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Chapter One Hundred-Twenty-Eight
Point of View: Nick


When I was dragged down to the cafeteria for breakfast the next morning, I was actually hungry. I sat down with a bowl of Cheerios in the same corner I'd been in the day before and actually was eating. Eric came back over. "Hey, good morning," he said. He watched me eating. "You were hungry."

"I didn't eat last night."

"Yeah."

He started eating his own cereal. I had a feeling he'd decided we were friends. I guess I was okay with that. As long as he didn't try to hit on me we'd be good. I mean I got nothing wrong with gay guys, they're funny most of the time. Some of my best friends are gay. But I'm not.

Eric studied me. "So, how do you like it here so far? You were transferred from... LA, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"House arrest before?"

"My house burned down."

"Sucks."

"Tell me about it."

I was almost done, sipping the milk out of the bottom of the bowl desperately trying to make the food last a little longer, when a couple other guys made their way to our table. Eric saw them and shrank back. "Shit," he muttered.

I looked up at the guys. They didn't seem much bigger than AJ or Howie, actually. Small little dudes. One of them had a tattoo, but for the most part they didn't seem menacing at all. I glanced at Eric, who had pressed against the wall. "What?" I asked.

"They're assholes, don't look at'em, maybe they won't come over here."

"I'm pretty sure they're coming right for us, actually," I said.

"Well ignore them." Eric stared at the wall.

I looked back at the guys. Sure enough, they came right to our table. The guy with the tattoo leaned in front of Eric. "How're you today, Assfuck?" he asked.

Eric mumbled into the cereal bowl.

Tattoo looked up at me. "You his new friend?" he asked pointedly.

I looked at Eric, then back up at the wannabe-thug. I rolled my eyes, "Really? Seriously? You're pickin' on him? What is this? Fourth grade?"

Tattoo squinted at me. "Hey you're that Backstreet Boy..." he snorted, "Backdoor Boy..."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up..." I said, shaking my head. "Like I said, fourth grade." I looked at Tattoo. He stared at my eyes. I stared right back. I stood up. My height towered over him. He backed down quickly the moment he saw how much bigger I was.

"C'mon, we'll leave the lovers alone..." he muttered, and his posse walked away.

Eric glanced after their retreating backs, then looked at me.

"It was cool having breakfast with ya," I said, as I picked up my bowl. "See ya later maybe."

I started to walk away when Eric called, "Hey, thanks for that."

I turned around and looked at him. He didn't look like an inmate, he looked like a normal guy who'd gotten the short end of the stick. He was younger than me, like twenty-three. He was just a kid. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe he wasn't a criminal or a murderer - just a jealous guy who'd been screwed over and made a bad choice. "Yeah, no problem," I said. I paused. "Hey, Eric? Don't let stupid fucks like them push you around... They aren't worth it."

Eric nodded.