Date: Sun, 06 May 2001 21:10:56 -0700
From: The Pecman <thepecman@yahoo.com>
Subject: Groovy Kind of Love 16-18 (t/t, HS, 1st, HS, size, mast, oral, anal)

GROOVY KIND OF LOVE
*******************

-----------------------------------------------------------
   For the disclaimer, please read Part 1.
   This story may be reprinted anywhere on the Net, as long
   as it's done intact, without changing a single word,
   and preserving my copyright & Email address. And that's
   Copyright 2001 ThePecman@yahoo.com. All rights reserved.
-----------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 16

I had been so bored over New Year's, I was almost glad to
get back to school on the 6th. Much to my relief, my
History paper got an A, but I was a little disappointed I
couldn't pull an A+, given that I had written nearly 2000
words on the subject -- double the assignment -- and even
had a couple of extra Xeroxed pages of pictures to go with
it. When I bugged Mr. Harnett about it after class, he
rolled his eyes and said, "there is such a thing as
overkill, Mr. Larson. Just be happy with your A."

After school at 3:45, I caught up with Sky at Mr. Lucas'
office. The coach marched us down the hall and opened up
the janitor's door.

"Take this, and start policing the side field," he said to
Sky, rolling out a wheeled trash can and a wooden stick
with a nail in it. "Pick up every scrap of trash you see,
and don't come back until at least 4:45."

Lucas pulled out a bucket and a mop, and set them down in
front of me. I stared at them.

"You have seen a mop before, haven't you, Mr. Larson?" he
said, sarcastically.

"Sure, Coach," I said, "but I just figured Sky and I could
like work together..."

"Gentlemen! This is not a social committee!" he snapped.
"For the next two weeks, you're here for some serious
punishment. I don't have to remind you -- you flake out on
this, and you're suspended for real."

Sky and I meekly nodded.

Lucas pointed at me, then at the bucket. "Wil, take this
mop and swab out the six boys' bathrooms on this wing --
upstairs and down. You'll need to empty out the bucket in
the drain as you go. Here's a can of cleanser to go with
it. I want those floors spic-and-span!"

Sky and I stared at each other.

"Move it!" he yelled.

We both took off in opposite directions.

                        *   *   *

The work was hard, but not impossible. Every day, we had a
new kind of chore to tackle. Normally, I hated manual
labor, but at least I got to see Sky for a little while.

On Tuesday, we were both on our hands and knees, scrubbing
down the front part of the cafeteria.

"Hey, doofus -- heads up!" Sky yelled, and plopped the
brush in the bucket from 20 feet away, sending a splash of
water and suds all over my shirt.

"HEY!" I cried. "Watch that, you asshole!"

He laughed. I had to laugh, too. At least it was a fairly
warm day, especially for January.

"You haven't told me about Cynthia," he said, swabbing the
floor.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "It wasn't all that great."

"You're kidding!" he said, looking up. "That's not what I
heard!"

I put down my brush. "What?"

Sky continued scrubbing. "Cyn told Melissa you were
fantastic. I figured, well, that you two had gotten along
real well."

Yeah, I thought. Real well, like a square peg in a round
hole.

"I think maybe... maybe Cyn's not exactly my type, Sky," I
said.

"But you did have a good time, right?" he asked,
expectantly.

"Sure. I guess." I tried not to look at him, hoping he
wouldn't ask for details.

"If Cynthia's not quite your speed," he continued,
"Melissa's got another friend I could fix you up with, y'
know. That is, if you're interested."

I closed my eyes. I knew what I was really interested in;
it was just hard to admit it to myself. I kept scrubbing,
then poured some more clean water down to one side.

"Look, Wil," he said. "Lemme know if you wanna... I dunno,
double-date or something."

I looked up. "You mean -- go out with you and Melissa?
Together?"

"Sure," he nodded. "You and me and Melissa and Ginny."

"Who's Ginny?" I asked.

"Virginia Randall," he explained. "She's real cute, a real
brain, too. She's on the school newspaper staff."

"Cool," I said, casually. "Yeah, maybe we could do that
sometime."

"A LITTLE LESS TALKING AND A LITTLE MORE CLEANING!" boomed
a voice from the back of the cafeteria.

Sky and I looked up to see Coach Lucas at the doorway.

"Gentlemen!" he barked. "You're here for detention, not for
conversation. Let's get a move on!"

We both nodded glumly and went back to the task at hand.

                        *   *   *

By Wednesday, things had fallen more-or-less into a
routine. After school, I convinced Sky to let us stay late
and train in the workout room for an hour after our trash
pick-up detail. The only way I could bribe him was to agree
to do some of his homework for him, but at least it'd give
me some time to talk to him and hang out together. We both
avoided mentioning the incident in the whirlpool.

The workouts were exhausting, but I began to get into it,
enjoying the escape from the academic monotony of my day.
Sometimes, when I glanced at Sky lifting weights, his
muscles glistening in the pale light of the gym, I found
myself having to catch my breath. It was torture seeing him
like this and not being able to touch him, but I knew that
being without Sky would be even worse. It was better to be
able to see him this way than not ever see him at all.

Promptly at 6:00PM, Coach Lucas stuck his head into the
workout room just as the varsity track team ran behind him,
back into the locker room.

"Alright, gentlemen!" he yelled, clapping his hands for our
attention. "Gym's closin' up. Re-rack your weights, and hit
the showers. We'll open back up at 7AM tomorrow."

Everybody groaned and reluctantly put their weights back on
the stands. I did six more reps on the leg-extension
machine, then struggled to my feet and followed Sky out the
door. My thighs and calves hurt like hell, but I knew the
workouts would ultimately improve my swimming performance.

"Wil! I need to talk to you for a second, son."

I looked up, and it was Coach Lucas in the side corridor,
near the gym office.

"What's up, Coach?" I asked, still a little out of breath
from my work-out.

He looked around to make sure no one else was listening.
"Wil, you and I never talked about what happened here a
couple of weeks ago."

I froze. He couldn't possibly know what'd happened with me
and Scott.

"N-n-no, we didn't, Coach," I mumbled, looking away, and
trying desperately to sound as innocent as I could.

"Was Scott Michaels with you when you were here working
out?"

"No," I said, almost truthfully. "The gym was empty the
whole time."

"And you left at what time?"

"Oh, I think it was maybe 5:00," I said, casually.

"And you didn't see anyone else here?" he asked.

I thought for a minute, trying to make my story sound
logical. "Now that I think about it, I might have seen
Chuck just as I was leaving," I said. "In fact, I just
remembered, I said goodnight to him as I left," I added,
trying to weave that little fact in.

Coach nodded. "Okay. It's not a big deal."

"Uh, Coach," I asked, as he started to leave. "Scott's
gonna be okay, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. He'll be back at school tomorrow," Lucas
explained. "He won't be able to play on the team because of
his arm, but he'll be okay. It's no secret that the school
board is all over us because of this injury." The coach
looked at me carefully. "Wil, do me a favor. I want you to
forget that I ever told you that you could work out without
supervision."

So _that's_ what this is all about, I thought. "No problem,
Coach," I nodded.

"From now on, that rule is etched in stone," he said,
seriously. "You work out with somebody from your team, or
one of our staff."

"Or Sky," I said, quietly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Wil," he said, giving me a reassuring pat on
the shoulder. He turned and went back into the gym office.

Just as I was walking back down the hall to the locker
room, I stopped and saw Sky by our locker. He was nude,
walking towards the other corridor to the shower, towel in
hand.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Move your ass, muscle-man!"

I grinned. "On my way!"

I couldn't take my eyes off him as he strutted confidently
down the hall and into the shower doorway. He looked more
like a Greek god than ever, I thought.

Suddenly, I realized there was someone next to me breathing
heavily. Chuck.

I gave him a nod. "Hey, Chuck," I said, quietly.

"Hey," he said, still watching Sky walk away.

I walked over to my locker and quickly disrobed. I wrapped
my towel around my waist and looked up, but Chuck was gone.
Just as well, I thought, nervously.

                        *   *   *

Thursday, I had just dumped my tray in the cafe-teria when
Sky and Melissa came over. I felt a jealous wave pass
through me, then I let it go and put on the best smiling
face I could.

"Hi, you guys!" I said, looking up. "Wish me luck at the
meet on Saturday."

"I heard," gushed Melissa. "You're doing -- what? --
butterfly, right?"

I shook my head. "Breaststroke," I said. "Coach said I
needed some more work on Butterfly before he wanted to put
me in the race. But at least I'm there in Breast."

Sky leaned over and whispered to me, "I never woulda
figured you for a breast man, Wil!" he giggled.

I rolled my eyes, then laughed.

"What was that?" said Melissa, suspiciously.

"I'm just givin' him some pointers on the race, Mel'," Sky
said with a grin.

We walked out of the cafeteria together and next to the
school music complex next door. Several students were
playing a radio just outside the building -- it was The
Beatles' "Hello, Goodbye," one of my favorites from the
year before.

Sky had his arm around Melissa. He looked up at me.

"Hey, man," he said. "We've gotta go. See you after school,
in detention!"

"Goodbye, Wil!" called Melissa.

"You say goodbye... and I say hello!" I sang. I immediately
launched into the song, and Sky and Melissa stopped and
laughed. The other students looked up at me and grinned,
and we all started singing together. I went into my best
Paul McCartney impression.


"I say high
you say low
I say why
and you say I don't know...

ohhhh...
Oh, no...

You say goodbye
and I say hello...

Hello, hello!
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello."


"There he goes again!" laughed Sky, punching me
affectionately on the shoulder.

I grinned back, then sang the final chorus.


"Hey, la...
hey, hello! (Hey, la!)
Hey, la...
hey, hello!"


The song ended, and we all laughed. Melissa put her arm
around me. "You really should sing more, Wil," she said.

"You're not bad," agreed Sky. "Not as good as Paul, but
probably the closest we're gonna get here in school."

I laughed. Melissa turned to me. "Have you ever thought
about trying out for chorus, Wil?"

I shook my head. "No, no -- I'm just an amateur," I
protested. "Besides, I'm already too tied up with
swimming."

"That's only until March, right?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. But my class schedule is already crowded
as it is."

"Well, think about it, anyway," she said. "I'm positive
that Mr. Guccino, the chorus director, would really
appreciate your voice."

The bell rang, and we went on to our next classes. I
continued humming the Beatles song in my head for the next
hour.

                        *   *   *

By 6th period English, I was still mulling over what
Melissa had said. Maybe she was right. Maybe I could get
into singing at school. I glanced at the clock. I was bored
silly in English. I felt like I knew most of the material
already. Maybe I could find a way out of the class.

At the bell, I stopped by Mrs. Kester's desk.

"Yes, Wil?" she asked, looking up.

I explained my dilemma. "Is there some way I can get out of
English -- maybe exempt it or something?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "You're one of my
best students, William," she said, reluctantly. "I'd hate
to see you drop my class, but yes -- if you can pass the
equivalency test for the year, you can exempt English." She
handed me a form for my folks to sign. "Bring this back
in," she said, "and we'll get it scheduled."

Great, I thought. At least this way, I could avoid having
to let Sky cheat off my paper again. And I could still help
him study, if he got desperate.

                        *   *   *

That afternoon, after another round of picking up trash
from the track area, Sky and I headed home in his father's
car. "Your lenses came in, Wil," said Dr. Jones, holding up
a small box. "Let's stop by the clinic, and I'll give you a
quick fitting. It'll only take a few minutes."

We drove by his office, and in a matter of minutes, I was
gazing at my face in the mirror. For the first time in
about six years, I could actually see without glasses on my
face. The effect was startling.

"Wow," I said, turning my head back and forth in the
mirror. "They actually work!"

"See, I told ya," said Sky, who grinned and put his hand on
my shoulder.

I looked at our two faces in the mirror. Well, not quite
beauty and the beast, I thought, but certainly beauty and
the so-so face.

"If you can't get dates now, then I'd say you'll have to
shoot yourself," he giggled.

I winced. "I guess now you're gonna force me to meet this
'Ginny' person, right?" I asked.

"Virginia's great," he replied. "You'll really like her.
She's real smart, I swear."

"Yeah," I said, "but how does she _look_?"

"Like I said," he continued, "she's real smart."

Oh great, I thought. I get to go out with a dog.

Sky saw my expression and laughed.

                        *   *   *

On Friday afternoon, I was feeling a little better about
our after-school punishment. Maybe I was finally getting
used to doing a little manual labor. I didn't mind hard
work, like studying or swimming laps, but this hands-and-
knees stuff was something I'd never had to do before. I had
to admit, though, I felt a strange feeling of
accomplishment to look back at the floor of one of the
rooms we finished, knowing that we'd actually done
something. Never mind that it'd be dirty again in about
three days.

Coach had separated us again and I was hard at work by
myself, scrubbing the tile floor of the upstairs boys'
bathroom in the B-Wing building. Man, this place was a
pigsty. I wondered if half the guys who used it ever
actually got their piss in the bowl, rather than on the
floor. This was gross, I thought, as I emptied the bucket
in the sink.

Feeling the urge, I got up, put down my brush, and walked
over to one of the nearby urinals. I unzipped my fly and
let a long stream cascade out onto the porcelain. I was
exhausted. This shit was really hard work. I now had a lot
more respect for the poor janitors that had to take care of
this dump, that's for sure. I rested my head momentarily
down on the chrome pipe. I couldn't wait to get home today,
I thought. At least I had the weekend to look forward to.

Suddenly, I was conscious of another stream splashing down
the urinal to my left. I looked up, and there was Scott
Michaels. His left arm was in a sling, and he had a small
bandage on the upper right side of his forehead. My heart
stopped.

"Scott! I... I..." I stammered and tripped backwards on my
empty bucket, then fell down on the floor.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. Just a call
of nature," he said, casually, as he zipped himself up.
"Lemme give you a hand," he said, holding out his good
right arm.

I let him pull me back up, but stared at him with a
combination of fear and hatred. Several uncomfortable
moments passed.

"I haven't seen you around school much," I said, turning
away and reaching for my brush and bucket.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I was hurt pretty bad. Listen, I... I
wanted to talk to you, Wil."

I felt the blood rush to my face. "I don't wanna talk to
you, Scott," I said, angrily, as I refilled the bucket with
water. "Just get the fuck away from me."

"Wait. Please -- lemme just say something." He leaned on
the wall next to me. "I know you won't believe me, but...
I'm really sorry for what happened. I was really fucked-
up."

Better to be fucked-up than _fucked_, I thought to myself.

Scott looked down at the floor. I could see he was trying
to gather up his courage. "I was out for a couple of
hours," he began. "After I came to at the hospital, the
doctors told me they figured out that I'd been... having
anal sex for awhile," he said, quietly. "I tried to deny
it, but I eventually had to tell 'em who'd been doing it to
me."

I looked up at him, my expression softening.

"This was all my stepdad's fault," he continued, with a
choke. "He'd been doin' it to me for six years, since I was
a little kid. I couldn't stop him."

I felt stunned. I nodded and put my brush down.

"He's in jail now," Scott said, tears beginning to roll
down his face. "My mom's gonna divorce him. It's not gonna
make the papers. He pled guilty, and they're keeping it all
quiet. Nobody else knows about it."

"Jesus," I said, quietly. "I'm really sorry, Scott."

"Yeah," he said, fighting back the tears. "So am I."

We both stood silently, trying not to look at each other.
Finally, I got back down and started scrubbing the floor
again.

Scott took a step towards me. I flinched, and he stopped.
"They've got me seein' a shrink now. I'm... I'm workin'
some stuff out, y' know?"

I nodded, but continued scrubbing.

"I swear, Wil," he said. "Never again. I hope you can
forgive me."

I closed my eyes. "I didn't tell anybody, did I?" I said.
"Your secret's safe with me."

"I know," he said, softly. "You could've, but you didn't. I
swear, I'll... I'll make it up to you someday."

"Yeah." I stood up, picked up the bucket, and emptied it
out in the sink. "Look, uh, Scott... I got work to do."

He nodded. "'Kay. See ya around, Wil. And thanks."

I didn't answer, but continued filling up the bucket. He
left the bathroom, and the automatic hinges slowly shut the
door. I looked up in the mirror at my face, and was
surprised to see a couple of tears near my right eye.

Fucking asshole, I thought, as I wiped my face, then got
back down on my hands and knees, and continued scrubbing.

Seconds later, the door burst open.

"Wil!" yelled Sky. "There you are! Are you okay, man?" he
asked, with a trace of concern in his voice.

"Yeah," I said, giving the floor one last touch-up. "I'm
just about done here."

"I saw that asshole Scott Michaels going down the hallway,
but he made it downstairs before I could stop him."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, he was here," I said. "Leave him
alone. He's got his own problems."

Sky put his hand on my shoulder. "Listen, man," he said,
quietly. "Me and a couple of the guys from the team... we
could take care of him, if you want." He looked at me with
an expression of utter seriousness.

"No, Sky," I said. "Let him go."

"I mean it." He stared at me, unblinking.

"Thanks, Sky," I said, finally. "But let's just forget
about it."

He nodded and took his hand from my shoulder. "Okay, Wil,"
he said. "Whatever you say. Look, let's get outta here.
It's almost 5:00, and my Dad's comin' by to pick us up.
He's gonna let me drive home, now that I've got my
learner's permit. Isn't that cool?"

"Yeah," I said. "Real cool."

                        *   *   *

Sky actually turned out to be a pretty good driver. His dad
winced as his son made a few sharper-than-normal turns, but
other than that, the trip back to my place was pretty
smooth. By the time we pulled up in the driveway, I
actually started feeling a little jealous. I wouldn't be
able to get even a learner's permit for at least six more
months. Shit, I thought. It seemed like a lifetime away.

I cursed God for making me born two years after everybody
else. Sky ran up beside me as I walked up the porch steps.

"So, you wanna do somethin' on Saturday?" he asked.

I shook my head. "This is the height of the swimming
season, Sky," I said. "I've been on second-string for four
months now, and I've got my first real meet tomorrow
afternoon. I've got practice first thing in the morning.
Coach's got me in the 200-yard medley relay, and I've gotta
concentrate on that. After the race is over, I'll probably
keel over dead from all the stress."

Sky nodded, but I could clearly see he was disappointed.
"Melissa and I still want you to meet Ginny," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't have any time to date right now,
Sky!" I whined.

"Call me on Sunday, then," he said, bounding down the
steps.

"You gonna come see me swim tomorrow?" I yelled.

Sky flashed me a grin. "I wouldn't miss it, man!" he yelled
back. He got in the driver's seat and slowly backed out of
the driveway.

                        *   *   *

By the time the weekend rolled around, dating was the last
thing on my mind. Saturday morning, the couch had us do
laps for a couple of hours, then gave us last-minute
instructions for the relays we were going to be doing that
afternoon. It was the first big meet in which I'd been
asked to participate, after languishing on second-string
since the start of the season.

I was assigned Breaststroke for the 200-meter relay, which
meant I was 2nd in the team line-up. Backstroke was first,
followed by Breast, then Butterfly, then Freestyle. The
coach knew we had to pick up speed in the first two, since
our team still wasn't too strong in Butterfly. Luckily for
us, neither was our opponent. On the second trial run, I
hit my best time ever. Coach Byers shook my hand as I
pulled myself out of the water.

"Excellent, Larson!" he said. "36.2 seconds! That's the
third-fastest time for 50-meter Breast stroke in the
history of the school. You're really comin' along, young
man."

I nodded. "How soon before the meet starts, coach?" I
asked.

"Not until 2PM," he replied. "We've got lunch in ten
minutes, and then I want you men to take a break. No sense
getting you all worked up. Just take it easy. I'll be back
at my office in the other building until 1PM if you need
me."

He blew his whistle. "That's it for practice, guys," he
yelled. "Be back here at 1:30, sharp. We stand a good
chance of beating Plant High on this one, and I don't wanna
see us lose the match on any technicalities."

We all nodded, then went back to the locker room. Three or
four other guys were at their lockers, talking in the
background. I sat down at my bench, pulled out the English
exam book, and started perusing it. My folks had agreed to
let me take the equivalency test next week, and if I could
pass it, I'd get out of taking English -- possibly for 10th
grade as well as 9th, if I was lucky.

Billy Peterson, the team captain, came by and slapped me on
the back.

"Larson!" he said, laughing. "You've always got your nose
stuck in a book!"

I grinned. "Yeah. I guess it seems that way."

"Hey," he said. "You okay on breaststroke?"

"Ready as ever," I said, nodding.

"I'm up first, on backstroke," said the team captain, "so
don't forget to wait until I touch the wall. If you dive in
early..."

"I know, I know," I said, waving my hands up in the air.
"I'll foul the whole event. That won't happen, I promise."

Billy grinned. "I know you won't let us down."

The older teen began peeling off his Speedos, and I tried
to look away. As he toweled down, continuing to talk about
the upcoming race, I glanced over. I was shocked to see he
was shaved totally smooth, all over his crotch! I
immediately felt my heart pound, and blood surged to my
groin.

Billy suddenly stopped talking when he saw my face, staring
right into his lap.

"Oh, I guess you noticed -- I shaved for the meet today,"
he laughed.

"Jesus, Billy!" I said, adjusting my suit. "What'd you do
that for?"

"It was a big thing with the Olympic guys last year," he
said. "You know, every tenth of a second counts in these
meets. If shaving off our body hair makes us even that much
faster, and we win the race, then it's worth it."

"I still say it can't make any difference, Bill," called
out Aaron, one of the other swimmers nearby. "It's not
scientific at all."

Billy laughed. "Hey, if I _feel_ faster, than I'm gonna
_be_ faster, right?"

I nodded. That was hard to argue with, I thought.

"And besides," he said, displaying his equipment proudly.
"It does look kinda cool, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to look. "I guess so."

"And it makes it look bigger, too," he said, giving me a
wink. "Not that all of us need that."

I winced. "Somehow, I don't think shaving would help me all
that much," I replied.

"You never know, Wil," he said, grinning. "Maybe you should
try it."

A couple of the other guys came in. "Hey, look at this --
Billy's now Mister Smooth!"

He put up with the razzing for a few seconds, then held up
his hands. "Hey, guys -- I'm tryin' out for a scholarship
to Florida State, so don't give me any shit."

The rest of my teammates nodded. Billy was the best swimmer
on the team, no question. If any of us had even a micron of
a chance to get a college swimming scholarship, Billy was
the one.

"You think it really makes a difference?" asked Carl, one
of the other seniors. "You know -- shaving?"

"Who cares?" said Billy, flexing his muscles and letting
his bare jewels flop down on the bench next to me. "If it
makes me _feel_ faster, then it's worth it."

Carl nodded. "I'm game. Anybody else wanna join me?"

My face blanched. You mean, they were gonna... shave? Right
here?

"Count me in!" said Mark, to my right.

"Me, too," said Joe, who was our top freestyle champ.

"I still say it's stupid," muttered Aaron. Joe punched him
in the arm. "Okay, okay, I'll do it," Aaron said,
grumbling.

The six swimmers looked over at me.

"Gee, guys, I dunno," I said, looking down.

"All for one and one for all!" Billy yelled, and grabbed me
under my arms.

"Wait a minute!" I yelled, dropping my book. Joe held me up
by my legs, and I was powerless to stop them.

Laughing, they pulled me down the hall and into the shower.
Before I knew it, we were all standing in a row, pulling
off our Speedos and lathering up our groins. I reluctantly
pulled down my suit and hung it on the shower tap behind
me.

"Holy shit, man," whistled Barry, a good-looking Freshman
on my left. He, Mark and I were the only 9th graders on the
team.

"Told ya so," said Mark, snickering.

Even Billy looked impressed. "Did anybody ever tell you
that you have..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. A donkey dick," I muttered.

"...actually," Billy continued, grinning, "I was gonna say,
'an engaging smile,' but now that you mention it..."

They laughed. This time, I laughed _with_ them, relieved.
For once, I could see I wasn't the butt of any jokes.

"C'mon, Wil. For the team," Billy said, holding out a razor
and a can of shaving cream. He looked at me expectantly.
All five of them grinned at me.

I took the razor and looked down. Mediocre as my pubes
were, it'd taken me almost a year to get that little growth
of hair. I hated to lose it, but... I started scraping the
top of my groin, and the other guys cheered. I even went to
the sides, getting the light hairs on my thighs.

"Legs, too," ordered Billy.

I sighed, letting the warm shower water run over my body,
and ran the blade up and down my legs, getting the scant
peach fuzz there. To my right, Joe was just finishing
shaving his underarms. I checked mine, but they were
already smooth. Kyle took the longest, since he had patches
of hair scattered around his chest. In less than a minute,
it was all gone, followed closely by the tufts of hair on
his stomach and groin.

When we were all finally finished, I looked up. Jesus. We
looked like a team of mutated pre-adolescents. Two of the
swimmers were already stiff at attention, looking at me and
grinning. Mark was starting to stroke himself, and Billy
gave me a big smile.

"Now that you're officially in the meet, it's time to
initiate you," he said.

"Good idea, Billy," said Aaron, who was the current
Butterfly record-holder. He had a wicked smile on his face.

Shit, I thought. I hated the sound of that.

"First guy to cum has to buy dinner after the meet," said
Billy, stroking himself to full arousal.

My endowment quickly stiffened to its full length, and I
turned to join the group. We formed a circle at one end of
the shower. Mark squirted some liquid soap out of a
dispenser and handed some to me.

"Don't be in a hurry," he advised. "Last one to shoot,
wins."

I grinned and soaped myself up. The others were already
lost in thought, fondling themselves and slowly moving
their fists up and down their shafts.

"Ohhhhhh," Mark moaned. His left shoulder was practically
touching mine, and he was staring down at my crotch. I
followed his gaze, and felt my heart race. If anything, my
penis looked even bigger than ever, now that my groin was
completely denuded of hair. I reached down, grabbed my
balls with my other hand, and started stroking harder.

In less than a minute, Joe started groaning. "Shit, guys!"
he panted, as several white spurts shot across the shower
and into the drain. "I guess that means I lose." Mark was
right behind him, followed a minute later by Kyle and
Barry.

Now it was up to me, Billy, and Aaron. The three of us
stared at each other. I hesitated trying to do anything
special, like rubbing my hands over my chest; I figured
that would be too much of a tip-off to the other guys. I
kept my eyes averted and forced myself to slow down, just
as RJ had shown me back at Rick and Ronnie's place a few
weeks ago.

"Ohhhh," moaned Aaron, to my right.

I glanced over at him. He had a good-size erection, no
question -- probably at least 8 inches, I thought. I
grinned at him, then reached down and began jacking myself
with both hands. His eyes widened, and he immediately
groaned and erupted several huge spurts, far more than I'd
ever seen before.

"Man, you just about exploded, Aaron!" called Mark,
laughing.

I looked up at Billy. His back was to the shower, and drips
of water trickled down his smooth, muscular chest. He
looked me in the face. I could see he was holding back as
best he could, but he was breathing heavily. His muscular
arm rocked back and forth, and I stared at the veins in his
bicep, and the deep ab ridges in his muscular stomach.
Shit, I thought. He was even bigger than Sky.

I couldn't stop myself. I began speeding up my thrusts,
tightening my grip and plunging my arousal through my
fists, faster and faster. Again, I felt the tell-tale
warning signs. I reached up and tweaked my nipple and
moaned. It was now or never. Just as I felt myself unload,
Billy cried out, and we both came almost simultaneously.
Mark had to jump out of the way, to avoid getting hit by my
ejaculation. An instant after the surge of pleasure left my
body, I leaned back against the wall and let the shower
wash over me, rinsing off the soap and goo from my hands. I
panted and felt a little embarrassed.

The other swimmers applauded. "That was great, man," said
Joe, clapping me on the back. "Fuckin' cool, Wil," said
Aaron. "For a 2nd-string freshman, that is," he grinned.

I laughed and nodded.

"I'd call that a tie, wouldn't you Billy?" said Kyle.

"A photo-finish," said Billy, still panting. He stuck out
his hand out to me, and we shook. "Congratulations, Wil.
You're cool in my book."

                        *   *   *

As it turned out, we did even better in the meet than we
did in the shower room. Billy set a new state record for
individual 100-meter Backstroke, and I picked up nearly
half a second in Breaststroke for the relay. Joe cinched it
with Freestyle, and we all clapped him soundly on the back
when he pulled himself out of the water. The small crowd
roared their approval.

We all hugged each other and waved at the audience. From a
distance, I saw Sky waving back. I felt a huge wave of
happiness, knowing that my best friend had witnessed our
victory.

"See, what'd I tell ya," said Billy to the rest of us. "I
think the shaving down is what put us over the top."

"Either that, or jacking-off," I whispered.

Billy turned to me and gave me a peculiar expression.
"That's just for special occasions," he said. "We're not a
buncha homos, Wil."

I shook my head and looked away, embarrassed.

"Hey, Wil!" called Sky from the side. I grabbed my towel
and ran over to the audience seats.

"You were fuckin' great, man!" he said, shaking my hand and
slapping my shoulder.

"Thanks," I said, beaming. "Coach says they're gonna keep
me in Breaststroke for the rest of the season."

"Cool. Listen, I gotta go. Melissa's waitin' for me."

I nodded. "See you tomorrow, maybe?" I asked.

"I can't. Dad's takin' us out tomorrow to buy us a new
boat," he said, excitedly. It's gonna be really cool, and
he's gonna teach me how to run it and everything."

"Sounds neat."

"Take it easy, Wil!" Sky yelled, as he waved and ran off.

I trotted across the wet concrete and back into the locker
room, and got dressed. The guys took me out for a victory
celebration at Shakey's Pizza, where the other teammates
happily stuck Joe with the check.

"The homo's gotta pay!" they chortled.

Homo, I thought?

"Yeah, Joe! You lost the shower game," reminded Kyle.

Mark turned to me and grinned. "I heard Joe always loses,"
he said, whispering. "I think he likes the game more than
the swim meets."

I nodded and tried to laugh, but I felt too miserable
inside. I'd liked the game, too. It was the most sex I'd
had all month. Maybe I was doomed to just be by myself, I
thought.



Chapter 17

By the end of January, I had managed to pass the English
equivalency test and get totally exempted for 9th and 10th
grade English. Mrs. Kester was reluctant to see me go, but
I told her I'd probably see her again in a couple of years,
for English Literature and maybe for Composition.

Chorus was a bigger challenge than I thought. My original
plan was to be a  rock singer, but the choir director, Mr.
Guccino, had other ideas. "First, we need to work on the
fundamentals, Wil," he explained.

It was kind of scary being in the choir, because we often
had to sing alone, in front of the entire class.
Eventually, I got over my stage fright and was able to keep
up with the rest of them.

We didn't do quite as well in Swimming. While our team did
OK for the next two meets, our competition was fierce for
the rest of the season. I pulled a groin muscle during
practice in early February, and that pretty much killed me
for the next three weeks. "It's no wonder," cracked Aaron.
"Wil's cock is so big, his muscles weren't strong enough to
hold it up!" Always a wise-ass.

Coach Byers was a little kinder. "Stuff happens, son," he
said, after the doctor looked me over. "You gotta take it
easy, so you don't re-injure the muscle," he said, gently.
"You're still making progress. I think next season will be
your year, Wil. You hang in there."

I nodded, then limped for the door. I didn't know exactly
where the groin muscle was or what it did, but it felt like
no matter what I moved, it hurt like hell, right in my
balls.

One weekend, while I was recovering, the phone rang.

"Hey, Wil. It's me, Pete."

Jesus, I thought, slapping my forehead. I hadn't thought
about Pete in weeks. "Hi, Pete," I said. "Listen, I'm sorry
for not getting back to you."

"That's okay, man," he said. "Didja listen to listen to the
records I gave you?"

"Yeah. They were great, man." I really had enjoyed them,
though I hated it when my sister snuck in here and played
her Monkees albums, when I wasn't around.

"Which one did you like the most?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. "It's a tie between 'Pet Sounds'
and 'Friends'," I said. "Both of them were great."

He laughed. "Groovy. You always were a sucker for those
Beach Boy harmonies, right?

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, sheepishly. "Listen, Pete, I
don't mean to throw you off the phone, but I kinda gotta
get back to my homework."

"I heard you were singing more," he continued.

How could he know that? "Uh, yeah. As a matter of fact, a
friend of mine at school convinced me to join the choir."

"Very cool," he said. "I had a hunch you'd do that. You
might just be a rock singer yet, man."

My lower abdomen suddenly throbbed and I let out a moan.

"Am I, uh... interrupting something?" he said, concerned.

"No, Pete," I said, gritting my teeth. "I just... pulled a
groin muscle a few days ago. It really hurts, man."

"Then I won't keep you long. Listen, uh, Wil," he said,
quietly. "March is gonna be a tough month for you. I want
you to be real careful."

What was he talking about? "For what?"

"Remember what I said before. Please, Wil," he said. "I
know you won't believe me, but please listen: stay away
from the person you think you love the most."

I'd had about enough of this. "I gotta go, Pete. Thanks
again for the records."

"Okay," he said. "Call me when you can."

I hung up the phone. This was really too weird.

                        *   *   *

At lunch the following week, I sat at a table with Mark and
Barry from the swim team. They spent most of the time
talking to each other, and barely included me in the
conversation.

I missed Ronnie. I wouldn't even mind hearing one of the
little twerp's stupid one-liners again. I glanced around,
hoping I could spot another friendly face from one of my
other classes, but everybody around me looked unfamiliar.

Down the aisle, I heard some raised voices.

"I don't care, I'm just sick of this shit!"

"Well, if that's how you feel, fine!"

"Yeah. FINE!"

I looked over and was surprised to see it was Sky and
Melissa. Melissa stormed off and out of the cafeteria,
through the side entrance. Sky looked completely miserable.

"Hey!" I yelled, waving him over.

He nodded and walked over to my table and sat down,
slumping his shoulders. "Hey, Wil," he said, obviously
down.

"Hey," I said, quietly. I dug into my roast beef. It was
dry and had too much fat on it. I cut the fat off and tore
it away from the pitiful slab of meat that was left. "The
food here really sucks," I said, trying to make idle
conversation.

"Yeah," he glumly replied.

In between mouthfuls, I looked up. Sky looked thoroughly
miserable. "You okay, man?" I asked.

He nodded. "Melissa is really pissing me off," he said,
exasperated. "I don't know what she wants outta me."

I continued to eat, but looked on him with rapt attention.
At times like this, the least I could do was listen to my
friend's problems.

"She's just so... fucked up!" he said, angrily.

"Sky," I said, sincerely. "Melissa's really cute. You're
lucky to have her." And she's real lucky to have you, I
thought to myself.

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. But she's just so goddamned...
frustrating!"

I started on my peas. They were cold, as usual.

"Don't worry about it, Sky," I said, soothingly. "You
guys'll work things out. It's kind of a give and take
thing, y'know?" Shit. I was starting to sound like Ann
Landers in the paper.

"You wanna... get together this weekend or something?" he
asked.

I thought for a minute. "Oh, you mean with Ginny?" I said,
mentioning that girl he'd talked about a few days before.

"If you want," he said. "Or maybe just you and me. We
could... I dunno, see a movie or something."

I'd been down this road before. It was too much to hope
for.

"Sorry, Sky," I said. "I gotta go to practice. I'm almost
well enough to get back on the swim team full-time. And I
got a shit-load of homework and stuff."

He looked disappointed. "Okay," he said, standing up. "But
call me if you change your mind."

"Okay, Sky." I was determined not to let Sky get to me. I
went back to my food. At least the desert tasted
reasonable.

"And... thanks for lettin' me talk to you," he said,
quietly.

I looked up and grinned. "Hey," I said. "That's what I'm
here for."

He smiled sadly and nodded.

                        *   *   *

The weather was pretty bad throughout most of February.
Even though it was outside of the usual hurricane season,
school was cancelled for two days while a huge tropical
storm rolled through Tampa with a vengeance. Aside from a
little dampness in a couple of the classrooms, though, the
school was pretty much undamaged. Or at least it was no
tackier than it was before the storm, anyway.

I was healing pretty well from my groin pull, to the point
where I could do some light exercises at the gym. Tricep
seemed to hurt me the most -- how that was connected to the
groin, I'll never know -- but I worked around it as best I
could. One day, I shot a look at myself in the mirror, when
Sky wasn't looking. I was taken aback. There was no
question, I was beginning to turn into a mini-hunk myself -
- almost a smaller version of Sky! I began to feel my groin
throb in response, but I almost didn't care. I held my
bicep up and flexed, and was shocked to see a little ridge
push up.

"Hey, Wil!" said Sky, sidling up to me. "Lookin' good, huh,
man?"

My face reddened. "I was just... seeing if I'd gotten any
bigger," I said, placing my dumbbell back in the rack.

"Hey, don't feel ashamed, Wil," he said, reassuringly.
"That's why we're here, right?"

I nodded.

"Let's check the measurements and see where we're at." Sky
pulled me over to a rusted file cabinet on one side of the
room, and pulled out a blue tape measure and a piece of
paper. "Here," he said, handing me the tape. "Put the tape
around my arm, and let's see where we're at."

My hands shook slightly as I rolled the tape over Sky's
arm. He skin was light brown and flawless as always. I
could smell a faint, sweet aroma of sweat, and his arms
were rippled with small veins and muscular indentations.
There were little blond hairs that trailed across the back
of his arm, then got thicker as they reached the forearm.
He pulled his right fist up in the classic body builder
pose and squeezed, and a huge ripple bounced up from his
upper arm.

"Hurry up, man!" he panted. "I can't hold this forever."

My hands shook slightly as I stretched the tape around his
arm. "16-1/2 inches," I read. I prayed he wouldn't notice
my nervousness.

"Damn!" he said, relaxing his arm. "I was sure I could hit
17 inches by now. Try my chest."

That turned out to be about 44 inches -- not bad, but Sky
was still unimpressed. His waist was still 26 inches, which
was really great. His abs looked as spectacular as ever.
His weight was at 160, which was the biggest he'd ever
been.

"Now you," he said, turning me around to face the mirror.

"I d-dunno, Sky," I mumbled.

"This is the only way we can see if you're makin' any
progress, dick-head!" he laughed.

I nodded. He checked off the chart we'd started in January.
Much to my surprise, I had gained nearly an inch in arms,
and two inches in chest. I was also up ten pounds, to 120.
I was still a lot smaller than Sky, but there was no
question -- I was catching up.

"Too cool, Wil!" he said, admiringly. "You're really
responding to the training."

I nodded. "Sky, could you... maybe check my height for me?"

Sky knew I was always sensitive about being the shortest
guy on the swim team. He let the tape hit the floor and
held it up.

"Stand against the wall," he ordered. He pinned the tape at
my feet and pulled it all the way up. "Five feet...four
inches!" he said.

"Wow!" I said, astonished. "I've grown two inches since
September!" I was absolutely astonished. Maybe that's why
my jeans hadn't been fitting me that well lately.

"I believe that's what we scientists refer to as your
'growth spurt,'" Sky said, flashing me a grin. "I hope you
haven't gained any inches anywhere else," he added quietly,
giving me a playful poke.

I rolled my eyes. "I can barely get the thing in my pants
as it is, asshole!" I shot back.

He laughed, and we went back to our workout.

                        *   *   *

Wednesday after chorus practice ended, Melissa came up to
me. I was surprised to see her, because usually whenever I
talked to her, Sky was around. This time, she was with a
cute little brunette.

"Hi, Wil," she said. "You sounded great today in class."

"Thanks," I nodded, grabbing my notebook from the shelf at
the front of the room.

"I have somebody I want you to meet," she said. "This is
Virginia Randall."

I turned, and saw a petite girl just under five feet. She
wore cool wire-rim glasses, and behind them were bright
gray eyes.

"Hi," she said, shyly. "I'm Ginny."

"Hi," I said, taking her hand. "I'm Wil."

"Melissa's told me all about you," she said, flashing me a
beautiful smile.

I hope not _everything_, I thought.

"Sky and I are gonna go out this Friday to a movie," said
Melissa. "You two wanna come along?"

I felt a pain in my heart. To hang out with Sky was one
thing, but it was getting to the point where I didn't like
being there when he and Melissa had their hands all over
each other -- which was most of the time.

"That's unless you're busy," she continued, seeing the look
on my face.

"No, no," I said, flustered. "Uh... yeah, I guess I could
go. But I gotta be home by ten. I've got a meet on
Saturday."

"I heard you swam," said Ginny, smiling. "You look really
great in that shirt."

I looked down. It looked like the same old shirt I always
had. But now that I thought about it, I guess it did look a
little tighter than it used to be.

"Thanks," I said. "Where do you guys wanna go?"

"Let's go see that cool new movie -- _2001_, at the Palace
Cinerama Theater downtown," replied Melissa.

I had heard of it, and even started reading the book, but
the movie had been sold out for weeks.

"Can you guys get tickets?" I asked.

Melissa nodded. "Sky's dad said he'd pick them up on the
way home from his office," she said.

"That'd be great," I said.

"So it's a date, then!" Melissa chirped.

Ginny looked at me expectantly.

I hesitated, then glanced at the two girls. I sighed.
"Yeah," I said, finally. "It'll be cool, right?"

Ginny smiled sweetly at me. God, she really was cute.

                        *   *   *

Friday night, the movie was spectacular. I'd never seen
anything like it. While we walked through the exit and back
to the car, I talked about it excitedly with Ginny.

"Those special effects were UNBELIEVABLE!" I enthused. "I
thought _Star Trek_ on TV was cool, but this was like... it
was like it was _real_!"

Ginny put her hand into mine as we walked. "I dunno, Wil,"
she said. "I thought the ending was a little confusing."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, there was nothing there." I launched
into a pseudo-intellectual explanation of what _2001_ was
all about. It was obvious to me that the aliens had found a
way to communicate with the astronaut, then transformed him
into some new form of life and sent him back to earth in a
little bubble, maybe as a kind of emissary. I figured it
was all some kind of allegory, but you could interpret it
several different ways.

Ginny looked at me with rapt attention. "I'm impressed,"
she giggled. "You got all that out of the movie?"

I nodded. "Oh, yeah. I've read Arthur C. Clarke before."

"Who?" she asked.

"The writer," I said.

Behind us, Sky and Melissa's voices were getting louder.

"Just shut up," she yelled. "I don't wanna talk about it
any more."

"But Melissa..." Sky whined.

"Shut up!"

Ginny and I turned. Melissa barged right through us and
down the sidewalk to the car, where Sky's father was
waiting. I glanced over at Sky. He looked at me, irritated,
and rolled his eyes.

"Women!" he muttered to me as he pushed passed us.

"Yeah," I said.

Ginny squeezed my hand tighter. "I guess Sky and Melissa
are having some problems."

I nodded. "They're both great people, you know," I said.

"Sky's lucky to have you for a friend, Wil," she said,
quietly.

I grinned. "You're not so bad, either," I laughed.

She laughed with me. Her voice sounded like bells.

"Let's go, kids," called out Dr. Jones from the car. "We
don't have all night."

I held the door for Ginny, then I crawled in after her. Sky
got in the front passenger side next to his dad and angrily
slammed the door. I glanced over to Melissa, who looked
real pissed-off about something. Sky's dad started the
engine and we sped down the street, picking up speed as we
hit the downtown bridge.

"So how was the movie?" said Dr. Jones.

"Man, it was great!" I said, snapping on my seatbelt.
"Easily the best science-fiction film ever made. I thought
_Forbidden Planet_ was good, but this was incredible."

He laughed. "So it gets the William G. Larson seal of
approval?"

"If it doesn't win the Academy Award," I said seriously,
"the director should sue Hollywood."

"How did you like it, son?" asked Sky's father.

Sky didn't answer. I looked up at him, and he was sulking
in his seat.

"Sky?" his father repeated.

"Huh? Oh, sorry Dad," he said. "Yeah, what Wil said. It was
cool."

"It had better be," replied his father, as he turned down
Bayshore Boulevard. "That cost us three-fifty a ticket!
Movie prices are getting totally out of control."

We dropped off Melissa at her house, but she ran up the
steps and slammed the door. Sky didn't even get out of the
car. When we got to Ginny's house, I walked her over to the
front porch.

"I really liked the movie, Wil," she said. "We should do
this again sometime."

I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for coming, Ginny."

We stood there nervously. She leaned over and whispered,
"thanks, Wil," and gave me a little peck on the cheek. I
grinned at her.

"G'night, Ginny!" I called, running back to the car.

"'Night, Wil! See you in school on Monday!"

Sky sulked all the way home. As I got out of the car, I
turned to him. "Hey -- call me over the weekend."

He nodded. I closed the car door and ran up the steps to
the porch, then on up to my room. I put on the _White
Album_ again on my stereo, and lay down on my bed. As I
stared at the ceiling, I ran all the images of the movie
through my head again. I felt like a whole world had opened
up to me, like I had actually been in outer space.
Unbelievable.

Then I thought of Sky, and felt a pang. I really should've
paid more attention to my friend. He was obviously having
some problems with Melissa. I wanted to help him, but I
knew I couldn't open myself up, just to get hurt again.
Besides, it would just jeopardize our friendship.

I yawned, closed my eyes, and quietly sang along with
"While My Guitar Gently Weeps," and dissolved into sleep.

                        *   *   *

Saturday morning, the coach agreed with me that my groin
pull had healed enough that I could participate in the last
three meets. By early March, season ended, and we finished
the year 15 and 6 -- not great, but not all that much worse
than last year. Coach Byers encouraged us to continue to
train at least twice a week. Some of us were going to keep
swimming during the summer on the Greater Tampa team, and I
had already made the tryouts.

Since both football and swimming season were over with, Sky
and I made it a regular thing to workout in the weight room
at least three times a week, which was pretty cool. I began
to get used to the strain of the various exercises, and got
to the point where I actually looked forward to the pure
physical challenge. I found it a relief from the mental
stress of studying and homework, which I was doing
constantly. The weather was hot enough that we had to work
out shirtless, since there wasn't any air conditioning in
the weight room.

"You need to do this more, Wil," said Sky, as he grabbed a
25-pound dumbbell from the rack. "You're really lookin' a
lot better, you know it?"

I looked up at the mirror. Sky and I stood together about
three feet apart. Compared to him, I thought I still looked
puny -- but I had to admit, I was getting a line down my
chest, and my arms and pecs were definitely a lot bigger
than they used to be. Sky's abs were looking really great.
His stomach glistened with a thin sheen of sweat.

"How many sit-ups are you doing every day, now, Sky?" I
asked.

He grinned and ran his fingers down his stomach. "I'm up to
400 a day, but I'm probably gonna increase that to 500."

"Wow," I said, quietly. "You really look great."

I felt a tingle in my groin. Every single part of Sky's
body was attractive to me, but I had to admit, his stomach
was probably his best feature -- next to his face. He
was... there was no adequate word to describe him, but
'beautiful' came closest. I sighed.

"Aaaaa, it's not that much work," he said, starting his
bicep reps. "I can knock out 400 sit-ups in under ten
minutes. The key is to do it every day, and that takes a
lotta discipline."

We finished our routine and headed for the locker room. It
was Friday, and Chuck, the gym manager, was shutting
everything down for the weekend.

"Gym's closing in ten minutes!" he yelled.

I shot him a glance, and he ducked away. Chuck and I still
avoided each other since the incident with Scott Michaels
back in December. Most of the school thought he was a hero
for 'saving' Scott after his 'accident', but Chuck and I
knew the truth.

"The weather's gonna be great this weekend," said Sky. "You
wanna go out with me on the boat?"

I pulled up my long pants and started putting on my socks.
"Saturday or Sunday?" I asked.

"Either way. I kinda had another fight with Melissa, so I'm
a free man," he said, pulling off his shorts.

"Gee, Sky. I'm sorry to hear that," I said, sincerely.

"It's no big deal. Melissa's just kind of... I dunno...
religious, I guess." He sighed. "She says she has to be 'a
good Catholic girl,' and all that crap."

I nodded. "Well, there's always Cynthia," I said, grinning.

Sky chuckled. "Naaa. She and Scott are now an item."

I was surprised. "Scott Michaels?"

I hadn't seen much of Scott since I'd bumped into him after
school in the bathroom. He'd been in study hall instead of
Phys Ed for the last couple of months. And I'd managed to
avoid talking to Cynthia since our brief encounter around
Christmas. I guess maybe she could accommodate Scott a
little easier than she could me.

He nodded. "Yeah. They seem to be inseparable now."

"So, you wanna go out on the boat on Sunday?" he asked,
buttoning up his shirt.

I thought for a moment. "You sure you know how to run that
thing?" I said, furrowing my brow.

Sky grinned. "Oh, yeah. I've already got my license and
everything. Just call me Captain Jones!"

I laughed and saluted. "Aye-aye, sir!"

                        *   *   *

Sunday, we arrived at the Marina just before noon. It was
overcast, but the weather was still pretty hot, especially
for spring. Sky proudly showed me his father's new boat --
a 45-foot Sea Ray Sundancer cabin cruiser christened "The
Sans Souci," which he explained to me was French for
"without care."

It was a beautiful ship, white with black and gray trim,
and it had a good-sized cabin in the center that could
sleep up to four people. Sky and his folks had taken one
like it all the way down to the Bahamas over the Christmas
holidays, and they liked it so much, they bought one.

"My dad told me not to crank it up past 30 knots," he
explained, "but on a ship this size, that's really movin'.
Hang on!"

We spent the next two hours tooling around Tampa Bay, going
underneath Gandy Bridge, and all the way out to the
Sunshine Skyway, which was an enormous series of bridges
that stretched for nearly five miles, linking the resort
cities of St. Petersburg and Sarasota.

"Wow," I said, as the boat passed under the concrete
pylons. "It's looks really beautiful from down here."

"Yeah, isn't it? Look over there!" Sky pointed to the
right, just as a couple of dolphins leaped out of the
water. We both laughed. Life on the ocean looked wonderful.

Around 2:30, we finished our lunch of ham and cheese
sandwiches that his mom had made for us. I sat on the
ledge, leaned way over and dipped my hand in the bay. The
water felt cool, and my fingers left little ripples in the
ocean as we slowly moved eastward. I could barely see any
land at all from here. For all I knew, we were a million
miles from anywhere.

"Hey," called Sky down from the bridge, "I'm burnin' up.
You need some sunscreen?"

"Yeah!" I yelled over the motor. "Throw me down some."

Sky cut the engine and darted down the steps to the aft
section, where I leaned back on the ledge.

"Here," he said. "Lemme put it on for you."

I turned around and he kneaded my flesh, working the green
goo into my back. It stung a little when he got to my
shoulders, which were already red and slightly blistered,
but it felt pretty good. I turned around and held my hand
out for the bottle. Sky ignored me, squirted some on his
hands, and began rubbing my chest. I looked up at him, but
he wouldn't look me in the eye. Instead, he methodically
worked the salve into my skin. My face turned red, and I
mentally commanded my erection to stay calm.

"Now, you do me," he said, quietly.

I took the brown bottle from him and put some on my face
and neck. Sky turned and lay face down on a towel on the
deck. I kneeled over and squeezed some of the liquid into
my hands and worked it deeply into his muscular back. I
worked him over for several minutes, tracing the powerful
line down his spine, which led into two round muscular
globes below, covered only by his thin shorts. My hands
shook slightly as they strayed below, rubbing the backs of
his legs and his inner thighs, which were covered by a
forest of light downy blond hairs. He stirred.

"That's great, Wil," he murmured. "You could be a real
masseuse."

"You mean a 'masseur,'" I corrected him. "One's a girl, the
other's a guy."

"Whatever," he said with a smile. "It still feels great."

My heart pounded as he rolled over on his back and grabbed
a pair of sunglasses. "Man, it's hot, isn't it?" he sighed.

I nodded, then squirted some more sunscreen into my hands
and reached for his muscular chest. The moment I felt his
skin, I felt my groin twinge and rapidly expand to its full
length. I prayed Sky wouldn't notice; out of habit, I had
deliberately worn some denim shorts to help give me a
little camouflage, just in case. I felt glad that my
endowment was sticking over to the side, instead of
straight down. That would've been a giveaway for sure.

Silently, I worked the green goo into his skin. Little
patches of gold-colored hairs dotted across the top of his
chest, and a small thatch of blond curls stuck out of each
of his nipples. I lightly traced my fingertips across them,
and Sky stirred and moaned quietly beneath me. I reached
for his sides, and he yawned and lay his arms over his
head. His underarms each had a thick patch of blondish-
brown hairs. My hands trembled again as I worked the cream
into his arms, taking care not to tickle him. My pulse was
racing. I had to restrain myself not to just lurch forward
and kiss him.

I continued to rub down his chest, to his stomach, and into
the inverted-V of hairs that trailed down into his shorts.
I could just barely see the top of a larger growth of blond
hairs in the waistband of his shorts. I stopped there,
afraid to go any further, and put the bottle down. My groin
throbbed with desire, and my heart pounded so loudly in my
chest, I was certain he could hear it.

"Sky?" I said, softly.

He didn't answer. I stared at him for a moment, then shook
my head and took a deep breath. I squirted one more blast
of sunscreen into my hands, and worked it carefully into
Sky's upper thighs. This time, I definitely heard a small
groan. I decided to ignore him. If he really wanted me to
do more, he was going to have to make the first move. I
continued stroking the green goo into his legs, all the way
down to his ankles, rubbing it in until his body glistened
with the golden rays of the sun.

I snapped the top of the bottle shut, spread out my towel
next to him and lay down on my stomach, praying desperately
for my erection to subside. We dozed for more than hour, as
the boat gently bobbed up and down in the surf.

Sometime after three o'clock, Sky punched me lightly in the
arm. "Hey," he said, quietly. "Let's get some more to eat."

                        *   *   *

A couple of hours later, we started making our way back.
"Man," I said, munching on the last of our sandwiches.
"Check out that sunset."

It was awe-inspiring. The sun was a giant blood-red blob
that hung low in the horizon. Bright orange and red rays
stretched out as far as we could see, and pools of gold
reflected back from the water and onto the boat. Sky cut
the motor and let us drift for awhile. I glanced over at
him. We were both shirtless, and both of us were getting
our summer tans back. The light caught Sky in just the
right way, and I felt my mouth go dry when his face turned
to mine.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," I said, averting my eyes. "I'm just kinda tired. We
should get back."

"We've got at least half an hour," he said. "I gotta go
below and take a leak. You need to go?"

I nodded and followed him down the steps. The lower portion
of the boat was fairly spartan, with dark wood paneling and
a few portholes. There was a small fold-out bed on the
right wall of the interior, along with a tiny bathroom next
to the stairs.

Modestly, I turned my head as Sky pulled down his swim
trunks and began urinating.

"Hey," he said, "don't be shy. Besides, we can't waste
water on the boat. C'mon and join me."

I looked up. He beckoned me over, and I walked up beside
him and pulled down my trunks. We stood there silently,
watching the yellow fluid trickle down and fill the bowl.

"Hey," he laughed. "What happened to your pubes?"

"It's a swim team thing," I explained, embarrassedly. "Our
team captain said it would help improve our times. The
season's over, so now I'm letting them grow back in."

"How'd you get away with that in gym class?" he asked. "As
if you don't get enough attention already."

I chuckled. "I guess I cheated a little," I said, grinning.
"I've been working out in the weight room almost every day
after Phys Ed, so I just avoided taking a shower with the
other guys. Even when I was with you, I just got dressed
and split."

Sky nodded. "Yeah, I was wondering about that." He looked
down at me again. "Maybe you should keep it shaved. It
looks pretty cool. If it doesn't make you swim faster, at
least it makes you look sexy."

The room was completely silent, except for the sound of me
trickling into the bowl. I shook off the last few drops.
Sky was still looking at me. My endowment hung low in the
bowl, almost down far enough to touch the metal surface.

"We should be gettin' back," he said, quietly.

"Yeah," I said. I froze for a moment, waiting for Sky.
Would he touch me? I was determined not to say or do
anything this time. Neither of us looked at each other. I
held my breath.

Sky zipped up his shorts and turned to walk up the stairs.
"I'll fire up the engine and get us back," he called. "When
you're done, come up and keep an eye out for me up front."

He left me alone in the room. I flushed the marine toilet
and watched the blue liquid swirl down the stainless steel
bowl, and the lid snapped shut. I pushed my organ back in
my trunks and stood there, shaking. I was furious with Sky.
He knew how I felt. What the fuck was he waiting for? Was
he just trying to torture me?

I went back up top and sat on the front of the ship. I
didn't speak to him until we saw the marina again.

As we tied up the ship at the dock, he turned to me. "You
wanna come over tonight?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Can't. I've got a lot of homework again.
Plus I have to practice some exercises for choir."

We rode home in silence in his dad's car. Halfway home, Sky
began making idle conversation, but I gave him monosyllabic
answers.

"Wil, are you mad at me or something?" he asked.

I longed to tell him how I really felt. Lying was easier.
"No. I'm just tired, Sky," I said. "It was a great
afternoon. Just drop me off at my place, and I'll see you
in school tomorrow."

                        *   *   *

Late Monday afternoon, I had just walked in the door from
school, when my mother called from the kitchen. "Wil!" she
yelled. "You've got a phone call! Please tell them to call
you on your own line from now on, honey."

I nodded. "Sorry, Mom," I said, taking the phone from her.
"Hello?"

"'It's the time, of the season... for loving'!" sang Pete
on the phone.

"Pete!" I exclaimed. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "It's me. Have you heard the new
Zombies album? Fuckin' amazing, man."

"No, I haven't," I replied, a little annoyed. "Listen,
Pete, I'm kinda busy, so..."

"Wil, I gotta see you, if you don't mind," he said,
suddenly serious. "It'll only take a minute."

I thought for a moment. Pete was a really weird guy, but he
was cool in his own way. At least maybe he could tell me
what was happening in music, since he kept up on this stuff
a lot better than I did.

"I can't come over today, Pete," I said. "I got homework
and stuff."

"No, no," he said. "I'll come to see you, man. You gonna be
there for the next couple of hours?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Then I'm on my way." The line clicked.

                        *   *   *

Promptly at 5:30PM, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it, Mom!"
I yelled, racing down the stairs, three steps at a time.

I opened the door, and just as I'd guessed, it was Pete.
"Hi, man," he said.

"So what's up, Pete?" I said, casually.

Pete really was a cool guy, and was exceedingly great-
looking, but something about him still made me worried.

"Nothing really," he said. "I was gonna be in your
neighborhood, so I just thought I'd, y' know, drop by." He
gave me a look that told me it was a lot more serious than
that.

"Hello," said a small voice off to my left. It was Sharon
on the couch, cuddling her ever-present cat, Samantha.

"Hi!" said Pete. "You must be Wil's sister... Sharon, is
it?"

I gulped. I couldn't remember ever telling Pete my sister's
name before.

"And who's this?" he grinned, reaching out to pet the
kitty. The cat hissed and folded its ears back, and let out
a loud, menacing growl.

"Shit!" he said, jerking his hand back. "Uh, sorry, Sharon.
I guess your kitty doesn't like me very much."

"Samantha is like that," Sharon said. "Some people she
loves, and some she just hates. She loves Wil." She
giggled.

Pete laughed. "I can see why," he said. "Wil, your room's
upstairs, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Right up here."

We trudged up the steps and I closed my door, then put on
_Pet Sounds_ in the background on the turntable.

"You're still listening to that," he said, approvingly.
"Very cool."

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "I've adopted one of the tracks
as my personal theme song."

"Don't tell me. 'I Just Wasn't Made for These Times,'
right?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I think I know just how Brian
Wilson feels."

Pete laughed again. He had a sunny, bright way of laughing,
one that made you feel like he was genuinely happy. "That's
because both of you are twisted geniuses," he said,
grinning, as he casually tossed his long blond hair back
over his shoulders.

"Spare me," I said, wincing. "But I like that line about
'they say I got brains, but they ain't doin' me no good.'
That one's been true my whole life." I sighed.

"Wil," he said, his eyes sparkling. "You're as smart as God
wanted you to be. Don't let it get to you, man."

Great, I thought. More religious crap.

"Hey. I like your new look," he said, smiling.

What was he talking about?

"Oh," I said. "Yeah, I got rid of the glasses. Contact
lenses. They're a lot of trouble, but I guess they look
better."

"Definitely," he said. "Eyes are the windows to the soul,
y' know."

"So Pete," I said, still a little annoyed, "what's up? You
got some new music for me?"

"Well, first," he replied, "I wanted to see if maybe you'd
have time to jam with us this week at the beach house. You
know, play keyboards with the band."

"Sorry, Pete," I said. "I'm tied up with a bunch of things.
I'm doing some stuff with my friend Sky, plus I got
homework. The usual."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. Well, maybe another time." He
hesitated, like he was afraid to tell me more.

"Is that it?" I asked, exasperated.

He looked at me deeply. "No," he said. "There's something
else. I had a dream last night. You were in it."

I laughed. "'I had too much to dream last night... too much
to dream...'" I sang.

We both chuckled, remembering The Electric Prunes' one and
only hit from the year before.

"Yeah," he said. "Something like that. But seriously,
Wil... you remember what I told you a few weeks ago?"

I remembered. He'd told me I should stay away from somebody
-- from 'the one I loved the most.'

"Yeah," I said, defensively. "What about it?"

"Something's gonna happen soon," he said, hesitatingly.
"Maybe this week, maybe in a month, I don't know. But
pretty soon."

"And you got this from your dream," I said, shaking my
head. "That's the hokiest thing I've heard today."

Pete looked at me sadly. "Something's gonna happen. There's
danger over water, Wil. Please -- stay away from whoever
this person is. If you don't, I know you'll both be hurt.
But I think you're safe after the start of summer."

"That would be June 21st -- summer solstice," I said.
"That's a week before my birthday."

He nodded. "Your life will be back to normal by then. But
there's terrible danger ahead. I can feel it."

"Bullshit," I said, rolling my eyes. "Pete, you're a cool
guy, and I really appreciate the records you gave me, but
come on. This is just too weird, you know?"

He nodded. "I know this is heavy, man," he said, "and I
don't expect you to understand. Shit -- even I don't
understand it completely."

He paused for a moment, then leaned towards me. "I never
told you how my father died," he said.

I shook my head.

"It was early last year," he began. "I told you he was the
minister of the Bay Vista Baptist Church. I had a dream in
February of him falling through space, screaming. I saw my
mom's face smiling at him."

"So?" I asked.

"Wil," he said, "my mom's been dead for five years. She
died of cancer in '63. I hadn't thought about her in a long
time. I told my dad about the dream, and he laughed it off.
A week later, he fell down some stairs at the construction
site for the new church building, and was paralyzed."

I looked up at him and stared. Tears were in his eyes.

"I saw him at the hospital," he said, quietly, "and there
were tubes and wires all over him. He could barely breathe.
When he regained consciousness, he spoke to me. He said,
'your mother's here with me, Pete. We're going to heaven
now.'" And that was it."

I suddenly felt a cold draft in the room. Pete was fighting
back tears. 'Sloop John B' was quietly playing out of my
speakers, but I could barely hear it.

"I knew he was gonna die, Wil, and I couldn't stop it," he
said, starting to weep.

Without even knowing what I was doing, I leaned forward and
hugged him. Pete put his long arms around me, then bent
down and put his head on my shoulders, and began shaking.

"It's okay, man," I whispered, as I put my arms around him.
Suddenly, I felt an electric attraction. Pete was so warm
and alive. My heart began to pound. His sobs eventually
faded away, and he turned and looked at me. I felt myself
becoming overwhelmed with his beauty. I'd never seen
anybody, man or woman, who looked as good as he did at that
moment.

"Thanks, Wil," he said, wiping his eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry
to burden you like this. It's been kinda tough since he
died. I've got... I've got enough money to live on, and I'm
all done with high school in a few months. It's just been,
you know, really hard."

I nodded, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. My mouth
was dry.

Pete stood up. "I just want you to know, I'm totally
serious, Wil. This is no bullshit."

"Al...alright, Pete," I said, trying to regain my
composure. "I'll remember what you said -- 'There's danger
over water.'"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you what it means," he said, sadly.
"I don't totally understand it myself, but I know it's bad.
Very bad vibes. Be careful, man."

I said I would, and I walked him back downstairs to his
bike.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, reaching for an elastic
rope on the back of the motorcycle. He brought up a paper
bag with some more records. "A couple of new albums I
thought you'd like," he said, handing them to me.

Hmmm, I thought. "Fifth Dimension -- _Age of Aquarius_, The
Zombies -- _Odyssey & Oracle_, and The Doors -- _Waiting
for the Sun_," I said, scanning the covers. "Cool. Thanks a
lot, Pete! You want these back when I'm done?"

"Naw," he grinned. "Consider them a gift. And don't forget,
the new Beatles album is out in a few months. I know you'll
want that one."

"You mean _Yellow Submarine_?" I asked. "I just got that a
few weeks ago."

"No," he said. "I heard it's gonna be called 'Abbey Road.'
The word on the street is that it's gonna be great."

I nodded, and he got back on the Honda. "Take care of
yourself, Wil," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't
forget what I said."

He revved the engine, backed down the driveway, and roared
off into the street. I stood on the porch and watched until
his bike turned at the light. I went back inside, and
Sharon was playing with Samantha the cat, watching her tear
up a piece of newspaper with her little fangs.

"Who was that?" said my sister, not even looking up at me.

"Just a friend of mine," I said. That cat really was cute.
It ferociously attacked the newspaper and tore it to
pieces.

"Samantha hates him," she said. "I think he's bad."

I felt a shiver down my spine. Maybe Pete did give off some
bad vibrations. But somehow I knew he was real sensitive,
and that he cared about me for some strange reason.

"No," I said, quietly. "He's cool. Maybe Samantha just
doesn't understand him."

Sharon nodded, and her cat continued to pounce. I idly
scratched the top of the kitty's head. She immediately
looked up at me and purred, and her eyes narrowed to slits.



Chapter 18

Sky and I were together in the shower at school, alone.
Dense clouds of steam filled the tiled room, but I could
still see him standing next to me. As the water cascaded
over both of us, I looked down his muscular back, down the
deep ridge leading to his powerful buttocks. His butt was
so white in contrast to his tanned body, it almost looked
like he was wearing white shorts.

The water spray felt warm and comforting, and the soap was
in my hand. Without warning, Sky turned around. He had a
raging erection. He playfully pulled it down, and let it
slap back up to his firm belly. I stared up at him,
shocked. He had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. Let's
do it, he seemed to say. Nobody will see us.

I shook my head. It's too dangerous. Against my will, I
felt my groin surge, and my penis began pulsing upward, in
time with my heartbeat. I stared at his body. Rivulets of
water trickled down his muscular chest, onto his chiseled
stomach and then to his groin below. I ached with desire.
In seconds, my arousal was as rigid as steel.

Sky reached out and pulled me close, then kissed me, as the
shower water cascaded over our heads. Suddenly, a
disembodied voice echoed through the shower.

"...And if you're the 13th caller, you can win one hundred
and thirty-eight dollars, cash, in our WLCY 138 contest!
All you need is the phrase that pays! Call now!"

I sat up in bed. It was morning, sometime in mid-March, and
my radio was blaring.

"FUCK!" I said out loud.

Wait a minute -- I knew the phrase. It was "WLCY -- great
music for Great Tampa Bay." I pulled on my shorts and raced
out to the hallway and frantically dialed the number.

"C'mon, pick up!" I muttered to the phone. "Pick it up!"
$138 was a lot of money in 1969.

About 20 rings later, a deep voice answered the line.
"Sorry, you're caller 11!" He immediately hung up.

"DAMN! There's no goddamned way these contests are legit,"
I said out loud. "They've gotta be rigged."

I staggered back to my bedroom and fell back into bed,
trying to remember the dream I'd just had about Sky. The
new hit "Dizzy" was playing out of the speaker.

"And that was Tommy Roe, with 'Dizzy,' on radio 138. This
is Pepper Lipsync, at five minutes past the big boss hour,
and we've got caller number thirteen on the line."

What a lame name, I thought. These radio guys are so hokey.
They're just a fast-talking, deep voice and no brain. Hmmm.
RJ had told me a couple of months ago I had a deep voice.
Maybe I could be on the radio someday.

"The phrase that pays!" I said out loud, mimicking the
voice on the radio. Not bad, I thought.

"That's it! You've WON!" yelled the announcer. The caller,
a girl, squealed at the top of her lungs.

I pulled the pillow over my face. "Just shut up and play
some music, please," I muttered.

"Now, here's an oldie but goodie from the past!" the DJ
yelled, as "Come Go with Me" came out of the speaker. "A
doo-wop classic, from nineteen hundred and fifty seven...
here's The Dell Vikings!"

I sang a few lines with the radio. Man, that was a great
song. My parents used to listen to that one all the time.
They ought to have radio stations that played nothing but
great old rock songs from the past, I thought. Some of this
new shit just sucks.

With great reluctance, I forced myself to roll over, get
out of bed, and get ready for school.

                        *   *   *

Today was D-Day, March 12th. I was in the lunchroom at
school, and stared down at the envelope in my hand, too
terrified to open it. The 3rd quarter report card inside
would determine my fate for the next year. My parents had
promised me that if I could just keep my grades up, it
would cinch the deal for me to go back to the LaFontaine
Institute for 10th grade. My heart pounded.

I glanced around the cafeteria. All the teenage faces I saw
looked so... so normal, so happy. The atmosphere at the
private school seemed a lot more sedate, even dull by
comparison. But I felt so out-of-place here sometimes.
Maybe being with other brainy kids was the fate God had
meant for me.

Shit. Half the time, I wasn't sure if there was even a God
at all. It'd been in all the papers lately -- "Is God
Dead?" and all that crap, on magazine covers. Maybe they
were right. The rest of the time, I convinced myself that
God did exist, but all he did was torment us for his own
amusement. The stupid asshole.

I shook my head. Either way, I thought, we were totally
fucked, on a cosmic level. I looked at the envelope again,
closed my eyes, held my breath, ripped open the flap, and
yanked out the piece of paper. I opened my eyes, and my
heart stopped. I had pulled it off: straight A's. For the
first time in my life, I felt faint.

"Hey, stranger!" said a feminine voice to my right. I
looked up, and it was Ginny, from the school newspaper. She
and I had gone out a couple of times over the last few
weeks, always with Sky and Melissa in tow. But with those
two temporarily split up, I hadn't even thought to call
her.

"Hi, Ginny," I said, trying to casually cover up my report
card with my right hand. "How are things at the 'Tampa
Central Observer'?"

"All the news that fits," she sighed, sitting down next to
me. "You gonna eat that roll?

I pushed it towards her. "Go ahead."

"Thanks," she said, eating it hungrily. "I'm on a diet. I'm
trying to only eat two meals a day."

"You?" I said. "You look fine to me." More than fine,
actually. Though a lot of people looked at Ginny like she
was just a bookworm, I could see she had more than just a
warm personality. Although we had yet to see each other
naked -- and probably never would, I thought.

"I don't get enough exercise," she said. "Jocks like you
and Sky don't have that problem. How's he been, by the way?
I haven't seen either of you for a couple of weeks."

I felt embarrassed. I silently cursed myself for not
calling her.

"I... I guess he's okay, Ginny," I said. "I've been...
kinda busy myself."

I tried desperately to think of an excuse. "Uh, there's
this guy I know who's putting together a rock band over in
St. Petersburg. He's asked me to play keyboards for him,
and I've... been occupied with that." That was at least
sort of true, in a way.

"Really?" she said. "I knew you were in the chorus, but I
didn't know you wanted to be a rock star." She looked at me
carefully. "I think there's a lot going on with you under
the surface, Wil. You keep a lot inside, don't you?"

My face flushed and I looked away. Had she guessed that I
was completely infatuated with Sky? Before I could answer,
I heard a booming voice from in front of us.

"HEY! Guess who almost made the Honor Roll!"

I looked up and it was Sky and Melissa. Both had their arms
around each other, and Sky looked as happy as I'd ever seen
him. He hopped over the back of the chair in front of me
and plopped down on the seat, waving a printed form in his
hand.

"Take a look at this, man -- 4 B's, two A's, and a C!" Sky
exclaimed. "I've never made an 'A' before in my life, and I
actually got two in the same quarter. My dad is gonna have
a heart attack!"

We both laughed. "Hey, congratulations!" I said. "Maybe now
your dad will get you that GTO for your birthday."

"It's a cinch!" Sky said, happily. He grinned and put his
hand on my forearm and gently squeezed it. "It's because of
you, Wil," he said. "You've been helpin' me on and off with
my homework and stuff, and makin' me prepare for tests.
That's what really put me over the edge."

His hand felt warm to my touch. I felt my pulse increase. I
pulled my arm away and glanced towards Ginny, who was
eyeing me suspiciously.

"So how'd you do, Wil?" he asked, excitedly. "Compared to
us mere mortals, that is." Sky and Melissa both laughed.

"I did... okay, I guess," I muttered, looking down and just
praying that he and his girlfriend would leave me in peace.

"Lemme see!" he said.

Before I could stop him, he snatched the paper out from
under my closed hand. I braced myself.

"HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed. At least 20 nearby students in
the lunchroom stopped eating and looked over to see what
was happening. "You got straight 'A's'! Un-fuckin'-
believable, man!"

I grinned. "Yeah," I said, quietly. "I guess I did."

"That's wonderful, Wil!" gushed Ginny, who hugged me and
kissed my cheek. "I think out of the 3200 students here,
less than 1% ever get straight 'A's'. Looks like you'll be
back on the front page of my paper again this week."

"This is a cause for celebration," said Sky. "Let's go out
this Friday night, the four of us. You up for it, Wil?"

I glanced over at Ginny. She smiled at me and nodded,
expectantly.

"What the hell," I said, grinning. "Where do you guys wanna
go?"

Ginny suggested _Goodbye Columbus_, which was playing at
one of the local theaters. I knew it was rated 'R,' but
Sky's father would be driving, and he didn't mind the
subject matter. I'd already read the book, and thought it
was pretty wild stuff. My folks were pretty liberal about
these things; I think they'd probably let me see anything
up to but not including hardcore porno, as if any theater
in Tampa would ever show something like that.

"This is so great, Wil!" said Sky, grinning from ear to
ear. "It looks to me like each of us has rubbed off a
little on the other."

That's a weird way to put it, I thought. "What do you
mean?" I asked.

He laughed. "Y' know how I always said you and me were like
the brains and the brawn?"

I nodded.

"Well, it seems like you're getting some more brawn..." he
started.

"...and Sky's finally getting some more brains," finished
Melissa. She laughed and kissed him on the lips. Sky
wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, deeply.

My face reddened and I forced myself to smile. Ginny
glanced over at me, and I thought I saw concern in her
eyes. Then it passed, and she smiled, reached over, and
gently squeezed my hand.

                        *   *   *

Later on at home, my folks went into orbit when they saw my
grades. "This is wonderful, Wil," said my mother. "I only
made straight-A's once in my entire academic career, and
never when I was as young as you are."

"We're really proud of you, son," said my father, beaming.

I nodded. "Does this... does this mean now I can go back to
LaFontaine?" I asked.

"Well," said my Dad. "Let's not be too hasty."

My face fell. But they had promised...

"Oh, you mean for next _year_!" he exclaimed, laughing. "I
thought you were asking if we could transfer you over next
week!"

I laughed with relief. "No," I said, shaking my head. "I'll
stay at Tampa Central for the rest of the school year.
We've only got three more months of school left anyway."

My mother frowned. "I thought you were happy in public
school, Wil," she said. "You seemed to be making all kinds
of new friends, and you did so well on the swim team."

I thought for a moment. She was right. I had been pretty
miserable for the last seven months, but that was only
because I felt like I wasn't where I thought I belonged.
Maybe I was looking at things the wrong way. Maybe going to
regular high school really wasn't so bad, after all.

"Tell you what, Wil," said my dad, looking at my report
card again. "If by July you still want to go back to
LaFontaine, we'll do it. We'll leave it up to you. And
that's a promise."

"Thanks, Dad," I said.

Just then, the upstairs phone rang.

"WIL!" yelled a voice from upstairs.

I looked over at the staircase, and there was my kid sister
Sharon, holding a Barbie doll in one arm, and Samantha the
cat in the other. The cat looked bedraggled, like it'd
rather be anywhere else.

"It's Sky!" she yelled. "For you!"

I dashed up the stairs and grabbed the hallway phone.

"Hey, Sky!" I said, excitedly. "Have I got some news for
you!"

"Me, too," he said, dully. I knew immediately something was
wrong. He sounded like somebody had totally let the wind
out of his sails.

"What's up?" I said, concerned. "Your folks must be really
excited about your grades."

"Oh, yeah -- they are. Things are great," he said,
sarcastically.

I was puzzled. "Then what's the problem?" I asked.

Sky sighed. "It's Melissa," he mumbled. "She's pissed-off
at me again. I don't think we'll be able to go out Friday
night. Sorry, Wil."

Shit. That meant I'd have to call up Ginny and cancel.
Technically, I could still take her by myself, but I felt a
lot more comfortable going along with Sky. Greater strength
in numbers, I thought.

"That's okay, Sky," I said. "Maybe we can, I dunno... hang
out or something."

"Yeah," he said. "See ya tomorrow in school."

We both hung up the phone.

"How's Schuyler?" called up my mom.

"Huh?" I said. "He's fine, Mom. He almost made the honor
roll this quarter."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "That's wonderful! I bet Sky
and his parents are thrilled."

"Yeah," I said, walking into my room and closing the door.
Real thrilled.

                        *   *   *

Friday at noon, I was having lunch with Sky at the
cafeteria. Baked lasagna and green beans -- not one of my
favorites -- but at least the brownie dessert was edible. I
was trying to keep up Sky's spirits. He was normally such a
happy-go-lucky person. I was really troubled to see him so
down.

"Hey, Larson!" I heard from behind me. I turned, and it was
Mark, one of my friends from the swim team. I hadn't seen
him that often since the season ended a few weeks ago.

"You doin' anything tomorrow afternoon?" he asked. "Barry's
got his family's speedboat for the whole day, and we're
gonna go skiing around St. Pete Beach."

"Sounds cool," I said. I glanced over at Sky. He seemed
totally preoccupied, almost like he wasn't there. "Sky, you
interested in going skiing with us?" I asked.

He looked up. "Huh? Oh, yeah... maybe."

Mark nodded. He had met Sky through me a couple of times
before.

"You two guys are welcome to come along," he said,
grinning. "Be at my place by 9:30AM. And bring some food
and stuff!" he called running down the aisle.

"Who gives a shit?" muttered Sky, as he ate another bite of
lasagna.

"C'mon, man," I said. "It'll be fun. Maybe it'll get your
mind off..."

He shot me a glance.

I didn't finish the sentence. This wasn't like Sky. He'd
been a lot moodier lately than I'd seen him in the past.

"Alright, I'll go," he said, finally. "But see if you can
bring some beer. I think I need to get really wasted."

I nodded. If anything would put Sky in a better mood, I was
all for it.

                        *   *   *

Saturday was a perfect early Spring day. "Summer-like
weather" was how the local TV meteorologist called it. The
sun was blazing and Tampa Bay was choppy, but manageable.
Mark's speedboat wasn't huge, but it was surprisingly
powerful: it had a giant 200-horsepower Johnson motor
mounted on the back, and the boat was still big enough that
the five of us could actually hang out without stumbling
over each other.

Mark and Barry manned the rudder, since they had a lot more
boating experience than any of us, except for Sky, who had
piloted a bunch of boats that his father had owned over the
years. In addition to the four of us, Scotty, a husky
junior Sky knew from the football team, was along for the
ride as well.

We had a blast and a half all morning. We each took turns
racing and skiing all over the bay, from Gulfport to St.
Pete, and even as far north as Treasure Island. I'd almost
taken a spill when they took one turn a little too sharply
around Bay Vista Park, but I caught myself just in time and
narrowly avoided skiing into the remnants of an old dock.
Scotty had never skied before, and he was the brunt of a
lot of jokes and laughter, since he never seemed to be able
to stay up for more than about ten seconds at a time. "I
guess I'm better at hangin' out than I am skiing," he
laughed.

During lunch, Sky started digging through one of the
coolers. "Hey," he said, "I thought there was gonna be
beer."

I grinned and winked. "Yeah, yeah, that was the deal," I
said. "Over here." I opened up the second cooler, pulled
out an inner layer of white Styrofoam hidden under the ice,
and revealed a six-pack of Michelob. "Voila!"

"Cool, Larson!" said Mark, who reached past me to grab a
can. "Definitely a man of class."

I hoped my parents wouldn't notice I had snagged a 6-pack
out of the case from the utility room in our house.

"Thanks, Wil," said Sky, sipping slowly.

"Just one per person, guys," I cautioned. "I don't want
anybody to get completely tanked out here. We could really
get in trouble, y' know?"

The five of us chowed down on our sandwiches and finished
off all the Michelob. I had tuna fish -- one of the few
kinds of fish I could stand -- and pretended to drink my
beer, but wound up surreptitiously dumping most of it over
the side. I still couldn't stand the taste of the stuff,
but I didn't want to be left out of the group.

"Who's up next?" yelled Barry, revving the  motor.

Sky poked me in the ribs. "How 'bout you and me," he
grinned. "Let's show these losers how it's done."

I laughed. Sky and I had water-skied for years during
summer vacation, and we'd always tried to out-maneuver the
other in daredevil tactics. I could probably beat him in
terms of overall skill, but Sky was always a little more
adventurous than me, and he often pulled off his stunts
better than either of us expected. But sometimes he scared
me with the chances he took.

We jumped overboard, while Barry set up the tow lines and
Mark gunned the engine. I swam out behind the boat and
slipped on my skies, and Sky did the same.

"You ready?" yelled Barry.

We got into position and gave the nod, and the boat took
off with a jerk. In seconds, we were zipping along at about
20 knots.

The Bay was a lot rougher than it had been earlier that
morning. My skies bounced hard over the surf, and the spray
peppered my body like little BB's. There was a loud whoop
from my right, and I glanced over at Sky, who held on to
the tow rope with one hand and gave me the finger with the
other. I grinned and shook my head. Sky looked fantastic.
His blond hair whipped back in the wind, and I could see
every muscle straining in his tanned arms and chest as we
flew across the water.

After about five minutes, the boat made a long, meandering
turn as we edged out into Tierra Verde Harbor.

"What's the matter?" yelled Sky to the guys in the boat.
"Are you a buncha wussies? Come on, put this fuckin' thing
in gear!"

"I gotta slow down," yelled back Mark. "Too many other
boats around."

"WUSSY!" yelled Sky.

Suddenly, we lurched and headed back out to open sea. The
boat picked up speed. This was more like it, I thought.

"Hey!" I yelled at Sky. "Try this, big-shot!" I lifted one
foot out to the side and effortlessly skied on one foot.
It's a lot harder than it looks, let me tell you. Sky
grinned and lifted his ski up, then dropped it down
slightly and let the tip drag into the water, sending a
geyser of water behind us. I laughed. He always liked to
one-up me.

The boat sped faster. The wind ripped past my ears, roaring
so loud, I could barely hear a thing. We must be going at
least 30, 35 knots by now, I thought. The water surface
below me was a blur. I looked up and saw a warning buoy up
ahead.

"Hey!" I yelled up at Mark. "We're going past the boundary
marker!" They didn't seem to hear me. Seconds later, I
heard a metallic thud to my right and a loud splash. I
turned and saw a smaller buoy overturned in the water
behind us, then right itself back up again.

Sky was gone. His tow line handle dragged in the water next
to me, flopping back and forth in the waves.

"SHIT!" I screamed. "STOP THE BOAT!"

Mark heard me that time and cut the power immediately. I
slipped out of my skies and swam back to the buoy at top
speed. Fuck, I thought, holding on to a rusted metal bar on
the side. He's gotta be here somewhere. I paddled off to
the left where I thought I saw some movement, and found one
of his skies floating on the surface. But I couldn't see
Sky anywhere.

I began to panic. If my friend was unconscious and
underwater, he could drown in only a couple of minutes. I
held my breath and went under and opened my eyes. The salt
water stung like hell. After thirty seconds, I realized it
was too deep and murky for me to see anything. I popped
back up to the surface and spun around. Mark was moving the
speedboat slowly forward.

"You find him yet?" he yelled, concerned. The others were
frantically looking in every direction.

"No!" I yelled. "Be careful with the boat! He could be
floating around somewhere!"

Mark nodded and I turned back around in the water. I tried
desperately to think this out logically. We'd been coming
from the south, so Sky must've clipped the buoy from this
direction. I swam off as fast as I could to the right,
cursing my bad eyesight; I'd left my contacts at home,
knowing I'd never me able to wear them in the water.

Time was running out. Even though I still hadn't made my
mind up about God, I started to pray.

"Listen, whoever you are," I said out loud, my eyes filling
with tears. "Please don't let my friend die. I swear, I'll
make it up to you someday. Please, God. And I'm sorry about
calling you a stupid asshole in school the other day."

As if to answer my prayers, about fifty feet away, I
finally found him. He was face down in the water, and there
was a reddish slick on the surface. I tore over as fast as
I could.

"Sky!" I choked. "Oh, FUCK!" I immediately flipped him over
on his back and hoped that he was still breathing. "Over
here!" I screamed. "He's bleeding! Hurry up!"

I started pulling on Sky's chin with my right arm, keeping
his face above water, and using my left to paddle. Mark
carefully pulled the boat up beside us, and the other two
helped me drag Sky's lifeless body up onto the deck.

"Shit!" cried Barry. "We gotta call the Coast Guard!"

"There's no room for a radio in here, schmuck!" yelled
Mark, angrily. "Let's just get back to the dock, fast!
They've got an emergency medical guy there."

Sky looked so helpless lying on the floor of the boat,
unmoving. His eyes were closed, and there was a large
bruise on his forehead. I dropped to my knees and felt for
a pulse. There was none.

"Oh, FUCK!" I cried. "We gotta give him CPR!"

I knew Sky's lungs were probably blocked. I turned him over
onto his chest and started pushing on his back as hard as I
could. Nothing happened. I pulled his waist up and squeezed
low, under his stomach. I felt a spasm, and he vomited what
looked like at least a gallon of seawater.

"Holy shit," said Scotty, dazedly. "I think I'm gonna
puke."

"Give me a hand!" I yelled.

We turned Sky over again on his back, and I grabbed his
head. I sucked in as much breath as I could, held his nose,
and put my mouth on his, then breathed out slowly, just as
they'd taught us in the Red Cross class last year. I
couldn't find a pulse. Sky still wouldn't breathe. I
counted to ten, put my hand on his chest and gave him a
dozen pushes. I waited ten seconds again, pushed the air
into his lungs again, and repeated the chest compressions.

Mark, Barry, and Scotty stared at me, their faces ashen. I
began to panic. I forced myself to stay calm, trying
desperately to remember all the lessons in that two-day
class. I cursed myself for not paying closer attention
during the lectures. I leaned over and continued to breathe
air into his lungs.

"Does he know what he's doin'?" asked Scotty, standing
behind me.

"Shut up, dickless," snapped Mark. "Leave Wil alone."

At last, after almost a minute, Sky choked and vomited
again, a mixture of bile and sea water.

"Shit," he moaned, coughing and spitting. "What happened?"

I almost burst into tears. "Thank God!" I cried,
exhaustedly. "We thought you were dead!"

"Fuck, man," said Mark, almost in shock. "You scared the
livin' shit out of us, Sky. Oh, god -- look at your leg!"

I looked down. There was a huge gash on his left knee, and
blood was pouring out all over the boat.

"It hurts like shit!" Sky wailed.

"Now I _know_ I'm gonna puke," moaned Scotty, who was
definitely looking pretty green.

"Get us back to the dock, Mark," I said, still shaking.
"Right, now. And take it easy. Let's not have a fucking
wreck on the way, OK?"

Mark nodded and throttled the boat up to speed. Barry held
a couple of paper towels on Sky's leg, and I sat on the
deck, with Sky's head in my lap. In ten minutes, we were
back at the Gulfport dock. The emergency medical guy looked
up at us and winced when we carried the wounded Sky over to
his booth.

"I guess I could take care of that leg if you're really
desperate," he said, "but you'd really be better off taking
him to the Pinellas Park Hospital. It's less than two miles
away."

We drove him the ten blocks from the Marina over to the
hospital, using Scotty's dilapidated Volkswagen van. Once
we made it to the emergency room, I immediately called
Sky's parents and gave them the whole story, leaving out
the part about the beer.

"You did the right thing, Wil," said Dr. Jones on the
phone. "I can't thank you enough for looking after my son."

Shit, I thought. It was my fault he was here at all. I was
the one who'd dragged him out today in the first place.

"I'm really sorry this happened, Dr. Jones," I said,
sincerely. "It was my fault. Sky only came with us today
because of me."

"No, no," he said. "These things happen. Give us half an
hour, and we'll meet you there at the hospital."

By 4:00PM, Sky was all stitched up, and he had a large,
cartoon-sized bandage on his left leg. Dr. Jones and I
helped Sky into the car, on crutches. My friend was a
little groggy from the anesthetic, but still pissed-off.

"My leg still hurts like shit," he moaned.

"Calm down, son," said his father. "We'll get you home and
put you on that pain medication the doctor gave you."

I opened the back door to get in.

"Thank you again, Wil," said his mother. "The other boys
told us how you saved Sky's life. This could've been a lot
worse if you hadn't been there. These water accidents are
always terrible."

Water accidents. Jesus! I had completely forgotten Pete's
warning from a week earlier: _"There's danger over water."_
This must've been what he meant. But he was wrong -- I had
managed to save Sky, after all. There was no big tragedy.
Yeah, there was a little bump on his head, and he'd have a
scar on his leg, but other than that, he was going to be
fine.

I felt someone kiss my cheek. I looked up, and it was
Carol, Sky's older sister.

"Thanks, Wil," she said, softly. "I never told you how much
of a good influence you've been to Sky over the years. We
love you."

My face flushed slightly, and I grinned. "Thanks, Carol," I
said. "It's the least I could do."

We got into Dr. Jones' Cadillac and rode back to Sky's
house. Sky's father gave us both a stern lecture on the way
about water safety, and how we both should've known better
than to be going so fast. Sky shot me a glance and rolled
his eyes, then laughed softly. I shook my head and grinned
back at him.

I did it, I thought. I saved him. Now, I could finally
relax. I couldn't wait to throw this back into Pete's face.
That mystical stuff was such crap, I thought.

                        *   *   *

Sunday morning, I felt great. The sun was pouring through
my windows, and the clock radio clicked on with Blood,
Sweat & Tears' new song 'You've Made Me So Very Happy.' I
really did feel happy, I thought. I had saved my best
friend's life. I felt like, for once, I finally made a real
positive difference for somebody, somewhere. All was right
with the world.

"Wil!" called my mother outside my door.

"Yes, Mom?" I answered, pulling up the sheets, lest she
caught a glimpse of my nakedness.

She opened up the door and stuck her head in. "Oh, good --
you're awake," she said. "Listen, honey, you really should
go over and visit Sky, and see how he's doing. I'm worried
about his leg."

I nodded.

"That was wonderful, what you did for him yesterday," she
said, smiling. "Now, aren't you glad we made you take those
Red Cross classes last summer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Those were MY idea, Mom!" I whined.

She laughed. "I remember it differently," she said, shaking
her head. "Anyway, you should get dressed and go over to
Sky's house, just to see how he is."

"Okay," I said. I waited for her to close the door, then
jumped out of bed, grabbed a pair of shorts and put them
on. I padded down the hall to the bathroom and looked both
ways. "Hmmmm," I said to myself. "Coast looks clear."

I walked inside, turned on the light and locked the door. I
glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. Not bad, I
thought. The muscles were coming in pretty well. Still not
as good as Sky's, but I was getting there. I yanked off my
shorts. Whoa, I thought, bouncing my morning erection up
and down. I guess I was a lot hornier than I thought.

I fired up the shower and got it to just the right
temperature, then slid open the glass doors and hopped in.
The water felt great. I still had the remnants of a slight
sunburn from yesterday, but I was used to that. I turned my
back to the water and began soaping down my body. Mmmmm, I
thought. It felt great. I looked down and was somewhat
surprised to see my arousal was still at full attention.
Well, there's only one way to take care of that, I thought,
smiling to myself.

I grabbed the soap and lathered up my hands, then began
stroking myself, leaning my shoulder against the tile wall
for support. The hot water splashed down my back. I looked
down and saw trickles of water flowing down my chest and
into my groin. I thought of how great Sky had looked
yesterday skiing next to me -- his handsome face laughing,
his big arms, his muscular stomach.

I felt my pulse race. My strokes quickened, and I began to
gently squeeze my balls. Now, I could see Sky's face next
to mine. I was kissing him again, only it wasn't CPR this
time -- it was long and passionate, and he put his hand on
the back of my head. I let go of my balls and reached up
and massaged my chest, lightly pinching one of my nipples.
It sent a little electric shock of pleasure through my
nervous system.

I grabbed a little more soap, then used both hands at once
on my engorged member. It seemed so massive, I thought it
would burst at any moment. My thrusts grew faster, more
intense. At last, I felt my balls tighten up with the
impending orgasm, and I instinctively clenched my buttocks
and let out a small moan. Seconds later, I exploded all
over the shower wall -- once, twice, three times, then
several smaller dribbles. I almost cried out with the
intensity. I felt light-headed, and dizzily reached up and
grabbed the shower head for support.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the bathroom door.

"Son, are you in there?" yelled my father. "Other people
have to use this thing, too, y' know."

"Almost done, Dad!" I yelled back. Hastily, I turned the
shower head over to the tile wall, in a desperate attempt
to wash the 'evidence' down the drain. I prayed that nobody
had heard me. I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and
dried myself off. I glanced at my face in the mirror and
winced. I definitely looked guilty of something, I thought.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and unlocked the door.

"It's about time," snarled my father. "Between you and your
mother, it's impossible for anyone to use the damned
bathroom in this house."

"Sorry, Dad," I mumbled, walking quickly past him to my
room.

                        *   *   *

Half an hour later, I jogged the two blocks down the street
to Sky's house and rang the bell. Dr. Jones opened the
door, and he smiled broadly the moment he saw me.

"Come on in, Wil," he said. "Glad you could stop by. Sky's
in the kitchen, just resting up."

I heard voices from the other room, and I walked from the
living room through the swinging doors that led into their
kitchen. Sky had his left leg perched up on a small stool,
and Melissa was sitting in his lap, giggling, with her arms
wrapped around his neck. They turned and looked up at me.

"Hey, hero!" said Sky.

"Wil!" cried Melissa, jumping up and running over to me.
"Oh, thank you so much for what you did yesterday," she
said, giving me a big hug and a kiss.

I looked over at Sky, who grinned at me. "Women!" he
silently mouthed, rolling his eyes.

"When I heard about what happened," said Melissa
breathlessly, "I got over here as quickly as I could," she
said, wiping away some tears. "Sky could've... he could've
died if it wasn't for you, Wil."

He almost died _because_ of me, I thought. It was totally
my fault that he was there in the first place.

"It wasn't a big deal," I said, really meaning it. "I'm
just glad he wasn't seriously hurt."

"My leg doesn't hurt at all at the moment," Sky said,
laughing. "In fact, I'm floatin' on these pills. Whoo-ee!"

"Give me some of those," I said, laughing. "I need
something to ease my pain." I really did, I thought.

"No, no," said Dr. Jones, who'd just entered the kitchen
behind me. "Those are strictly prescription. There'll be no
funny business with drugs in this house."

"Sorry, sir," I said, meekly. "I was just joking around."

"Drugs are no joking matter, Wil," he said to me, sternly.
He turned back to Sky. "Son, are you feeling any better
now? How's that bump on your head?"

Melissa was back on Sky's lap, and he was grinning ear to
ear. The drugs were definitely doing their job, I thought.

"Feelin' great, Dad," he said, giving Melissa a big, sloppy
kiss.

My heart sank. "I, uh... I gotta get going," I said, moving
towards the door.

"Hey, Wil!" said Sky.

I turned back at him, and his face softened. "Thanks again,
man," he said. "I really mean it."

We nodded at each other. "Glad to see you're almost back to
normal," I said. "See you tomorrow in school."

"You're staying home Monday, son," said his father. "I
don't want you limping around on that leg with all those
stitches. If you're feeling up to it on Tuesday, maybe you
can go back then."

"Okay. Well, so long, guys," I said, and left.

The two blocks back to my house felt like two miles. I felt
completely miserable. How could I let this happen? I'd
almost managed to push Sky out of my life for the last
three months, and now, I couldn't stop thinking of him
again. I cursed myself for being so weak. I should give
Ginny a call, and maybe see if she'd like to hang out
today, or something.

By the time I got back to my yard, I was surprised to see a
big black Honda motorcycle sitting in my driveway. It had
to be Pete's. I wondered why he'd come over without calling
first. I walked up the porch and into the living room.
There he was, looking better than ever. For some reason,
Pete seemed a little more dressed-up than normal, with a
button-down shirt and nice-looking slacks.

"Wil," said my mom. "We've been talking to your friend Pete
Woods for the last fifteen minutes. He's had a lot to tell
us."

I'm sure he has, I thought. "Hi, Pete," I said.

"Hi, Wil," he replied. "I thought I'd swing by just to see
if you'd like to, y' know, maybe hang out and jam over at
the beach house."

I paused. I'd already finished my homework for the weekend,
and Sky seemed preoccupied. "Yeah, sure," I said, at last.
"My busy social schedule is open for the day."

"Excellent," he said, hopping off the couch. "Nice to meet
you, Mr. and Mrs. Larson." He turned to me. "Let's hit the
road, sport," he said, clapping me on my shoulder.

In minutes, we were hurtling over one of the bridges that
dotted Tampa Bay. "Why'd you come over today?" I yelled,
over the deafening wind in our faces.

"The karma felt right," he yelled back. "Hold on tight."

We roared up the metal grating on the breakaway part of the
bridge, down highway 19, and over to St. Petersburg Beach.
By 2:00, we were walking into his garage, which was empty
except for the same instruments that had been there the
last time.

"I thought you said we were gonna jam today," I said,
looking around for his other bandmates, as Pete closed the
garage door.

"Huh?" he said, looking up.

"You know," I said, irritated. "With the _band_."

He looked preoccupied. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Listen, Wil,
I... I just had to talk to you again."

I was starting to get angry. "That again," I said, rolling
my eyes. "Listen, Pete. Yesterday, I was out with my friend
Sky. He almost died while we were out on a boat."

Pete nodded. "I know," he said, quietly. "I had a feeling
something like this was comin'."

I jumped off my seat. "But I saved him, Pete!" I cried.
"You were wrong! Sky _didn't_ die! I brought him back! All
he got was a little cut on his leg."

"It happened on the water, didn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah, so?" I snapped.

"That's just the beginning," he said, sadly. "Wil, do you
know anything about karma?"

I knew a little bit about Indian religions, from reading
articles about The Beatles, but that was about it. "You
mean like fate," I said, sitting down at the organ.

"Yeah, but that's just part of it," he said, sitting next
to me on the bench. "Even learned scholars argue about it.
Some of them say there are things that were just meant to
be, like they're etched in stone. Others say we control
what happens."

Pete turned and looked at me, his face only a foot away
from mine. Once again, I had to catch my breath at his good
looks. His light blue eyes were so bright, they almost
radiated. Although his thick long hair was dirty blond, his
eyebrows were dark. His face reminded me a little of Brian
Jones, from the Rolling Stones, who had died a few months
earlier. Suddenly, I felt keenly aware of my heart surging
blood through my loins.

"What do you think, Wil?" he asked.

I gulped. "I... I took an introduction to Philosophy last
year in school," I stammered. "I know they talked about
determinism versus free will."

"Right," he said. His face was now just inches from mine.
"Go on."

My mouth was dry. "I'm... kind of in between," I said,
finally. "I think maybe some things are predestined, and
maybe others we have some control over."

Pete nodded. "Ah, so you're with the 'compatiblism'
school," he said. "That's Hume's theory." He looked at me
and grinned. "You say you're how old?"

I felt a flash of anger. "Goddammit, I'll be 14 in three
months!" I snapped. "But what does that have to do with
anything?"

Pete was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, Wil," he said,
sincerely. "I'm just amazed that anybody your age..."

I shot him a glance.

"...I mean, that anybody like you would know this stuff,"
he finished. "I agree with you. I think some things we
can't ever change, like our skin color, or the weather. But
other things, like how we see the world, how we treat
people, what we are on the inside -- those are the kinds of
things we've got some control over. Those we can change."

"But _I_ changed what happened with Sky," I insisted,
jumping off the bench. Pete was making me so angry, I
started to shake. "He would've died if I hadn't been there.
But I was!"

Pete's face softened. "You might not be there the next
time, Wil," he said, quietly.

Tears sprang to my eyes. "No," I said. "That's not gonna
happen."

"I hope you're right, Wil," he said, standing up. "I really
hope I'm wrong."

I nodded and turned away. I couldn't let him see me cry. I
felt like a total wimp. Pete walked up behind me and put
his hand on my shoulder.

"But I know I'm not wrong about you," he said. "You're
groovy." He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around
me. I felt his warm chest behind me, and I put my hands on
his forearms. He leaned down and kissed me on my neck. I
felt warmth instantly spread to my entire body.

I caught my breath, then turned around. He smiled at me. "I
love you, Wil," he said, simply.

I leaned forward and we kissed. His hand slipped down to my
groin, and I began to stiffen under my pants.

"We don't have to, if you don't want to," he whispered.

Even though my heart was pounding like a jack-hammer, I
nodded.

"Let's go inside, then." He put his arm around my shoulders
and led me through his tiny kitchen and into his bedroom.
Posters of The Beatles and The Doors were up on the wall.
In seconds, we shed our clothes and were kissing
passionately on his bed.

"Oh, man," he panted. "I've wanted this since the first
night I saw you."

"At the dance?" I said, breathlessly.

"Yeah," he replied. "It was like I was hit with a
thunderbolt."

We kissed again, and he lay me down softly on my back. "I'd
like to take all night, but we don't have the time," he
said. He lay down on top of my chest and wrapped his arms
around me, then began slowly thrusting across my abdomen.
Our erections met and throbbed together. His body was warm,
almost hot to the touch. His kisses became more passionate,
more insistent.

"Oh, god, Wil," he moaned. "I love you so much."

The sweat flowed freely between our chests, and his hips
began to pound rhythmically. He groaned and kissed my neck,
my eyes, my mouth. Almost by instinct, I wrapped my arms
and legs around him and squeezed him gently. We wrapped our
tongues together and both moaned. In less than a minute, he
suddenly cried out, and I felt a warm fluid splash over my
chest and stomach. He collapsed on me, exhausted, then
rolled over onto the mattress.

I was shaking. My erection was still throbbing with desire.
He looked over at me and smiled, then ran his hand across
my groin and gently grabbed it.

"I know," I said, trying to read his thoughts. "I'm big.
Everybody tells me," I muttered.

"I don't care," he whispered. "I would've loved you even if
you hadn't had a dick at all. I know what you are inside,
Wil. That's what I'm really in love with."

Pete pulled his head down below my waist and leaned
forward, then inhaled my arousal deep into his mouth. His
hands roamed all over my body, which was coated with sweat.
He stopped for a moment, then came back up and lightly
tweaked my nipples with his lips, then kissed me again. I
felt the slight stubble on his face, and smelled a distant
fragrance, like some kind of aftershave, mixed with the
pleasantly musky smell of his sweat.

He broke off our embrace and grinned, then gently kissed my
nose. "I'm sorry we have to do this so fast," he said,
softly. "Next time will be better, I promise."

Before I could answer, Pete pulled his head back down and
buried his mouth deep into my groin again, this time taking
all of me. Holy shit, I thought. He's as good as Ronnie was
or better. He grabbed my buttocks with his hands and
lightly dug in his fingernails. In moments, I began
thrusting uncontrollably.

"Oh, GOD!" I moaned. Over and over again, I was hit with
wave after wave of pleasure. I finally collapsed, almost
unconscious on the bed.

Pete fell beside me and stroked my chest. I felt like I was
sweating from every pore. After I caught my breath, he
lifted his arm up, and I rolled over and put my arm and
face on his smooth chest. He squeezed me tightly and kissed
my forehead.

"That was great, Pete," I said, sighing. "If I didn't know
better, I'd say you've done this before."

We both laughed. "Well," he said, "I don't consider myself
'gay,' if that's what you mean. I just think I'm flexible."

Funny, I thought. That's almost what RJ said to me just a
few months ago.

"When you get down to it, I think we're just animals," he
explained. "Animals with a little more reason and emotion,
but still animals. And animals just get off, with whoever
or whatever they can. I don't buy this 'hetero' or 'homo'
shit. I think we're just 'sexual,' period."

I nodded. "I think I know what I am, Pete," I said,
quietly.

"Don't try to put a name to it, Wil," he said. "Always
leave your options open."

Pete sat up and put his hands behind his head on the
pillow. "So," he said. Tell me about this boyfriend of
yours."

"He's not really... my boyfriend," I said. "Just a friend.
My best friend."

I told him how Sky and I had met, how we'd gotten to be
close friends over the past six years, and how things had
kind of changed over the few months, when we both started
going to high school. I didn't hold anything back; I
included an abbreviated version of what happened between me
and Sky in the gym.

"I knew somebody like that," Pete said, wistfully.

"You did?" I said, surprised. Pete always seemed to me like
he had all the answers, like he had some kind of cosmic
guide to the universe.

"I used to go to Clearwater High," he explained, "just a
few blocks from my Dad's church. I was on the wrestling
team. My best friend there was Jeff -- Jeff Armstrong. He
still goes there, as a matter of fact."

I nodded. I thought I'd seen his picture in the _Tampa
Tribune_ recently.

"Jeff and I had... well, kind of a thing goin' on," he
said. "One thing led to the other, and, well..." Pete
stopped and looked away, embarrassed.

"You got caught," I said. "Shit, Pete. You're not much of a
soothsayer if you couldn't see that coming!" We both
laughed.

He grinned. "That's not exactly how it works," he said.
"Sometimes it's like I can see the future -- but it doesn't
work with myself. I can see it once in awhile with other
people, but it's totally unpredictable. I couldn't even
tell you if it was gonna rain tomorrow."

"What happened with you and this guy Jeff?" I asked.

Pete sighed. "We got a little carried away after a
wrestling meet," he said. "Jeff told me he was real horny
after winning a match, and so he... well, begged me to do
for him what I just did for you a few minutes ago. We
thought the place was deserted, but the coach walked in and
found us..."

"...in flagrante delicto," I finished.

"Hey, your Latin's not bad," he laughed.

I grinned. I'd taken Latin at LaFontaine the year before.

"It's a long story," he continued, "but I basically
convinced the coach it was all my fault. He knew he
couldn't exactly kick the star wrestler off the team, so I
just agreed to quit, and Jeff stayed on."

"But you didn't have to quit going to Clearwater, did you?"
I asked.

Suddenly, Pete's face darkened. "There's good karma and bad
karma in the world, Wil," he said, quietly.

Shit, I thought. "You mean... this guy Jeff told people
what happened?"

He nodded. "Word got out, but I dunno how," he said,
looking away. "Jeff wouldn't talk to me any more, like I
was suddenly uncool. My dad found out and went totally
berserk. He said I 'scandalized the church,' and basically
threw me out of the house."

Pete caught his breath. I could see this was hard for him.

"I'd inherited a little money from my mom and my
grandmother," he said, "so I had enough dough to buy some
food and pay the property tax on this place, which was my
grandparents' house. I decided to switch schools, and I'm
gonna graduate from Madeira Beach High this June."

"But you did see your father again," I said.

Pete's eyes began tearing up. "Only a week before he died."

"Shit," I said. "You two hadn't spoken in how long?"

He choked back a sob. "Almost a year," he said. "But I
still... tried to save him. After I saw him getting hurt in
my dream. But he wouldn't believe me."

I leaned forward and kissed him. I couldn't explain it, but
I had to believe everything he said. It all made perfect
sense, at least when Pete said it.

"Thanks," he said, wiping his eyes. "Shit, look what time
it is! We gotta get you back home, man."

We rolled off the bed, cleaned ourselves off, and got
dressed. "So, you do this very often?" I asked, puling up
my jeans. "You know, pick up strange 13 year-old kids and
tell them you're gonna make them rock and roll stars?" I
grinned at him.

Pete laughed and shook his head. "I've only done it with
three other guys in my life, and a half-dozen girls. And
that was just sex." He put his arms around me. "You're
different, Wil. I know this sounds corny, but I think you
and me -- that was makin' love, man."

"You're right," I said, laughing. "That _does_ sound real
corny."

Pete didn't laugh. "I really mean it, Wil," he said,
quietly. "With all my heart."

I nodded. "Thanks, Pete."

He kissed me again. "Let's hit the road," he said.

                        *   *   *

It was dark by the time we pulled into my driveway. We
hopped off his bike, but Pete walked me around to the side
of the house, next to the hedge.

"What's up, Pete?" I started to ask, then he suddenly
leaned down and kissed me again.

"I didn't want to freak out your parents when I said
goodbye to you," he said, smiling. "I don't think they'd
exactly dig it."

I nodded and grinned. "Good thinking," I said. "Pete, I...
I got just a few more weeks of school, then I've got the
summer off. Maybe we can, you know, hang out more often."

"It's gonna happen," he said, confidently. "I'd like you to
stay with me at the beach over the summer, maybe for a few
weeks."

"No way," I said. "I've got swim practice with the city
team, I've got a bunch of other stuff going on... I might
even go to summer school at LaFontaine, so I can graduate
early."

Pete smiled, that same sad smile of his. "I'll wait for
you, man. When you're ready. And the karma's right."

"Wil!" called a voice from the porch behind me. "Is that
you out there?"

"I gotta go!" I whispered.

Pete nodded and jumped back on his bike and kicked the
starter. "Be strong, Wil," he yelled, as the motor roared.
"You got some rough times ahead. But you're gonna make it."

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, he screeched
down the driveway and shot off into the blackness.

My mother was waiting for me on the porch. "Your friend
Pete is a wonderful young man," she enthused. "Your father
and I were fascinated by him."

We walked into the living room, and Sharon was playing with
the cat again on the couch. The cat was playfully trying to
nip at my sister's fingers, which she was wiggling from
beneath a cushion.

"I had no idea Pete was 18," continued my mother. "He
looked so young, I thought he was Schuyler's age. He said
he's going to college in the fall and major in Philosophy.
Even your father was very impressed with him."

"What about you, Sharon?" I said, giving my sister's cat a
little tickle under her neck. The cat immediately purred
and closed its eyes.

"Who?" said Sharon, still trying to get the cat's
attention.

"Pete," I said, exasperated. "The guy who came over here."

"Oh, him," she said. "He's okay. But Samantha still doesn't
like him."

I rolled my eyes. The cat continued to purr, and began
happily licking my hand.

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