Date: Wed, 19 Aug 2009 23:18:20 EDT From: Bwstories8@aol.com Subject: Castaway Hotel: Grand Reopening - Book 2, chapters 11 & 12 Castaway Hotel -- Grand Reopening -- Book 2 by BW Copyright 2009 by billwstories Chapter 11 -- Many Issues to Deal With. **Author's Note:** Please read the disclaimer in Chapter 00 before you read this. The next morning, there was still considerable tension between Dustin and Kevin, but I could see they were constantly checking what the other was doing, whenever they thought that person wasn't looking. Trey coyly watched them both and went about his morning in total silence, although you could still read the concern on his face. Danny cornered me in the kitchen when I went back to get my second cup of coffee and asked if we could go to the office to talk. I agreed and we were soon alone behind a locked door. "Dad, Pat decided to go further last night. I was a little surprised he was willing to move on to other things so quickly, but I think he's mostly trying to prove some things to himself from all of this. I'm not sure what it is, but I can tell that there's something more to this than just getting some enjoyment and relief. I wanted to talk to you about this last night, but I heard the argument between Kevin and Dustin and knew you probably had more important things to deal with." "You were right," I agreed. "The other boys did need me last night, especially Kevin, but I think that will soon blow over. So what happened with Pat?" Danny began explaining to me about his time with Pat the previous evening. The two boys went to use my bathroom together, as they had been doing for a few nights now, since Pat wanted to shower together again. Danny said he figured Pat might be up for another jack off session, but that wasn't quite what Pat had in mind. Pat suggested they wash each other first and Danny agreed that would be fine with him. As they took turns washing each other's body, they were also managing to fondle every square inch of flesh, when Pat suddenly asked Danny if he'd ever had another guy's dick in his mouth. Once Danny overcame his shock at the bluntness of the question, Danny said he had and Pat confided that he had too. Pat went on to explain that his mother's boyfriend had made him do that as well, but would never return the favor to Pat. Pat said he tried to fight him and get out of doing it sometimes, but would usually just end up giving in, because it wasn't as bad as what would happen if he didn't. Danny tried to find out what Pat meant by that comment, but Pat suddenly looked horrified that he had already disclosed too much and clammed up. After their little discussion ended, the boys finished washing each other, before Pat got up the courage to share the rest of this information with Danny. Pat explained that if he refused to give his mother's boyfriend a blowjob, the guy would force himself on Patrick anally. Pat quickly assured Danny that he never enjoyed it and that it usually hurt like hell, so Danny attempted to console Pat about what had happened to him. However, that's when Patrick surprised Danny with his next comment. Pat confided that he often wondered what the guy felt when he sucked him off and figured it must have been pretty good, because the guy wanted it done to him so often. Pat then asked Danny if he would suck him off, so he could find out why that guy had enjoyed it so much. Danny agreed to do this for him, so he bent down and took Pat's tool into his mouth. Patrick was already rock hard when he got into position, so Danny began to kiss and lick the head of Pat's penis, before he ran his tongue up and down the length of his rod. After finishing that activity, Danny moved lower and took Pat's 'nads into his mouth, one at a time, and sucked on them tenderly, while bathing them with his copious salivary juices. Patrick started to get weak-kneed again, which caused Danny to move him slightly, so he was able to lean back against the shower wall and stay propped up between Danny and the tile. Soon, Danny finished the preliminaries and engulf Pat's entire rod in his mouth and throat, taking him all the way down to his pubes. Patrick gasped as Danny's hot mouth surrounded his meat, as he felt a pleasure that was previously unknown to him. Danny began a slow, steady, bobbing motion on Pat's lance, letting his tongue and lips stimulate every fraction of it within his reach. Pat was moaning quite loudly at this point and began to instinctively thrust his hips in and out of Danny's mouth. Danny decided that he better bring him off as quickly as he could, before Pat tried to ram his penis through the back of his head. Applying maximum suction on Patrick's boner, as it slid hectically to and fro, it only took a couple of dozen strokes before Patrick's body went rigid, his tool swelled, his nuts drew toward his body, his back arched and his penis was thrust deeply into Danny's mouth. It stayed embedded there, while his hot, creamy production gushed forth and coated Danny's oral lining. Danny continued to suck and drain his hose, while Pat yelped and whimpered in delight above him. Danny felt Patrick's body begin to slump forward, so he reached up with his arms and helped support his weight, so he wouldn't collapse and hurt himself. Once Danny completed his ministrations on Pat's groin, he stood up and held his brother tightly to his own body, clinging to him until he could stand unaided again. Even then Danny continued to hold onto him, to let him know he had also enjoyed what they had just done. Pat's head was swimming, as he came down from his post-orgasmic bliss, because he had been totally overwhelmed by the intensity of his climax. It had been the most powerful he had ever experienced. He now wrapped his arms around his partner and squeezed the air from Danny's lungs, with this sudden bone-crushing embrace. "That was absolutely wonderful," he told his struggling partner. "Now I know why that guy wanted me to do it to him all of the time. I don't agree with how he got what he wanted, but now I know WHY he wanted it. Thanks, Danny, you were just great." Danny broke free of the bear hug and gasped to refill his lungs with air. When Pat saw what Danny was doing, the realization of what he had done began to hit home. "Damn, I'm sorry, Danny. I was just so happy, but I didn't mean to hurt you." "You didn't hurt me," Danny gasped out, "you just made it a little tough for me to breathe. I'm fine, though, and I'm glad you enjoyed it." "Enjoyed it? I loved it," Pat enthused. "Thanks, man, that was incredible, but now it's my turn to do it for you." "You don't have to, Pat," Danny told him, especially after hearing what had happened to him in the past. "I know you never enjoyed doing it with that other guy, so you don't have to do it now, just because you think you need to pay me back." "No, Danny, I only hated it because he MADE me do it and didn't give me a choice," Pat explained. "This isn't the same thing. This time I WANT to do it. That's the difference. Right now I want to give you the same pleasure you gave me, and I don't look at it as sick or perverted, as I did when he forced me to do it to him. Now, it's just my way of saying thank you and letting you know that I think you're really special. Please, Danny, just let me do this for you." "Hey, I won't argue with you if you really want to do it," Danny conceded, "but I just wanted you to know that you didn't HAVE to do anything." "Thanks and that makes a whole world of difference," Pat confessed, "but this time I want to, so are you ready?" "Oh boy, am I!" Danny exclaimed, looking forward to his own climax. With a definite purpose and urgency to his actions, Pat knelt down in front of Danny and stroked his semi-hard penis into a full-blown erection. He stuck his tongue out as he began to play with Danny's helmet and teased his slit. Pat manipulated Danny's ball bag with his fingers, but never approached this area with his mouth. Danny wasn't certain as to why he never did, but it just never happened. Instead, Patrick slid his lips over Danny's dickhead and slowly slid down his shaft. He was nearly two-thirds of the way down the length of his two-by-four, when his gag reflex took over and forced him to pull back a bit. Danny immediately assured him he didn't have to take the whole thing into his throat and could use his hand to stimulate the lower part, if that was easier. Pat quickly informed Danny he never let himself be forced to take more than just a inch or two for his mother's boyfriend, because he hated it and wasn't going to give that guy any more pleasure than he absolutely had to. However, he now admitted to Danny that he really wanted to try to take all of him, but Danny warned him that might not be possible at this point. Danny went on to explain that in time, and with practice, he might be able to do it, but for right now he should just do what he was comfortable with. Happily, Pat went back to work on Danny's love mast and slid up and down on it, like a kid trying to climb a greased pole. Soon he had Danny panting and then took him over the edge. As his orgasm approached, Danny began to thrust his pelvis forward, but not deeply into Pat's throat, until he filled Patrick's gullet with his male-milk. Spurt after spurt of that rich, creamy liquid slid down Pat's digestive tube and he sucked greedily on this boy-teat, until he had extracted every drop of Danny's seed. Weary from the effort, they broke apart and Pat sat on the floor of the shower stall. Within seconds, Danny bent down and took Pat in his arms and caressed him and thanked him for what he had done. Both boys smiled at each other and hugged again before they got up, rinsed off and stepped out of the shower to dry. Before they left the room, however, Danny took a chance and gave Pat a quick kiss. It wasn't the opened mouthed, tongue swallowing variety, but it was more than just the peck on the lips that you'd give your mother or your aunt. Pat smiled, but blushed, and they each went to their own room for the rest of the evening. After Danny told me this story, he left and finished getting ready, while I went up to my room to do the same. I was amazed by what Danny had just told me. That was quite some turn of events for a boy who was angrily calling everyone 'homos' not that long ago. Once the boys were ready, I took them to school. When I dropped the group off at the high school, I noticed that Kevin still looked pretty depressed and Dustin still appeared upset. I guess a good night's sleep, if that's what they got, didn't help very much. I hoped things might settle down by dinnertime, but I wasn't sure. That wasn't the only thing on my mind, though. Next Monday was also Cole's birthday and I was planning a party for him on Sunday and doing this, while still being able to keep it a secret, was very difficult. I think Cole was beginning to believe we'd all forgotten about his birthday and he became moodier as his special day drew near. I felt bad that he was taking it this way, but I knew if we could hold off until then, the surprise would more than make up for any depression or feeling of rejection he might be experiencing now. Of course, the rest of the boys knew about my plans and had also arranged for Brandon and Jay to come over and spend the night on Saturday, so they'd be there for the party on Sunday. I didn't think their being there would make him suspicious, as they stayed over quite often, and I wanted to pull this off for him. Cole told me sometime after he had come to live with us that he couldn't remember ever having a birthday party, except for those at school, so I knew there was no way he'd ever had a surprise party either. Realizing the thrill he would feel when everyone shouted 'surprise,' caused me to be as excited about this little bash as any of the boys. However, I didn't have any more time to consider this now, as I had to shift my attention to running my school. I was currently dealing with a major glitch in our public address system, which we'd been trying to correct for some time, but the major obstacle was that the system was old. At present, it was working poorly and the messages kept coming out garbled, like you were speaking underwater. However, there was no money in the budget to replace it until next year, so we'd had several different members of the custodial staff trying to repair it, but none of their attempts brought any lasting results. That's why, when a page come for me over the intercom, I knew it meant there must be a problem. None of the faculty or staff liked to use the intercom while we were experiencing these difficulties and resorted to utilizing it only for emergencies. It was the middle of the day and the older children in my school were at lunch. I was going over some reports in my office, when a page came for me over the intercom. However, I could barely even make out my name. "Mr. C… e?" "Yes." "Could… come… Cafeteria? Cole… caught… mas… ate… and … hit… aide… head." "He did what?" I nearly screamed, in response. The person on the other end repeated the message, but it was more garbled than before. "I'll be right there," I informed them, hoping they were able to understand me better than I had understood them. I rushed down to the cafeteria, where I quickly found two of the teacher's aides standing beside Cole, one on either side, and he was looking very sheepish. "Jo Ann and Terry, would you please step out here into the hall with me, so we can discuss this. Due to the problems with the PA system, I'm not sure I understood what you were saying." As they started to move toward me, I added, "Cole don't you dare move from that spot." The three of us walked out into the corridor and I turned to the aides. "I'm not sure I understood what you were trying to tell me. You know how the intercom is." "I hope you're not going to pull the typical parent thing and try to protect Cole, just because he's your son," Jo Ann said. "He can't get out of this one. I saw him do it." "Do what? I couldn't understand what you were saying," I repeated. "We said that Cole was caught slinging mashed potatoes in the lunchroom and hit Terry, the other aide on duty, in the back of the head." I immediately started laughing, but then fought hard to control my outburst. "You think that's funny?" Terry shot back, as they both gave me the most disgusted look they could manage at the time. "No, I don't," I apologized, "but I'm relieved it wasn't what I first thought you said he did." "Why, what did you think we said?" Jo Ann wanted to know. "I'm not sure if I should even try to explain this, but I guess you deserve that much, after I laughed at your explanation. With the breaking up of the message over the speakers, it sounded as if you said that Cole had been caught masturbating and it hit the aide in the head." As soon as I finished that sentence, both aides looked at each other, trying to picture what I had just described, and both immediately began to turn red and snort, as they tried to stifle their own laughter. It didn't work though, and we were now standing in the hallway and laughing hysterically. The teachers and students passing by, as well as the kids still in the lunchroom, thought we had all flipped out or gone completely crazy, but it took a while for us to regain our composure. When we did, Jo Ann spoke again. "Oh, Josh. I'm so sorry I spoke to you like that earlier. I was afraid you were going to brush this off, just because he's your son." "I think both of you should know me better than that by now," I replied. "I would never protect any of my boys, if they were in the wrong. If anything, I would be even harder on them than anyone else. Send Cole out here and I'll deal with him now. He'll be going back to my office with me, so we can discuss this incident further." They both apologized to me again, but when they saw Cole and thought back to what I thought they'd said about what had happened, they both started giggling again. This really confused Cole, because he didn't understand what they were laughing about and thought this meant he was going to be a dead man. From that point on, he shuffled toward me with his head down and his shoulders slouched, almost looking like a submissive puppy. "Up to my office, young man. We'll discuss this situation there," I informed him. He walked beside me up to my office, never glancing at me even once, and the entire walk was done in complete silence. When we entered my office, I closed the door and told him to sit. "Now I'd like to hear your version of this story." "I shot some of my mashed potatoes at one of the other kids," he admitted, "but it hit the aide instead." He never looked up at me during that whole sentence. "Do you want to explain WHY you were shooting potatoes at another student?" I enquired. "Not really," he shot back, quickly. "Well, I'd like to hear it, anyway," I persisted. Cole looked up at me, with this sad puppy-dog look on his face, but he wasn't crying. He gazed into my eyes for the first time since I went down to get him and I could tell there was more than just a little embarrassment that was causing his reluctance. "Please, tell me," I prodded him. "I know you well enough to understand you wouldn't do such a thing without reason. I'd just like to know what it was." He studied my face for a while longer, which also gave him time to choose his words carefully. Finally, he spoke. "A boy at the other table was saying that I was dumb and so stupid that I wouldn't be in this school, if you weren't my father." He almost spat out the words, rather than speak them, and I knew the other boy's taunts had hurt him deeply. "You know you're not stupid or dumb," I assured him. "You just have some trouble learning. Even Albert Einstein had a learning disability, but look at what he accomplished." "Was that other kid right?" Cole challenged, after it appeared that he had failed to listen to what I'd just said. "Would I be sent to another school if I wasn't your son?" He was obviously concentrating more on what the other kid had said, rather than what I was telling him. "No, Cole, you wouldn't," I stated adamantly. "There isn't anything wrong with you that we can't compensate for. It's just that you need to learn using different techniques than most of the others, that's all. It's not that you can't learn the material, it's just that you need to approach it differently." At this point I paused, to see if he was digesting what I'd just told him. "I'd like to know who this other boy is?" I pressed, once I thought he'd understood my message. "I can't tell you," he insisted, after a horrified look came across his face. "Can't or won't?" I challenged. "I guess it's won't," he admitted, reluctantly. "Please, let me handle this myself. I don't need my dad taking care of my problems. That would only make it worse. I'll either learn to ignore him or I'll prove to him that he's wrong." Cole was determined to do this his own way. "I guess that proves it," I responded, admiring his stance. "What do you mean? Proves what?" he asked, not understanding. "Proves that I can't do this myself?" "No!" I acknowledged. "It proves you've already solved your problem all by yourself. You looked at the situation, decided what would be best for you and then made your decision. A stupid kid would have taken the easy way out and let me handle the problem for him. You didn't do that. That proves to me that you're not stupid." Cole flashed me a little grin and then began to walk toward me. "Thanks, Dad. You made me feel better without doing anything to interfere. I really appreciate that." "Well, don't start feeling too good," I warned him. "You'll still have to be disciplined for the mashed potato thing. You knew better than to do something like that." "I know," he admitted, "but I just lost my cool. I'll accept whatever punishment you say and won't complain. I know I deserve it, although I wish my aim had been better." "Very funny," I remarked, sarcastically. "You are assigned to three after school detentions, starting today, and you are barred from attending all after school functions for that same period. You will also write a note to the aide, explaining your actions and apologizing about what happened." He just shrugged slightly and nodded. "Now, go out and take a seat in the waiting area until your next class," I advised him. "It will only be a few more minutes until the bell sounds." "Okay, dad," he agreed, as he started to leave my office, but then he stopped at the door and turned back toward me. "I'm sorry I did that. I know you're disappointed in me and that I embarrassed you by what I did. I will try to do better from now on. Okay?" "Come here, you little stinker," I told him, proud that he had taken that additional step. After he walked over to me, I gave him a big hug. "You didn't embarrass me, although I was disappointed that you didn't resolve your problem with the other student a better way. I love you and understand we all make mistakes from time to time. As long as those mistakes are minor, you learn from them and you're willing to take responsibility for your actions, then I can live with that." I kissed him on the forehead. "Now get out of here, you rascal, before I change my mind and decide I need to paddle your bottom." As he turned and started to leave the office, I couldn't resist the opportunity and gave him a playful smack on his rear. Cole immediately spun back around. "What was that for?" he asked, laughing. "For making me forget I was the principal and causing me to slide into my father mode. I don't usually kiss and hug the other students." He merely smiled at me, before he turned and went out the door. He barely had time to sit down before the bell sounded, but he did wave to me as he headed off to his next class. Castaway Hotel -- Grand Reopening -- Book 2 by BW Copyright 2009 by billwstories Chapter 12 -- A Problem Out of Control. Friday night I could still see the tension between Kevin and Dustin. After dinner, Dustin came to me, to ask for a favor. "Dad, do you mind if I go to the football game with some of my other friends. I really need some time away from Kevin, until I sort things out." "No, I don't mind," I told him, "but first I need to know whom you'll be going with?" Dustin quickly told me the other boys' names, and since I didn't hear the names of anyone I wouldn't want him to hang around with, I decided to give him permission to go. "Will you be coming home with us or will they bring you back here?" I asked, in order to clarify the situation. "I'd like to hang with them for a while after the game too, if that's okay," he told me. "They said they would bring me home later, if that was all right with you." Although I still had some reservations about the situation, since I wasn't able to put a face with any of the names he'd mentioned, I reluctantly agreed. "Alright, but just be home by midnight," I advised him. "Thanks, Dad. I love you," he told me, before leaving to get ready for his big night out. After he walked away, I continued to make sure the others were fed and then I hurried them along, so we wouldn't be late for the game. Before long, we packed everyone into the van and headed for the school's football stadium. This was our big high school rivalry game, against the team from the community closest to us. It has been our school's biggest rivalry for well over thirty years. Our team wore their jerseys to school that day and most students dressed in school colors, because the school also sponsored a pep rally for this game. It was held just before school let out for the day and was a really big event in our small town. As planned, Brandon and Jay met us at the game and then the high school boys went off on their own to look for some of their other friends. I thought the younger ones were going to stay with me, but they quickly found a group of their fellow students and asked if they could sit with them instead. After giving them permission, I went up into the stands alone and found a group of teachers and other administrators to sit with. In a way this worked out nicely, as it was nice to sit and chat with adults for a change, about things other than just the boys. We got through all the pre-game hoopla, which included both schools' bands performing and the teams racing out onto the field for their introductions. Then there was a great deal of noise, a whole lot of action and one hell of a game on the field. At halftime, our team was leading by a single point, since the other team had failed to convert one of its extra point attempts. I was reliving some of the highlights of the game with those I was sitting with, when the boys started showing up, looking to hit me up for some money. They wanted to go to the concession stand and chow down again, so I complied. After doling out a few dollars to each of them, they took off, leaving me alone with the adult crowd, who eagerly joked about me being a soft touch. The second half was just as exciting, even though our team lost the game on the next to last series of plays. It was obvious there had been a mental breakdown in the pass coverage on one particular play, which allowed the other team's quarterback to find one of his receivers completely open, about thirty yards downfield. He hit him with a perfect pass and it only got worse for our team from there. The receiver did the rest of the damage by avoiding one would-be tackler and sprinting into the end zone, thus completing the sixty-seven yard scoring play. After the extra point was successful, the other team was leading 33 -- 28. As they kicked off to us, there was still a chance we could pull the game out. The ball was caught by our fastest back and he returned it to just over mid-field. With some great play calling and outstanding ball handling, our team drove another thirty-plus yards, putting them in the red-zone. It looked as if we were going to score again, when one of the running backs fumbled the ball on the fourteen-yard line. The other team recovered the fumble and then ran out the clock. It was a tough loss, but an interesting game to watch. After it was over, I met the boys at the main gate, where we had agreed to meet. Of course, Brandon and Jay were with them and we talked for a few minutes and discussed what time they'd come over tomorrow, since they were spending the night. Once that had been decided, we said our good-byes and went our own way. When we got home, the boys cleaned up and goofed around for a couple of hours before they went to bed. I, on the other hand, sat up and waited for my last son to join us. However, midnight came and went and there was no sign of Dustin. I stayed in the family room and continued to watch the tube to help pass the time, while I waited for him show up. When that program ended, I realized it was now one a.m. and there was still no sign of Dustin. I was beginning to panic, because this wasn't like him. Since he'd been with me, he'd been fairly responsible, so I wasn't sure what to think. Before I knew it, it was after two and the phone rang. "Hello," I answered, hoping to hear Dustin's voice on the other end of the line. "Hello. Is this Mr. Joshua Currie?" the voice asked. I didn't recognize it and began to panic slightly. "It is," I confirmed. "This is Sgt. Mulligan from the police department," he informed me, rather brusquely. "Do you have a son named Dustin?" My heart sank. "Yes, I do," I admitted, while my mind raced with various thoughts about why the police would be calling me about him. I didn't have to wait long to get my answer. "Well, I'm sorry to inform you that we've just rushed him to the hospital," Officer Mulligan told me. "We're not certain what's wrong with him, but he was unconscious when he was discovered." "Discovered? Will he be all right?" I pressed, gravely concerned. "I'm not certain as to his current condition," he informed me. "The doctors are checking him over now and they asked me to call you. They need you to come down to sign some forms and get your permission to treat him." "I'll be right there and thank you," I told him, before hanging up and racing off. I went upstairs and woke both Danny and Kevin. I told them what was up and asked Danny to look after the others, because I figured Kevin would want to go with me to the hospital. I knew he'd most likely be deeply hurt if I didn't do this for him, even though the two of them were currently having problems. We both dressed quickly and then drove off. We talked a little on the way down and Kevin kept envisioning the worse case scenario. I told him to think positively until we talked to the doctors, to which he responded he'd try. When we arrived at the emergency room, we announced our presence to the nurse at the desk and were immediately rushed over to the intensive care unit, where we could see Dustin lying on one of the beds. Kevin walked over to stand beside him, while I discussed the situation with the doctor who'd just joined us. "What's the matter with him, doctor?" I asked, hoping to finally get some answers. "We're not positive," he began, "but it looks as if your son has overdosed on drugs or at least had some sort of adverse reaction to them." I think my mouth must have hit the floor after hearing that. "No, it can't be!" I responded. "I don't think he's even tried drugs before." The doctor gave me that look which said, 'how naïve can some parents be?' "I'm sorry, sir," he countered, "but parents are often the last to know when their children start experimenting with such things. The police are currently questioning some of the boys who were with him and alerted us to his problem. We're running blood tests in order to determine the exact nature of his problem." "Where are these other boys?" I wanted to know, hoping they might be able to give me more details about what happened to Dustin. "They've been transported to the police station, to fill out reports," he explained. "One of the officers should be back shortly and will advise me as to any relevant information they've discovered." "Will you inform me about it also?" I asked, hoping there wasn't going to be some confidentiality issue with it. "I'd really like to know what he tells you." "Certainly. I don't think that will be a problem," he assured me. "You may stay here with your son and I'll let you know whenever anyone contacts me." "Thank you, doctor," I replied, before going to be with Dustin and Kevin. I walked over and put my arm around Kevin's shoulder and looked at Dustin's prone body on the gurney. As was typical, there were multiple tubes attached to his body carrying oxygen, fluids and who knows what else into his system. Kevin was crying softly. "What happened, Dad?" he sobbed. "What's the matter with Dusty?" "The doctors think it's a drug overdose," I explained. "They're running tests and talking to other people to try to determine what happened." "But he's never used drugs," Kevin responded. "If he did, I'd know, but if he just started now, then I'm the one who drove him to it. It's my fault, Dad. I'm the one who did this to him." "Hang on there, champ," I urged him. "First of all, we're not absolutely certain as to what caused this, and even if it is from drugs, you're not responsible for it. Dustin's a big boy and is quite capable of making his own decisions. He knows the danger of drugs, and if that's what this is all about, he'll be the one to accept full responsibility for his actions." "But I drove him to it, Dad," Kevin insisted. "If he used drugs, he did it because he thought I didn't love him any more." "Did you stop loving him?" I asked. "No!" Kevin exclaimed, shocked that I'd even asked such a question. "Well, then, you didn't do anything to cause this," I reiterated. "Dustin saw what he wanted to see, even though we all tried to convince him he was wrong. You didn't do this to Dustin. Dustin did this to himself. You can feel bad about what has happened and worry about his chances of recovering, but you absolutely cannot blame yourself for his actions. You did nothing to cause this. His problems were all in his mind, but he just wouldn't admit or accept that." Kevin just buried his head into my chest and wept. "I love Dustin too," I continued, "and I want him to be all right, but we can't beat ourselves up over what he chose to do. Dustin's teachers and I made certain he knew the dangers of using drugs and understood the possible consequences of abusing them. If he chose to ignore that information, then we can't blame ourselves. We'll all make mistakes, but hopefully we can learn from them. I just pray Dustin will have the chance to learn from this mistake and become a better person for it." We continued to sit by his side, hold his hand and stroke his hair. We both spoke to him softly and lovingly, letting him know we wanted him to get better, while making sure he could feel we were there for him. Some time later the doctor came by to get me, so I told Kevin I had to leave for a few minutes and asked him if he'd be all right. "Where are you going?" he wanted to know. "I have to go speak with the Doctor," I informed him. "Hopefully, he will have something more to tell me about Dustin's condition." Kevin nodded his understanding, so I slipped out of the room, but not before I saw him bend over and kiss Dustin's forehead, as I walked out the door. "Mr. Currie, this is Detective Mark Foreman," the doctor informed me. "He is the person in charge of investigating what happened to your son." We quickly exchanged greetings and Detective Foreman proceeded to tell us what he'd learned. "I've interviewed several of the boys who were with your son this evening," he began, " but I still don't have all of the specifics about what took place. It is apparent the boys are scared about what might happen to them, as a result of this, but I think I've managed to get most of the basics. Before I share those with you, however, I have a few questions I'd like you to answer first. When was the last time you saw your son?" "It was somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00," I replied, "just after the high school football game ended. He came up and asked if he could go out with his friends for a bit, and after checking on who he was going to be with, I told him to be home by midnight." "That pretty much agrees with what the others have told me so far," he commented. "However, after they left the game, it seems at least one of them got their hands on a drug called ecstasy. Due to the extreme peer pressure, it appears each of the boys decided to give it a try." My heart sank at that point, as I realized Dustin had given into temptation, possibly due to his recent depression. I was now kicking myself for letting him go earlier. "The other boys informed me," the officer continued, shaking me from my thoughts, "that your son was acting strangely and seemed depressed. They think that's why he agreed to it. They also admitted they were surprised by his decision, since he'd turned down many similar chances to try other drugs at various times. I'm not certain as to what impact it might have, sir, and I'm sorry about what you're going through, but do you happen to know what your son was depressed about?" "Let's just say that it was a lover's quarrel," I advised him, "and it happened within the past couple of days. That's one of the reasons I let him go out with these friends, hoping it would snap him out of it." "I understand," the officer commiserated, "and that fills in another piece of this puzzle. Anyway, the boys all tried the ecstasy, but at first none of them noticed that something was different with Dustin. They admitted they had no idea Dustin was in any trouble, until they all started to come down from their high. They explained that when they saw him, they kind of figured he must have had some strange reaction to it. The doctor tells me he now suspects it was some sort of allergic reaction to the drug. Your son was lucky that one of the boys had a cell phone and called 911, before they worried about how much trouble they might all be in." "Did they tell you anything else?" I pressed. "You've heard everything I've learned so far," he answered, "and you most likely know more about what led up to this better than I do." "I appreciate the information, Detective," I offered, "and I'm positive it will help the doctors to be better able to treat him, but I want to get back to my boy. Before I leave, though, I want to thank both of you for everything you've done and hope we can join forces to combat this problem of drugs together, once Dustin is doing better." They both concurred, so I went back into the area where Kevin was keeping vigil. We sat beside Dustin's bed for much of the rest of the morning. The doctor came in sometime between 9:00 and 10:00, to advise us that they were transferring him from the intensive care unit and into a private room. He explained that his vital signs had begun to stabilize and that from here it would just be a waiting game to see how his body reacted to the continuing treatment. "Will there be any lingering effects from this?" I asked, hoping for a favorable response. "Much of that is still uncertain," he informed me. "Drug reactions can limit the amount of oxygen getting to vital organs, so there is always a chance of organ damage or other side effects. However, we won't know for certain, until he is fully stabilized." I just looked at Kevin, knowing he wouldn't like the sound of what we were just told. "Why don't you two go home and get some rest," the doctor suggested, to which both Kevin and I began to object. "He'd probably prefer to see you alert, rather than sleepy- eyed when he comes to, and I doubt that will be anytime soon." Although Kevin and I both began to speak, the doctor managed to halt our protests, even before they began. "Look at it this way," he explained, "we're going to clean him up now and put him into a hospital gown, before we move him to the other room, and then the nurses will need time to set his equipment up and get him settled, before you'd be able to rejoin him. Then, when Dustin does come to, we'll have plenty of questions to ask him, tests to run and we'll need to examine him again, before you'd be allowed to be with him, so why don't you just go home and get some rest. You'll all be better off for it, when you can spend time with each other again." The doctor then added that Dustin would probably also prefer it if we brought him back some pajamas when we returned, so he could change out of the hospital gown, once he regained consciousness. He told us the gowns weren't particularly good for modesty and most patients preferred their own garments, when possible. After agreeing with all of his various points, Kevin and I reluctantly gave in and went home to catch a couple of hours sleep. E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive' comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com - but please put the story title in the subject line, so it doesn't get deleted as junk mail.