Date: Wed, 4 Feb 2009 18:17:29 -0600 From: Terrance MacDonald Subject: Brandon & Alex 45 This story involves sexual situations between teen boys, so if you aren't supposed to be looking at things like this wherever you live, or this makes you squeamish, please leave this story/site now and/or move to a place where things like this are acceptable. Likewise, if you aren't old enough to look at filth like this wherever you happen to be, or if you or are a card-carrying member of the Moral-Minority, shoo, go away. I certainly can't control whether you do or not, but you have been warned. As always, I would like to thank my good friends, Mike and Dave for being my editors and proof-readers on this story, as well as offering some really helpful assistance along the way. Thanks also go to the Nifty Archive for hosting this and all the other stories. They do take donations to defray operating expenses, so please help them out if you can. All rights are reserved, do not modify or redistribute this text without my express written consent, or I'll have the old gypsy woman that lives across the lake from me put a curse on you. Like the other stories I've written, this is set in a magical land where there are no STDs, so you won't be reading about condoms being used except in this disclaimer. This is not meant to imply that I am advocating the practice of unsafe sex, quite the opposite actually - please take precautions and protect yourself, there's a lot of shit out there that can kill you or make you wish you were dead. Comments and feedback are certainly welcomed at t_macd@comcast.net. I've really enjoyed hearing from everyone who has written, please keep on letting me know what you do and don't like. E-mail me for a complete list (with Nifty Archive links) of my previous stories should you care to do so. Brandon and Alex Chapter Forty Five Michael left Bobby alone in his room, still naked and sitting on the side of his bed. He walked down the stairs slowly, as if he was reluctant to leave - and in a way he was. He picked up his shoes from the front hallway and carried them out to the front porch and sat down in one of the white, wooden rocking chairs to put them on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a sort of intuition told him that Bobby was holding something back from him. He shook his head, as if to dispel the thought. 'But why would Bobby be hiding anything?' he thought. He paused in the chair for a moment after he'd tied his shoes, contemplating that idea before he dismissed it, stood up and walked down the steps to his car. When he pulled out of Bobby's driveway, he noticed that there was a lot of activity a few houses down, where Billy lived. It looked to him as if there was a construction project starting. That had his attention as he started to ease off the clutch and pull into the street. A horn blared, and he quickly stopped the car. A large pickup truck towing a short trailer passed him and pulled to a stop in front of Billy's house. Whatever was on the trailer was bulky, and covered with a large, blue tarpaulin. It was impossible to tell what was underneath, but Michael assumed it had something to do with the other construction equipment gathered there. At the side of the house, a crew was taking down a section of the privacy fence to allow the equipment into the backyard. He thought briefly about taking the long way home, so he could drive past Billy's house just to see what was going on, but decided against it. It was obvious that they were just getting started, so it would be unlikely that he'd be able to tell what they were doing anyway, plus, he figured that he'd find out in a day or two anyway. He pulled out of Bobby's neighborhood, headed toward his own, but was soon driving without even thinking, it was almost as if the car was on auto-pilot, guiding itself to a destination unknown to Michael. - - - Michael's trance was broken when he felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. His car's engine was stopped, the car parked in Abby Park in the same 'cove' where he first met Bobby. The hand shook his shoulder once more, and a voice asked "Are you alright? Have you been taking any drugs or drinking?" Michael looked over and saw a man in a yellow Polo shirt and khaki pants standing next to his car. A gold detective's badge was clipped to his belt. "Have you been taking drugs or drinking?" he repeated. "No sir, nothing I haven't been doing anything like that," Michael finally answered. "I was just thinking. I was sort of lost in thought, that's all..." He started, but caught himself before going too far into his explanation. His gaze finally made it up to the face of the man by his car, and he recognized it. It was the man who he'd had to talk to after Paolo had put a copy of a video of the two of them having sex on the school's website. "Oh, sorry Detective Peters," he said. "Really, I was just sitting here thinking, that's all." "It's Mike, right?" the policeman asked, trying to be familiar, and not remembering that Michael preferred to be called by his proper first name. "Michael," he answered. "I prefer to be called Michael." The detective put both hands on the top of the car door, leaning over to talk to Michael. "So tell me then, Michael, what are you doing here?" This repeated question caused him to become defensive, and it was evident in his tone when he replied, "I told you already. I was just sitting here thinking. That isn't illegal yet is it?" Peters stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest and answered coldly, "No Michael, it isn't illegal. I just wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong." "Take my word, nothing's wrong," Michael retorted as he started the Mustang, giving it far more gas than necessary, revving up the powerful engine as he pressed in the clutch and shifted into reverse gear. He did keep the presence of mind not to peel out as he left the cove, thinking that if there was a police detective there, watching the park, surely there were other police nearby. And he didn't want to give them a reason to follow or pull him over. As he left the park, he realized that he had no recollection of what was going through his mind before the man had shaken him and brought him back to reality. His mind blanked again for a moment, and when he came back out of it, he realized that he was on I-26, headed west at an extremely high rate of speed. He looked down at the dash, and the speedometer read 110 MPH. 'I am going way too fast,' he thought, just before he heard the siren behind him. Michael glanced up at the mirror only for a moment, afraid to take his eyes off the road, and wondered how he had ended up here, and at the rate of speed at which he was traveling. There was not just one, but two state police cars behind him, red and blue light bars flashing a signal for him to stop. He knew what he needed to do, but his body wasn't responding like it was supposed to. He willed his foot to press down on the brake, but when he did, the car seemed to jump forward on its own. 'Why doesn't it stop?' Michael thought. 'I want the car to stop! Make it stop!' His mind didn't control the car though, and his body wasn't responding either. The car's speed climbed higher and higher. Michael glanced down at the dash. It read 130 miles per hour and climbing. Something had to make it stop... Just before everything went blank in his mind once more, he thought of Bobby, sitting on the edge of his bed as he'd left his room such a short time before. Bobby looked so sad. Then there was blackness, and a blinding white flash of light. - - - It was an odd feeling. Everything around Michael was white. It was not exactly quiet, but he could not identify the noise he was hearing. Was it music? It sounded good but not like any music he had heard. Then there was the scent. Like apple blossoms in sunlight. He seemed to be lying on his back on grass, but it was softer than any grass he had ever previously encountered. Paolo knelt above him, but as Michael looked up at him he seemed different than what he had been. There wasn't the arrogance and self-centeredness that he'd always known in the boy before. This was the first time Michael had ever seen Paolo with an expression about him that seemed caring, concerned about how someone else might feel. He'd heard that Paolo had stood up for Billy at the end, trying to protect him from the brothers in their cell at the juvenile detention facility, but that had seemed so out of character for him. It had been very difficult, nearly impossible, for Michael to believe. But now here was that same caring Paolo. 'Where is my car?' 'Where am I?' 'Wait!!! Isn't Paolo dead?' 'Am I dead?' All these thoughts flooded in at once. There was no sound, but still somehow Michael could hear Paolo's voice inside his head, even though his lips never moved to speak, and Michael heard made it seem as if Paolo had read his mind. "You aren't dead, Michael. You have a long life yet to live. Go back to the ones who love you, and please forgive me. I wanted to love you, but I didn't even know how to love myself." * * * Bobby was lying on his bed, still naked when Billy came bounding into his room. Bobby hadn't even pulled the covers back over him, and was curled up in a semi-fetal position facing away from the door. Billy's original intention when he came over to Bobby's house was to tell Bobby about his birthday presents and invite him to the party his parents were giving him, but when he saw Bobby lying nude on his bed, his idea quickly changed. Although Billy thought he was asleep when he entered the room and saw him, this wasn't the case. His idea was to jump on the bed to wake Bobby up, but since he wasn't really asleep, his planned failed more horribly than he could have imagined. In his excitement over his early birthday presents, Billy didn't ring the bell before entering the house, and since Bobby's bedroom door had been left open, Bobby didn't hear him approaching. Billy landing on the bed on his knees behind him was the first indication Bobby had that anyone else was in the house after Michael had left him, sitting on the edge of his bed. When Billy landed on his bed, Bobby jumped up and spun around in surprise. It wasn't intentional, but his quick motion knocked Billy back off his bed, the wind knocked out of him for a moment. Realizing what he had done, Bobby was worried that he'd hurt his friend and quickly knelt over him, checking to see if he was okay. Billy kept his eyes closed, playing up to Bobby's concern for a few moments until he caught he breath. Due to his concern about possibly having hurt Billy, Bobby was oblivious to Billy's play-acting. At least he was until Billy's hand reached up to grab him right between the legs, a fraction of a second before he sat up, laughing. Bobby was relieved that Billy hadn't really been hurt, but a little pissed that he'd put on an act and scared him, so he gave him a playful punch on the arm. The arm attached to the hand still holding his balls and dick. This caused a little movement that had the effect of beginning to stimulate Bobby toward arousal. The twitch in Bobby's penis, and slight but noticeable thickening was quite apparent to Bobby, and he giggled slightly. "You're horny!" he let out as he continued giggling. But he still didn't release Bobby's genitals. This did bring Bobby out of the funk that Michael had left him in, and he fell on Billy, running his hands up underneath his shirt to tickle him, causing Billy's laughter to continue even more. Bobby didn't even realize he was doing it, but as he rose up onto his knees, moving over to straddle Billy, the younger boy kicked off his shoes and pushed his pants down as far as he could - just about to his knees. Bobby's tickling had raised his shirt, so the majority of Billy's body was exposed already, but it was even more so when Billy lifted his torso slightly in order to pull his t-shirt off. It was this motion that brought Bobby into awareness that he was still naked, and now Billy was nearly so as well. Briefly, the thought of Michael leaving him sitting on the edge of his bed flashed through his mind. It was only a fleeting thought, as Bobby lowered himself on top of Billy, pressing their bodies together as he began to kiss the other boy. Billy responded twofold, he opened his mouth to accept the kiss and his dick sprang up, becoming hard nearly instantly, neither of which escaped Bobby's attention. A few moments later, after Bobby had moved back and quickly yanked Billy's pants off, they were on the bed together. Certainly this was more comfortable for them both, but more for Bobby as he was kneeling once again over Billy. This time however, his dick was completely hard and straining, and aimed at a specific target - Billy's mouth. Billy wasn't going to disappoint the older boy either; he opened his mouth, and took the head inside, swirling his tongue around the tip. He really liked Bobby, and was eager to please him. He brought his head forward, taking more of Bobby's shaft into his mouth. The head of Bobby's dick touched that part of Billy's throat that controlled his gag reflex just for a moment, and he almost lost it, but he adjusted the angle of his head and was able to take more of Bobby's cock into his mouth and throat. Bobby pulled back finally, making Billy feel a little better. He could deep-throat, the Booth twins had made sure he learned that, but it was also for that reason that he preferred not to do it. Bobby pulled completely back though, all the way out of Billy's mouth, and moved down, kissing and licking at Billy's chest and stomach until he reached the straining erection between Billy's legs. He quickly engulfed it with his mouth, taking all of it in - completely to the base. His nose rubbed in the few downy, blonde hairs that had sprouted in Billy's pubic region. Bobby opened his mouth a little farther and was able to suck Billy's balls into his mouth as well. This drove the younger boy wild, and he writhed in ecstasy beneath his older friend. Bobby didn't want him to get off too soon though, so he backed off, only keeping the tip of Billy's dick in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the head and ran it across the slit at the top. Billy was thrusting his hips up though, wanting more... Wanting to get off, Bobby decided to go ahead and let him cum, rather than prolonging it. Bobby dived down once more, taking the entirety of Billy's dick into his mouth once more. At the same time he moved his hand between Billy's legs and pressed a finger up into Billy's private little crevice, quickly reaching the little pucker located there. As soon as Bobby's finger touched his hole, Billy's hips bucked forward. It was almost a completely natural motion. Bobby kept going though - with both his mouth and his finger. He felt the warm spurts of Billy's juice fire into his throat, and the little ring of Billy's butt-hole tighten around his finger. Bobby swallowed quickly, even though Billy's offering didn't nearly fill his mouth. It had shot so far into his mouth that he barely tasted it at all. Bobby didn't pull his mouth off until well after he was sure that Billy was completely spent. His own dick was throbbing and needed relief. Billy seemed to sense this and spread his legs wide, as if in invitation to Bobby. Bobby didn't refuse the offering and slid forward, rubbing his dick into Billy's crack. He didn't go for penetration immediately, but played with his dick in Billy's crevice just a little at first. After a few moments, he could resist no longer and adjusted his position so that he could make his entry. Billy let out a sigh as Bobby's shaft sank into him. It felt so wrong, but at the same time it felt so right. Billy was well aware that Bobby and Michael were boyfriends, but there was something about Bobby that Billy couldn't explain even to himself. It had started as a good friendship - and after all, Bobby was the first friend Billy had made after he'd been released from the juvenile detention facility. Sure, he'd made other friends, but Bobby had been the first, and that made him more special somehow. Billy had also finally come to accept his sexuality. Not what the Booth twins had forced him to do, but now what he wanted to do. The problem was, he wanted to do it with Bobby. He knew Michael was going to be leaving for school after their summer break. He'd heard Bobby and Michael talking about that, although they weren't aware he had. From what he'd overheard, he knew that Michael thought they should end their relationship when he went off to school. What he didn't know was why Michael felt that way. He'd felt bad for Bobby when he'd overheard that conversation, but he didn't know how to bring it up to either of them, so he rationalized that what he was doing was just to make Bobby feel better, and to let Bobby know that he was going to be there for him when Michael did leave. Of course, getting a relationship started with Bobby now helped ensure that he would step in to take Michael's place when he did leave. Bobby started driving his dick into Billy with fervor, and Billy responded in kind. All the thoughts he'd been having about their relationship issues, and those of Bobby and Michael dissipated quickly. They were like two animals in heat, frantically working toward climax. At the rate they were going, working together in rhythm, it wasn't going to take very long. It ended up being longer than both thought possible, and about four minutes later, Bobby had the unmistakable feeling that indicated his orgasm was imminent. Seconds later his semen splashed out forcefully into Billy's bowels. As they pulled apart, Bobby noticed that Billy had dribbled out a second cum. "You squirted again," he giggled as he pointed to the watery-white liquid on Billy's stomach, and the little drops still oozing out from the tip of his dick. They were in the shower together cleaning up when Billy finally told Bobby about the party his parents were throwing for his birthday and invited him to come. "Of course I'll be there!" Bobby told him enthusiastically, and he meant it. He knew enough of Billy's history to be aware that this was going to be the first real birthday party the boy had ever had, and it would really make him feel bad to miss such an important occasion for his friend. He knew he was going to have to get him an extra special present. At the same time he wondered if Michael was going to be invited to the party. The three of them had not actually been together since the 'affair,' as Bobby thought of it, between he and Billy had started. Still, Billy had promised to keep their sexual activities just between the two of them. After they had dried off and dressed, Billy asked Bobby to come over and see the presents his new parents had gotten him for his birthday. Bobby was very curious what the mysterious presents were, but they had Billy very excited, whatever they were, so Bobby readily agreed to go across the street to see them. They paused on the porch long enough to sit down and put on their shoes, and when they got up, Billy grabbed Bobby's hand and literally pulled him along as they ran down the street to Billy's house. They didn't even notice Mr. Jacobson across the street in his front yard pulling weeds, but he noticed them. "Dirty little faggots," he muttered to himself as they ran past. The truck that had delivered the jet-skis was gone by the time they got there, but the construction work was in full-swing. Bobby assumed that the construction work was the present Billy had spoken off, but he was only half right. Billy pulled him in through the front door and shouted for his dad. "Mom, Dad! I brought Bobby over to see what you got me for my birthday!" He looked around the house for either of his parents, but they were nowhere to be seen. "Mom? Dad?" he called out again. Rosemary came out of the kitchen into the living room where Billy and Bobby were standing. Billy was still holding Bobby's hand tightly, not wanting to let go before he'd been able to show his friend his birthday presents. "I think your father had them put away in the garage," his mother told them, then watched as Billy pulled his friend away, leading him toward his coveted birthday treasure. When Billy got Bobby into the garage, Bobby was astounded at what he saw. The twin jet-skis were gleaming and beautiful. He was shocked by the extravagant gift. Not one, but two jet-skis. This was an amazing present, or presents. "Dad's having a dock with a lift put in on the water too," Billy told him excitedly. 'Well, that explains the construction,' Bobby thought. "Damn dude, this is fantastic!" he exclaimed. "I'm so happy for you!" It was only when he moved to give Billy a hug that Billy finally let go of his hand. They were still embracing when Billy's dad entered the garage. "Your mom told me you brought Bobby out here to see your present," he spoke up after a moment. The boys broke apart only once he had made his presence known. "He's the only one that gets a sneak preview of your present, right?" Stan added. "Yeah dad," Billy agreed, "he's gonna be the only one." He took note of their embrace, chalking it up to the good friendship that had developed between the boys since Billy had come to live with them. He looked at Bobby as a good influence on the boy, and was glad to see they had become such fast friends. "We're going back over to Bobby's to swim, okay Dad?" Billy asked his father. "Sure son, you two go and have a good time," Stan responded. He thought about asking why they didn't stay and use the pool in their own yard, since they were already there, but decided it must be the construction, and was sure they just didn't want to be around that. It was of course, only half the reason. Billy had hopes of having more of the sort of fun and games that he dared not tell his parents about. * * * Kyle and Joey ate in silence, but exchanged an occasional glance at one another as they had their breakfast. They both had an uneasy feeling that Kyle's father was more aware about what they had been doing together in Kyle's room than he wanted them to know. The way he'd acted and the things he'd said seemed to hint that he knew a lot more than he was letting on. Although they didn't talk about it, and neither boy wanted to, they both had a feeling that they needed to prepare for the inevitable questions Kyle's father was sure to pose sooner or later. Kyle suggested that they should go for a ride on their bikes as they were cleaning up after their breakfast. Joey downed the last of his glass of milk, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and nodded his agreement. They went to Kyle's room to put on shoes and socks before going out to hit the road on their bicycles. They decided to go to the park since it was such a nice day. There was a good chance of a pick-up football game or something that they could get in on or if all else failed, they could just lie out on the grass and get some sun. As they rode down the sidewalk between Kyle's neighborhood and the park, an old classic Mustang convertible sped past them. It had either been kept up very well or beautifully restored. Kyle looked over at Joey. "That guy is going to kill himself, or someone else," he commented. Joey grunted his agreement. He was sure that he recognized the car, but couldn't place where from. They watched as the car slid around a corner a few blocks down the street, fish-tailing as it made the turn. Both boys thought the car was going to wipe out, but the driver must have managed to get the car straightened out as the crash they expected to hear never came. All they did hear was the powerful engine racing away from them. A block farther down the road, Kyle led the way up a bike trail that was a shortcut into the park. As they rode along the trail, Kyle and Joey came parallel to cut off from the main paved road that wound through the park for a few minutes. It was a gravel service road that led to some of the maintenance buildings where the lawn mowers were kept, and the offices of the park workers were located. Kyle spotted the police cars first and pointed them out to Joey. There were four marked cruisers parked on the road, two officers in each. It was as if they were on a stakeout, or waiting for some signal. "Wonder what they're sitting back here for," Kyle commented. Joey knew the reputation one area of the large park had as a cruising spot, and he filled Kyle in. "They're probably doing some sort of a sting," he told Kyle. Joey had heard a few of the details about Alex's cousin Paolo getting busted in the park from Brandon and Alex. He only briefly mentioned Paolo's arrest and the reason for it. He couldn't go into any great detail though - after all, he didn't really know the entire story himself. For that matter, Alex and Brandon hadn't known the whole story either when they were telling him about what had happened. A couple minutes later, the trail they were riding on dead-ended into the main paved road that circled through the park. A black Crown Victoria with deeply tinted windows was parked by itself in one of the little parking 'coves' that were placed periodically along the park's main road. Joey caught Kyle's attention and nodded toward the car. With dull black wheels, wider than usual tires and four antennas sticking up from the roof and trunk, it was obvious that this was an unmarked police car. "They might as well have painted 'Police' on the side of that car, as obvious as it is," Joey commented. "No shit," Kyle agreed. They hopped their bikes over the curb, taking a shortcut across the grass on their way to an area of the park where there was a large, flat piece of ground that was perfect for playing ball. There were two make-shift football games already going on when they arrived, and that took up the majority of the flat ground. The players of both games were significantly older than Joey and Kyle, one group being mainly in their mid-twenties, and the other group slightly older, probably early thirties. They didn't figure either group would want a couple kids trying to join their game, so they dropped their bikes and just sat down in the grass to watch. There were a few other small groups of boys closer to their age on the outskirts of the field, some watching the games, others just sitting and talking. A few others still were tossing a football back and forth, waiting for one of the fields to clear so they could start their own game. - - - Kyle and Joey sat back in the grass, propped up on their elbows to watch the games. They had taken their shirts off in the warm afternoon sun. It soon became apparent that the game with the thirty-something year olds was the more boring of the two, so their attention stayed focused on the younger group of men. At least it did until a particularly bad pass from the game they'd been ignoring landed on the grass beside them. "Could you toss it back?" called one of the older men. Kyle grabbed the ball, and threw it back to the man, almost without effort. It was a perfect pass, and the man caught it easily. "Thanks!" he shouted back to Kyle. "That's a good arm you've got!" Joey admired Kyle's muscular torso when he got up to throw the ball back to the men. Kyle did not have the physique of a bodybuilder by any means, but he was certainly well toned. Joey felt a slight twitch in his pants as he watched his boyfriend's body. His penis had inflated slightly, and he felt it press gently against the cloth of his boxers. 'Shit,' he thought, 'I better try to keep that under control out here...' "Thanks," Kyle called back, waving as he sat back down on the grass next to Joey. The older group's game only lasted about fifteen more minutes before they called it quits, said their goodbyes and left the field. Even as they were still leaving the field, some of the boys around Kyle and Joey's age who had been tossing a ball around between them moved onto the field. Others started joining them, and quickly began choosing up sides for the game. Joey and Kyle both recognized some of the other boys from their respective schools and neighborhoods. "Want to see if we can join them for the game?" Kyle inquired. Joey smiled at him and nodded his head. They got up and trotted onto the field, tucking their shirts into their waistbands as they did. As they approached the little loose-knit groups of teen boys on the field, one of the boys from Kyle's school waved them over. "I thought that was you that threw the ball back into the old farts," he said, clasping Kyle's right hand in his own and placing the left on his shoulder. "You'll quarterback for us, right?" he asked. "Sure dude. I have a pretty good receiver with me too," he replied as he indicated Joey. "He comes with me as a package deal." "Sure, no problem," the other boy replied. "If you say he's good, that's all we need to hear." Unfortunately, Joey was only really a good receiver in bed. He didn't fare any better at catching the football during their game than he had the day he and Kyle had met. Of course, he hadn't been meant to catch the ball that day, but even if he were, he probably would have missed. Joey never had been very good at any sports. He didn't ever bring this up with Kyle though, as he was sort of ashamed since Kyle was so good at them. Even if he'd told Kyle how he felt it wouldn't have mattered to Kyle, as he really did like Joey just for himself. Their team was defeated soundly in the game, though the blame hardly fell on Joey's shoulders alone. Even with Kyle's outstanding skill as quarterback, they were simply outmatched by the other team. It was late afternoon when they headed back to Kyle's house. When they arrived and came in through the kitchen, they were immediately sent off to wash up for dinner, which Kyle's mother told them was almost ready. "You'd both better take a shower too," she admonished them as they left the kitchen, headed upstairs. "You're both all sweaty, and I don't want to eat dinner with two smelly boys at the table." Kyle smiled at his mother, grabbed a couple Sunny D's from the refrigerator for them and said "Not to worry mother dear, we'll be spring-time fresh next time you see us!" "Don't you mock me, Kyle Elias Praegler!" she scolded good-naturedly as she swatted his butt with a dishtowel on his way out of the kitchen. "Elias?" Joey kidded him as they went up the stairs. "You never told me your middle name was 'Elias'." "It's after my grandfather," Kyle explained, "and you better not tell anyone." "Blackmail helps you keep your secrets!" Joey said, reaching forward to goose Kyle's butt on the way up the final set of stairs to Kyle's room. "Keep your hands to yourself," Kyle said, grinning as he turned around at the top of the stairs. He closed the door behind them and drew Joey in for a kiss. There was no sign of his father in the house, but they weren't sure whether he was there or not, as they hadn't come in through the garage where he always parked the Expedition. Just to err on the side of caution, they decided it would be better to shower separately. When they had both finished their showers and gotten dressed, they made their way back downstairs for dinner. It was only now that Kyle finally asked where his father was. "Your father is at the club still, sweetie," his mother answered. "He had a late tee time today. He told me that he was going to have something to eat there, and then play cards with some of the other men. He probably won't be home until late." Kyle nodded that he understood, he was used to his father spending long hours at the club. He didn't like it, but he was used to it. It sometimes seemed to Kyle that his father preferred spending his time there rather than with his own family. He'd never become vocal about it, but instead just got quiet when it began to upset him. Joey took note of this, and decided that he would say something to Kyle about it later, when they were alone. His mother had made a casserole dish for them that evening, something that had all the meat and vegetables all rolled up into the same thing. And while it didn't look all that great, both boys agreed that it was both filling and very tasty. Joey made sure to tell Mrs. Praegler that he enjoyed the meal, and thanked her for fixing it for them. When they finished dinner, Kyle motioned for Joey to help him clear the plates. His mother thanked them for cleaning up after the meal, and went into the living room to sit down and watch the evening news. After they had carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen, Kyle rinsed them off and handed them to Joey to put into the washer. They cleaned up the cookware Kyle's mother had used to prepare the meal, and loaded that into the washer as well. Kyle packed the leftovers into plastic containers, and once they were deposited in the refrigerator the boys were free to enjoy themselves for the rest of the evening. They joined Kyle's mother in the living room where she was watching one of her favorite shows on TV, one that she referred to as a "Brit-Com" which was shown on the local PBS station every Saturday night. It was called "Keeping Up Appearances" and was about a lady who always tried to impress everyone as being very high-class, but really just made herself very annoying to everyone she knew. Joey had to admit that it was a very funny program. He and Kyle were sitting next to each other on a sofa while they watched, and laughed out loud at her antics, which Kyle explained to Joey always seemed to backfire on her. When that show was over, Kyle's mother changed the station over to Fox News. Neither of the boys was interested in that at all, so they decided to go up to Kyle's room to play some video games before it was time for bed. While Kyle was rummaging through his game collection, Joey decided that this was as good a time as any to bring up the troubled look he'd noticed on Kyle's face when his mother had told them that Mr. Praegler was staying at the club rather than coming home for dinner. "Kyle," he started, "I may be speaking out of turn, so if I am, just tell me to shut up. You looked, I don't know, like really disturbed when your mom said your dad wasn't coming home for dinner." "That's alright," Kyle replied. "You're right though. He spends so much time there, it seems like he doesn't want to be with us. It's like an excuse for him to be away from us." Joey didn't know what to say. But he'd brought the subject up, so he knew he had to say something. "I'm sure it's not that... I'm sure he loves you a lot." 'That sure sounded lame,' Joey thought as soon as the words left his lips. Kyle smiled at him though and came over to where Joey was sitting on the edge of his bed. He bent over and leaned in to give Joey a kiss. Kyle placed a hand on each side of Joey's face, and Joey wrapped both arms around Kyle. This caused Kyle to lose his balance and fall over, landing on top of Joey on the bed. They continued to kiss, getting more and more passionate about it with each passing second. When they finally broke apart, and Kyle rolled off to lie next to Joey on the bed, both boys couldn't help breaking out in a fit of giggles. "That was awesome!" Joey exclaimed. "Yeah, it was," Kyle agreed. "So what game do you want to play?" "This one," Joey said. Then he rolled over on top of Kyle and pushed his hands under Kyle's shirt to tickle him. * * * Doug leaned over to Kelly and whispered, "What do you think he said?" He was referring to what Jason Farmer had whispered to Melissa, his older sister when they'd met up on the street in from of Kelly's house. "I don't know," Kelly whispered back. She sure got a weird look on her face though, whatever it was." "I'd say 'shocked' is more like it," Doug answered. And he was right. Melissa Farmer had had a crush on Kelly for a long time, and both sets of parents knew it. They thought it was sort of cute, and joked privately about the possibility of the two getting married some day. They thought that Kelly would recognize her interest sooner or later, and eventually reciprocate, but he was quite oblivious to her affections. Besides, Kelly didn't feel the same way about her, although they were very good friends, and had been as long as they had known each other. He also knew that his friend Riley Jensen had the hots for her. Now her little brother had just told her that he'd seen the object of her affections having sex in the pool locker room with the boy on the bicycle next to him. He obviously hadn't had time to give her any details; she'd get that information out of him later, when they got home. For now though, she simply imagined the worst. Kelly's father had steaks and burgers on the grill already when they entered the backyard. The smell of the meat cooking made their mouths water in anticipation. Kelly's father knew someone who owned a farm fifty or so miles away, and would regularly buy half of a butchered cow from him to fill a freezer they had in their garage. The quality of the beef he got was always outstanding, and it seemed particularly promising this evening. Melissa's mother was the first to notice that her daughter was suddenly acting differently toward Kelly. She seemed rather cold and distant toward him, instead of hanging on his every word as she normally did. She also noticed that Kelly's new friend seemed especially close to him, and the looks he gave Kelly were very similar to those that her daughter had given him previously. 'No, surely I'm mistaken about that...' she thought. Kelly's mother picked up on the change in attitude too. She was curious why the girl that had chased after her son for so long abruptly seemed to be trying to avoid contact with him during their outing. She managed to pull Kelly aside to ask him about it. "I didn't do anything that I know of, I haven't even seen her lately until tonight," was his reply, and he was indeed in the dark about whatever it was that had her brooding. It had to be what her little brother had said to her when they'd all arrived at his house that evening, but Kelly had no idea what that could be. "Well, maybe you should pull her aside and talk to her about it," his mother advised. "You men aren't usually very good about doing that, and you'll never know what we women are thinking if you won't ask us." "Thanks mom," Kelly answered. "I'll do that." "That's good," his mother told him, smiling and ruffling his hair as she went into the kitchen to check on the corn-on-the-cob for their dinner. Somehow the opportunity just didn't seem to present itself for Kelly to talk to Melissa privately before dinner. She was staying very close to her little brother and didn't seem to want to leave his side - something else that was very unusual for both siblings. Kelly dropped a couple hints that he wanted to talk to her, but didn't say anything outright. Melissa either didn't get his hints, or she ignored them. He couldn't tell which. His mother noticed that he was at least taking her advice and trying, but she wished he would have just come right out and told the girl that he wanted to talk with her. He didn't do that, and finally gave up hinting just as his father was taking the meat off the grill. He decided to wait until after they'd eaten before trying again. During the meal, Kelly and Doug stuck close together. "You've been hard to talk to since we got back from riding our bikes," Doug commented once they were finally off by themselves. "Yeah," Kelly replied. "I'm sorry, but my mom thinks I need to try to find out what's bothering Melissa, but I'll wait until after we eat to try again. I really didn't mean for it to seem like I was ignoring you." Doug looked at him and smiled. "That's okay, I understand," Doug told him. And he did, but he wished it did require him being fairly excluded from being able to socialize with Kelly, as he really didn't know anyone else there. Jason, Melissa's little brother had visited with him briefly, but he couldn't find that much commonality with a nine year old to inspire conversation. Mostly their conversation had been limited to Jason asking how long he'd known Kelly, where he went to school, where he and Kelly had met, and other things like that. It was almost as if he were being interrogated. He had thought briefly about asking Jason what he'd told his sister, but didn't work up the nerve. Perhaps after they'd eaten and Kelly tried to find out from Melissa what the problem was he could try to strike up another conversation with her brother. - - - Melissa and Jason sat with each other as they ate, talking quietly and sometimes glancing over to where Kelly and Doug were sitting. As soon as they'd finished and disposed of the paper plates from which they had consumed their meals, Melissa excused them both from the evening's events, explaining to the adults that she had to work on a science project, and she was going to need a second pair of hands, so she had enlisted Jason's assistance. "You never mentioned any project you were working on," her father commented. "Well, it's not like due any day or anything, I just want to get an early start, as I know I have some other assignments coming up soon and I don't want to but stuck working on them at the same time," she replied. "Come on Jase," she said, turning to her little brother, putting her arm on his shoulder to lead him out of the backyard. "Thanks for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker," she said, smiling to Kelly's parents as they made their exit. "Everything really was fantastic, like always." 'Damn,' Kelly thought as he watched them leave. 'There goes my chance to find out what's going on.' 'Thank God,' Doug thought as he watched them go. 'Now I don't have to share Kelly with her for the rest of the evening.' - - - As soon as they'd reached the street, Melissa spoke to her little brother in a commanding tone, "Okay little brother, spill it. What exactly did you see them doing?" Jason looked around, as if to make sure they weren't being followed before telling his sister the entire sordid story of what he'd seen Kelly and the other boy doing in the locker room. It took more than just the short walk down the street to their house for him to tell the entire story to her, and every so often she would interrupt with a question. He left out the part about going into the whirlpool and sauna naked with his two friends though - he didn't want his sister getting the wrong idea about that, especially after the story he'd just finished relating to her. Melissa was slightly relieved to hear that Kelly had not been on the 'receiving' end of things, still - he had been having sex with another boy. She wasn't sure she could reconcile that in her mind. Gay sex was wrong - it said so in the Bible, and she'd been taught that her entire life. The preacher at the church she and her family attended had often been very vocal on the subject, and it was certainly one of her core beliefs as unlike her little brother, she listened to what he was saying. She would pray about it, she decided. * * * Steven's father woke up before either of the boys in the morning. He didn't intend to stay up, but the pounding in his head was desperately begging for aspirin. As he passed his son's room, he glanced in through the open door. Steven and Carson were still propped up against the headboard, Carson's arm around Steven and Steven's head resting on his shoulder. Being on top of the covers, Steven's father was able to tell even in the dim light of the dawn and the fog and throbbing ache plaguing his head that they were wearing nothing but their boxers. A single thought flashed briefly through his head as he continued to the kitchen for his aspirin - 'Better than walking in on them like Janet did, I suppose.' If his head had been clearer, he might have seen the sweet, semi-romantic nature the scene presented, but his thoughts were focused primarily on getting some relief for the pounding in his head. Reaching the kitchen, he tossed some aspirin in his mouth, and after a moment's consideration poured a shot of vodka from a bottle on the kitchen counter into a glass and used it to wash down the medication. 'A little hair of the dog will help clear my head that much faster,' he thought. While it did seem to be helpful, all it really did for him was reactivate some of the residual alcohol left in his system. But for him, this resulted in not feeling so poorly for the moment. The alcohol not having really having helped to clear his head so much as just relieve the throbbing he felt, he neglected to replace the cap on either the aspirin or the vodka bottle. After he set the glass down on the counter, he turned and walked back to his bedroom. He didn't even stop to consider that he was still fully dressed, save for his shoes. - - - It was a short time after his father had made his trip to the kitchen when Steven woke up. He had slept the entire night with his head on Carson's shoulder, and had a terrible crick in his neck as a result. He gently eased himself out of bed so he wouldn't disturb Carson and padded his way quietly down the hall to check on his father. He looked in the door, which was partially closed now rather than fully open the way they'd left it after putting him into bed. His father was still snoring, though not so loudly as just after they'd put him to bed, so Steven knew that he was still alright. Having checked on his father, Steven turned and went back the other way down the hall, heading toward the kitchen. His neck was demanding attention to relieve the stiffness after the odd position he'd slept in. Carson was still asleep as he went back by his door, but he'd slid down onto the bed now, rather than still being propped against the headboard. He'd rolled over onto his side, and his sliding down across the mattress had caused his boxers to push up, giving Steven a nearly 'full moon' shot of his ass in his current position. Steven smiled, thinking how cute the blonde boy looked lying there like that, in addition to having a couple impure thoughts about the view he had of his boyfriend's cute little butt. 'Good thing I'm not Catholic,' he thought, 'I'd sure have to go to confession now.' Immediately when he walked into the kitchen, Steven spotted the open aspirin and vodka bottles on the counter where his father had left them. Rage flooded through him as he realized that his father must have awakened sometime during the night and washed down some of the medicine with the alcohol. He grabbed the bottle and tipped it up, emptying its contents into the sink. Once finished with that one, he emptied all the other alcohol his father had either in the refrigerator or the liquor cabinet into the sink. In his fury, he had forgotten all about the pain in his neck until after he was surveying the fruits of his labor spread out across the kitchen counter. There were several beer bottles, a couple wine bottles and six bottles that had contained various types of liquors - all now emptied into the sink. As he moved his head, looking at the 'damage' he had done a sharp pain in his neck reminded him why he had come down to the kitchen to begin with. Grabbing the bottle of aspirin from the counter, he shook out a couple tablets, and then poured a glass of water with which to wash them down. He was about to go back upstairs when Carson came into the kitchen, still clad only in his boxers and scratching his head. He surveyed the counter top, looking at all the empty bottles. "Did someone have a party in here or what?" he asked. "Not really," Steven answered. "I had a crick in my neck from the way we fell asleep last night so I came down to get an aspirin. Apparently my dad got up sometime during the night to get one too, although for a slightly different reason." "So what's with all the bottles then?" Carson prodded. "Well, he left the aspirin bottle open on the counter right next to the open vodka bottle he used to wash it down," he explained. "Oh wow," Carson sighed. "That sucks, dude." "Yeah," Steven agreed. "So anyway, I just sort of lost it and dumped out all the booze he had in the house." "Dude, your dad is probably going to be really pissed." When Carson said this, he thought it was probably going to turn out to be an understatement. He knew that a couple of the now empty liquor bottles had been very expensive. A moment of silence followed. Steven was giving some thought to the truth in what Carson had just said. Carson glanced over at the clock on the microwave. Its digital readout indicated 9:15. "Dude, didn't you say your dad had to go to his office today?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Yeah, he does," Steven answered. "Why?" "Because it's already after nine, dude. What time does he have to be there?" "SHIT!" Steven exclaimed. "You have so got to help me. Get some coffee going, and see if you can fix something for breakfast. I'm going to go try to get him up and into the shower." "Okay," Carson agreed. He was happy to try to help his boyfriend out. "What do you want me to do with all these bottles?" he asked. "Just stash them for now," Steven told him. "I'm going to have to deal with the consequences of that sooner or later, but I think I have a plan." Carson just shrugged and turned to make a pot of coffee as Steven headed back upstairs to wake his father. Steven got his father up and into the shower, but only with considerable effort. By the time he was done with that, and his father had come downstairs, there were bacon and eggs fresh from the griddle waiting for him on a plate. Carson poured him a cup of coffee, which he tried to ignore in favor of a glass of juice, but he finally drank it down once it was nearly cold. - - - It was mid afternoon, and Steven and Carson were sitting on the sofa in Steven's living room. It had been a real chore for them to get Steven's father off to his office that morning, but they'd finally managed it. Fortunately, he was just going in to catch up on some project he was working on, and no one else was going to be around. Steven was sure he could smell the alcohol seeping out of his father's pores from all the scotch he'd consumed the night before. Once they had gotten his father off to the office, they tried to figure out what to do about the decimated liquor cabinet. Steven had Carson help him carry all the bottles into the living room, where they set them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Carson had asked Steven what his plan was, but Steven hadn't wanted to say. They had spent most of the time since Steven's father left them there in silence, Steven staring at the bottles, and Carson trying desperately to think of something that he could do to help. They hadn't even showered yet, and were still just in their boxers. "So look," Carson spoke up. "You said you thought you had a plan, why won't you just tell me. Dude, I love you, and I want to help." "I know," Steven shrugged. "It just seems so stupid now." "Just tell me," Carson prodded. "Well, I was just thinking, maybe we could act like we drank it all..." "Dude, that would never work," Carson interrupted. "Yeah, I know," Steven admitted. "I figured that out already, there's no way we could have drank all that. We'd be fucking dead from alcohol poisoning." "We could call some friends over?" Carson suggested, trying against all hope to make Steven think his idea had some merit. "No, that won't work. We could never pull that off. Besides, I'm embarrassed enough that you have to know about how much my dad's been drinking. I'm not about to make it general knowledge on top of everything else." "We could ask my mom to help," Carson suggested. "After all, she already knows..." "You mean like one of those intervention things?" Steven asked. "Yeah, I guess so," Carson replied after a moment of thought. Carson reached over to an end table and grabbed a cordless phone. He dialed his house and soon had enlisted her cooperation. She said she would be on her way over in a few minutes. When Carson told Steven she had agreed to help, Steven got up and extended his hand to Carson. "Come on then babe. We'd better grab a shower before she gets here." * * * Marco and Grace Santori had been gone from the MacMillan's house only about five minutes when Brandon's father decided that it was safe to bring up the subject he and his wife wanted to talk to the boys about. First he nodded to her, indicating that he was ready to start, and once he had, she left momentarily. It was so she could retrieve a bag from a shelf on their bedroom closet. Once she had excused herself from the group, Brandon and Alex seemed to think this was their cue to make their departure as well. However, as they started to get up to leave, Brandon's father motioned for them to sit back down. "Don't go anywhere just yet boys, there's something we need to talk about," he told them as he waved them back into their seats. Brandon and Alex exchanged glances, not sure what was going on. They agreed on one thing, though silently communicating only with their eyes, as they often did. Mr. MacMillan's tone had sounded ominous to them both. "What's up Dad?" Brandon finally spoke after a moment of silence. "Wait until your mother gets back," he answered. "She's the one who was the most upset by what she found, so I'm going to let her start. Don't think for a minute that I wasn't upset by it myself though." Once more, the boys exchanged glances. They were far more nervous now, and they both knew they were in some sort of real trouble. They kept glancing back and forth between each other and Brandon's father, who sat across from them on the sofa, looking back at them both with a perfect poker face. Finally Brandon's mother returned. She was carrying a paper bag, but that didn't give either of them any hint what it was that they might have done. Once she had taken a seat next to Brandon's father, directly across from the chairs where the boys were seated, she gave them both a look - it was one of those 'mother' looks. It was the sort of look that instantly instills guilt or fear, and makes you feel bad. But she didn't speak - she just looked at them. Brandon finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Okay Mom, we give up. What did we do?" It was only now that her expression changed to one that showed that she was deeply troubled by something. Gradually she regained her composure, and once she finally had, she answered. "Well boys, I was cleaning the house, and I found something. I have to tell you I was really shocked when I found these things." Neither Brandon nor Alex could still figure out what she was referring to, and once more they exchanged glances, trying to somehow tap into each other's mind in an attempt to divine the answer. Nothing came to them still. Finally Alex spoke. "Um, I'm sorry if whatever we did bothered you, but, um, can we ask what was it, please, Mrs. MacMillan?" Silently, she opened the bag and reached inside. As she pulled her hand back out of it, the first thing that came into view was some thin, cotton cloth. There was obviously something inside though. Even before they were able to tell what was inside, they both recognized the pattern of Brandon's boxers that they hadn't been able to find after that last sleepover. Brandon's mother loosened her grip, letting the object inside fall from the cloth she was using to hold it and onto the table. The sound of hard plastic balls bouncing as they hit the glass tabletop was the only noise in the house. When Brandon and Alex saw what she had been holding inside the cloth, both their mouths dropped open. 'Oh my god!!!' they both thought at exactly the same moment, 'The beads!' It dawned on them only now that they hadn't been there when they had packed up Paolo's toys into the backpack. Neither boy could believe something like that had escaped their notice. Now Brandon's mother had found them. Both boys flushed deep red in embarrassment. Brad MacMillan had to stifle a grin when he saw the boys' reaction. He had to try to outwardly remain properly horrified to support his wife, even though they both knew the boys were sexually active, this development had her pretty disturbed. "Where exactly did this come from?" Patricia MacMillan asked. She was concerned that the boys may have met up with someone older, and possibly even done 'things' with him - or worse, them. "Have you two been doing any, um, messing around with someone older?" "No Mom! Honest, we haven't done anything like that!" Brandon exclaimed. "Then where did this come from?" she asked. "You two aren't old enough to go into a store that sells something like this. Or did you find some place that would sell trash like this to minors?" "No, Mom. It's nothing like that. Really," Brandon answered. It wasn't the response she was looking for though. She wanted an immediate explanation, and in her mind he was just trying to stall, which in fact he was. Alex finally spoke up. "They were my cousin Paolo's," he said. "I found a bag of his, uh, his stuff after he got killed." "And you just thought it would be a good idea to keep it?" Brandon's father finally weighed in. "Yeah, I guess - you know how my family feels about this kind of stuff and I just didn't want..." Alex started, but Brandon's father cut him off. "That's exactly why I would have thought you wouldn't have kept it," Brad MacMillan scolded his son's boyfriend. "Can you imagine what sort of trouble you'd be in for if you got caught with this?" "But my cousin's reputation..." Alex tried to argue, only to have Brad cut him off again. "Was already ruined, and since he'd passed on, there wasn't any more damage that could have been done anyway. Now was there?" Alex hung his head for a moment. "I guess not," he admitted meekly. It was Brandon's mother's turn again - "Do you have any more of these... things?" she asked. "Yes ma'am," Alex told her. "They're in Paolo's backpack at the back of my closet under a bunch of other stuff." "Well I think you'd better get them and bring them over here for us to get rid of for you," Brandon's father told him, and Alex, used to doing what he was told, when he was told to do it, got up and started across the room toward the front door. "Not now," Brad stopped him, "tomorrow." The conversation had gone better and far more quickly than either Brad or Patricia MacMillan had hoped for. For the boys it had seemed to go on forever, but now they were given a reprieve as Brandon's father sent them off to bed with the admonition not to get into any mischief. The boys gladly nodded their agreement and made their way to Brandon's room to get ready for bed. Their interpretation of 'not getting into mischief' did not mean that they could not or should not sleep in the nude though, so they climbed into bed naked and snuggled up together for the night. Brandon lay behind Alex, with his arms wrapped around his boyfriend. He lifted his head for a moment so he could give Alex a gentle kiss on the cheek before wishing him good night. * * * Michael's eyes opened. He was in a bright white room, and wondered if this was a continuation of the dream, or whatever it was that had happened. All he remembered was getting into his car at Bobby's house, a blinding flash of light, and then Paolo. 'How could I have seen Paolo though? He's been dead for months...' Michael thought. "Doctor, he's waking up," he heard a voice say. Michael couldn't tell where he was, but he knew there were people in the room with him from the voices and the blurred images he could see moving around. He tried to move his head, but he couldn't. There seemed to be something holding it in place. He tried to move his arms and legs, and they all seemed to work. His vision was fuzzy and blurred, but he sensed movement, and then a bright light moving back and forth from one eye to the other. A new voice asked him if he was able to see the light. He was able to, and tried to answer but wasn't able at first. His mouth was dry and it seemed as if his tongue was swollen. Finally after a few attempts he managed to make it clear that he needed some water. Another image came up next to him, and then there was a straw nudging at his lips. He sipped at the straw, and drew cool water into his mouth. Finally able to speak, he gasped out "I can't see. Why can't I see?" He felt a hand on his shoulder, and a man's voice answered. "You've been in a bad accident, Michael. Just try to lie still. My name is Dr. Bloomfield, and we're doing everything we can for you. Tell me, can you see anything at all?" "Sort of," Michael answered, "there are images and shapes, but everything is all blurred and I can't really make anything out. "Concentrate on the light, Michael," the doctor advised. "Try to follow it with your eyes." Michael did as he was told, and the doctor made a few 'mm hmm' noises that sounded to Michael as if he was satisfied with what he was seeing. Finally he spoke again. "Michael, I think you're going to be alright, but I really need to have some more tests run, and we'll probably have to have a specialist look at you. Your parents are waiting to see you though, so I'm going to let them know you're okay, and then I'll send them back to see you." "Thanks," was all Michael was able to say. He was scared. He was starting to remember more brief flashes of things that had happened after he left Bobby's house, but they were just quick images that passed before his mind. There was Detective Peters in the park, his car sliding around a corner, driving down the interstate, and finally the light. Then there was Paolo. Paolo had been saying something to him, but he couldn't remember now what it was. - - - New images moved up on each side of him. Michael's vision was clearing slightly, and it seemed as if these new forms that had stepped up beside him were developing into his parents. His mother and father each clasped one of his hands in both of their own. Michael's hearing was working overtime, and he could hear his mother, sobbing gently. Had he been able to see clearly, he would have noticed a tear running down each of his father's cheeks. His mother spoke first. "Michael, we're here for you, and you're going to be alright." He felt his father squeeze his hand. He didn't have any trouble at all recognizing his father's grip, and even though his father didn't speak at first, it was comforting to Michael to know that he was there, holding his hand. "Don't worry, son," his father finally spoke. "We aren't going to let anything happen to you. You'll be okay, I promise." It took a conscious effort, but Michael managed to smile, much to the relief of both of his parents. Gradually his vision cleared, and he was finally able to make out his surroundings. He knew he was in a hospital; he'd been able to figure that much out already. Now he was able to see that he was in a large room, partitioned off with curtains. He could hear other people nearby moaning, doctors and nurses talking excitedly, and the humming and beeping of medical equipment. Once everything had finally come into focus, Michael spoke to his parents. "What happened? Where am I?" "You were in an accident, dear," his mother answered. "You're going to be alright though, that's all that matters. Just rest for now, that's what the doctor said will be best for you." One of the last images in his mind was Bobby, but the specifics of what they were doing and where wasn't clear to him. Suddenly he panicked; worried that Bobby may have been hurt too. He heard one of the machines close to him start to beep furiously as his heart rate increased, but still he asked, "Bobby? Where is Bobby? Is Bobby okay?" "Bobby wasn't with you, son," his father answered. "Don't worry, Bobby is fine." "Where is he?" Michael asked. He needed to see him, to hear his voice, to be sure that he was in fact okay. "We don't know where he is, sweetheart," his mother answered. "You were alone in the car when the accident happened." "My car? What happened to my car?" Michael asked. "Don't worry about the car son," his father replied. "All that's important is that you weren't hurt too badly in the accident. Cars can easily be replaced, but you can't." "I need to see Bobby," Michael insisted. The machine next to him continued to beep furiously, letting the medical staff know about his elevated heart rate. A nurse pulled one of the curtains aside. "I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Price," she said. "I'm afraid we're going to need you to step out now. The doctor is concerned that he's getting too excited right now." Michael's mother leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, and his father squeezed his hand reassuringly. Then they both turned and stepped out. Just before his father drew the privacy curtain closed, he turned back and said, "Don't worry son, we're right outside, and we aren't going anywhere." Michael's last words to his father were "Bobby, I have to see him. Please." - - - "Maybe I should call Bobby," Michelle Price suggested to her husband as they stood together in the waiting room. "Michael seemed so upset." "You're probably right dear," James replied. "Besides, I think he'd want to know what's happening." Michelle had Michael's cell phone, as well as the rest of his personal effects, so she used the speed dial on it to call Bobby since she didn't know his phone number. "Hey sweetie!" he answered, thinking it was Michael when he saw the caller ID. "Well, thank you Bobby, but this is Michael's mother," she responded. Bobby was surprised that Michael's mother would be calling from his cell phone, but the reason became clear a moment later. "Michael has been in an accident. He's going to be alright, but he's still in the emergency room. He's asking for you Bobby; he says he needs to see you." * * * Comments and feedback are welcomed at t_macd@comcast.net (I will answer all e-mails sent to me, but please realize that my job requires me to travel a great deal, so it might take a while sometimes), flamers will be ignored by me, but will meet with an untimely and horrible demise as the result of the curse of the old gypsy woman who lives across the lake from me, and has inexplicably taken a liking to me. Anger her at your own risk. If you would like to be notified by e-mail when new chapters of my stories are posted, let me know, and I will add you to my notification list.