Out Of Depth

Aaron's first day had started out average, maybe even pleasant, but it had quickly descended to downright terrible. He should have known his idealistic vision of what would happen was too good to be true. A poor kid didn't belong in a private academy. He didn't have the money to buy the uniform, the one he was told he didn't actually have to wear because it wasn't in the rule book, so he came to school in ragged jeans and a sweatshirt that was about four sizes too big; sometimes it slipped to show a slender shoulder. His brown hair was a shaggy, choppy mess and thick black glasses magnified his thickly lashed brown eyes, only slightly detracting from his feminine features.

Add to that the fact that he had brought his lunch rather than have to pay the private chef, and Aaron was a shoe-in for a social pariah. And as if starting his senior year at a new high school wasn't hard enough, the other students were quick to affirm Aaron's suspicion that he wouldn't fit in at elite Sherwood Academy. It had started in his first class of the day. Aaron chose the empty seat in the front rather than the back, and eagerly took notes. If there was one thing Aaron loved, it was experiencing something new: a new place, a new food, a new theory- it didn't matter. That was why Aaron had done so well in school, because he was always happy to learn something new.

It seemed, however, that none of the other students shared his excitement; only one other student paid attention, and the raven-haired boy never once took up his pencil. The rest of the students had their desks put together, completely ignoring the teacher's lecture and giggling with their heads close together.

One girl in particular, who Aaron heard the teacher call Cara Knight, twittered to a group of captivated minions. Aaron figured she was the queen bee.

He wasn't wrong. Cara cornered him in the hallway after class, her minions surrounding her as she popped her gum and surveyed Aaron from head to toe." You don't belong here," she declared after a moment of heavy deliberation.

"I beg your pardon?" Aaron asked blankly. He checked his schedule, and he was certain he was exactly where he belonged- on the third floor, mere steps away from his second class of the day.?

Cara rolled her eyes. "Listen to the little peasant talk. The poor ant actually believes he belongs at Sherwood!" she laughed, tossing her head back so her golden locks spilled over her back, and her minions laughed with her.

Aaron frowned at her, thinking the white dress didn't suit her- she looked far too innocent. "Who died and made you queen?" he muttered under his breath- though not quiet enough to escape Cara's hearing.

"Oh, you silly peasant, nobody had to die. I was born to be queen," she said, her button nose in the air and her green eyes cold.

Aaron snorted, rolling his eyes. Cara's eyes narrowed to slits. She snapped her finger, and two of the largest boys Aaron had ever seen moved forward to stand on either side of her. "Dru, Oliver, show the ant what happens when you insult me," she ordered.

Aaron backed away from the hulking mountains as they approached him, but it was pointless. One of them snagged him, wrenching his right arm when he pinned both arms behind Aaron's back. Aaron, while not the shortest boy, was slim as a twig and his struggles were useless. Still, he tried to break free as the other mountain grabbed the messenger bag he used to carry his school things, ripping the strap to get it off Aaron's shoulder.

Aaron winced at the sound; he would be stuck with the broken bag, as he didn't have enough money to buy decent food, much less a new bag. He ceased his struggles, thinking the ruined bag would be enough to satisfy them.

Then the mountain with his bag moved to the open window, and Aaron's eyes went wide. "No!" he shouted, just as the mountain threw his bag out the window.

Aaron threw his head back, connecting with his captor's chin. The mountain was surprised enough to let him go. Aaron ignored the new throbbing pain in his head as well as the pain in his shoulder, and ran for the stairs. He knocked into people without?a word of apology, unusual for him; this time, he has something more important to worry about than manners.

He burst out the doors on the first floor and into the oppressive heat of an early August day, but even that wasn't enough to stop him. Aaron raced to where his bag had fallen, determined to save his papers before the dry, hot summer breeze stole them away.

He needn't have worried. Standing beneath that third story window was a boy who was rubbing his head with a puzzled expression. Aaron's bag was on the ground at the boy's feet, and his books were still in it. The tears that swam in Aaron's eyes before he blinked them away were of both anger and relief as he made a dash for his bag.

The other boy scooped it up before Aaron could. Aaron scrambled to a stop before he ran into the building, fixing the boy with a lethal glare. The?boy reached up and adjusted the white tie that matched his white jacket which, along with his black dress pants and shoes, were the unofficial boys' uniform of Sherwood Academy.

"I'll assume this is yours, then? You ought to take better care of your things. It's no wonder the bag is broken if you make a habit of tossing it out windows and hitting innocent students in the head," the boy chided, his green eyes as bright as his wicked smile.

Aaron fumbled to catch his bag when the other boy threw it, grimacing as it thumped into his chest. "I didn't throw it out the window," Aaron protested, but it was too late; the other boy had walked away without another word.

"Stupid spoiled brats," Aaron groaned, his patience already running thin. He inspected the torn strap of his bag; it had ripped along a seam, and he would be able to sew it back together easily. But that would have to wait until he got home, and he had to survive the rest of the day first. Sighing, he tied the halves of the strap together into a knot that would hold, but wouldn't be impossible to untie later. He slipped on the bag, frowning at how it sat on the shoulder the mountain had wrenched, but deemed it workable.

Aaron pulled out his phone, an old flip-to-open piece of junk he'd owned for years, and swore when he saw the time. Between Cara and the boy with the dark orange hair who had also been her unwitting victim, Aaron had missed the first fifteen minutes of his second class. Resigned to being tardy, he began to trudge back to the doors, wiping sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. The air-conditioned school building was a blessing, but it didn't lift Aaron's spirits. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and slouched up the stairs, all the way back up to the third floor.

By the time he stood in front of the teacher, he was a pathetic, rumpled mess of a student who managed to be late to his second class on the first day of school. Considering his grades on the senior entrance exam, which had been the highest in the school, and his current scholarship status, the teacher was understandably shocked. Aaron stammered out a vague?apology, but the classmates he recognized as Cara's minions gave him looks that said anything more would get him in even worse trouble.

The teacher didn't buy it for a second, sending Aaron to the back of the class with a disappointed frown. Aaron could feel the eyes of the raven haired boy from his first class, fixed on him as he slumped into his seat. Aaron ignored him and everybody else, devoting his full attention to the teacher instead.

The rest of the day was just like that. Though Aaron tried to ignore the other students' whispers, it became very clear to him that none of them liked him. At least he didn't see the redhead again, though Cara did cackle at him as they passed in the hallways. After what had already happened, even that was enough to push Aaron to the edge. By the time lunch hour rolled around, he was ready to snap.

He quickly found out the dining room on the first floor was a bad idea; people moved seats so there would be no room, or openly mocked him. After coming dangerously close to having Cara artfully spill her iced tea on his sweatshirt, Aaron had no patience left for the spoiled rich kids that filled the academy. He left the dining room with his shoulders back and head high- but as soon as he was out of their sight, he dropped the act.

Aaron found himself slouching through the school once more, peeking into rooms, trying to find a quiet place to eat lunch. He hadn't expected so many of them to be occupied; Sherwood Academy had far more students than he had imagined. Already annoyed, with his patience worn down to nothing, Aaron was prepared to force some of the rich brats out of their room by any means necessary. Luckily for the student body, he came across the East Lounge first.

Aaron paused at the door, lunch held tightly in his hands, and listened closely. He even went so far as to press his ear to the door. Not a sound was to be heard, and as far as Aaron could tell, the room was empty. He allowed himself a relieved smile and pushed the doors open.

Aaron walked into a tropical paradise. There was soft white sand on the floor, and honest to god palm trees swayed gently in the breeze from the open windows. He could hear the sound of the ocean, despite knowing he was still on the second floor of the school building. There were even beach towels spread out under giant beach umbrellas, despite the fact that they were inside, with a roof over their heads.

Oh yes, they were inside. Because perhaps the most startling part of the display were the swim trunk clad boys that were lounging about on beach towels. They had all looked up when the doors opened, and welcoming smiles lit their faces under their curious eyes.

Faced with their attention, Aaron felt his day sink to a new low, and had a feeling the worst was yet to come. Frozen in place, he swallowed hard, and then summed up his feelings with an eloquent, "Damn."

Warm Welcome

The beach boys weren't sure what they should be the most startled by. They almost never had a guest the first day of school, and their guests were never male no matter what the day. And they were certainly never a boy like the one that stood in front of them, with his ragged clothes and choppy hair, eyes wide as saucers. They all stared at the boy for a second; then he swore, breaking the tension, and the beach boys decided it was safe to act.

The first one to his feet was the boy with the golden hair and perfect body. Aaron disliked him immediately; recent events had shown him the beautiful, especially when they were rich, were not to be trusted. The blonde didn't seem to notice the wary distrust in Aaron's eyes, stepping forward and offering his hand. Taking it was automatic, but Aaron gasped at the feel of lips on the back of his hand. His face flamed up while the golden boy watched, amusement in eyes that were a startling shade of light blue.

"Welcome to the host club," the golden boy said in a smooth, warm voice that held just the slightest hint of an accent Aaron couldn't identify. Aaron tried to snatch his hand back, but it was too late; the other boy reeled him in, the tickle of his breath fluttering against Aaron's ear as he spoke making Aaron turn a whole new shade of red, "My name is Roman, though of course you already know that." He laughed as if he said something silly.

"I didn't, actually," Aaron snapped, trying to push Roman away.

Roman let him have a few inches of space, a knowing smile on his pretty face. "Ah, so you're not looking for your personal Prince Charming, then," Roman pursed his lips, inspecting Aaron until his smile returned, "I know! With that sour expression you must be looking for someone to brighten you up. Well we have just the thing for you, our very own pranksters."

He spun Aaron away with an elegant twist of his wrist. Aaron stumbled forward, right into the arms of another boy. No, not just one boy, but two, identical with their red-orange hair, deep green eyes, and mischievous smiles. Aaron groaned; as if the situation wasn't bad enough already, of course he had to run into him.

"Thrown your bag out of any more windows?" the boy whispered in his ear. Aaron flinched away from him, but it served to press him closer to the boy who could only have been the irritating boy's twin.

"Those fools are Benji and Harry, twin prankster extraordinaires. If you're looking for a prankster, or you're into the brotherly love thing, they're perfect for you," Roman affirmed Aaron's suspicions, but his words sounded more like a sales pitch than an introduction.

Aaron struggled against the twins, and they laughed in his ear; the sound was oddly appealing, making Aaron's heart jump sideways and his temperature run hotter- he was lucky to not be aflame. "I'm not looking for-"

"Not looking for a prankster. Shame- they get so little attention," Roman smirked, earning glares from the twins. Still, they didn't try to resist when Roman drew Aaron away from them, "Well then, you seem like the quiet, frail type. Perhaps you're looking for a man who will stand up for you? If that's the case, Marcus here is your man."

Aaron suddenly found himself face to face with a boy who was even more intimidating than Cara's mountains. He wasn't particularly tall, but he was muscular and had strong features. His shaved hair was brown, and his aquamarine eyes stood out starkly in his dark-skinned face- it didn't help soften his stern expression any. "Pleased to meet you," Marcus rumbled.

Aaron immediately tried to back away, hands clenched protectively around the strap of his bag. He desperately searched the room for an escape, and came across something he hadn't expected: the raven-haired boy who had watched Aaron so carefully with those blue-black eyes. The boy still stared at Aaron as if trying to figure out a great mystery; Aaron stared back with wide eyes, trying to telegraph his desperate need for escape.

Roman caught Aaron's stare, and misinterpreted it. "So it's the intellectual type you're into, then. Should've guessed; with that raggedy hair, you're practically screaming for a proper man. Go on, then, Kris will take good care of you."

Roman gave Aaron a light shove, sending him reeling into Kris's arms. The two boys looked at each other for a moment, eyes locked. Frowning, Kris reached out to take Aaron's glasses off, as if they would reveal something vitally important. Once they were removed, Kris searched Aaron's face again; realization dawned, and a small smirk curved up his lips as he figured out the puzzle.

It was then that Aaron truly began to panic. "Let me go!" he shouted, shoving at Kris. The other boy didn't budge, but he let go of Aaron. The force of the shove sent the slender boy stumbling back. His ratty sneakers caught in one of the beach towels, turning his ankle beneath him. Aaron fell back as Kris shouted for somebody to catch him.

It was too late, and the loud rip of canvas filled a room that became suddenly silent but for the sound of the ocean- which was coming from the speaker right next to Aaron's head. He had a moment of stillness to try and regain his wits, which the boys had stolen when they whirled him around the room. It didn't last long; the boys were soon at each others' throats.

"I told you to put it somewhere safe!"

"We did!"

"Does it look safe to you?"

"We just used it to hide the speakers! We didn't think some kid would come traipsing into the room and-"

The argument went on while Aaron tried to figure out what had happened. A quick inspection gave him a good guess. When he had tripped, he hadn't looked to see if he would fall on anything. Aaron knew he should have; leave it to his bad luck to add another misfortune to his day. But of course he hadn't looked, and he had fallen head-first into a painting of a beach scene in a gilded fame that had been used to cover up the speakers which filled the room with the ocean sound.

"That painting was made by a famous artist!"

"I know, Roman."

"It was for charity!"

"I know, Roman!"

Aaron sat up carefully, removing the frame from around his neck. Then he reached gentle, probing fingers under his hair, searching for any damage. To his relief, all he found was sand.

"How are we going to replace it?"

Aaron carefully stood up and, since they all seemed embroiled in the argument, snuck towards the door.

"Replace thirty thousand dollars? That's impossible! I doubt our little guest could cover the cost. Right, Aaron?"

Aaron froze in place when Kris spoke his name. He slowly turned to face them, not meeting their eyes, and shuffled his feet.

"I think that's answer enough."

"But there has to be something. He just ripped thirty thousand dollars!" Roman was shouting; though it made Aaron flinch, none of the other boys were affected in the least. They just kept on arguing- all of them, except for one of the twins.

Aaron locked eyes, brown to green, and once more silently begged for help.?The boy?put his hands on his bare hips, just over the board shorts he was wearing to match the scenery. The sparkle in his green eyes was familiar. It made it obvious the twin he was asking for help was the one that most likely had a bump from his high-speed collision with Aaron's messenger bag. The glint in his eyes told Aaron he had asked the wrong person for help yet again; the twin wasn't going to help any more than Kris had.

"I have an idea," the twin spoke up.

The other boys turned to him even as Aaron desperately motioned for him to stop. But it was too late; the twin had already invested, and he wasn't going back now.

"This better be good," Marcus spoke up, and there was a roughness to the voice that had been like velvet.

"Oh it is," the twin assured him, beaming. He paused a moment, as if to add to the suspense, then gave his answer, "We should make this Aaron kid our pet!"