A/N: Play the song when directed.

Okay, so things are starting to get very real in the last several weeks since I started high school.

1.) I'm the constant hot topic as all eyes are on me. But that's nothing new since EVERYONE knows about my uncharmed life and are keeping me accountable to focus on my mental health.

2.) I'm also dealing with threats from a certain femme fatale who's desperate to cling onto someone who doesn't really love her and has a jealous streak that's as long as the I-20 interstate in the entire state of Texas.

3.) Oliver Slade, my transgender diving partner, stole my very first kiss from me and I'm still not sure where things stand between us. I mean, I'm not homophobic or anything. I'm just not sure if love's even in the cards since...well, you know how my mother was about me regarding my chances of developing any relationships or friendships.

I'm treading water right now. I'm trying to play keep-away from Peavey while wanting nothing to do with Jillian Kendricks. I'm also facing down my old neighborhood's residents as they talk about how they REALLY felt about my dead family and my former relatives. And right now, I just need a moment to let myself breathe.

As for my therapy sessions, they're coming along and I'm going to keep at it for as long as I can because I really want to break away from the mess that is my uncharmed life.

************

"All right, class," Mrs. Burton, the middle-aged English teacher said as she took to the helm of the classroom. "Last week, I assigned you all to write one poem that gives you a bit of hope. And after reading a bit of Tennyson yesterday, you all had ample opportunity to write something that can bring you some light in this dark world. Anyone wants to go first before I randomly pick someone?"

I took a deep breath, remembering what Dr. Nguyen assigned me to do yesterday at the therapy session. I gingerly raised my hand. "I have a little something that I wrote," I commented. "It's a bit on the rough side, but-"

"All the better to share it with the class, Mr. Bader," Mrs. Burton said, a few of the students humming in agreement. "Come on up."

I took in deep breaths as I jostled up to the front of the class.

You're making a big mistake, boy, Mama's voice hissed in my head. Sit back down and risk being a failure in everyone's eyes.

Shut up, Mama. Just shut up.

I opened my journal up and found the page that I wrote on last night. "I call this piece 'Peachtree Kisses and Dreams,'" I said.

Why? Tell me why.
Why am I still hurting, even though I'm smiling on the outside,
vainly enjoying the kisses of my lady as we gaze at the sunset?
       The spark of regret still lingers like a rotten worn inside a lovely quince.

When? Please tell me when.
When will I find redemption for my destitute soul?
Sunrise? Sunset? High noon? Maybe twilight?
      Must this ache be the price I must pay for my hidden sins,
the tears never stopping to cease pouring down my worn face?

Where? Where?
Where can I finally embrace the hour of forgiveness,
allowing myself to enjoy the electric rainbow and wearing it with pride
      after dancing in the cyber rain?

It's human nature that I'm still feeling this way.
It's near the time of freedom of the chains of yesterday's sins.
It's only in the heart of the Maker where we can find penance?

So many questions of uncertainty, yet there's so many answers of assured goodness.

Soon. It'll be soon.
That's when we'll walk with the stars amongst the sun.

I finished with a little bow, taking small breaths to quell my racing heart.

Stupidest poem that you ever wrote or spoke out loud, my mother's voice spat in my head. You're a lost cause, you little shit! Why won't you just give up and end it all like I asked you to?

"That...that was pretty good, Bader," one student commented. "Was this the first time that you wrote a poem?"

I nodded. "My therapist said to try writing poems to help me channel my emotions outside of writing music," I explained. "I actually wrote this last night as I remembered the assignment."

"Well, you did just fine, young man," replied Mrs. Burton, giving me an approving smile. "It could be a bit better, maybe add in some imagery and really channel your emotions into writing it. But you do show promise."

"Thank you," I breathed, taking my seat.

She only says that to give you false hope, Mom's voice sneered. And you're surrounded by lots of it. Save face, boy. Save face and die like a lost boy that you are.

Not today, Ma, I thought in reply. Not if anyone who wants me to live has anything to say about it.

**************

A/N: Play the song ahead NOW! Media: "Summer Breeze" by the Isley Brothers

It was now my free period as I was back in the bandroom and at the piano (special guest stars included Mrs. Bermudez-Estrada, the Callaway duo, and some of the DFW Board of Education staff members) as I played for them a slew of Isley Brothers music with a Strauss twist. This morning was a bit unnerving since I wasn't used to putting myself out there and stepping out of my comfort zone. But Judge Halliday challenged me to contribute to the classwork and be a part of the discussions and speaking challenges. And Dr. Nguyen's poem-writing/reciting challenge was important to him, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone.

I transitioned from "Voyage to Atlantis Pts. 1 & 2" to "Summer Breeze," deciding to sing a bit of the lyrics. "Sweet days of summer, the jasmines in bloom," I began. "July is dressed up and playing a tune. When I come home from a hard day's work. And you're waiting there without a care in the world."

Songs like this did give me a bit of homesickness, knowing that Mr. Tucker loved listening to old-school R&B and soul music. It was his favorite kind to listen to, especially during the weekends when I'd come to stay with him and his family while my family left to do whatever and lock me out of the apartment.

"Summer breeze makes me feel fine, blooming of the jasmines in my mind," I said as I reached the chorus. "Summer breeze makes me feel fine, blooming of the jasmines in my mind."

I added a final flourish of Stratinsky as I reached the closing bars before fading off as the adults clapped.

"That was a treat to hear, Mr. Bader," a dark-skinned woman in her sixties hummed. "No wonder that the Callaways called you gifted despite your situation. Your family didn't know how talented you are and mainly ignored the greatness within you."

"I agree," added a stoic-faced older man who gave me a small smile. "No matter what she said to you, son, remember that you still have some fight in you. What's worth the prize is always worth the battle."

I nodded. "Thank y'all," I commented just as I saw Ryan in the doorway. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get some air."

"But of course," Mr. Callaway commented, allowing me to step outside.

I managed to duck inside the spotless men's restroom before Ryan caught up with me. "Demario, are you okay?" he asked me gently.

"Why are you even here?" I asked, knowing that Jillian could be lurking around.

"I had to see how you're holding up," he replied. "You looked as if you were in your element until I came around. And it seems like I can't get you out of my head."

"Well, I can't allow either of us to face Kendricks' wrath," I replied thinly. "And I can't take any chances with being on her blacklist, damn your gorgeous tilted eyes."

And I sealed my fate with that last part. Why can't I keep my big mouth shut? Holly's candid wit must be rubbing off on me.

Ryan chuckled lowly. "Blunt, aren't we?"

I wasn't getting anywhere. I had to get out of there to save myself from a tarnished reputation. "I need to go, Peavey," I said pleadingly. "Please, just let me get back to the band room and-"

I felt his lips brush against mine briefly. "Calm down, Demario," Ryan said, coming towards me before wrapping his arms around my waist. "And that kiss is to show you that Slade has nothing on me. I can be what you need if you allow yourself. Forget about Jillian and her threats. You and I...are destined for each other."

I shook my head no, breaking away from his grasp and racing back to the band room as I was able to catch the now-worried faces of the adults.

"Demario?!" Mrs. Callaway exclaimed. "Are you..."

"He looks as...panic attack..." someone else said as the room began to spin around.

Everything looked so blurry, my heart beginning to race faster no thanks to Ryan kissing me like that.

"Call a doctor...his foster dads and Mr. Nguyen..."

"Glory to God...he looks as if he's been..."

"Suffering a setback from..."

You're too weak, you fucking shit! Mom's voice screeched in my head as my legs began to give out. I wished for something to finally end your worthless ass and do away with you once and for all! I wish for this thunder and lightning to kill you already!

And then the darkness came to greet me like a bear hug.

Well THAT escalated real quick, didn't it?! From a simple poetry recital to a panic attack no thanks to Ryan kissing him like that. And all I can tell you is that the backlash from this chapter will be apparent in the next four chapters, starting with Demario coming out from his sedative state and in need of a few words of wisdom and a special guest. And that, dear friends, is in the next chapter, so stay tuned!

Dedication: eacomiskey and AmyMarieZ.

Vote.
Comment.
Share.
Follow.
Add.
FAN!