"My god, what a tacky decorating scheme," was the first thought that popped into my head when I saw the inside of the main building at True Directions. It was surreal. Bright pinks and hyper-saturated blues, with the occasional background of eye-searing yellow. Furniture like something out of a parody of the '50s. It was just so... cartoonish. Did whoever furnished the place have no taste at all?
My second thought was that maybe Justin had been on to something after all, because that first thought had been pretty gay.
Not that I was gay. All joking aside, I really had no idea what the hell my teacher, my foster-father, was thinking when he sent me here. I mean, yeah, so I'd never had a girlfriend. So what? I was sixteen, gangly and awkward, and spent all my time not at school at home studying magic. The only girl I actually talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, my freaking foster-sister, and it's not like I could start dating her.
But Justin was convinced, and that meant that I was stuck here for who knows how long. Not learning any magic. And if I didn't play along, I risked getting tossed back into the system, no family, nobody to teach my to use my gifts, nobody to look out for me... I shuddered. I couldn't let that happen.
Well, these guys were supposed to be professionals. Maybe Justin might have the wrong idea, but the people here, they'd know I wasn't... like that. Maybe Justin would believe them, and I could go home, get back to working on my shield spells with Elaine.
Half an hour later, I wasn't so optimistic. I met the program director, a woman named Mary who's personality was as plastic as her face. I told her that I wasn't gay. She told me that admitting I had a problem was the first step. I met her assistant, Mike, apparently a former homosexual. After he interrogated me about my supposed 'unnatural desires,' I wasn't so sure about the 'former' bit.
Then they made me change into this... grey... thing. Kind of like a hospital gown. It didn't even close in back. What the hell they were doing putting me in something that didn't cover my butt and then throw me in with a bunch of gay guys, I don't know. I tied it together as well as I could. I would apparently earn the right to wear real clothing when I 'admitted' to my 'sickness.'
I was pretty sure I wouldn't be allowed to wear my wizard robe, though. They'd probably think it was a dress.
They had another inmate of the camp, a guy named Jeff who seemed to be a living fulfillment of gay stereotype, show me around and tell me about what we'd be doing all day. It sounded like a bunch of gobbeldygook to me- this kind of therapy, that kind of therapy. At least there was some free time I could use to study.
"And here's where we sleep!" Jeff said cheerfully as he opened a door painted in that ubiquitous shade of blue in keeping with Mary's bizare color-coding fetish. The dormitory was also blue. Blue walls, blue carpet, blue ceiling, blue beds. With wide eyes, he said, in a stage whisper, "Remember: no inappropriate behavior allowed."
"Uh..." I said.
"He means no fucking," said a bored voice from one of the beds. Well, from a guy sprawled across on one of the beds, but I hadn't noticed him at first, what with his clothes being exactly the same shade as the bedspread. He was a classically handsome kind of guy- dark brown hair, strong but refined jawline, and the sort of muscles you get from playing a sport or doing manual labor rather than spending hours in the weight room. He looked about nineteen or twenty. He was reading a book entitled Macroeconomics: A Global Perspective, and next to him were a few more thick, heavy textbooks.
"Wasn't planning on it," I said.
The guy looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Too bad," he said.
Jeff glared at him and hustled me out again. I was kind of uncomfortably aware of the other guy's eyes on my imperfectly covered back. "Sorry," Jeff said once the door was closed. "John has... an attitude problem. I don't think he's trying."
"Gee, really?" I said.
"Anyway," Jeff said, "Sooo, there's five steps to the program, ok? The first step is admitting you have a problem."
"Great," I said. "I don't. I'm straight. Can I go home now?"
"Oh, honey," Jeff said, shaking his head as he led me back to the main room, "we all think that at first."
But I'm a Wizard FILL 1/?
My second thought was that maybe Justin had been on to something after all, because that first thought had been pretty gay.
Not that I was gay. All joking aside, I really had no idea what the hell my teacher, my foster-father, was thinking when he sent me here. I mean, yeah, so I'd never had a girlfriend. So what? I was sixteen, gangly and awkward, and spent all my time not at school at home studying magic. The only girl I actually talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, my freaking foster-sister, and it's not like I could start dating her.
But Justin was convinced, and that meant that I was stuck here for who knows how long. Not learning any magic. And if I didn't play along, I risked getting tossed back into the system, no family, nobody to teach my to use my gifts, nobody to look out for me... I shuddered. I couldn't let that happen.
Well, these guys were supposed to be professionals. Maybe Justin might have the wrong idea, but the people here, they'd know I wasn't... like that. Maybe Justin would believe them, and I could go home, get back to working on my shield spells with Elaine.
Half an hour later, I wasn't so optimistic. I met the program director, a woman named Mary who's personality was as plastic as her face. I told her that I wasn't gay. She told me that admitting I had a problem was the first step. I met her assistant, Mike, apparently a former homosexual. After he interrogated me about my supposed 'unnatural desires,' I wasn't so sure about the 'former' bit.
Then they made me change into this... grey... thing. Kind of like a hospital gown. It didn't even close in back. What the hell they were doing putting me in something that didn't cover my butt and then throw me in with a bunch of gay guys, I don't know. I tied it together as well as I could. I would apparently earn the right to wear real clothing when I 'admitted' to my 'sickness.'
I was pretty sure I wouldn't be allowed to wear my wizard robe, though. They'd probably think it was a dress.
They had another inmate of the camp, a guy named Jeff who seemed to be a living fulfillment of gay stereotype, show me around and tell me about what we'd be doing all day. It sounded like a bunch of gobbeldygook to me- this kind of therapy, that kind of therapy. At least there was some free time I could use to study.
"And here's where we sleep!" Jeff said cheerfully as he opened a door painted in that ubiquitous shade of blue in keeping with Mary's bizare color-coding fetish. The dormitory was also blue. Blue walls, blue carpet, blue ceiling, blue beds. With wide eyes, he said, in a stage whisper, "Remember: no inappropriate behavior allowed."
"Uh..." I said.
"He means no fucking," said a bored voice from one of the beds. Well, from a guy sprawled across on one of the beds, but I hadn't noticed him at first, what with his clothes being exactly the same shade as the bedspread. He was a classically handsome kind of guy- dark brown hair, strong but refined jawline, and the sort of muscles you get from playing a sport or doing manual labor rather than spending hours in the weight room. He looked about nineteen or twenty. He was reading a book entitled Macroeconomics: A Global Perspective, and next to him were a few more thick, heavy textbooks.
"Wasn't planning on it," I said.
The guy looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Too bad," he said.
Jeff glared at him and hustled me out again. I was kind of uncomfortably aware of the other guy's eyes on my imperfectly covered back. "Sorry," Jeff said once the door was closed. "John has... an attitude problem. I don't think he's trying."
"Gee, really?" I said.
"Anyway," Jeff said, "Sooo, there's five steps to the program, ok? The first step is admitting you have a problem."
"Great," I said. "I don't. I'm straight. Can I go home now?"
"Oh, honey," Jeff said, shaking his head as he led me back to the main room, "we all think that at first."