Held Back Theater 1

Stonewall Academy was a prestigious academy that only accepted the best of the best students from junior high and grade schools in the state and turned out elite citizens, captains of industries, unparalleled painters, writers, nobel prize winners, and preeminent directors and actors, and star athletes. Five of the last eight American Olympic medalists had once called Stonewall Academy home. Stonewall Academy being the elite school that it was, gave little out in terms of scholarships and when they did it was only to the most exceptional students. Or ones with parents wealthy enough to afford one of the best schools in the country.

Stonewall Academy’s principal Victor McCullin owed it’s elite status to the spirit of competition he fostered among the student’s many clubs. Where most schools would reward well performing students or groups with a “pizza day” Stonewall awarded the best performing with an all expenses paid trip to any number of countries. This not only motivated the students to do better, but also allowed the students to experience world cultures first hand.

Last year the drama club had won a trip to Japan with their modern retelling of ‘Death of a Salesman’. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, or a full wallet after the generous donations they brought in that year. Which is why tonight, in the late autumn evening, six boys scaled the stone wall for which the school was originally named over a century ago.

The group of boys raced across the field to the unlocked gym door. Silently, the first that reached the door, turned and placed a finger over his lips before pulling the door open enough to squeeze his thin frame through with a small squeak from the door. The five boys followed through, walking carefully, they slunk into the theater. The Fortune Theater was a coned shaped mid-size continental with three aisles for guests and players to walk down with the back row of eighty-eight seats and the front row of thirty seats with a ten foot gap between the front row and the pit under the stage. The boys hunkered low until they reached the center aisle where they laid out two duffle bags, “Alright,” An Auburn haired boy, their apparent leader in the prank, whispered, “you guys know what to do. If you hear anyone comin’?
“Nice knowin’ ya Sprout.” a blonde boy responded jovially in the dim light. Toby’s jaw clenched at the nickname.
A redheaded boy slapped the back of the blonde’s head, “we give the signal, then run.”
“That’s what I said.” The blonde whined with a pout.
“Shh.” The group hushed the boy.
“Alright,” Toby checked his phone, a beautiful blonde girl in a white bikini, held him under an old pier shone in the otherwise dark huddle, the time reading seven minutes to ten. “we got ten minutes before security circles back. Get to work.”

The two boys nodded and unzipped their bags as the other four boys made their way to the front row. All four boys climbed over the orchestra pit, one dropping silently into it before opening his bag of spray paints and packages of fish while the other three boys scaled the wall and rolled onto the stage. The two who followed Toby onto the stage opened their own bags of spray paints and entire cans of paint while Toby hurried backstage with his own bag.
The redhead giant hurled loose rolls of toilet paper in perfect spirals as high as could, covering several rows of seats in paper while his blonde compatriot gleefully covered as many seats as he could in an overabundance of silly string.
The lone boy in the pit sprayed crude images of dicks and notso creative slurs in neon green paint. When his cans ran out he tore open the supermarket fish, finding the best hiding places for all five he had brought. Some would be found the following Monday, by then the smell would linger so he didn’t care. But with his last fish he found the perfect hiding place between the pit wall and the stage itself. Even if they found the fish, it would be a bitch to get to it.
On stage the two boys found the leftover set pieces and slung buckets of blue and red paint on each set piece they could find, splattering the stage with the same paint as they tossed them away.

Backstage Toby found more set pieces he lazily sprayed with his own orange paint as he walked. He figured on there being more set pieces and props backstage, but that wasn’t what he was after. Props and sets could be rebuilt, with a dedicated enough crew it could be fixed within a week. No, his goal laid deeper within.
He stopped at a painted door, for a moment he admired the beautiful floral painting that bloomed from it, spreading its flowered vines around the otherwise black wall of the backstage. Toby shook himself loose and tried the door, finding it locked he bent down and opened his bag. He set aside the bottles of bleach, a crowbar, before taking out the ventilated painters mask and affixed it to his face. Toby wasn’t the strongest kid in school by any means, but with the appropriate application of leverage he was able to pop the lock free of the frame just as Kendall. Without hesitation he grabbed his bottles and went into the small room, closing the beautiful door behind him.

During most of the year the wardrobe would spill out backstage, finding space wherever it could for whatever show they were putting on. But during the first month of school, before any talks of dress rehearsals happened, the wardrobe was housed in what could laughably called a room but was still larger than most walk-in closets with all the clothes
Toby tore the cap off his first bottle of bleach as he reached the back end of the room and poured the first bottle over several clothes and costumes. He repeated this process two more times before he was finished, only managing to get half of the clothes before running out of bleach.
Stepping back out of the wardrobe Toby came face to face with a beautiful redhead he had never seen before. She stood barefoot in front of him, a series of brushes in the front pocket of her paint stained overalls. A pair of headset curled around her neck as her green eyes examined the strange boy. "What are you doing?" Her voice started slow and gentle but grew harsher as she continued, "You're not supposed to be here!"
"I, had, Mr, uh," Toby struggled to recall the name of the drama teacher but came up short, and shifted tact, "Spraying for bugs."
"What?"
Toby nodded, "Got a call from, uh, corporate. Says I gotta spray for bugs."
"Uh-huh. Where's your equipment?"
Toby pretended to look for his nonexistent equipment, "Well shoot. I forgot it in the van. I'm'll go get it, so why don't you get outta here. You don't wanna be here when we start spraying."
"Aren’t you supposed to have a work order?"
Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his friends peeking around the corner. Toby waved his friends off quietly. “Shoot, I forgot that too.” He chuckled behind his mask, “One of those days huh? Wait here, I’ll be right back with everything.” Toby walked briskly away from the strange girl who took note of the empty bag, busted lock, and intense smell of bleach before giving chase.
“Mr. Laramy!” She shouted at the top of her lungs.

Out in the hall Toby caught up with his friends who had been bickering over if they should go back for Toby or not. "We can't leave Sprout!" Billy hissed in a loud whisper.
“Move it slow asses!” He shouted as he ran passed them. The boys quickly scrambled after Toby. He hated the stupid nickname they had given him. Even his real name, Tobias, was better. When he first came to the academy he was shorter and thinner than the rest. Finally puberty hit and he grew half a foot over winter break, but he was still rail thin. Earning him the nickname, Sprout. But he was still the fastest of them!

Knowing a more direct path out of the theater and having a key the girl bounded out of a door hot on their heels. “Mr. Laramy!” She shouted again, her voice echoing all through the halls.

“Leave it to Sprout to piss off a damn harpy!” The blonde boy laughed as he struggled to keep pace with his friends.
“What can I say?" He slid to a stop at the gym door, "Women just can’t get enough of me.” He threw open the gym door for his friends, hearing the sound of heavy, hurried, footfalls and a rapid jingling of metal from a nearby hall. “Fuck she called the cops?!” Toby shouted, pointing at a broad-shouldered man barreling down the hall at breakneck speeds. After his last friend hurried through the door, Toby followed his friends into the gym and knocked three large blue mats in front of the door before racing across the basketball court. As the first of them slammed into the still open outer gym door the broad Mr. Laramy slammed into the gym door. For a moment the boys dropped to the ground, thinking this crazed cop had taken a shot at them. By the time they realized what happened Laramy had forced the mats away from the door and cleared them without delay.
“Nah man, that’s the fucking terminator!” The blonde boy shouted as he scrambled to his feet.

They boys were halfway across the large field by the time Laramy had cleared the second door. The boys ran with more confidence now, no matter how big this strange man was, he was older, and they were the track team. The only obstacle left was the stone wall; A nearly six foot obstacle that is easy enough to scale when you’re calmly sneaking in, but decidedly harder when being pursued by a charging rhino. The first to reach the wall was the redheaded boy, Quentin, at six feet himself he leapt, caught his hands on the top of the wall and pulled himself over in a perfect motion that spoke directly to his natural athleticism.

The next to hit the wall was Toby, having passed his slower crew, at five foot seven he had to be more creative with his ascent. He planted his foot on the wall, catching his foot on a protruding stone, and throwing himself over the top where he fell to the ground below. He paused for a moment to gather his bearings; Quentin had started his truck and backed it up to the wall, three bodies flung themselves over the wall, Wally and Jay slamming into the truck bed, Kyle just missing and swearing as he toppled to the ground before picking himself up and climbing into the cab.

Doing the math in his head, “Where’s Billy?” he panted.
“Dudes!”
“Fuck!” Toby climbed into the truck bed and reached over the wall, finding the 5’4 Billy struggling to scale the wall. “C’mon!” Toby shouted, reaching his arm out as far as he could.
“I can’t!” He jumped desperately, still unable to reach Toby’s hand.
Glancing up he saw Laramy closing in on both of them, “Fuck it.”
Toby’s friends shouted as he dropped to the opposite side of the wall, “C’mon, up.” Using his hands as a platform he was able to lift Billy up enough to be pulled into the truck bed by his waiting friends. Following quickly Toby scaled the wall, much slower than before now that he lost the momentum that carried him the first time. As he crested the top of the wall he reached for his friends when a pair of large hands clamped around his leg. “Shit!” he shouted as he was pulled off of the wall and slammed into the dirt by a broad-shouldered janitor named Laramy.


The next morning, after spending a night in jail, Toby stood in the principal's office, Principal McCullin, and now his parents Leanne and Rory Laughlin who were dressed for church. “Victor.” Rory shook the principal’s hand as he walked into his office, not looking towards his son while his wife Leanne frowned but hugged her son, checking him over again for any injuries from staying overnight in the shared cell, “What exactly happened?” Unlike most of the students, Toby was one of the students whose parents had bought their way into Stonewall Academy.

Victor rubbed his goatee, gathering his thoughts before he began, “Last night Tobias was caught in the act of vandalizing the theater.”
“That’s what the police told me last night.” Rory glared at his son, having let his son spend the night in the cold jail cell rather than bailing him out immediately and bringing him back home to his room and nice soft bed. He had caught an earful from his wife, but he had held firm.
“Yes, well according to witnesses there was more than just your Tobias. But he refuses to tell me who else was involved.”
“Well?” Rory looked to his son who silently stared at the corner of the room, resting his fist against his mouth, having pulled away from his mom.
“We’re no stranger to pranks here at Stonewall.” Victor added in the silence and passed out photos to Rory, “Toilet paper and spray paint are one thing, but the bleach, and not to mention the smell? This is beyond just simply giving Tobias detention. We know he didn’t do this alone so if he tells us who helped him maybe we can work something out.”
Rory had to keep himself from chuckling at some of the words spray painted on the orchestra pit and reminded himself in the end it would be him who paid for all the damages. “You think a night in jail and this is all over?” He growled, “You’re already grounded from everything for two weeks. If you don’t tell this man who helped your retarded ass it’ll be a month.”
“Rory!” Leanne cut in, defending her son from his father’s insults. “That’s enough!” Her voice shifted from the steely edge it had a moment ago into her usual soft and soothing voice as she turned to her son, “Why did you do this?” Toby glanced at his mom and dad before shrugging.
“If he won’t talk then I’m afraid…” Victor sighed, “he’s looking at suspension and being banned from all extracurricular activities. And possibly pursuing criminal charges.”
“That’s bullshit!” Toby shouted, speaking for the first time.
“You’re not serious.” Rory turned to Victor now.
“The damages to the theater are extensive, we’ll have to hire a cleaning crew and purchase new costumes. If he won’t tell us who helped him then he has to carry that burden alone.” Toby crossed his arms and glared at the corner, refusing to answer, "Then we have no choice."
"Bullshit." Toby swore under his breath.
"Toby, Leanne go wait in the car."
"Whatever." Toby stormed out of the office, his mother taking the papers from her husband and quickly following after Toby.


Toby thought about his circumstance as he walked back to the car with his mother, it wasn't even his idea to do this stupid prank. It was Kendall's. But he certainly wasn't going to rat her or his friends out. The best he could do was hope his dad could talk the principal out of sending him to jail. Sleeping on the steel bench with a bunch of drunken idiots was bad enough.

Sitting in the car Leanne looked over the photos of what her son and his friends had done. Tping wasn't too bad, she had done similar when she was his age, though she had only done it the once on Halloween. The paint on the stage and the bleach stained clothes were awful. But what was worse were the slurs painted on the orchestra pit. She knew her son would never be so cruel as to use such language against someone. She was sure of it. "Toby," she turned around in her seat after a long minute of her just shuffling printed out papers, "look at me." Toby turned from the window he had been staring out of angrily, "Did you do this?" She handed him the page with photos of the slurs.

He looked over the words, some were funny, like calling them a "band of bitches!" A few dirty limericks "There was a young vampire called Mabel, whose periods were always quite stable, at every full moon, she took out a spoon, and drank herself under the table." Definitely Wally's humor, he always loved "gross out humor." As he scanned past the limericks he found what his mother was likely referring too.

She hated hearing him curse, like most mothers he knew, but what really was upsetting to her were the words "Flute faggots!","Dyke drummer!", and "Trombone Trannies!" Sprayed over the walls.
"No ma'am." Toby said softly, crumbling the papers in his hands and staring back out of the window.
A second later, before any more discussion could be had, Toby’s father climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door in silence. Everyone held their breath waiting for Rory to speak, “I worked things out with Victor, you won’t be suspended and you won’t be kicked off of the team.” Toby’s shoulders relaxed the tension he had been holding on to, “Instead, you’re going to clean up the mess you made.”
“By myself?!”
“Unless you can think of anyone else who should join you.”
Toby shook his head, “No, sir.”
“Then you’re doing it by yourself. After school you’ll go to Mr…whatever his name is and you’re not to leave unless he says you can.”
“After school…what about-”
“I already discussed that with Victor, it won’t interfere with practice.”
“Okay…”
Rory turned around in his seat, his eyes full of fire as they stared at his son, “It is not okay.” He growled, “That man was seriously considering pressing charges, and if you do anything–” he shouted, but caught himself before he continued–“anything to get in trouble again and you absolutely will be damned lucky if missing track practice is all you get.” Rory turned back around, hiding his frown from his son. Leanne placed a hand on his wrist and gave it a small squeeze before he started the car and they drove home in silence.


The following Monday, Toby met with his friends itching to hear the story of what happened after he was pulled back over the wall. The first was Billy who met him, as he did every day when Toby picked him up in his Jeep. “I’m surprised your parents still let you keep your car.”
“Gotta get to school somehow.”
“So how bad is it?”
“Welp, I’m allowed to go to school and breathe.”
“At least they let you breathe.” Billy laughed. Toby just smirked and continued driving. "Can you imagine what would happen if I got caught?" Billy laughed, "Extra! Extra!" He shouted over the wind, "Son of Coach Crawford disappoints his dad again!" Billy laughed.
"...Billy?" Billy faced Toby as he drove, making sure to keep his smile intact, "That'd be like a headline saying water is wet, wouldn't it?" He asked with a chuckle to his voice.
"Yeah I guess so." Billy smiled and turned on the radio.

In the parking lot he parked next to a pink convertible where three blonde girls gathered. Kendall, or Dall as everyone called her, turned with her trademark smile. Which is not just a simple metaphor; she had a modeling contract and was rumored her agent had trademarked her smile. Toby climbed out of the jeep and stared up at his girlfriend. Or sometime girlfriend, over the last two years they had broken up a half dozen times, but he always managed to win her back from whatever musclebound idiot she was dating in the meantime. She was already taller than him at 5'10 but she insisted on wearing heels at all times. Currently she stood in bright pink four inch stilettos. “Boo Bear!” She gushed, hugging Toby.
Billy chuckled as he carefully climbed out of the jeep, having to put one foot on the large tire so he wouldn’t dangle. “Cram it, Billy.”
“He’s just jealous he doesn’t have a hot girlfriend.”
“Maybe if you borrowed our heels you might could find a girl.” One of the blondes giggled, flicking his shaggy blonde hair. The blondes, who everyone mistook for twins, despite not being related, loved to pick on Billy.
Students at Stonewall fell into three categories; The first and majority of the student body were the ones who earned their place at Stonewall through hard work and high grades or were exceptionally skilled, where people like Quentin fell, the second were the scholarship kids, which usually reserved for impoverished and lucky students, in the last decade including Kendall, her blonde non-twins, and Toby. The third and final were students like Billy. Children whose parents worked at the school.

“Be nice to the short king.” Dall’s voice was sweet but still condescending.
“It’s all good. I’m happy being short–” He shrugged–“Just like I’m happy of the four of us, I’m the only real blonde.” Billy winked at Toby and started running just in time to duck the second fake blonde’s claw reaching out to grab him up by his collar before running after him. Billy was by far the slowest guy on the team, but he could at least outrun two top-heavy Barbies in high heels.

Toby couldn’t help but chuckle at Billy’s comment as he ran away, covering his mouth before Dall whipped back around to face him. “Anyway, we need to talk.” She bent over the side of her car and reached into the floor of the backseat and took out a second pair of pink heels. Other than being three inch stilettos they were identical in every way.
“Mhm…” he stared carefully at her exposed butt and the white knee high socks she wore while she was bent over. He broke his gaze before she turned around. “What about?”
She smirked as she raised herself onto the trunk of her car and unbuckled her heel. She knew he had been staring at her, he was a boy after all, and he only looked her in the eye after he had just got done staring. “What happened with Luthor?” She asked, placing her shoes into the backseat.

“Ah, he yelled and called my folks but–” he shrugged, “it’s all good.”
“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes, he was a boy after all, “Did you get into trouble?” she asked, handing Toby the first heel.
Toby frowned as he took the shoe and considered what he should say, "Not really," He lied.
"Hey," she said with a pout, "I'm not happy about having to do this either. You think I like doubling up on all my cute shoes just so that old perverted Luthor won't write me up again?" She crossed her arms under her chest. She had complained more than a dozen times about principal Mccullin, or as she and many students referred to him, Luthor due to his completely bald head.
"...yes."
"Still." She huffed, knowing Toby was more than aware of her wall of shoes in her closet.
"But if he didn't then I wouldn't get to put the beautiful Cinderella's slipper on."
"Charmer." She smiled. "Anyway, you didn't get in trouble? Not at all?” She shook her foot and watched him expectantly.
He knelt down and slipped her shoe on her foot. Last year she won prom queen and the next day he helped her put on her shoe as a joke and now she expected him to do it every day. “Nah.” He buckled the first strap before taking the other heel and repeating the actions.
She nodded with a pout and held her hands out. Toby stood up, helping Kendall off of the car. "That's good." She cooed, whispering softly in his ear, "There is a party I was trying to find the right date for." She continued, running one nailed fingers down his chest, stopping at his belt as she says, "It is going to be so much fun..." she makes eye contact as she smiles. "But I need to know who is going to be free to go or if…" she pauses, her voice catching in her throat,"If I will even be free." she says with all the strength of a wounded puppy dog, "Do you know who the school is going to punish for giving the drama nerds a little payback?"
Toby swallowed hard and tried to shift his blood flow back to his brain by sheer force of will, "I." His voice cracked, rising three octaves in a half second. Clearing his throat he started again, "I didn't mention anyone." Regaining his confidence he pulls Kendall into him, "Especially not you. I'd never get you in trouble."
"My hero." She swooned, kissing him gently at first but increasing until they were making out in the parking lot

The bell rang, breaking their hold on one another, "So you'll come to my party Friday?" she wrapped her arms around his arm, making sure to press her breasts into him as they walked to class.
"Of course." He answered without an idea of how he'd keep his word.
"Yay!" She cheered, "Make sure to make an appointment for me Thursday at Peach’s salon.”
“Why?”
"So I can get my nails done silly. And don't forget to give them a card number for the bill."
Toby stared at Kendall for a moment, her parents were much wealthier than his. His father worked most of his life to attain his wealth and status, he knew because his dad never shut up about it whenever Toby did wrong. Kendall's parents were both from wealthy families and she even had her own money from her modeling career. "I don't think-"
“Shh,” she giggled, cutting him off and putting a finger to his lips, “you're cuter when you don't think." She kissed his cheek softly before whispering into his ear, "Besides, afterwards, I’ll show you just how grateful I can be.” She gently kissed his lips before she started talking about what she planned to wear to her party. Boys like Toby were not only easy to manipulate, but fun too.