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Disclaimer: Not mine. Nothing. No one. Credit for the title goes to Lute.

Warnings: Language, some things that could probably be considered sacreligious


Failing Jesus

Chapter One: Bus Blunders and Lovebug Laments

"Guys? Guys, can you listen up for a sec?"

The deafening chatter in the charter bus kinda died down to a dull roar as Mr. Reasin hopped up onto one of the chairs near the front. Even though he was standing on his tiptoes on a chair, he was still an inch or two shorter than most of us. Damn, he was short. I'd sort of forgotten how short he was.

The rest of the noise dissipated totally, and we acknowledged our head counselor with a couple of bored glances. Snitch and Skittery finished hiding their CD players and CDs, which they weren't supposed to have, since it was retreat, and plopped down into the two seats in front of Racetrack and me. Grinning, I reached down to stash my battered, green binder beneath my own seat.

Reasin did a quick head count, then nodded. "Okay, boys, welcome to Senior Retreat, 2004."

"WOOHOO!"

"Thank you, Damien."

"No prob, Reas!" Snitch replied, beaming. Skittery whacked him upside the head.

"As you already know, we'll be staying at the Solomon Episcopal Center, just like we did last year for Junior Retreat. I'll be passing around room numbers later, since you all already know who you're rooming with. I hope that those of you who are four to a room remembered to bring a sleeping bag."

I snickered. "Hey, Skitts, did you bring a sleeping bag?"

He snorted and placed his hand dangerously close to the and Skittery turned around to face us. Snitch had a pudding pack with a straw stabbed through the top.

"... Snitch, are you drinking pudding through a straw?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"... you know, you can drink your pudding without looking like you're giving the straw a blowjob."

I rolled my eyes as Racetrack cracked up and Skittery fought to keep from jumping him. "I swear to God, why are all my friends gay?"

"Excuse me, I am /bi/," Racetrack replied firmly, pretending to glare.

"And, Blink, you're gay anyway, so shut up."

I burst out laughing. "I so am /not/!"

Really, it's kind of sad that the four of us consider this a totally normal conversation. Snitch and Skittery make out and try to convince me that I'm gay, while I vehemently deny it. Racetrack just sort of stands in the back and laughs at us all. Or sings. A /lot/. People don't seem to know just how much Race loves to sing.

But, believe me, we do, since he gets into these moods where he /won't shut up/.

Which is why we had forbidden him to bring his CD player.

Even though I know he did it anyway.

"How long is this bus ride again?" Snitch asked as he tossed his empty pudding cup into the compartment above our seats.

"Like... an hour and a half."

"Oh, dammit," Racetrack muttered.

I grinned. "Fear not, gentlemen, for I have brought entertainment!" Slowly, I reached down underneath my seat and pulled out my infamous green binder.

"... Blink, tell me that's not what I think it is."

"Oh, but it is."

"You brought your binder of Buffy porn on /retreat/?!"

"Mwahahaha, fear my mad sacreligiousness!"

"Oh, my God, Blink, you have issues."

"Duh, I so already know that." Beaming, I flipped open the binder and began to bask in its glory.

Racetrack raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think that you should open this on the bus?"

"Come on, we're in the back. No one can see us." I paused for dramatic effect, then continued. "Unless there are /cameras/."

Racetrack grinned, then reached up to poke at the air conditioner. "Hello? Anyone up there?"

I beamed up at the "camera" as Snitch and Skittery stole my bag of Starburst lollipops. "We're reading porn!"

"This is God!" Skittery boomed suddenly in a gravely voice. "You're all going straight to hell! ... and you can bring your binder with you!"

Snitch choked on his lollipop, and Racetrack abducted my binder.

"Hey!"

"Oh, shut up, you've already read them all anyway." He smirked at me, then flipped a couple of pages and began to read.

However, a loud whistle echoed throughout the bus before he could really get into it.

"Hey, freaks!" Jack Kelly, our slightly insane, weirdly funny student council president, hopped up on one of the seats in the front and let out another loud whistle. He grinned and gestured to a boom box in the front of the bus. "Now, I know we ain't supposed to have CD players on retreat, but, technically, this isn't retreat. This is the bus ride to retreat. Right, Reas?"

Reasin shrugged helplessly. "I can't see or hear anything right now. La, la, laaaa."

We snickered as Jack reached for the play button.

"Unfortunately, we didn't have any good CDs. The only CD I've got is one that my ex-girlfriend made in seventh grade."

"Oh, God, I'm scared."

"So, if your ears start to bleed too much, I'll take it off." He grinned again and pressed the play button.

And we froze.

"Please tell me that this isn't what I think it is..." Racetrack groaned, sinking down into his seat and pulling the binder over his head.

"Holy crap! LFO!" Snitch shrieked, waving his lollipop like a baton.

"Is it sad that this was my favorite song in grammar school?" I asked with a sheepish grin.

Skittery snorted. "And you call yourself a straight man."

"Shut up, I'm singing! Sometimes it's black, sometimes it's white, sometimes she's wrong, sometimes I'm right-"

"You're gaaaaaaay!"

"Sometimes we talk about it and we figure it out, but then she just changed her mind-"

"'Hi, I'm Blink and I'm /gay/.'"

"Sometimes, I'm hot, sometimes she's cold, sometimes my head wants to explode-"

"GAY, GAY, GAY."

"SHUT UP, SKITTS."

We all managed to stop laughing long enough to join in on the last line. Even Racetrack, who still looked like he wanted to set the song on fire.

"But when I think about it, I'm so in love with her... EVERY OTHER TIME!"

"Oh, my God, we are such losers," I gasped out as I laughed.

"And you are so gay."

I stuck my tongue out at Skittery and laughed again, but, really, it was starting to bother me. Not that fact that Skittery kept telling me that I was gay, because I knew that he was just joking. No, what really bothered me was that I was starting to believe him. Well, not exactly believe him. Half-believe him, maybe. It was one of those vicious cycles that starts humming around your head and won't leave. Every time I'd hear him mention it, I'd laugh and mentally tell myself, "pfft, I'm not gay." But then the little, nagging voice that lives somewhere in between my eyes would pop up and say, "oh, but you might be." Then I'd force another laugh and deny it. "But you might be." Then we'd continue with the "but I'm not, but you might be, but I'm not/, but you /might be" until I'd realize that I was talking to myself and settle back down with a big, hard, crazy ball of doubt rolling around the back of my mind.

Not that I knew why I was doubting myself. I'd been attracted to girls before. On the other hand, I'd never had a real girlfriend or anything. And what the hell did I know? Maybe I'd been confusing appreciation with attraction my entire life. Maybe I was gay. It was totally possible.

But, whatever. If I actually found a guy that I was attracted to, I'd deal with it. Until then, it's Heteroville for me.

Grinning, I looked over Racetrack's shoulder to see which one he was reading. "Where are you?"

He jumped suddenly, like I scared him, and whacked me upside the head. "Don't invade my invisi-square!"

I stared at him. Even Snitch and Skittery took their attention off of my now half-empty bag of Starburst lollipops.

"Invisi-square?" I repeated.

Race nodded solemnly. "This is my /invisi-square/," he replied, drawing a box around himself with his fingers. "You don't enter the invisi-square without express permission. And write now, I'm reading porn. So, permission denied." With that, he turned his attention back to my binder and tried not to grin like an idiot.

Snitch turned around and leaned casually on the back of the seat, his head cocked quizzically to the side. "Just out of curiosity, are we going to hell for reading porn on a religious retreat?"

Skittery snorted and tugged the green apple sucker out of his mouth. "Snitch, we're going to hell anyway. We may as well go out with a bang."

Racetrack looked up and let out a laugh that could only be described as a giggle. "Heheh... /bang/."

Insert hysterical laughter here. Hey, what can I say? We have the mentality of four-year-olds.

Our laughter died down and then stopped suddenly as a new song wafted throughout the bus.

"... Jack?"

"What?"

"Please tell me that this isn't BBMak."

"Oh, it is! Feel the pain, Skitts, feel the pain!"

"Kill me now," Skittery groaned, burying his face in Snitch's shoulder.

"Hey, shut the hell up! I love this song!"

I raised an eyebrow at Racetrack. "You thought LFO was stupid, and yet, you like BB-frickin'-Mak?"

"I WILL STAAAAND UP FOR YOOOOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU'RE GOIN' THROUGH!" Racetrack howled melodramatically.

"Racetrack, don't even pretend that you can't sing, because we all know you can!"

"I'm still on your siiiiide!" he finished, ignoring Snitch, as he playfully threw an arm over my shoulders and began to sway.

"Okay, choking, choking, choking/! Race, you're /choking me!"

"But this is a good song!"

"... what does that have to do with me not being able to breathe?!" I demanded.

Racetrack let out a good-natured laugh and let me go. At the time, I was too pleased about my windpipe being intact to notice the weird, kind of tingly feeling that spread across my back wherever his arm touched.

"Blink, give me your arm."

I gave Skittery a skeptical glance. "Um... why?"

"Because!" He beamed. "I have a pen, and I must tattoo the mark of the Bareites on your arm."

"The mark of the Bareites?" I echoed. Skittery nodded, suddenly solemn.

"A mark that will forever brand you as a Bare obsessee... at least until you take a shower, anyway."

"Like you said, forever," Race muttered. I flicked his ear. "Ow!"

"What, exactly, is this mark?"

"Snitch, please demonstrate."

Smiling like Vanna White, Snitch turned around and thrust out his hand. I squinted, attempting to see exactly what was drawn on it. It looked to be a badly-drawn car, a lollipop, a fuzzy face, a knife, and a pair of pants. The last two were connected by an equal sign.

"How is that the mark of a Bare obsessee?"

"Hey, little boy, would you like a ride, a lollipop, a puppy? How about a baseball bat, there's one in my pants!" he sang merrily.

I raised an eyebrow. "That baseball bat looks like a knife."

"Shut up, the bus was shaking!"

"You are so not drawing that on me."

"I'll keep singing 'You and I' until you let me," he warned. I was silent. With a nonchalant shrug, Skittery picked up from where he left off. Except, this time, he was much, much louder. "NO, THANK YOU. MY MOM, SHE SAID TO NEVER TALK TO STRANGERS."

And then Snitch joined in, because he's stupid like that. "SO A KISS IS OUT OF THE QUESTION, THEN. I'LL TAKE THE CHANCE. SO WHERE WERE-"

"Okay!" I yelled. Hey, I know when I'm defeated. Reluctantly, I held out my hand and allowed Skittery to scribble on it. "And I thought that we were the Bare/es/. You know, like the fan forum."

Silence.

"Well, we're the Bare/ites/!" Skittery yelled as he triumphantly doodled a "puppy" that looked more like a distant cousin of the emu.

"Are we almost there?" I groaned, looking to Racetrack for support. Unfortunately, he'd already immersed himself in my Buffy smut.

"Oh, my God, you guys!" Snitch squealed loudly, pressing his face to the window. "Guys, look! Look at that skinny cow!"

Casually, I glanced out the window. Then, I stared.

"Snitch?"

"Yeah?"

"That's a /horse/."

"Cute and stupid, just the way I like 'em."

"Shut up, Skitts!"

"You know what I've always wondered?" Racetrack asked suddenly as he took a bite out of a cookie.

"What?"

He held up what was left of his cookie and pointed to the designs on it. "How do they get the designs on these cookies?"

We stared. Honestly, what would you have done?

Race stared back. "What?!"

Slowly, I buried my face in my hands as Snitch and Skittery fell into each other, laughing wildly. Personally, I think that was just an excuse to inconspicuously feel each other up.

"Racetrack, you scare me sometimes."

"Come on, that was an honest question!"

"That was a douchey question."

"Douchey isn't even a word, dumbass!"

"Children, be nice, or I'll separate you," Snitch choked out in between laughs.

"You guys totally suck."

"You do, too, Blink. Since you're /gay/."

"I HATE YOU ALL."

The guy in front of Snitch and Skitts turned around and gave us a piece of paper and a roll of his eyes. Obviously, he was not amused by our antics. Pfft. Like we care.

"Ooh, room assignments!" Skittery said, quickly scanning the sheet. "We're in thirty-eight."

"Where's that?"

"The two-story building, second floor."

"Dammit!" Racetrack groaned. "I don't feel like going up stairs. They're- are we here already?"

I frowned and glanced out of the window. Sure enough, we'd already eased onto the narrow, dusty road that wound its way up to the Solomon Episcopal Center.

"Wow, that so did not feel like an hour and a half."

"Yeah, I know... dude, did you eat all of my suckers?" I demanded. Snitch and Skittery glanced at each other nervously.

"Um... no?"

"You /bitches/!"

"Um... look! It's Georgie and Bobo!"

I stopped. "Who?"

"The trees!"

The bus doors swung abruptly open before I could decide whether to strangle Skittery or bang my head against the window.

Immediately, the four of us, along with the rest of the senior class of Jesuit High School, hopped to our feet and stampeded towards the door. Somehow, Skittery and Snitch managed to wiggle their way towards the front of the bus while Racetrack and I got stuck near the back.

By the time I got my binder and what was left of my bag of lollipops, the rest of the class had already gotten their crap and headed towards the rooms.

Racetrack grinned and swept into an exaggerated bow. "After you."

"Thankee, sir."

As he grinned at me, I felt a weird sort of heat kind of... wash over me. I blamed it on the fact that it was about ninety degrees outside, smiled back, and stepped down onto the well-traveled trail in front of me.

Almost immediately, a large black bug with a smaller bug attached to its ass careened into my head. Frowning, I grabbed it and identified it as a lovebug.

Then, I looked up, something that I sort of wish I hadn't done.

The Episcopal Center was actually very pretty. Trees, flowers, cute little rooms, a lake. I'd really enjoyed it last year.

Except last year, we'd visited in November. It was early September this time, and the August's weather hadn't yet gotten the memo that it was time to move out.

So the place was absolutely swarming with lovebugs.

I groaned and staggered through the masses of bugs in order to retrieve my crap from the bottom of the bus. I somehow managed to dig through the stuff in my bag and triumphantly produce a small bottle of bug spray.

Ha! Fear me, lovebugs, for you shall get no remorse for entering my path!

Then, one flew in my mouth.

With a loud yelp, I made a mad dash for the larger of the two residency halls, Racetrack's laughter echoing behind me as I scampered through the curtain of insects.

End Chapter One


Author's Note: Nearly all of the stupidly random things said and done in this fic actually happened. This story is based off of the antics of my three friends and I at our own senior retreat and dedicated to them as well. Michelle, Megan, and especially Ellen, this is for you. Thank you for convincing me to carry a pen and an old program from mass around for two days and write down everything that we did.