Tinny's Summer Adventures – Part 7 (chapters 30-34)

I don't like secrets. I know there are kids that love `em, but I'm not one of them. I don't even like mystery books: all the same, everything is revealed in the end. And I usually look at the last pages if I come across a mystery novel. And reading after that becomes uninteresting.

But if mystery books I just dislike, dragging around secrets within myself I downright hate. Having secrets gives a person a shade of reserve, insincerity. For example, when I'm walking with Maya down the street, and we are talking frankly about this and that, and at the same time I'm hiding something from her. It is inconvenient and unpleasant. Because Maya is very understanding. Hiding such a thing from her is generally wrong.

When I'm walking with Maya down the street, the street is different, not as it is always. Perhaps, because when I walk with Maya down the street it's usually in good weather, and during bad weather we sit at home. Also, it's because everyone looks at Maya, because she is so beautiful, and everyone end up looking at me as well, as we are walking together... We become the center of attention, and I feel a special responsibility: some impudent rude bastard can pick on her in the street, and not even feel bad about it... I don't know... The fact remains, that when I walk with Maya, the street is sunnier, the people are friendlier, everyone is somehow more cheerful and smiley. When we're walking in the street, we play this one game: we find ridiculous signs. For example, this shop: "Recreational Goods". What the heck is that all about? Are the goods re–creating? Are the goods in other shops only for work? And can goods be recreational at all?.. Or this sign: "Unisex Clothing". When I was younger, I always thought, that it means clothes for having sex in: u–n–i–sex, you and I sex. But then I found out that it just means the clothes are the same for men and women, ridiculously enough.

We were walking to Mrs. Petters, we were sent to her by the chief engineer. Our practice was nearing it's end, and he asked us to go and ask her to come to the truck depot "to discuss some issues". What issues he wants to discuss with our homeroom teacher, he didn't say. Also, why he simply didn't call her, I don't know. Maya was charged transferring his request to Mrs. Petters. I offered to go with Maya.

Mrs. Petters lived on the very end of our street, and our street is one of the longest in town, maybe even the longest. A special bus route goes along it from end to the end, from the train station to the new outskirts of town, along the suburb.

Mrs. Petters, like us, lives in a new building block. But we moved here from other parts of town, and Mrs. Petters lived here before, in a hamlet that used to be here before the city swallowed it, and she even taught in the local tiny little school that used to be here before our school was constructed.

All of this seemed very significant to Maya. That there is no more hamlet, where Mrs. Petters used to live, her house is gone, and her school, but Mrs. Natalie Petters is still around, lives here and still teaches. Only she lives in a new house and teaches at a new school.

"Think about it – everything that was around her is gone, and she remained. You have to agree that there is something special in this," – said Maya.

To tell the truth, I did not see anything special in all of this. The old houses and the old school were razed to construct bigger, newer ones in their place. Of course the people remained. Where would they go? But Maya can find the deepest sense in the most insignificant things. As for me, I don't really like philosophy – I get headaches from it. But I don't mind if Maya philosophizes, it doesn't bother me. I mumbled something approving as an answer.

"Imagine this," – continued Maya, – "In many years all of this will be gone," – she gestured around the street, – "and there will be something else altogether. New people will come and live here. And only we will remain from those far away times."

"But these buildings are brand new, they'll be here for a long while," – I objected, referring to our neighborhood.

"Yeah, I know... And that makes it even more exciting to thing that Mrs. Petters' life changed so dramatically right in front of her eyes."

"When she was young, there were little wooden houses here," – I said, – "They could be removed in no time. And now there are big concrete buildings. How will they take `em down?"

"Yeah, I know, I not talking about these houses specifically. I'm talking about the philosophical side of the issue."

I agreed, that from the philosophical side this is correct. But as I did not want any more philosophy, my head was already starting to buzz from it, I changed the subject:

There was a new, seemingly large and fancy, cinema house being built at the shopping center adjacent to the local train station.

It was pleasant to me that Maya reacts to new things. Other girls might not even notice it, but she reacts. I also react. It is pleasant to me when something is being built. I don't know why, but it is. A new house, a new building block, a new shop, a new road, a new train station, a new bus line. I might not live in this new house. Perhaps, I will purchase nothing in this new shop. But the fact that they're new, that they weren't there before, and now they are, gives me pleasure. And to Maya as well. And so what if she philosophizes a bit from time to time, I'm not bothered.

The cinema being built, however, diverted my thoughts to a different direction. I took a few silent moments, gathering up some courage, and then said:

"You know the cinema in town?.. Well, I looked at their roster when I was in town with Peter, and, uumm..." – I swallowed hard and continued: – "They have a couple of interesting movies playing, maybe you want to go sometime, check one out?.."

Mrs. Natalie Petters sat at a table grading papers. She teaches literature at night school for young workers.

Maya visited Mrs. Petters' house before. And I didn't. I just never needed to. But I was at the home of some other teachers from school. And now, at Mrs. Petters', I felt the same as I felt when I visited them. At home a teacher seems to be totally different, not like a teacher at all, but like an ordinary person. It's even somewhat strange to see a teacher in a home setting, surrounded by such everyday objects: a cupboard, a dining room table, ornate chairs, an old sofa...

It's strange and a little sad. Perhaps, because all of these things are old, just as Mrs. Petters is. In our building the tenants, while moving in, try to make the move with all new furniture. But at Mrs. Petters' apartment everything was old, old–fashioned, probably it all remained from the times when this was just a village.

We told Mrs. Petters how well the restoration of our truck is going, and how hotly everyone participates in it. Mrs. Petters was very much delighted to hear it and began to treat us with tea. And, while we drank tea with caramels, which I love more than any other candy or chocolates, all the setting here suddenly seemed much more cozy to me than I thought at first. Mrs. Petters sat right there with us. Maya and I were a tad hungry from the walk, so we ate almost an entire box of rye cookies. I, by the way, love those cookies just as much as the caramels.

"Steven, what was that statement which you submitted to the manager?" – Mrs. Petters asked.

I told her what it was about. Maya looked at me with surprise. She didn't know anything about this. I could see that it was pleasant for her that I strived for justice.

"Yes, Bud Zephron," – Mrs. Petters sighed, – "You know that he was once in my homeroom class."

We understood that Bud Zephron was once a schoolboy, but it was very difficult to imagine it. Such an older, unshaven person studied with the same teacher with whom we now study.

"You know he lost his family," – Mrs. Petters said sadly. – "Ten years ago. His wife had a car crash, their two boys were with her, and both died. And his wife became really ill after that, she is still in the hospital."

And from the way Mrs. Petters said it, we understood that Bud's wife is in a mental hospital. Small wonder, really; that she lost her mind when both her boys were killed. I don't understand why are people hesitant to speak about this stuff directly. After all, there is nothing shameful in it.

"Yes," – Mrs. Petters confirmed, – "Mr. Collins is retiring next year, and, apparently, Bud will be offered the job."

Mr. Collins is our shop master. I was very pleased that Bud is going to work at our school. The most important thing is that he is good with kids.

After what Mrs. Petters told us about Bud's family, I thought it even more unfair about how he was treated at the depot, and noticed:

"He won't get anything out of this practice," – Mrs. Petters sadly continued, – "He should have been assigned to a shop. From all the different kinds of work at the depot he managed to get the one which he shouldn't had gotten. I wasn't paying attention. But the rest of you kids are also guilty. You should have pulled him into some real work, given him a taste of it. You guys don't include him."

Well, that's just great! So again we are guilty! We brought him up wrong... She should try influencing that asshole sometimes!

"Whatever the rest of us kids do with him or not, people should be responsible for themselves."

Then they started talking about the educational strength of the collective. Mrs. Petters gave Maya all kinds of examples to prove her point. The examples themselves were convincing enough. But, as soon as I mentally applied them to Ian, they became unpersuasive right away. But I was silent. If I begin to argue about Ian I can accidentally blab out the secret. And after all I promised not to talk about it with anyone.

I, of course, intended to keep this secret, even though I don't like secrets. But, on the way back from Mrs. Petters' house, Maya guided me to this conversation herself. She said that during our work time at the depot we came to know each other better than we did at school. And that it supposedly revealed each and one of our real characters, when we were faced with a real life situation like this.

I thought that it is a good point, but too generalized. We knew each other well from school too. It's just that while working, the character of each of us became clearer, more definite.

"Take Ian as an example," – I said, – "Did we not know what he is and how he behaves before?"

"Not only with the parts and with Vern," – I said, restraining as much as I could.

But Maya always guesses, how I am silent: significantly or not. She interrogatively looked at me. I had no place to disappear. And I told Maya the whole story with the shock-absorbers. After all, she is good at finding solutions in these kinds of situations.

To my surprise, my story did not make the impression that I expected on her. She listened to me a little mistrustfully, even a bit ironically. As one listens to a child. Because girls are convinced that boys are inclined to secrets and mystery.

Actually girls are much more inclined to secrets and mystery. But their secrets are about trifles. Someone has fallen in love with someone... Someone has written something to someone... Someone went somewhere with someone... Girls, for the most part, can't really estimate a difficult phenomenon where one needs iron logic. Their minds work differently: the more insignificant is the fact of the mystery, the more considerably their imagination fills in about what it might be. But if the fact in itself is considerable enough, it doesn't leave a place for their imagination to make a story around it, and they lose interest.

"I also think so!" – I exclaimed. – "But the other guys told me that it's dangerous! You know what, the hell with them. Let's gather up at your place tonight and bring Ian along."

"Lets!.. Oh wait," - suddenly said Maya and looked at me with a smirk again, - "We agreed that we'd go see a movie tonight."

Damn! How could I forget my first real date with a girl that I've had a crush on for goodness knows how long! But we both knew that we must get to the bottom of this. I bravely stated:

"I have a better idea. My parents aren't home, so why don't we go straight to my place after work, and watch a movie on TV, I think "Breakfast at Tiffany's" is on at four. And then we'll call the guys over later, what do you say?.."

My stomach suddenly felt hollow through and through, and even though my mind was falling into a terrified (yet joyful) precipice, I managed to calmly, as if nothing extraordinary was happening, say:

We went straight to Maya's after work finished at the Depot. On the way we made a detour through my house, where I left a note to my parents. When coming back downstairs we ran into Matty, who was returning from a ball game with the boys in the yard, all sweaty, red in the face and happy. He smiled at us, and said:

"Hello, Maya," – said Matt, having looked at her with his clear gaze. Then he raised his eyebrows in my direction, with a definite question. I ruffled his hair again and said:

"He's the neighbor's kid." – I explained. – "I watch him sometimes. He's a sweet boy, but really shy. It's good that he's coming out of his shell a bit."

Maya said nothing, but suddenly took hold of my hand. My cheeks immediately turned red and my heart quickened. And so, hand in hand, we walked two blocks until we got to Maya's building.

Maya unlocked the door, and motioned for me to come in. I did, and for a few seconds I was looking around at the Katansky's living room, which was quite nice and as though vaguely familiar. But just a few moments later, Maya came in after me, locked the door behind her (leaving the key in) and suddenly she grabbed both my hands, pushed me back against the door, and kissed me (full on the lips!). Oh my god! After the initial shock passed, I started hungrily kissing her back. It was amazing, unbelievable. It was nothing like kissing Pine, as aside from the sexual excitement it sent jolts of pure joy through my body. I popped an instant boner that strained my pants. I let go of Maya's hands and led my palms up her sides, until my hands were resting on her shoulders; while Maya put her hands on my back, and we kept making out this way for a while. When our lips finally parted, I couldn't help but have mine stretch into a huge (and probably somewhat silly) smile. Maya smiled back at me, took me by the hand and led me into the corridor, and then to the left into the door of her room. I managed to notice that it was tastefully done in orange décor, with wall to wall carpets. There, we fell on Maya's soft orange bed, and resumed our passionate face-sucking. I wasn't thinking of anything anymore, my inhibitions disappearing faster than a snow-man would on this hot June day. I instinctively brought my hands up to her breasts and took hold of one in each hand, feeling them through Maya's dress. A soft moan escaped from her lips, which were still locked with mine. She then disengaged our kiss, grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it off of me. I raised my hands to make it easier. The shirt went flying into the corner of the room. Then Maya stood up from the bed, reached back and unbuttoned her dress. It slipped down along her body to her feet, leaving her to stand there with a small bra covering her small (but very attractive) breasts; and white cotton panties. I took a moment taking this magnificent view, before hastily unfastening my belt, unbuttoning and finally pulling down my trousers, revealing my very tented underwear. We then resumed our kissing and fondling, touching anything our hands would reach. Maya was about my height, so my strained, confined dick rubbed perfectly along her panties-clad slit, and even through two layers of fabric it felt amazing, and I could feel myself starting to leak precum. I could also feel Maya's own wetness along the slit of her pussy. I was desperately trying to unhook her bra with my fingers while we were kissing, but the damn thing refused to give in. Finally, Maya disengaged from our kiss and unhooked it herself, and revealed two perfectly-shaped mounds, with two fabulously engorged nipples at their centers. Once again we resumed the kissing and fondling, this time my hands having unrestricted access to her breasts, which I took full advantage of. Remembering Pine's teachings, I rubbed them gently around and around the nipples, causing Maya to gasp with delight. She didn't remain in debt, however, and I soon felt her hand creeping under the elastic of my underwear, and taking hold of my extremely aroused tool. Now it was my turn to moan and whimper, as her fingers moved around the head of my dick, profusely touching my most sensitive spots.

Finally, we disengaged again, and took a moment looking at each other. I still couldn't believe this was happening; here was the girl of my dreams, the prettiest girl in school, standing almost naked in front of me. Maya took my hand in hers and said the first words since we entered the Katansky household:

"And you're the smartest... and prettiest... and altogether best girl I know," – I managed to stammer in reply. Maya looked at me seriously, without a smile, and said quietly:

My breath was taken away from this simple offer she made, and my first reaction, almost involuntary urge, was to shout `Yes! Of course I want to!'. But I didn't. It would have been easy and simple to, but I just couldn't start the relationship with my dream girl with a lie. So, with my heart falling into a well of fear that I'm maybe about to ruin this, I whispered:

Maya's eyes became round and wide, and she stared at me in disbelief for a few seconds. But we knew each other well enough, and she quickly realized that I wasn't kidding, nor was I lying. Maya's expression of disbelief slowly changed to one of sad disappointment, as she sat on the edge of the bed. I was quickly and instinctively regretting my blatant honesty, thinking that I've ruined everything and quickly growing devastated by that thought. But Maya suddenly took my hand into hers again, and pulled me in, until I was also sitting on the bed right next to her. I grew a little encouraged – maybe not all is lost. Maya, still holding my hand, plaintively giggled:

We were both silent for a little while, my hard-on slowly deflating. Then Maya slowly started:

"Steven... if you don't mind... can I ask... I mean, you know... who did you do it with?,,"

It was weird hearing Maya, who is usually so eloquent, having trouble asking a question. I readily replied:

"It was just a little while ago, with one of Ian's older friends; her name is Pine, she's sort of a hippie girl. It was nothing really, we went for a day on the river with them, and she just wanted a bit of fun after a swim, I think..."

"Oh, god no!" – I hotly replied, taking Maya's other hand. – "I hardly know her. It was just... you know, she was calling the shots, and she... she said she'd teach me how to be with a girl, so..."

"It's okay, you don't have to explain. It's not like we were... a couple... then."

"Well, my plan of us trading virginities went up in smoke, as you don't have yours anymore. But you can still take mine, if you want."

My heart skipped I beat. I sat there, silent, for too long, probably. Then I cautiously said:

"Of hurting you," – I replied truthfully. – "I read in a book that a girl's first time can be painful."

That's right, hymen! That's what it was called in the book, I remembered. It's supposed to tear during a girl's first time. I was puzzled:

"Well, as long as we're being honest," – Maya smirked at me again, – "you remember that I went out with Chris O'Riley last year?.."

I did remember, and frowned instantly at the memory. Maya went out for two months last year with a junior named Chris O'Riley, a jock-type blond stud two year older than her. I remembered now that I was very happy when she broke it off. Did she have sex with him?! No, can't be, she said just now that she's still a virgin.

"Well," – Maya blushed slightly, – "I let him finger me when we were going out; that's when it tore."

"Oh," – I said, relieved. This wasn't so bad, that moron Chris only had his fingers in my perfect girl. Then I asked, just out of curiosity: – "Did it hurt?"

"Yes!" – Maya replied, – "There was even some blood. That's why I asked him to stop. And he got mad at me and called me a baby, so I asked him to leave. And then we broke up."

"Because certain people can take forever to work up the courage to ask a girl out!" – She looked at me with a joyful smirk. – "What was I supposed to do, wait for you forever?.."

"Yes!" – I smirked as well. And then leaned in, and our lips locked again, in a tender kiss. My hard-on instantly returned, straining my undies.

Gradually, without breaking the kiss, we moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to laying on it horizontally, with Maya ending up on top of me. She then broke the kiss, and slowly moved her hands down my body, until she grabbed hold of the elastic to my briefs. I readily lifted my midsection, allowing her to remove the last piece of cloth I was wearing. My little friend jumped up, finally free to stretch out and point at the ceiling. Maya touched it's tip, sending shivers of joy through my body, and said with a smile:

"I'm sorry. Did I say cute? I meant `huge, masculine, powerful, immense'. How's that?

Maya laughed lightly (I love that laugh – it's like golden flakes falling from the sky, that little laugh she has!), and concluded:

I resigned to my fate, and agreed that it is. Maya then showed her appreciation for the cuteness of it by fondling it every which way and exploring it's modest length back and forth, immediately bumping up my orgasmometer half way there. After a bit of this, I decided it was my turn to look at the goods, and I turned us over, and looked up at my darling girl's face as I took hold of the elastic on her cotton panties. Maya nodded and lifted her butt, allowing me to easily slide them off of her. And there it was, in all of it's glory, the magic spot of my all–time crush. I fleetingly thought that it looked very different from Pine's. Pine's pussy was big, covered in a large triangular bush of hair, and somewhat sloppy. Maya's fourteen-year-old treasure, however, was perfection itself: it was a tight-looking slit, with just a patch of hair going down the center of it, and thinning out towards the edges. The hair was almost transparent, and I could clearly see both the outer and inner lips of the heavenly vagina, slightly moist, ready for me. I touched it with my finger, fascinated. Then I remembered the little nub Pine guided me to, and quickly found that on Maya as well. As soon as I touched it, she gasped. I drew my hand away, frightened:

"Nothing! It just feels really good there, touch it again!" – my love responded.

I didn't need to be asked twice, and started rubbing the nub in earnest, causing Maya to squirm and moan. Finally, she grabbed my hand and stopped me, panting. Then she looked into my eyes, a long, deep, loving look. Then she looked down at my very hard tool and said:

There was nothing I wanted more in this world, so I quickly drew forward and lined up my throbbing stick with the entrance to Maya's tunnel. And it was then, suddenly, amid all the hormones that were rushing through my body, that a sensible thought jumped through, and I remembered what was probably the most important fact that I picked up from the sex book Smako and I read all that time ago at his house, and said:

"Oh, right... My mom told me that for a girl to have sex she needs protection so to not get pregnant. Do you have any?"

"Well, you're the experienced one; you ought to know!" – Maya smirked at me again.

"I don't think I saw anything then. Maybe Pine was taking some pill or something, I read somewhere that the best protection is some sort of pill."

"That's right!" – Maya exclaimed. – "My mom takes those! I've seen them in her room. Do you think that if I just take one we can have sex?.."

"I don't know," – I said truthfully. Then I sensibly added: – "But I don't think you should take some pill without asking someone first."

"You're right," – Maya sighed, – "But I was really hoping we'd have sex now."

Wow! I thought boys were supposed to be the horny ones. Between Pine and now Maya, I was starting to change my mind though. Maya looked at my dick, all ready to go at the entrance to her pussy, and asked:

"Can't you just not squirt your stuff into me?.. I just want to feel how your thing would feel in me, just for a little while."

That was an idea that hadn't occurred to me. That's right, I can just stop before my orgasm, that should prevent making a baby in her. And since I really (really!) wanted to put my throbbing tool into the girl of my dreams, it didn't take long for me to convince myself that not squirting inside Maya would be a piece of cake.

"Okay, we can try it for a little bit," – I said confidently. Maya spread her legs a bit, her pussy lips parting slightly, and I positioned myself once again at the entrance to the holy grail.

It was amazing, watching (and feeling!) the mushroom–shaped head of my prick slowly slide into the tight opening of the best girl in the world, a girl that I was now hopelessly, madly in love with. Electricity ran all the way to the top of my head, making my whole body shiver, and pushing my dick deeper into Maya with a jerk. She hissed a bit and said:

"Sorry!" – I whispered, and started pushing in further as slowly and smoothly as I could. Maya's face had a concentrated expression on it, as if she was intently listening to her own feelings. I was sure being overwhelmed with mine. Pushing into her tight opening was nothing like slipping into Pine's. There was so much warm friction on my rod, it felt like heaven. However, due to the not at all impressive size of my stick, the slow descent into the heavenly tunnel did not take very long, and soon my crotch, with it's pathetic little ringlet of hair around the base of my tool, was pressed firmly against Maya's pubic mound. I then started to withdraw, also slowly and carefully, and then moved back in a bit more quickly. Maya's breathing was quickening, and when I thrust in a bit quicker she let out a little moan. Encouraged by this, on the next pass I rammed in even faster and a bit harder, reaching deeper into her this time. Suddenly, Maya's eyes opened wide, her mouth flung open, and she let out a loud pant. Once again afraid that I hurt her, I froze, looking down on her face with worry, but Maya's open mouth stretched into a wide sexy smile, as she grabbed hold of my butt with her hands and tried pushing me deeper inside of her. I realized I'd hit some pleasure spot inside of her, and resumed my rhythmic strokes, trying to drive deeper into her now, as much as my boyish tool would allow. With every thrust, Maya whimpered and moaned, making this – already the sexiest experience of my life – even hotter. About two minutes of this passed, with our rhythm steadily increasing, when suddenly – without any warning or forbearing indication – my head exploded with the most powerful orgasm of my life so far. And behind the crazy fireworks that were going off inside my head, an alarming thought kept pounding: `You cannot squirt inside her, you cannot squirt inside her!' The situation, however, which I completely did not plan for, was that I had lost all control of my body, which kept on what it was doing, as if my brain was separate from it. I clenched my teeth as hard as I could, and while a long, animal-like moan escaped my lips, I managed – with an inhuman effort – to pull my dick all the way out of Maya. And just in time too! When the very red and expanded head of my knob slid out of her entrance and jumped up, it was at that very moment when the first blast of my whitish goo rocketed out of my piss slit, and landed somewhere between Maya's neck and her tight little boobs. The second spurt landed on her stomach, while the third and fourth dribbled down around her pubic area.

We were both breathing hard, my breathing was even coming out with little whimpers. Maya looked down at the pools of cum I left all over her body, a curious smile on her lips, and played with the texture of my spunk a bit. I was still panting, looking down on this spectacle.

"Yeah," – Maya agreed. But after a moment, she added: – "It was great, though! I loved feeling you inside of me."

"I loved feeling myself inside of you too," – I quipped, leaned down, and shared a gentle kiss with the girl I love. Then I remembered that she didn't get to get off yet.

"The hell it is, come here," – I smirked, as I positioned Maya in front of me, and groped with my fingers around her slit to find that little button again. On the way I bumped into spots of my own cum, and – feeling naughty – spread them around a bit, being careful not to get any inside of her tunnel however. I quickly found my goal, and started rubbing her little nub in a circular motion. Maya's breathing instantly increased, and in half a minute she was whimpering and moaning again. After another couple of minutes of concentrated efforts on my part, her hips began to buck wildly, rubbing her pubic mound harder into my hand, and then she let out a long screech, followed by a few large bucks, and grabbed my hand to stop me. I realized that she had her orgasm, and let go. Maya smiled at me and, after her breathing calmed down a bit, she said:

I think that was the first time ever she called me "Tinny" rather than "Steven". And I know that I've said before that I liked her calling me Steven. But after the experience we just shared, for some reason, hearing her call me "Tinny" made me feel warm all over. Probably because Maya gave my old nickname a new, intimate meaning, just for us two. I simply replied:

Afterwards, we took a shower together, as we were both quite messy and sticky from my cum. In the shower, we splashed around playfully, which led to another make-out session, under the warm, sparkly stream of water. However, before it went too far, I suggested we don't have sex again until we get proper protection, as I was not at all sure I'd be able to control myself well enough and pull out in time again. It was a miracle I pulled out this time, anyway. Maya agreed with me right away, and said that waiting until we had protection was a good idea; and promised to get some the first chance she got. In the end, we just played with each other's stuff until we both orgasmed again, dried off, got dressed, and went into the living room. We switched the TV on, cuddled in front of it and still managed to catch the end of the movie. Finally, as much as I would have loved to put this off, but it was time to get to the unpleasant business of confronting Ian. We telephoned him, then Vern and Smako, and asked each of them to come over.

As I expected, Pete turned up first. Just a few minutes after our talk on the phone, he knocked on the door. Maya and I were cuddled on the sofa, and neither wanted to get up, so we just yelled:

Having come in and seen us cuddling on the sofa, Maya's hands going through my hair, Smako's eyebrows raised.

"Well, it's about time," – Pete mumbled, – "Everyone knew since forever that you guys liked each other."

After a while Vern turned up as well. Having seen the same scene of Maya and me cuddling, his mug presented a joyful doltish smile, and he excitedly said:

"Wow, Tinny, you're on fire! First Pine, and now..." – his voice abruptly trailed off, when he noticed the annihilating gaze Smako was giving him. It dawned on Vern that he was being a blabbermouth.

Maya giggled. I decided not to torture poor Vern, after all he can't help being a simpleton. But he had grown on me these last few weeks, as he was, undoubtfully, a lovable simpleton.

We sat there and shot the breeze for a while, waiting for Ian. Smako was very dissatisfied with the fact that we decided to talk to Ian at all.

"Yeah," – I picked up, – "We are too quick to judge; after all, this is Ian we're talking about, I don't think he'd do something like this."

Finally, Ian arrived, cheerful and derisive. Also noticed Maya and me cuddling together. He looked at me indulgently, but grew a bit colder. However, a few seconds later he forced himself to appear cheerful again, and with a wide unnatural smile, he asked:

"So why didn't you guys just take them from that truck when you found them?. Oh, I know!. You wanted to track down the thief and snoozed through it. Famed Pinkertons you are."

"No. Of a car, you wiseass moron. It was a Lark... And it had very interesting tire covers: the front pair stock, and the rear pair off a Jeep."

"I want to say," – I answered, – "That on your friends' car, the car of those Pines, Sandys and Nicks, are the very same tire covers! That is what I want to say."

Even Maya understood the dramatic character of the moment. Just now, I saw that she was finally convinced that this is not some imaginary detective story, but serious business. And that she, likely, admired the iron logic of my questions.

"What are you, crazy?!" – Ian cried and jumped up from the chair. – "How dare you make such accusations?!"

His indignation was so sincere that we became embarrassed. Vern was nearly crying. After all, he was Ian's friend for years, and now this situation was very uncomfortable for him. Only Smako was not a bit embarrassed. He contemptuously muttered:

"We don't want to offend you, Ian," – said Maya, – "but you understand: we have to find out what happened!"

"And anyway," – plaintively said Vern, – "It's not like we suspect you personally. We just want to figure this out."

"Neither I, nor my friends did not take the shock-absorbers. It's silly and ridiculous to speak about it. It doesn't have to be the same car; is there only one car in Somerset with mixed rubber?"

"Life is full of the most unexpected coincidences," – uttered Ian, again finding his confident and derisive tone. Then he looked directly at me: – "And you, Casanova, should know better than to think my friends did something like this, after what you did with one of them."

With that nasty remark, he was hoping to get me in trouble with Maya, as he, of course, didn't know that I've told her about Pine. He probably wouldn't have told her, if he was in my place, that dick. Now it was my turn to flare up:

"For your information, asshole, I already told Maya about Pine, so you can stop plotting! Not everyone is a dishonest liar like you are. So all you accomplished by that nasty remark of yours is to remind everyone that little `ole me had sex with two girls already, and you still only had sex with your hand!"

Ian jumped up again, and opened his mouth to yell something back at me, but Maya interrupted him:

"Boys, boys!" – She cried out and gently pulled on my hair. It worked, I cooled down. – "All of this is beside the point. Let's get back on track here."

"Fine," – said Ian insultedly, looking at me with a hateful gaze, – "You guys go ahead and get back on track, and I think I'll go home. I didn't do anything, and listening to your accusations and insults is demeaning to me."

"You're going nowhere, sit down," – Smako menacingly said. He himself sat across from Ian, looked him in the eyes, and suddenly asked: "If you're so righteous, tell me, why'd you bring those friends of yours to the truck depot then?"

That was an interesting development! I didn't even know anything about this, but Smako's practical grasp never fails; he notices everything. Atta boy, Pete!

"When did I bring them there?. Oh yeah, there was one time... I wanted to help them with a car repair, acquainted them with the chief engineer."

"Right. This is going nowhere," – I said, – "To finish this we have to talk to your friends."

"Ah, so that's how it is!" – said Maya. – "This means that you won't come with us?"

"This conversation compromises me. I am a member of the film studio and I do not wish for such nonsense to reach there."

"Fine, then we will raise this issue up with the management," – said Maya. I could feel that she was really becoming angry. Her hand in my hair, which up to now was constantly petting me gently, froze and tensed up. – "We'll see if it reaches your studio then!"

"After all we will only ask them about the car," – said Vern trying to calm things down again, – "We won't talk to them about you..."

If a person is not guilty, then what is there for him to worry about? Why is Ian so against our meeting with his friends? What is he afraid of? After all, he nearly convinced us that he is not guilty of anything... And, truth be told, we, except for Peter, did not think he did it anyway.

This is what we were thinking, when we sat on the school's sports field and waited for Ian and his friends. We did not state those thoughts aloud, but I knew: each of us, with considerable alarm, asked himself this question: What is Ian afraid of? It was horrible for us to think that Ian, our friend, may have gotten mixed up in such a nasty business.

The school's sports field was unusually empty. At it's edges stood the basketball hoops, complete with somewhat torn rope baskets, the lop-sided columns of a volleyball net, and the low wooden benches, half sunk into the earth and their wood black from all the rain that came down on them during the winter. The longjump sand pit gleamed with yellow; I could even make out some footprints, indicating that someone recently jumped here.

It was already close to eight when the familiar Lark approached the school. Ian, Sandy and Nick got out from it. Pine didn't come (a small sigh of relief escaped my mouth, after all it would be very awkward if Pine would show up, with my girlfriend Maya here... A happy jolt once again made me smile: however it happened, but the prettiest girl in school is now my girlfriend! How great is that!.. But wait, I should be focused on the issue at hand. I wiped the smile off my face and put a serious expression on). All three of them approached us.

"Here," – unnaturally smiling, said Ian, – "These are the kids from the truck depot. I told you about them. And I told you about the shock-absorbers too." – he turned to us: – "They already know everything..."

"Hey, are all workers at the truck depot so tiny? Nick, look, how tiny they are!"

"Okay," – continued Sandy, – "So you suspect us in the theft of some shock-absorbers?"

"No," – I objected, – "nobody suspects you of anything. But the shock-absorbers were taken away from the back lot of the depot with a car. And this car had the same tires as yours."

"You shouldn't laugh," – I said, – "Your car has the tires of a Jeep on the back wheels. And so did the car that the shock-absorbers were stolen with."

"Nick, d'you hear that?" – cried Sandy. – "That car has the same tires as us."

"Wait, why are you, as a matter of fact, engaged in this investigation?" – suddenly asked the so-far silent Nick.

"You're practitioners?" – Interestedly asked Sandy. – "Whence, from technical college?"

"This school," – I looked back at the building of our school. – "Middle school, eighth grade..."

"Wait, wait," – stopped him Sandy, – "So that means you're schoolboys; on industrial practice, am I right?.. D'you hear that, Nick?! And him?" – Sandy pointed to Ian.

"Nick! How do you like that?! A schoolboy! What a comedy! Ah, yes Ian, well done! Nick, how do you like that?"

Ian, without raising his eyes, with a gloomy face, drew something on the sand with his heel.

"Ah, children, children, how naïve are your years," – derisively continued Sandy, cocking his head to the side, his red hair gleaming under the rays of the setting sun. – "So, you're all schoolchildren! And Ian too..." – He suddenly frowned. – "What can we do with you, huh? Whadda you say, Nick, what should we do with them? Beat on them? It's impossible, they're juveniles. Spank them? No, they're too big for that."

"You know, we can beat on people too," – Smako gloomily spoken, and got up, threateningly pulling his large, muscular frame in Sandy's direction.

"Yet we should," – continued Sandy, as if not paying attention to Smako, but keeping a wary glance on him.

"`The Deputy Chief of the technical department on the truck depot'! You're a fucking prattler baby, that's what you are!"

And then we finally understood what this is all about... And also burst out laughing. Ian was hiding from his friends that he is, in fact, a schoolboy. He presented himself as the deputy chief of the technical department. There isn't even such a post in the motor depot. What a joker Ian is! Now it is clear why he was so afraid of this meeting.

"You're playing adults, children. Ian is a deputy chief, you're all inspectors... First Ian took us for a ride, now you lot."

"Ian presented himself to be a big boss... That's silly. He likes to seem older than he actually is, that is his problem. But we are speaking about a serious issue. And it is a pity that you concern it so ironically."

That was a fine expression by Maya! Sandy and Nick have grown quiet right away. I immediately took advantage of it:

"We only have one question: was your car on the back lot that night when the shock-absorbers were stolen or not?"

"No," – said Sandy, – "We approached your truck depot only in the afternoon. Ian promised to arrange a free service for us, after all he is `the deputy chief of the technical department'... Nothing came out of it, of course."

"No, we serviced it. We were acquainted some mechanics that did it for a good price," – answered Sandy. – "But we did not change the shock-absorbers. Is that all? Are we free to go?"

He somehow quickly jumped from a derisively-joking tone to a serious one and back again. And he really liked to repeat: "D'you hear that, Nick?"; even though Nick heard everything perfectly, he was not deaf.

"All right! So I prattled a bit of nonsense about the technical department. What for? Just like that, for laughs. I wanted to, so I had some fun. I hope I didn't hurt anyone's feelings, did I now?"

Sandy looked at me. And Nick looked at me. And from these looks it became clear to me, that they left them the car.

"No," – said Sandy, – "We didn't leave them the car as such. They came to my garage with the parts and everything and did the service."

"However, then they took it for a spin around town for an hour or two, to check the wheel balance and stuff."

"Congratulations, a theft was carried out with your car. So, is all of this still funny now?.."

It was clear that Sandy is somewhat afraid. But, interestingly enough, Ian was also shaking with fear. Why is he afraid, I wonder? Then Sandy said:

"They replaced the piston rings and a few parts of the exhaust, adjusted the wheel balance, assembled everything, took the car out to check if everything was alright... And when they got back they took their payment and left. One of them was called, I think, Simon. That's everything I know about them."

"We were counting on Ian," – objected Sandy. – "He sent some worker from the depot who acquainted us with these mechanics. It was at the depot's gate."

"When I left the chief engineer's office, Lester Hugh was walking towards me. So I asked him, whether he knows someone who can do a service cheaply. Lester told me that he knows two mechanics. That they're reliable people, that customers are happy with them. Then he acquainted Sandy with these mechanics, and they agreed on a price, that's all."

"What did I do?" – Ian was indignant. – "Someone stole the shock-absorbers. What do I, Sandy or Nick have to do with this?! Whoever stole them, let them answer for it. And who stole them – it is an unknown."

"Ian is right," – said Sandy. – "You say the shock-absorbers were taken out with my car? It might have been a coincidence. They could have just as easily been taken out on some other car, even a taxi. The driver of a taxi is not obliged to know what his passengers carry."

"No, it really is your business," – I objected. – "Ian knew that Lester Hugh is a dishonest person, and had no right to address you to him. And he addressed. He wanted to prove to you what a mighty and influential person he is. And if you guys are so wise and experienced compared to us, as you keep pointing out, you should have known better and noticed something was wrong."

"Well, what's done is done," – said Sandy. – "To us this is henceforth a lesson: not to have anything to do with lying tit-suckers like Ian."

"No-one will allow you to kill him," – said Maya, – "But what you definitely should do is get the shock-absorbers back."

Not only Sandy, but also all of us were surprised to hear such an unexpected conclusion from her.

"Why are you so surprised?.." – said Maya, – "There is nothing surprising here. Neither the depot nor we should cover neither for your levity, nor for Ian's self-conceit."

"Force those who took them to return them then," – I said, – "Your dear mechanics."

"That's easy!" – said Smako gloomily. – "Lester Hugh will tell you where to find them."

"Aha!" – I said. – "When it was necessary for you, you entered into contact with him right away, and now to right the wrong that was done – might I add because of your contact with him – you don't want to! Well then, buy a set of shock-absorbers yourselves."

"Hey!" – Nick said. – "A set of shock-absorbers for a caddy costs no less than a couple hundred bucks."

We're putting in the motor! It's the most crucial moment in a vehicle's assemblage. The motor is it's heart, it gives the vehicle life, movement, without the motor the car or truck is dead.

The motor was brought on a special mobile crane, from which it suspended. Entangled by chains, it shook and floated in midair as a plumelet. And it probably weighs at least three hundred pounds. And putting it in is not so simple, everything must be adjusted very precisely. You must calculate so that all the fastenings make contact at all the right places.

After we fixed the motor in it's position, we installed some electric equipment that was remaining, then the radiator and finally the carburetor... At last, we filled in water, gasoline and oil. And just like that – the truck is ready! Everything, except for the paint, that is. We will paint her tonight, and during the night she'll dry. Tomorrow, it will be possible to take her out to the streets of town. Of course, with a special testing license plate.

When it was time to test the truck, all of our kids ran out of their shops. Ian was also with us. He even tried to do something. Now he probably regretted that he learned nothing during this month.

For some reason, the entire class knew the shock-absorbers story. I wonder who told? Not me, that's for sure. Apart from Smako and Maya, I only told Ivan Polak and, I think, Adam Grinko... And the rest? It's interesting, who told the rest?

The first to sit at the wheel was Bud Zephron, he got the honors as the head supervisor of our restoration. And the truck made a lap around the back lot, with the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd, one might say. Then Bud sat on the instructor's seat, and each of us had a turn at the wheel, and circled the lot. Of course, only those of us who had the certificate of a young trucker. The truck turned out magnificent, everything worked perfectly.

The manager approached and said: "Let's me see what you created here," – and also did a lap. And when he got out of the cabin, he declared:

After that we drove the truck into the paint shop, where Tim Garcia and Red Roberts started on it.

As always, many people hung about around our truck. Even Lester Hugh approached a few times. But he didn't look at the truck, he looked at me. And Smako noticed this:

I didn't know why Lester Hugh kept staring at me. I had no time to think about it. My life was full of joy now, and nothing could foul my mood.

Since that fateful day, the day when Maya and I got together, my life became complete. I was constantly happy. I was in love with her up to my ears, and missed no opportunity to show it. The next day, Maya came to my house, and we had some more fun with each other. She still didn't get that pill she wanted, so we didn't have sex, but we did plenty of other great stuff, and to top it all off she sucked my dick `till I came. I tried to lick her pussy, and she enjoyed it, but said she prefers my fingers, so I finished her off that way. Then we cuddled and talked for a while. I told her that lately I've been thinking, with sadness, about the fact that our practice will soon be over. That was weird for me, as it is well known that I have no interest in technical stuff. To this, Maya said:

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she might be right. I might have an interest in technics after all. Unbeknownst to me, it might have developed during my time here, at the depot. This was a serious discovery, it could change my life plans. So that's what I kept thinking of during the day of the test drive, listening to myself and trying to understand, would I maybe like to keep on doing something like this after the practice is over?..

Only by the end of the day I became a little nervous about Lester Hugh's persistent stares. Really, what does he want from me?

The whistle rung out. The working day has come to an end. Mechanics washed their hands, changed clothes at their lockers, removing their overalls and changing into every-day jeans and shirts. We too began to disperse. We did some fine work today.

Naturally, lately I was walking home with Maya, rather than Pete. And then either she'd stay with me at my house, or I'd go on to hers. Once Pete tagged along, but he hardly said anything while we walked, then when we got there he just hastily said his goodbyes to us, and ran upstairs to his apartment. Maybe he felt like the third wheel. Honestly – I don't know why, both me and Maya were his friends, and we enjoyed his company. But anyway, this was the order of business for me and Maya; both Maya's parents and my parents worked late enough, and both of us had no siblings, so we had at least one empty apartment to ourselves until about seven every work day, and we strived to take advantage of that private time as much as we could. But today things were different: Maya had a doctor's appointment after work (probably, about getting that pill), so Pete and I got to walk home together as we used to. Even though Pete didn't say anything about it, I could sense that it was pleasant for him for it to be just the two of us buds again.

And then, when Peter and I almost reached our house, I suddenly felt someone's heavy hand on my shoulder. I turned back. It was Lester Hugh. It is surprising how did we not notice him following us.

Of course, we weren't scared of that asshole, with Pete there we could probably take him. And besides, we were a hundred feet away from our building, everyone knows us here, if he tried anything, people will see. Still, I felt somewhat relieved that I was going home with Pete today, rather than Maya, as this could potentially get ugly. I said:

"Why don't you keep that ordering us around shit to yourself?! He doesn't have to go anywhere, I have no secrets from him."

"You forgot?! I can remind you quite easily..." – he said, now openly threatening.

"Did you see me take the shock-absorbers?" – whispered Lester, choking on his rage. – "Did you?!"

"No," – I answered, – "I didn't see you take them. But they were taken by those friends of yours, the mechanics you recommended. And we know by what car."

"We are going to prove nothing!" – I answered. – "Let those whose job it is to prove things like this prove it. We'll just tell them what we know, I'm sure they'll think of a way to prove it just fine."

"You little shit, first you tried to pin this all on Bud Zephron, now you're trying to pin it on me?!"

"I never in my life tried to pin it on Bud, it was all you who thought that up," – I objected, – "But your fantasy blamings are uninteresting to me. I know who is to blame for this. We will find those shock-absorbers one way or another. And if they are found without us telling this story to the police, then all the better for it. Then we won't have to tell anyone." – I laid out a pretty fat hint there, hoping Lester would take the undeclared deal I was proposing. He was silent, thinking. I said: "That's it! I'm not talking about this anymore. Let's go, Pete!"

We just turned around and went home. And where Lester Hugh went, we did not see; because we never once turned back to look.

As I've said, my life was now quite blissful. And even the fact that Maya won't be coming today didn't sadden me much. After all, right now she was busy getting the very thing that will allow us to have sex again, so I was more than willing to miss one day of us being together for that!

I came home, warmed up my dinner and ate it. While I was eating, there was a knock on the door. When I opened, it was Matty. I was glad to see him – during the last few days I didn't see him at all, and just now I realized that I missed him somewhat.

He came in, sat across the table from me and watched me eat for a while, without saying anything. But I could tell something was on his mind. Finally, I got tired of waiting:

"Almost... Why are you asking, you little spy, I know you've been watching us coming and going from your window!" – I quipped, while ruffling his hair.

"What on earth does one has to do with the other?.. No, I'm pretty sure I'll still wank, at least occasionally."

"Oh!" – Matty cheered up some, – "And can we still do wank together like we used to?.."

"Matty, how many times do I have to tell you, it's a verb! Can we still wank, not can we still do wank. And yes, of course we can."

"Oh good... because I started to think that you won't want me to come over anymore..."

That stung me some. I got up, went around the table, took Matty by his shoulders and hugged him. He instantly put his arms around my torso, and leaned his head on me. I said:

"First of all, you've got this all wrong. I didn't hang out with you for the wanks we had. I love to hang out with you, you're my little bro, and I care about you. And you will always be my little bro, and you can always come over, all right?.." – Matty hastily nodded, a smile quickly spreading across his face. I continued: – "And even if we didn't wank together again at all, I would still want you to come over, a lot! Okay?.."

"Yes!" – Matty beamed. But then he raised a cute worried face at me, while still holding on to me: – "But we will wank together again, right? `Cause I want to."

I thought about this for a moment, and figured that Maya probably wouldn't mind.

Twenty minutes later both of us were properly relieved and relaxed. We lay there, both naked, and chatted about this and that for a while. And I was enjoying our company just as I always was, a brotherly feeling washing over me for this sweet, fun boy.

... In the Evening I was lying on the sofa and re-reading "In Search of the Castaways" by Jules Verne. I very much like this book, it is full of heroic adventures, and also meticulously described faraway lands, so that you can just picture the events unfolding in your head, like a color film. It's just amazing! And every time I just open this book, with the intention to only thumb through it a little bit, I cannot come off it and end up reading the whole thing.

And here, while I lay on the sofa and read it once more, the doorbell rang. I didn't pay it any attention, as my parents were home and I wasn't expecting anyone. But after a while my mom's head appeared in my doorway:

I quickly put aside the book and ran to the hallway, as I thought that perhaps Maya came to see me after all, now that her doctor's appointment was done. I was a bit nervous, as I hadn't told my parents about us being a couple yet. The outside door was slightly opened. I flung it open... And was slightly shocked: on the stairway stood Susan, the dispatcher...

"You wanted to see me?" – I asked, more than a little puzzled by such a visit.

"I'd rather you come out," – said Susan. I went out to the stairway and shut the door behind me. Susan seized me by the hand:

I guessed at once who and what she means. But I saw that she was on the verge of tears, and became awfully frightened. I hate it when women cry. Women, small children and cats. My heart is torn when they cry. I began to quickly think of an answer which would calm Susan down; but I was too late. She started sobbing.

"You don't know him at all," – she managed to say in between sobs, – "He's a good guy, really. But his friends are nasty, they're leading him astray..."

I found that very hard to believe. Lester Hugh – a good guy?.. Please! This is what blind love leads to! And whom does she love and defend so passionately? A guy who fully neglects her and treats her like dirt. I said:

"Oh yeah, his friends! You should tell him to get those nasty friends of his to return the shock-absorbers."

Susan began to pant and then finally begun to full-on cry. She started howling and weeping... Tell me, what the hell was I supposed to do in this situation?..

"I love him so much," – she spoke through her tears. – "If anything happens to him, I don't know what I'll do!"

Now that I had Maya's love, I began to consider myself an expert on the subject. So I was delighted at the possibility to state my views on this issue.

"Love is, first and foremost, mutual respect," – I said. – "If two people love each other, one of them should not do that which will offend or inconvenience another."

"I don't mean you, I'm speaking in general terms," – I explained, – "Inconsiderate behavior is incompatible with love." – I leaned my elbows on the staircase handrail and continued: – "And if a guy treats a lady inconsiderately, it means that he is unworthy of her love and she should find someone else."

I thought of something else to say about love that will be clever and insightful, but I thought up nothing.

"I'm so afraid," – she began to cry again, – "What if he'd go to prison for this."

I was really panicking now from her constant crying. And even though a couple of hours ago I would have loved to see Lester Hugh go to prison, now I was afraid for Susan, and desperately tried to calm her down as best I could:

"What prison!" – I cried out. – "It won't get to prison for sure! If they return what they took, we promise that we won't tell the police or anyone, not even the manager. They won't go to prison."

"He never allowed himself anything like this before. And since he came in contact with them, all of this begun."

"Maybe someone should try and influence him," – I said, running out of ideas. – "Influence him to recognize his errors and take responsibility for them."

Finally, after some more assurances from me that Lester won't go to prison, Susan left. I again sat down with the book. But I couldn't read anymore. I kept thinking about poor Susan, and felt really sorry for her. She looked so distressed. And all because of that asswipe Lester Hugh. Not only that he behaves dishonestly, he forces others to suffer for him.

I think that what I said to Susan was all wrong. I should have told her: "If you love Lester so much, you should help him become an honest man". That is what I should have said. And I started a lecture about the merits of love.

There's nothing to be done! Correct thoughts and necessary words always come to me approximately an hour after the conversation took place.

On the next day, Maya came over to my house after the depot. On the way I told her about both my encounter with Lester and then when we got to my place, I told her about my encounter with Susan as well. She was quite angry:

"What a nasty guy that Lester turned out to be! And to think that I let him dance with me at the club then..."

By now, of course, I had completely put that incident out of my mind, and not once since we've been together did I even consider bringing it up to shame my darling Maya. But now that she said it herself, I couldn't hold back and half-jokingly mumbled:

"So that's what it was! And I was racking my brain, trying to figure out why you're giving me the cold shoulder... Well, anyway, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

As fun as it was hearing what I dreamed of hearing during that week, I had more important things on my mind now than my silly insult. I told Maya:

"That's okay. But I keep thinking about poor Susan though. I mean, did I just tell her total nonsense?.. What should I have told her?.. Can we help her at all?.."

"You know what, Steven, the hell with them. I'm tired of worrying about adults, we're fourteen for godsake! Let them worry about themselves. If she's in love with such a douchebag, that is her problem; she should know better. So stop worrying about Susan, and start having fun with your girlfriend!"

I was delighted at this angry tirade of Maya's. She snapped me right out of my sulky mood, and soon we were frenching on my bed. When we broke the kiss, Maya said:

"...But he said they will only start kicking in after a couple of weeks," – she concluded a little guiltily.

"Oh," – I said, my excitement dying down slightly. However, I wasn't very disappointed. We were on our way, and for now there was plenty of other things for us to try. I said: – "No biggie, we can do other stuff for now, right?"

"Yes!" – smiled Maya, and naughtily whispered: – "I want to try that thing with our mouth again. Do you want to?.."

Today our industrial practice comes to an end. I got to the depot early. The last trucks were just leaving for their working day. They left one after another, heavy lorries and dump trucks, speeding on to the main road and spreading through the streets of town. In their cabins flashed the severe faces of the truckers.

In the yard reigned the usual revival of such an early hour. The sonorous voice of the dispatcher was echoing from the loudspeakers, the chief of operations was yelling on the phone, the anxious face of the chief engineer flashed here and there. The manager stood in his usual spot, impressive, silent, and saw off the leaving trucks with his eyes.

I thought: how strange! Tomorrow I'll be free as a bird. I can sleep as late as I want. Maya and I can meet before noon and do whatever we want: go to a movie, chat, read a book, have sex... I can spend more time with Matty and show him more good books, teach him soccer or baseball tricks, or more pleasure-inducing techniques. In a week I'm going on a three-day trip with my parents, I'll be near the ocean, and finally get some good use out of my mask and flippers.

And even though I knew that I'd get to do all of these great things, I was still somewhat sad... I was sad at the thought that I will not come here early in the morning anymore, I will not change my clothes at my locker with all the mechanics, I will not listen to their jokes and conversations, I will not tell our foreman James Dennon, while trying my best at an indifferent expression: "I'm finished, you can check!"... And James Dennon will not tell me again: "Well, universitant-emansipe, seems fine..."

I will not hear the hissing of a blowtorch, the chirring of welding, the squeal of a saw and the rustling of a wood plane anymore, and, likely, I will soon wean from the habitual smell of gasoline, carbide and acetone. And I will no longer argue with the storekeeper about the fact that he locks up the warehouse at the wrong time. I will no longer once in two weeks receive the money earned by my own hard work. Of course, we're no more than probationers here. But we felt as if we were real workers. We did the same work as everyone else.

This is what I thought, with sadness, while I sat on the bench near the garage, basked in the sun and waited for the shift to begin. At some point, Maya approached, sat close, cuddled to me and put her head on my shoulder. She said nothing, but I knew that she was thinking the same things that I was. We were both saying our silent goodbye to an important piece of our life that happened here at the depot, short as it may have been. A time that had definitely brought us closer together, close enough for us two to finally realize our feelings for each other and act on them.

Then came the sound of the whistle, and each of us, after a few second long kiss, went to our own respective shop.

To tell the truth, not one of us kids did any real work today. Ian came by as the shift was beginning, and said that an instruction about us hangs on the bulletin board. We all went there to read it. The jest of it was: all of us practitioners were officially thanked for our good work. The chief engineer was officially thanked for his good overall management. The chiefs of shops – for their good particular management. The foremen – for overseeing our work. To all the mechanics – for their sensitive relation to us.

"It is dexterously written!" – Ian said and made that physiognomy with which he lets us know that he knows the secret essence of this writing. But I didn't pay him any attention. Now, when the practice was coming to an end, I forgot about all the bad bits, and only remembered the good. After all, in the beginning we were absolutely useless, not able to do anything right, so some frictions were inevitable.

Also, the instruction officially thanked Bud Zephron. For his help with the restoration of our truck. And the reprimand for the accident in Wolton was officially lifted from him. I was glad and relieved for that.

Then came a rumor that we will get our pay now. We rushed to the accounting department. We received a hundred and three dollars, twenty five cents, just as on the first pay. So in the end I didn't understand, what is the difference between the calculated total and the advance payment.

After we got our pay, the chief engineer ordered us to disperse to our shops and hand over everything that we received upon registration, like overalls and nametags. Moreover, he added:

Naturally, we knew that without the chief engineer saying so. But nevertheless, his words pleasantly surprised me. They testified to a certain degree of emotional subtlety. And we always considered the chief engineer to be a completely dry bore.

Smako and I went to the garage, handed over our tools and overalls, cleared our workbenches and started to say our goodbyes. All the mechanics wiped their hands with the towels and shook our hands. Those who were working in the pit also shook our hands from within the pit. Not all of them, probably, had any sentiment regarding us leaving. But we worked a whole month together, dividing all the good and the bad fairly, and they did well enough to show us some working solidarity.

When we reached the entrance to the garage, we looked back. Nobody was looking in our direction or following us with their sights. All were again working, as though nothing had happened. Of course, the end of our practice is an important event only for us. But still I felt somewhat strange. Really, are we strangers to the workers of the garage now? In a few days, we'd likely be forgotten altogether.

In the yard we were met by Ian who said that now there will be a final gathering. And then he meaningfully looked at me, oppositely grinned and added:

From his tone it was clear, that I should prepare for trouble. But he didn't elaborate as to what kind of trouble I should prepare for. That is classic Ian – to purposely withhold information. That is how he underlines his exclusive awareness.

This trait of his always enrages me to no end. I hate uncertainty. Whatever trouble threatens me, I prefer know about it right away. I hate, for example, when someone tells me: "Steven, I have to talk to you". My father has such a habit. He never gets right to it, but tells me, with a gloomy expression, that he has to talk to me. And that talk only happens in a day or two. And the whole of these two days I suffer with uncertainty. I know that he probably won't tell me anything so terrible that I should lose sleep over. But I hate this uncertain period between the precursor of the conversation and conversation itself. It is unpleasant to me that my father doesn't just come right out and state his discontent with me, but waits for a special moment. What the heck for?..

That was approximately the same condition I was in now. I didn't know what trouble expects me during the final gathering. And if I knew, I'd be calm. And if Ian was a real friend, he'd relieve me of this disgusting uncertainty. But I calmed myself with the thought that during this practice, Ian's true colors were thoroughly exposed to everyone, and he now enjoys much less respect and authority than he did at the start of summer. And the fact that it was I who had exposed him – several times – for the fraud that he is, even gave me some superiority over him in the eyes of our classmates (Also, the leaked-out fact that I had sex with a girl he had the hots for and was now the boyfriend of the prettiest girl in our grade also did not hurt my reputation). So whatever nasty thing Ian was preparing for me at the gathering, I tried to convince myself that it wouldn't really hurt me.

We gathered on the back lot – our usual meeting spot, and today – our last meeting spot for this practice. Right beside us stood our truck – shiny, freshly painted, as if it just came out of the factory. It's was here to be officially transferred to our school.

To our indignation, the truck was being received by our school supply manager, Reginald Lacceter. He was walking around the truck and joyfully rubbing his hands, obviously, imagining how much coal he will transport on it. We understood that a serious struggle is ahead of us still, but we were willing to fight. After all this truck was restored by our very own hands, and we'd be damned if we allow that asshole to use it to haul coal or some other shit like that.

The manager took out a pen and signed the transfer certificate. From this minute the truck was school property.

Supply manager Reginald Lacceter immediately jumped into the cabin, while Bud Zephron took the wheel and drove the truck away. It was to be placed at the school's garage, next to it's tattered old sister.

"Your practice is over! Whether it was better or worse than we hoped – that's not the issue. The issue is that it was the first month of your life with a real job. Your first taste of an independent life. You will never forget this month."

The chief engineer declared that all of us will receive a third category, while Ivan Polak is awarded a fourth. Some kids were offended by that, but in my opinion, this is correct. Ivan Polak is an indisputable nominee. If the fourth category were appropriated to me or, say, Smako, that would have been disputable. Then there'd be basis for discontent. So the chief engineer decided correctly. How did he notice, I wonder, that Ivan is a better technician than all of us?

"I think that you kids spent the time here well. You all learned something, and saw how people work in this world of ours. Most people work with their hands; and it's always a good idea to..."

At that moment foreman James Dennon approached the manager and whispered something in his ear. The manager, clearly surprised, loudly said:

We, of course, knew how they were found. But we all kept quiet. After all, a deal is a deal. Let it remain a riddle.

"Whatever, we'll figure this out!" – the manager continued. – "So, what was I saying?" – He looked at the sky: – "I forgot... Never mind. Well, what can I say? You're all good kids. You worked honestly. Ian even helped us in management some..."

Everyone looked at Ian. He had such a face as if he is very embarrassed by the manager's praise; but actually he was full of himself. But I noticed latent mock in many of the eyes of the kids looking at Ian. Maya, who was, of course, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with me, whispered in my ear: "Yeah, right, helped..." I giggled in reply.

"Ian helped," – the manager continued, – "The chief engineer gave him a good characteristic, because he mastered the accounting and documentation. To tell the truth, when I was your age I was more drawn to a hammer and a chisel, and the wheel of a truck naturally... And look, I'm also not doing too bad, I'm a manager now. But, of course, accounting and documentation is also necessary and important... So all the children worked well. There was no misconduct. However, one kid had some kinks in the area of discipline..."

So this is what Ian warned me about! Now the manager will nail me. He'd remind me of that conversation in his office.

"That's right," – I uttered indistinctly. Maya reassuringly put her hand on my back, which gave me some confidence.

"Yes there were," – answered the manager to himself. – "Did you have a hand in the accident?"

"Right. And then you come into my office and start demanding what you consider justice. That, my friend, is not the way to go. If everyone will start teaching me how to do my job, what will come of that?"

"The thing is," – the manager continued, – "You're all still young and green, boys and girls. You should try and learn from people with more experience. And believe me; the time will come when you'd be teaching others. You should remember that. But as a whole, you're good children! And as to Steven Tinner, what I said before, that was me the manager talking. And as a worker and a trucker, I will tell you this: Atta boy, Tinny! You're a fair, honest kid! And I wish there were more like you!"

All the other kids cheered and applauded, some patting me on the back, and Maya gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I, however, sat there totally confused. What was all that about?.. He derided me this way and that, and then suddenly he says he wishes there were more like me.

--- THE END ---

Well, that's the end of the road, you guys. I would like to thank everyone who read the story and especially those who took the time to send feedback and comments throughout the last few months. It is really great to hear from readers, and it gives us authors the energy to keep on writing :)

Also, I would like to remind everyone, that Nifty is a donation-based organization that needs your help. Give a little; those guys are doing great work.

Disclamer

This story involves sexual contact between a minor boy and a minor girl. Read at your own risk! :)

Codes: b/g, b/b

Feedback and contact: tim.kyle@mail.com

Tinny's Summer Adventures – Part 7 (chapters 30-34)