Ctrl + Alt + Dalt (BxB)

Ctrl + Alt + Dalt + 4

Fed up with it all, I grab the keys to Father's Corvette—the one and only car that sits under a tarp cover even though its always parked inside the garage. Since everybody knows my car—especially Brogan and Base, who can both recite my license plate from memory—driving around in my father's car should make it harder for them to see me coming. Even if I'll be in a loud, brand new and very red Corvette—and one that looks akin to an Italian super-car—at least they won't know that it's me.

It's nearly noon as I decide to head for Base's house, since Base has always been more supportive and more open and more genuine than Brogan ever was—naturally, that makes him my first pick to go to, at least, when choosing between the two of them. Under these circumstances though, I can only hope those aforementioned qualities hold up to any sense of the word 'genuine'. Inserting the key into the ignition, my hands tremble as I suppress the creeping memories of getting beaten by bullies who used to call themselves my friends. Although, I feel as if neither Brogan nor Base would ever turn violent against me, I can't be certain of that.

~ ~ ~

Through the tinted glass of the Corvette, I spot his car in the driveway—only his, and not any of his parent's. Now that I know that he's home, I also have the added bonus that his parents won't be here to complicate matters. Walking right up to his front door, I ring the doorbell and wait. No answer. I ring the bell again. This time there are footsteps that saunter over to and behind the door and stop, but the door doesn't open. I shake my head, knowing that he sees me in the peephole viewer.

"Base! I know you're there! I just want to talk!" I call from a respectful distance from the big, white, double doors of his house while staring right at the lens of the peephole—emphasizing that I know that he's standing right there. To my great surprise, the door creeps open, revealing Base in his casual, gray shorts and white polo. He looks around as if to see if anybody is watching us. Out of pure instinct, I find myself looking around even though I'm pretty certain there isn't anybody anywhere nearby—what does he expect to see, anyhow? Perhaps someone from the popular group hiding behind his rose bushes? I laugh, inwardly.

"Come inside before somebody sees me talking to you," Base says, opening the door a little bit wider and stepping back to give me space to enter. Although I'm a bit in shock that he's not only talking to me, but he's actually letting me into his house, I do as he says and quickly get inside.

"Good to see you too, Base," I say as I walk on in past him. He takes another look around outside before quietly closing the door as if the very sound of it shutting might alarm someone lurking nearby.

"In the theater," he commands as soon as he locks the door, not yet looking back to me.

"Okay..." I say, dragging out the last syllable. We walk in silence down the hallway and into the part of the house where an attached garage has long ago been converted and renovated into a private movie theater, complete with velvety red carpeting and walls and curtains and enough reclining seats to accommodate twenty. He motions with an open hand, gesturing for me to take a seat wherever I choose to, so I sit down in one of the middle seats at the front row, facing the massive screen. I return my attention to Base, who remains standing, still in the doorway. "Base—"

"Dalt, I'm really sorry—"

"That I'm gay?"

"Come on, you know I'm not like that—"

"What? Homophobic? Do I? Really? Because not only are you standing practically at the other end of the room, away from me, but the last I checked, my friendship with you looks like it never even existed to begin with—"

"I know, I'm sorry about that—"

"Are you?" I ask, skeptically. "Then, why did you do it?"

"It's not me—and you already know that, because why else would you show up to see me, first, instead of—"