Date: Thu, 16 Nov 2006 01:00:37 +0000 (GMT)
From: Nathan Me <nathan7new@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: James chapter 29

'James' by Nathan

Email address nathan7new@yahoo.co.uk
My stories are archived at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nathansstories/.

This story contains material of a sexual nature and describes sexual acts
between adults and children. If you find this kind of material offensive,
if you are under the legal age to read such material or if it is illegal in
your country, please do not read any further.

My stories may contain some factual or autobiographical elements, but they
are works of fiction and any apparent similarities of my characters to real
people are not intended.

This story is protected by copyright. It may not be downloaded, copied,
printed or otherwise reproduced in any way other than for your private
enjoyment and may not be changed in any way without express written consent
of the author, me!

I hope you enjoy this story.


James: Chapter 29

James sat on the fallen trunk of a large tree just a few meters into the
wooded tree line that surrounded the school's playing fields. He and some
of the others had spent a few days exploring the woods. In some places they
were only a few meters deep before they reached the high stone wall that
bordered the main road. In others they seemed to go on for ages. Some
places, the woods were dense and you could hardly see any light through the
thick canopy and in others the trees were sparser and allowed a dappled
shade to fall on the ground like a constantly moving carpet of browns and
greens. There were a number of hollows created in the thick rhododendron
bushes and by the litter of coke cans and sweet wrappers; these were
obviously used by the children as hidey-holes. Just off from the cricket
nets, a couple of trees had obviously been hit by lightening, because their
trunks had fallen and the splintered remains of the base of their trunks
were badly scorched. Jason sat on one of these, about 4 meters up, watching
Chris, Darren and some other boys from their class in the nets.  Well, he
wasn't actually watching them. As football and Westham, rather than
cricket, was his main thing, he had quickly drifted of into a daydream. He
was back at Tom's and they were sitting on the big sofa watching a movie on
the plasma screen. Tom was rubbing his hand through James' hair, slowly
letting small clumps pass through his fingers. The feeling on James' scalp
was familiar and reassuring. He remembered his mother used to do the same
thing and then his thoughts drifted to those days where he would lie on the
sand, his head in her lap and she would tell him stories of nights and
dragons, castles and princes rescuing fair maidens, fantastic mechanical
inventions that did everything from time travel to turning you into another
person. She always had a good story to tell him. He didn't know or care
whether they were stories she had read or made up: she was just so good at
telling them and as she did, she would run her hand through his hair,
slowly letting small clumps pass through her fingers. He remembered their
last holiday in Brittany, and the small beach they had found in a secluded
cove at the bottom of a steep path. Not even a path really, more a rabbit
trail they had discovered by accident. They had spent long afternoons
swimming and sunbathing and telling each other outrageous stories.

Mr Spiller had searched the buildings and was circling round the edge of
the playing fields on the advice of youngster he had met earlier. It wasn't
unusual for troubled children to seek solitude in the woods. Once, a young
girl had slipped out in the night and they spent the best part of the next
morning looking for, only to find her asleep, deep in one of the
rhododendron clumps. He spied James, seated high up on a fallen tree,
seemingly watching the cricket, but as the boy neither heard nor saw his
approach, it was obvious he was lost in daydream, just as his teachers had
complained of during the day. As he drew closer he could see a distant
stare in eyes that were still damp and slightly red from recent tears. He
knew he could never undo what these children had been through, but every
time he saw this behaviour, he knew some of the causes from personal
experience and his heart broke again and again. He let out a heavy sigh and
continued to the base of the fallen tree. As he drew close he made as much
noise as he could to alert the child that he was near.

The sound of a twig breaking very close finally broke through to James. He
searched the ground below for the source and saw Mr Spiller. The counsellor
waved and asked if he could come up. James looked at the climb up the trunk
and then at the man's pressed suit. A small smile escaped. What adults will
do to get you to trust them.  "Course."  The man scrambled up the trunk and
after a number of comical slips, seated himself beside the boy.  "You a
cricket fan?"  "No, not really. Prefer football. Played some though."  "Me
neither, but I was hopeless at playing it too. I couldn't catch the ball to
save myself." He looked at the boy at his side. The child looked washed
out. Something was obviously troubling him. "You had a chance to speak to
Dr Harcross yet, James?"  "Yep. Yesterday."  "How'd it go?"  "Ok, I guess."
"Will it help, talking with him?"  "Maybe. Can't bring mum back though."
"I'm sorry, James, but nothing can do that, son. Do you have some good
memories of being with her?"  "Yeah. I was just thinking about when we used
to go to the beach and the stories she used to make up and all the fun
things we did."  "Those sound like excellent memories. Do you have any
photographs of her?" He watched the boy as tears fell, following the path
down dirty cheeks they had marked out earlier.  "Somewhere at the house,
but I haven't been back since..." the boy's voice trailed off.  "James,
would you like me to arrange a trip to your house, so you can get a few
personal things?"  "Oh, yeas please." The child threw his arms around the
man. It was, at this moment, irrelevant that this man was part of the
staff. He had connected to a deep need in the child and the child had
responded. He let James hug him for a few minutes and patted the boy's
shoulder in what he hoped was a non-threatening but reassuring manner.
"Sorry, Sir." James said as he let the man go. "It's just that you are the
first person that seems to understand how I actually feel."  "Perhaps
that's because I went through some of the things you have myself when I was
a boy. It's hard for people to really understand what it's like to loose
your parents. I remember feeling so alone and that no one else really
seemed to understand or even care how I felt. Some of your teachers today
mentioned to me that you seemed distant and upset. Is this what was wrong,
or is there something else you want to talk about."  They sat for a few
minutes, watching the cricket practice. Neither spoke. Mr Spiller gave
James space to consider if there was anything he did want to discuss. James
knew he could not discuss Tom. He felt that to do so would be like
betraying him, even if he was a bit of a bastard. Finally he settled on
something that was a recurrent worry.  "What is going to happen to me?"
"How do you mean?"  "Well, I know that some of boys here have family and
might end up going home again, but like, Chris and Danny and Sam can't and
I can't. So what will happen to me, and them?"  "Well, for now, unless
Social Services say otherwise, you'll all stay here. We want to make things
as stable as possible to help you get over everything that has
happened. Long term, you might stay here or go to another home or into
foster care until you are eighteen."  "So you won't put me up to be adopted
by people then."  "It's not like we sell you off or anything,
James. Sometimes children are adopted, but in all honesty, they tend to be
the younger ones. Older children who come here are often with us until they
turn eighteen. At eighteen many go to university or college and we help the
others find jobs and new homes." He turned and looked at the child's
anxious face. "What would you like to do, James?"  "I don't know. I still
can't believe she's dead. Even after everything that's happened, it still
like she will turn up, take me home and make everything right again."
"That's the part of you inside that is struggling to accept what has
happened. Sometimes that part of us can take weeks or months to accept the
truth. There is no need to rush it, James, it will eventually happen." He
paused, looked into the boy's eyes and reached out emotionally, "but you
know, really, that can't happen. She is dead, James." He watched the boy
wipe his tears with the back of a mucky hand. It was hard not to smile as
the child spread the muck across his cheek. James was a very attractive
child and would obviously grow into a handsome young man. He hoped that the
real James inside would also be able to move beyond this and grow into an
attractive person. Denial, blame, anger, acceptance, the grieving process
was always hard, no matter how old you were.  "James, as far as the school
is concerned, though obviously, I can't speak for Social Services, you can
stay here until you are ready to go to university. We all see a lot of
potential in you. You are intelligent and perceptive and we really want to
see you become the man we believe you can be. You really do have the chance
of a bright future."  "What about the others? Sam?"  "They are all able to
stay if they want and if Social Services allow it. You like Sam a lot,
don't you?"  "You know it was him that phoned the police?"  "I do."  "Even
though it was his own dad."  "That took a lot of courage and shows how
strong and brave Sam really is."  "That's what I think. If he hadn't, then
I would have been locked up for who knows how long like Andy and Phillip. I
don't think I could have coped with that." They watched the cricket
practice slowly winding up. "I haven't been through everything Chris, Danny
and Sam and the others have. I had a nice mum until she died. It's only
been a few days compared to years for them. I look at Sam and I don't know
what to say to him. My mum never did anything to hurt me..."

There was obviously something more to that statement and the counsellor
just sat silently waiting to see what it was.  "...Except leaving me."
There it was. The hurt was in being abandoned by someone he loved
deeply. However, that was couched in a genuine concern for the others. He
knew James was a sensitive child, but his concern for his friends was
amazing after everything that had happened.  "How do I help Sam? He sits
and cries on his bed and I give him a hug, but it's not anything like his
own dad being there. And I see Chris trying to make Danny feel better and
he's trying to be brave himself, for Danny, like, but he is gutted too. I
don't know what to do to help them."  "I think you underestimate just how
much your friendship means to Sam and the others. Especially to Sam. I know
he's in the class above yours, but when you're not with him he seems to be
lost. When you are with him he seems happy and as if everything will be all
right. You are a very sensitive boy, James and a good friend. All you can
do for them is to be there. If they need a hug, give them one. It's not
always easy or appropriate for an adult here to hug you, but there are no
rules against you helping each other with a hug. You'll be amazed just how
much better it can make you feel."  "You think?"  "I do. I know it's hard
to see what's going to happen and all the emotions that your experiences
have caused sometimes get in the way of seeing things clearly, but I have
seen it time and time again, where boys get more help from each other than
they ever get from us old fogies."  James turned to see the genuine smile
across the man's face. He wanted so much to show Mr Spiller how much he
appreciated the counsel, the comfort and support and maybe that was why he
did it. Later he was horrified that he had even thought the man would want
him to do it, but just at that moment it seemed so natural and he reached
out and placed his hand on the man's crotch, curling his fingers around the
soft dick through the layers of material. He looked up into the man's face,
expecting to see again the wide smile. Instead he felt his hand quickly
brushed aside.

"No! James!" He checked himself. He had reacted instinctively to being felt
up by the boy. He turned his whole body, putting a little space between
them and took the boy's hand in his own. James burst into tears, realising
how wrong he was and feeling absolutely wretched.

"James, I don't do those kind of things with boys or men. I only do them
with my wife. I know the last few days have been very confusing for you,
but you do not have to be sexual with anyone at all here; certainly not
with any adult." He watched the boy sob and regretted the strength of his
reaction. "Oh, I'm sorry I shouted, but you made me jump. James I know it's
all so confusing, but most adults think it's wrong to do sexual things with
anyone under the age of 16. I'm not angry with you, but I must ask you not
to do it again to me or any adult. Come on, it's ok. You didn't kill me or
anything; it was just a misunderstanding. Let's get back into the school
and get a drink." He and James climbed down and by the time they were down
the boy had stopped crying. They walked slowly across the playing field and
back into the school. Mr Spiller took care to walk slow enough that all the
other boys were well inside the sports block before they passed. The last
thing he wanted was the other boy's seeing James distraught. He walked
James as far as the main stair and then went in and knocked on the
Headmasters office. Best to tell him what had happened straight away.


More to come...