This is a fictional story dealing with love and consensual sexual activities between males. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by homosexuality and/or homosexual themes, leave this site now.
The author retains all rights to this story. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the permission of the author.
Note: Thanks to Dick for feedback on the draft chapters. I owe special thanks to Robb and Rock for doing the final proofreading and catching all those silly little errors I missed.
by Jeff Allen
I know it's a terrible thing to say, but the best thing that ever happened to me was having my parents die in that fire. If they hadn't died, I'd still be blowing truckers for ten dollars a piece, getting fucked for twenty-five, and running drugs for my old man. Instead, Coach Arnold took me in and provided the loving home and close family that I'd never known before.
The day it all happened is sort of a blur in my mind. People have told me what happened, but I really don't remember much of it. My old man had kicked the crap out of me the night before because some trucker had refused to pay up after I'd given him a blowjob. My stomach really hurt a lot the next morning. I remember feeling funny in Coach's class, and then the next thing I knew I was lying on the floor with my head in Coach's lap, and they were all talking about taking me to the hospital. Elijah told me later that I'd thrown up blood all over Coach's pants, but I don't remember that.
At the hospital Coach and the doctor got a look at the bruises on my stomach and back. Man, did that ever get things rolling! I had to tell the doctors and Coach how I got the bruises. The next thing I knew Elijah's grandfather, Sheriff Stuart, was in the room telling me that my mom and dad had been killed when some of the chemicals my dad used to make meth caught fire and burned the trailer. That was when Coach told me that I would be going to live with him. I couldn't believe he still liked me after finding out that I'd been involved with drugs and had been giving blow jobs and more to truckers.
The guys on the soccer team were unbelievable also. I'd been a real shit to them all fall because I didn't want any of them to find out the real reason I wasn't on the team anymore, but they never gave up on me. They showed up at the hospital after school that day, and someone from the team was with me all the next day until Coach was able to take me home. Home. What a great word! For the first time in my life I was living someplace where I knew the people really cared for me. For the first time in my life I felt safe.
Right after I got out to Coach Arnold's house, Trey and TJ took me upstairs to show me around. They explained that I'd be sleeping on a futon in Trey's room at first but that Coach was going to move his bedroom downstairs and I'd move in there along with a new set of furniture. I almost cried. I'd never had a real bed. In the trailer I just slept on an old mattress on the floor in the second bedroom.
Trey and TJ told me to sit down because they had something they needed to tell me. With real serious faces they told me they were gay and that they hoped that wouldn't make me not want to stay in the house. They also said that they fooled around with each other sometimes, although they weren't boyfriends, and that they would be careful not to embarrass me. They asked if I could handle that. I'd been listening to them with my mouth open. Heck, my dad forced me to give him a blowjob when I was eleven right after he caught me playing with myself. After that he expected a blowjob almost every day. Before my twelfth birthday he had me out at the truck stop charging the johns ten dollars for a blow job and twenty five for a piece of my ass, and here they were worried that I'd be embarrassed if they played around with each other in the next room. I just started to laugh.
I don't think that wasn't the kind of reaction they'd been expecting. When I stopped laughing I told them that I was gay also, and there was no way I'd be upset if they had sex in the next room. In fact, I was pretty sure I'd want to join in if they'd let me. Trey and TJ were two of the hottest guys on the whole soccer team. My dick hardened just thinking about the two of them naked together.
Nothing happened until a couple of days later when we ended up playing with each other when we were all in the shower together. After that we often slept together in the same bed and either jerked each other off or gave each other blowjobs whenever we wanted. I don't mean that we were having sex all the time. Sometimes I wanted to sleep by myself. Sometimes I slept with Trey, and some of the times that TJ stayed out at our house he slept in my bed with me or by himself. When Ryan stayed over on the weekends, we all slept in our separate beds out of respect for him. All we ever did was mutual masturbation and blowjobs. We never had anal intercourse with each other. Both Trey and TJ said they wanted their first times to be with someone they loved. I respected that although I would have gladly let either one of them have my ass any time they wanted. It had been well used, and I knew I'd like it with one of them because I even liked it with a couple of the truckers who'd taken a little more time and had been kind to me.
The day after Trey and TJ told me they were gay, Coach asked me to stay downstairs after dinner to talk. That was when he told me he was gay too. Man, that really rocked my socks. I was just getting used to the idea that I wasn't the only queer kid on the soccer team when I found out that Coach was also gay. I was living in a house full of gay guys! It was great! We could call each other `fag' or `queer' or put on a fake lisp, and it was all in fun. When my old man had called me those names, he was trying to hurt me.
It still took me a couple of weeks to work up the courage to tell Trey and TJ about what my dad had made me do at the truck stop. I wasn't sure they'd understand or accept that I'd been a male whore, but they'd been honest with me, and I had to be honest with them.
We were all doing homework up in Trey's room after dinner. Trey was at the desk; TJ was sprawled on the bed; and I was lying on the futon. I finished the geometry problem I'd been working on, took a deep breath, and began, "Uh, guys, I need to talk to you about something."
Trey turned around from the desk, "Sure, man. What's up?"
"Guys, I've got to tell you what was happening before I came to live here. This is going to be hard for me, and I'm afraid you guys will be upset and not want to have me around anymore."
TJ swung his feet off the bed and sat up. He patted the bed beside him, "What ever it is, it'll be easier to talk about if you're sitting over here."
I went over and sat down next to TJ. Trey came over from the desk and sat on my other side. They both put their arms around my shoulders.
"Okay, tell us."
I swallowed hard and started. "You guys don't know all of what was going on with my parents and me. My dad started pushing drugs at the truck stop when I was about twelve. At first he'd take me down with him a couple of times a week. Later on it was almost every night. He sold meth to the truckers...and he sold me also."
I felt Trey's arm tighten around my shoulder.
"I gave blow jobs for ten dollars to the truckers. For twenty-five they could fuck me. For thirty-five they could fuck me without a rubber. I had to give all the money to my dad. I know you'll hate me now, but I had to tell you."
Trey leaned closer and said softly, "I knew about the truckers, Isaac. I saw you one night at the truck stop. It's okay. You're here with us now, and you're safe."
I pulled away and looked at Trey. "You know! I know that Coach saw me, but I didn't know you had too."
"Yes, Parker and I were late coming back from Charlotte one night, and we stopped there to get some gas. We saw you going from truck to truck and then back to your dad's car."
"You never said anything."
"I figured you'd tell me about it when you were ready."
I looked at TJ. "Did you know?"
He shook his head. "No. I didn't know the full story until just now. I knew your dad was involved with drugs and that he'd kicked you so you ended up in the hospital."
"Do you hate me now?"
He reached over, put his hand behind my neck, and drew me close so our foreheads were touching. "I don't hate you. In fact, knowing the whole story makes me prouder to be your friend. You put up with some shit that would break most people. You've got a lot of courage. I'm glad you told us."
Well, I lost it right then and there. I started bawling like a baby. Trey and TJ held me until I stopped crying.
I was exhausted emotionally when I finished crying. TJ went over and turned off the lights and stripped off his clothes as he came back toward the bed. Trey sat me up and helped me out of my clothes before pulling off his own, and then the three of us climbed under the covers and settled down to go to sleep.
Sandwiched between my two best friends, I said a silent prayer thanking God for being able to live with Coach and for friends like Trey and TJ. For the first time in my life, I knew I was really loved.
The week before the start of soccer practice in August Isaac had his last blood test for HIV. The previous ones had been negative so reason told us that this one would be negative also, but the cubs and I were still worried about it.
I met Isaac, Trey, and TJ at Dr. Kalian's office. They sat together in the waiting room. Isaac was in the middle. Every minute or so as we waited Trey or TJ would make a point to touch Isaac on the arm or shoulder. To most of the others in the waiting room, those gestures probably looked like three teenage buddies joshing around with each other. I knew the touches were a way of telling Isaac that his fellow "cubs" were there for him no matter what.
When the nurse called Isaac's name both Trey and TJ patted him on the shoulder. I walked back to the examination room with him. Dr. Kalian came in with a huge smile on his face. We knew this last test had been negative also.
Joe May and I were pleased with the turnout for the first soccer practice. Ricky Jordan and Christopher Harris had graduated. Their leadership on the team would be hard to replace, but the new freshmen looked good. In addition to Ryan Ladd who was now officially on the team there were three other freshmen who stood out that first day: Ward Furr, Brandon Leach, and Tyrone Jackson.
Ward Furr was a wiry kid with dark hair and eyes who couldn't have been more than 5' 4" and 110 pounds, but what he lacked in size he made up for in hustle. Brandon Leach was a tall blond kid who moved with grace and determination on the field. Of the three, Tyrone Jackson was the most promising...and the most perplexing. He said he'd just moved to town from Miami, Florida. It seemed clear that he wasn't completely happy with that situation. He projected a "city hard" attitude that wasn't winning him any friends with the other guys on the team, but by the end of the first practice they all had to respect his talent as a player. Tyrone was tall for his age. I guessed his height at about 6' 1" with a lanky build that showed the promise of an impressive mature physique. He was obviously from mixed parentage with a medium brown complexion, curly black hair cut close on the sides and longer on top. His eyes were piercing black coals set in a strong face with wide lips. He was the only guy in the showers who was uncircumcised. His dick was about four inches long and fairly thick. His foreskin covered the entire head leaving a small pucker of extra skin at the end. He had a thick dark pubic bush that framed his cock and balls.
Tyrone's skin-covered dick drew a lot of attention in the showers. I noticed it, and so did he. I realized that the guys had probably never seen an uncircumcised penis before so their curiosity was innocent. Tyrone, however, became defensive.
I could see he was growing uncomfortable with the attention. His posture stiffened. His jaw was set. I needed to do something.
I stepped into the middle of the shower room. "Okay, men, turn off the showers and sit down! We're going to have a team meeting."
The veterans on the team immediately complied. They were used to my shower room lectures. The freshmen were a little confused at first, but they quickly followed the lead of the upperclassmen and plunked their naked butts down on the shower floor.
"Men, you're making one of your teammates very uncomfortable." I walked over to Tyrone and held out my hand. I pulled him to his feet, put my arm around his shoulder, and turned both of us to face the rest of the team in the steamy room. "Tyrone, if you look around the room, you'll notice that all the guys are circumcised. That's normal in this area. You're probably the first guy they've ever seen with an intact foreskin. They're just curious. That curiosity is natural, and they aren't trying to intimidate you or anything. We're pretty open in here about our bodies. You'll see guys with erections, and you'll see guys washing the mud and grime off their teammates. We're brothers on the team; we watch out for each other in here, on the field, and in school.
"Look around the room. Some of your teammates have smaller penises and some have bigger penises. Some guys have a lot of pubic hair, and others don't have much hair yet. Some of you are starting to have an erection just because I'm talking about it. Tyrone has the same equipment you do. He just has some skin over the head of his. It works the same way otherwise."
I leaned over and spoke to Tyrone. "Will you trust me?"
His coal-dark eyes narrowed, but he nodded his head slightly.
I turned back to the rest of the team. "Pay attention, men. Tyrone's going to show you how his works. Then we can get back to finishing our showers."
Tyrone nodded his head to me again in understanding. Then he reached down to the base of his cock and pulled the skin back exposing the dickhead. He let go and his foreskin moved back up covering the glans. He pulled the skin back again. Every eye in the room was on Tyrone's penis.
I gently slapped him on the back. "Okay, men, the demonstration is over. Finish your showers and be back here tomorrow morning at 6:00 for the morning run before school."
I walked out of the shower to my office to dress. Joe May followed.
"Parker, I'll say it again. You've got more guts than I'd have. I think you did just what was necessary to defuse Tyrone."
"Well, I hope he realizes that the guys were just curious."
"I hope so too. Guess we'll find out if he shows up for the run tomorrow morning."
Tyrone did show up for the run the next morning. He didn't have as much of the "street" attitude as he'd evidenced the day before. His verbal putdowns and trash talk were not as pointed as they had been, and the rest of the guys were just a little warmer to him. Carterville wasn't used to the kind of hard edged give and take used by its newest resident.
Tyrone was in my second period government class. He was alone as he walked into the class. He walked to the back of the room and slumped into a desk. His attitude was back big time. His entire body language cried out that he didn't want to be there. Even the other students noticed and gave Tyrone a wide berth.
Beginning the previous year the soccer team practices had begun to attract an interested group of parents and fans who parked at the edge of the field and watched the practice. Some like Sheriff "Red" Stuart would gather on the sidelines to be closer to the action when the weather was pleasant. Others watched from their vehicles. That afternoon I noticed a new "watcher". A white Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows was parked a little away from all the others. When we finished practice, and I told the guys to hit the showers, the Escalade pulled away. The same thing happened every practice session for the next two weeks. The big SUV was there when we started but left as soon as practice was over. That struck me as odd. Most of the "watchers" were fathers or grandfathers of the players. The ones whose boys couldn't drive yet usually stayed around to pick up their kids after they'd showered, and I already knew most of the parents of the older guys on the team. Ward Furr and Brandon Leach's fathers had become "watchers." They stayed around to give their boys rides home. I'd noticed Tyrone being picked up by a white haired woman who drove a silver Toyota Avalon.
Our first match was at home. The white Escalade was there. My guys easily handled the opponents. As soon as the match was over, the Escalade drove away.
The next week, our match was out of town. Darn if the same white SUV wasn't there. Again the distinctive truck left as soon as we won the match.
Now my curiosity was aroused. The following Monday, the big white Cadillac was there again. I also noticed Red Stuart among the small crowd of "watchers" gathered at mid field. I asked Joe May to run the guys through a couple of drills and then walked over to the sheriff.
"Good afternoon, Sheriff. Can I ask you about something?"
"Why sure, Coach. Whaddaya need?"
"Well, I don't know if this is any thing, but see that white Cadillac SUV over by the fence?"
"Well, that same vehicle has been at every practice and match so far this year, but no one ever gets out of the car to watch. It just seems sort of odd to me, and I was wondering if you could check it out for me."
Sheriff Stuart laid one of his big hands on my shoulder and smiled, "Coach, I appreciate that you're careful and you're watching out for the kids. Goodness knows there's a lot of nuts running around loose these days, but I can assure you the man in that vehicle is perfectly legitimate."
"Then why doesn't he get out of the car? I don't see the car around here when the guys are being picked up after practice. Is he connected with one of the guys on the team?"
"Well, Coach, I really can't say much more without invading the man's privacy, but I can tell you that you've got nothing to worry about with that vehicle."
It was clear Red Stuart wasn't going to provide any more information about the mystery vehicle so I thanked him for his information and returned to the team just as they were ending a drill.
The team really gelled over the next couple of weeks. We won the next four matches. I was especially pleased with the development of Ward Furr, Brandon Leach, and Tyrone Jackson. Each was gaining experience on the field and showed promise of being top-notch soccer players. Tyrone still displayed a little city "attitude" now and then, but the rest of the guys just let it slide off their back. The operating phrase was that Tyrone was just being Tyrone. He worked well with the team, but he didn't seem to pal around with anyone in particular, and the older woman in the Toyota Avalon was still picking him up each day after practice.
Our local "following" for the team was growing with every match. We had more and more people coming to home matches, and we even had a die-hard group that traveled to each of our out of town matches, including the white Cadillac Escalade that continued to be present at each practice and match.
The school's homecoming that fall was in mid October which is a magical time in the mountains of North Carolina. The weather is still pleasantly warm during the day with cool nights where you needed a light jacket. The trees were full of brilliantly colored leaves.
The annual soccer team apple sale for charity was a huge success, even getting a special write-up in the local paper which helped boost sales to $4,500 which was some $850 over the previous year's sales.
During soccer practice on the Monday after Homecoming, I noticed Sheriff Stuart walk over to the mystery Cadillac SUV. The darkly tinted driver's window slid down. The sheriff and the occupant of the car appeared to carry on a friendly conversation for a few minutes before Red Stuart walked back over to the rest of the group of fathers, grandfathers, and uncles who were watching the team practice. The window of the SUV remained down after Red Stuart left.
I saw an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity. I asked Joe May to keep the guys busy with another drill and walked toward the big white Cadillac. As I approached the vehicle, I could make out the form of a man in sunglasses with dark hair and a full beard. The guy was so intent on watching the soccer practice that he didn't notice my approach. I was about twenty feet away when I saw his head shift as he took notice of my approach. The driver's window began to move upward obscuring my view, but then it stopped and came down again.
I reached the side of the white truck and extended my hand. "Hi. I'm Parker Arnold, the soccer coach. I've noticed you everyday here at practice and at the matches, and I just wanted to meet you to say thanks for your support of the team."
Somewhat reluctantly the man extended his right hand out of the window. His hand was larger than mine. The grip was warm and firm. I could feel the tell tale calluses of someone who worked with weights.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Arnold. I'm Robert Marquez."
I noticed a slight accent like that of someone who had learned English in early adolescence. Because of his surname, I assumed he was Hispanic.
There was an awkward pause. Marquez had dark, almost black hair, with a neatly trimmed full beard. He wore dark glasses so I couldn't see his eyes, but he had a straight nose and strong cheekbones. He was an attractive man, without the beard and glasses he might have been extremely handsome. It was hard to tell his age without seeing his eyes, but my guess was that he was in his early thirties.
I broke the silence. "Can I ask why you're interested in the soccer team, Mr. Marquez?"
There was another pause as if he were considering whether or not to respond. "My son is on your team, Mr. Arnold. I'm here to watch him."
"We don't have a boy named Marquez on the team."
"No. My son and I have different last names. If you will excuse me, Mr. Arnold, I have some business I must attend to." He nodded toward the cell phone lying on the passenger's seat. The tinted window silently closed, and I was left looking at the dark glass.
I turned and strode back to the team with words like `rude', `arrogant', and `sonofabitch' running through my head. I knew most of the parents of the guys on the team by sight at least. It wasn't hard to figure out which one was Marquez's son.
That night at dinner I decided to do a little fishing.
"What do you guys know about Tyrone Jackson? Has he told anyone about why he moved here?"
As normal TJ was eating with us. "I've never heard him say very much about his family. He gets a ride each day from some older woman. She looks sort of too old to be his mother. I figured maybe he lived with his grandparents."
Isaac was next, "I don't see him hanging around with anyone except the guys on the soccer team. I think I heard him say that he'd lived in Miami. I get the impression that he isn't too happy about being here."
Trey said, "He told me that his mother died last spring, and then he went to live with his dad up in Chicago. His dad and him moved down here from Chicago. He also said something about an aunt that lives with them. I think he might be gay."
I wasn't surprised that Trey had more information than the rest of us. I also wasn't surprised that he hadn't shared that information until now. "How do you know?"
"I saw him really checking out some of the guys on the team. You know, sort of leering at them in the shower like TJ does."
"You dork. I don't leer at the guys in the shower. At least not much anyway."
Isaac grinned, "I saw you washing Ryan O'Herron's back the other day."
"Hey, that was because he'd strained his shoulder in that tumble at the match. He was sore. I was just helping out a buddy."
"Right! And your hands just happened to slip down onto his ass."
TJ blushed. "Yeah, well, I had to get something out of it. Besides, he's got a nice ass."
I threw up my hands. "That's too much information, guys!" I turned back to Trey, "How did you find out about Tyrone's mother?"
"He looked really down one day at lunch so I asked him what the problem was. He kinda looked like he was going to cry so we walked outside. He told me that his mother had died last spring, and it was her birthday that day. We talked for quite a while. It's the only time I've seen him with his guard down."
`Well,' I thought, `that does explain a few things.'
Two weeks after that I was taking some forms from my ninth grade class to the guidance office. The counselor wasn't in, so I put the packet of completed forms in the center of her desk where she'd be sure to see them when she came back. She had several student folders on the desk, and I noticed Tyrone Jackson's was on top of the pile. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I opened the folder and glanced at some of the information.
It more or less confirmed what Trey had said before. Tyrone's parents were listed as Charmaine G. Jackson, who was deceased, and Roberto Enrique Marquez-Castro. Along with Marquez, Elena Maria Castro-Martin was listed as a contact in case of emergency.
The address listed wasn't too far from my house so that evening after practice I drove out there. I didn't see the house. What I saw was a large gate across a driveway leading up the hill and into the woods. I pulled off the road into the driveway. There was a call box on one of the stone supports for the gate. A fence with big "No Trespassing" signs ran parallel to the road. Mr. Marquez was serious about his privacy!
That evening I was correcting some tests on the kitchen table. Trey and Isaac were upstairs doing their homework.
TJ came into the kitchen. "Hey, Coach, would it be okay if I watched the TV. The Bulls and the Suns are playing tonight. I'll keep the sound down low."
"You done with your homework?"
He gave me a mock hurt look. "Do you seriously think I'd blow off homework to watch a game?"
I smiled back at him. "I think you might."
He came over and gave me a hug. "Well, not tonight. I got everything done. Can I watch the game?"
"No problem. I'll be done here in a few minutes, and then I'll join you."
"Great. I like the Bulls, but they just haven't been the same without Berto." He headed into the other room.
I stared at his retreating back. In a flash, I knew who Tyrone Jackson's father was and maybe part of the reason he was so serious about his privacy.
Something was not right during soccer practice the next day. Tyrone had his attitude back, and the rest of the team was distracted. I wasn't sure if it was because of Tyrone or something else. Joe May noticed, and remarked about it. Trey, Isaac, and TJ were clearly upset. I let things go for almost an hour before calling a halt and sending everyone in to the locker room for a team meeting.
On the way in, I grabbed Trey. "What the hell was going on out there today?"
"Some of the guys are getting down on Tyrone."
"I can see that, and I can see how Tyrone's reacting. Why?"
"Ryan O'Herron told a couple of the guys that Tyrone gave him a blow job in one of the bathrooms during lunch. They're calling Tyrone a fag. It's really pissing me off."
I sighed. "Okay, I'll take care of it. Just go on in with the rest of the guys."
The team was sitting in the locker room. Tyrone was off by himself. Trey, TJ, Isaac, and TJ's brother Ryan were sitting together as another separate group.
"All right, men, what happened to the team? We've got one more match before the tournament, and the way you were playing out there today even the worst team in the league would be able to whip our butts. What's going on?"
No one answered.
"Ryan O'Herron, would you tell me what's going on with this team?"
He looked down at his shoes.
"Ryan, I'm waiting for an explanation."
"It...it's about Jackson, Coach."
"What about Tyrone?"
"Well, he's a queer."
"Do you mean that he's homosexual?"
"And how do you know that, Ryan?"
"Ryan, we're waiting."
"He...he gave me a blow job."
"And that means he's gay?"
"Yeah. Only gay guys do that."
"Is that so? I think the evidence indicates that nearly half of adult American males have had a sexual encounter with another man at least once in their lives. With most it's mutual masturbation, but with an awful lot of guys that encounter or encounters include oral sex. Let me ask you, Ryan, did you enjoy it?"
"You know what I mean. Did you enjoy having your penis sucked? Did you have an erection? Did you ejaculate?"
"Does that mean you're gay?"
"No! No way!"
"But you enjoyed it."
"Then why punish Tyrone for doing something to you which you enjoyed. Most men enjoy getting a good blowjob or fellatio, and a lot of men enjoy performing fellatio as well.
"What's important to the team? Is it whether or not one of the players gives or receives a blow job? Does it matter if a player is straight or gay, or is it how that player handles himself on the field and how he helps the team?"
Trey stood up and moved over to stand behind Tryone. He placed his hand on Tyrone's shoulder, looked up to the rest of the guys, and said, "I like getting blow jobs, and I like giving them. Does that mean I'm not a good soccer player?"
TJ and Isaac moved over to stand with Trey and Tyrone. They rested their hands on Tyrone's shoulder just like Trey had.
"I'll admit that I like to give as well as receive."
I swallowed hard before speaking again. "Okay, men, you all need to decide what it means to be part of a team. I've told you before that members of a team look out for one another. They care for one another, and they value each person for what that person can contribute to the team effort. They don't let small stuff get in the way of the success of the team.
"Coach May and I are going into the office. You guys need to talk among yourselves. When you're ready, you come tell us what you're going to do about the match this week and the tournament that's coming up in two weeks."
I turned and walked out of the locker room. Joe followed
"Jesus, Parker, what the hell just happened?" Joe exploded when we were safely behind the closed doors of the coaches' office.
"Well, I think one guy was outed and three others outed themselves. Are you going to be okay with that?"
"Do you mean with some of the guys on the team being gay? Yeah, I'm okay with that. They're all good kids."
"Are you okay with the idea that the coach is gay too?"
I figured that would stop him in his tracks. He never even blinked. "Parker, I've thought you might be gay, and it's not a problem for me. I had a brother who was gay. He killed himself rather than come out to our parents. The really sad thing is that our parents already knew, and it wouldn't have made a difference. They were just waiting for him to tell them. No kid should have to live with the fear of being rejected because of his or her sexual orientation.
"I just hope the guys on the team are mature enough to pull together for this."
"I hope so too. Guess we'll know soon enough."
(To be continued)