Date: Sun, 02 Jul 2000 14:22:12 -0400
From: insanevisionary@hotmail.com
Subject: Barton Hardwick - Parts 1&2

 November 1999.
 7th grade sux.
 Well I guess it's not too awful bad, but there's a lot more kids
to deal with and they're all bigger'n me and there's a lot more
to learn, and changing in the locker room definitely sucks!
In English today one of the councilors came in with a new
kid.
 "Claa...ass?  She said in that dopey voice, "I want you all to
meet your new classmate from Massachusetts.  I hope you will
all make him comfortable here at Davis Regional High.  His
name is Barton Hardwick."
 He was standing kind of behind her in a button-down shirt
and sweater, grey khaki shorts and white socks with black
Rockport sneakers.  Short blonde hair and glasses and a dumb
look on his face.
 Definite geek.
 Everybody just stared as Miss Thompson the English teacher
found him a seat in the back.
 After class, three of the other boys were watching him in the
hall.  They were planning to skip next period and go outside
for a smoke.
 "Hey Bart," one of them called.
 Eddy Fortin.  Oh great.  Trouble in a tank top - just what a
new kid needs.
 "Why don't you come with us and we'll show you around."
 Yah right.  Go ahead kid.  You'll probably even get to see the
inside of the police station.
 Eddy and his pals looked at each other, smiled and walked up
to him real friendly like.
 "Hi," he said, holding out his right hand.  "Nice to meet you,
but my name is 'Bar-ton.'"
 He pronounced it "tawn."
 "Ooh, well excuse, us," one of the other boys said.
 Barton stood there with his hand extended.
 Eddy and the other two chuckled.
 Trouble.  Trouble coming.  I can see it.
 The bell for the next class rang.
 "You comin' with us? Eddy asked.
 "I... I'd better get to my next class..."
 "Yeah, go ahead," Billy Rescaus said.  "You wouldn't want to
be late would ya, Bar-ton?"
 "Haha," the other boy joined in.  "Go ahead, Bar-ton - fart-
on."
 Barton's hand dropped.
 Too late.  Eddy took a step forward and put his hand in the
middle of the boy's chest.  "Well, we'll be seein' you 'round
'Fart-on,' we just want you to know who rules here."  He gave
the boy a shove.
 Barton, unprepared, fell backward - his books strewn in the
hall.  Kids walked by fast, trying to get to class.
 I watched as the three of them fell on him.  They took off his
glasses and threw them down the polished floor.  They ripped
his books from his hands and did the same with them.
 Laughter.  The kind I'd heard before, when they had done
the same to me.
 Then, as the two others held him down, Eddy squatted close
to the new boy's head and let go.
 I heard it from where I watched.
 They left him there and went out the door towards the
athletic fields that were off limits to me.  "Haha Fart-on.  Heh
heh."
 I was going to be late for Math.
 Barton stood up and began to collect his books.
 I walked down the hall, picked up his glasses and walked
back to him.
 "Here." I handed them over.  "Those guys are idiots." I said.
"You're going to have to quit dressing like a geek and stand up
to them if you want to go to school here."
 He reached out slowly and took his glasses.
 "Thanks," he said as he got up.  "I figured I'd get to know
their type first.  Thanks a lot."
 He put his glasses on, straightened them and the books under
his arm and walked away.
 I watched as he went down the hall.  I didn't know if he was
going in the right direction for his next class.
 Math class waited.  Mr. Trenholm wouldn't mind if I was a
little late and I already was.
 Math - or "Geometry" was my next to the last class that day.
 When it was over I headed down the stairs to my locker to get
the books I would need for homework.
 I passed the hall where the maintenance guys kept their mops
and stuff and glanced down it.
 There at the end, in the shadows, was Barton.  He was sitting
on the floor in the corner.  I saw books and papers on the floor
all around him.
 I stopped.  Someone ran into me from behind.  I moved to the
side of the hall and kept looking down the hallway.
 Was it him?
 Yes it was.
 I turned the corner and approached him slowly.
 "Barton?"
 No answer.
 He looked awful.  His face was white and there was a dark
mark under his left cheek.
 Been there.  Ohh man.  I've been there.
 I grabbed a few papers and his French book together and put
then in his lap.
 He sniffed and held on to them.
 "OK.  It could be worse.  You're not bleeding, right?"  I
picked up more stuff.  "Well that's good."
 He was trying to hold on to the stuff I was throwing into his
lap.
 When he had it all, I kneeled next to him and tried to help
him get everything into a bundle he could carry.
 I had another class to go to.
 He looked up at me.  His eyes were wet.
 Oh Damn.
 His hair was a mess and his glasses were on crooked.
 "You OK?" I asked.
 He nodded.
 "OK well...  I gotta get to my next class and so do you.  Can
you make it?"
 He nodded again.
 "What's your next class?"
 "French."
 Mine too.
 "OK.  I gotta go there too, I'll help you find it if you want."
 He nodded once more.
 I stood up.  "C'mon let's go."
 "I can't."  He didn't move.
 "What?"
 "I can't go."
 "What are you talking about?  You have to.  C'mon, I'll
show you where it is."
 "No," he said, shaking his head.  "I can't."
 I looked back down at him.
 He wasn't crying anymore.  He just sat there looking up at
me.
 Slowly then, he moved the books and papers he held in his lap
to the side and began to cry softly again.
 I looked down there and saw a big, dark stain all around the
zipper of his grey shorts and down one leg.
 Oh no.
 Not that.
 Barton.  Please no.
 My gaze went from his crotch to his eyes.
The lost look on his face hadn't changed.
"Oh, boy." I sighed as I knelt again next to him.  "Jesus.
Why the Hell'd you do that?  You are in big trouble now.
If anybody else sees that you're dead."
 He nodded again as his tears fell into his already soaked lap.
 "I know.  I can't help it.  It just - happens, sometimes - when I
get upset."
 He was looking right at me now.  Helpless.
 Oh crap.
 Why'd I get myself into this?
 I know why.
 I straightened out his glasses.  Poor kid.  Needs a friend.  I
know what that's like.
 Jimmy.  I remembered Jimmy.  Jimmy Toland - my best
friend last year in sixth grade.  He'd taught me everything I'd
needed to know about getting along here before his family
moved.
 "Alright," I said as I reached to his waist.  "I think I can help
you if you want."
 He was probably wet in the back too, the way he was sitting.
 I grabbed his sweater and pulled up.
 "C'mon.  We have to take this off."
 He raised his arms and it came off easily.
 "We'll tie this around your waist so no one sees, ok?  There's
only one class left and you might get away with it.  Do you
want to go to the boys room now?"
 He nodded again.  He was good at that.
 The other hall was empty now, everyone had made it to the
last class.
 There was a boys room around the corner.
 I was gonna be late for French.  Well maybe Miss Pete
wouldn't mind too much if I showed up with a new student.
I looked down at him again.  He just looked up at me and
tried to smile, but his face was trying not to go along with him.
 I don't know why I did it, but I leaned down, drew a thumb
across both wet cheeks, and kissed him. "You'll be OK," I said.
"Just c'mon."
 Damn if I didn't just kiss another boy!
 Right on the lips.
 Holy shit!
 And it felt great!
 I stood up.  "Come on, I'll show you where the boys room is,
and then we have to go to French."
 I reached for his hand.
 "Why'd you do that?" he asked.
 "Do what?"  I felt the color rising in my face.
 "You know."
 "I dunno...  Why?"
 "No one ever kissed me before," he said.
"Well... I dunno.  Just - come on.  Let's go before we get into
trouble."
 "OK," he said, as he took my hand and got his legs under
him.
 Geez, even the floor under him was wet!  He couldn't still
have to go!
 Inside the boy's room I held both our books and listened to
him pee.
 Why the heck did I kiss him? I know.  Because I wanted to.
That's why.
 He turned from the urinal and I went to hand him his books
and stuff.
 He took them in one hand and grabbed my shoulder in the
other.
 The next thing I knew I felt his lips on mine.  Soft.  Warm.
Nice.
  "Thanks," he said.
We went to French class and I introduced him.  That was a
lonnngg class.
  The last bell rang and I went for my bus.
I stood outside in the sun waiting and watched Barton walk
along the sidewalk, his sweater covering his wet pants.  He got
into his Dad's car.
 Barton Hardwick.
 Damn.  I kissed a boy.  And I liked it.  And so did he.
 I waved as they drove by.
 Good luck.
 Good luck, Bar-tawn.

PART TWO

 I didn't see much of Barton the next day.
I figured he'd either be okay or stay at home.
 Eddy and the Jerkaloids seemed to have a rule about not
beating up on the same kid every day.
 But there he was in French class again.  Two seats up and one
row over from me.
 I caught myself looking at him twice and he caught me once,
and smiled.
 About halfway through class, Miss Pete looked at Barton and
said, "Monsieur Hardwick, ouvrez la fenetre un peu, s'il vous
plait."
 He just sat there.
 Fenetre.  That's window I think.  It was on the vocab test last
week.
 Barton got up then and went to the back of the room.  "Je ne
sais pas quelle fenetre est-ce," he said.
 Miss Pete's eyebrows went up. "La fenetre a la droit, si'l vous
pliat."
 Barton opened the right-hand window about six inches.
 "Comme ci?" he asked.
 "Oui.  Comme ca.  Merci, Barton."
 "De rien," he replied and he sat back down.
 "That was very good, Barton.  Where did you learn to speak
French like that?"
 We were all staring at him.
 He looked nervous. "My... Uh, I used to know someone who
spent a lot of time in Paris.  I guess it just rubbed off on me."
 "Well," the teacher said with a smile, "Lets hope it 'rubs off'
on the rest of the class as well."
 When the last bell rang we all went for our busses.
 I caught up with him in the hall and grabbed his arm.
 "Way to go."
 "What?" he asked plain-faced.
 "You just managed to change your status from new-kid-geek
to new-kid-teachers pet-supergeek and make the rest of us feel
like idiots all at the same time.  Not bad for your second day."
 He stopped, shook my hand off and stared at me.  He looked
like he was going to cry, but then his face changed to anger.
"I thought school was a place to learn stuff," he said stiffly.
"What was I supposed to do?  Act like I didn't understand
what she was saying?"
 "Yes."
 "Oh I get it.  Now I have to play stupid just to make friends."
He just looked at me as other kids walked by.
 Ooops.  I shouldn't have said that.  Dumb.  Very dumb, John.
I'm sorry went by in my head, but before it could get to my
mouth he turned and walked away. Shit!
 Ohhh...  Crap on toast!
 I was not going to run after him!
 Barton, wait!  Wait!!  I'm sorry I said that.  Damn!
 When I got into my seat on the bus I saw the back of his
Dad's car pulling out onto the road.  Shit.

 Part three soon.  Please respond to insanevisionary@hotmail.com