Date: Sat, 12 Aug 2000 10:44:24 -0500
From: Willy B <haztech@email.msn.com>
Subject: Flip pt7

Flip
Part 7

        "Philip?" Mrs. Nevins banged on her son's bedroom door, glancing at
her watch. "You're going to be late! Get up!... Philip?" She smiled
inwardly when his inarticulate voice filtered through the wood. If he had
tried to say, "Yeah, Mom, I'm up," it had come out, "Yeaz, muuhohm...." and
trailed off. She almost found herself giggling as she jiggled the cup of
ice-water in her hand. This last was his second and last warning to get up
and she was ready now. Their little `ritual' had started two years ago,
after he'd missed two days of school by oversleeping. She'd threatened him
with this particular torture and he'd called her bluff. Boy, was he
surprised the next morning!
        She cautiously opened the door to peek inside. He was usually
awake, had worked out, and was ready to go by now, but today he was
threatening to make them both late if he didn't hurry up! She almost let
him get away with it this time. He obviously hadn't slept very well,
judging by the covers scattered around his sun reddened body, lying face
down, with its head and arm draped over the edge of the mattress. She
sighed quietly as she really noticed the way his white briefs contrasted
with the red and his dark, scattered, bruises. He'd been cursed with her
genes as far as being able to tan went. She could only hope one of his
thousand plus freckles didn't turn into something more serious later. He
burned worse than she did!
        She started to turn to leave. She had to get going to her follow-up
at her doctor's office. She'd been glad to have him out of the house while
she'd had the biopsy done to her breast; some things he didn't need to know
about yet. She stopped suddenly and crossed over to him and trailed her
hand over his hot skin, examining the black art that circled his arm. She'd
thought it had been a trick of the light at first and was dismayed to see
it was never going to `wipe' off.
        She fought back her first reaction to scream at him and ground him
until he was thirty; it wouldn't do any good now! Besides, she'd been the
one to send him out into the world on his own last week. Well, not exactly
on his own. She began to wonder just how much Michael and his friends had
to do with this. `Oh, hell!' she thought to herself. `At least it was
something classy and not some stupid heart with a bimbo's name in it.'
Still....
        "OK, sailor!" she upended the cup and watched as her son jumped
violently as the water and ice struck his bare skin. "Enough sleep! Time to
get up! It's raining, you'll be late!"
        "Fuck...Shit!" Philip cringed suddenly as the ice-water didn't
bounce off, but instead seemed to hug his body as it flowed down to envelop
him. The trail of ice and water that followed his spine down to the crack
of his ass was particularly annoying. "I mean, I'm up, I'm up!"
        "I'm sorry...." He found himself blushing, making himself even
redder, as he realized what his first words had been and who was standing
over him. He'd tried to never, never cuss around his mom and now he'd let
loose with a couple of the worst! He kicked himself mentally, he certainly
knew how to make his mom happy with him! He blearily glanced at his
clock-radio through his crusty eyes. She'd been right, he would have to
hurry!
        "That's what I thought you said." She let his outburst of language
go. He'd never even sneezed without asking first when he'd been around her
adult friends and child clients. Besides, she laughed openly, she had gone
out of her way to get a rise out of him and couldn't really complain when
it worked too well. "Get ready for school. I have to leave early this
morning."
        "Thanks, mom." She continued to smile as she watched her
disgruntled son sit up in his cold, soaked underwear. Suddenly his hand
clutched his upper arm and he blushed yet again. No wonder he acted stupid
sometimes, she thought, all his blood was leaving his brain so he could
blush!
        "Don't bother, sailor, I've seen it...We'll talk about it tonight."
She pitched her voice higher, to soften her tone, as she thought about
their possible subjects to cover that night. "You've got all day to come up
with an excuse." She turned to leave, shaking her head at the wonder of it
all. "I'll wait until you're ready before I go. So hurry up!"

        Philip finally breathed out a sigh of relief as he pulled into a
space in the school parking lot, watching the rain falling in heavy
sheets. He hated driving in the rain. It's not as if he had much experience
driving yet and had almost none in the rain. At least he handled his one
skid around a corner OK and there wasn't anyone around to see his error. He
continued to watch the rain, hoping it would slack away before he'd have to
make a run for the doors. He could only smirk at himself; he'd have to
maneuver around the buses unloading, and like everybody else he knew,
didn't know what a raincoat was, much less an umbrella.
        He sighed again, thinking of the yellow slicker the fire department
had issued for dealing with flood emergencies when they couldn't wear their
heavy fire gear, not that he'd be caught dead around that kind of
call. He'd had enough of water over his head last week, even with a life
jacket, but at least the department's attitude about protection wasn't
dictated by macho fashions.
        Finally deciding the rain wasn't going to let up any time soon,
Philip grabbed his books and hurtled out of his car, dashing through it all
to come to a skidding stop under the awning by the doors. "Damn!" Philip
shook his head violently. One of the teacher monitors turned away,
smiling. The kid looked more like a redheaded retriever coming out of a
lake right then, content to spray water everywhere.
        "Flip!" He heard the female voice yell at the top of her lungs and
saw the dark-skinned cheerleader running at him as fast as her jeans would
let her through the cafeteria. "Catch me!"
        Philip just had time to react as he caught her outstretched form
diving head first at him, scattering his books in the process. "Hi, Lash!"
he grunted at Lashonda Lewis as her weight pulled on his arms and damaged
rib, causing him to wince. "Oh, God."
        "Hey!" she exclaimed, laughing, as he quickly lowered her to a
standing position and gingerly bent to retrieve his books. "I'm not that
heavy...What you been up to all last week? Besides fighting again, that
is."
        "Nothing." Philip quietly finished pulling his stuff together. It
was just like Lash to act like she'd been separated from everybody she knew
for years instead of just a week. "I was out of town."
        "And?" She looked at him with a strange glint in her eyes as she
probed. It was a favorite challenge of hers. Flip never volunteered
anything about himself.
        "And what?" Philip cautiously glanced around the cafeteria. The
only other person looking their way, now that he'd put Lash down, was
Jeff. All the other guys he'd joined the department with had their backs to
him, keeping Jamie's promise to leave him alone. He'd have to think of a
way to try to make things up to them, and Jeff and Peter in
particular. Maybe he could make the time to approach them at lunch. The
look on Jeff's face was making him too nervous right now, it was totally
unreadable.
        "Did you get hooked up with anyone?" She stared, curiosity
piqued. He wasn't reacting the way he had in the past to her game. He was
on edge all of a sudden instead of just blowing her off like he usually
did.
        "No." He started to let it stop there but defensively continued, "I
just went with an old friend from back home."
        "Good. I still have a chance." She continued to smile through her
confusion at him. "I thought you were home?"
        "This place?" Philip could only look back as the bile rose in his
throat. "This place will never be home. I was talking about...Ah, never
mind. Besides, what'll your boyfriend say?" He let his bitterness fade as
he redirected the focus of the conversation back onto familiar territory.
        "I meant I still have a chance to get you hooked up." She had
appointed herself the school's matchmaker. Even Philip had to admit she was
good at it, she thought, which was probably why he'd avoided these
conversations as much as possible. The more she thought about him, the more
she couldn't figure it out. How could someone so `on stage' be so shy
otherwise? Most of the other kids involved in drama were `hams' all the
time. Flip just seemed to turn it off as soon as he entered the real
world. "So, tell me your type."
        "You know me..." Philip sighed, quietly tiring of the game she
constantly played with him, when she wasn't distracted by more successful
projects, "...I don't have a ty...."
        "Fuck!" the loud voice cut through the atmosphere, instantly
drawing Philip's attention to that and the sound of impact and clatter of
aluminum against tile.
        "Goddamnit...Fuck!" Gabriel Martin (Marty) Miller angrily threw one
of his crutches against an empty table leg hard! He hated the damn things
and the wet floor hadn't helped one bit. He breathed hard, his black hair
framing his red face, as the grinning and laughter spread around him. It
was bad enough to have to change schools without this happening!
        His mom and dad had been separated at the time they'd had the
accident with that train. She'd come to pick them up from visiting their
father, drunk as usual, so he'd been forced behind the wheel. Then he'd
missed that shift and stalled them. The next thing he knew, his lower leg
was gone, he was living with his dad and little brother who didn't want
him, and all his friends were on the other side of the school district.
        "Hey, dickhead!" Philip quickly crossed to retrieve the formerly
innocent crutch and returned it. "What brings you over here?"
        "A bus. Asshole!" Marty couldn't help but smile a little, through
his anger, at the redheaded kid who'd tormented him while he did the same
when he'd been stuck in the hospital. At least he knew someone here. "How
else would I get here?"
        "OK," Philip smirked, taken aback by the weird `Marty' response to
his question. "Are you all right? Your vocabulary is as good as ever."
        "I can't argue." Marty cautiously accepted the hand up and retested
his crutches on the slick floor. His temporary prosthetic leg had felt like
it wanted to twist when he fell but the plastic inner sleeve had done its
job and protected his stump. "I don't have a leg to stand on."
        "Ahem..." Lashonda quietly tapped Philip on his shoulder. She'd
watched the brief interchange closely, putting two and two together. Her
older sister had `come out' two years ago, and though she didn't want to
come to any conclusions, Flip wasn't very good at projecting a `poker
face'. She didn't think he'd ever had to before. He'd always cut off his
contacts before he got into this type of situation. If she was right, it
would explain a lot. She just hoped that if Flip was gay, he knew it. At
least their `nicknames' for each other seemed accurate enough from what
she'd seen so far and Flip seemed safe for the moment; nobody else was
watching any more, "...are you going to introduce me?"
        "Er...ah...sorry." Philip tried to fight back the blush he felt
forming.
        "Yeah, asshole." Marty recentered his backpack on his shoulders and
looked down, trying to turn his leg so his foot didn't look so turned
out. "Introduce me."
        "OK, fine." Philip stared back. God, this was like the last time
they'd been around each other. Each doing their best to get on each other's
nerves. At least it had become a more good- natured situation than it had
started out. Besides, he knew Marty hated his first name. "This dickhead is
Gabriel Miller." His pleasure at seeing Marty's scowl was cut short,
though.
        "And I'm Mr. Alexander, the Assistant Principal." They heard the
deep voice behind them. "Why don't you two follow me to the office!"
        "Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to,...." Lashonda
quickly ducked away, singing her role as Mary Magdalene, lending them her
moral support. She shook her head slightly, smiling. Philip with an
honest-to-God possible friend! What was the world coming to?

        Philip nervously walked into the cafeteria, glancing around as
everybody was taking their usual places to tackle whatever they'd bought or
brought for lunch. He knew he'd go hungry today. His stomach was too busy
turning somersaults for him to eat. He'd put off saying anything to the
other guys until now, but he couldn't put it off any longer. His biggest
regret was that Marty had the second lunch period while he had the
first. He'd been hoping that if his approach to the others failed, he'd at
least still have someone to sit with.
        He shook his head at himself. He was drawing at straws where Marty
was concerned; it was nuts to think the thoughts he was thinking. Hell, the
only time he'd ever see him would be in detention that afternoon before he
went to rehearsal. Mr. Alexander hadn't made much sense when he'd passed
judgment. He knew Philip would be staying after school already and had
split his time between the two activities.
        Marty, on the other hand, had acted terrified of the prospect of
detention on his first day at his new school and of his dad finding
out. Philip couldn't understand why Marty acted the way he did. He'd talked
to his dad once and he'd seemed OK at the time. At least he didn't come
across like Philip's dad had, speaking with his belt. Philip's eyes finally
settled on the group of former acquaintances and, squaring his shoulders
and courage, made his way through the crowded room.
        "Uh...Hey guys..." Philip shifted from foot to foot, "...can I talk
to you?"
        "No. Go away." Jamie spoke for the group, not bothering to turn
around. "You made your bed, now you can sleep in it. We don't want to know
you any more."
        "OK...I...." Philip quietly searched the faces he could see,
looking for any sign of hope, "...I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I acted
like an ass. I thought I didn't need friends...." Philip's voice trailed
into silence. They weren't going to listen to him. "Jeff? ....Peter? How
can I make it up to you?"
        "You want to do something for me?" Jeff glanced up at him, his
features alternating between disgust and hate. "Quit the Department! Then
I'll keep what I saw at your house last night to myself. Otherwise, the
whole school will know who I saw you kissing."
        "I didn't kiss anybody." Philip felt himself rocked back on his
heels as the blood drained from his face. How could he have been so stupid
to do anything outside, but Mike was leaving and who knew when they'd see
each other again. Philip's temper tried to rise as he fought it back with
all the will he could muster, his body shaking with the effort.
        "Whatever." Jeff glanced at Peter, then back, his features twisted
into a sneer. "I just know what I saw and so will everybody else if you
don't quit."
        Philip stood, staring back at Jeff, unbelieving. This couldn't be
happening to him! His mind was screaming at him and his muscles burned to
wipe that sneer off of Jeff's face but he'd vowed to walk away from
confrontations. He turned and left the others before his impulse to strike
out became irresistible. The bridge he'd hoped to rebuild with Jeff and the
others was never going to happen.
        He felt like he could already feel everybody's eyes burning into
his back as he left to find a quiet corner to retreat to. He needed time to
think but could find no way out. He felt the darkness comfortably envelop
his brain, beckoning him home where he belonged, as he thought about Mike
and Nick and how he'd already failed them, failed himself. He was alone
again!

        "Flip?" Lashonda followed him into the dark auditorium, almost
running into the first row of seats where he sank. She'd seen him stalk
away from the guys he'd been hanging with since the football season
ended. The cold, unseeing gaze in his eyes scared her. She kicked herself
mentally for not paying closer attention to what Jeff had tried to tell
Eric, but her boyfriend had just blown him off, saying nothing in
return. "Philip?...Philip! Wait!"
        "Hey, Lash." She heard Philip's quiet, emotionless voice in the
dark where his invisible form sat unmoving.
        "What the hell's going on?" She finally maneuvered to sit next to
him.
        "Nothing," Philip whispered. "We just had a fight. That's all. I
tried...."
        "Everybody knows about the fight you had." She reached to find his
hand only to have it pull away suddenly. "Those guys will come around."
        "No, they won't." Philip's voice broke slightly as his buried
emotions surfaced in spite of his efforts to keep them suppressed. "It's
over."
        "So? What are you going to do?" Lash found his hand again and
forced it to remain in hers. She'd never seen him like this. He'd always
been a fighter in the past. It was like his spirit had been beaten out of
him.
        "I need to see Mr. Craig..." Philip slumped further into his
seat. What use was fighting? Where did it get him? "...tell him I'm
quitting...Eddie can do it instead. Probably better than I can."
        "It's too late for that," she continued quietly, even though her
feeling of unease was growing. "The role is yours. You made it
yours. Nobody else wants it, after hearing you. What are you going to do?
...Quit living because you had some stupid fight with those guys?"
        "You don't understand!" Philip felt his anger rise and pulled it
inward, sighing. "I just don't care any more. I tried to...."
        "Then make me understand!" She shot back her challenge. "Why would
the kid who always fights to make what he does perfect, suddenly want to
lay down and die? This isn't like you!"
        "I'm a fag!" Philip shot back involuntarily, eyes blazing in the
dark. "Are you happy now? Go away! You can tell all your friends before
Jeff does!"
        "Not only no, but hell no!" Lash couldn't help but smile through
her emotional turmoil. She was glad he couldn't see her. He would probably
take it the wrong way. "I don't care! Besides, where else am I going to
find somebody I trust to look up my dress all night and not drop me?"
        "But..." Philip's confusion was evident as he started to speak.
        "But nothing," she continued in a more subdued manner. "Your secret
is safe with me, and Jeff had better think twice before he hurts the `lone
ranger' on our squad. The rest of us would kill him." She reached up with
the back of her hand, she didn't want to poke him in the eye accidentally,
to stroke his face. "You know? I think I have the perfect guy for you."
        "What?" Philip's head was spinning, trying to make sense of the
change in their conversation. Her reaction didn't make any sense to
him. "Who?"
        "Oh, Flip. Really!" she was enjoying this, now that the tension
seemed to lift slightly. "Open your eyes! That Gabriel kid has definitely
got it for you bad! Almost as bad as you've got it for him."
        "I don't think...." Philip felt his panic returning.
        "Flip! Trust me." Lashonda could feel the flush of heat from his
face and smiled. That was one of his best features. It had made the members
of the squad, including herself, just want to squeeze him tighter. "You've
been my greatest challenge, finding someone for my hunky little Flip! I'm
not going to screw it up now. Just don't quit, nobody likes a quitter."
        "I don't know if I can...." Philip squirmed uncomfortably, trying
to move away but not really wanting to.  Mike, Nick, and the others seemed
so far away now. He'd been so alone during that last confrontation and now
this! What had she seen that he hadn't?
        "Of course you can," she reassured him quietly. "You need to see
the world with new eyes; at least open the ones you've got." She released
the sigh she'd been holding. "The only thing is,...Eddie will be
disappointed if you and Gabriel do get together. He's wanted to get into
your pants all year."
        "How...?" Philip jerked suddenly at her laughter. It was the last
thing he'd expected. He'd cut himself off so completely, he didn't
recognize these people any more. He could only guess that he'd never really
bothered to know any of them.
        "He told me, silly." She couldn't help but keep giggling at him. At
that moment she was sure she knew more about her secretive associate than
anyone else in the world. It was almost enough to make her feel
giddy. "You've been driving him crazy. Especially when you rub your cute
belly under your shirt."
        "He told you?" Philip guiltily moved his free hand back into the
open. Damn, he hadn't even realized he was doing that. Now he'd be
conscious of what his hands were doing all the time now! He swallowed
nervously. "Are you trying to tell me he loves me?"
        "No. It's nothing that serious." She calmed down to regard his last
question seriously. "In lust maybe, but he'd jump your bones in a heartbeat
if he could." She let her hand leave his to trail down to his knee. She was
surprised to feel his body lurch suddenly and brush her hand away. She just
sat quietly, waiting for the bell to call them to their next class, as she
evilly filed this latest finding away. It could come in handy later.

        "Glad you could finally join us." Mr. Craig regarded his
troublesome pupil with disdain. If he'd known the kid would be in trouble
with the vice principal, he'd have dropped him already. "Go check out your
costume with Mrs. M." He quickly turned back to the stage to run through a
couple of problems he'd seen with a few of the others who were already
dressed in theirs.
        Philip left Marty in the audience seats and proceeded quickly
backstage. When they left detention that afternoon, Philip had taken a deep
breath and invited Marty to come with him, saying he could provide an
excuse for his dad and a ride home if he needed one. Philip was glad they'd
had to remain silent during their time in the room. He wouldn't have been
very good company, otherwise. He spent the entire period trying to write
his letter of resignation from the Department but his language skills
deserted him.
        He tried different approaches over and over but it all came back to
thinking of, and explaining, the reasons he and the other boys couldn't
trust each other any more. He finally gave up and with a simple, `I'm sorry
but I resign,' left it at that. He'd carefully folded the `ending to one of
his dreams' away, carefully placing it in his notebook, and sat quietly
watching the clock tick away his remaining time as a firefighter.
        "Philip?" Mrs. Miller (No Relation) interrupted his disturbed
thoughts. "Are you all right? Not bashful?"
        "I'm OK." Philip smiled weakly. "Just nervous."
        "Don't be." Mrs.M, as everybody called her, patted him on his
arm. He winced, thinking about the hidden tattoo about to make its debut
along with the rest of him.
        "The robes should fit fine. The one that looks dirty is the one
with the tear-away back. You'll need to practice a quick change
today. It'll happen right before the second trial with Pilate." She
continued to smile reassuringly. "The rest doesn't really show that much of
you. In fact, you can still wear your underwear under it, though I would
suggest briefs when we get to the make-up part; that way you can stay
covered while it's put on. Don't worry, Philip. You'll be fine. Just relax
and ignore everybody." She quickly turned him and gave him a firm
push. "Your stuff is in my office. You can use it as your dressing room."

        Marty quietly fidgeted in his chair, crutches balanced precariously
on his knees. He'd been glad for the invitation to ride home with
Philip. Flip! He couldn't help but smile, through his unease, at the
redhead's nickname. He hadn't known that before. He just hoped when he got
home, his dad would be sober. He strangely found it important to give
Philip a good impression of his remaining family.
        His dad and mom had acted like they hated each other, but either
the accident or just being around him day to day had changed all that as
far as his dad was concerned. He couldn't understand why his father had
fought so hard to keep him out of jail, just to ignore him half the time
and get violently drunk the other. Between the two, though, he preferred
being ignored like he was with the rest of the family....
        "Hi, Gabriel, is it?" Lash stealthily wandered over to the slight
black-haired youth.
        "Not yet," Marty instinctively responded. "Call me Marty. I hate my
first name."
        "OK, Marty it is." She found herself almost falling into the kid's
deep black eyes. No wonder Flip had been attracted to him. "What did you
mean by `not yet'?"
        "Well, you said `high'..." Marty quietly wondered what Philip's
friend wanted with him. "...and I said `not'...never mind. It's not funny
if I have to explain it."
        "Whatever." She screwed up her face at him. If he wanted to `play',
she was ready for it. "So, how's it hangin?"
        "Down and to the left," Marty shot back, starting to relax. School
had always been his refuge from home until now. His past on the diving
board was over. Now he was just the crippled kid in his own mind. The
problem was that everybody else only saw the same thing. Everybody but
Philip, that is. Philip never let him get away with anything during their
time together. Well, he gave as good as he got anyway, even if he really
didn't know anything about him.
        "Good, right where it should." Lash regarded him for a second. "How
did you and Flip meet?"
        Marty sighed patiently and began his now overly familiar tale for
the fortieth or fiftieth time that day. He went ahead and pulled his left
pants leg up automatically so she could marvel in horror at the plastic and
aluminum that allowed him to stand up without falling over.
        He knew that eventually the crutches would go away and he'd be
walking like the accident had never happened. In fact, his new leg would
look cosmetically real but he'd never have a working ankle again and
couldn't imagine ever letting people see him without it, displaying his
naked stump.
        In fact, the last beating he'd received had been because he'd taken
scissors to almost every pair of shorts and swim trunks he'd owned, but in
the end it had been worth the pain. He didn't ever want to be reminded of
his fun times in the pool ever again. His dad had been so pissed at the
wasted money, he'd smashed every trophy Marty had ever earned off the
platform. Marty had just shrugged. It saved him the trouble.
        "I remember you," Lashonda broke in when he appeared to finish his
story. "I saw your picture in the paper a few times. Are you going out for
the team here, next year?"
        "Get real." Marty gave her a look that asked what planet she was
from. "This isn't some stupid Hollywood movie. How am I supposed to do
that?" He quietly shrugged as his bitterness drained away. "Besides, even
if I could, they wouldn't see me again. They'd just see a fake leg with a
body attached."
        Lash sat, quietly thinking for a while. She felt she'd screwed up,
his hurt was too fresh. Still, she had to believe that all things were
possible. She'd seen her older sister, a black lesbian woman, succeed in
her chosen profession and if she could do it with all those prejudices
against her, then everybody could. Besides, she still had to get these two
together. The offer of the ride home would help but she needed another
thing they could share.
        "Do you still swim?" She started on the tack she'd been thinking
about.
        "No." Marty glanced her way again. He thought he'd been through all
this already.
        "But you could?" her eyes narrowed at him as she smiled.
        "Yes, I suppose," his voice betrayed his exasperation. "But I
won't.... Why?"
        "Do you like Flip?" Lash gave him her most innocent act now, the
same one that had worked so many times in the past.
        "Yeah, I like him." Marty nervously shifted in his seat. He began
wondering who turned the heater on. "What does that have to do with me
swimming?"
        "Well, Flip told me he got pushed into a pool last week and almost
drowned." She smiled internally at Marty's shocked reaction. She was more
sure than ever that her initial impression of the two had been right. "I
was just thinking, why don't you offer to teach the damn fool how to
swim. He's too embarrassed to go to strangers."
        "I don't think so." Marty grimaced as he stared at his unfeeling
left foot. "I'm not ready to let anyone see me like this."
        "Nobody's going to see you." She sighed at the effort this was
taking. "My parents put in a pool last year. You two can use it." She
grinned then. "Anyway, if worst comes to worst, my dad's a doctor."
        "Woo, Flip! Show it, baby!" Marty was shocked back, by Lashonda's
sudden outburst, to the goings-on up on the stage where the players had
been silently working on their positions and actions, now that they had
their costumes. The upper portion of Philip's robe had been opened like it
was obviously designed to do and now lay folded over at his waist, barring
his upper torso. The whistles and catcalls were almost deafening as Marty
felt his own heart skip a few beats before he breathed out as it
restarted. What he saw raised his unconscious envy over his own skinny
frame. He'd been working at building himself up before the wreck but his
dad still called him `sparrow shouldered'. Maybe if he taught Philip how to
swim, he'd get Philip to show him how to work out properly. In the past,
he'd stayed in shape by swimming and helping his dad at his work sites,
helping to build houses.
        "What the hell is that!" Mr. Craig's voice cut through the previous
clamor like a knife, instantly silencing everybody. He really did like
Philip, had always thought of him as raw materiel to be shaped. The black
band on the kid's arm was the last straw, however. "Well?"
        Marty watched as everybody began shifting nervously, staring at
where the choral director stood. The center of everybody's scrutiny could
only stand rooted to his spot under the hot lights of the stage, his eyes
closed. He felt his own heart pounding in his chest with the sudden change
in attitude. He didn't know what the problem was but obviously the teacher
had a major problem with the tattoo circling Flip's arm.
        "What's wrong?" Marty turned back to Lashonda's stiff form. "It
looks OK to me."
        "Jesus with a tattoo?" Lash whispered through the side of her
mouth.
        "How could you be so stupid!" Mr. Craig continued, aggravated
further by the silence he received from the stage. "Well? Say something!"
        "I...I thought...." Philip started quietly as the real world
shattered the insulation the stage had so far provided for him. It had been
the one place he could lose himself in a character, "...we..."
        "You thought?" Mr. Craig brushed off the restraining hand
Mrs. Miller placed on his arm. "Tell us! What were you thinking about?
Besides yourself!"
        "I...I..." Marty watched his new friend struggling in front of
everybody, then look out toward the two teachers. Philip's eyes, that had
been hidden, now blazed with an anger that matched what he'd received.
        "I think this was a mistake!" Philip's voice became clear and
steady, cutting through the silence around him. He just wanted to be at his
house, for this day to be over. He pulled the robe back up over
himself. "It's all yours, Eddie. I'm out'a here!" He turned and began to
make his way through the other students, still looking into the
audience. "Sorry, Lash! I tried!"
        "Philip! Stop right there!" Mrs. Miller yelled, her commanding
voice stopped everybody in their tracks. She spun on her co-director. "You!
In my office now!" She turned and stalked off, not looking to see if
Mr. Craig followed. She just assumed he wouldn't dare not to. She'd been
there almost fifteen years to his two. Her tone didn't tolerate defiance
and she'd never seen a teacher so out of control before.
        "Mr. Craig?" Eddie shouted his own defiance, followed by a round of
assenting nods, "Unless Flip is dead or sick, I'm not gon'a do it! Find
someone else!"
        "Then I'll fail you along with Philip!" Mr. Craig turned back to
the newest threat to his authority. "You want to go down with him? Fine!"
        "Mr. Craig! That is enough!" Mrs. M rounded on him. Her fury was
evident to everybody in the hall. "You want to have this out right now?
That's fine with me! Otherwise, get to my office! Now!" She suddenly turned
and pointed back to the stage. "Philip! You stay right where you are! Your
dressing room will be occupied!"
        "Are you OK?" Marty found himself leaning on his crutches, watching
Philip's form slouched by the front of the stage. He never remembered
moving from his seat until he arrived. Gathering his crutches, he managed
to hop up, balancing precariously on the edge of the stage. "What's wrong
with that guy?"
        "I don't know," Philip whispered. All his anger had drained away,
leaving him to sit in numbed silence with the others. "I guess I'm not the
only one having a bad day."
        "Are you really going to quit?" Marty watched the sudden struggle
of emotion cross Philip's face.
        "Like I have a choice?" Philip turned his head away to look at Lash
staring at him. A smile broke through her face as she gave him a silent
thumbs up. He jumped slightly and turned back when he felt an arm circle
his shoulders. His eyes widened in surprise at Marty's arm. Marty had never
been the type to touch anyone before. He'd even flinched away from the
holds that the therapists had used on him.
        "I'm OK." Philip returned the contact, drawing Marty closer to him.
        "Damn." Marty smiled and blushed as he lost his grip and his
crutches clattered onto the carpet under his feet. "I hate those things."
        "Want me to get those for you?" Philip asked.
        "No. It's OK." Marty answered, glancing around at the other
`players' huddled around them in their own groups. "I've got it."
        "Mr. Alexander!" The overhead intercom drew everybody's
attention. "Report to the drama room!"
        Philip sighed as he felt Marty draw closer along with the others
around him. How could this day get any worse? He felt Marty's mop of black
hair tickle his neck as he rested his head. Or better?

         "I can't believe that teacher actually apologized." Marty grinned
as he sat in Philip's little Toyota. The whole afternoon had been full of
surprises. He still didn't know what had been bothering Philip so much
while they'd been in detention but at least he seemed happier now. "I
thought for sure that the principal would take the other side."
        "No." Philip smiled wanly as his thoughts returned to his earlier
problem. "This morning's not the first time I've been in his office, but
he's always been fair and never held it against me." He sighed as he
reached for the headlight switch. "Sorry it's so late. I didn't think we'd
be this late. Your dad OK?"
        "Sure. He won't care," Marty lied, then quickly changed the subject
away from what he feared. "Hey, is it true you almost drowned last week?"
        "Yeah." Philip slowed down properly this time on the slick
road. "My best friend from where I grew up pulled me out. Why?"
        "Take the second left coming up." Marty fidgeted nervously. This
route would take him past the accident site but it was the fastest way
home. "I don't know...I was wondering if I...." He took a deep
breath. "If...if I could teach you how to swim sometime...If you want, that
is."
        "I don't know." Philip dared a glance towards Marty. He looked
scared to death to even bring up the subject. "If you really want to...I'll
try. Where can we do this?"
        "Your friend Lash offered her pool." Marty let out the breath he'd
been holding. "That way nobody will see m...us."
        "Lash did?" Philip started. He was beginning to see the `Great
Lashonda' at work again, but let it pass. "If you really want to...How
`bout Saturday?"
        "OK. That'll be great." Marty smiled again. "Next driveway."
        "So, I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Philip smiled back as he pulled
into the space indicated.
        "I don't know." Marty's eyes glowed evilly. "Think I'll fall down
again?"
        "I ought to let you take the bus for that," Philip groaned
inwardly.
        "If you do that, I might bust my ass or get busted." Marty felt his
smile widen. "You could always coach me."
        "Enough!" Philip felt like he was getting a headache all of a
sudden. "Why don't you make like a tree and leaf!"
        "Hey, I'm just trying to branch out. That's all." Marty found
himself grinning openly as he exited the car to go inside. He loved puns,
they kept the problems easier to cope with. Philip had dropped his forehead
onto the steering wheel. "Here I am finding my roots and all I get is
birched out for it. Jeeze, I'll see you tomorrow."
        "OK." Philip waved as he backed away from the house to start home.
        Marty's grin vanished as he stepped through the door and quietly
closed it behind him. He hoped he could make it to the kitchen unnoticed.
        "Where have you been?" Marty's dad bellowed at him. "You break your
fingers now?"
        "I'm sorry." Marty winced and tried to look away. He could smell
the alcohol from across the room. "I meant to call...."
        "I'm sorry." Marty heard his dad's voice pitch up to mockingly
mimic his own. "Damn right you're sorry!" Marty was suddenly pushed hard
against the wall. He collapsed in a heap onto the floor and felt his eyes
tear up from the pain radiating through his shoulders.
        "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" His dad punctuated his
statement by grabbing Marty under his chin, forcing his face up. "Get your
worthless ass to your room. Dinner was an hour ago. You can starve for all
I care!"
        "Yes, sir." Marty carefully rose, retrieving his crutches, and
slipped away as fast as he could to get away from his father's wrath. He
didn't dare even sniff back the tears he felt, for fear of setting him off
again. He quietly lay back on his bed, listening to his stomach growling in
protest. His dad had loved him once, had gone out of his way to see him
stay out of jail. Why?

        "Philip? Could you come here a minute?" Mrs. Nevins sat quietly in
her favorite chair, listening to her son prowl through the house. The
program she'd been watching was long forgotten as she steeled herself to
the discussion she had to have with her only child.
        "Yes?" Philip quickly crossed to sit across from her. He felt the
first twinge of fear as he saw the strange look on her face.
        "First, I don't mind the tattoo. I just wish you'd have asked me
first." She smiled in a knowing way. He'd have never asked, for fear of the
answer he knew he would get, but it was her duty as a mother to say such
things. "Second, I've thought about your punishment and I want you to go
back to doing whatever you want with the fire department. I am very proud
of you for doing that and I know how much it means to you."
        She quickly wiped her eyes as she stared at her son's shocked
face. He obviously suspected something terrible now and she couldn't turn
back now if she wanted to. "The last thing I need to tell you is, I went to
the doctor's today...."
        Philip stumbled back to his room. His eyes wouldn't stop watering
as he wiped them again. He bit back another sob. What had his mom called
it? Metastasis to her liver and brain? `Oh, God!' his mind screamed at him
over and over. She'd tried to soften the news for him but he'd heard enough
stories from the medics he'd been around to know that she'd just passed her
own death sentence.
        All he'd been able to do was cling to her for hours into the wee
morning as she let him cry himself out. She'd explained her treatment
schedule and his need to be strong through it all, but he didn't know if he
could be strong. So he'd collapsed, like a five year old, into the waiting
arms that had comforted him so many times before.
        Philip slumped down at his desk and idly flipped through his
notebook, numbly looking for his homework assignments. He jumped when his
letter of resignation flipped out to land at his feet. He quietly leaned
down and opened it, rereading the meager contents written inside. He could
never tell his mom about him now. It would kill her faster than the cancer
would, but he couldn't let those bastards at school win, either. He
suddenly found one way he could be strong for her as he viciously ripped
the note apart and dropped it into the trash where it belonged!


My thanks to ED for his assistance with this story. My thanks to everybody
who has lent their support to me for writing this story. Please let me know
what you think.
	  Thanks for letting me share. Willy B. (haztech@msn.com)