Don't Put Your Face Into Your Hands

[Jen]

Story Title: Don’t Put Your Face Into Your Hands

Type of story: Short/Medium fic

Main Characters: Dex & Casey

BTTB rating: T

Genre: Pre-slash

Does story include spoilers: No (Storyline up to episode 5250)

Any warnings: Language, Violence

Summary: So, in the absence of any real relationship evolving in the near or distant future Dex has taken to making videos.

A/N: Title taken from “We Could Be Friends” by Freelance Whales, and written with the encouragement of Miranda. Dex is my spirit animal, and warning: this fic contains a lot of run-on sentences and commas.

--

don’t put your face into your hands

Part One

Dex readily acknowledges the fact that he’s always been weird and never really fitted in with the other kids his age.

Relationships are kind of this foreign concept. Kind of like tamagotchis, where all the other kids had one but Dex inadvertently missed out. It’s some sort of developmental flaw, Dex is sure, which should be inexcusable given his father is a doctor.

But even so, Dex can count the number of “relationships” he’s had on one hand when he’s lost three fingers.

They weren’t even relationships, like the kind Indi has with Romeo, or Sid has with Marilyn -- where they go on dates to the Diner or to the movies and talk to each other constantly. There is just this constant need to be around this other person, and when you’re not, you miss them.

Dex has never had that kind of relationship.

Annie was sweet, and caring, and at the time Dex was still in denial about his inability to fit in with people his own age, so was reduced to this quiet, shadow of his real self with a shaggy haircut. But Annie smiled at him and they were able to sit side by side on the beach without actually saying anything. Then things blew up with Dex’s family. Before he left, Annie kissed Dex. It was soft, and timid, and kind of wet, but it certainly wasn’t horrible, just pretty uneventful as far as first kisses went.

Then there was Adrian. She was cynical and sarcastic with a quick wit and was easily able to match Dex in terms of obscure pop culture references. Adrian also had multiple piercings, a purple streak in her hair and framed her eyes with thick liner, so was as far removed from Annie as possible. But Adrian wasn’t interested in Dex as a boyfriend, and Dex was like a hyperactive puppy that kept racing out on dates for advice from his sister. It was uncomfortable for all involved.

So, in the absence of any real relationship evolving in the near or distant future Dex has taken to making videos.

Dex checks his blog religiously. He doesn’t know what he expects to find. That one day he’ll get home from school and log in to see his latest video has one million hits? Not likely. But stranger things have happened.

And besides, maybe this is Dex’s one shot. His one chance to succeed, to not be on the bottom of the food chain -- to be popular. After all, this is how Justin Bieber got his break. All it takes is one video -- one person to see it, and tweet about it; post a link to a friend who watches it, before reblogging it and suddenly you have exposure. Dex knows how it works. He’s seen The Social Network.

After the first posting there are 6 hits. Four of them are Dex himself. One is April because he made her watch it, and he was standing over her shoulder the entire time. The last one is unknown. And that one unknown viewer is what spurs him to keep coming up with new ideas, to keep uploading -- because even the greatest film makers have to start with the smallest of audiences.

Unfortunately, Dex still has to go to school. A place where he wishes he could just be invisible. But, no. It’s like he has a giant red target painted on his back, and a sign that says “Kick Me”, and there’s not a lot Dex can do about it.

--

Dexsworld’s Blog

Everything Dex has to say

Straighten Your Priorities

Filed under: Text by dexsworld - 0 Comments

Being dumped in the middle of the bush by a couple of Neanderthals really does something to a person. It makes you re-evaluate everything that you thought was important and really look at your priorities.

My priorities?

To invest in a good compass in case this happens again. Also, maybe some sort of survival training wouldn’t go astray. Would I get in trouble if I carried a Swiss army knife in my pocket at school?

Speaking of which, what is the likelihood that I would need a knife and a fork and a corkscrew at the same time? Surely, if you are lost in the wilderness you aren’t going to be stranded in the middle of nowhere all the while thinking, ‘I wish I hadn’t left my Swiss army knife at home so I could open this bottle of wine with my corkscrew and use it to get a small rodent drunk enough so I can attack it with my knife and eat it’s flesh using my fork, because I don’t want to appear as though I have no manners.’ If you are being abducted in broad daylight from a car park, you aren’t going to have time to rush home and get your bottle of merlot. Just saying.

The Swiss army knife could be vastly improved to give maximum protection and increase the likelihood of survival by any individual who posses it. I propose that instead of the standard fork/knife/corkscrew combination the appliance be adapted to contain the following;

Read more

--

Dex was looking forward to the science project. In Dex’s mind it was an easy 20% of his grade. He’d read through the course outline when it was handed out on the first day of school, then marked the due date in his diary, and had already started searching through his dad’s old medical journals looking for inspiration. Nowhere on the course outline did it say that this was a group project.

And because Dex is Dex -- and has all the good fortune of the captain of the Titanic -- of course he had to be grouped with Xavier and Casey.

Dex was all prepared to just offer to do the whole assignment himself and put their names on the final report, just to save himself from the utter humiliation of trying to work together with them.

Dex didn’t have much of an issue with Xavier, but most of that had to do with the fact that Xavier had never even spoken to him before, and they had absolutely nothing in common. Xavier was into surfing and rebuilding old cars and surfing, while Dex’s hobbies included memorising various phyla of invertebrates. Casey was a River Boy, and while he still had the shine of a new kid who was still trying to find his way, Dex could already tell with the way he walked side by side with Romeo, that he was destined to be teenage royalty -- the boy who all the girls wanted to date and all the boys wanted to be -- while Dex was stuck being the court jester.

“Look, I say we just build one of those potato clocks and be done with it,” Xavier was saying.

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Casey replies with a laugh.

“Well, you come up with something better, Einstein,” Xavier shoots Dex a look. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something? You’ve hardly said anything.”

“I’ve read some of my dad’s medical journals --” Dex begins, but then Casey is rolling his eyes and Xavier is holding up his hand, silently telling him to just shut up. “Look, I know you want to work with me as much as I want to work with you. So, let’s make this easy. I’ll do the research, come up with a hypothesis, carry out the investigation, then brief you on the results so if Mrs Palmer asks questions you won’t completely embarrass yourself.”

“But, it’s supposed to be a group project,” Casey insists, and Dex pointedly ignores him.

“I’m going to go to the library,” Dex adds, standing up, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and stalking out of the classroom.

He’s no more than five steps out the door when he hears his name being called.

“Dex! Dex, wait!”

Against all his better judgement, Dex stops walking and slowly turns around. Casey is jogging towards him. “I know that you hate me, which I totally get. But, we’ve got to work together. So, what do you say we just bury the hatchet and start over?”

Dex looks Casey up and down. His shirt is untucked, tie hanging loose around his neck, and his shoelaces are untied. Every bit the stereotypical bad boy.

“You’re right,” Dex says slowly, and for a moment Casey looks relieved. But then Dex continues, “I do hate you. Your mates locked me in the boot of their car --”

“ I know and --”

“And then beat me up --”

“I’m sorry but --”

“And then dumped me in the middle of the bush. So, it’s going to take me a while before I want to bury the hatchet.” Casey looks stuck. His eyes flicker back to the classroom, where Xavier is still waiting. It would be so simple for Casey to turn and go back, just ignore Dex even said anything, but then he’s staring back at him.

“I’m not like them,” Casey insists. His eyes are wide, pleading.

“But you are,” Dex replies, a hard edge to his voice. “You may not do the things they do, but you don’t try to stop them either.” Casey seems taken aback by Dex’s sudden aggression.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” Casey says finally. “I need a good mark on this project.”

“So this is all about making yourself look good?” Dex accuses.

“No!” Casey replies quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “I just -- I know you’re smart, and you don’t want someone like me dragging you down. So, I’m going to work on this assignment to prove that I’m different.”

Dex eyes Casey pointedly. He seems genuine, but Dex is still sceptical. He nods slowly before turning away and walking down the corridor.

As he reaches the double doors leading out of the building, Dex hears Casey’s voice. “I mean it! I’m going to make it up to you!”

--

[Jen]

Part Two

Somehow, by some miracle, not only does Dex finish the science project with Casey and Xavier, he actually gets some degree of enjoyment out of it. He’s not going to say he had fun, because their project was about cars and girls -- which aren’t exactly Dex’s favourite things -- but Casey and Xavier were really into it. Up to the point where they made Dex do all the statistical analysis, but that was to be expected.

But even that wasn’t as bad as having to talk to your dad about the specifics of ‘What Turns Girls On’. When they were in Sid’s office, there were diagrams and charts and Xavier kept giggling every time Sid said “arousal”. Now Dex is fairly certain he is going to need therapy to get a few of those images out of his head.

But as soon as it’s over they go their separate ways.

Casey finishes the speech to a loud round of applause from their class, including Mr Copeland, and Xavier takes an exaggerated bow, while Dex disconnects his laptop. Mrs Palmer then hands out their marks. Dex stares at the overall 85% and shrugs -- it’s not bad. Dex chances a glance, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Casey biting back a smile as he stares down at the assessment sheet, and Xavier is clapping him on the shoulder, and playfully calling him a nerd.

The bell rings and the class rush for the door, while Dex is left to wind up cords and save audio files, so he doesn’t lose the data.

Not that Dex is really surprised. The jocks go back to the penthouse, and Dex returns to the basement. And the natural order of things is once again restored.

That night Dex is staring at his computer. He’s got a mug of hot chocolate on the corner of his desk, with two tiny marshmallows floating in it. His iPod is plugged into his speakers with his ‘Inspiration’ playlist churning out a variety of simple acoustic sounds. Dex sits himself down and stretches his fingers, ready to churn out his next blog entry. But nothing comes to mind.

Dex has always been full of ideas. Whether it’s original plots for the many plays he plans to write or new inventions he just needs the funds to produce. Dex has never known what it was like to not be thinking about the next step. But even though Dex has everything set up -- He’s blocked.

The only thing Dex keeps thinking about is Casey. The way he laughed and joked with the class as he delivered the results of their investigation. The way he could charm Mrs Palmer and get giggles out of the girls when he pointed out trends in their data. It was like someone flicked a switch inside Casey’s head and he suddenly had this personality that Dex had never seen before.

Casey is a River Boy, Dex knows this. His brothers have tattoos, and drive cars with loud exhausts, and beat each other up for no reason. But Dex can’t get this nagging feeling out of his mind, that maybe Casey was right. Maybe, he isn’t the same as the rest of them.

So maybe that’s what his next video should be about.

--

Dex strolls up to Casey as he’s opening his locker before school.

“I need you to help me with my blog,” Dex says without preamble.

“No way,” Casey replies without looking over at Dex.

“I’m calling in that favour you owe me.” Casey slowly pulls out his books, deliberately refusing to acknowledge that Dex is still standing beside him. Not to be deterred, Dex continues, “Or were you not serious about making it up to me?”

Casey looks like he’s biting back some other retort. But then he lets out a sigh and a strained, “Fine.” Before slamming his locker shut and walking away.

“Hey Dex,” April says, catching up with him on the way to English class. Mr Copeland hadn’t arrived yet, so the class was in disarray. Girls were perched on desks, gossiping across the aisles, while boys had taken to tossing a football to each other from opposite sides of the room. Dex, followed by April, duck under a particularly lofty pass, take their seats near the front. “I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” Dex replies, placing his novel and notebook on the desk.

“Doing what?” April asks.

“Science project. Working on blog ideas.” Dex is now rifling through his pencil case looking for his blue pen. Finding what he needs Dex pulls out the biro and begins twirling it between his fingers. Looking up Dex catches sight of a tuft of brown hair, a deliberate slouch and he darts out of his seat to the door.

Hanging out the doorframe, Dex catches Casey off-guard.

“My place! 5 pm!”

Casey spins around, his face startled. As soon as he sees Dex he’s darting his eyes around and rushing up to Dex, hissing, “What the hell, dude? What are you doing?” He keeps looking over his shoulder and not really looking Dex in the eye, like some sort of startled animal.

“You didn’t give me a chance to give you all the details before you moodily stalked off this morning,” Dex replies. Dex has dealt with Indi before she’s had her first coffee of the day, this is nothing compared to that.

“Okay, fine. You’ve made your point,” Casey whispers.”But don’t go spreading it around.”

“You have a reputation to uphold?” Dex asks, quirking an eyebrow, before waving his hands around and backtracking. “No, wait. Don’t tell me now. Save it for tonight. It’s going to all work out.”

Casey’s mouth is gaping slightly, and Dex sees his shoulders sag and as he shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe Dex coerced him into agreeing to this. But frankly, Dex thinks he’s going pretty easy on him. In the grand scheme of things, there are much worse things Dex could have asked Casey to do.

Mr Copeland is then rounding the corner towards the classroom.

“Casey Braxton, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Mr Copeland is asking when he strolls up to the boys, a stack of papers under his arm. Casey turns and begins walking down the hall towards his class.

“Wear something rebellious!” Dex calls out after him. This earns him a curious look from Mr Copeland, before he is forced to take his seat with the rest of his peers.

--

[Jen]

Part Three

That afternoon Dex is running around like a mildly crazed lunatic. He’s setting up his laptop, and checking the settings on his camera, then rushing across to the window and pulling the blinds closed before going back to his computer screen again. As soon as Casey arrived, Dex directed him to a wooden stool and told him to sit, “And don’t move.”

So Casey is perched on his stool and Dex is doing his thing and they haven’t really spoken much.

“So, what’s the deal with you and April?” Casey asks suddenly. He’s trying to be polite, just filling the awkward silence before Dex starts humming to himself again.

“Huh?” Dex is not really paying attention. He’s flicking light switches on and off and muttering to himself something about being washed out. Casey is wishing he was being washed out to sea at this point.

“You and April?” Casey tries a second time. “You kissed her yet?”

That seems to get Dex’s attention. “No! I mean, we’re not -- We’re just, sort of friends, I guess.”

“Sort of friends? What is that?”

“It’s what you get when you hang out with me,” Dex replies nonchalantly. Dex wanders back to where Casey is sitting and pulls up a stool beside him. “Now, be quiet. I’m not paying you to ask questions.”

“You’re not paying me anything!” Casey replies, slightly incredulous. “Although, maybe I should ask for something so you don’t go blabbing to the whole school that I’m now part of Dex’s World.”

“Okay, first. If you want me to keep quiet about you helping me with my blog, then really, you should be paying me, not the other way around. And, second. Do you want to make it up to me or not?” Casey shuts his mouth after that.

That is until Dex begins opening various windows on his laptop and begins typing. Casey can’t help peering over Dex’s shoulder. He’s taller, and despite the fact that he’s maybe failing English right now, Casey can read.

--

Dexsworld’s Blog

Everything Dex has to say

Interview With A Bad Boy

Filed under: Video by dexsworld - 0 Comments

--

“Is that why you wanted me? To use me in one of your lame videos.” Casey demands.

Dex shrugs half-heartedly still taping at the keyboard. “Don’t stress, you’ll be fine. Just answer the questions I give you and don’t think about it too much. I want it to seem natural.”

“I thought you would want me to hold the camera or serve you food, not be in the video. I didn’t sign up for this.”

Without another word, Dex is reaching over, pressing a button on the camera and a red light switches on. Dex sits up taller on his stool so he’s almost shoulder to shoulder with Casey and begins speaking, looking directly down the barrel.

“We’ve all see the movies. Bender in The Breakfast Club, Heath Ledger’s Patrick Verona in 10 Things I Hate About You, and the legend James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause. But what exactly is a Bad Boy? And why do girls seem to go crazy when they are around them? Those are the questions we are addressing here on Dex’s World today.

“And in order to uphold the journalistic integrity that Dex’s World is renowned for, I’m going straight to the source. I’m joined by Casey Braxton; member of the River Boys, certified Bad Boy and teen heartthrob.”

Then Dex is turning and staring directly at Casey asking, “So Casey, were you always a Bad Boy or was it something you adopted later in life?”

“Uh, I --” Casey is glaring at Dex, his mouth slightly agape, and Dex is nodding his head, silently telling Casey to just say something. “Uh, my whole life, I guess.”

“So, when you were still in nappies what were you doing to make all the other kindergarteners jealous?”

“What?”

“What is it that girls find most attractive about you?” Dex quirks his eyebrow in Casey’s direction.

“I dunno ... You’d have to ask them.”

“What about you? What do you look for in a girl?”

Dex crosses one leg on top of the other and perches his folded hands on his knee and waits. Casey seems to take a deep breath and Dex expects him to launch into a big spiel about blonde hair and blue eyes and big boobs, but instead it’s almost like he stops breathing altogether.

Casey’s eyes flick back to the camera, and Dex can see the red recording light reflected in his eye. He must catch a glimpse of himself in the frame because Dex sees all the muscles in Casey’s neck tense and he practically shuts down.

Dex is seeing the colour drain from Casey’s face with every moment and he isn’t sure whether Casey is going to faint or vomit, or both.

In fact, it’s neither. Without so much as another word, Casey is standing up and running out of the room. Dex cringes when the front door slams shut.

Turning back to the camera, Dex sighs and leans forward and switches off the recording.

Dex wants to think that Casey just got stage fright -- or camera fright. He saw that little red light and his pulse started racing and he was unable to make any sort of audible noises, let alone construct sentences. But there is this eerie feeling that Dex can’t seem to shake. The feeling that it was something else. That it wasn’t that he was in front of a camera -- Dex saw the way Casey was when he gave their presentation, he’s definitely not afraid of public speaking -- but what he was being asked to talk about.

Maybe there is a secret oath, Dex ponders. That the River Boys are somehow bound to keep any and all club related incidences under wraps. But this wasn’t about the River Boys. It was about girls, and what Casey saw in them, and for some reason that was the sticking point.

When Sid comes home from work that night Dex is still in the kitchen, laptop on the dining table and he’s re-watching the footage. There’s not much of it, no more than three minutes tops, but Dex can’t seem to stop. He wants to know why, and more than anything he wants to understand. But he’s coming up empty-handed. Sid has to wrestle Dex’s computer away from him when he wants to put dinner on the table.

--

[Jen]

Part Four

Dex spies Casey sitting hunched over at a table in the corner of the Diner when he walks in.

They haven’t spoken in two days, and prior to the now historic science project, Dex wouldn’t have thought about it. But since then -- Has it really only been five days? -- Dex can’t help but think that this is significant.

Casey has been avoiding Dex in the corridors at school, walking the other way whenever he saw Dex coming. He’s also been flanking himself with other boys who are notorious for causing trouble. Dex knows they hang out around the back of the sports shed during lunch, and he can always smell smoke on them when they waltz into class (normally at least fifteen minutes late). If Casey is trying to prove to Dex that he is in fact a Bad Boy, then he’s doing a pretty good job. Dex is also certain he saw Casey making out with Ruby on the beach yesterday, but Dex doesn’t want to try and figure what that was all about.

At the present time, Casey hasn’t noticed Dex walk in. He’s too busy staring hard at a book in front of him, pen poised in his hand.

Casey is scribbling out the last two lines when Dex walks up to him.

“This seat taken?” Dex asks just to be polite, before sitting down opposite anyway.

Casey looks up, momentarily startled. But then he’s carefully schooling his features into a blank expression and going back to his work.

Casey is obviously not going to talk, so Dex decides he is going to have to. “Finishing homework? Did you get that book report finished for Mr Copeland’s English class? I mean, The Outsiders should be right up your alley, right? Is that what you’re working on now? Personally, I think contrasting The Socs versus The Greasers is a bit trivial, when really the crux of the story is about how they are the same. But I guess to understand why, you have to start there. To see how they are different before you can identify the similarities --”

Casey’s head snaps up and he’s obviously angry. “I know what it’s about!”

“Okay,” Dex replies, drawing out the vowel slowly. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“I know you don’t have many friends, or whatever. But did you ever think that maybe me ignoring you was my way of saying, ‘I don’t want to have a conversation with you’.”

Casey is glaring at Dex, and Dex isn’t quite sure what to say. Dex’s eyes flick down to the open notebook in front of Casey. Even though it’s all upside down from Dex’s point of view, he can tell that Casey has been struggling with this for a while. Lines of text have been scribbled out, the parts that haven’t are written in scrawny handwriting that Dex is struggling to read. But even so, Dex can’t quite pinpoint what he’s supposed to say or do next.

He supposes that the first part of Casey’s statement is at least true. Dex accepts that he doesn’t have many friends. He knows this. Hell, he understands why this is the case. But Dex decided long ago that he wasn’t going to change just so he could be invited to parties on a Saturday night and spend his time watching people ingest large amounts of alcohol and make out with one another. Dex has found better ways to spend his time.

The second part of Casey’s retort is what trips Dex up. Casey deliberately ignoring Dex could be due to a variety of different reasons. What Dex is trying to decipher is, which one is it?

Are they just back to Casey is popular and Dex isn’t, so Casey can’t be seen breathing the same air as Dex, let alone talking to him in public?

Or, is Casey still genuinely upset about Dex wanting to use him in his blog? Dex realises that posting a video with Casey’s face in the thumbnail, could have been seen as social suicide. So again, it’s about Dex being weird, and not fitting in.

Alternatively, is Casey just very frustrated with his English assignment, and does not want someone like Dex (read: someone who is a nerd) helping him?

However, Dex does have a habit of overanalysing things.

This is why Dex chooses to stay out of social situations which might lead to teen angst. It is far too confusing.

Dex stands, saying, “You spelled perception wrong,” and leaves Casey alone at the table.

--

Dex does not attempt to try and talk to Casey again. There is a bit of a buzz about their assignment, with Mrs Palmer announcing to the class that she is pleased to announce that Casey Braxton will be representing the school at the Interschool Science Competition, where he will be giving the presentation to a panel of judges. Dex joins the rest of the class in applauding politely, and when he looks over his shoulder, Casey avoids all eye contact.

--

It is late afternoon, the day of the Science Competition, and Dex is home alone. Not that he’s been thinking about that a lot. Except maybe pulling up the Excel spreadsheet of their data, and re-running the statistical analysis, just to make sure. It’s not about missing out on going to the Competition. And it’s definitely not about Casey not being in school that day.

A sharp tap on the front door catches Dex off-guard. At first Dex assumes it’s the wind, a loose branch rapping on the window, because there is no reason for anyone to call around to the house. But the tapping happens again, this time more persistent and Dex is forced to stand and go and open the door.

On the off chance that someone is actually at the door Dex has a list of a dozen names in mind of who it could be. Everyone from Marilyn forgetting her keys, Romeo looking for Indi, or the guy from the neighbouring property asking whether they have seen his dog. What Dex does not expect to find at his front door at 4:37 in the afternoon is Casey, standing before him, school bag slung low over his shoulder, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

--

[Jen]

Part Five

“Oh,” Dex says when he opens the door.

“Yeah, no one knows I’m here,” Casey says. Dex nods and steps out of the door frame and Casey wanders over the threshold.

The only other time Casey Braxton has been in Dex’s house was a week and a half ago, and at the time Dex was busy making sure the camera was set up in the just the right spot so as to fit both boys in the frame and avoid the glare of the sun streaming through the window. He certainly did not have time to notice how tall Casey actually was -- a good head taller than Dex -- or how his school shirt was just that bit tighter to show off his well defined body.

Now they are standing opposite each other in the hall, and Dex supposes he should probably offer Casey a drink or invite him to sit down in the living room. But Dex and Casey aren’t friends and Dex still doesn’t know why Casey is there, and not down at the beach with the rest of his kind.

“Why are you at my house?” Dex asks.

Casey looks uneasy. He ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck with his hand. “Do you still need to make that stupid video?”

Dex narrows his eyes at Casey, trying to figure out what exactly is going on. “Four out of five comments on my last blog don’t agree with you.”

“Huh?”

“My comments on Dex’s World are increasing by a factor of 2.7 every time I upload a new entry. By this time next week, I should hit double digits.” Dex has been tracking the progress of his blog intensely. Noting IP address, and frequency of comments, and overall number of views, Dex is aware that his viewership is increasing.

Casey shakes his head slightly, saying, “I wish I understood what you were saying.” Dex takes a deep breath, preparing to show Casey the document he has, keeping track of all his views since he began the blog. But then Casey is continuing, “I brought some props this time that might be of use.” Dex raises an eyebrow. “Well, I had to think about something during all those other boring presentations. There are only so many times you can listen to someone explaining how a potato clock works.” Dex just nods, because he can’t tell whether Casey is kidding or not.

Then Casey is letting his school bag drop to the floor. It clunks heavily on the wooden floorboards. He bends over and starts pulling out various items and handing them to Dex.

When they are back in the kitchen, Dex finally has a chance to take stock of just what Casey has brought -- A tub of hair gel (extra hold), a leather jacket, a packet of cigarettes, a leather cuff with sharp, metal spikes protruding from it (which actually draw blood as Dex found out), and a black marker.

As it turns out Casey has thought about this extensively. “You can’t do a video on Bad Boys without an actual Bad Boy,” he explains before he pulls off his school tie and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Dex instinctively looks away, taking a very up-close look at the ingredients in the hair gel.

Dex hears Casey chuckle, “You don’t have to close your eyes.”

Against his better judgement Dex looks over at Casey, who has discarded his shirt on the back of a chair and is now standing in Dex’s kitchen in nothing but a white singlet. Obviously he is still wearing pants, but Dex isn’t exactly looking at that. Instead his eyes appear to be glued to Casey’s chest, and the very obvious outline of his shoulders and upper arm muscles. Casey is then shrugging on the leather jacket and strapping on the cuff.

Suddenly things are beginning to make more sense. Casey is becoming the stereotypical bad boy. He’s transformed from boy-who-may-or-may-not-be-part-of-a-gang-who-stroll-up-and-down-the-beaches-of-Summer-Bay, into a re-incarnation of Danny Zuko, John Bender, and Dallas Winston all rolled into one.

“Chuck some of that in my hair if you want,” Casey is saying, nodding towards the tub of gel Dex is still gripping onto for dear life.

“Are -- are you sure?” Dex asks, and he’s only now realising how high his voice sounds.

Casey drags a chair over to where Dex is standing and sits directly in front of him. Now his nose is practically touching Dex’s belly button. Dex swallows hard as Casey tilts his head up, and for the first time Dex sees that Casey has brown eyes, but not just regular brown. There are flecks of gold and green, and Dex can’t seem to look away. That is, until Casey blinks and runs his fingers through his hair, breaking eye contact. Dex then struggles to twist off the lid to the gel, but eventually gets a generous amount on both of his hands.

Dex wrinkles his nose at the smell. “What do you want me to do?”

Casey shrugs. “Whatever, really,” which isn’t a very specific answer, so Dex kind of reaches out and touches the gel delicately to the top of Casey’s head. Dex’s hands seem to stick to Casey’s hair and Dex quickly realises that it’s drying hard before his very eyes. Without knowing what he’s doing, Dex begins running his fingers through Casey’s hair.

Casey doesn’t say anything, so Dex just focuses on his fingers and the sweeping motion of dragging Casey’s hair away from his forehead until all the gel is gone. Dex was so intent on just not allowing his fingers to become glued to Casey’s scalp that he hadn’t noticed Casey close his eyes. His face is relaxed, breathing even, as Dex trails his hands over Casey’s new hair one last time before taking a step back. Casey’s eyelids flutter open, and Dex is just able to nod when he asks, “How does it look?”

Without another word Dex sets up his camera on the table, he doesn’t even think about lighting. The only thing Dex is able to do is sense Casey at his side. He’s tugging at the sleeves of the leather jacket, and then the hem of his singlet and once he almost scratched his head, before remembering the vast amounts of product currently holding it in place.

Just as Dex is ready to press record he is having flashbacks to last time, and Casey storming out and then avoiding him, and for some reason Dex does not want a repeat performance. Casey is perched beside him on a stool staring at the camera and Dex thinks he might be having second thoughts. Dex wants to ask, wants to say something to put Casey at ease, but doesn’t know what to do.

“What was the black marker for?” Dex hears himself asking.

“I was thinking you might have wanted tattoos,” Casey says, looking back at Dex.

Dex’s eyes take in Casey’s transformation, before replying, “We wouldn’t have been able to see them under the jacket.” Dex feels the corner of his mouth curl up. “Unless you wanted to lose the shirt.”

Casey lets out a chuckle. “Maybe let’s save that for the sequel,” and without another moment Dex hits record.

--

[Jen]

Part Six

It was like Casey was a completely different person. Under the jacket and new hair he went from school boy who Dex barely knew, to full-blown hottie with an attitude to match.

Dex’s questions were easy to start with; some sort of weird tactic to make sure Casey didn’t get scared off.

Dex asks, “What’s your name?”

Casey replies, “Casey,” with a glance down the barrel of the camera and a raised eyebrow. Very suggestive.

But things quickly dissolve from there into talking about motorcycles (which apparently Casey says he can ride), quick witted anecdotes about robbing service stations and bottle shops (which Dex can’t decide if Casey is making up for the sake of keeping things interesting, or he’s actually done them), and,

“So, what you’re saying is that because of a Bad Boy’s attitude, he can attract any girl he wants?”

“Precisely. Girls like a chase. They are inevitably going to be attracted to guys they can’t have. The ones that have a range of problems so they can ‘fix them’.” Casey concludes with a wink.

Dex swivels himself so he’s facing the camera. “There you have it. Dex’s World’s raw and real interview with a Bad Boy, proving that if you own a white shirt and leather jacket, and aren’t afraid of ending up in prison, then you too can be the guy every girl dreams about.” Dex lets out a pleased sigh. “So, who’s your favourite Bad Boy?” Dex asks the audience through the camera lens.

“I’m impartial to Dallas Winston,” Casey interjects, smiling.

Dex nods, eyes flicking away from Casey. “Or are you already dating one? Dex’s World wants to know. Leave your answers in the comments. This is Dex, signing off.”

As soon as the red light is off, Dex can feel Casey watching him. They are both still sitting in place, side-by-side in front of the camera, although it’s no longer recording. Dex makes eye contact first, and then Casey is staring back.

It’s like they are momentarily suspended. In this in between scenario, where there’s no camera to play up in front of, no pretend audience to entertain. It’s just the two of them, and Dex feels as though he’s somehow more exposed than before. Even more than putting his own journal on the internet.

But then Casey’s face splits into a grin, and both boys dissolve into laughter.

Casey is shrugging himself out of the leather jacket and Dex is clicking at his laptop, saving the footage.

“You weren’t bad,” Dex comments.

Casey huffs, but he’s still smiling. “So, what do you say? Are we even now?”

It takes Dex a moment to realise what Casey is talking about. Oh, that’s right -- Casey’s buddies dumping him the bush. Dex had honestly forgotten about it. But Casey is now staring at him again, expecting an answer.

“Sure,” Dex hears himself saying.

“Yeah, well. I’d better go,” Casey says quickly. He reaches up, touching the top of his hair with his fingers. He winces. “Urgh. This is going to take forever to get out.”

There’s this awkward moment as both boys hover at the front door. Casey steps onto the front patio and turns back to look at Dex. It’s like he wants to say something. Dex is wondering whether he should thank Casey -- for the props, and being part of the video, and a not-altogether horrible afternoon -- but then Dex remembers why Casey had to do it in the first place, so he doesn’t.

Instead Dex gives him a curt nod and Casey begins to walk away.

Dex spends that night locked in his bedroom. He lies on his stomach on his bed, his laptop propped open in front of him. The footage is okay, not the best technically -- there are moments where Casey is telling an elaborate story with wild hand gestures and he goes out of frame -- but Dex watches it with rapped attention. He could edit it if he wanted. Get rid of the moment when Dex got so flustered by Casey demonstrating how he mounts his bike that there is a full thirty seconds of Dex just gaping and trying to regain his composure. He doesn’t though.

Dex uploads the video as is.

--

Dex thinks that must be the end of it. They are even now, so there is no reason for Casey to even look at Dex, let alone talk to him ever again. Which is why Dex is surprised to see Casey at the door of the classroom where Dex was studying during lunch.

“Why are you in here?” Casey asks.

Dex shrugs. “I prefer my own company to that of testosterone charged adolescents.” Casey raises an eyebrow. Dex sighs. “April went home sick and I’m not exactly swarming with offers to hang out.”

Dex expects Casey to make fun of him, some quick quip about Dex not having any friends because he’s as annoying as Hermione Granger on steroids, but he doesn’t say anything. Just pulls up a chair and sits down opposite him.

There is silence as Dex returns back to his book, re-reading it for the fourth time, just because he can. He expects Casey to leave out of sheer boredom, but Dex is slowly realising that he should stop expecting things with Casey Braxton.

Minutes pass before Dex sighs and closes the book, placing it on the desk underneath his folded hands, before he speaks. “Was there something you wanted?”

Casey looks bashful for the first time. He darts his eyes to the door, the patch of mould on the ceiling above them, before settling his sights on Dex’s book.

“I need your help,” Casey says simply.

Romeo is apparently dealing with girl drama, Xavier is too busy polishing his pride and joy, so Dex must be the last resort. “What could a River Boy need from me? Aren’t you supposed to be in a secret club that forbids assistance from outsiders?”

“It’s not a club. And you’re only an outsider until you’ve gone through the initiation.”

“Well, if it involves jumping off the edge of a cliff naked or getting a tattoo, you should know that I’m deathly afraid of heights, can’t swim, and have very sensitive skin.”

Casey chuckles. “Actually,” Casey sucks in a breath and nods towards the book. “I’m sort of not doing so great in English.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Dex insists.

“I’m failing,” Casey says with a shrug. “And Mr Copeland says I need to pull up my grade or I get put in the remedial class.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Dex asks, and Casey’s face falls. Dex immediately regrets it.

“I know everyone thinks I’m dumb.” Dex is about to argue, but Casey continues, unfaltering. “But, I’m not. I just -- I get so frustrated with myself, because I want to be good at things, you know? I don’t want to be a loser forever.”

Dex’s voice is barely a whisper, “But you’re popular.”

Casey shakes his head slowly, almost in disbelief. But then he seems to pull himself together, and is watching Dex intently. “Will you help me?”

Dex isn’t sure. Casey seems genuine, and for some reason, more than anything, Dex wants to be able to take him at face value. But Dex has seen that other side of Casey. The one when he’s with his brothers, on the beach, and he fits in so easily. Then again, Dex is good at this stuff. He’s had his essay written for weeks, and is now re-reading for fun. It would be selfish not to help out a fellow student. And then Dex has a flash of the inside of a car boot. The smell of stale air and the feeling of falling. Not knowing which direction you are going in, and being unable to stop yourself every time you turn a corner and are slammed into a wall.

Casey’s voice is low, “Please?”

Dex finds himself nodding.

“Sure, whatever.” Dex is trying to be offhand about this, not dwelling on the yellowing bruises he still has on his back. “Should I meet you at your house?”

“Um.” Casey looks uncomfortable. “Maybe we could do it at yours?” Dex raises an eyebrow, but Casey quickly continues, “It’s just that my mum works late and my brothers will probably be there and I know how you feel about them.”

Dex concedes. “Fair enough. I’ll see you at four.”

--

[Jen]

Part Seven

“Where is everyone?” Casey asks as soon as walks in, gazing around at the empty living room.

“Dad got called to work, Marilyn is out, and Indi is at uni,” Dex rattles off automatically. It’s become something of a regular occurrence -- coming home to an empty house. But Dex doesn’t mind. Honestly, he totally prefers his own company. However, now he has Casey hovering over his shoulder before letting his school bag, which he had been shouldering, drop to the floor. Dex looks back and sees Casey kind of staring, surveying the living room, noticing the assortment of photographs along the bookshelf, the general ‘hominess’ of it all. “I guess we should get started.”

Casey nods and follows Dex to the table.

“Uh, Dex,” Casey seems uncertain, timid. He shifts uncomfortably, perching on the edge of the wooden chair opposite Dex. Dex waits, expectantly. “Thanks -- for doing this.”

“It’s nothing,” Dex replies, attempting at being offhanded. He reaches out for his novel and opens it to a random page; he doesn’t particularly care which one. It’s just that Casey is staring at him, and he’s being sincere, and there is no malice or hard edge to his tone, and Dex doesn’t know what to think. “Don’t thank me. You haven’t passed yet. I could be a horrible tutor and you’ll continue to fail even with my expert tutelage and passion for literature.”

Dex sneaks a glance up and catches Casey shaking his head almost to himself. “You are something else, Dex.” Dex just shrugs in reply.

--

Casey is hunched over his page in extreme concentration. It’s like Dex is back in the Diner, watching Casey, completely focussed on the work in front of him, but Dex can tell that with every passing moment, the crease in his forehead gets deeper, grip on his pen tighter.

“We just talked about this,” Dex encourages. “Ponyboy is the character that brings optimism to the plot. He is only fourteen, so even though he’s been raised a certain way his conceptions change as the book progresses.”

Casey lets out a low hiss, like a tire deflating and he throws his pen down on the table. “I can’t do it, Dex.” Dex can hear the disappointment seep into Casey’s tone, and God, Dex has never heard him sound so vulnerable before.

“What? No, you’re doing fine,” Dex insists. “I know you know this. All you have to do is write it down.”

“What’s the point?” Casey asks, dropping his head onto the wooden table with a dull thud.

“The point?” Dex parrots. “I thought the point was that you wanted to pass English. That you didn’t want to be seen as just another River Boy. That you actually wanted to make something of your life apart from stealing cars and beating up nerds. That you wanted to prove to people that you weren’t stupid.” Casey doesn’t move. “And you’re not. Stupid that is.”

Casey is still face down on the table, but after a pause his muffled voice asks, “How do you know all that?”

“I’m very perceptive.”

Slowly, Casey heaves his head upright. He rests his elbows on the table, chin in his hands, mouth set in a thin line. “And what if you’re wrong?”

“You don’t get a ninety percent grade average by getting things wrong,” Dex replies, quirking his lips up into a half-smile. Casey sighs, but Dex sees the muscles in his neck relax slightly. “And besides,” Dex adds. “You came to me. That was a dead giveaway.”

“Okay then, Poindexter,” Casey says. “What’s the solution to the problem here?”

Dex looks down, at the scattered notebooks and novels that have been pushed aside, to the crumbled up balls of paper that have been discarded. Casey isn’t dumb, he’s shown Dex that himself. Surely, if Mr Copeland could just see Casey at work, he wouldn’t think of failing him. Dex just needs to be able to capture what Casey knows, what he understands, and give it to their teacher.

And just like that it hits him, like a metaphorical ton of bricks. Dex is rushing up from the table, startling Casey out of his downward spiral.

Casey has a quizzical look on his face when Dex returns moments later, panting slightly, already opening his laptop and placing it on the table.

“I’m fairly certain Mr Copeland is going to know if I get my essay off the ‘net,” Casey says.

Dex ignores him, bringing up a window and clicking a button, before angling the computer towards Casey. Casey is kind of staring, not really understanding Dex’s sudden movements.

“What’s the theme of the novel?” Dex asks in a rush.

“Uh, that love and loss is universal. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Soc or a Greaser, all the young characters go through these emotions, and therefore it bridges the gap between the rich and poor. We’ve been through this, Dex.”

“And what is the importance of the Greaser hair?”

“It’s the identity of Ponyboy and the others. They don’t have money to spend on cars or clothes, like the Socs, so they grow and grease their hair. When Johnny cuts Ponyboy’s hair it’s like he’s lost a part of himself, and he becomes unrecognisable.”

Dex picks up the assignment sheet in front of him and begins to read the essay question aloud. Casey’s eyes get wider with every moment, realisation dawning on him as his eyes flick down to the computer, the screen mirroring his own portrait, recording every movement and sound.

--

When Mr Copeland hands back their assignments Dex isn’t surprised to see a giant red A in the top right hand corner of his page. But for the first time Dex isn’t interested in his own mark or keeping up his own grade point average. Instead he watches intently as Mr Copeland strolls up and down the aisles, dropping papers on the relevant students’ desks.

Because teachers are sadists who occasionally like to torture students, of course Casey is last.

Mr Copeland hovers over Casey’s desk for a moment, his expression contemplative. “A very unique submission, Mr Braxton,” he muses. He places the DVD and accompanying transcript, which Dex spent that night typing after they had finished recording, in front of Casey. “You definitely demonstrated your understanding of the major themes of the novel, and answered the question. I was impressed.” Casey’s eyes glance down at the page and Dex can see him trying not to smile.

Because, despite the fact that he probably just passed his first English assignment of the year, Casey is still a River Boy, and River Boys don’t show their emotions, especially when it’s related to academics -- because that would make him a nerd and on the same level as Dex, and no one is ready for that.

Dex included.

--

[Jen]

Part Eight

Dex has been so focused on Casey and his assignment that he readily acknowledges that he’s let his blogging schedule suffer. The last video upload was now two weeks ago, the one Dex did with Casey. He hasn’t even had a chance to log in and check to see whether he’s reached double digits in comments yet.

So, as soon as the final bell rings, Dex is out the classroom door and taking his laptop straight to the library.

The librarian smiles politely as Dex bustles through the door, Dex nods in reply. Dex has a policy of always being friendly to library staff -- because if you are nice to them they sometimes let you loan out the reference books. Plus, the library has free Wi-Fi. So it’s not a good idea to get them off-side.

Its quiet, which is the whole point of a library, but that’s exactly what Dex wants. No distractions. No Casey, and no English assignment. No Indi at home with her late night phone conversations to Romeo that Dex can hear through the walls of his bedroom. No Marilyn and Sid having ‘couple time’ in their room, and on those nights Dex prefers to put his iPod in and completely blank everything out. The library has become Dex’s sanctuary and -- Oh my God!

Dex can’t believe his eyes.

He hits refresh and stares. Yep, that number is real.

Dex hits refresh again. How is it that it is still going up?

The hits keep coming, and Dex is scrolling through pages of comments. Everything ranging from,

Great video. Dex is my spirit animal. As a Slytherin, I consider Draco Malfoy as one of my preferred bad boys. It’s just something about them that make them so appealing.

to,

Casey. UNF. Hot.

And while Dex is appalled at the lack of proper spelling and grammar in some of the comments, he can still decipher enough of the abbreviations to figure out that people like it. They really like the video.

Of course there are comments that read, wat wnkrs, but even that can’t stop the smile from creeping across Dex’s face. Somehow, by some weird twist of space and time and the internet, Dex’s World is suddenly important enough to get anonymous hate.

But more important than that, the views on the video are approaching the twelve hundred mark, and Dex is sure that if he continues to sit and refresh the page, in the next half hour it’ll probably surpass that.

Slamming down the cover of his computer Dex picks it up and bolts from the library, not even sparing a wave to the lady sitting behind the counter.

Maybe it’s adrenaline, or power, or something that is linked to popularity, because Dex is not athletic. His dad signed him up for tee-ball the year he turned seven, but Dex was so bad at it he spent his summer holidays sitting on the bench. He made contact between bat and ball once -- but then forgot to run, so was immediately out. If there was a Least Valuable Player award, Dex was a shoo-in. But right now Dex isn’t thinking about how ridiculous he must look with his chicken legs and laptop tucked up under his arm running out of the school and towards the beach.

Dex doesn’t even know how he knows where Casey lives. He vaguely recalls it coming up when the River Boys were being questioned when Dex was abducted, and normally Dex wouldn’t have taken any notice. But for some reason this little piece of information lodged itself in the back of Dex’s brain, and now it’s his destination.

Dex reaches the corner of the street panting and out of breath. He bends over, wheezing, and again realising that his body is not made for physical exertion. Dex swallows and hugs his computer to his chest, making sure he doesn’t drop it. Once he has regained some sort of normal breathing rhythm Dex walks down the street and stops outside the Braxton residence.

It’s an old house, with a small set of wooden stairs leading up to the front door. As Dex steps on the first one, it creaks, so Dex doesn’t linger. He begins worrying that the whole thing is going to collapse under his meagre weight.

Knocking on the front door, Dex shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. His breathing is still a little erratic, and Dex can feel the heat in his cheeks. His face is definitely flushed, so it’s a little embarrassing to be turning up to Casey’s house unannounced.

There are voices coming from inside. Shouting, a loud thud, and Dex debates turning around and running just as fast in the opposite direction. If he was a River Boy, Dex has no doubt that he would just turn the door knob and stroll in like he owned the joint. But Dex is not a River Boy; he is a scrawny teenager of average height and low body mass, with the nerves of a moderately ferocious Pomeranian.

Dex knocks again, but still no answer.

The thing is, Dex and Casey aren’t friends. They don’t hang out after school at the Diner sipping milkshakes, or head to the beach together to catch some waves, or cruise around town trying to pick up girls. These are the things Dex assumes you would do with a friend of some description, and Dex does not fit that bill. Dex helps Casey pass English, and Casey translates Dex’s research into mildly entertaining presentations for their Science class. They are definitely not friends.

Which is why Dex isn’t sure what possesses him to open the door and walk in.

At first Dex does nothing but stare. He intends to make himself known, he really does. But then there is just so much to take in that Dex kind of loses his ability to talk.

Immediately inside the front door is the living room-come-kitchen. The carpet is mustard yellow, and Dex can see a dark stain just inside the door. There’s a tv on the far wall, a black couch in front of it, and Dex thinks he can see a set of feet dangling off the edge. There are empty bottles scattered around, on the book shelf which is currently being used as a prop to hold up the small air-conditioning unit. It rattles and splutters, but goes unnoticed. That’s because towards the connecting kitchen Dex sees Casey. Or rather, some of Casey. At the moment he’s got his hands held up to this face, arms protecting his features, while Heath -- with his short cropped hair, naked torso, and bulging muscles -- lays into him.

There’s not a lot of talking going on. Just the occasional yelp that Casey lets out when Heath delivers a punch that makes contact.

Dex gasps and wants to just back out and run. He could easily turn around and go back the way he came and then no one would know he was there, and everything could go back to the way it was. Who cares about the blog and the comments, it doesn’t matter anymore.

But then Heath seems to sense someone else in the room, and he pauses with his fist in the air. He turns around and sees Dex in the doorway. Dex’s eyes flick from Heath’s menacing face to Casey, who is slowly bring his arms down, revealing a red mark on his cheek, and the beginnings of a black eye.

“What d’you want?” Heath demands.

He’s glaring at Dex, waiting for an answer. Dex glances across at Casey who is staring back, face blank and without emotion.

Dex isn’t able to stammer out any sort of reply. He just shuffles out of the doorframe back onto the front steps. The door slams in his face and Dex stands there for a minute in complete shock.

The only image that seems to be going around Dex’s mind is Casey. And Casey’s face, and the sound of skin on skin as Heath hit him. The way Casey seemed to hardly defend himself, and Dex’s inability to do anything about it. Slowly, Dex turns his back and walks away, across the yellowing lawn and down the street. He doesn’t stop walking until he reaches the beach.

--

[Jen]

Part Nine

The sand greets him warmly and Dex settles himself in the dunes.

It’s peaceful. The water surging in with the waves, and ebbing out with the tide. It’s predictable, safe, and Dex finds himself timing his breathing to a steady pace with each turn. He doesn’t know how long he sits there. Maybe a few minutes, maybe a couple of hours, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is Dex being able to make sense of everything -- the paleness of Casey’s face, expressionless, as he saw Dex standing there.

It’s good to be a coward, Dex decides. It was naive of him to think Casey would be interested in the moderate success of a video they made together in Dex’s living room. He clearly has bigger issues to deal with -- Issues that don’t involve Dex. It is none of Dex’s business as to what goes on in Casey’s home life, and surely if anything was significantly wrong, Casey would have said something. Not necessarily to Dex, but to a teacher or a responsible adult.

What could Dex have done, really? Gone in there and tackled Heath himself?

Dex is the boy who had his head flushed into the toilet on his first day of high school by a couple of seniors. Dex is always the first hit target in dodge ball, and the last picked for any sort of team. Dex is not made to be anyone’s hero or knight in shining armour -- which would imply Casey is a princess who needs saving, which is clearly not the case. He is able to handle himself.

Or at least, that’s what Dex convinces himself as the sun begins to set over the ocean.

Dex looks up, slightly startled as Casey sits down beside him on the sand.

In the orange light of the sunset Dex can make out the shiner of Casey’s right eye, and slightly fat lip.

“I didn’t expect to see you turn up at my house,” Casey says conversationally, like Dex totally didn’t witness him getting beaten up by his brother in his own kitchen.

So, as far as Dex sees it, he has two options. He can pretend he saw nothing. That the Casey sitting beside him just had an accident surfing, and that’s why he’s beaten and bruised, and nothing more. And Dex can tell him about the video, and Casey will probably roll his eyes and ask for a cut in whatever non-existent profits they make, and that will be all.

Or.

Or, Dex can call him out. Dex can ask Casey what is going on, and why he is apparently not safe in his own house. Casey will probably tell him that it’s none of his business and will insist that Dex stays out of it, and that he saw nothing, and Dex will be forever haunted with the images of Heath’s fist colliding with Casey’s jaw.

“You don’t have to put up with that, you know.” Dex doesn’t know how he’s staying so calm. The ball is in Casey’s court. Dex may not want to get involved, but that doesn’t mean he can’t tell that what is going on is wrong.

Casey lets out a strained laugh. “Yeah, well. I can’t exactly stroll up to my brother and ask him to quit picking on me. He has every reason to.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing,” Casey says, shaking his head. “I’m just not that confident, I guess.”

Dex seems to perk up a bit. “Well, then we’ll role play.” He’s shifting in the sand so he’s angled towards Casey.

“Are you serious?”

“It’ll be fine,” Dex insists.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Casey says, more to himself that anything as soon as it becomes apparent that Dex is absolutely serious.

“Now, you just be you, so -- perfect! And I’ll be one of your brothers.” Then Dex is slouching forward and messing up his hair with his hand, and the next time Dex opens his mouth to talk, his voice is about an octave lower. “’Sup, Casey.”

Casey snickers, because this whole this is ridiculous. Dex is pretending to be Casey’s brother in an effort to help him become more confident. It’s ludicrous.

“Uh, hi,” Casey finally says, albeit very reluctantly, when Dex appears as though he is not going to be giving up easily.

“D’you wanna talk? ‘Cause, you know. We’re like, brothers.”

“Is that how you think River Boys actually talk?” Casey asks.

Dex rolls his eyes, voice returning to normal. “Breaking character,” he sing-songs and Casey sighs.

Dex doesn’t even try to hide that he’s intrigued. And maybe Dex has always been one for theatrics, but he genuinely thinks there is something that somehow joins the dots between Casey and his video and his brothers. Dex just can’t seem to find a line that connects all the points so they make sense.

So Dex is staring and watching, and Casey is watching him back, and for some reason it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, just kind of -- nice.

“Maybe the role playing was a dumb idea,” Dex confesses. “But I tend to do dumb things a lot of the time. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’d noticed,” Casey replies with a chuckle.

“At least a got a bit of a smile,” Dex continues. “I don’t really do well with confrontation. I tend to just spout facts and quote teen movies and hope I can keep the bullies talking long enough so I can make an escape.”

“And how does that work out for you?”

Dex shrugs. “I have a permanent change of clothes in my locker. But I’m pleased to say that the water in the toilet bowls is some of the cleanest in the school.” Casey wrinkles his nose at that thought. “I’m a nerd. It’s the cycle of life. Or at least, my destiny until I get out of this place.”

Silence falls over the boys once more, and Dex sneaks a glance at Casey. He looks confused, his brow furrowed, and he’s staring so intently at the ocean, Dex is thinking he might be willing it to turn to ice. “At least you can be honest about things,” Casey says. “You say you’re a nerd like it’s no big deal. And that must be hard, knowing that you are going to get bullied because of it.”

“I try not to think about it,” Dex replies. But he can’t help but think that Casey is skirting around something bigger.

“I just wish --” Casey lets his head drop, eyes closing, heavy lidded. “I just wish I could be that honest as well. With myself, with my family, but I think it would just make everything worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are one hundred percent sure of who you are, and that’s great. I know this is the time you’re supposed to figure stuff out, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.” Casey’s eyes flutter open, and he trails them over Dex’s face. “But I can’t just go up to Heath and say, ‘and by the way, you should also know that I’m not exactly a zero on the Kinsey scale’.”

Wait. What?

Dex has to blink, once, twice, before his brain has a chance to process what Casey has just said.

Dex’s mouth is hanging open, just a bit, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep it closed. Not that he’s in a position to really say anything. What are you supposed to say to someone who has just, sort of, come out to you?

And, Dex has to keep reminding himself, they aren’t actually friends.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dex finds himself asking. His voice is suddenly quiet, small, timid.

Casey shakes his head furiously, and lets out a bitter laugh. “See, this is what I mean! It’s already like you’re going to treat me different. Imagine what my family is going to think! God, I get a black eye every time I get detention. It’s going to be so much worse if they find out I might be gay too.” And there is this tremor in Casey’s voice, that he’s doing his best to hide, but Dex hears it anyway. Casey lets out a strangled sigh, and Dex knows he’s blinking back tears. He doesn’t say anything, though. Just focuses his eyes on the sea, and waits.

The sun is well and truly set now, and Dex knows he’s going to be in trouble if he doesn’t make it home in time for dinner, but he doesn’t really care. He waits until Casey clears his throat and is looking up and down the beach for signs of life.

“So, uh,” Casey begins unsurely, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. “Why did you come to my house exactly?”

“Oh.” Dex has almost forgotten about this entirely. Was he really standing on Casey’s doorstep only a couple of hours ago? “The video.” Casey looks across at him with curiosity. “The ‘Bad Boy’ video is a success. Comments, views, the lot.”

“Huh,” Casey replies.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that we are officially internet famous now. I’m getting Facebook friend requests every minute.”

“Well, we need to celebrate,” Casey suggests.

“Really?” Dex questions.

“Yeah, a party. That’s what normal people do apparently,” Casey replies. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I’m not normal.”

“Me either.”

--

[Jen]

Part Ten

Casey volunteered to organise the party. Dex wanted to help, but Casey insisted, saying he “needed the distraction”. Dex’s only job was to make sure the house was empty.

Dex remembers when his father first found his blog. The conversation -- or rather, lecture -- that followed still occasionally crops up in the back of Dex’s mind. The words of Sid Walker asking his only son why he couldn’t be more normal. This, Dex thinks, is exactly what he’s doing.

Normal teenagers go to parties. Normal teenagers throw parties. Normal teenagers lie to their parents in order to fulfil one of the aforementioned activities. So, if Dex ends up getting caught for this, he can’t possibly be in trouble, because he’s only doing what his dad has wanted all along. At least, that’s how Dex justifies scraping to the bottom of his bank account to fork out money for an early anniversary present for Sid and Marilyn.

Sid looks sceptical, while Marilyn is positively beaming as Dex produces the print out of the travel information. Dex is listing off features such as “private ensuite, king size bed [wink, wink], pool, spa, sauna, room service,” until Sid holds up his hand. Dex trails off after, “seventy-two movie channels ...”

“Let me get this straight,” Sid says. “You, of your own free will and out of your own wallet, bought Marilyn and I an anniversary present.”

“Yes.”

“For a weekend at the Mercure Hotel.”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me for being a bit crude,” Sid continues, eyeing Dex up and down. Dex remains firm, standing up straight, hands clasped together behind his back, so Sid can’t tell that they are sweating. “But, what do you want?”

“Want?” Dex asks, praying that all his theatrical performances as a child have paid off.

“Oh, Sid,” Marilyn chides. “Dex has done a really nice thing for us. Why would you even suggest that he has an ulterior motive?”

“Marilyn is right,” Dex replies. “You know me, dad. My hobbies include reading journal articles and alphabetising my music collection. I just thought you and Marilyn work so hard looking after me and Indi, that you deserved a break.” Dex widens his eyes, and finally thanks the Lord for his slightly high-pitched voice. He is playing the innocent baby of the family to a tee.

“While that may be true, you are still a teenage boy,” Sid reminds him.

Dex sighs. “Alright, fine. You got me.” Sid’s eyebrows arch up into his forehead, and Marilyn sits up straighter in her chair. “I invited April over tonight. I was hoping we could have the place to ourselves.”

Marilyn and Sid exchange a look, which Dex is trying to interpret. After a moment Sid says, “Well, you could have just said that from the start, and it would have saved you a lot of effort.” Dex nods sincerely. “But, since you’ve booked the room it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

So, in the end, everyone got what they wanted. Sid and Marilyn are packing their suitcases for a romantic weekend away, while Dex is throwing the first, of possibly many, celebratory parties.

Marilyn is sitting in the passenger seat of the car, while Sid closes the back door. He stalls in the driveway, the driver’s door open, hesitating before he gets in.

“Now, I want you on your best behaviour. Indi is in charge, April --”

“-- April doesn’t stay the night,” Dex parrots back. “I know, dad.”

“And you’ve got the number of the hotel?”

“Yes, dad,” Indi calls from the doorway, waving as Sid reluctantly slides into his seat, closes the door and starts the engine.

Dex remains on the front porch, waving as the car disappears down the driveway and turns out of sight.

As soon as the car is gone, Indi is out the door. “See ya, Dex. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone!” she calls rapidly, already calling Romeo on her phone asking him to come and pick her up.

Dex shakes his head slowly, but he lets a small smile appear on his face as he walks back into the house.

It’s empty, and quiet. But not for long.

Dex can’t believe he’s done it. That he’s actually successfully thrown his first party that does not involve Pass-the-Parcel or Pin the Tail on the Donkey. On the contrary, Casey has come through with the organisation of everything else.

By eight o’clock the house began filling up. Guys and girls who Dex has never seen before turning up on his doorstep, armed with cartons of beer and bottles of liquor. Dex didn’t have to do anything except let them in and then stand back.

Dex doesn’t quite know what he was expecting. He’s watched enough American teen movies to know what parties are supposed to look like. Beer in red disposable cups, loud banging music, girls stripping off articles of clothing as they become more intoxicated, and guys yelling out encouragement. By those standards, this party is pretty tame. There are guys and girls scattered throughout the house -- although Dex did have the sense to think ahead and lock his bedroom door. Alcoholic beverages are being sipped from the bottle, and there is the distinct beat of some electronic music coming from the stereo. But no one is groping each other in the hallway (thank God), and there is a distinct lack of conversation between Dex and anyone else.

From the corner of the room, Dex has a pretty clear view of everything going on. He sees April approaching -- Dex had texted her, and invited her to come, because she had seemed a little down -- and Dex is glad that he knows at least one person.

“Hey,” April says, talking a little louder than normal to be heard over the music. “Do you actually know any of these people?”

Dex shakes his head.

April stands beside him for a while, gazing around the room. He catches her staring a few times, before she flicks her eyes away to another group of people.

“I’d better go,” April says after a while.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Dex asks, and April just nods in reply. She gives him a curt wave and disappears out the door. So Dex is left alone once more.

Dex hates to say it, but he’s bored. The crowd is getting slightly wilder, louder, as the amount of alcohol being ingested increases, but nothing is actually happening. No one is talking to Dex, and Dex is fairly certain that they don’t even know why the party is being held. So, Dex has taken himself outside, and is now sitting at a table, by himself, on the front patio.

Being normal, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Dex concludes. And he’s just deciding how he can actually get rid of everyone when there is a loud bang. Dex whirls around and sees a beat up old car whiz into his driveway, kicking up gravel under its tires. Dex stands slowly, wandering towards the noise, as a new wave of people pile out of the vehicle.

Dex can pick the River Boys anywhere. No shirts, jeans only, and one of them is carrying a keg towards the house. As if appearing from nowhere, Casey is bounding up the driveway.

“Hey man, great job on the party!”

Dex nods towards the guys filing in through the front door of his house, to a lot of cheering and yelling. “I don’t think I know anyone at this party.”

“You know me, right?” Casey replies, nudging Dex affectionately in the side.

“Are these all friends of yours?” Dex asks as he follows Casey inside.

“Some of them,” Casey replies with a shrug.

--