Written By: Justin Case
Edited By: Ed
October 16, 2001
Disclaimer: This story contains sexually explicit material, you must be of legal age to read it. The tale is about young gay life, in the real world, but it is fiction. If there are any similarities to real people, places, or things, it must be a strange coincidence. The writer, his editor, and his publisher accept no responsibility for the reader of this material. This work is protected by copyright laws of the United States of America.©JCPCo2001
SoapBox®: Hey to you all, I hope you're enjoying the tale. I want to thank the many of you that have written to express your thoughts. For the rest of you, who want to write, or IM me, the addy is Justin69SK@aol.com I love getting your letters and hearing from you. Until the next time, as always, but not forever, just, Justin<
I woke the next morning and couldn't shake the thoughts from my head of what we had done the night before. I pictured the five of us in the room, its darkness, and our dimly shadowed bodies entwined together in the musty smelling garage. I wondered why I couldn't seem to achieve the moment of climax that the other two boys had. I was filled with guilt and shame, for I knew my desires were for Champ, not Melody.
I also woke up this morning and had to rush, it's Friday, and I have to turn the first installment of my writing assignment in to Mr. Furey. Yeah, he told us, "Every Friday I expect you to turn in what you have written for the previous week. I will read them over the weekend and get them back to you on Monday with my comments." I could hardly wait, I have my first two chapters done, and was wondering what he was going to say about my subject matter.
I got my clothes and headed for the shower, I passed Joan as she was coming down the hallway out of the bathroom. Towel around her body, and another wrapped around her head, just like every school day. I can't wait to get out of high school and go to college, unlike Joan, who has stayed home to work in some mundane job here in Mayfield.
Joan brought me to school, just like every other day, and dropped me off in the front. I saw a bunch of kids milling around the entrance, hesitantly, not wanting to go in any sooner than was necessary. You know, getting the last minute gossip, and the fear of leaving the group of people you were with, because you may miss something important. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Linda Dailey.
"Hey, FAG, what you going to write about in Furey's class?" came her stinging verbal assault.
Linda has been in my English class, and several other of my classes too, because we are both in the honors program, since ninth grade. I wonder if somehow people in guidance departments say to themselves, `Let's put so and so together in classes with so and so, maybe they'll learn to like each other,' because it seems to me that having her in my classes was some form of a conspiracy. I did tell you I hated her, right? Actually, it seems the feeling is mutual too.
You're probably wondering how she found out about my sexuality, huh? Well, you have to read this whole silly paper to find that out. No, Mr. Furey, it's not really silly, and that was meant for the other people who may read this. Please, don't take off any points for that comment.
There I go again, getting off the subject. Where were we? It's been so long that I've even forgotten. OK, tell you what, let's just get back to the two years ago, and when I figured out that I was what other people call `gay.' I can honestly say there is nothing gay about the way I am, and how others perceive it, and treat me.
I woke up the next morning, and felt bad about myself. I have been told all my life, in many different ways, that the feelings I felt for Champ and some other boys are wrong. I see it in television shows, movies, hear it in lyrics in different songs. Maybe to me it is seen more than by others who don't live like I do, you know, maybe because I am the way I am, I'm sensitive to it. All I know is that often I see or hear negative comments about people like me, people who seem to love or are attracted to others of the same sex. I can assure you, I didn't choose to be the way I am, and I can't seem to change it either. No matter how much it pains me, no matter how many tears I have shed over it. I am who I am, and that's who I will always be.
Oh, I've done it again, haven't I? I am sorry. I hope you don't get lost amongst the words here.
I heard the phone ring, and thought, wow, it's early. I quickly walked into the dining room; it's the only room in the house where we have a phone. As a matter of fact, it has a rotary dial still. Can you believe it?
"Jacob, this is Champ. What's up?" I heard his voice, and felt some excitement in my body at hearing him.
"Not much, just getting ready to take a shower, we'll be there in about half an hour. What's up with you?" I rattled the words off.
"That's why I'm calling. You want to skip school with me today?" he whispered into the phone.
I could almost picture him in his bedroom; Greg, his ten-year-old brother, and Carl, the eight-year-old twin, would have been in the room with him. I felt the tingles of shivers run through my body, and I even trembled a little bit, thinking about it. How I longed to be alone with him.
"We can hang out here, I mean, you can tell Joanie you've decided to take the bus. I'll tell Mel and Marge that you are sick and can't pick us up. I'll meet you at the rock, we'll come back here after my dad leaves at eight." He presented his well thought out plan and left me little room or reason to say no.
I didn't want to get my hopes up too much, it wasn't the first time we had skipped school before, but usually we did it when there were no vacations, and hadn't been one for a while. This was the Friday before April vacation, `Wow, it sure would give us a long vacation,' I thought to myself. I couldn't help wonder if he was asking me to skip that day so he could be alone with me for the same reason I wanted to be alone with him. I remembered those sparkling blue eyes piercing into mine as I had my hands inside his pants the day before. My heart started to beat faster just thinking about it.
"OK, I'll meet you there in half hour. Do you have any cigarettes? Never mind, I'll bring you some." I hung up the phone.
I quickly took my shower, and told Joanie to go on without me, that I decided to walk. She gave me a funny look, she knew. I think. She did say something about when pigs flew, but I was too involved with my thoughts about Champ and me skipping school, to listen to anything she might have to say.
I walked up my street, Corn Street; we live about a quarter of the way down the street on the left coming from Rachel Road. Rachel Road is like a main road that separates my neighborhood, from the Morins' and Bob's. Did you ever notice that about your town? Certain streets dissect your area of `where you belong.' You know, if you're not in the neighborhood near your home, some old lady yells from her front porch, "Go home, you don't belong here." At least it seems to happen here a lot in Mayfield; there is always some grouchy old person who seems to hate children yelling at us somewhere. I practically counted my every step as I walked up the street.
It was chilly out that morning; I hadn't worn a jacket. I hoped we wouldn't have to wait too long at the rock before Mr. Morin left for work. I knew he had to be there for eight, but I didn't have my watch on that day either. I crossed Rachel Road, and headed towards Barnett Street, and suddenly remembered I'd pass Bob as I crossed the end of Cedar Street, he'd be waiting for the bus. `Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck am I gonna say to him? Oh, he'll want to come with me,' the thoughts pounded my brain as I neared his bus stop.
He wasn't there, `great,' I relaxed. I picked up my pace a little bit, I wanted to hurry now, I was energized just thinking about being alone with Champ. I pictured him in my mind waiting for me, I wondered why he had called, all I could imagine is, he felt the same way I did. I just wished I could come right out and tell him how I felt. I mean they do have the commercials and shows on MTV that say 'celebrate diversity'. The only problem is no one I know likes them, they all make fun of the people on the shows and call them queers. Bob actually says he hates fags.
I saw Champ waiting near the rock. The rock is a boulder that is under a large pine tree, and surrounded on three of its sides with huge hemlocks, at the end of Barnett Street on the corner of an empty lot. We go there a lot to smoke, so our parents don't find out, Barnett Street is not a heavily traveled street, so it's a real private spot. Out of the bushes came another body, it was Bob. Damn, I thought it was going to be just Champ and me. I suddenly felt like a balloon that was being squeezed at the neck while it was slowly deflating.
"Hey, Jacob," Bob shouted his sour sounding greeting.
"Hey, Bob, I didn't think I'd see you," I called back, rather surprised.
"Yeah, I was walking up Barnett to meet you at Rachel, and I passed Bob at his bus stop, so he kind of tagged along. It's all good though," Champ quickly said, sounding apologetic.
"What time is it? How long do we have to wait before your dad is gone?" I wanted to change the subject, and I was freezing.
"We could sneak into the back of the garage, through the window, and hide in the room if you want, you don't have a jacket," Champ offered, his blue eyes seemed to drink my soul into his mind.
I smiled at him, and gave him a private roll of my brown eyes, and a slight nod of my head towards Bob. He just looked at me, and gave me a nod. I took it to mean he was just as happy to have Robert with us as I was. The three of us started over to Dane's house. We'd have to cut through his back yard to get to the garage window. I figured we might as well pick him up along the way, shit, may as well have a party now.
"Hey, why don't we grab Dane? I bet he's still home, the junior high bus comes later than Bob's and mine," I suggested.
"For that matter, we could just chill in his house, no one's home there. He always has great food and snacks," Bob reasoned.
"Yeah, plus he's got Dream Cast, we can play that." Champ beamed.
"I'd rather play N-64, fuck Dream Cast. Besides, you have that new NFL game for the 64." Bob changed his mind about Dane's, I only guessed he wasn't hungry.
"Well, make up your mind." I was irritated for two reasons; first, he was there uninvited, and second, because he couldn't seem to make up his mind about where he wanted to go. He did have some nerve.
"We have to go through his yard, if he's home, we'll chill there for a little while, and if he's not, we'll hang in the room." The twelve-year-old voice of reason came through loud and clear.
"It's all good, `m I Bad? Bob quipped.
"YES!" Champ and I both said simultaneously. Then we burst into laughter, all three of us.
"I didn't mean to intrude. I mean, hell, if you guys want to be alone or something, I can take a hint. What's the big deal?" Bob shot the words at us.
I suddenly felt defensive, and didn't know why. I mean, what's wrong with two boys wanting to hang out alone with each other? I guess it was because of my ulterior motives of wanting to be alone with Champ that bothered me. I felt my body as it shivered again, not from the cold damp spring morning, but from the nervous tension I felt.
"What, you guys have some booze or something? What you hiding from?" He persisted in his questioning our wanting to skip school without him.
"Well, Bob, as a matter of fact I do." Champ's words cut through the air like fleeting arrow piercing its target.
"Really?" Bob's voice sounded full of surprise and held a certain devious tone.
"Yep," came Champ's one word answer, a little pissed off sounding.
"Cool. I'm there." Bob still was pushing his way into where he wasn't welcome.
"I noticed," Champ said, dripping with sarcasm.
We stood on Dane's back porch; I was freezing by now. Champ rang the bell; we could hear the dull thuds of someone running up the stairs from the basement. The basement door was right across from the back door, and it was where Dane's bedroom was. The curtains on the back door quickly parted as Dane stuck his face to the window to see who was ringing the doorbell. A huge smile crossed his lips as he flung open the door.
"What's up, my homies? No school today?" his voice charged.
"You in?" Champ had calmed down.
"Sure is. Come on in, boys." Dane moved aside, allowing us room to walk into the kitchen.
I could smell the aromas of the night before's meal faintly in the air, as well as the strong odor of perfume from his mother's getting ready for work that morning. I thought about how every one of our houses smelled different. I wondered what mine smelled like to them, because I never smelled anything in my own house. We headed into Dane's living room; it was the only room where they had a television, other than his parents' room. We never went in his parents' room, I don't know why, but parents' bedrooms seemed like some kind of inner sanctum and prohibited from our occupation.
"This is cool, skipping school today. We'll all have a long spring vacation," Dane observed.
"Yeah, and Champ has some booze too. We'll all be able to really party today," Bob bragged.
"I drank some booze once, I don't like it. It burns my throat," Dane confessed.
"What's the matter, Daney, you a little boy, can't be a big man?" Robert teased, more than I cared for him to do.
"It's OK if he doesn't want to drink it, Bob, leave him alone." Champ defended the other twelve-year-old.
"Yeah, Bob, back the fuck off." The words charged from my lips. I felt the need to defend them both.
"Well, fuck you too, Jacob. I was just kidding. Fuck it, if he doesn't want to drink, he doesn't have to. There'll be more for us anyway," Bob defensively said.
"I suppose you're an expert drinking. Huh, Bob?" I continued my protection of Dane and his honesty.
I knew that none of us had really drunk that much, after all, we were always together. The only time that Bob had drunk before was with me. We stole a case of beer out of the back of a pick-up truck parked on his street a few months before. We each drank part of a beer and threw the rest away because we didn't like it. We were caught too, and luckily, I had Joan talk to the woman on the phone, pretending to be my mother, when she called the house to tell. We both had to pay the woman back for the beer. I knew I was on safe ground.
"I drink, I always take stuff from my father's bar. I just don't like beer, Jacob." He knew where I was coming from, but sounded full of shit.
"Really, Bob, what kind of booze do you like the best?" Champ seemed to be conducting an inquisition.
I watched his face as it wrinkled; I saw his green eyes widen behind those thick lenses on his glasses. I could see the discomfort in his face, and only wondered what he would say now to defend his honor. He seemed to squirm a little in the chair he had taken when we sat down in the living room. He threw his head around to situate his brown hair so it wasn't hanging over his eyes. I saw him grasp the arm rests of the chair and his knuckles seemed to turn white.
"I like George Dickel's twelve year old," he finally stated.
"Gee, Bob, if you like twelve year olds, you can have mine." Champ chuckled as he let the words slip out of his mouth.
I was astonished to hear him say it. I wondered if he really meant it, I hoped that there was a hint of his true desires to be with another boy in his joke. I felt a little jealous though, that he would so easily offer himself to Bob. I looked over to Dane, who seemed to be all ears, and waited to see how this might play out.
"Fuck off. What are you, some kind of HOMO?" Bob's voice boomed with accusation.
"Ya never know, but I think you're queer bait here. You seem to like the twelve year olds," Champ defiantly charged.
I was stunned; his response left room for interpretation. I immediately looked towards him; I searched his face for some kind of clue. I couldn't help myself. I had to know if he was like me. I had found myself checking so many other boys out, watching them, and studying them to see if somehow I could figure out if they too were like me. I actually analyzed people, looking for others to identify with. I felt the blood rush to my head as I caught myself wishing Champ was like me.
"It's fucking whiskey, you dipshit. They age it twelve years to make it smooth and potent." Bob sounded like some kind of authority.
"Hey, well, Bobbie, I'm smooth and potent. You wanna drink me?" Dane fell off the sofa, where he was sitting with Champ as he asked, rolling with laughter on the floor.
Champ and I couldn't help ourselves either, we were ripping. Poor Bob, he had no way out now. He dug himself into a hole and he knew it too. I looked over to him and watched his face contort, I could actually see the veins in his neck swell and throb with each pump of blood that flowed through them. My eyes were filled with tears; I could feel their dampness as they ran down my cheeks.
Dane was still on the floor in the middle of the room when the phone rang. We were all brought back to the moment. I felt my heart, as it seemed to skip a beat. I thought it might be the school calling to check on Dane's whereabouts. Who else would call a few minutes after eight in the morning?
"Champ, you answer, sound like my mom," Dane immediately squelched.
"Hello," I heard his sweet voice say into the wall hung telephone mounted in the kitchen.
"Yes, my son is home sick today, he seems to be running a temperature. I thought it best to keep him here with me," Champ bantered like a pro.
I knew then that we were all going to get away with it. The system, as well as `they' had set it up, had large holes in it. Holes you could drive a Mack Truck through. Our little escapade was going to go undetected by our parents. I couldn't help but wonder why Champ had called me in the first place, and wished it had been for the reasons I so wanted, to BE, with him.
"Let's go see what you have to drink, Champ." Bob was more interested in getting drunk than if we got caught.
"I have a bottle of blackberry brandy, a whole bottle. My father brought home a sample of some new brand for Mr. Shattuck, he asked my little brother Norm to bring it over last night. I volunteered and kept it."
"You're shitting. What's gonna happen when your dad asks Shattuck what he thought of it?" Bob tried to piss all over Champ's plan.
"He won't. If anything, my dad will say what did ya think of the brandy, and Shattuck being the drunk he is will say it was good. He'll be all confused but won't want to admit it, so he can get more samples." Champ explained his logic, which sounded pretty good to me, you have to remember this is a small town and we know what motivates our neighbors.
We finally decided to go to the Morins' house, and drink the bottle of blackberry brandy that Champ had scoffed off his old man. As we cut through Dane's back yard, Champ grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
"Jacob?" he whispered to me, "Sleep over tonight. I have to talk to you. I'm sorry about this."
I felt his warm breath on the side of my face; I felt his pulse as it throbbed in his hand against my upper arm. I felt the damp cold air as it washed over my upper torso without a jacket on. My whole body filled with a heat from within, as his fingers wrapped themselves around my triceps. I didn't shudder, or shiver; I stopped dead in my tracks and allowed his hand to pleasure me with his gentle touch. I could only hope he knew how wanted he was by me. It was as if I was trying to signal him, that it was HE, I wanted. I cast my brown eyes into his blue ones, and searched for some answer, an answer that wouldn't come verbally.
"I have to ask, it should be all right. I have something to talk to you about too," I confessed.
I watched as his face relaxed, and his hand let go of my bare arm. I shouldn't have worn short sleeves; it was so damn cold out that April morning. One by one we all bounced over the fence and headed towards Champ's back door for our day of drinking and whatever came our way. We were four boys who hung around together and knew all there was to know about one another. Three of us now shared another secret, the secret of what little we knew about sex, as experienced the night before in the room. The room we had built with our own little hands.
I couldn't help but wonder what it was that Champ had felt so important to tell me. I only wished it was what I wanted to hear. I felt a certain agony the rest of the day.
Wow, hate to leave you there. Hehe J not really, it's what we call a cliffhanger. I am bad. Until the next time, take care.
Thanks, Ed, for the fine editing job.
But not forever,