you. Try not to lose all your money on card games. I know you're the best in this town, but in the city there's bound to be someone better."

"Love you, too," Dane mumbled under a smile as he stepped outside. The heat came at him like a wave, going through him the moment he left the air-conditioning behind.

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A/N: Since nothing else seemed to be working out (sigh I hate my lame excuses) I thought I'd at least get something up this month, and then I missed that, too SIGH

It's the first new story other than the old stuff that I've put up since I got here… change is good, I guess, but I'll leave that mostly up to you guys to decide. Tell me what you think! I love hearing what you think. Even if it's bad. Because it has a decided lack of musical instruments in it. Ugh. Come on, people—don't tell me I'm the only one who's sick of only seeing two stories in my account :D ... or not… ..