| Chapter 1 |
| James Lance Bass sat in front of the mirror, looking over his appearance with a grimace. His pale green eyes no longer held the sparkle in them that came with the innocence of a young child. He was sixteen years old, and rather feminine looking. He ran a pale hand through his thick hair, which was cut into a plain and hideous bowl-shape, and sighed. He chewed on his lip and stared at the pair of scissors and gel that sat next to him on the bathroom counter. Today was the first day of school, again, and Lance was dreading it like the plague. He lived out in the countryside of Mississippi, and helped his mother and sister work the farm. His dad had died when he was only five years old, and he didn't remember much about him. The only thing he knew, was that he had been the best horse rider this side of the Mississippi. Lance smiled to himself. 'One day, Dad,' he thought. 'One day, I'm going to be the best horse rider there ever was, and you'll be proud of me.' Lance sighed and picked up the scissors with a shaky hand. He gathered a chunk of bangs between his index and middle finger, closed his eyes, and started snipping. It was time for a change. ~*~ "James! James Lance! Hurry your butt down here boy, before your breakfast gets cold!" Diane Bass sighed loudly, setting a plate of pancakes in front of her youngest child's seat. Her oldest, Stacy, was sitting across the table, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and eating quietly. Diane smiled fondly, tucking a few blonde strands of hair behind her daughter's ear. She heard soft footsteps coming from the stairs, but no one came out. "James? Is that you?" she asked. "Yes, mama," came the shy reply. "Well, git down here and eat!" said Diane, growing annoyed as the time passed. "Your cakes is gonna git cold!" She turned around with a sigh and started washing the counters. There was an audible sigh, and then the sound of footsteps could be heard again. Lance stepped into the kitchen slowly, stopping by the door and squeezing his eyes shut. "James, I told you to- what in the hell?" yelled Diane. Stacy turned in her seat, her eyes bugging out as she started to laugh hysterically at her younger brother. Lance's face flushed a dark red, and he absently ran a hand through his newly spiked hair. "What in high heavens have you done to your hair?" shrieked Diane, running over to her son and cupping his chin. She turned his head roughly as she looked at his new hairstyle. "I-I kinda like it mama," said Lance shyly. "Don't you talk back to me boy," said Diane, pinching Lance's chin tightly in her hand. Lance winced but said nothing. "Your hair was perfectly fine before. Now you done gone and ruined it! You look like a little hoodlum James! How could you?" Lance hung his head, embarrassed and ashamed. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just-" "I don't wanna hear your excuses James," said Diane, her southern accent sharper than ever when she was mad. "Now sit down at eat before you're late for school." Lance nodded and sat down, taking little bites of food and ignoring his sister, who was still red in the face from laughing so hard. The phone rang, and Diane rushed to get it. It was one of her girlfriends from town, and Lance groaned quietly when they started talking about him. "...just cut it right off," Diane was saying loudly. "He even put gel in it and spiked it up so that he looks like that James Dean fella!" She sighed loudly. "I swears it Betty, that boy will be the death of me. That's right. Always got to have one good kid and one troublemaker..." Lance sighed and dropped his fork. He wiped his mouth and grabbed his backpack from beside him, heading for the door. His sister watched him get up and shrugged. "Don't be late for school again Lance," she reminded. "You know how mad mama gets when you-" "Mama gets mad at me for about everything I do," said Lance sadly. "I won't be late." He walked out of his house, shutting the door behind him. Inhaling the fresh air, Lance jumped down the steps and turned in the dirt path, heading to school. |