Date: Wed, 12 Jul 2000 17:39:10 -0400 (EDT) From: webtrash@unpunk.com Subject: Steam Will Rise Part 1 Steam Will Rise Disclaimer: If ya liked fascist fuck 42 (in the gay celebs section), you'll preobably like this story as well.. and oh yeah, if the idea of two young dudes discovering their love/lust for eachother is too much fer yer puny head to come to grips with, bye bye :-D Characters are fictional but based on people I know (or, rather, people I wish I "knew" hehe). There is some violence and coarse language as part of the plot. Fan Mail to webtrash@unpunk.com "now i have managed to be the one to be the victim without the gun." -silverchair, do you feel the same -----Part 1. 'Hey faggot!" Nick turned his head wearily and watched Tyson and his cronies storm down the corridor. He sighed, straightened up and folded his arms over his chest. "G'day, freak. Found a dick to suck today?" Tyson sneered, his eyebrows twitching. "Is that a request? Cause if it is, maybe you should go away and grow a little." Nick replied with a beat looking down at the greasy kid 2 years his junior. "C'mon then, poofter. Let's go." Nick considered, flexed his shoulders, then yawned and leaned back against his locker. "What and get suspended for breaking every bone in your pathetic little body? Nice try, cunt. Go find someone your own size." Tyson glared, and stormed off down the hallway, his friends abusing him until they were out of earshot. NIck licked his cracked lips and headed off down to his next class. School bored him, he want to be home, practising guitar, drinking and smoking dope with his mates, who were all out of school. He got to GTA12 and slipped quietly to the back of the room, five minutes later. "Mr Harding, stand up." Rolling his eyes, Nick stood to his feet at the command of his maths teacher. Mr Pederick was a squat man with lank blond hair, always trying to humiliate people in front of their peers, staff and students alike. Sadist. "Yes, sir?" "Can you explain your lateness to this class for the fourth time this week?" "I was on a roll sir, didn't want to disappoint you." A nervous chuckle rolled across the class. "Take your jacket off, it's not uniform." Nick let the heavy, studded leather jacket fall off his shoulders to the ground, and sat back down. "And did I ask for you to sit down again, Mr Harding?" "Did I ask for you to breathe, Sir?" Nick replied with mock sincerity. At 17, Nick was the only punk at Carlton Heights High School,. a crumbling old dump made from cement and formica in East Melbourne. His father ran away when he was 12, and Nick had been in and out of high school and juvenile institutions. He was on parole for a fistful of drug charges, but nothing seemed to matter to him anymore. Life was a rotted institution where you were held down, shaped into someone your not, and left to waste away. The silence in the room was unbearable, so Mr Pederick picked up a whiteboard marker and began to write up the days lesson on the board. He felt the glances from everybody. To be frank, Nick scared the living shit out of most of his classes. His cold, quiet demeanour, the tatoo down his face (Japanese Hiragana from "Unforgiven"), the parti-coloured brown-blue eyes, and the shoulder length dreadlocks. He was one of the taller seniors, standing at about 6'3, and dwarfed even the Phys Ed staff. Not that he did anything in Phys Ed. Thirty five minutes ticked by and the period bell rang. Like Pavlov's dogs, two dozen white-shirted robots thew their stuff into their bags and headed for the door in a wave of syncronised chaos. On his way out Mr Pederick stopped him. "We need to talk, Son." Nick spun around to face him, eyes blazing. "Don't call me son. I've been through more than you can ever imagine." "Now don't be like that, I'd like you to talk to the school counsellor-" "And I'd like you to burn in hell, but we can't always have what we want.:" Nick snarled, pulling free of Mr Pederick's hand and storming down the hallway. Next subject was music, the one subject where Nick could unwind. He was in the top of three music classes and one of the school's best music students. In the Special Music Program, he was a vocalist, a Baritone, and they wanted him to sing at the National Youth Excellence awards. But singing was his focus. He loved his guitar, it was his only real friend. So he kept them all happy, feigning interest in their stupid music program, knowing his gardes were keeping his ass in Carlton Heights. "Nick....Nick!" Karen's voice broke into his thoughts, pulling him out of his daydream. "Yes Miss?" "Please call me Karen, and this is important so please pay attention. We're discussing diatonic shifts and how they were employed in early Sacred music." "Your point being?" "Well, I know you're doing an early sacred for your finals, and -" "Absolutely not. Nein, non, nicht." "Just the pre-tacet theme, a couple bars...." Karen pleaded, eyes fixed on her prodigy. Nick regarded her. Young, 23 or 24 at the most. More ear piercings than he had ever seen on a teacher (but that wasn't hard). Black top and jeans, jet black (dyed) hair in a French braid. The one woman who made Nick wish he was straight. His heart melted. "'K, 'k orredy!" Nick sighed, stood up, and listened to the hard, thick sound of the opening chords to Et Gloria Vitalis Pax, and, in a smooth, perfect voice, began: "Et Gloria Vitalis pax, in mortem dei Et certis dei voluntatis..." Karen's eyes shone, but Nick looked steadily forward, cautiously listening for the critical base note that kept his voice on key. "... prestix ex en mabile, dei." The piano stopped, and Nick sat back down, trying to look less happy than he was about himself. That's when he noticed the kid up front glancing back at him. His name was Shane and nobody knew much about him, not even Nick. Seventeen last week, lives in Caulfield, rich parents, seen him carrying a guitar case once or twice. Plays double bass in the string quartet and concert band. Yellow eyes. That mildly interested Nick, he was a sucker for eyes, and eyes in the piqaunt shade of gold... he realised he was staring and scolded himself, looking down to the assignment sheet dropped on his desk. There was a Post-it note stuck to the front of it. Looking casually around, he unfolded it: Hang back after school. Want to discuss your singing. Buy you dinner. -Karen. His brow crumpled into confusion, and he looked up at young Greek woman organising her desk at the front. She's coming on to me?, thought Nick, and shook his head. Shane turned around again and looked him straight in the eye. Nick dryly mouthed "I want your ass, boy" to him and grinned sardonically, then looked away. The first blow took him by suprise, and he turned to his left to return a hard right into the face of the attacker, realising as his fist flattened his nose that it was Tyson and two of his mates. Suddenly angry at being taken by suprise, he brought his knee sharply up in Tyson's groin, and smiled sweetly at the pain and shock in his face as he crumpled over. As he bent, Nick brought his knee up again, this time into his face and smarting nose. Blood patted on the ground and Nick grabbed Tyson by the scruff of his neck, looking into his eyes. "Next time, you little fucking cunt, I am going to kill you. Understand?" Tyson didnt respond, so he shook him like a rag doll. "UNDERSTAND?" Tyson nooded painfully, and Nick dropped him hard against the drinking fountain. Dusting his arms off, he wandered off, trying to control his breathing and calm his nerves. What he needed was a cigarette, so he headed down to the hill behind the library. The three or four other seniors there said nothing, just nodded as Nick came through the trees, pack in hand. They smoked in silence for about five minutes, before a scrawny, wiry haired guy called Kelly leaned forward and spoke to him in a plain, nonchalant voice. "Shane Fleming is gay." Everyone at Carlton High knew Nick was a gay. A lot of them cared, and kept their distance. Most of the seniors regarded him with quiet respect as he ignored the hollered abuse and graffiti, and 'dealt with' the bashers. "Oh, and you're the authority." Nick licked his lips and drew hard on the Stueveysant between his lips, blowing chubby smoke rings towards the vent. "Nah mate, he told Helen." "Fucking intellect he is, ya think he'd want everyone to know or something." "So you knew he was gay?" "I had my ideas. But I dunno eh?" "So are you gonna like ask him out?" Nick shifted. Suddenly it was very hot in the alcove behind the library. He hated how straight people always thought that just cause a guy was queer, he'd fuck anything, fag or breeder alike. "The guy is in the string quartet, for Chrissakes" he said unconvincingly, half aloud, half to himself, suprised to think that he was considering the idea. He looked up and realised the three guys were looking at him expectedly. He gave in. "Yes he's orrite. But if I find out he files his nails and listens to Kylie, I'm going to fuck him up." His words were punctuated by the end of lunch bell, and Nick made a snap decision to look up this guy and sort him out. He found him in the design room. It was a Tech Drawing class and Mrs Banks stood at the door, trying to work out whether this was some sort of bizarre practical joke. "No, miss, Kar-Miss Voicjek insisted we rehearse for the senior concert today.:" "Is this true, Shane?" Shane glanced at Nick who winked at him, hands in pockets. Understanding flooded his beautiful golden eyes. "That was today? Oh, yes Mrs Banks. Thats right." "I'm going to need a note for this. Go. Now." Mrs Banks wearily snapped. "And Nick, take a shower for God's sake, your hair is repulsive." "You know I've always been attracted to you" Nick replied, backing out of the doorway as the class broke into laughter and applause. The two seniors walked down the hallways until they got to the music practice room. Nick was looking at Shane the whole time, sizing him up. Crewcut, freckles, down his arms, real built from the waist down. He wasn't bad in looks, and his self-conscious amble could just be an act. He was newer to the school than Nick. They got to a practice room and walked in, Nick slamming the door and locking it behind them. "OK, now why the fuck are we here?" Shane asked, geuinely confused. "You told Helen Pearce you were gay. Bad move buddy, bad move" Shane looked at him, visibly shaking with sudden fear. "And before you get all 'dont kill me dont kill me', I'm queer too. Lesson one, learn to keep the lowest profile at this school. " "Your gay?" "Yep. Now, I was wondering what - back off lover boy...." Shane withdrew from his advance towards Nick. "But isn't that why we're here dude?" "Nope. I am here to pull a bong or three. You are here to keep me company while you tell me everything you know about the Homebake festival that starts tonight at Melbourne Uni." Shane slyly asked "Got enough choof for two?" "Maybe. What you know about Homebake?" "Alternative music festival, opening concert starts 8pm. Licensed, silverchair, Living End, Jebz and , that kiwi band that starts with S.... umm, whats their name.." 'Shihad. I'm impressed. Ganked two tickets from some Year 8 brat at the assembly. Wanna go?" "Are you asking me out?" Shane warily asked as he lifted the bong to his lips. Click, bubble bubble bubble. "You could call it that. You coming or not?" "Got a car?" "Nope, was gonna take the train." "Meet me at West Caulfield station, 7pm. Thanks for bong but I gotta run. I gotta get home on time if I wanna ask my dad if I can go." "Why ask?" "He'll say yes, See you at seven." The door slammed again and Shane was gone. Nick put his bong away and sat for a while, deep in thought. The kid was gay. The kid wanted to root him. And the kid was not as much a kid as he thought he was. Glancing at his watch, he realised he had ten minutes till end of school. He listened quietly for anyone in the Performing Arts block, then took a breath and began to rehearse: "Caro mio ben, credi mialmen Senza di te...... langui schel cor...." He frowned and stopped, realising his fourth-interval jump wasn't clear. Revelling in his hate for the Italian language, he started over. Ten minutes of solid practise went past and the final bell sounded faintly in the hall. "Ahh, time for ze secret rendezvous with ze lusty wog teach of music" Nick smiled to himself. She wasn't that bad a woman. He waited for the last tired ninth-grader to leave Music Studies 3, and walked in. Karen glanced up from her lesson plan and grabbed her keys. "Let's move. This place is driving me crazy." "Long day, miss?" "Damnit, call me Karen!" Nick finished his Diet coke can and flung it out the window in the general direction of the bin. He was sitting in his music teacher's little white Festiva and they definitely weren't talking about his singing. Anything but. Nick sighed and turned back, to see Karen smiling radiantly. She leaned forward. "You know I've always thought we were close." Her lips met his, and Nick returned the kiss. He'd never kissed a female, and it felt... different. Soft. gentle. He smelt her perfume and pulled away almost violently. "Miss, Karen, whatever, this isn't right." "Is it because I'm your teacher?" "It's because your a woman, Karen, and I'm queer!" he flung open the door and stormed off down the highway in the rain. The rain was hard and relentless all the way home, washing her smell and taste off him. He loved the rain. He ran though the streets all the way home to his fibro Ministry of Housing home in the slums of town. "Where the hell have you been?" his mother said, rising from her seat at the dinner table in concern. She was still in her work clothes. "Mum, I, well, I." Then Nick did a very strange thing. His lip curled, his eyes welled up and he burst into tears. He slid against the wall to the floor, weeping, his mother cradling his head and shoulders as tears of anger, confusion and tiredness ran down his face and neck. Today he was abused, humiliated, attacked and molested. He had a shitty upbringing and a though shell, but that was just too much for him. They sat out on the back porch, passing a joint back and forth. After a while his mother spoke. "You want to charge her?" "No." "You don't want to sing anymore, I suppose." "No." His mother said nothing. She coughed a little from the harsh weed and took his hand. "it's getting dark, and you have your concert tonight. You want some money for dinner?" Nick smiled. They were mortal enemies and best friends. She hated his tattoo, threw his stuff out onto the verardah when he didnt tidy up, and nagged him halfway to insanity. And here she was, giving him dope and money so he could go to Homebake. "That'd be nice. Mum, I've - I'm taking a guy with me." An uneasy silence followed. Finally, she spoke. "Well I hope you and him have fun. What's his name?" "Shane." "Bring him home to meet me afterwards." "Mum--" "I'm not going to be able to accept it unless I face it. He can stay the night, but God help me if your brother finds out I let you spend the night in this house with another boy." "Whatever. He's just like his father. I'm outta here." He stopped at the back gate. "Love you mum." --- End part 1.