Blaine was a loner, who'd never been with a girl. As a senior, he had a reputation as one of the school's "brains", even though in reality he was close to flunking out. In truth, he had all but given up on life. Sure, he was smarter than most of the other kids, but so what? He wasn't as smart as his younger brother, who made the honor roll pretty much every semester-- or, maybe it was every semester-- Blaine had quit paying attention. He just couldn't keep all of his classes straight, couldn't keep anything straight. Sometimes he wondered if he was "straight". Nothing seemed to work out, nothing seemed right.
He sighed, finally just putting as many of his school books into his already overloaded backpack as he could. Maybe when he got home, he could figure out what he had to do-- right now the effort was too much.
He felt tired, too tired to even think. It wasn't from cross country practice, which he'd just finished (his younger brother was varsity, while he was still stuck as j.v.). It was had more to do with going home, and facing his dad, who had always tried to push Blaine to be the best at everything, yet was never satisfied even if Blaine came in number one, and never seemed to--
Someone was watching him.
Blaine straightened, and slow shut the locker... turned around.
Stevie-- that "skater girl". She had a look in her eyes that made Blaine nervous and confused. He tried opening his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything to say.
"Hey, Brain, today is your lucky day," Stevie said in a voice which only made Blaine even more nervous.
She grabbed him, and he grabbed his backpack as if he hoped it was an anchor--. If it was an anchor to his old life, it didn't work. He was swept up in the hurricane Stevie was becoming.
----
It had been amazing. Blaine lay on his back in the janitor's closet, looking at but not seeing the dim compact fluorescent bulb on the ceiling. Stevie had been in control the whole time. The young man had some vague idea that the guy was supposed to be on top, but with Stevie things had turned out otherwise, and Blaine found he didn't care. In fact, he felt as if he were letting go about caring about, well, a whole lot of things.
He watched idly as Stevie got up and got her clothes back on, and a small smile appeared on his lips, as he realized she really was a hot chick! And he'd had her. Man, if only he could be like her, but a guy! He could almost feel the freedom she had-- that she must have reached out and grabbed, no matter what anybody-- Hell, not even her PARENTS-- said or thought! And skateboarding! Man that had to ROCK!
Rock? His brow furrowed in momentary puzzlement. When had he ever used that expression? Sure, he'd tried using it a couple times, but it always felt wrong somehow, as if he were faking it. Now it felt, like, natural. And he realized that he liked TO rock! Loud, noisy, angry and/or party music!
His hand idly rubbed across his overburdened backpack, and, unnoticed by him, it changed. The backpack slowly split into two parts. Part one oozed into roughly an elongated oval, then solidified into a well used skateboard, a worn "A-for-Anarchy" symbol on the bottom, surrounded by skulls. The second part dissolved into mist and reformed as a guitar case, complete with electric guitar-- well maintained but also well used.
Blaine, who went by "Bane" watched lazily as Stevie exited the closet. Man, she had a sweet ass! He and she had come into here to smoke a little weed, talk about the party they were going to down at that abandoned shopping center at the edge of town-- the one with the sweet parking lot, and had wound up having sex! She didn't seem to mind he was only a freshman.
"Freshman"? Was that right?
Bane rubbed his jaw, not noticing as stubble fell out, leaving his jaw perfectly smooth. The stubble crumbled into a fine powder as it hit the floor.
Hadn't he been about to graduate?
He sat up, and his neat, button up shirt became a torn up t-shirt, a replica of the Clash's "Combat Rock" tour shirt. Running his hands through his hair, his hair became a sun-bleached blond, cut into a Mohawk. When had he done that? Oh yeah, just a few weeks back-- his parents hated it, so it was staying.
As he shook his head, Bane didn't notice as his face, and whole body, lost definition, becoming small and younger, features softening, height reducing. His shoulders became narrow, his body rail-thin. Not a scrap of fat, of excess weight now existed on him. His muscles became smaller, and wiry strong. Although his skin had already been tan, it became darker, bleaching his body hair blond. Then his body hair-- ALL of his body hair fell out and vanished. His penis shrank, his balls, too. His body now had only began to think about puberty. His orgasm with Stevie had been dry-- no, they had just messed around, kissing and stuff. No, that couldn't be right, could it? They'd just talked, and smoked some weed. Yeah, that was it.
Graduate... oh, yeah. He'd just graduated sixth grade! Now he was in seventh. Which was why it was awesome Stevie even paid attention to him!
Standing up, he pulled up his pants-- no, board shorts, bright green in an obnoxious way, and smiled. He'd been skating as long as he could remember, and that seemed to count for a lot with her. The junior high, which he was now (finally!)in, shared a campus with the high school. Now he was finally meeting fellow skaters, and even some other kids who wanted to form a band!
"Tonight's gonna be AWE--S-ome!" he tried to say, his voice breaking in the middle of "awesome". Shouldering his guitar, he used a foot to shove his skateboard out into the senior high school's hall, vaguely wondering what it was like to be old enough to go here.
Hopping on his skateboard he rolled down the hallway, heading for the exit.
'Well,' he reasoned. 'If I don't go home, my dad can't tell me not to stay out all night.'
Let his older brother deal with his dad's b.s. Bane was still young, and didn't care about anything but skating, rock 'n' roll, and partying all night long!