Unmistakably Brothers

"Hey, Zave!" Alan called to the senior, who had just left the gym. Xavion stopped momentarily to let the sophomore catch up, then the two of them walked together in the direction of the dorms.

"Did Sugi get tested?" Alan asked.

Xavion frowned, keeping his eyes firmly ahead of him. "No. He sent word to the coaches that he had a cold and couldn't make practice."

"A cold?" Alan shook his head. "Sure didn't sound like it when he told me practice was canceled."

Xavion stopped in his tracks and gave Alan an unbelieving glare. "He told you what?"

Alan stopped and turned back toward the team captain. "He told me," he said succinctly, "that he had heard from you that Coach Evans had canceled practice on account of the field being too wet. Said he'd seen you when you were on your way back to the dorms."

"Damn!" Xavion stomped a foot to emphasize his frustration. "What is with him? Lying through his teeth to me, to the coaches... where did this come from?"

Alan shrugged. "I wish I knew, Zave." He frowned thoughtfully. "Though he did sorta wipe his nose when he came out of the bathroom...," he said in a hopeful tone.

The senior's eyes went wide. "Oh no. No. I hope not. I hope to heaven that's not what's going on," he said in a voice full of dread.

"What?" Alan asked, curious and concerned at the same time.

Xavion took a deep breath and composed himself. He looked at Alan, and gave him a grim smile. "Don't worry about it, Pinky. You're moving out of that room, and the coaches will see that Sugi gets tested. It'll all work out."

Alan scrutinized the taller boy, then nodded. "Okay." He glanced up as the lights came on all over campus, defining the wet mist that still fell. "I'm going to change clothes again and get into something drier."

"Me, too."

The two walked in step again, quiet for a few moments. This is as good a time as any, Alan thought. "Hey, Zave?"

"Hmm?"

"Uh, I understand you've got driving privileges and a car."

"Yeah, I do," Xavion turned his head, glancing at Alan. "You need to go to town or something?"

"Well, not exactly," Alan replied, flinching a bit. "Y'see, the academic quiz team's first meet is Friday night. It's an away game, and I was wondering... could you take me there?" He hurried to explain. "I mean, it's Fermat's first ever and I'd kinda like to be there to cheer him on."

Xavion snorted a laugh. "Quiz team meet? Never been to one of those before. Who else is on the team?"

Alan frowned, nonplussed. "I'm not really sure... other than Dev Israni; he's the team captain." He gave Xavion a hopeful look. "I can find out."

"Friday night?" The senior sounded thoughtful. "Where is it?"

Alan's heart sank. "I don't know that either." He paused, then added, "Listen, we can ask Fermat at dinner. I know he'll have the details."

"Okay, you ask him at dinner. I want more information before I commit myself and my car to an off-campus trek of any distance. I'm not from around here, y'know." He glanced at Alan. "When do you need a decision?"

"Sometime tomorrow," Alan replied. "My dad's got to send a permission, and he'll want to know who's driving. Right now I can't leave campus unless a family member is with me. Though I can go to the track meets; that's been taken care of."

"All right. I'll let you know." By this time they were at Chetwood's front door. "I'll see you at dinner, Pinky."

"See you then, Zave."

The older boy raised a hand in farewell as Alan climbed the steps two at a time. Now for some dry clothes, then hot food. Man, am I hungry!

"Whew!" Fermat walked alongside Dev Israni, headed for Maplewood. "Th-That was t-tough!"

"Indeed it was," Dev agreed, shifting Fermat's book bag to his other hand. He had offered to help the younger boy with his things since they were going in the same direction. "But now you know more what will be expected of you on Friday evening."

Fermat looked down in an effort to keep the mist off of his glasses. "I'm n-nervous about th-this. What if I s-s-s... m-make a mistake?"

"Then you make a mistake," Dev answered gently. "It is not the end of the world, my friend. Win or lose, if you do your best, it is all we can ask."

"Still," Fermat said with a wry smile, "it would b-be embarrassing."

"True, but only to yourself." Dev smiled wearily. "Few people come to our meets. They are more interested in the sports programs."

"Well, th-that might change," Fermat replied, a smile playing around his lips. "Alan wants to c-come, and if he does, others m-might."

"How would he get there?" Devdan asked, frowning. "We usually take a school van, and with the equipment, there will be no room for spectators."

"He's going to ask Z-Zave Lewis to d-d-d... provide transportation."

"Hmm. That would be indeed interesting, especially if Mr. Lewis himself stayed to watch." Dev shifted the book bag again. "To have a top athlete show interest in our little competition might bring a greater spotlight on it."

"M-My dad is c-coming to our second m-meet," Fermat added. "With M-Mr. Tracy. I'm sure that A-Alan will come to that one t-too."

"Then you must put forth an extraordinary effort," Devdan said, patting Fermat on the back. "As I know you can."

Fermat shrugged in a self-deprecating way, smiling. It feels good to belong to something special.

"So, has anyone spoken to the sprout since the rescue?" Scott said as he joined the family around the pool.

"I did," Jeff replied. "He knows that we're all right. I gave him permission to check out the tertiary drive as long as Fermat's roommate isn't around. All the logs are there."

"Still, he'd probably appreciate a call from one or more of us," Virgil said. He checked his watch. "It's what? Five thirty there? Sounds like a good time to call."

"If he's not on his way to dinner," Gordon chimed in from the pool's warm waters.

"Or at track practice," Jeff added. He rose from his lounger. "I need to get some work done in my office. You can give him a call, Scott, then update your maintenance and flight logs. I noticed that you were the only one that hadn't."

"Yes, sir," Scott said, stifling a sigh. He watched as Jeff walked off, and when his father was out of earshot, he moaned, "I hate paperwork."

Virgil grinned as he got up from his chair. "I'd think you'd be used to it from the Air Force and all."

Scott directed a scowl in his brother's direction. "I hated it there, too," he grumbled. "I guess I'd better make that call, then get cracking on those logs." He turned to his brothers. "You want in on the call?"

"Sure!" Virgil said as he jumped in the pool, too near to Gordon for the latter's comfort.

"Hey! Quit that!" Gordon cried, giving Virgil a shove, throwing his elder brother off balance and backwards into the water. He glanced up at Scott. "Yeah, I'd like to talk to Alan, too."

"All right. I'll go get my phone." With that, Scott stood and hurried into the house. That left Virgil and Gordon together in the pool. Gordon eyed Virgil with a suspicious squint, while Virgil returned the scrutiny with a cheeky smile and a raised eyebrow. That eyebrow slowly descended as a slow, smug smile spread over Gordon's face. His eyes flicked briefly to something – or someone – over Virgil's left shoulder. Virgil tried to decide whether or not to turn; he hadn't seen Scott come out again, or Jeff for that matter, but there were other ways to the pool that could have bypassed his vision. Now he was the one with the suspicious squint, and Gordon wore the smile, more a calculating expression than an outright smirk.

Gordon's eyes flicked away again, and Virgil could stand it no longer. He turned at the waist to look behind him, and that's when three things happened in rapid, dizzying succession. Gordon grabbed the waistband of Virgil's trunks, pulling them sharply down and towards him, knocking Virgil off his feet and under the surface. The trunks slid off with another strong tug and, with his brother's swimsuit firmly in hand, the younger man beat a hasty retreat to the side of the pool. He hauled himself onto the patio as his victim came back up, sputtering both water and curses.

"Gordon, you are dead meat!" Virgil cried, pushing his hair back with a hand. "Give me back my trunks!"

"Come and get 'em!" Gordon teased, moving away from the pool's edge, out of his irate brother's reach. He held the swim wear up with both hands, and looked at them critically. "Virge, you are seriously deficient in taste!"

Virgil took a quick look around, then hefted his naked form out of the water. Gordon stepped back, then glanced toward the house and waved. "Oh, hi, Onaha!"

"Augh!" Virgil turned speedily and dove back into the pool. When he surfaced again, Gordon was pointing at him and laughing heartily.

"Gotcha!" he crowed. His brother surveyed the area from the protective waters; Onaha was nowhere to be seen.

"Why you..." Virgil swam over to the side of the pool, and started to climb out again. Gordon danced backwards, laughing and waving the swimsuit... only to back up into the newly returned Scott.

"Here, Virge! Catch!" Scott snatched the trunks from Gordon's hand and threw them to their owner, who caught them, grinning widely. Gordon, always one for self-preservation, took off, skirting the rounded edge between the upper and lower pools, trying to avoid knocking over the decorative plants Kyrano had placed there.

Scott gleefully followed, while a now-decently clothed Virgil pulled himself from the water in front of Gordon. With his attention given to the potted greenery, Gordon failed to notice the pincer movement until it was too late... and his laughing brothers had thrown him bodily into the pool!

"Gotcha!" Virgil shouted triumphantly as Gordon surfaced, scrubbing the water from his face.

"Okay, you got me," the younger brother replied grumpily. "I'll even the score later, with both of you!"

Scott grinned and rounded the pool again to the little table where he'd left his phone. Virgil joined him, grabbing a towel, and tousling his hair to a spiky semblance of dryness. Gordon climbed out of the pool and took a towel to wipe the water from his face and hair. While the damp duo was trying to look more or less presentable, Scott set his phone up with an external speaker, then speed-dialed Alan's number and waited for an answer.

Alan had just put on his jacket again when he heard the jangling sound of an old novelty song, "Into The Air, Junior Birdmen", coming from his desk drawer. He grinned, unlocked the drawer and pulled out his phone. Selecting "voice only", he put it up to his ear. "Hey, Scott!"

"Hey, Sprout!" Scott replied. "How come no picture?"

"I'm on my way to dinner and it's kinda rainy," he said, pulling up his jacket's hood as he left his room. "The phone's safer under my hood."

"Oh, okay."

Alan jogged down the dorm's front steps and into the wet, misty twilight. His grin widened as he heard two other voices calling out greetings from the background. "Hey, Alan!" "What's new, Sprout?"

"It's good to hear you guys! What have you been up to?" he called. "And don't call me 'Sprout'," he added as an afterthought.

"Oh, you know," Scott said airily. "Same old, same old. Lounging around the pool..."

"Removing Virgil's trunks..." Gordon cut in.

"Rescuing fair damsels..." Virgil added, too quickly for Gordon's reply to have registered.

"We didn't do that, Virge; Dad did," Scott clarified.

"Dad did what?" Alan asked, trying to untangle his brothers' conversation. He put a hand in his jacket pocket as he strolled in the direction of the dining hall.

"Rescued a fair damsel... well, I didn't get a good look at her but she was a damsel anyway," Scott amended. "And he got an – ahem - appropriate reward."

"Ooooh!" said the other two boys, turning toward each other, their eyes getting comically big. Alan could imagine their reaction, and he laughed at the image.

"Dad told me a little about what happened, but not about any reward," he said, his voice somewhat wistful. "What kind of reward are we talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the standard 'damsel in distress' type reward," Scott replied blandly.

Alan blinked. "She gave him... sex?"

"No!" Scott snorted in derision. Alan could hear Gordon and Virgil howling with laughter in the background. "Sex! What kinds of fairy tales did you read? She kissed him!"

"Ohh!" Alan replied, nodding his head and trying to sound wise. "I see. So, she kissed him." He shrugged, not remembering that his brothers couldn't see it. "What's the big deal about that?"

"Well, this is Dad we're talking about here, Sprout," Scott went on to say. "Not the blushingly handsome pilot of Thunderbird One, or the dashingly debonair driver of Thunderbird Two. Or even the fairly passable helmsman of Thunderbird Three... oh, excuse me, it was Four on this occasion." He paused for breath. "This was Dad. The old man. The guy we're giving gray hairs."

"Hey, cut him some slack, Scott." Alan could hear Gordon in the background. "He's got the luscious Lady P. on a string. There's got to be something in the old man yet."

"And I'm sure that Lady P. will have a word or two to say when she hears about this 'reward' business," Virgil chimed in.

Alan felt a little jab of something, a tiny flare of anger and a feeling of unfairness when it came to his father and Lady Penelope. But he swallowed it and, hoping his voice didn't betray him, said, "Aw, Lady P. will be okay with it. She's cool."

"That's what Dad said, Sprout," Scott explained. "I'd like to be a fly on the wall..."

"You'd probably get swatted," Alan riposted, "whether you were a fly or not!" He looked up to find himself in the lobby of the dining hall. His legs, as if on autopilot, had taken him there. "Hey, guys, it's time for my dinner. It's been great talking to you, and I'll catch you again later, okay?"

"Sure, Sprout," Scott replied. "Go fill your face."

"What's on the menu tonight?" Gordon asked.

Alan crossed to the board that listed the evening's choices. "Uh, beef bourguignon over noodles, Normandy blend veggies, French bread, and éclair for dessert."

"Sounds... uh... scrumptious," Virgil said in a tone that indicated he thought just the opposite.

"Ah, yes," Gordon said, reminiscing. "French night. I'd watch out for those noodles. As I remember, they've got the consistency of fire hoses!"

"Yeah, they do, don't they!" Alan laughed with his brothers, then said, "Hey! I just remembered something! Tell Dad that I got permission to change rooms! I'll be moving my stuff over on Saturday!"

"Really? What happened to your first roommate?" Scott asked.

"Did your smelly socks drive him off?" Virgil quipped.

"No, doofus." Alan rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Listen, it's too complicated to tell you about right now. I'll send you an email and explain. But make sure Dad knows, please?"

"Okay, Sprout, we will," Scott agreed. "Go eat dinner. We'll talk later."

"All right, guys. Talk to you later," Alan replied. "Bye! And stop calling me Sprout!"

At the dinner table, Alan asked Fermat about the meet between bites. "So, where is this meet of yours?"

Fermat finished swallowing his milk, then said, "In a town called Shrewsbury. There's another 'b-boys only' school there: St. J-John's. Mr. Feng s-says it will take nearly t-t-two hours to get there. We've got p-permission to skip p-part of l-last hour."

"What time will it be?" Alan sat back, a growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Five-thirty," Fermat said, sounding miserable. "You have p-practice, don't you?"

"Yeah," Alan said with a sigh. "I can't miss it, and neither can Zave." He nodded, a single, sharp head motion. "Damn! I wanted to be there!"

"Me, too!" Qaeshon added, frowning. "It would have been cool to see the Brain in action."

"I appreciate the s-sentiment, but now that I th-think about it, I'd rather there b-be as f-few witnesses as p-possible to what could be a sp-spectacular crash and burn," Fermat replied wryly. "If t-today's practice was any i-indication, we've g-got our work c-c-c... it'll be tough." He shrugged. "At l-least you c-can make it to the s-second meet. That's a 'home g-game'."

"Yeah, and both our dads will be there, too," Alan said. He put a hand on Fermat's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'm just peeved that I can't see the first one."

The sudden hush at the table surprised Alan, as did Jason's pointed glance and nod at his hand, still resting on his friend's shoulder. Fermat turned to see what the subtle fuss was about, and suddenly, both boys were aware of the possible implications from that simple, comforting gesture. Fermat's face flamed red, and Alan jerked his hand back almost as if it were hot, dropping it momentarily into his own lap. They both swallowed noticeably, and each let out a deep breath, almost in unison. Fermat picked up his fork, and Alan grabbed his milk.

"I can't wait until this rumor's put to rest," Alan muttered.

"You and me, b-both," Fermat agreed.