The contents of this story is purely fictional although based on real life happenings in my life. All names have been fictionalize to protect the innocent and not so innocent. The content matter of this story concerns love and sex between males teenagers. If this is not what you like reading or it is illegal for you to read this material because of age or laws go somewhere else. This story is copyrighted by it's owner and may not be copied or published elsewhere without the owners permission.

Author's note:

Here's the next chapter. Have a great Thanksgiving

Hope you like the story. Let me hear from you. Coming soon some of Foto's photos in Chicago.

Sam Lakes

samlakes86 at


by Sam Lakes

Copyright © 2006 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Nine

We live in Chicago – the burbs. If you drove by our place you’d probably miss it. We live in an underground house. A big underground house that was built in the 70’s by an eccentric multi-millionaire. We generate our own electricity, because there is a small hydroelectric plant, fed by an underground stream that runs through the property. We have an indoor pool and gym which we love.

Dad has an office in Schaumberg.

Michael tutored me for six months which was okay but I still didn’t have any friends and to be honest I was a bit scared to make friends. I really didn’t have much confidence that we wouldn’t pick up and leave for somewhere else.

Right after my fifteenth birthday Dad and Michael enrolled me in a high school that was geared towards the arts.

I was enrolled right after something called ‘Spring Break’. I went through a battery of tests so they could figure out where to place me I was assigned to Mrs. Underwood as my student counselor. I liked her – she had a nice smile. I would guess she was in her forties.

“So, Sebastian or do you prefer Bastian or Atreyu?” she asked. There was a hint of a smile.

“Bastian,” I said softly.

“Your scores were very good. I’m inclined to place you in some Advanced Placement Classes. How do you feel about that?”

“Okay.” I had no idea what she was taking about.

“Good. You’ll have AP English, AP Math, AP History, and AP Physics. Sound good?”

I nodded. I started thinking about how I would photograph her. I’d have to do a soft focus to hide a few of her wrinkles. In a way she was quite an attractive lady. I unconsciously stood up thinking that I would have to shoot her from a slightly higher angle to hide the slight double chin.

“Bastian, we’re not finished yet.”

I blushed a bit, “Ugh, sorry I got carried away thinking about something.”


I nodded and sat back down.

“What was it you were thinking?” she smiled. She had a terrific smile and pretty teeth.

“How I would like shoot you,” I said.

She suddenly had a shocked look on her face which turned to a very serious and slightly nervous look.

“Do you think much about shooting people?”

“Oh, all the time, I’m a real fanatic,” I smiled. She didn’t look too happy.

“Sometimes, I think about it for a long time and other times I just snap. I never know when the urge will come over me but I am almost always prepared, in case I need to do it.” I said. I didn’t know what I had said to make her so nervous.

“I find it best to do it as quickly as possible and surprise them, cause if you don’t get them on the first shot, you seldom get a second chance.” The more I talked the more nervous she seemed to get. It was strange because she seemed so nice at first, but now she was looking absolutely pale.

I thought maybe if I explained it better she would get it. What in the world was going on?

I looked at her and said, “sometimes I go for a long time without even thinking of shooting someone, then the urge comes over me like a spell or something and I can’t think clearly and I just grab it and I snap, and that is it. I shoot someone. They and nobody else ever knows I shot them. Most of the time I try to surprise them but it isn’t always possible to do it that way. Like now for instance, there is no way I can surprise you, so I just have to take my chances and get in as good a shot as I can while you are sitting there.”

“Here, I’ll show you. I turned around and opened my backpack.”

“Bastian, NO!” she screamed.

I turned around holding my camera. A man rushed into the room. Talk about scaring the heck out me. It was a really weird scene. She looked at me, the camera, the man who rushed in, back to me and then started laughing.

The man looked at me with a confused look. I am sure I had a confused look on my face because I had no idea why she screamed at me and now is laughing. I shrugged my shoulders so the man knew I was as confused as he was.

“Bastian, I am sorry,” she giggled, “Mr. Prescot, everything is fine, a huge misunderstanding on my part. Bastian was talking about how he’d like to shoot me and I took it the wrong way. Bastian, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

I finally twigged on what she thought, “You thought I would shoot you with a gun?! I could never do that Mrs. Underwood! I was thinking you are a very attractive lady.” She blushed.

“Well, it looks like everything is fine, so I’ll leave you two to get on with what you were doing.” The man left the room and closed the door.

She smiled.

“You know you have a beautiful smile,” I said, “I have to do this. I really have to do this. I have to take your picture.”


“Mrs. Underwood I have to do this or it will bug me all day and I won’t be able to concentrate on my studies. Now, move you head down slightly. Perfect.” I licked around my lens – spit will give you a soft focus effect.

“You have a beautiful smile,” I said. She smiled. I clicked. The picture was good so I showed it to her. She asked me for a copy.

I ended up with all AP Classes, and for extra curricular activity, I was the school photographer. Well, one of them.

She gave me my schedule, a map of the layout of the school, and school rules. Then someone gave me a stack of books for my classes. Let me tell you, I think I made a huge mistake agreeing to these Advance Placement classes. I’d have to get me a roll-about-suitcase to manage all this stuff.

As I lumbered down the busy hallway I wondered if I was the only student who fell for this AP class thing because nobody seemed to be carrying a ton of books except me. Still I bet I get big muscles like Brady.

I was a bit lost. My schedule and map of the school were in my right hand, but I couldn’t get at it because I needed both hands to carry the books. I stopped and as I was bending over to put the books on the floor, somebody crashed into me. I don’t know how I managed to get my face in the wrong position, but I did.

WHACK! The foot of the person falling over me caught me right in the face.

“Merd!” I exclaimed as I sat up with my hand over my nose. Man, did it hurt and blood was dripping from it. Luckily I was catching the blood with my hand so it wouldn’t get on my shirt. I was trying to think if I had a tissue somewhere not paying any attention to the guy who fell over me. I was beginning to feel a little light-headed.

“Oh, shit! Oh, man! Dude, are you okay?” asked the guy.

“Can you get me a tissue?” I asked without looking at him. He darted off and returned a few moments later with a roll of toilet paper. I had a big wad of tp covering my face when someone spoke.

“Is everything alright here? What happened?” I turned to see Mr. Prescott as I wiped my nose and hand with the toilet paper.

“I ran into him sir. I guess my foot hit him in the face,” said the guy.

“I’m fine. My nose has stopped bleeding. It was my fault. I had to put my books down cuz I needed to look at my map. Really, I’m alright,” I said.

“Maybe we should have the nurse have a look at you,” said Mr. Prescott.

“Sir, I am really okay. I don’t want to be late for class. I don’t want to create a bad impression.”

“Very well, Bastian,” said Mr. Prescott and he walked away.

“Where’s your class?”

I looked at my schedule and then the map before I answered, “Room 208.” I started picking up all my books.

“Where’s your locker?”

“Locker? Ugh, I don’t know. Nobody said anything to me about me having a locker.”

“Maybe it’s on your schedule,” he said as he took my schedule. He was kinda cute.

“Yeah, locker 145. Ah! You’re in luck, it’s right over there. Here I’ll help you.”

“Ugh, what’s your name?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Troy, Troy Jennings and you are Bastian?”

“McCormick, Bastian McCormick. Thanks for the help. I’m new here. Duh! I guess that’s obvious.”

He laughed, “Yeah, kinda.” He had an awesome smile. He ended up escorting me to my class.

“So, where are you from?”

“Oh, all over, my dad is a consultant and we moved around a lot,” I generalized as we were walking to my class.

“Well, where was the last place you lived?”

“The last place? Ugh,” I stalled because the last place I lived was on an island, “No where important.” He looked at me. God he had beautiful eyes and a smile that gave me butterflies.

“That’s okay you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s just complicated but really I’ve lived all over the world.”

“Your dad’s not like a contract killer, is he?” Troy said half joking.

“No, quite the opposite, he gets called in to help on criminal investigations. He’s a basically a dectective.”

“Wow. Here we are your French class.”

“I guess I made you late for your class. I’m sorry.”

“Aww, not to worry it’s only a study hall not a big deal. See you around.”

“Yeah, and thanks.” He winked at me and I turned and entered my first class.

My French teacher was a guy about thirty, I’d guess, sort of handsome. Nice facial features and a nice smile. I could understand why half the girls were sweet on him. I think I created a good impression on him when I pointed out he had a French Canadian accent.

I don’t think the other students liked me very much, because when he asked me to tell them something about myself. So I did. I thought because it was French class I had to speak French, so I proceeded to tell them in French about my life in Paris and taking photographs.

He, of course, understood me and we chatted a bit in French. He asked me why I elected to take French class. I told him it was because I preferred it to Spanish because I liked French poetry.

The next class was English Lit. The teacher was probably close to retirement, but I loved her wrinkled skin, it gave her character. Most people who look at her would see an old bitchy lady, I didn’t. I saw something more. I saw years of doing something she enjoyed. I saw the heart-ache of being old and knowing that her days of teaching were too soon to come to an end.

Again after she introduced me to the class she asked me to say something about myself so this being English Lit. I proceeded to tell her that I had read all of Dickens, Dumas, Hugo, Heinlein, Orwell, King, Crichton, Clancey and Clemens. Apparently, I had read all of the required reading through to college.

Then she started quizzing me about the various writers and who was my favorite. I said hands down my favorite writer was Samuel Clemens. I told her I loved his humor and satire.

She said, after we had been talking for at least fifteen minutes, “At last, a student with intelligence, who can discuss literature and writers in more than one syllable words. Thank you Bastian.”

The glares I got from the other students convinced me that I was now hated in two of my classes.

My next class was World History. When the teacher, a younger woman, asked me to say something about myself, I shrugged my shoulders, “I’m a fotogeek,” and sat down.

“Yes, so I’ve heard. You like shooting people,” she jested.

I blushed. I felt it wasn’t right her joking like that. It was clearly a misunderstanding. Now everybody is going to think I’m some kind of weirdo. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not meant to be here. So far my day has sucked.

Lunch was starting out the same. First of all the cashier freaked-out when I gave her a hundred dollar bill – she made such a big thing out of it. Then I sat down at a table and some big football guy told me it was his table for him and his buddies. He didn’t want some little faggot freshman sitting at his table.

I tried three other tables before I gave up and walked out of the cafeteria. On my way out I passed by Troy but I didn’t stop because I was close to tears – actually they were beginning to leak out.


I kept on walking. I really didn’t want to cry in front of him so I just kept on walking. I was relieved that he didn’t follow me. I almost called Michael but I knew he was happy with a new job and I felt he deserved to have a break from baby sitting me – I’d just have to tough it out as Brady would say.

I missed Brady so much, I found myself calling him. I got his voice mail and decided not to leave a message after all he was busy in class or something. The rest of the day went pretty much the same as the first part of the day; I seemed to be pissing everyone off one way or another.

Other than Troy, no one had particularly tried to be friendly. I wondered if I had really bad BO. I didn’t think I did. By the end of the day I was ready to go home, but then I remembered I had the school paper meeting.

I’d seen a couple of the people in my classes and started to walk out when Mrs. Underwood said, “Bastian, this is Alicia Goldsmith. Alicia, this is Bastian McCormick, our new photographer. He’s very talented.”

Alicia came over to me. She was outstandingly beautiful and I swear a smile that could melt the coldest heart. “Hi, Bastian, I’m pleased to meet you.” I shook her out-stretched hand.

Have you ever heard about some people how when they meet they just click? They are like instant friends and long lost pals. That’s the way Alicia made me feel.

We talked a bit about photography but then I decided to take her picture. She didn’t want me to do it at first because she said all her photos recently made her look fat. I smiled, buxom maybe, fat never. She was not what you’d even call full-figured – she simply had big tits.

I walked around her looking at her features. I looked around the room. “Come here and stand facing the window,” I said, “I promise you if you don’t like the picture I’ll delete it.” I positioned her just right using the light from the window as a backlight.

I took a couple of shots but I didn’t have the right expression on her face. I sighed and thought.

“Alicia? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you really love him?”

“Yes, we’ve been going together since tenth grade.”

“Good, I want you to imagine he’s here, standing where I’m standing. He tells you he loves you more than anything, and you know it’s true. And when he tells you this you turn your head towards him because you feel such love coming from him and you feel the same.”

She took a deep breath and relaxed then turned her head slowly towards me. She had the right look; the lighting was perfect, click. I quickly looked at the picture I had taken in the monitor and knew she wouldn’t want me to delete it. I could tell she really loved him. My smile widened.

“Come on, come on! I want to see it!”

I showed it to her. She said nothing for a few moments, but a tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped away the tears. “Bastian, it the best picture ever taken of me. Bastian you’re a genius.” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I blushed. “I want a copy because my boyfriend’s birthday is next week. I’ll pay you what ever you want.”

“Just be a friend.”


She had already given me my photo assignment. The school play had dress rehearsals Saturday and Sunday. She wanted photos of the actors and crew and shots for the play itself.

Later, I found out that Troy was the main star. I think I was falling for him.

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