*Please Note* 

While the following story is not sexually explicit, it does discuss a mature topic and may
not be suitable for some readers.  The opinions represented in this fanfic are solely those 
of the author.


			“Out of the Closet and Into the Fire”

			a Tiny Toon Adventures fanfiction story

				by Renee Carter Hall
				(renjef@earthlink.net)


	“How long until spring break?” Buster groaned, falling into his seat.
	“A month,” Babs replied in the same tone, chin in palm.  “Practically forever.”
	Plucky spoke up from the next desk.  “I could build another time machine--”
	“*No!*” Buster and Babs chorused.
	“It was just a suggestion.”  Miffed, Plucky pulled out a comic and started reading.  
He slipped it into his textbook as the bell rang.
	“All right, class, settle down.”  Foghorn Leghorn stepped into the room, followed
by a feline student no one recognized.
	He was wearing jeans and a purple vest that left his shoulders and arms bare, 
showing off the spots that mottled his tan fur.  He regarded the class silently for a 
moment, the tip of his tail twitching slightly.
	“We’ve got, I say, we’ve got a new student with us today, class.  Transfer, that is.  
Class, this is...”  Foghorn fumbled through his papers.
	“My name’s--” the student began.
	“Don’t interrupt me, boy, it’s bad manners.  Let’s see, now...”  He picked up a roll 
sheet.
	The new student gently took the sheet from Foghorn, turned it right side up, and 
handed it back.  He tossed an amused glance at the class.
	“Chad Cheetah,” Foghorn read.  “Take a seat, boy, don’t just stand up here 
staring.  Nice kid, but about as bright as a lightning bug in a mudslide...”
	Chad found an empty desk near the back and settled in, keenly aware of everyone 
watching him.
	“You’ll have to borrow someone’s notes, son,” said Foghorn.  “Can’t go back and 
reteach the whole first semester, now can we?  You gotta keep up, boy, pull your own 
weight.  Any of this gettin’ through to you?”
	Chad suppressed a sigh.  Great.  He didn’t know anybody, and now he had to ask 
favors.  He always hated the first day at a new school.  But whatever didn’t kill him...
	His thoughts were interrupted when a paper airplane made a perfect landing on his 
desk.  Curious, he unfolded it and read.
	“Welcome to the madhouse!  You can borrow my notes if you want.  Buster 
Bunny.”
	Chad glanced around the room and found the blue rabbit, who nodded slightly.
	Chad smiled.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	After class, Buster handed his notebook to Chad and introduced him to Babs, 
Plucky, and Hamton.
	“What’s your next class?” Babs asked.
	“Um...”  He pulled his schedule from his pocket.  “Spin Changes Workshop.”
	“I’m in that one, too,” said Babs.  “I’ll walk with you.”
	The first bell rang.  “See you guys at lunch,” Buster called.
	“Did you have this class at your old school?” asked Babs as they headed down the 
hall.
	“Not quite,” said Chad.  “Is it hard?”
	“Not really.  I’ll show you.”  Babs did a quick spin and reappeared in a Jessica 
Rabbit-style sequined dress.  “‘I’m not bad,’” she purred, “‘I’m just drawn that way.’”
	He chuckled.  “Pretty good.”
	She spun back into her regular outfit.  “That’s the first time a guy hasn’t done a 
wild take at that.”
	“Well, I don’t have much practice with those, either.  But if I did, it would have 
been worthy of one.”
	Babs smiled.  “You’re a fast learner.  Come on--we’ll be late.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Chad dipped a finger into the unidentifiable mass on his lunch tray.  “What *is* 
this?”
	“Let’s see,” said Plucky, behind him in line.  “This is Tuesday, so it must be...”  
He held out his tray and watched the scoop of glop splatter onto his plate.  “Your guess is 
as good as mine,” he finished.
	“Rule number one,” said Babs, passing by them.  “Bring your lunch.”
	“Somehow I’m not hungry.”  Chad set his tray down at Buster and Plucky’s table.
	“This calls for a stop at Weenieburger,” said Buster.  He turned to Babs, who was 
on her way to the girls’ table.  “Hey, Babsy, you up for it?”
	“You mean you want me to go eat greasy, deep-fried, fattening semi-meat 
products and ruin my girlish figure?”  She paused.  “You buying?”
	“Sure.  I’ll meet you there after class.”  He turned to Chad.  “Want to come?”
	Chad poked his lunch and watched it respond to the stimulus.  “I *think* I’ll have 
my appetite back by then.”
	“Look on the bright side,” said Babs.  “You’ve only been here one day, and 
you’ve already got a science project.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Weenieburger was filled with the usual after-school crowd: Elmyra ordering a 
Happy Baby Puppy Face Meal, Hamton and Fifi sharing a sundae.  Buster got his order 
and slipped into the booth next to Babs.  Plucky and Chad sat on the opposite side.
	“So tell us, honestly, what do you think of Acme Loo?” Buster asked.
	“Honestly?” Chad swirled a french fry in ketchup.  “Bizarre.”
	“Catches on quick, doesn’t he?” Plucky took a sip of his milkshake.
	“By the way...” Chad reached into his backpack and handed Buster’s notebook 
back to him.  “I finished copying them in study hall.”
	“You could have borrowed my notes,” said Plucky.
	“Maybe he actually wanted to be able to read them,” said Babs.  “Study hall, huh?  
There’s mind rot for you.”
	“I’m still getting the rest of my schedule figured out,” said Chad.  “They just sort 
of threw me into the basics, I guess.”
	“But you’re going to stay in the Spin Changes class, aren’t you?” asked Babs.
	“I guess so.”  He extracted the pickles from his burger, then took a bite and 
chewed thoughtfully.  “I don’t know-- it doesn’t seem like I’m going to get the hang of 
it.”
	“That happens to everybody,” Babs reassured him.  “You just need more practice.  
I can tutor you after school sometimes, if that’d help.”
	“That would be nice,” Chad admitted.
	Plucky looked at Buster and raised an eyebrow.  Buster ignored it.
	“So how’d you learn all that stuff?” Chad asked Babs.
	“Natural talent, I suppose.  I’ve never really had to work at it.”
	“You’re too modest,” said Plucky sarcastically.
	“Look who’s talking,” Babs shot back.
	Plucky slurped the last of his milkshake and picked up his tray.  “I know where 
I’m not wanted.”  He checked his watch.  “And where I am.  Shirl’s waiting for me to 
pick her up-- hot date tonight.”
	“Hot date?” Chad asked when Plucky was gone.
	“That means Shirley zaps him twice instead of just once,” Babs translated.
	“I’d better get going, too,” said Chad.  “The Cartoon History homework’s brutal.”
	The three left together.  “So, like I said,” Babs continued, “stop by some evening, 
and we’ll go through the workbook, and--oh, *great!*”
	“What’s wrong?” asked Buster.
	“I left my Spin Change workbook at Weenieburger.”
	“I’ll go back and get it,” said Chad.
	“But--”
	“It’ll just take a second.”  And he dashed off so fast he practically left his spots 
behind.  In a moment, he was back--and barely out of breath.
	“That was some sprint!” said Buster.
	“That?” Chad grinned.  “That was just stretching my legs.”
	“You know, the track team has their first meeting tomorrow,” said Buster.  “Try 
stretching your legs there, and I bet we’d have a winning team.”
	“My old school didn’t have a track team,” said Chad.  “Sounds like fun.”
	“Plucky and I’ll be on it, too,” said Buster, “so it isn’t like you won’t know 
anybody.  At the gym tomorrow, right after school.”
	“I’ll be there.  See you guys later.”
	“Bye, Chad.”
	Chad paused for a moment on the corner.  The daylight had just barely begun to 
fade, and he stood and watched Buster and Babs walk off together, laughing and talking.
	He allowed himself a very small sigh, then turned to go home.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	As promised, Chad went to the gym the next afternoon.  Much to his dismay, 
Foghorn Leghorn was filling in as track coach this season while Speedy Gonzales was on 
sabbatical.  Considering the Looniversity’s faculty, though, he supposed it could have 
been worse.
	Buster and Plucky did show up, along with Calamity (trying to get in shape to 
catch Little Beeper), Furrball (same, with Sweetie), Montana Max (trying to get in shape 
to run away from Elmyra), Vinnie the Deer, and another newcomer to the school, Russell 
Raccoon.  It was hard to tell, Chad reflected, whether the raccoon’s dark mask was due to 
fur pattern or black eyes from fighting.  He didn’t look like the friendliest character.  Still, 
rumor had it that Russell was quick on the track, even though he looked like he should be 
going out for wrestling instead.
	They filled out the usual forms and took others home, so their first official 
practice was the next day.  They warmed up and went out to the track for a 100-meter 
dash “just to see what we’re working with,” as Foghorn put it.
	They ran in pairs, with Russell and Chad last.  Chad crouched against the starting 
block and leapt into his stride.  He had to admit Russell was good--judging by the others’ 
times, no one else could have kept up with him.  But Chad kept up, and then he did more 
than that.  He crossed the finish with a time of 10.79.  Russell finished at 10.93.
	It felt wonderful to Chad.  The thought of being able to run every day, and 
compete, and test himself... It was exhilarating.  He realized he was grinning and turned 
back to share it with Russell.  The hard glint in the raccoon’s eyes stopped him short.
	From that instant, Chad knew Russell was used to being first, and the next weeks 
confirmed it.  There was never an open rivalry between the two-- Chad didn’t take 
himself seriously enough for that-- but they were the closest competitors on the team.  
Once, as they were practicing a relay, Chad finally put his finger on the difference 
between them: more than anything, he wanted to be part of the team.  Russell wanted to 
be the star.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	“Okay, now you try it.”  Babs sat down on her bed and watched.
	“Um... all right.”  Chad stood up.
	“Cowboy.”
	Chad spun and reappeared in bandanna, chaps, and--he spun again, hastily--the 
hat.  “How’s that, missy?” he asked in his best John Wayne.
	“Hey, I just help with the changes,” said Babs.  “Impressions are extra.  Deep-sea 
diver.”
	Chad spun into a wetsuit, fins, and mask.
	“I take it you can hold your breath a long time?”
	“Oh, yeah.”  He added the tank.  “Why can’t I get everything at once?”
	Babs shrugged.  “I told you.  It takes practice.  Let’s see...”  She flipped through 
the workbook, then looked up when someone knocked on the door.
	Babs opened it to find her little brother, Mortimer.  “What do you want?”
	“Mom wants to know if your boyfriend’s stayin’ for dinner.”
	Chad looked at the floor.
	“He is *not* my boyfriend!” said Babs through her teeth.  “And yes, he’s stay--”
	“No,” said Chad.  “I mean, thanks, but-- I’ve really got to go.  I’ll see you 
tomorrow.”  He slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed out.
	“But...”  Babs turned on Mortimer.  “You little--!”
	Mortimer dashed off.  Babs went back into her room, still wondering exactly what 
had just happened.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Chad peeled off his uniform, making a mental note to wash it soon.  The track 
team had just finished an exhausting practice, and nearly every muscle in his body ached.  
He had just enough energy to drag himself in and out of the showers, then pull on his 
jeans and vest.  Everyone was feeling it-- the regional meet was two weeks away, and 
they had to be ready.  For the first time, Acme Loo had a shot at placing high.
	“It’s going to be a busy couple of weeks around here,” said Plucky.
	“Yeah,” Chad agreed.  “I don’t even know if we’re really ready.”
	“Speak for yourself,” Russell muttered.
	“I mean the spring dance,” said Plucky.  Then, suavely: “It takes a lot of work to 
plan a romantic evening.”
	“You’re taking Shirley?” Buster asked.
	“Of course.”
	“Have you asked her yet?”
	“Well--not yet.  But she can’t resist.  Have you asked Babs yet?”
	“No...”  Buster paused and glanced at Chad.  He *had* been spending a lot of 
time with Babs lately... More time than Buster had, in fact.  She was just helping him 
with the class, but maybe he shouldn’t wait until the last minute to ask her...
	“How about you, Chad?” asked Plucky, pulling on his shirt.  “Asked anybody to 
the dance yet?  New guys get a lot of attention from the gals around here.”
	“Um... No, I haven’t asked anyone yet.”
	“Well, you’d better get going.  All the really good ones’ll be taken.”  Plucky 
picked up his gym bag and went to his locker.
	Chad turned to Buster.  “Is he always like that?”
	“Just when there’s a dance coming up,” Buster sighed.  “So you don’t have 
anybody in mind?”
	“Well--sort of.  One person, I mean.  But--it’s impossible, so... Never mind.”  He 
grabbed his gym bag and walked out.
	“What’s eating him?” asked Plucky.
	“I don’t know,” said Buster.  “But something’s definitely going on here...”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	“Firefighter.”
	Chad spun and reappeared in a police uniform.
	Babs frowned.  “Football player.”
	He spun into goofy pants and golf clubs.
	“Daffy Duck.”
	Chad spun into an Elmer Fudd costume.
	“What’s *with* you today?” Babs burst out finally.
	Chad sighed and sat down.  “I just can’t concentrate, that’s all.”
	“Is it about the meet?  I heard the regionals were coming up.”
	“Sort of.  But--not really.”  He got up and paced the room for a moment.  “Babs... 
We have to talk about something.  I think we know each other well enough that I can tell 
you...”
	Babs swallowed, suddenly nervous.
	“I mean, we’ve been spending a lot of time together.  And--I don’t--I wouldn’t--”  
He sighed and tried again.  “I wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”
	He paced another minute.  “Well, there’s only one way to say it.  And it’s not like 
I’m ashamed of it, but--I just don’t know how--”
	“Out with it.”
	He took a deep breath.  “Babs--I’m gay.”
	Babs blinked.
	“You don’t have to say anything yet,” he added.  “I know it’s kind of out of the 
blue.”
	A long pause.  “Okay,” Babs said finally.
	“Okay?” Chad echoed.  “Is... is that it?”
	“Well... yeah, I guess.”  Babs traced patterns on her bedspread.  “I just didn’t 
know.”
	“You’re the first person I’ve told here.  Not that I told that many people at my 
other school.”  He shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed.  “It creates... problems.”
	“Problems?”
	“Yeah.  That’s the only reason I *didn’t* hate leaving.  I thought I could tell you 
because... well, because I thought you’d understand.  And it gets to the point where you 
feel like you shouldn’t have to hide it, and you want to tell somebody...”  He trailed off.  
“But--well--don’t tell anybody yet, okay?”
	“People might figure it out.”
	“I know.  But at least it’ll buy some more time for people to get to know me.”  He 
offered a hopeful smile.  “It’s harder to hate a minority when it’s looking at you across 
the lunch table, you know?”
	Babs smiled, too.  “Okay, back to work.”  She picked up the workbook.  “Elvis.”
	Chad spun into sideburns and a sequined jumpsuit, then produced a microphone, 
struck a pose, and snapped his fingers to turn on a spotlight.  Another quick spin, and he 
was back to normal.  “How was that?”
	Babs laughed.  “Perfect!”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Buster laid a single red rose and an invitation in Babs’ locker, then closed the 
door.  She’d find it first thing in the morning.  In the meantime...
	“Hey, Buster.”  Chad caught up with him in the hall.  “Practice was cancelled, but 
I thought I’d still go down to the track and put in a few laps.”
	“I’ll go with you,” said Buster.  “Just let me grab my stuff...”  He opened his 
locker and pulled out his backpack.  “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
	Chad’s stomach tightened.  He should have figured Babs would tell him...
	“Listen,” said Buster as they headed to the locker room, “I’m not usually a jealous 
guy or anything...”  He changed into his gym clothes.  “But--I mean, you’ve been 
spending a lot of time with Babs... And we *are* kind of a couple...”
	So she hadn’t told him.  Chad followed Buster out to the track.  “You’ve got 
nothing to worry about,” he said.  “Babs is great, but she’s just a friend.”  And he’d need 
every friend he had, once word got around... But he didn’t say that.
	Buster breathed a mental sigh of relief, then turned a concerned gaze to Chad.  
“You seem kind of down lately... Is anything wrong?”
	“The usual.  Classes, homework, that kind of thing.”
	Buster raised a skeptical eyebrow, then realized what it must be.  “If it’s about not 
having a date for the dance, lots of guys go stag.  Girls too.”
	“I’d have a date,” Chad sighed, “if I were still at my old school.”
	“Oh.  I get it.”  Buster put a hand on Chad’s shoulder sympathetically.  “You miss 
her, huh?”
	“I do miss him.”
	The expected silence.  Buster took his hand away, suddenly self-conscious.
	“It isn’t contagious,” Chad said evenly, and began to walk away.
	“I--I’m sorry.” Buster struggled for words.  “I mean, I didn’t--”
	Chad’s eyes hardened.  “And I don’t think anyone saw us, either, if that’s what 
you’re worried about.”  He stalked off.
	“Hey, come on.”  Buster ran to catch up.  “I didn’t mean it that way.  It was just a 
surprise.”
	Chad stopped.  “I’m sorry,” he said finally.  “I didn’t mean to be that defensive, 
but... I’ve just been on edge lately.  Things don’t feel right around here anymore--it’s like 
something’s waiting to happen.  You keep waiting for people to find out, waiting for 
everything to fall apart.  It’s the suspense that gets you.”  He paused.  “So... you’re okay 
with it?”
	“Well... mostly.  It *was* a surprise,” Buster admitted.  “But you’re still the same 
guy you were five minutes ago.  And you still look like a guy who could use a friend.”
	Chad nodded.
	“Come on,” said Buster.  “Once around--I’ll race you.”
	Russell approached them from the bleachers, where he’d been warming up.  “Is 
this a private party, or can anyone join in?”
	Chad suddenly wondered how close Russell had been.  How much had he heard?  
Then, as they crouched to start, Russell caught Chad’s eye, and he knew the answer.
	Everything.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Chad tried to avoid Russell, but it wasn’t always possible.  Besides being on the 
track team, Russell was also in Chad’s morning class with Foghorn.  And then there was 
lunch, and between classes, and before and after school...
	It started with cutting remarks--the kind of double entendres no one could object 
to.  Just reminding Chad that he knew.  Mostly, though, it was the suspense.  Chad knew 
Russell was going to do something, but he couldn’t predict what or when.
	Chad sat at his desk, bored to the point of being half-asleep.  Foghorn had gone on 
for half an hour with a lecture no one understood, and now he was giving them the rest of 
the class to work on their homework assignment.
	A paper airplane skidded across his desk.  A note from Buster?  Chad opened it 
eagerly, then held back a wave of disgust.  The note detailed, in no uncertain terms, what 
someone thought he was doing--or wanted to do--with Buster.  Neither of which was true.
	Chad crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash can by Foghorn’s desk.  He 
glanced at the class on the way back to his desk.  Everyone was hunched over their desks, 
studying away.  It didn’t matter.  There was only one possible suspect, anyway.
	Chad sat back down and tried to focus on the reading assignment, but his mind 
kept wandering.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning...

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	“So you’ve heard,” said Plucky.
	Buster took the perfumed note from his locker--it bore one word: “Yes”--and 
slipped it into one of his books.  “He told me.”
	“Do you think it’s a good idea for you to be--you know--around him?”
	“What do you mean?”
	“I mean... Don’t get me wrong, he’s an okay guy, but people talk.  They might get 
the wrong idea.”
	“I imagine Babs would set them straight,” said Buster, amused.  “I take it you’re 
not coming to practice with us in the park?”
	“I can’t afford for people to think--you know.”
	“I know,” Buster said tightly.
	“Look, I don’t mean it that way--”
	“It’s your decision, Plucky.”  Buster shut his locker.  “Are you coming or not?”
	“Well--I--”  Plucky saw Chad approaching.  “I’ll see you later.”
	Chad watched him head down the hall.  “Plucky isn’t coming?”
	“No,” Buster sighed.  “He... had other plans.”
	“You don’t have to make excuses for him,” said Chad.  “It’s okay.  I understand.  
Come on, let’s get going.”
	They kept an even pace through the park, running on trails that meandered 
through manicured grass and past benches, trees, and small playgrounds.
	“I’m kind of surprised you still came,” said Chad.  “I wouldn’t have blamed you if 
you didn’t.  Like I said, I understand.”
	“What’s to worry about?  Let ‘em talk.  They’ll forget about it pretty soon 
anyway.”
	“I don’t know.  I got a note today that wasn’t very pleasant.  I don’t want to go 
into the details, but... it mentioned you, too.”
	“The people who know me will know the truth,” said Buster.  “Besides, I don’t 
walk away from my friends.”
	“Thanks,” said Chad.  “I just hope you won’t regret that...”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Chad sneaked another glance at the clock.  Still twenty-three minutes left to go.  
He tried to concentrate on Bugs’ Spin Changes lecture, but he was too edgy to pay much 
attention.  Just two more classes to go, and no practice today, so he could go home 
sooner.  Maybe even relax...
	“Enough talkin’,” said Bugs.  “Let’s try a few of these out.  Now, guys, remember 
what I said--nothin’s better than a dress for fooling the hunters.”  He spun and reappeared 
in one of his classic ensembles, complete with wig, lipstick, and high heels.  “Just like 
that,” he said once he’d spun back to normal.  “Eh--of course, not everyone can wear 
those colors.”  The class chuckled.  “Okay, then, let’s see... Chad, why don’t you try it?”
	Chad swallowed hard.  “But--I--”
	“I know you’re still learnin’, but it’s not that hard.  Go ahead.”
	Chad stood, his face burning.  Whispers and snickers filled the room.
	“Settle down, class,” Bugs warned.  “Chad?”
	Babs radiated sympathy, but everyone else in the class kept murmuring comments 
and making cracks until the snickering turned to low but outright laughter.
	Chad reached his limit.  Eyes dark with anger and humiliation, he strode out of the 
room.
	“Chad...”  Babs followed him out into the hall.  “I’m sorry.  It... They’re all 
stupid.  They don’t understand.”
	He stopped at his locker, yanked it open, and stared into the darkness for a 
moment.  “I like it here,” he said finally.  “I want to belong here.  To be able to stay 
here...”  He sighed.  “I’m tired of moving... I’m tired of trying.  I wish I could be...”
	“What?” asked Babs softly.
	“Like everybody else!”  He threw his books down.  “I didn’t choose this!  If they 
knew--if *anybody* knew--how much I wish...”  He shook his head and picked up his 
books.  “Maybe it is a choice for some people.  I don’t know.  But it isn’t one for me.”  
He shoved the books inside, then held out his empty hands.  “I can’t change it, any more 
than I could change my spots....  But nobody wants to listen.”
	“I do,” said Babs.  “You can’t let them do this to you.  No one should have to 
change to fit in. Especially not here,” she added wryly.
	“I know.  It just... It gets so hard to remember sometimes.”
	For once, Babs couldn’t find anything else to say.
	Chad slammed his locker shut.  “I’ll see you later.”
	“What about class?  You can’t just--”
	“I don’t care.  Tell them I’m sick.”  His voice wavered slightly.  “It’s what they all 
think, anyway.”
	Babs stood in the empty hallway until she heard the main door open and shut.  
The echo resonated in the silence... a very final, very chilling sound.  Babs held back a 
shudder, then turned and walked slowly back to class.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	When Chad got to school the next morning, he found a small crowd gathered 
around his locker, toons who fell silent and moved away as he walked up.  As they left, 
he saw what they’d been looking at: a single word, spray-painted in red on his locker 
door.
	Chad stared at it for several moments, too numb to feel anything, not even anger.
He kept thinking maybe someday he’d get used to the words, all of them.  At the same 
time, he knew he never would.  This three-letter one still stung worst of all.
	One thing was for sure, though.  He couldn’t keep changing schools, couldn’t 
keep moving.  Fast as he was, he couldn’t run away from this anymore.  After a moment, 
he felt a hand on his arm and turned.
	“We didn’t tell anybody--” said Babs.
	“I know you didn’t,” Chad interrupted her.  “Word just gets out.  It always has.  
You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
	“You mean it’s happened before?” asked Buster.
	“More than this.  That’s why we moved.  My parents thought maybe a new 
school, different people, maybe it wouldn’t be like last time.”
	“What happened last time?” asked Buster.
	“I started getting threats.  I mean, big time.  There were people who didn’t want 
me around, and if that meant...”  He closed his eyes briefly.  “If that meant seeing me 
dead, they were prepared to do it.”
	“Why would anybody...” Babs was unable to finish the thought.
	“I don’t know. They’re scared, they’re ignorant, they’ve had hate taught to them... 
I don’t make excuses for them anymore.”
	The bell rang then, and the others scattered to their classes.  Chad didn’t move.  
He’d kept hoping it wouldn’t happen here, that it’d be different...  He kept staring dully at 
the paint, the angry red scrawl, thinking maybe it wasn’t entirely real, maybe it’d 
disappear.  And knowing it wouldn’t.
	“Doing a little redecorating, kiddo?”
	Chad turned to see Bugs approaching.  “Hardly.  Sir.”  He paused.  “About 
yesterday--it won’t happen again.”
	Bugs laid a hand on Chad’s shoulder.  “I do plan on findin’ out who did this.”
	“It won’t do any good.”
	Bugs looked at the locker for a few moments, then opened a supply closet and 
pulled out a can of paint.  “Maybe this will.”  He held out a brush.  “It may not make it go 
away, but you gotta start somewhere.”
	Chad nodded, then took the brush and dipped it into the paint.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	“He’s going to give the whole team a bad name,” said Russell, pulling on his track 
uniform.  “You can’t keep something like that quiet.”
	*Not if you spray paint it on his locker,* Buster thought.  “What difference does it 
make?” he asked out loud.
	“Plenty, in here,” said Plucky.  “We’ve all undressed in front of him.  We can’t do 
that now.”
	“The duck’s got a point,” said Monty.  “What if he starts making passes at 
*me*?”
	“Somehow, Monty,” Buster said dryly, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about 
that.”
	“All I’m saying,” said Russell, “is that he doesn’t belong here.  And I plan on 
telling that to the coach.”
	“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Plucky.
	“Of course I’m sure.”
	“But the regionals--”  Plucky stopped as Chad walked in.
	Chad felt the sudden silence but tried to ignore it.  “Hi, guys.  Last practice before 
the big day...”
	No response.  He gave up, changed clothes, and went out to the track.  He 
belonged here, no question.  Everything about running was right for him--the way the 
surface gave slightly under his feet, the feeling of his heart pounding with exertion and 
adrenaline, the whistling, then roaring of the wind in his ears, blotting everything else 
out... Out here, he could be himself.  Here, at least, was something about himself he 
didn’t feel he had to hide.  He leapt hurdles with smooth ease, a simple flex of muscle, a 
singular concentration.  They could ignore him, taunt him, threaten him, but they couldn’t 
deny that could run, and run well.
	If practice was uncomfortable, the atmosphere in the locker room afterward was 
even worse.  The others went into the showers silently, but when Chad approached, 
Russell barred the way.
	“Maybe you’d better try the girls’ locker room,” the raccoon said.
	Chad glared at him but said nothing.  After a moment, Russell went inside, and 
Chad followed.  He took his place at one of the showers and told himself to act normal.  
*Normal,* he thought bitterly.  *What’s that word supposed to mean, anyway?*
	The room was silent except for the splashing of water on tile.  Chad finished and 
toweled off, conscious of everyone watching him.  Waiting for him to do--what?
	“Look, I’m not window shopping!” Chad burst out.  “And I’m not 
recruiting, either.  I’m still the same guy, okay?”
	Silence.  Even Calamity held up a blank sign.
	Chad growled very softly in his throat and walked out.
	Buster put on his shirt and found Chad in the locker room a few minutes later.  
“Actually,” he said wryly, “the term would be ‘comparison shopping,’ wouldn’t it?”
	Chad stuffed his uniform into his gym bag.
	“Um...” Buster hesitated, wishing he had something else to say.  “Coach wants to 
see you.”
	Chad nodded, picked up his bag, and left.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	“Look, son,” said Foghorn,  “the boys are a mite--uncomfortable--with you being 
in the locker room with them when they’re in the, ah, altogether.  Naked, that is.  
Showers, dressing--you following me, boy?”
	Chad frowned.  “I think so.”
	“It might be, ah, better for all concerned--the team morale, that is--if you were 
to... I say, if you would consider...”
	“Quitting the team,” Chad finished.
	“Where I come from, we call it ‘early retirement.’  Just think, I say, just think 
about it.  A team has to be a unit, a well-oiled machine.”
	“I’ll think about it,” Chad replied tightly.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Buster and Babs caught up with Chad as he headed down the Looniversity steps.  
“So what was Foggy blowing hot air about?” Buster asked.
	Chad’s eyes blazed.  “It’s been... suggested... that I quit the team.”
	“Suggested?” Babs echoed.
	“Yeah.  In other words, they can’t kick me off, but they can push me until I quit.”
	“But the regionals are tomorrow!” said Buster.
	“I know.”
	“What are you going to do?” asked Babs.
	“I’m staying in,” he said firmly.  “They can’t push me that far.”
	“That’s the spirit,” said Buster.  “See you tomorrow morning.”
	When they reached the bottom of the steps, Buster and Babs headed for their 
homes; Chad turned in the opposite direction.  He wanted to get in a little more practice 
before the next day, to keep his stamina.  He decided on the shortcut behind the 
bleachers, heading past the track and towards the Acme Park, the same way he and Buster 
had gone that day.
	“Where do you think you’re going?”
	Chad turned.  Russell Raccoon stood with three other toons on the nearby track.  
After a tense moment of silence, Russell approached.
	Chad’s instincts told him to run, but his pride kept him still.  “Is that any of your 
business?”
	Russell shoved him, pushing him to the ground and knocking the breath from his 
lungs.  Four against one--there wasn’t a chance.
	“Listen, you little faggot,” Russell hissed into Chad’s ear.  “We don’t want you 
here, and since you can’t seem to take a hint, we’re going to have to show you what we 
mean.”
	Chad lost track of the taunts after awhile, and eventually one ache, one stab of 
pain blended into the next.  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, determined not to 
show the pain, not to encourage them.  Fighting back would only make it worse.  
Blacking out would let them do whatever they wanted to.  And above all, he couldn’t let 
them see him cry, not even when he bit his lip so hard it bled.
	Silence came at last, and he realized dimly that they were gone.  He sat up 
gingerly.  The last few blows had struck his head, and the world spun dizzily for a few 
moments.  He took deep, slow breaths, testing the pain and fighting off a wave of nausea.  
Bruises he could handle, as long as he could still run the next day.
	“Chad?”
	Chad blinked and focused; it was Bugs, reaching out a hand.  Chad took it and 
slowly pulled himself up.  His clothes and fur were coated with mud.
	“Who did this?” Bugs asked.
	Chad shook his head.
	“Chad--”
	“If I say anything, it’ll just get worse.  Not yet,” he said.  “Maybe after tomorrow, 
but not yet.”
	“You can’t let them get away with--”
	“Forget it.”  Chad kept his eyes low, but Bugs still saw the tears forming.  “Just 
forget it.  Leave me alone.  It’s safer that way for everybody.”
	Bugs watched Chad walk away, then swore softly.  When he found out who those 
boys were... He wasn’t the principal for nothing.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Word had spread around Acme Acres that the Loo had a track team with serious 
potential this year.  Early Saturday morning, toons crowded the bleachers around the 
track, ready to cheer for Acme Loo, Perfecto, or the other regional schools competing in 
the meet.  To the track team, it was just nice to have people in the bleachers who weren’t 
related to them...
	“I heard about what happened,” Buster said quietly to Chad as they warmed up.  
“How are you doing?”
	Chad stretched slowly.  “A little sore, but I’ll be fine.”  He smiled.  “Still in one 
piece, anyway.”
	“Why didn’t you tell Bugs who it was?”
	“You heard that, too?”  He sighed.  “I might.  But it makes things even harder 
once they know you’ve told...  Forget about it.  Right now, we’ve got races to run, and 
that’s what’s important.”  He headed for the track.
	“It’s important to me if one of my friends gets jumped by four guys on school 
grounds,” said Buster.
	Chad looked back at Buster but said nothing more, and they went to prepare for 
the first event.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	The first event of the meet was the 100-meter dash, the same race Chad had 
run at the first practice.  He remembered how it had felt, the first sweet rush from testing 
his abilities against competitors.  One thing was the same as that first time: he was 
running against Russell again.  And he had a feeling that the raccoon’s attitude toward 
winning was the same as it had been that day.
	Chad stood poised against the starting block, muscles tensed and focused forward.  
Waiting.
	The instant the start was sounded, he was off, running as was his nature and his 
talent, in a smooth, even stride that easily carried him ahead of half the runners.  He 
pushed farther, coaxing more speed even as his body protested, keeping his eyes focused 
on the finish line ahead--and then he was across it, and as he caught his breath, he 
realized he’d won.  
	Russell came in fourth.
	Chad picked up a cup of water from the table by the bleachers and took a few 
slow sips.  His ribs were aching, forcing him to wonder if his injuries didn’t include more 
than just a few bruises.  He tossed the cup and headed back--and tripped, falling forward 
onto the ground.
	“Better watch your step,” said Russell, and he walked away.
	Chad glared at him and stood.  It was going to take a lot more than that to put him 
out of the race.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	Russell was slated to anchor the 800-meter relay later that morning, but Foghorn 
caught up with him on the sidelines.
	“I wouldn’t-- I say, I wouldn’t call tripping a teammate very sportsmanlike, son.”
	“That was an accident!”  Russell protested.
	“Could be.  But why--I say, why don’t you try sittin’ this one out.  Give you some 
time to think about it.”  And he put Chad running the fourth leg, after Plucky, Calamity, 
and Buster.
	The relay competition had always been tough, and it had always been Acme Loo’s 
weakness at meets.  Buster brightened when he heard Chad’s name announced as a 
substitute.  Maybe...
	Plucky started off well, until the local newspaper started snapping action shots, 
and Plucky decided to stop and pose for one.  Calamity picked up the slack, especially 
when Little Beeper appeared alongside the track.  Then the baton was in Buster’s palm, 
and he took off at his best speed.  Everything was going fairly well, until about halfway 
through Buster’s leg of the race...
	Buster never knew quite what it was--some loose stone, an uneven spot on the 
track--but he suddenly stumbled, and it took him a few seconds to recover his stride.  But 
he didn’t have time for disappointment.  He surged forward, making up what time he 
could, then slapped the baton into Chad’s hand.
	Chad took off, and Buster watched, trying not to hope.  The other teams were 
already ahead; his stumble had cost them first place and probably second and third as 
well.  But if Chad could close the gap, maybe they could pull off fourth...
	Chad’s perception--his very world--narrowed to the track, the runner beside him, 
and the alternating rhythm of heartbeat and breath.  They couldn’t win, but it didn’t 
matter.  The team was depending on him.
	Buster squinted into the sunlight... Was he fourth?  No, third... and still picking up 
speed.  He was close to the runner in second, but the finish was coming up fast--and he 
watched Chad pull ahead and cross the line at second.
	“Second!  That’s the best we’ve ever placed in the relay,” said Plucky.
	Buster smiled.  “I guess we make a pretty good team.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	The final event of the meet was the 300-meter intermediate hurdles.  Chad 
stretched and checked out the competition.  There was a mallard from Perfecto, a skunk 
from the school near the county line... and Russell, also running for the Looniversity.  
This, Chad thought as the starting pistol fired, was going to be interesting.
	Chad worked into a rhythm quickly, spacing his stride to suit the hurdles.  He lost 
a little ground near the beginning, but once he focused, he pulled ahead of the others.  
The skunk and mallard were soon left behind, but Russell stayed with him.
	“Right behind you,” said Russell.  “But that’s what you like, isn’t it?”
	Chad ignored him, focusing on the track.
	“Better pick up the pace, pussy.  No fag beats me twice.”  They were side-by-side 
now.  Chad kept all emotion from his face.  He couldn’t break his concentration now, not 
with the end so near.
	“You know” --the raccoon was panting as he leapt-- “I hear Babs gets--pretty 
jealous.  Does she know-- you’re getting a little-- cottontail on the side?”
	Chad’s temper flared, but he channeled all of his anger into the last part of the run, 
muscles pumping and finish line in sight.  He wasn’t going to feel dirty, not about who he 
was.  And certainly not about his friendship with Buster.  Ignorance wouldn’t taint that 
for him, ever--and ignorance wasn’t going to take this moment away from him, this 
moment when he could push himself farther than ever before, when he could have 
everything he’d trained for, hoped for...
	He strained his muscles just a little farther, each breath burning in his chest.  
Another second-- and it was over.  They’d been so close, he didn’t know what had 
happened until he heard his name announced and his team congratulating him.  And even 
then, he didn’t entirely believe it.
	“Chad!”  Buster was grinning at the scoreboard.  “Did you see?”
	“See what?” Chad panted.
	“The record!  The school record--you just broke it!”
	“*What?*”  He squinted at the scoreboard.  Reality dawned.  “I--I did...!”
	“By eight-tenths of a second!”  Plucky chimed in.  “That was amazing!”
	An Acme Gazette reporter squeezed in.  “Look this way--there you go.  One, two, 
three...”  The camera snapped, the flash dazzling Chad.  “Great job, kid!  Front page 
tomorrow.”
	Chad shook his head.  “I--I don’t know about all this...”
	“You deserve it,” said Buster.  “Just like anyone else.”
	“Just like anyone else...”  Chad smiled slowly.  “How about a celebration at 
Weenieburger--my treat!”  He looked to Plucky and hesitated.  “Um-- nobody has to 
come if they don’t want to.”
	“Why wouldn’t we?” Plucky replied.  “We’re a team, aren’t we?”  He paused 
awkwardly.  “Ah... about earlier, I...”
	“We’re a team,” said Chad.  “Don’t worry about it.”
	“Good job, all of you.”  Bugs stepped over to them.  “What are you guys going to 
do next?”
	“We’re going to--Weenieburger!” the team chorused.
	Bugs looked heavenward.  “Why did I see that coming?”  He gave the team a 
once-over and saw Russell scowling on the sidelines.  Two and two added up very 
quickly.
	“Eh, what about you, Russell?” Bugs asked.  “Aren’t you coming?”
	He muttered something unintelligible.  Bugs looked at Chad, who nodded very 
slightly.
	Bugs placed his hand firmly on the raccoon’s shoulder.  “Since you seem to be 
free, I think you and me should have a little talk...”  He led Russell into the building.
	As Chad accepted congratulations from the team, as he listened to the cheers and 
whistles from the crowd, as the trophy was placed in his hands and more pictures snapped 
around him, he realized-- 
	For once, the cheering was louder than the taunts.  For once, he was a runner.  An 
athlete.  Part of the team.
	And nothing else mattered.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

	“So you finally learned to dance,” said Babs, sharing a slow song with Buster as 
the lights went down in the Acme Loo gym.
	“You’re worth it,” Buster replied.  He looked around the gym and sighed happily.  
The team had placed well in the meet and would be advancing to the state finals for the 
first time...  Spring break was starting...  Babs looked more beautiful than ever tonight 
and was wearing an intoxicating perfume...  In short, life was very, very good.
	Babs frowned suddenly.  “Why do I smell burnt feathers?”
	Buster looked over her shoulder and laughed.  “I think Plucky just asked Shirley 
to slow-dance.”
	The song ended, and the two left the dance floor, joining Plucky and Shirley by 
the refreshments.
	“So where’s our Olympian?” asked Plucky.
	“I don’t know if he’ll show up,” said Buster.  “Even after this morning... It won’t 
be easy for him.”
	“I hear Bugs suspended Russell for three days,” said Plucky.  “That’ll put him off 
the team for sure.”
	“But after the three days, he’ll be back,” said Babs.  “What happens then?”
	Buster glanced at the door.  “I guess we’ll just have to see...”
	Chad and his date stepped into the gym, and everything went strangely quiet.  
Standing at his side was a gray fox dressed in black jeans and a dark blue jacket.
	Buster approached the two.  “Glad you made it.”
	“Buster,” said Chad, “this is Gary, from my old school.  He managed to make it in 
for spring break.”
	“Nice to meet you.”  Buster clasped hands with the fox, then glanced back at the 
refreshment table.  “Looks like Dizzy’s already gotten to the punch bowl.  If you guys 
want something to eat, you’d better get it now.”  The band began to play another song, 
and Buster glanced at Babs waiting by the dance floor.  “If you’ll excuse me...”
	Chad took a deep breath and looked around, taking everything in.  The couples 
had all gone back to dancing, each pair gently wrapped in their own romantic world.  No 
one was even looking their way.  Maybe there’d never be full acceptance, not from 
everyone, but tonight was a start.  And for him, for now, it was enough.
	“Would you like to dance?” Gary asked softly.
	Chad managed a nervous chuckle.  “I don’t think they’re ready for that.  Maybe 
some other time.”
	“Yeah... some other time.”  He sighed somewhat wistfully, then frowned.  “Um... 
Chad?”
	“Yeah?”
	“Who’s the purple skunk that keeps making eyes at me?”
	Chad laughed and led Gary to the refreshments.  “Welcome to Acme Loo.”


					*****
This story is dedicated to all those, gay and straight, who fight daily battles for tolerance. 
It is worth reaching for.
					*****

All Looney Tunes and Tiny Toon Adventures characters are copyright Warner Bros., 
Inc., used here without permission.  Chad Cheetah, Russell Raccoon, and Gary Fox are 
the author’s original creations and may not be used in any manner without the author’s 
consent.

To any readers who are or were on a high school track team:  I’m one of the most 
unathletic people that have ever existed, so I had to rely on admittedly shallow research 
and/or take dramatic license with some elements.  Please forgive me any major errors 
that appear in this story.

c. March 1999, Renee Carter Hall