A/N: Would you be interested in Hunter’s POV?

Oh, and a quick note about your notifications: If they say I updated twice today – yes, I did. Once The Help Book and once Hunt me Down.

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Nathaniel’s POV

A little crowd had gathered around him. Or was it just my imagination?

I paid more attention to him than to them so maybe that altered my point of view; maybe they weren’t gathered around him, maybe they just stood next to him.

I wondered how many of them – if any – knew about him being gay. I couldn’t imagine all of them being cool with that. They seemed like a rowdy, violent bunch, even the girls. I’d seen two of them slapping one another and pulling each other’s hair at the parking lot this morning. Yet the very same girls were now casually leaning on each other and laughing at something one of the boys had said. Whatever they’d argued about earlier, it seemed they were over it now at lunchtime. One of them – that with the Mohawk haircut who stood next to Hunter – turned her head to the side and saw me staring. She grinned before blowing me a kiss and I looked away, planting my eyes on food, my pizza not even nibbled on.

“Got caught staring?” Irene teased, lightly jabbing me with her elbow. “I didn’t think she’d be your type.”

“I wasn’t…” I started to protest but changed my mind mid-sentence. I didn’t want to admit it was Hunter Harris I’d been looking at ever since we’d entered the cafeteria.

“You were,” she insisted, biting into her homemade lunch.

I strained my mind, thinking of a way to change the subject without it appearing I was trying too hard. Vallery seemed to realize I was in a jam, because she said loudly:

“This pizza sucks. I want to try that ninety-nine cheeses one they mentioned in TMNT.”

“And you’ll probably die from all that cheese and grease after the first few bites,” I went on with the distraction she’d so gracefully provided.

“But I’ll die happy,” she noted with a wishful grin, swiftly washed away by Matthew’s input:

“Gluttony is a sin, Vallery.”

“So is ripping out your arm and slapping you across the face with it but if I go to court for that and the judge knows you, I’ll no doubt get acquitted.”

To the boy’s credit, he only startled for a moment. He then adopted a determined expression, his features hardening and his back straightening.

“One often makes such sneering comments when they feel insecure,” he started a speech that looked well-rehearsed. “If that is your reason for acting this way, I can help you get over your insecurities.” Vallery’s eyes closed and her hands darted up so she could rub her temples. I saw her lips move in a pattern as she chanted “don’t hit him, don’t hit him”.

“If you’d only come with me to church this Sunday, Vallery…”

“Church?” Her hands froze before she stood up. “I’m outta here.”

I got up as well but she shook her head so I sat back down. I watched as my sister walked towards the cafeteria door, nodding to Hunter on her way out who replied with the same gesture of acknowledgement, garnished with a little smile.

Why was he so friendly to my twin?

And more importantly – why was she to him?

Four days ago, she’d offered we switched rooms and I had to convince her not to fight or threaten that boy and today she’d greeted him twice – once when we were leaving for school and now. What was I missing?

Were they becoming friends?

I frowned; I didn’t want Vallery to hang around with a criminal. Not that it would be a first for her. How did she pick these people?

It was as if she got a kick out of getting chummy with the most dangerous types around her. I was not going to allow that again. This boy was staying away from both of us.

Even though she’d signaled me to stay, I rose up and sprinted out the cafeteria, Hunter’s steely grey eyes on me as I moved past his group. I ran towards the lockers and caught a sight of her before she reached ours.

“Val, wait up!”

“I am trying, bro, but that boy is just asking for it. It was either leaving or smacking him a good one,” she began to explain but I shook my head.

“No, I’m not here about Matthew.” I took a breath to regulate my breathing; perhaps I was getting out of shape. “I’m actually pretty proud you haven’t flipped around him.”

“You are?” Her face beamed and I nodded. “Then what did you want to talk about?”

“Hunter Harris.” She seemed surprise. “You are… friendly towards him.”

“So?”

I looked around; there were a few students loitering around the hallway but most were outside or in the cafeteria. I still lowered my voice, just in case.

“You remember what I told you about him, right? About him having been in jail?”

“So?” She repeated her question.

“I don’t want you around him, Vallery; he’s dangerous.”

She crossed her hands over her chest.

“Why are you so obsessed with that boy?”

I gaped at her.

“Obsessed? I am not obsessed,” I protested louder than I should have and a group of students – two boys and a girl – turned to look at me but went on their merry way once they realized nothing interesting such as a fight was about to happen.

“You keep avoiding him at home,” she put in. “If he’s in the yard, you stay inside; if he’s getting ready for school, you make sure he leaves before you get out of the house…”

“I told you: I don’t like this guy.”

“If that was so, your behavior at home would make sense. But when we are at school, you keep staring at him. Even Irene noticed it today although she thought it was Lyn’s fault. The Mohawk girl – her name is Lindsey,” she added when I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Lindsey? It sounds like a cheerleader’s name; it doesn’t suit her at all,” I noted and began walking towards our lockers.

“Probably why she prefers going with ‘Lyn’. And don’t try to change the subject,” she ordered, walking beside me.

“Which is?”

“Are you really keeping an eye on Hunter so it will be easier to avoid him or is there another reason?”

“What other reason could there be, Val?”

We had now reached our lockers and I realized I already had everything I needed for the next class in my messenger bag. I opened my locker and began rummaging through it to have an excuse to look away from her.

“Maybe his flirting got to you,” she suggested leaning on her locker.

“I’m straight, Val,” I pointed out. “All it does is making me feel awkward.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” I took a random notebook and put it in my bag. “And I still don’t want you to see him.”

“So I should hide behind the window curtain to make sure he leaves before I do?” She sneered.

“I was not hiding; I was observing,” I protested.

“You looked like one of those old ladies who live alone and spend their time spying on their neighbors. At least I know what to get you for our birthday this year – a nice pair of binoculars.”

“This is not a joke, Valery,” I slammed my locker shut. “Hunter Harris is not good for either of us and we should avoid him.”

“I kind of like him,” she admitted. “So I don’t plan to avoid him.”

“Vallery, you can’t…”

I was cut off by the bell signaling the end of lunch.

“Better hurry to class, bro. We can’t have an honor student being late,” she winked and walked away.

*****

If I could not convince my sister to stay away from Hunter, maybe I could convince him to leave us alone. That thought was what had brought me in front of his house after school. I would get no opposition from Val as she was at the gym again. All I had to do now was talk to that boy, tell him my reasons for not wanting to be around him and hope they would be sufficient in his eyes.

“Are you going to ring the doorbell or are you planning to stay on my porch all day?” A hoarse voice inquired and I turned around to see Betty Harris, taking a bunch of grocery bags out of a minivan – a Dodge, I believe Vallery called it – and kicking the door shut.

“Let me help you with those,” I offered Hunter’s aunt, meeting her halfway to her house and grabbing two of the bags.

She nodded and lobbed towards her home, fishing the keys out of her pocket without any of the veggies falling from her cram-full bags. She led me inside - the position of the rooms the same as that in our house – and signaled for me to place the groceries on the counter.

“I don’t think my nephew’s here,” she began explaining, removing her things from the paper containers. “I suppose that’s who you are looking for.” She snorted. “I doubt you’ve come here for me.”

Yes, that was who I’d been looking. A part of me was disappointed at the news as I wanted to get this over with, another felt relieved that I could postpone talking with him. I was not mentally prepared for that which was why Miss Harris saw me standing in front of her house with my hand frozen in the air, my fingers afraid to ring the bell.

“So are you also a fag?” I chocked on my saliva.“You look like a fag. With that tight polo shirt and being all polite and helpful.”

I just gaped at her, not knowing how to respond.

“Then again, my nephew is a fag and he’s nowhere near polite. I'm guessing that face you’re making now means “no”. Not that it’s going to stop my nephew if he has his eye on you. You should be careful with that boy. My brother never raised him properly. That is why he send the boy to me, ‘Boot camp aunt’, as Hunter likes to call me. But I'll make sure to fix that boy. I sure will!”

“I don't think you can fix the fact that he's homosexual,” I muttered, finding some semblance of my voice.

She frowned at me and shook her head.

“Are you out of your mind, boy? That is not something to fix.”My nose wrinkled as she lit a cigarette and the smoke assulted my nostrils.“No. What I mean is fix the fighting, that's what I mean. I should probably make him quit smoking too, but I'm not one to preach about that, am I?”She took a long drag and smiled.“I should also try to stop him from playing with people, but even God himself won't be able to make him quit that; the boy could be quite the Devil. Are you religious, boy?”

“No, Miss Harris.”

“Call me Betty,” she commanded, exhaling another large cloud of smoke. “I am religious. Hunter is too, sometimes. Does that surprise you? That a fag can be religious?”

“I don’t see what being homosexual has to do with religion. And no, I am not a believer. I’m too rational for that.”

“I see.”

She said nothing more and went on managing the groceries again with her right hand, the left one periodically lifting the cigarette towards her lips.

“Why do you use that word?” I asked, confused about her behavior. Hunter liking guys didn’t seem to bother her yet she used a degrading term to describe his preferences.

“You mean fag?” She laughed. “Homosexual, gay, fag – they all describe the same thing. Why should one be politically correct and the other not?”

I pondered on what she’d said and realized she was right. At some point someone had labeled a word politically incorrect and now we either avoided it like the plague or we used at as an insult. But why? In the end those terms really meant the same thing.

“You look like a nice boy, so I’m going to give you an advice,” she said, pointing towards me with her cigarette. “Stay away from my Hunter; that boy’s going to bring you trouble.”

“I’ve been trying to,” I began to explain. “But…”

“He’s been named very appropriately, you know; he is a hunter. If he sees you resisting, trying to run away, he’ll track you down just to show you he can.”

“So I must avoid him without making it a fun cat and mouse game for him?” She nodded. “How do I do that?”

“The Hell if I know.”

I sighed.

Well, that reply was helpful!

*****

A/N: So did I manage to earn myself a vote, follow or a place on your reading lists with this chapter?

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