Nifty Disclaimer - This story is a work of fiction and contains scenes including sexual relations between people of the same gender. If this isn't your cup of tea, or is illegal where you live, please do not read. Any relation between fictional characters and real people is purely coincidental.

Do Over

Chapter 12

By DK Stories

The next morning, the bowl of strawberries and chocolate had been turned over, untouched except for that one time, the bottle of wine, untouched except for those half-glasses earlier had been knocked over and its contents stained the wrestling mat. Our singlets lay on the grass where we'd thrown them sometime during the night, and we lay curled around each other, waking with the dawn and a warm fuzzy glow that I could never really remember having experienced before.

"My dick hurts." Brian said softly as his hands stroked my hair gently.

"So does mine." I admitted with a little laugh.

"You only came five times." Brian pointed out. "I came six."

"Yeah, well, you're the tough guy." I said and he laughed.

"You ready for your sixth time?" He asked me with a leer and I could only nod as he moved down, taking me into his mouth.

No, he wasn't as expert as some people I'd been with in my old life. He was fourteen and this was the first time he'd ever done something like this. I'd had to talk him through things slowly, but it was worth every word because by now he was becoming quite good, and no one could compare with the emotions that went with his every lick, his every movement as he took me into his mouth.

I decided it was time to teach him what sixty-nine really meant, and pulled out of his mouth just long enough to reposition myself. He seemed to instinctively guess what I was doing and the moans from both of us were probably loud enough to wake the neighbors, wake them that is, if they'd ever been able to go to sleep with all the moaning we'd been doing throughout the night. Despite being sore, and overused, he felt good and it wasn't long before we were both shooting, me only a moment before he emptied another load into my mouth.

"Okay, that's enough." He said with a gasp after he stopped shaking from the orgasm. I laughed lightly, moving back so we were lying side by side, my head resting against his shoulder. I dozed off again, and he must have as well because when we next woke the sun was well up over the horizon and a quick glance into the living room showed we had a half-hour before his parents got home.

Somehow we managed to pick things up and put them away, all without spending more than a minute without being in physical contact with each other. With ten minutes to go until they were supposed to be home, we got into the shower, together, by unspoken consent, and began to wash each other clean. That got us both hard again, but we were both too sore to do anything, instead just choosing to touch each other and clean one another all over. We even dried each other off after the shower was over, and when we entered the hallway, his parents were standing at the end, smiling at us.

"I win, they were in there for an hour." Mom B said with a smile.

"He's mine." Brian said reflexively, pulling me against him and both of the adults burst out into laughter.

"Oh god, he's just like me." Dad B said with a broad smile.

"That's two you owe me." Mom B said to her husband and smiled at us. "The first time Ben and I did anything like what probably happened here last night, he said 'she's mine' to everyone we met."

"He's mine." Brian repeated, this time with a hint of laughter and we all laughed so hard there were tears in our eyes.

"You boys better get a move on if you still want to get to San Francisco." Dad B said and Brian pushed me towards the bedroom very gently. When he shut the door behind us, he looked at me for a long moment with a silly smile on his face.

"You're mine." He said to me and I smiled.

"Yes, I'm yours and we better get dressed."

"Okay." Brian said with a shrug.

I moved to the dresser for underwear and socks while he moved to the closet. Brian pulled out two tight grey t-shirts with blue lettering that said "Downey High Football" on them. He then pulled out two tight pairs of 501's and two pairs of white tennis shoes. Every time we went to the hospitals in S.F., we always wore similar type outfits. Mom B had thought at first we were teasing the men who we were visiting, but Brian had explained that no gay man would object to a handsome kid wearing tight clothes visiting him as he lay on his death bed. Sometimes being eye candy could be a good thing.

"Oh crap, I almost forgot!" Brian remarked as we were putting on our boxers. He finished pulling his up and rooted around in his dresser's top drawer before pulling out a long, flat box and handed it to me. "This is for you."

"It's beautiful." I said as I opened it to find a gold and silver inlaid Timex watch. I didn't hesitate to put it on, and then found my bag to pull out the gift I'd bought him two weeks ago. I kissed him as I put it in his hand. "This is for you."

"I love it." He said as he pulled out a twisted gold bracelet. I had to help him put it on, and he kissed me when it was in place. A knock at the door reminded us we were supposed to be getting dressed, and we finished quickly.

"I've called Doctor Grayson and told him we're running late." Dad B said as we came out of the bedroom. "You boys ready?"

"Yeah, let's go." Brian said with a grin and we headed out to the car with Mom B bringing up the rear. During the drive, Brian's parents used the opportunity to question me about how I was doing mentally. They were obviously concerned about the events at school, and at my home. Both seemed relieved that Brian and I were adapting okay, and hadn't run into any insurmountable problems.

When we arrived at SF General Hospital, they dropped us off at the main entrance and went about their own business in the city. Mom B was going shopping on Market Street, and Dad B was going to interview applicants for a room that had opened up in the apartment Brian and I had inherited. It was a three-bedroom and he rented out each room for $450 a month. By the mid-1990's those prices would reach close to a thousand, but even now $450 times three was pretty good income.

Doc Grayson was waiting for us on the floor of the AIDS ward. It was a different floor than it had been when we first visited Uncle Rich, painted in warmer, richer colors and actually pretty decent for a hospital. He spent a good twenty minutes interrogating us about events of the last week at home, and expressed his dislike of how my parents were handling thing.

"I think Dick's almost as pissed as I am." Grayson said near the end of our conversation, referring to his friend my mom worked for. "I know he sat your mom down and had a long talk with her."

"I hope he wasn't going to fire her." I said worriedly. "That job's doing her a lot of good."

"No, no she's a good office manager." Grayson assured me with a smile. "If she hadn't at least listened to what he had to say, and all he was doing was asking her to think about what he had to say, he might have, but she did listen."

"Yeah, and she's probably thinking about it too." Brian added. "She was at the game last night with his sister."

"Dick said that's what he talked about with her." Grayson said with that knowing smile of his. "He talked about loving children no matter what, and being there for them whenever you can be. He also talked about how…homosexuality isn't a disease, but he stressed mostly keeping in touch and caring for children. He's got four of his own and is very sensitive about them."

"Well tell him I said thanks." I said appreciatively. It had been really good to see Mom there, and to talk with her. When we'd gone to dinner last night, I'd left the pictures she'd brought in the car and had asked Trevor to put them in my bedroom with the picture of Brian and me.

"I will." Grayson chuckled. "Now, I guess I should leave the two of you to your visits. There are two people still here from the last time you visited. They're responding very well to the new treatments and we're holding out hope that this might be the first of those successful inhibitors you mentioned a few times."

"In 1983?" I said with some surprise, looking around to make sure we weren't close enough to anyone who could hear.

"Yeah, well, so far we've collected nearly $200 million for research thanks to your ideas that I passed along." Grayson said softly. "Then, there's the fact that the government has declared this a high priority and thrown its own weight behind the research, and some of the things you said and I passed along gave certain researchers insights that they might not have had for years. I assume you know the story about the huge boulder, the farmer trying to roll it out of the way, the smaller rock, and the big stick?"

"Yeah, he pushes against the rock for years and gets no where with moving it out of his field." I said. "Then he sees a smaller rock and a big stick lying in the field after a storm and gets the idea of using the stick as a lever, braced on the smaller rock, and he rolls the boulder out of his field."

"Well, you gave us the small rock and we used the stick." Grayson said, and I felt my chest swell and constrict at the same time. "It's really too bad you won't let me give you all the credit you're due."

"I think you understand why not." I reminded him and he nodded.

"Fine, fine, your reasons are still just as valid as they were when we first met." He conceded and I relaxed slightly. "Here's a list of the patients who haven't had any visitors since they were admitted, and you might want to stop by and see Mike Fox as well as Tim Winders."

"Thanks doc." I said taking the list. The last two he mentioned were the ones who had been here the last time we visited. Brian and I looked over the list, split up the names and rooms, and took off separately. Brian might be very jealous, but he never seemed to get jealous on these visits. Then again, I was very jealous of him too, and didn't react that way either.

These visits were emotionally draining on both of us. Anyone who's ever visited someone dying in the hospital can attest to how draining such visits can be. Visiting men who'd often faced rejection by the families before establishing lives on their own, and now facing a disease that made them social pariahs of the highest order was even more draining. Some faced their deaths with high spirits, and were actually fun to visit, while others withdrew into their misery. Nonetheless, each of them got a smile, an ear to listen to their stories, or just a comforting presence for a little while. We'd stopped on the way up for lunch, so Brian and I kept on visiting people all afternoon, making our last stops with the two who were responding to this new treatment.

That ended our visit on a very high note since both of them were looking quite a bit better, and actually in great spirits. They were in the same room together, so Brian and I were able to sit next to each other while the two regaled us with stories of their careers as drag queens. As we left, I silently prayed that they would be among the first to survive this damned disease.

Mom and Dad B were waiting for us near the nurse's station, talking with Doctor Grayson. That man, I reflected, was not someone who filled the typical opinions of doctors who spent all their days at the golf course instead of taking care of their patients. He was at the hospital seven days a week, and spent far more time there than he did at home. Yeah, he made a lot of money, but in my opinion he earned every bit of it.

It was dark by the time we arrived at Fisherman's Wharf for dinner. I loved seafood, and every trip up here we would have dinner at various restaurants before heading home. The conversation was light at dinner that night, with a lot of teasing by Brian's parents. They both made us blush several times.

I fell asleep with my head on Brian's shoulder as we drove home, totally missing the trip after we entered the Bay Bridge. Brian shook me awake as we got to his home, and we changed into some sweat pants before heading out to his garage. It seemed like ages since we'd worked out on his weight equipment together, and it was actually very relaxing since we didn't go all out.

It was after I'd finished a round of bench presses that Brian leaned over from where he'd been spotting for me, running his hands down my chest, over my abdomen, and inside my sweatpants. His crotch was positioned right above me, and I could see his erection tenting his grey sweatpants. Without even thinking about it, I reached up, pulled them down so that his erection plopped free, and took it into my mouth.

His musky smell enveloped me even as I swallowed him as far as I could reach. His moan echoed in the garage and motivated me to maneuver around so that I could take the last inch into my throat. His grip on my erection loosened slightly as he began to pump in and out of me, burying his cock all the way down my throat before pulling out so just the head was inside my mouth, and I could tease the tip with my tongue before he pushed back down again. We went on like that for what seemed an eternity, and a mere instant at the same time before I felt his body stiffen and he began to pump erratically while his erection shot several loads into my throat.

"Fuck." Brian moaned as he pulled his sensitive, and deflating cock out of my mouth after his last spurt had long since subsided. He was smiling weakly at me and moved down into a squat so that he could kiss me gently. "Sometimes I wish we hadn't waited so long, but then I'm glad we did because it's even more special now."

"Yeah, me too." I said as he kissed me one last time before moving around the bench and positioning himself over my own crotch. He pulled down my sweatpants quickly and it was my turn to moan as he took me into his mouth. I didn't last nearly as long as he did before my body was jerking in the throes of an orgasm.

His parents tortured us by making us do the homework from the classes we shared before we could go to bed. We tried to head off to the bedroom at eight, but Mom B demanded we bring out Brian's books and finish our homework. By ten we were both yawning, although only half were fakes, and she finally relented, allowing us to escape into his bedroom, with the both of them smiling at our backs.

Sunday morning Dad B gave me a ride back to the Rush farm. I was dead tired, but ready to help Trevor out with the last of his morning chores (feeding the horses and cleaning out their trough). Then it was inside for a quick shower, light breakfast, and then we were off to the Orthodox Church.

The church was a small stand-alone building near the north part of town. There were maybe twenty people there at most, and I quickly found out that all of them were Russian expatriates, or at least spoke the language much more fluently than I did. I watched the actual service with some fascination since it was in Old Russian, and I understood very little of what was said.

When we got back from church, Tyatya cooked a hearty Russian lunch, after which Trevor and I worked on homework. I had nothing but German and Geometry left thanks to Mom B, and was actually glad I was doing it there instead of with Brian's family. Dyadya was quite helpful explaining the things I was having problems with. For some odd reason, translating them into Russian and thinking about them that way was easier than trying to remember what I'd learned the first time around and still messing up.

Math was never my strong suit the first time around, but with Dyadya helping, I was actually getting a lot better. Maybe it had something to do with translating it into Russian and hearing his explanations in Russian and translating them back into English, or maybe he was just a good teacher. It didn't matter though, because I was starting to understand math a lot better than I ever thought possible.

Tyatya proved to be helpful on the German homework. She'd studied at Moscow State University, which was where she'd met Dyadya. There she'd studied linguistics and spoke fluent, nearly accent free, English, German, and Romanian, in addition to her native Russian. The only difference was, she spent most of the time going between Russian and German instead of German and English. I had to laugh at the image of my German teacher asking me a question and I answering in Russian.

As the sun set, Trevor and I walked out into the orchard, talking quietly about the upcoming week at school. Most of our conversation was actually in Russian, and it wasn't until we were near the end of the orchard that I realized what language we were speaking in. He and I had almost always used purely English before.

[Why are we still speaking in Russian?] I asked him in that language. He just looked at me with a funny smile and shrugged.

[I'm use to thinking in it while at home.] He replied. [At school, I always think in English, but here, it is Russian.]

"Cool." I said in English and he laughed. We began to head back to the house then, and as we passed near the barn, he looked at me with a wistful expression.

[You want to stop in the barn?] He asked me in Russian and I realized why he was looking wistful.

[No.] I answered simply and he looked a little crestfallen.

"We don't have to do anything together, just maybe, you know, beat off?" He asked, switching to English.

"Trevor, I'm sorry, but no." I said firmly. "Don't take it the wrong way, if I wasn't with Brian, I'd jump at the chance to have fun with you."

"You and Brian really are serious about this being faithful thing, aren't you?" He asked me with a sigh.

"Yeah, he's totally all I ever want." I said firmly.

"You guys haven't even blown each other yet." Trevor sulked and I burst out laughing. He stared at me as I laughed hard and then smiled. "You guys finally did that, eh?"

"Fuck yeah." I answered him and he shook his head.

"I guess there's no chance of anyone luring either of you away from each other." Trevor said with a grin.

"No chance at all." I said with confidence.

"Well, I'm going into the barn." Trevor said and I nodded.

"Have fun." I told him without any second thoughts. He just smirked at me and headed off to the barn while I headed back into the house. Tyatya looked up from the crossword puzzle she was doing and smiled.

[Where Trevor?] She asked me.

[Barn.] I answered and she smiled knowingly while Dyadya coughed from the reclining chair where he was reading some book in Russian. I could see a few letters of the title, but not enough to tell what it was. The living room had a wall with built-in bookshelves, and was stuffed full of books. I walked over there since the television was off, as it always was except for the local and national news, and picked a book of poems by Derzhavin. I'd memorized a few of them for college courses the first time around and enjoyed them.

[Derzhavin is a good start.] Dyadya said approvingly as I sat down on the couch and opened the book.

[To myself I have built a monument.] I quoted the beginning line of Derzhavin's very last poem, written by the man while he was on his deathbed. Dyadya nodded while looking at me with what I knew was curiosity. It had taken me a while to come up with a cover story for how I knew Russian, and the next time he, or anyone asked, I'd use that story. I'd even made sure it would hold up on closer examination.

[You have read Derzhavin before?] Dyadya asked me and I nodded.

[At the county library.] I told him. [They have not many Russian books, but enough to understand some.]

[Aha!] He exclaimed, taking the statement as how I'd learned Russian at all. It felt better that I didn't have to directly lie to him, just let him assume that was where I'd learned the language, from books in the library.

Trevor came back in the house about twenty minutes later, giving me a look as if to tell me I'd missed out on something. I remembered the time in my original life that we had gotten together, and he had been good, but Brian meant so much more to me than a fun roll in the hayloft (although I wouldn't turn down the chance for Brian and I to roll around in that hayloft together). However much fun Trevor was in bed, or would be in this time, Brian was just that much more, mostly because of the feelings I had for him, feelings I didn't have for Trevor.

Monday morning dawned bright and early.

I knew that because I was up before dawn helping Trevor with the morning chores. I'd never really liked getting up before dawn, but I could when it was necessary. As long as I was here with Trevor and his family, it was necessary so I would be up each morning and help him with the different tasks he had.

[You ever milk a cow before?] He asked me in Russian as we headed outside in work clothes.

[Of course] I replied easily. [In my other life I did.]

[Good, then you will milk the cow while I get the feed ready.] He said.

The only problem was, when I'd milked a cow before, it had been at the age of fifteen, while living in Nevada. That meant it had been twenty-one years before I took part in the experiment that sent me back to my twelve-year old body. To make things more difficult, those times had been with a milking machine, but there was no milking machine here. Fortunately I remembered the technique and it only took me a few tries to get it right. The poor cow sounded like I was killing her though, and Trevor came by to see what I was doing. He muttered a few comments about fixing my style a little better, and I managed to fill the clean bucket he'd pointed out earlier for me to use.

Then he had to walk me through the process they'd used to get it ready for consumption. It wasn't too hard, and I finished it by carrying the bucket inside where Tyatya would separate some out for making butter and the rest would be put in the fridge for drinking. After that, I helped Trevor spread the hay out for the horses while he explained that she took fresh milk to several babushkas who attended the church (babushka is the Russian word for grandmother and is also used to describe older ladies, usually widows).

After chores, we headed upstairs for showers before breakfast. Tyatya always cooked breakfast each morning, and I was growing to like it a lot in the little time I'd been with them. It was nice not having to cook if I wanted to eat, and despite what some people might think about Russian cooking, I enjoyed it a lot. It didn't hurt that I enjoyed real fresh milk, and homemade butter even more.

Damn the arteries, I was staying in shape after all.

Dyadya drove us to school this morning since he was off to Livermore and his work. Brian was already there, waiting for me, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders as soon as I stepped inside the school. Brandon showed up five minutes later, his older brother having dropped him off. I was surprised since his older brother went to college in Berkely, but Brandon explained his brother had come down for the weekend and was on his way back. The lucky guy didn't have a first class until eleven in the morning and so would have plenty of time to make it back to campus.

"Ah, just the young men I wanted to see." Principal Borsch's voice caught us just as we started to head off towards the cafeteria lawn. "Mr. Jones, Mr. Breckenridge, would you join me in my office please?"

"On our way." Brian called out to him, steering me in a turn-around to head that way.

"We'll see you guys later." Brandon said with a shrug and a glance that said they'd expect a full story of what happened. We entered the office, went around the counter and followed Mr. Borsch into his office, taking the seats he motioned to without saying a word. When we sat down, our smiles faded at his serious expression.

"We have a problem, and I really don't like it at all." He said grimly and I got that sinking feeling in my stomach again. Why couldn't we go one Monday without problems? Okay, we usually did, but since last Monday, I'd spent more time in this office talking about 'problems' than I cared to think about.

"What's the problem?" Brian asked after Mr. Borsch didn't continue.

"Sunday afternoon I began receiving several phones calls from the parents of students, and from three of the district board members." Mr. Borsch said and I let out an audible groan. He just nodded.

"Let me guess." I said as my stomach roiled slightly. "They were about Brian and me."

"Yes, they were." Mr. Borsch confirmed. "I received six phone calls from parents of football team members, and fourteen calls from parents of other students. This morning there were eighty-three calls from parents on the school's message system."

"That's a lot of phone calls." Brian said with a whistle. "What did they all say?"

"Mostly that they couldn't understand why the school would let perverts like you two run around flaunting yourselves without being punished." Mr. Borsch answered. "Some seemed to think the way you walk around with your arms around each other sends the wrong message to other kids. Others wonder why you weren't kicked out or at least suspended. Most wanted to see you thrown off the team and the student council for not being properly apologetic about your deviancy. Those were their terms, not mine."

"I figured that." I said. "Sorry you're getting so much flack. Are you going to cave to the pressure?"

"The board is going to discuss changes to the student code of conduct." Mr. Borsch answered somewhat indirectly. "After I pointed out you two would likely bring a discrimination case, and might win after costing the district hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees, if we told you that you couldn't show the same 'signs of affection' as heterosexual students, they decided they would change the policy to forbid any show of affection between students."

"That's going to go over really well." I snorted and he nodded.

"The Code currently prohibits excessive public displays of affection, like deep kissing, but you two haven't even come close to that." He said with some approval in his voice, and a slight smile. "I do appreciate that by the way."

"The school doesn't need to see him when I kiss him like that." Brian said with some smugness and Mr. Borsch had to fight to keep from laughing.

"I hope you two understand that you'll be blamed for the change in policy when it happens?" Mr. Borsch pointed out and we both nodded.

"We'll do our best to point the blame back at the tight-ass church-goers who forced the change." I said. "Maybe we'll start a petition as well. It worked with the no-off-campus lunch idea that was thrown around earlier."

"Make sure you get all the signatures you can." Mr. Borsch said with a tight smile.

"We will." I said, hoping this was it. "Thanks for warning us about this. Is there anything else?"

"Unfortunately, there is something more." Mr. Borsch said and I exhaled long and hard as he frowned at us. "The parents of the football team members, and school board members expressed a concern about the health danger you pose to your teammates by remaining on the team."

"Health danger?" Brian asked with a frown. "What, just because we managed to hold our own last week we're now a health danger?"

"No, they fear you may spread AIDS to other team members." Mr. Borsch said and my temper flared into full force.

"Bullshit!" I nearly shouted. "That's total bullshit! Just because we're gay they naturally assume we have fucking AIDS?"

"Language, Mr. Jones." Mr. Borsch said sharply and I took a deep breath.

"My apologies, sir." I said, trying to sound humble and he nodded.

"I can understand your anger, especially since I used a few of those words myself when I heard what they were saying." Mr. Borsch said with a shrug. "The problem is, they aren't saying it's just because you're gay. Where were you guys this weekend?"

"We were in San Francisco visiting the AIDS ward." Brian said automatically, and comprehension dawned on us both at the same time.

"So they're saying because we visit AIDS patients we're infected?" I asked.

"Essentially, yes, although there were several hints that you probably have sex with the men you visit and that's how you caught the disease." Mr. Borsch answered. "To make matters worse, I've already fielded a phone call from the Bee, asking about the 'story' that's developing."

"Davey has sex with no one but me, and I've only done it with him." Brian asserted angrily. "We've only done it with each other, neither of us have ever touched another person that way."

"That's a little more than I needed to know, but it's reassuring that you boys aren't sleeping around on each other." Mr. Borsch said. "You're not the first gay couple I've known, and it's nice to know the stereotype is so easily broken. The problem is, even if there is no untoward contact with the patients in San Francisco, you do visit AIDS patients."

"So every person who visits someone sick with AIDS is automatically a health risk to everyone they come into contact with?" I retorted angrily.

"No, but several nurses have caught the disease from treating patients." He pointed out.

"Doesn't apply, we don't 'treat' them." I countered. "We just visit them."

"You have to understand, most people don't know that much about this disease, even now that it's been in the news for two years." Mr. Borsch said and my stomach was queasy in the extreme as my temper kept on trying to get out of control. "Hell, I don't know everything I'd like to about it to feel safe."

"We can arrange for some of this country's best doctors who are treating this disease to come to this very school and talk about the disease, in full." I said, quite certain I could talk Doctor Grayson into coming here for that purpose.

"I might take you up on that, but parents are going to object to it being discussed in school at all." Mr. Borsch replied. "They're even fighting on including it in the Health class curriculum."

"It's federal law that all health classes will teach about AIDS." I said. That had been pushed through late last year and would take effect at the beginning of the next calendar year. "The President himself signed the bill after Rock Hudson died."

"They're trying to limit how it's taught." Mr. Borsch clarified with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"They can't." I said angrily. I never followed the news much, because I didn't want to be tempted to use my knowledge of future events to change things, and there hadn't even been a hint of this at student council meetings. "The law that was passed was very, very specific on what was to be taught. It was a compromise because the Republicans objected to anything mentioning gay people, but it's still damn clear and gets the facts right about the disease and its transmission."

"And that's what they don't like, the description of it being passed contains too much direct sexual information for those who are opposing it to be happy." Mr. Borsch said, the hint of exasperation becoming much stronger. "But that's not the point here, what is, is that they are using the fear of AIDS to come up with some strong arguments on why you two should not be allowed on the football team, or even among the general population of the school."

"Ryan White." I whispered, remembering the hemophiliac kid that had literally been run out of school when it was discovered he had AIDS. That had been in my original life, though, not here and now.

"What?" Mr. Borsch asked.

"Nothing." I said, frowning that I'd said it aloud. Now I had some idea directly of how he must have felt. I felt like I was going to throw up the good breakfast I'd eaten.

"Mr. Borsch, we don't have AIDS." Brian said firmly.

"How can you be so sure of that?" Mr. Borsch asked us.

"We're sure because we get tested monthly as part of the agreement with the hospital for allowing our visits to the patients there." I said. Dad had almost refused to sign that form, but I'd talked him into it a year ago.

"In some respects that helps, but in others it doesn't." Mr. Borsch said slowly. "It helps to show you aren't infected, but it bolsters the argument that you might become infected by visiting these patients and thus are a danger to the team."

"Who was the Bee reporter who called?" I asked him, my brain shifting into full gear and thinking hard.

"Bill Riley." Mr. Borsch answered and I smiled. I'd known Bill Riley in my original life, although not clearly. When President Clinton had announced his plans to change the policy on gays in the military, but before he came out with 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', I'd participated in a local forum on gays who had served in the armed forces. Bill Riley had covered the event, and while he wasn't pro-gay, he was scrupulously fair, and covered issues from all the angles he could find.

"You said you got the phone calls starting Sunday afternoon?" I asked Mr. Borsch.

"Yes, it was around two o'clock." He answered.

"So, more than enough time to get home from church, eat you meal with your family and then call the school principal." I postulated and Mr. Borsch nodded. He'd obviously made the connection.

"Yes, and before you ask all three board members who called me are also members of a certain, large, Baptist church." Mr. Borsch further answered and I nodded.

"Any chance Bill Riley would want to talk to Brian and I?" I asked and Mr. Borsch smiled.

"He would jump at the chance, but Brian, your parents must agree and will probably want to be there." Mr. Borsch said. "Davey, your situation is a lot more complicated. You'll probably have to get at least your foster parents to approve, but more likely you'll have to get Social Services and possibly the court to approve you talking to him as well."

"I'll call Mary Lou at lunch." I said firmly.

"Who is Mary Lou?" Mr. Borsch asked me.

"My case worker." I told him and he nodded.

"You mean Ms. Hacker." He stated and I just nodded in return. "That's definitely a beginning, but that doesn't answer what to do about your places on the team."

"We'll have Doctor Grayson forward copies of our last blood test to you." Brian said thoughtfully. "I think if we ask him to, he'll also send you a letter giving his opinion on the level of danger we pose to the rest of the team. He's the country's leading doctor on AIDS right now."

"I've heard the name." Mr. Borsch said. "Is that the 'specialist' you mentioned you might be able to come to the school?"

"Yes, he is." I answered.

"You know, he might carry a lot of weight." Mr. Borsch said thoughtfully. "Get me those test results, and a letter from him and I'll accept that as settling the concerns that have been expressed to me. If the school board wants to override my decision, they'll have to do it in a public hearing."

"May I use your phone to call San Francisco?" I asked him and he looked a little surprised, but nodded as he pushed it towards me. Picking up the receiver I dialed Dr. Grayson's home and got his wife, who told me he'd been called in at three that morning. I then called the hospital and they transferred me to the floor nurse's station. It took three minutes of waiting, during which the bell rang for first period, before he picked up the line. It took me about five minutes to explain what was going on, and his reaction was as bad as mine had been.

"How dare they try to drag you kids through the mud!" Doctor Grayson exploded, the tiredness in his voice when he answered was completely gone now. "I'll get your test results sent to the school by courier and I'll have my office type up a letter that tells your principal in no uncertain terms that there is about as much risk of you having AIDS as any other student at that school! Do you want me to come down there and talk to him face to face?"

"Um, thanks but that won't be necessary right now." I said with a smile. "Although we might ask you to come down and do a lecture about the disease and if the school board tries to get involved there will be a public hearing."

"I'll be there." Doctor Grayson said firmly. "It's about time I can do something for you guys. Oh, by the way, the emergency this morning was Tim Winders. He developed a fever overnight and we thought it was going to kill him, but he's doing okay now."

"Thank god." I said softly and Brian looked worried for a moment. "Give Tim our best and tell him we're pulling for him."

"Will do, and we'll be pulling for you too." Doctor Grayson said before hanging up.

"He'll have the latest test results, and a letter for you sent here as soon as possible." I told Mr. Borsch who nodded.

"What was wrong?" Brian asked.

"Tim developed a fever last night and it was bad for a while." I told Brian. "He's pulling through though, and it's looking better."

"Who's that?" Mr. Bosch asked.

"Possibly the first guy to survive with a new drug they're developing." I said and Mr. Bosch's eyes widened slightly.

"You mean they're getting close to a cure?" He asked me.

"No, it's a drug that stops the progression of the virus and keeps the person alive longer." I answered. "It's not a cure, but it might keep people alive, and it might let them live close to normal lives."

"I haven't heard anything about it on the news." Mr. Bosch said.

"It's experimental, and they aren't releasing any information on it until they have some results." Brian explained and he looked at us for a long moment.

"Are you two planning on becoming doctors?" Mr. Bosch asked.

"No, lawyers." Brian answered and the expression on the principal's face made us break out into laughter.

"Get to class." Mr. Bosch mock-snarled, handing us a late pass to our first-period English course.

During lunch, Mr. Bosch found us in the cafeteria where we were sitting with Brandon, Trevor, and Sean, and told us a harried messenger had arrived with the documents from Doctor Grayson. Apparently Grayson had hired someone to DRIVE all the way here and hand deliver the documents, and then required him to call the Doctor's office to confirm they were everything the principal needed. In addition to the letter there was a large packet of information on the disease, how it was transmitted, and some other related material. What surprised him, and us when he told us, was that four floor nurses had also written letters that praised us, and gave strong statements that they had observed no behavior that would put us at risk for transmission of the disease.

Since all four of those nurses stated that they'd been working on the floor and at least one of them had been present every time we visited (they'd even listed the dates), it provided a clear rebuttal of the more wild claims offered by those who'd called the school. Mr. Borsch was practically gleeful at the wording of the letters, since they were so well-worded that they dealt with every argument he had received so far. Before he left, he told us he was already having everything copied and sent to every board member of the district, and to the principals of the other high schools.

The rest of the day passed quietly for us. At practice there were no comments, although two of the team's players did come up and tell us their parents had threatened to pull them off the team because they were worried about AIDS. Brian made it a point to thank them, and to talk about how the disease was spread. Both of them looked uncomfortable with the topic, but listened to what he said, which was a good sign to me. Mom B picked us up from practice and I did most of my homework with Brian, saving my German and Geometry for home with Tyatya and Dyadya. We even managed a short 'workout' in the garage, but we didn't lift any weights.

Tyatya's dinner was wonderful, and I helped Trevor finish up the evening chores. Then, we went inside and worked on our homework, once again I got help from both of his parents, and we finished the evening with me reading Derzhavin for another hour before bedtime. As I went to sleep, I tried to push the nagging bits of worry aside, knowing that whatever was to come, I'd have to face it no matter if I slept or not.

I'd just be better prepared if I did sleep, and that was enough to send me into slumber land, complete with dreams of Brian.

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As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!

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A/N - Several Readers have asked if I have a website or other stories on the net. Some of my early stories, including MIsts of Fate were posted here to Nifty and to www.dabeagle.com . Most of my later stories are now posted on www.gayauthors.org in the Hosted Authors section (just look for DK Stories). Enjoy!