Unfair Advantage

"Hey, Dom?"

"Yeah?"

Alan leaned up against the outside of the bathroom door. It was nearly time for lights out, and Dom was finishing up his nightly routine.

"You know how sophomores are getting pictures taken tomorrow?"

Dom sighed. "Yeah, I know. I've got to be there, remember?"

"Uh-huh." Alan followed Dom as the latter put his shoes away. "Well, I was wondering; what can be done about something like... uh... this?" He swirled a finger in the air just above his cheek.

"That? Oh, that's no problem," Dom said, pulling back his covers. "The photographers can touch that up in the lab. Make it look like it's not even there."

Alan sighed, relieved. "Whew! That's great. I was worried I'd have to... I dunno... wear make-up or something." He climbed to his bunk, and wriggled in between the sheets. "Good to know that I won't look like Frankenstein's monster in the yearbook." Settling in, he put his hands behind his head. "And after the doctor's appointment tomorrow, I might even be in the track team picture on Friday. Carter will eat his words when he finds out about the touch-up business."

"Whoa, wait a minute." Dom stuck his head out a little, looking up at Alan. "They might not be able to do that for the team picture. The image might be too small to work with."

Alan peeked over the edge, frowning at Dom just as the lights went out. "You mean I'll look like this in the team picture?"

"I think so." Dom's words were muffled by a yawn. "I'll ask, and let you know for sure."

With a sigh, Alan lay back down, hands above his head again. "Thanks, Dom. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Pinky. G'night."

"G'night." Alan sighed again before rolling over onto his side, leaving the battered cheek exposed.

"So, what's this all about?" Alan asked. They were sitting in a quiet corner of the dining hall lobby; Sable was on a fifteen-minute break. He gave the black and white checkered case that she held a dubious look. "How can you help?"

"Well, Blondie, I've got the answer to your picture problems right here." Sable unlatched the case, and opened it. "I've done theater make-up..."

He groaned. "Make-up. I was afraid of that!"

"Hey, have an open mind here!" Sable was enthusiastic as she took out tubes and compacts. "I can make that scabby patch disappear!"

Alan grabbed her wrist, and leaned in, speaking in low tones. "Listen. I appreciate what you're trying to do here. But there are four reasons why I can't wear make-up... at least not today."

Sable disengaged her wrist, none too gently, and sat back, folding her arms. "So? What reasons, Blondie? And they better be good ones."

He blew out a breath and spread a hand. "Okay. All right. First of all, I'd have to wear it all day. Everyone would notice and I'd get teased about it."

"Not as much as you do with your face like that," she retorted.

"More!" He jabbed a finger at the damage. "People are used to this now." He looked around, to see who might be watching. "If they couldn't see it, they'd know why."

"So you get teased. You're a big boy; you can handle it... or can you?" Sable glanced at her watch. "Come on, Blondie. Don't got all day."

"Okay. All right. I talked with Dom Bertoli, the yearbook editor... he's my roommate, y'know. He told me that the photographers could get rid of it for me. Touch it up in my yearbook portrait." Alan held out both hands, fingers splayed wide, and shook them. "So, y'see, I don't really need it today."

"Today?" Sable gave him a sidelong look.

"Uh, yeah. I'll explain that in a minute," Alan assured her. "Third, I've got a doctor's appointment this afternoon before my pictures get taken. I'd have to wash it off for that. And that's before my picture appointment."

She blew out a heavy breath, and jerked her head around in a half-nod, putting up a hand. "Okay, doctor's appointment. I'll give you that one. What's the last one?"

Alan bit his lower lip, and leaned in closer. "My oldest brother is coming today; he's going to take me to the doctor and might even stay the weekend. If he sees me with make-up on my face, he will tell my other brothers about it and I will never, ever, ever live it down. I will hear about it for the. Rest. Of. My. Miserable. Life."

"Brother, huh?" Sable rubbed her chin with a finger, and her tone turned speculative. "How old?"

The question brought Alan up short and he had to think. "Uh... twenty-five?" He thought a little more and nodded. "Yeah. He's twenty-five."

"Is he good-looking?"

Alan moved back a bit, and gave her an unbelieving look. He shook his head. "I dunno. He doesn't break any mirrors."

Sable's eyebrows went up, then she started laughing. Some of the students who were coming in for the regular breakfast shift glanced over at them, and Alan noticed. "Hey, can you lower the volume? People are looking at us!"

Her laughter wound down, though not as quickly as Alan would have liked. She began putting the tubes and compacts back in the case. "I gotta go. Last chance to change your mind."

"No thanks, not today." He stood, glancing around. "But... I might need it tomorrow."

Sable rose to her feet. "Why tomorrow?"

"Team pictures." At her puzzled expression, he explained. "If the doc says I can, I'll be back to playing sports... and I'll be able to have my picture taken with the track team. Dom says that they might not be able to touch those up – the image is too small. So, if we can meet up before practice..."

The puzzled expression dissolved into a calculating one. "Well, if I can meet this brother of yours..."

A quick vision of an uncomfortable Scott meeting Sable made him grin. "Deal." He glanced at his watch. "I'll let you know for sure tomorrow."

"I get to meet him regardless?"

Alan chuckled and held out his hand. "Yeah."

"Wicked." Sable spit into her own, and took his. "See ya later, Blondie."

"Right. Later."

She left, moving quickly towards a door at the far end of the lobby. Alan sighed, and headed for the restroom to wash his hands.

Fermat hunched down into his jacket, and wished, for the first time that school year, that he'd worn a hat. The morning breeze was cold and he could feel the tips of his nose and ears becoming numb. All around him, the grass was covered with crisp frost, and the few bare spots looked hard and frozen. He had one hand jammed deeply in a pocket, and he shifted uncomfortably. The coat he'd chosen was warmer, but not as roomy as his usual one and there wasn't as much space for the cast. I hope I get this thing off today. It'll be great to shower and get dressed without the cast in the way... or this stupid itching distracting me!

"Well, fall certainly is here," A.J. said, gazing around in the gray morning light. "Getting a bit nippy."

"N-Nippy isn't the word I'd use," Fermat grumbled, trying to hitch his collar up further – a difficult task with one hand. "Let's m-move a little f-faster, please. I'd like to get into the w-warm."

A.J. chuckled, and matched Fermat's increased pace.

The number of students heading for the dining hall grew as they got closer, slowing their progress. It took only a few minutes to get into the relative warmth of the lobby, but during the short waits, Fermat shifted from one foot to the other, impatient.

"Hey, there's Alan!" A.J. said, pointing in the direction of the restroom and waving.

Fermat glanced over to see Alan heading toward them, smiling. "Hey, Fermat, A.J. How's it going?"

"I think it's a bit nippy out," A.J. said. He jerked his head toward his roommate. "But Mr. I-live-on-a -tropical-island here thinks it's freezing."

"Hey! I'm with the Brain this time!" Alan showed his support by shivering expressively. "It was damn cold this morning."

"You eating w-with us?" Fermat asked, his tone hopeful.

Alan shook his head. "Nah. I had breakfast with the team already. Sorry."

"S'okay." Fermat lifted a shoulder briefly, then straightened. "Hey, wh-when do we see the d-doctor today?"

"Appointment's at four-thirty. Scott emailed me; said he'd be here at four." Alan shrugged into his coat. "We're to meet him at the admin building."

"Four? Th-That's when I'm supposed to have my p-picture taken."

"Damn. Mine isn't scheduled until six." Alan frowned, looking thoughtful. "If you see Dom, ask if you can reschedule. You'll want the cast off for the picture anyway, right?" He glanced at his watch, and headed for the door. "Gotta go! See you in math!"

"B-But..." Fermat's call trailed off as Alan pressed through the crowd and out the door. He shook his head and sighed heavily "N-No one consulted me about this d-doctor's appointment."

"Sounds like Alan wasn't consulted either," A.J. said, shrugging.

"T-True. But there's a good chance he'll m-make his photo appointment. No way I'll m-make mine."

"Then I guess you'll have to talk to Dom." By this time, they'd come to the serving line, and A.J. fished trays out of the stack for himself and for Fermat. "Hopefully we'll see him at breakfast."

Dom, however, was nowhere to be seen during breakfast. Fermat frowned. "I g-guess I'd b-better try and get there early; see if they can f-fit me in then."

"That's a good idea, Brain," Kay said, nodding. "Otherwise you'll have to wait for the make-up date."

Classes couldn't have gone slower for Alan. The clocks seemed to be in a time warp; every time he glanced at them, they seemed to have changed only a minute or two from the last time he'd looked. Mr. Graboski called him to attention during Math, and even Mr. Beccara noticed his fidgeting in Strength Training.

"What's up, Alan?"

Alan gave him a sheepish grin. "Doctor's appointment today."

"Ah!" Mr. Beccara gave a wise, understanding nod. "I see. Right now, though, I think Tony needs you to help him keep count."

"Yes, sir." Alan blew out a relieved breath and returned to his task.

Dom was at lunch, but didn't sit with their little group. He sat as close to the doors as he could, and bolted the moment his lunch was finished. Qaeshon shook his head.

"This time of year's rough on the editor," he said. "Trying to schedule all the pictures, making sure people show up... then he'll be out and about with the school's camera, taking pictures of the events."

"Is he the only one who does this?" A.J. put down his fork, and gave Kay a thoughtful look. "I mean, you're on the staff too, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am, and I'll be doing some photography, too." Kay took a sip of punch, then wiped his lip. "But my duties will be more layout, writing, and getting things ready to send to the printer. We've started on that a little bit, but it's not heavy yet." He sighed, then speared a piece of grilled chicken. "Choosing a theme and deciding who to dedicate the book to is the hard part."

"Who gets to do that, anyway?" Alan asked, picking up his glass to take a swallow. When he'd finished, he put it down again. "I mean, nobody asks us students."

"The faculty advisor and the staff make the call." Kay reached for his napkin. "We haven't yet, but even if we had, I couldn't tell you. It's supposed to be a secret until the presentation."

"I g-guess I'll have to go with p-plan B, then," Fermat said, finishing his dessert. He glanced over at Alan. "Tell S-Scott I might be a little late meeting him."

Alan frowned. "Dude, we have an appointment..."

"I know." Fermat said firmly. He stood and picked up his tray. "But I have a p-previous appointment as well, and I'm not going to m-miss it without at least making a stab at r-rescheduling." He gave Alan a pointed look. "You might be a-a-a... you might make your appointment – but only if we forgo the f-food court." With that he walked off, balancing the tray in his good hand with the fingers of his still casted one.

"What's with him?" Alan asked of A.J. "He's been awfully grumpy lately."

A.J. shrugged. "I dunno. He did say that no one had consulted him on this appointment you've got... he seemed put out about it."

"No one consulted me either," Alan replied, a sour look on his face as he picked up his own tray and followed Fermat.

A.J. caught up to him. "I told him that. It didn't seem to help."

Alan snorted and shook his head. "I guess I'll have to talk to him again."

When his literature class ended, Alan was first out the door and down the stairs. He sprinted across the main quad, dodging through the thickening crowd of relieved fellow students. He cut through the Student Center, and made a beeline for his dorm across the dormitory quad, scattering the few leaves that had fallen after the groundskeepers made their rounds. He took the steps to Birchwood two at a time, and was breathing fairly heavily by the time he reached his room. Dom wasn't there; Alan hadn't expected him to be, really. He slung his backpack under his desk, and made quick work of changing into street clothes.

By contrast, Fermat went straight to the yearbook office upon release from his Chemistry class. There were two students in line, and a third was being photographed. Fermat ducked around those in line, earning himself a glare or two, and approached Dom, who sat at a table, a laptop in front of him.

"Uh, D-Dom?"

The yearbook editor looked up and gave Fermat a harried smile. "You're early, Fermat."

"I know." Fermat fidgeted then blurted out, "Can I r-r-r... make another appointment?"

"Why?" Dom asked, frowning.

With a sigh, Fermat explained. "I have a d-doctor's appointment at four-thirty and I'm s-supposed to meet my ride at f-four." His expression turned sour. "N-No one exactly consulted me when they m-made the appointment."

"I see," Dom said with a sigh. He turned to the computer, and began to type. "Okay. I'm going to reschedule for you on make-up day, which is Wednesday of next week. Six-thirty. Make sure you're there, okay?" The printer beside him started up, and when the page was finished, he handed it to Fermat. "Here's the confirmation. You should get an email reminder, too – if the system's working the way it should. It's been giving us fits this year."

Fermat smiled in relief. "Thanks, Dom. Hopefully I'm g-getting my c-cast off today, so my picture will look more natural."

Dom returned the smile. "I hope things go well with the appointment." The photographer took that moment to approach him, and he turned, effectively dismissing Fermat.

Looking at his watch, Fermat muttered a curse under his breath and left. He had to decide whether or not to risk being late for the appointment and changing clothes, or heading straight to the administration building from there. Better not risk it, he thought. The admin building it is.

Scott sat in one of the comfortable chairs in the administration building's lobby, reading a local newspaper he'd bought at the hotel. He scanned the pages, looking for any reference to Alan and the attack, but there didn't seem to be anything. He hadn't given the local coverage much thought until now. As he turned the page and shook the paper out for easy reading, he decided to rectify that oversight. John probably has all that stuff earmarked for retrieval. I'll check with him later.

He was deep into the funnies when his ears picked up the slight scuff of rubberized shoe sole on carpet. He smiled and, without turning around, said, "Hey, Alan."

Alan's mouth dropped open and his eyebrows rose in surprise. Then he snorted a breath, folded his arms and asked, in a peeved and sarcastic voice, "Just how did you know it was me?"

Scott grinned, folding up his paper neatly before standing to face his brother. "Well, let's just say you haven't gotten the 'sneaking around silently' down pat yet. Need a few more lessons." He chuckled, and put out a hand. "Good to see you, kiddo."

Alan rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. "That's not much of an improvement over 'Sprout'." Then he broke into a grin and took his brother's hand. "Good to see you too... old timer."

"Old timer?" Scott's response was one of amused indignation. He used his grasp on Alan to suddenly pull the boy to him, then he wrapped his other arm loosely around his brother's neck. Letting go Alan's hand, he brought his knuckles up to rub them across the blond hair.

"Hey! No noogies! Watch the hair!" Alan's protests filled the quiet waiting area, and brought Mrs. Belvedere's secretary out of her office.

"Mr. Tracy!" she called sharply.

"Yes, ma'am?" Two voices responded in unison, and Scott stopped his play, letting go of Alan.

Seeing that the elder of the two had likely been the instigator, she sniffed. "Please take it outside, gentlemen. It's still working hours here."

"Yes, ma'am," came the dual response again. Sighing, the secretary shook her head, and returned to her office.

Scott turned and glanced around. "Where's Fermat?" His gaze dropped to his watch. "We're going to be late..."

"He had to get his picture taken..." Alan's explanation trailed off as Fermat, huffing a little, hurried into the waiting area.

"S-Sorry I'm late," he said. "Had to r-r-reschedule a conflicting appointment."

"Well, I'm glad you're here." Scott clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "So let's get on the road."

Again, Scott found himself in a waiting room, reading the rest of the paper. When he'd read everything that interested him and caught up with the sports scores, he folded it up and put it on the small table beside him. He was the only one left in the waiting room now, the parents of the few, mostly school-aged children who sat in the waiting room with him had gone into the examining rooms with their progeny and office hours were coming to a close. Bored with waiting, he looked around for more reading material. The headline of a weekly magazine caught his eye: "Sports and Steroids: What Are They Doing To Our Youngest Athletes". He frowned; something about the title made him suspicious, and he picked up the magazine. Opening it to the proper page, he scanned the columns of text to find what he'd feared.

"The recent events at Wharton Academy, culminating with the beating of two students by steroid-using athletes, shows how deeply entrenched the culture of 'win at any cost' has become in our schools."

"At least they didn't mention Alan by name," he muttered, settling back to read the article in depth.

Once distracted, it seemed like only a few moments until he heard Alan's voice. "Hey, Scott?"

He looked up to see both Alan and Fermat standing before him. "Ah, there you are. How'd it go?"

Fermat grinned and held up his arm, now devoid of cast. "G-Great! My arm's all h-healed!"

Scott rose and clapped Fermat on the shoulder. "Way to go, sport!" He started for the check-out desk and turned his attention to his brother. "What about you?"

Alan sighed. "I'm cleared for everything but javelin. The shoulder's still a bit sore." He brightened. "I can get back into strength training though, as long as I take it slowly. That will build the shoulder back up."

"Sounds like good news to me!" Scott stopped at the window, and signed the papers that were pushed at him, taking responsibility for the bill in his father's absence. "How about we celebrate with some food?"

"What t-time is it?" Fermat asked, glancing at his watch. "Alan has an a-appointment at six."

Alan shot a glare at Fermat as Scott turned to him. "An appointment?"

"Yeah," Alan admitted, his voice sullen. "School photographer."

Scott finished his business at the check-out window, and herded the two boys out to the parking lot. They climbed into the sporty car that he'd rented, and once they were on the road, he asked, "Why didn't you say something before this?"

"It's no big deal, Scott. I can reschedule it for later." Alan glanced at Fermat, who was in the back seat. "Fermat did." He turned back to his brother. "Really, Scott. It's not a big deal."

Scott frowned. "Still, if you can make the appointment, you should. Is it okay to bring pizza on campus? Where could we eat it if we did? That little snack shop place? What do you say?"

"I was hoping to go to the food court at the mall." Alan's frustration was plain to see and hear.

"S-So was I, actually," Fermat added.

However, Scott had made up his mind.

"We can do that tomorrow night." He handed his phone to Alan. "Find a pizza place on the GPS and give them a call. We'll pick it up on our way back to campus." He called back to Fermat. "Is that okay with you, sport?"

"Y-Yeah, it is." Fermat was torn between a certain smugness at Scott putting Alan in his place, and disappointment that he wouldn't be able to eat at the food court the next evening.

Alan sighed, and went looking for the place Wharton ordered pizza from, then made his call.

An hour and two large pizzas later, Scott and Fermat sat in the snack shop, waiting for Alan to return. Scott watched the boy over the rim of his plastic cup. Fermat slurped his milkshake noisily, getting to the bottom and finishing it with a smack of his lips.

"So, how are things going for you, Fermat?" Scott asked. He took a pull on his own straw. "Bet it feels good to get rid of that cast."

"Y-Yeah, it does." Fermat surveyed the pizza, trying to decide if he wanted another piece. "My arm looks f-f-f... odd, though."

"Yeah, that usually happens. It'll pass." Scott shifted in his chair a little. It wasn't usually this hard for him to talk to Fermat, but then, he realized, he'd never had a conversation of any depth with the boy. It was always light teasing and goofing around. But there was something he'd noticed between his brother and Fermat, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, and it made him uncomfortable. "How are things going with the new roommate?" was all he could think of asking.

Fermat shrugged. "He's o-okay. We had a r-rocky start but it got b-better."

There was an awkward pause, and Scott ventured, "Are you enjoying the academic quizzing? I saw you when Dad was here last; man, you kicked butt!"

The boy grinned. "Quizzing is g-great! I've got an a-away game tomorrow."

"Away game? Damn!" Scott snapped his fingers. "I was hoping to see you in action while I was here. And you won't be able to go to the mall either. That sucks!"

"Yeah, it does, but I can go n-next time."

The pause was back, and finally Scott decided to be direct. "Y'know, I might be imagining this, but is everything okay between you and the Sprout? You seem to be – I dunno – mad at each other."

Fermat sighed, making a sour face. "It's not really that I'm mad at him, it's j-just... he's got other th-things to do. Other f-friends. We d-don't spend as much t-time together as we used to." He blew out a long breath. "It b-bugs me."

Scott nodded slowly as Fermat spoke. He took a long pull on the straw, trying to get his thoughts in order. Then he put the cup down on the table. "Listen, Fermat. I can see how this'd bug you. It bugged me a lot when I was growing up and my friends from school started moving in different circles than I did. When John and Virgil started having lives that I had very little part in." He leaned forward. "But that's what happens when you grow up. You're going to make other friends and, little by little, you and Alan will make your own lives. You'll stay friends, sure, but it'll be different." Sighing a little, he gave Fermat a smile. "It doesn't make things any easier when it's happening, but maybe... maybe you need to branch out on your own a little, too."

While Scott was speaking, Fermat looked down at his newly-liberated hand, rubbing it absently. But at Scott's final suggestion, he glanced up, a slight frown behind the glasses. "You think so?"

"Yeah." Scott nodded again. "I do."

Alan took a deep breath of the chilly evening air as he took the steps to Birchwood two at a time. He let it out in a satisfied sigh. Even if he hadn't been able to get to the mall, he'd been able to spend some quality time with his brother, had gotten the portrait taking out of the way, and most importantly, been cleared for track. He whistled the tune that he'd put on his phone to represent Scott; at some point he and Gordon had memorized it and tormented Scott with it until their dad had put the kibosh on their joke.

A very tired Dom was already in the sweats and t-shirt that he wore to bed when Alan walked in. "Hey, Dom. How'd the day go?"

"It's over, and that's what matters. One more day of photos, then I can breathe for a little bit." Dom pulled back his covers. "What did the doctor say?"

"I'm clear for track – except for javelin." Alan hung up his jacket, and put his shoes in the closet. "Fermat got his cast off, too."

"Sounds good." Dom smothered a yawn, and checked his alarm clock. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Right."

Alan took himself off to the bathroom, deciding on a shower before bed. He took a good look at himself in the mirror beforehand. The bruises had faded, the cut over his eye was a slim pink mark, and his lip was good as new. He ran his fingertips over his cheek; he still had some scabbed areas there, but most of the wounds were the dark pink of healing skin.

He showered, running soap over his legs and feeling the knobby scars on his knees. Dr. Gupta had been pleased with the way they'd healed from both Trey's tackle and what had transpired in the Hollow.

By the time he'd finished getting ready for bed, it was nearly time for lights out. Dom was already fast asleep, his back turned resolutely away from the lights that still shone in the room. Alan circled around to the end of the bunk, then pulled up short. His eyes strayed to the far corner of the room, near the door, and he grinned.

Hurrying over to that corner, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He shook his arms and legs to loosen them, all the while keeping his eyes on his target. Then, with another deep breath, he ran across the room and propelled himself into the air... just as the lights went out.

There was a thump, the creak of wood rubbing against wood, then from the vicinity of the ceiling came a sibilant, jubilant whisper.

"Yesss!"