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"Chance! Wake up! Zack's here!"

Chance's eyes fluttered open and as he groggily sat upright. His mind was still catching up to his consciousness as the words washed over him. Zack? He glanced at the clock on his phone. It was too early for Zack to be here. It was only eight o'clock on a Tuesday morning. He had barely stretched and yawned when there was a knock on the door.

"Charlie? Are you up?" came the jackal's voice.

"Yeah, let me get some clothes on," Chance answered, sliding out of bed. He hurriedly picked up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his floor, forcing them on before pulling the door open.

"Hey, happy birthday," Zack said when the door swung open. Zack thrust a wrapped package at him and Chance, still blinking the sleepiness from his eyes, took a moment to realize that he was supposed to take it.

"Thanks," Chance grumbled drowsily, unwrapping it. His eyes soon went wide as he looked at a brand new sketchbook, a series of pencils (in various thicknesses) and erasers, and a box of eighty colored pencils. His jaw dropped as he looked at it and he said, "... What's this for?"

Zack's smile faltered. "Happy birthday," he repeated.

Chance's jaw dropped-he had nearly forgotten that it was his birthday. He stammered for a brief moment before saying, "Thanks... I don't know what to say." He clutched the gifts closely, as if letting them go was unfathomable to him.

Zack leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I'm glad you like them." He led Chance back into the room, closing the door behind them. Zack sat down on the bed, patting beside him to invite Chance to join him. Chance plopped down by him, smiling meekly up at the jackal. "How're you doing? Did you ever reach out to that psychologist the police wanted you to speak to?"

Chance shifted uneasily, leaning his head onto Zack's shoulder. "Not yet. I don't know if I want to..."

"Charlie..."

"Just hear me out, Zack," Chance said emphatically. "I... might have... been speaking to someone else."

"...Who?"

Chance swallowed. "Do you remember that coyote that the coach was married to?"

Zack nodded, then gasped. He jumped up, looking suddenly frantic with his hackles raised and his eyes sharp and narrowed. "Charlie, no! You can't-!"

"Please, wait, Zack!" Chance begged. "I know this sounds... bad but-"

"Why would you want to talk to him?! What has he been saying to you?!" Zack challenged, fists visibly clenched in an effort to restrain his growing anger. Chance shifted awkwardly, unable to meet Zack's gaze.

"He's been giving me very good advice," Chance explained, "and I don't think it's fair to blame him for what the coach did."

"He didn't stop him!" Zack said. "Why didn't-?!"

"Zack, please, you're shouting," Chance murmured meekly. Zack looked away and took a careful, deep breath. "Nobody could have known what Coach Salt would've done and nobody could have really stopped it. It isn't fair to blame him for what Coach Salt did." Zack rolled his eyes but before he could speak, Chance continued. "He spoke to me about what the coach went through and why he was the way he was." Chance swallowed. "I heard that the coach is going to trial soon."

"You aren't going to have to be there," Zack interjected. "You don't need to go through-"

"Dr. Erikson told me that he's going to plead guilty," Chance stated. "And that he'll likely be in prison for a long while."

"Good. It's the least he deserves," Zack spat.

Chance sighed. "Well, maybe then, Dr. Erikson can put it behind him. I think he's just as hurt by this as I am."

"Charlie..." Zack said, momentarily stunned. Starting to calm, the jackal walked back over to the bed and seated himself. "Even when you're hurting so much, you're thinking about somebody else." He tilted Chance's head towards him and their eyes met-Chance could no longer see any malice in those eyes. "You're amazing." He leaned closer for a kiss when there was another knock on the door. Zack jumped back, as if he'd been shocked and Chance hurriedly opened the door.

"Hey, Michelle," Chance said, momentarily surprised; he'd been expecting his father.

"Um, I was thinking that it might do you some good to get out of the house for a bit," she said, looking strangely guilty and a little uneasy. She had something in her hand that she was trying to give to Chance. "Why don't you two go out for a bit? Get some breakfast, maybe pick yourself up a birthday present?"

Chance took what she was offering-it was his father's debit card. "Are you sure...? I mean, I don't mind-"

"Come on, Charlie!" Zack said, jumping up and steering him out of the door. "I know the perfect place for a great breakfast!"

---

There was definitely an air of suspicion and uneasiness in Zack, even as they went to have breakfast on the porch of a fancy-looking restaurant. The food was aromatic and tasty, far more than what Chance had expected from it. Zack had suggested to him to try an eggs benedict dish which he'd never had before-despite him thinking that the plating of the dish was a bit garish and grandiose, the food was, undeniably, delicious. Zack, he noted, had managed to divert the conversation away from anything "serious", keeping a forcefully lighthearted tone and jovial demeanor, laughing awkwardly at things that Chance knew he wouldn't have found funny in any other circumstance. Despite himself, Chance smiled, smirking slyly at what he knew.

I wonder if he knows that I know what they're planning.

Zack quickly paid, probably forgetting that Chance had been given David's debit card for the day, and soon took him over to a small shop nearby, a clothing store. Chance peered around confused, unsure of why, of all places, Zack would drag him into a clothing store-Zack had to know that Chance did not enjoy shopping for clothes.

But Zack didn't ask him to try anything on. Instead, he asked Chance to wait while he spoke to the cashier, audibly asking about an order that had been placed online. The cashier, a mildly confused-looking doe, soon understood and disappeared into the back, returning a few minutes later with a box. She read the label on the box before asking for payment. Zack paid and hurriedly ripped open the box, smiling at what he saw inside before he waved Chance over.

"What's going on, Zack?" Chance questioned. "I don't like how sneaky you're trying to be."

"Just some new clothes," Zack said, "for you. Michelle actually wanted to get you these for your birthday." Chance reached for the box, but Zack took it away from him, steering him over to the fitting room. "Hurry up and get dressed, okay?"

The door closed behind him and Chance's jaw dropped. Get changed? Into what? Perhaps he'd realized before Chance could say anything, because Zack hurriedly opened the door once more, thrusting the box into the fitting room quickly before shutting the door again. Chance chortled before pulling out the clothes inside the box. There was a blue, denim jacket and matching pants, the pants having been playfully ripped at the knees. There was a t-shirt as well, with a splotchy design, as if someone had playfully thrown red, green and blue paint at a white shirt. He dressed quickly before checking out his reflection in the mirror.

He stared for a short while; he hadn't really considered much about his appearance in a while but as he peered at himself, he couldn't help but be surprised. When had he filled out like this? He didn't look nearly as thin or scrawny as he remembered, but lean, more muscular. Stronger.

"You ready yet?!" came Zack's impatient voice. "We need to get back to your place soon."

"Why?" Chance called back knowingly. "What are you planning, Zackery?"

"I'm not planning any..." Zack trailed off as the door opened. He stared at Chance, as if seeing him for the first time in his life. "... Your stepmother... has really good... taste..." He stammered.

Chance giggled; seeing Zack Bailey flustered was certainly a rare sight and one to be committed to memory. "Come on, Zack," Chance said. "We can head back now."

---

"How many people are here?" Chance wondered, seeing the cars parked outside of his house.

"Just a few friends and family," Zack answered coyly as he turned the engine off. "Come on, everyone's waiting on you."

"Who's 'everyone'?" Chance wondered suspiciously. He followed Zack across the lawn and to the front door, which he noticed was slightly cracked open, just enough so that somebody could push on it. Zack was waiting on him to push the door open, actively stopping himself from doing so. "For the record," Chance said, "I know what's going on."

Zack's smile faltered as Chance pushed the door open. All at once, a wash of noise and confetti momentarily overwhelmed him. He caught the word "SURPRISE" yelled by several people in a cacophony of sound as several handfuls of multicolored paper rained down over him. Then, he found himself getting pulled further into the house, Zack pushing at his back, until he was standing in a crowd of people, all of them wishing him a happy birthday.

He peered around, seeing who had shown up for the party. He saw the Baileys-Geoff, Karen, Seth, and Tristan-the Dentons-Sylvia and her parents-and, much to his amazement, several of his classmates. There was Lonny and Brandon and Jamie. And then he saw (his heart leapt with surprise and a new sensation of joy) Benny and Lexi and Junior. He locked eyes with Junior and, almost reflexively, pulled him into a tight hug. Junior let out a squeak of surprise.

"I'm glad you came," Chance said. "I missed you."

He looked around-silver and blue streamers ran throughout the living room with matching balloons. The coffee table was topped with gifts and he could hear music blaring from the stereo; it was some trashy pop music that Chance had never particularly cared for. But he was being steered towards the dining room, where a beautifully decorated, intricately iced cake was, topped with sixteen candles. David was lighting the last candle and smiled at Chance warmly.

"Happy sixteenth birthday, Charles," David said kindly.

Chance moved closer, stunned and moderately overwhelmed as he leaned in to blow out his candles. Behind him, he could hear more uproarious noise and cheering as the flickering flames were extinguished. For the first time in a long time, he felt on top of the world.

He felt something tug at his pant leg and looked down. Tristan was handing him a small wrapped gift, and he reached down to accept, smiling at the small jackal. Before opening it, he kneeled, pulling Tristan into a warm hug.

"Thank you," he said, fighting back the strange urge he had to cry.

---

Chance was mildly aware of how backwards this party seemed to be, starting with him blowing out his candles and everyone taking a slice of Michelle's homemade and decorated cake; it was chocolate and coconut, the icing creamy and melting wonderfully in his mouth. Despite little Tristan asking for even more cake, his mother had made it clear that he could only have more after they'd eaten real food, which Mr. Bailey and David would be making on the grill out back. Before they went outside, Chance was diverted to the living room, to the pile of birthday presents that had been assembled for him.

He started with the present that Tristan had handed him earlier; it was a series of pencils, decorated with some cartoon character that Chance didn't recognize. Tristan's face brightened as Chance thanked him but before he could explain who the characters were, another present was thrust into Chance's hands. As he opened them, he found two shirts (from the Dentons), a sketchbook from Junior (Zack immediately excused himself when he saw Junior's present and Mr. Bailey followed him out front), a fifty dollar gift card (from Lexi and Benny), a fantasy novel with a knight on the cover (from Sylvia) and a series of comic books (from Lonny, Jamie and Brandon).

As the party moved more towards the backyard, where Mr. Bailey and David were busily barbecuing hotdogs and burgers and Chance found himself surrounded by his friends, playing a sloppy version of soccer, he steadily became aware of something: Zack and Junior were actively avoiding each other. Right now, Zack was sitting out the game while Junior played, occupying himself by texting while speaking with his father. In the last game, Junior had sat out, looking salty while doing so, while Zack had played.

As the game wound down with Benny scoring the winning goal, Chance ambled over to Zack, feeling breathless and a little lightweight. He leaned against the wall, smiling at Zack who returned the grin.

"So, how long have you known?" Zack wondered, smirking.

"Known what?"

"About the party. You said you knew what I was planning."

"I kind of overheard your mom and dad talking about it," Chance confessed. The group was beginning to disperse to get drinks. "But, I have a question for you-why are you avoiding Junior?"

Zack looked away. "You know we don't get along."

"I know, but maybe try?" Chance suggested delicately. "I mean, it's a party. At least you're not alone with him and you guys might be able to work through your problems." He shifted uncomfortably. "Why did you run off when he gave me his present?"

Zack rolled his eyes. "He was trying to steal my thunder. He knew I was getting you a sketchbook and so-"

"So what? I like to draw," Chance scoffed. "I'll always need more sketchbooks in the future."

"But he didn't have to get you one. I got you one, a really good one, and-"

"You're being petty," Chance admonished. Zack's eyes narrowed but Chance didn't flinch. He stared right back into Zack's gaze, unblinking. "You know, you keep acting like you're in some kind of competition with him and you're not. I'm already your boyfriend. You won."

"There isn't a competition," Zack murmured defensively. He watched the group begin to reconvene, sodas and juices quickly downed in a quick effort to cool off. "I just don't think we should be around each other."

"But I was hoping that, maybe, you guys could talk," Chance murmured, "and maybe mend a few bridges. I invited him because he's my friend. I want my friends to like my boyfriend."

Zack rolled his eyes. "Let's just get through today and we'll try to get along some other time." Chance was about to reply, but he soon caught Zack's gaze. Zack wasn't looking at him, he was peering over towards Mr. Bailey, who was casting occasional glares over in their direction, as if keeping an eye on a misbehaving child. "I just want your birthday to go right," Zack added. "You deserve it after what you went through with... You know..."

"... Is this about the fact that you two used to date?"

"It's something like that," Zack huffed, shifting awkwardly. "I don't think you know the whole story but... I just don't want there to be any trouble."

"Don't start any trouble and there won't be any trouble. Come on," Chance remarked, pulling Zack towards the group, where everyone else was reorganizing for a new game. Zack allowed himself to be dragged over, his eyes wide with fear as they moved closer. When they were finally in the midst of the group, something had visibly changed and Chance could almost feel the tension as Zack and Junior's eyes met. Junior's glare was venomous, as if wishing that his looks could kill while Zack quickly looked away, as if longing, but not daring, to move away.

"Which team do you want to be on?" asked Jamie, seemingly oblivious to the shift in mood.

"I... uh... maybe I should sit this one out," Zack said, peering back towards Mr. Bailey. Mr. Bailey was watching them closely and for a brief moment, Chance was sure he'd come over.

"You sat the last one out," whined Jamie. "We can't keep using uneven teams. Come on, Zack, just choose a team."

"He can be on my team," Chance suggested, starting to feel stifled by the heaviness. "Come on, let's get started."

The game quickly started and, for a few minutes, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Chance's mind was not on the game, but he watched Zack and Junior closely, noting how they dodged around each other, each one purposefully avoiding moving too close to one another.

Until Junior tumbled, falling face-first onto the grass in a painful display. The game almost immediately paused and Chance's heartbeat spiked as he saw Zack reach down to Junior, offering his hand kindly. For a brief moment, Chance was sure that Junior was going to slap his hand away or that Zack was going to panic in a moment of hesitation. He could see Mr. Bailey, readying to walk over as he stepped away from the grill.

But Junior accepted the gesture-begrudgingly, Chance noted-and allowed Zack to heft him up onto his feet. Chance checked on Mr. Bailey, who seemed mollified though still uneasy as he watched, keeping a keen eye on the game as it resumed. Zack, however, politely excused himself, returning to his position against the wall. Chance kept his eye on him; Zack seemed lost in his own thoughts, detached from everything else going on around him.

As the game wound down, Chance walked back over to him, leaning his head on Zack's shoulders.

"I'm proud of you," he said kindly, smiling.

"Huh? Of what?"

"Actually trying to help Junior," Chance explained. "You didn't have to help him up. But I'm glad you did."

David let out a shrill whistle, getting their attention. He called them over to make their plates and Chance rushed over, eager to devour the burgers and fries that David had piled onto his plate with a root beer. He sat down at the table, Zack on his right and Sylvia on his left and he started to eat. The atmosphere of the party was light, excited, playful and, as he ate, Chance couldn't escape the feeling of relief, a strange escape from the chaos that had swirled in his head for days. Ordinarily, he'd had avoided a party; he would have preferred to keep his head down, to avoid being the center of attention in a sea of people.

Right now, he felt like he needed to be here, like he belonged here.

"CHANCE!" came a shrill, excited voice, slicing through the atmosphere like a sharp knife. Chance jerked in shock as someone new had rushed out of the house, around the table and pulled him into a hug so suffocating, that he nearly kicked the table in an effort to get away from it. When he was released, he looked up into the eyes of a yellow labrador, her bright eyes staring at him with love and care that he hadn't seen in nearly a year.

"Mom?"