Date: Tue, 10 May 2005 10:08:35 +0100
From: comments@ardveche.co.uk
Subject: Snow Days - Gay / High School

SNOW DAYS
By Ardveche
comments@ardveche.co.uk

***

Standard disclaimers apply; you know what this is, because you know what
kind of stories appear here.  So, if you don't like gay oriented fiction,
that's your right, but I suggest you not read on.  This story is a work of
fiction, and is entirely the copyrighted property (c)
http://www.ardveche.co.uk 2005 of its author.  This story may not be
distributed or copied without the express permission of the author.

***

When they make the movie of my life it will open with scenes from when I
was a little kid taken from the wobbly home movies my dad loved to shoot.
But, he won't be in any of them, because he was always behind the camera.
This will be seen to be significant.  In the images you'll be shown a
lively, happy kid will grow up from a baby to early teens, he'll run and
laugh and play ball and roll around on the grass with his dog, and
everything will be perfect.

Then the voice over will start.  A first you won't recognise the voice,
because it'll be someone whose career you thought was over ten years ago.
Someone who you used to think was pretty cute in those bad teen flicks he
used to do.  You know, what's his name.  But he'll have a good voice for
this kind of thing, that sort of young-old voice that'll make you think
he's still got it, even though you won't get to see him.  And he'll have a
killer script.

He'll talk about beginnings, and his rolling, mellifluous voice will
convince you he knows what he's talking about because that, my friends, is
the power of celluloid.  He'll tell you that it all started that summer
when I was seven and I played doctor with my nine year old cousin Kevin.
Or he might say it was in the locker room in Junior High when Danny
Schumacher got that boner and damned himself for ever.  It doesn't much
matter, does it?  Just as long as there is a beginning, I mean there has to
be, right?  A genesis event, a damascene vision, a sudden moment of clarity
that thirty years later you can put your finger on and say; "it all started
there".

But that's the trouble with beginnings.  They're not that easy, life isn't
like the movies.  Endings, now endings are easy and even the events that
lead up to the ending are pretty straightforward chronologically if not
thematically.  Was there one day when everything was fine, and where the
next everything was wrong?  Or if not wrong, then different?  Probably not,
things just aren't that simple.  More likely there was a gradual change, a
progression of events that made things seem different from one moment of
awareness to another.  What I do know for sure is that the winter of my
senior year saw a number of such moments of awareness.

So we return to the voice over and let him do the introductions, with
appropriate footage, of course.  My name is George Daniel Spencer; Dan to
my friends, Daniel to my mother, Junior to my father, George Junior to his
family and Little George to his friends.  You'll get the hang of it.  My
father was George William Spencer, Big George to most people, and a big man
in our town.  He was everything you'd expect him to be; a veteran, a big
employer, a town councilor, a school governor, a supporter of local teams,
and a friend to everyone.

We live about twenty miles out of town in a house, you guessed it, that Big
George designed himself, and all credit to him it's a great house, even if
it suffers from having been the height of fashion in the seventies.  Not
for Big George a house in town, he needed space, his own land, to feel like
the lord of all creation.  By now you're all thinking that I didn't much
like my father, which is a dreadful slur, I loved him as much as any son.
Just, sometimes, I wish he'd been around more, and a little less certain
that his way was right on everything.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, so I need you all to come with me on a
journey back to my senior year.  The music fades (something eighties, The
Smiths or Simple Minds maybe) and we cut to the interior of my parents'
jeep on a dark, snowy night in January and the movie begins for real.

***

Knowing what the weather was like, it had seemed like a very stupid idea to
go to rehearsal that night.  The roads were treacherous, with snowdrifts
piled against walls and parked cars, and although no more had fallen that
day it would likely not clear for weeks.  Still, around here we're hardly
strangers to snow and this was no worse than any other January so life had
to go on.  I was trying to diversify my extra-curricular activities, with a
view to strengthening my college applications so I couldn't really ditch.
Besides, although I would never admit this to my buddies, or my dad, it
really was kinda fun.

So, here I was, en route to a rehearsal of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', of
all things, my mother muttering incessantly about the state of the roads as
we went.  I was tempted to point out that as Big George was a councilor he
might be in a position to have something done about the roads - like maybe
get some more snowplows - but I kept my peace.  I tried to tune my mother
out and concentrate on remembering my lines; as Oberon I wasn't the most
important character, but I had a fairly large part, certainly more than I'd
ever had before and it was making me nervous.

"You have your cell phone?"  She asked as we approached the school.

"Yes, mom."

"Good, so you call me when you're done and I'll come get you - or send your
father."

"OK."  I sighed as I released my seatbelt, then ventured a sly smile at my
mother.  "You know, if you'd let me drive the Jeep, you guys could both
stay home."

"Nice try, Daniel."  She smiled and shook her head at me, I had been trying
to get that particular concession from them for ages, to no effect.

"OK, so I'll call."  I opened my door and stepped out into the biting cold,
grateful for my thick jacket.  "We shouldn't be too late."

"Have fun, dear."  My mother, it has to be said, was more enthusiastic
about this new direction I was taking than my father, he was convinced I
could get into college on athletic prowess.  Some chance of that, sure I
was good but I was nowhere near good enough to get into a decent school on
that alone.  Too much of an all rounder I guess, playing baseball as well
as running and swimming.  All that, coupled with the rigors of an active
social life and the need to work to keep my grades even near to acceptable.
The trials of American youth.

"I will.  See you later."  I slammed the door closed and, my breath
clouding in the air, forced my way through damn near knee deep snow to the
poorly cleared path leading to the school's door, pausing to give a jaunty
salute to the departing vehicle.  I heaved a sigh, the rehearsal was
necessary because, truth be told, we sucked.  Still, it was pretty damned
cold, and I was in no mood to be outside, at least the heating might be on
in the school, even though you did have to practically sit on a radiator to
feel it.  I trudged up the path and stamped some of the snow from my boots
before I entered the building, making my way along the deserted corridors
to the theater.

Much of the cast was already there, sitting around in various attitudes of
boredom while Mr Montez, the drama teacher, issued instructions to the
stage crew.  He was a funny guy, real prissy, and absolutely never
addressed any of us by our first names.  I shucked my coat and dumped it on
one of the auditorium seats, ambling over to a small knot of my fellow cast
members.  There were a couple of girls, sophomores, that I mostly talked to
in these quiet moments as much of the cast treated me with suspicion.
After all, popular though I was, I was a jock invading their space, luckily
for me I had enough of a way with the ladies to make these girls blush and
giggle at the attention.  Of course, as a senior, I wouldn't be seen dead
with a sophomore girl, and certainly not with one of these girls!  Big
headed?  Maybe, but nobody ever said high school was a fair place.

"Hi, Daniel!"  Charlotte, one of the sophomores gushed as I walked towards
them.

"Ladies."  I sketched a tiny bow at them and flashed my best smile.  "How
are you this fine day?"  My enquiry was met with a chorus of 'fines' and
'greats' and a row of orthodontically challenged smiles.

"We thought maybe you wouldn't be here today."  Charlotte supplied with a
slight blush as she realized what she was saying and babbled on to cover
her embarrassment.  "With the weather and everything, you know, with you
living so far out of town, and all."

"And miss your company?  Are you kidding?"  I grinned in what I knew was a
mischievous manner and winked at Charlotte causing so much blood to rush
into her cheeks I thought she might pass out.  What can I say?  I have that
effect.

"Daniel Spencer!"  I was scolded by one of the others, feigning outrage at
my familiarity.  In truth, this was their dream come true, they could
recount these conversations to their friends and greet me in the halls, and
brag about how well they knew Daniel Spencer.

"What?  I mean it!"  I pretended to be confused by their embarrassment.

"You're too much!"

"Charlotte, you have no idea!"  I rejoined, maybe going a little too far,
but what the hell.  Luckily I was saved from further verbal jousting by
Montez calling us all round to listen to him, we were going to get started
with the few people who were there.  I wasn't needed until act two, so that
allowed me to settle into a seat and tune out for a bit - usually.

"Mr Spencer, perhaps you can help Mr Mitchell with the scenery as we're
short handed?  I don't think we'll get to the second act tonight.  And if
we do, you can switch with someone."

"Um, yeah, I guess so."  I shrugged and hauled myself to my feet.

"Most accommodating of you."  Montez remarked dryly.  I had had the feeling
since day one that he wasn't wild about an interloper in his drama group
either, so maybe a little extra work like this would gain me extra credit.
I have to say I was not too thrilled at the prospect, Lee Mitchell was a
man I could not figure out.  He was a metal-head for a start, or at least
he hung out with that whole long haired, leather jacketed crowd.  But he
didn't really fit the stereotype, for example here he was involved with the
school play where they took next to no interest in school at all.  Even his
appearance was slightly wrong for the group, sure he wore the uniform
leather jacket but he looked cleaner, less unkempt than the others, his
hair was short too.  But what did I know?  He was just another face in the
hall, not part of my group, a senior but not cool enough to pay any real
attention to.

"Lee?"  I called cheerfully as I picked my way around the obstacles
backstage.  "Hey, man, you back here?"

"Yo."  Came the reply from above me.  I craned my neck to look up and saw a
figure on a gantry checking the ropes that held the backdrops for the
production.  I probably got the terminology wrong there, but I was strictly
front of house up until then.  "Oh, its you."

"Yeah, its me.  Montez wants me to help you tonight."

"Great."  He sighed.  "Well you're no use down there."

"How was I supposed to know that?"  I asked as I made my way to the stairs
up to the gantry to join him.  I thought he made a response, but it was too
faint to be entirely sure.  I decided to let it go, because if it was what
I thought it might have been I'd have been forced to beat the spit out of
him.  See, I think he said 'maybe if you took your head out of your ass',
but there's no way that could be right.

"Everything's pretty straightforward."  He was all business when I reached
him.  "These ropes are numbered, at each scene change you just close the
curtain, lower the right one and pull the last one out of the way.
Simple."

"What're you going to be doing."

"Lights.  Matt begged off."  He shrugged expansively.  "So it's just you
and me, hotshot."

"Hotshot?"

"Think you can handle this?"  He ignored me completely.  I was starting to
get pissed off with his attitude, what had I ever done to him?  But, now I
was standing right next to him I was uncomfortably aware that he was
actually a bit taller than me and looked to be in pretty good shape.  I had
never really noticed before, like I said just another face, but maybe if I
started anything, it would be him beating the spit out of me.  And that
would be very bad indeed for my reputation.  Not to mention with my dad,
bad enough to be in a fight, but to lose was unthinkable.

"Yeah, I think I'll cope."  I forced myself to smile at him to show he
wasn't fazing me at all, though I'm sure it looked more like a grimace.
"Doesn't exactly take a rocket scientist."

"Probably just as well."

"What is your problem?"  I demanded, losing patience with him.  This was
not how things were supposed to go, people looked up to and admired me,
where was his attitude coming from?  And why now at rehearsal?

"You."  He answered simply.

"So what did I do?"

"It's not what you do, it's what you are."

"And what is that?"  I asked, crossing my arms and cocking my head on one
side to await his response.

"An asshole."  He shrugged.  Well that surprised me not many people in
school would dare talk to me like that - and none of them would be serious
if they did.  My mouth must have hung open, and I certainly couldn't think
of a suitable retort.

"What?  I've never been anything but nice to you."

"Man, you just don't get it do you?"  He shook his head, like he was
dealing with a total retard, and turned to leave.  As I stood dumbfounded
listening to his boots clumping down the stairs I struggled to comprehend
what he was talking about.  I was a nice guy, sure I had a high opinion of
myself at times, but I was always polite and just basically decent.  And he
certainly had no right to be like this, until we had both been involved
with this play I had barely said six words to him.

What could I do?  I was hardly going to chase after him and demand an
explanation - that would seem like I cared what he thought of me.  Which I
totally didn't.  Did I?  It was hard to say, this attitude was outside my
experience.  The purpose of my life in high school was to be popular, but,
and this is important, it only matters if you're popular with the other
popular kids, right?  I mean, presumably Martin Zeigler was pretty popular
with the geek squad, but he didn't even show up as interference on anyone's
social radar.  He was a nice enough kid, I was at grade school with him,
and we built a rocket ship together when we were little, but high school is
another world.

I didn't get too long to ponder what I had done to piss Lee off so much
anyway, as Montez decided we had all of the cast we were going to get and
we might as well make a start.  I did as good a job as I could back there,
but my timing was for shit and some of the scene changes were a lot less
slick than I had hoped - but it was rehearsal, Lee would handle it on the
night so it wasn't a big deal.  Still, I don't like to be half-assed about
things.  I guess Lee's hostility had rattled me more than I cared to admit
- even to myself - so I resolved simply to ignore him, it wasn't like our
paths crossed too often anyway.

So I concentrated on the abysmal acting going on below me and enjoyed the
company of my own thoughts up there in the dark.  We really, truly sucked.
The performance was, unless we shaped up in a major way, going to be
profoundly embarrassing.  It was about nine thirty when my cell phone
started to throb in my pocket, and a glance showed me it was my home
number.

"Yo?"  I said, flipping the phone open.

"Daniel?"

"Mom?"

"Yes.  Listen, Daniel, the snow's really coming down pretty heavily now.
Your father doesn't think we can get back into town to pick you up."  She
sounded really apologetic, and so she should!

"You're kidding!"  What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

"I know, I'm sorry.  Could you maybe stay with one of your friends?"  I
could picture her standing by the phone, sort of cradling it in both hands,
chewing on her lip as she always did when she had a problem.

"I don't have any of my stuff with me!"  Besides which, what friends?  This
crowd was not composed of people from my circle of friends.

"Its just for a night.  The plows will be out in the morning."

"Great!  Just great."  One night without any of my vital accessories.  No
toothpaste, no hair products, no clean underwear, oh God!

"I'm really sorry, Daniel, but there's just nothing else I can do.  There's
no way we can get into town tonight."  She sounded almost as distressed as
I was feeling, but I knew it wasn't her fault the road was blocked.  "And
the plows..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, they'll be out tomorrow."  I heaved a great sigh from
the depths of my being.  "Fine.  What else can I do?  I'll find somewhere
to crash."  The tone of my voice made it more than clear that this was not
in any way fine, but she did have a point, if the roads were blocked there
was nothing more she could do.  Why did my stupid anti-social father have
to live so damn far from town.  Had to be the big shot with the big house
and his own land.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

"Daniel?"  My mother's voice brought me back to the present.

"What?"

"You went very quiet.  Are you ok?"

"Peachy."  I snapped down the phone. "Look, I'll call you once I know where
I'm gonna be, ok?"

"OK.  And, Daniel, I really am sorry."

"I know.  Bye."  I snapped the phone shut without waiting for an answer.

"Problem, Mr Spencer?"  Montez's voice reached me from the stage where he
was standing looking up at me with a scowl on his face.  It occurred to me
that possibly I had been speaking quite loudly on the phone and had
interrupted the performance below.

"The road out to my house is closed."  I called down to him.

"Well, I think we'd better stop now before we all end up spending the night
in here.  Come on down from there."

"Thanks."  I muttered under my breath as I made my way down from the
gantry.

"So you have somewhere you can go?"  Montez asked when I reached his level.

"I'll call a couple people and see what I can drum up."  I replied,
dialling the number of one of my team-mates.  No signal.  I muttered a
curse under my breath and tried another number, still no signal.  As if my
day wasn't bad enough, my cell phone was now out.

The cast, what there was of it, was drifting away in little knots as I
looked around frantically wondering who there was I could possibly ask to
help me out.  The girls had disappeared, so that put them out of the
running, not that I'd have been exactly wild about that prospect anyway.

"Fuck." I muttered to myself.  I was standing chewing on my lower-lip, deep
in thought when my reverie was broken into.

"Man, you were worse at that than I thought you'd be."

"Huh?"  Was the best response I could manage as I looked round.

"The scenery?  Remember?  Big painted things, up there?"  Lee pointed up at
the gantry where I had been mere minutes before.

"I have bigger problems than your stupid scenery."  I snapped, scrolling
through the names and numbers in my cell.

"What?  Lose a cheerleader's number?"  His sardonic tone was starting to
rile me more than the outright hostility of earlier.

"Stow it, Lee."  I tried to ignore him and concentrate.  "My parents are
snowed in, I need to find someplace to stay and I think my phone's dead."

"Will you gentlemen hurry up, please?"  Montez demanded from near the door.
"I want to lock up and get home, I have no desire to spend the night in
here with you two."

"Just a sec, Mr Montez, I need to grab my jacket."  Lee said trotting away
from us as I struggled back into my own.

"Hurry up then."

"Um, Mr Montez?"  I said hesitantly, "is there a phone in here I can use,
my cell's gone dead."

"The office is locked up, Mr Spencer, I'm sure Mr Mitchell will let you
call your parents from his house?"

"Lee's house?"  I asked in surprise.

"You do have a telephone, I assume, Mr Mitchell?"

Lee rejoined us, pulling his leather jacket on as he did so.  "Yeah, sure,
why?"

"For Mr Spencer to call his parents."  He yanked the door open and flicked
the lights off, ushering us out of the auditorium ahead of him before
either of us could make any response.  "Now, shall we?"

"Um..." I began.

"Excellent.  Good night, gentlemen."  He turned his attention to locking
the doors and paid no further heed to us.

"Good night." Lee called over his shoulder as he started to stalk off
through the snow and I had to break into a little jog to catch up.

"Lee!  Wait up!"

"What?"  He stopped, hands thrust deep into his pockets.

"Listen, you don't like me, fine, I can live with that, but I'm really
stuck man, all I need is to use your phone, and after that I'll never speak
to you again if that's what you want."

"Big change then."  He snorted.

"Look, Montez got his wires crossed, and now I'm stranded, he thought I was
crashing at your place because we were the only two left."

"Well, you're not."

"I know, but c'mon man, a couple of phone calls."  He continued to stare at
me.  My already fraying temper snapped.  "What do you want?  Do you want me
to beg you?  Because if you do, forget it."  I looked right at him, waiting
for his response.  For some time, none came.

"No."  He heaved a sigh.  "But you could have tried saying please."

I was dumbfounded; I still didn't know what I had done to make this guy
hate me so much.  My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to
think of some suitably biting retort when suddenly his lip twitched and he
let out a little bark of laughter.

"What's so fucking funny?"  I demanded.

"Your face, man."

"Well I'm so fucking glad this amuses you."

"It doesn't.  You do."  He tilted his head on one side, and the stern look
was back.  "Did you actually think I'd just leave you out here?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"I don't like you Spencer, but I'd hardly leave you to freeze.  It's called
humanity, look it up some time."

"I know what humanity is."

"Really?"  He started walking again as though no exchange had taken place
and I stood and gaped at his back.  He glanced back.  "So you coming or
not?"

"Yes.  Right behind you."

I followed him in silence after that because he seemed disinclined to talk
and I had nothing to say that wouldn't have sounded angry or bitter and I
didn't want to run the risk of him changing his mind.  As it turned out he
didn't live that far from the school at all, it only took about ten minutes
to walk there, and without the snow wouldn't have been more than five.
Thankfully, as for the last couple of minutes of the walk, the snow had
started to fall more heavily.

I don't know why it surprised me, but his house was actually in a pretty
nice part of town and didn't look anything like as small as I had thought
it would, not big but not a hutch either.  He kicked the worst of the snow
off his boots outside the door and I copied him before following him into
the welcome warmth.  The place smelled funny to me, I guess most strange
houses do a little, but it seemed clean.  Before I had a chance to really
look around a barefoot woman emerged from a door to my right, wearing a
long red kaftan kinda thing and with blond hair down past her shoulders, a
cigarette in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

"Lee, darling!"

"Hey, Sheila."  He grunted in response as she kissed his cheek.

"Oh, and friend."  She favoured me with a bright smile.  "Hello, I'm Lee's
mother."

"Hello, Mrs Mitchell."  I would have offered a hand, but both of hers were
full.

"Oh, please!  Sheila is fine."  Before any further conversation could be
had she was off again this time through the door on the left, calling out
as she went.  "Mulled wine's in the kitchen, darling, help yourself.  I
must get back to work."

"That was my mom."  Lee said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"She said."

"Yeah."  He flashed a slightly odd smile.  "She's kinda weird."

"She seemed nice."  I replied, because, well, because that's what you say
in that situation, right?

"I didn't say she wasn't."  His smile was gone.

"What?  What did I say?"  I was perplexed by these mood changes.

"Phone's this way.  Come on."  So saying he left through the door by which
Sheila had entered and I followed him into a large kitchen.  "There."  He
pointed to the phone on the wall near the fridge and then turned his back
on me to ladle what must have been some of the mulled wine into a mug.  I
lifted the handset and took my cell out to check a number.  Lee pulled up a
stool at the breakfast bar and lit a cigarette, watching me the whole time.
I don't know about you, but being stared at makes me nervous and I dialled
the wrong number at first so had to stop and start all over.  It's
unnerving.  Finally I dialled the number for my friend Steve's house and
listened to it ring forever before his father's voice came on as an
answering machine message.  I hung up.

"Problem?"  Lee asked.

"Steve.  The guy I was calling?  No answer."  I replied, annoyed.  I was
about to try Steve's cell number when Sheila came into the kitchen.

"Are you staying tonight, dear?  I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"Daniel, ma'am."

"Daniel?  What a lovely name!"  She exclaimed.  "But listen to him, Lee,
calling me ma'am!  Why don't your other friends call me that?"  She
laughed.

"Um, I'm not staying here, Mrs Mitchell."  I squirmed a little in the face
of her cheerful assumption.

"Oh, there's no need to be embarrassed, dear.  Lee often has people stay
over."

"But I was going to..." I tried again.

I glanced at Lee, but he was studying the breakfast bar intently.  "Well,
I'll leave you boys to it, I'd say not to stay up too late, but I doubt the
school will be open tomorrow."

"Um..."

"Would you like some wine, Daniel?"  She changed tack completely.  "Well,
I'm sure Lee will look after you."

"Mrs Mitchell..." Another futile effort.

"Sheila.  As I already said, Daniel."  She didn't seem to be paying
attention to my protests at all.  I cast an appealing glance at Lee, he no
more wanted me to stay there than I wanted to stay - surely there was
something he could do.  There was, as his mother bustled back out again he
shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette.

"There's a fold-out in my room."

"What?"

"You heard her, and it's really coming down out there.  You'd better stay
here, call your folks."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute."  I had to stop this madness before it went
any further.  "I thought I was an asshole?"

"You are, but you need a place to stay the night, and you're here.  If you
want to explain to Sheila," he jerked his head towards the door, "why
you're leaving, feel free."

"I guess, but you don't have to do this."

"I know I don't."  He stood up and stretched.  "But I think I can probably
stand you for one night if I have to."

I stared at him.

"Stand me?"

"Lighten up, Spencer."  He smiled and took a sip from his mug.  "So you
want some of this or not?  Sheila mulls wine pretty good."

"Your mom let's you drink alcohol?"

"Let's just say Sheila's a little unconventional."  He snorted slightly at
that and I had to smile.  "There aren't too many rules around here."

"Well, I guess I should thank you then."  I volunteered.

"There ya go, not so hard, huh?"

"Yeah, ok."  I decided that acknowledging the point was the best course of
action, after all the guy was doing me a pretty big favour.  He poured me a
mugful of the steaming liquid and handed it to me.  "Thanks."

"Twice in a row?"  His smile broadened.  "Come on then, let's get this bed
ready for you."

CONTINUED IN PART 2