Well Jeremy, in his sticky shorts, managed to make his way home later that evening. Nothing else happened after we left them because Suzzane came back into the house and was closely followed by Mrs. Wist ... Michael's Mom. We will let Jeremy take over the narration ...
By Paul Schroder
When I got home that evening, Scully was all over me trying to get the particulars about our Sammy bash. Although I was pretty tired after my tryst with Michael, I brought Scully up to my room to give him the rundown on the glue caper. We were about an hour away from dinner and I didn't want Mom overhearing any of this. The two of us were chortling and snickering and hee-hawing like crazy after I described Suzzane's one-way conversation with some air-head girlfriend.
"A fright wig huh?" Scully said, giggling.
"Yeah, and then she said he screwed a baseball cap down on his head and slinked out the back door of the school. And you know, he must have borrowed that hat from someone cuz he would never own something that would mash down his pretty boy hair."
We were both chortling over that. Then Scully said ...
"It probably kills him during football season to have to wear a helmet!"
"Yeah," I replied, "basketball has to be his favorite game cuz he doesn't have to put anything on his head."
"Har, har. I'll bet by tomorrow night's practice he'll be wishing they made basketball helmets so he could cover up," Scully added with a few more chortles.
Oh man, I was feeling more energized by the minute. My little brother and I could always communicate on a level that was pretty special. I just sat there with happy visions of a bald Sammy boy in my head when Scully said ...
"So Jer, have you and Michael had sex together yet?"
'HOLY ...' Where the hell did that come from? I felt like I'd just been sucker punched while buying Girl Scout cookies. You probably couldn't have pried my shoes off me right then cuz all the blood just drained from the upper part of my body down to my feet. I was just sort of staring at him the way I stared at Michael in Potter's field last Saturday ... too surprised, in too much shock to say anything. And, I guess, I was at a total loss for words. I couldn't say 'yes' obviously, and 'no' would mean we just hadn't gotten around to it yet. God, it was either a trick question (a Scully special) or I was just having a major brain fart.
Skull's eyes just started getting bigger the longer he stared at me, and the longer I failed to answer him, until finally he said ...
"Holy shit Jer ... you DID ... didn't you? You guys have screwed your brains out haven't you?"
I guess my face went from shocked to dumbfounded. I just kind of shook my head to clear the cobwebs and said ...
"Skull! What the hell are you talking about? Where the hell did you get the idea that I would even want to do something like that with Michael? I mean ... I mean ..."
"Oh cool your jets Jeremy." He said, lightly slugging me in the arm.
"I may be your little brother but I'm not freaking blind either you know. I've been watching you two making calf-eyes at each other for days now. My God, you don't have to be Mother Teresa to recognize a starving child ... and you two look like you could eat each other up - you're so darn hungry!"
I don't know why my shoes haven't exploded by now what with every drop of blood in my body being in my feet. I was feeling downright woozy. My mouth was hanging open like a Venus Fly Trap, just waiting for the unsuspecting fly.
'Holy shit ... holy shit ... holy shit' was the mantra whirling through my gray matter. This is exactly why I have been trying to avoid the Weasel these past few weeks. He is just way too smart ... or I am way too dumb. Either way, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to wiggle out of this. My mind was a little too foggy right now to think clearly anyway. 'Holy shit ... holy shit ... holy SHIT.'
"Jer ... JEREMY!" Scully was waving a hand in front of my face. Then he said...
"Take a breath or lie down or something. I think you're going to pass out dude! Hey look ... I'm sorry. It was a dirty trick, OK? I mean, I shouldn't have just surprised you with it like that but ... but I wanted to worm the truth out of you. I know you like a book Jeremy. I wasn't going to give you time to make something up."
He was right. I was close to passing out. Hell ... I felt like I was close to croaking to tell you the truth. Or rather, I sort of wish I could have croaked right then. I just lay back on my bed. The fainting problem was over cuz the blood was rushing back to my head with a roar. I could feel my cheeks coloring up like I was Michael standing naked in an auditorium full of people. I was totally embarrassed. First, I out myself to my best friend and now - I've outed myself to my little brother. What's next ... do I get on the p.a. system at school and make a school-wide announcement? "Hey everybody, I just blew on my best friend's harmonica and made him cum in his underwear!"
I just sighed and tilted my head and looked at my little brother. Skull was looking at me with this real concerned expression on his face.
"You OK Jer?" he asked me.
I just nodded my head at him, still too embarrassed to say anything.
He scootched up on the bed next to me; Skull started talking in a quiet voice.
"You don't know how jealous I am of you Jeremy. I mean, you have someone really exceptional in your life. Michael is just about the greatest guy I know ... outside of my big brother. And now you have a really special bond with him. It's probably something I'll never know."
And he just sorta started tearing up after he said that. He just sat there, pushing those stupid glasses back up his nose and then a tear would cause them to slide down again and he'd push them up again. Finally he just grabbed them and dropped them on the bed. He was holding his hands over his eyes. I guess he was embarrassed to have me see him crying.
Christ ... am I freaking blind or what? I've been so concerned about my own angst that I have been totally unperceptive to my brother's. I sat up and pulled Scully into my arms. He wrapped his arms around me and we both had a good cry for a few minutes; him crying from his own loneliness, and me crying for my blindness and for my love for my little brother. I just held him tight and rocked him back and forth.
"You're right Skull. I do have something pretty special. Not just in Michael but in a really terrific brother as well."
He just pulled me in tighter when he heard this. Then after a couple of minutes he raised his head to look at me.
"Do you think I might ever have what you guys have Jeremy ... someone to love me and think I'm special too?"
Christ, this kid was breaking my heart right and left. I honestly didn't know what to say to him. My first instinct was to assure him that yes, of course you will ... just give it time, blah, blah, blah. But that would just be patronizing him and he would recognize it. I mean, honestly, what Michael and I had discovered tonight was probably one in a million for most gay kids. And I'm not referring to the potential for sex, but for the really important stuff ... the bonding and the loving.
"I don't know Skull." I finally said to him. "But what I do know is that if anyone deserves it ... you do. And I know this too, if either Michael or I can think of a way to bring it to you, we sure as hell will." And I just pushed his head into my shoulder again.
And so you have it. At that moment the concept for the next monkey-trap was born. Oh, it had nothing to do with revenge or bringing retribution against injustice. It had to do with my little brother and finding him someone like my Michael. And to be honest, I don't know if it's even possible. But I know this, I'm going to stir every bit of gray matter I have until I come up with an idea. I'm going to stir Michael's too, even if I have to use a stick to do it. I am going to have to convince Michael that this is something very, very important to me, and that it's something worth doing.
I didn't drop off to sleep right away that night. In fact I tossed and turned like crazy. I should have been fantasizing about the things I did with my Mikey boy today. But even Michael wasn't on my mind. Well, he was, in a way. I had to figure out how I was going to approach him and get him to help me ... or help us rather ... Skull and me.
Tuesday morning dawns and I drag myself to school. Blurry-eyed and sleepy, I meet Michael at our locker.
"Dude," he says, "you look like you slept in a clothes dryer or something and the tumbling kept you awake."
"Nah Michael. It was the agitator in the washer and then the spin cycle that did me in. Oh my God, dude. I can't wait until English class so I can take a little nap."
Michael gets this wicked gleam in his eye. He kind of leans into me and whispers ...
"Why do I get the feeling that your lack of sleep revolves around 'little Jeremy' and your introduction to 'little Michael'?"
I smack him in the arm and say ...
"Michael, my entire world doesn't revolve around your dick."
And then I grin back at him and say...
"Besides, now that I've had my way with you it's time for new conquests!"
"In your dreams boyo," and he smacks me in the arm, harder than I hit him.
"Besides, I'm kind of hurt now Jer. Cuz I know what I was thinking about last night when I fell asleep. And it wasn't Sammy's bald head! It was somebody's little head ... although it's quite bald too ... giggle."
"You didn't even see my little head last night Mic" I answered, getting into his playful mood. "You made me cum in my pants, remember?"
"Who the hell's talking about your little head Jer. I meant mine ... dumb-ox ... giggle ... snort."
"Oh right. You fell asleep thinking about your own dick ... uh uh, I don't think so. Now if you were Sammy, I could probably believe it."
"Speaking of Sammy" Michael answers, "I haven't seen hide nor hair of him this morning."
"Oh yeah!" I respond, looking around. Then I point down the hallway and say ...
"Hey Mic. Looks who's walking this way and grinning like he just got a prostate exam from Dr. Tongue."
Michael just looked at me and wrinkled his nose. Guess he's not into butt-tongue analogies. I swear, I'm just going to have to introduce that boy to the world of internet porn. What sounds pretty revolting on the surface can seem downright exciting when its happening right in front of your face. But anyway, the person in question walks up to us and Michael says...
"Hi Tyson. Sup?"
"Hey guys" he responds. Then...
"Don't be looking for Sammy right away. The word is that his Mom is taking him to some expensive hair stylist for some reconstructive work ... giggle, snort." Gawd ... this boy is as geeky as my Michael and laughs just like him. But that's OK; he speaks our language ... giggle, snort.
"So tell us what you know," Michael says, bobbing himself up and down on his toes, all excited.
"Well, my friend Alicia lives next door to the dork. Alicia's Mom and Sammy's Mom are kinda close. Anyway, Alicia says their Mom's were talking last night about the huge hissy fit Sammy threw when he got home from basketball practice. His Mom said he took off his hat and showed her his hair and it looked like it had dried snot all through it. Then I guess Sammy really got pissed because his Mom started laughing when she saw it. I suppose even his Mom knows what a pretentious prick Sammy is."
Michael and I are just leaning against the lockers, our belly's shaking with soundless mirth as we are visualizing this. 'Oh my God...oh my God!'
"Snort, snort, snort ... gasp ... wheeze!"
Tyson is grinning like crazy, enjoying the effects that his story is having on us. He continues ...
"Anyway, Sammy said that if it wasn't fixable then he was going to cut it all off and wasn't going back to school until it grew out again. Then he told his Mom that she could just pay for private tutoring cuz he meant it ... and then he did a bit of foot stomping. His Mom said he just grew angrier and angrier because she was having trouble controlling her laughter during his conniption fit."
By now, Michael and I have just sorta slid down onto our haunches and covered our faces with our hands, shaking in silent laughter. If a teacher spots us he will probably have us drug tested. My stomach hasn't hurt this bad since I watched the Joneses smearing ink across their foreheads. 'Lord help me. Stop the pain.'
Ty is laughing and having trouble getting out the story but he continues ...
"His Mom made an appointment this morning with some super expensive hair stylist. But she told him he was going to have to pay for it himself and it would come out of his savings. Then she laid down the law and said he would be back in school by this afternoon no matter what he looked like."
So, here's Mic and I squatting down in the hallway, looking at each other through tear-fogged eyes, grinning like a Boy Scout troop touring a whorehouse. Poor Tyson isn't in much better shape. If he has anything else to say, it isn't coming out for awhile cuz his face is all contorted. The three of us look like we have just been sprayed in the face with Mace what with all the tears that are flowing.
"Oh Jesus Jer ..." I hear Michael say, "oh ... oh ... shoot me now. I don't want to suffer any more ... har ... har ... har!"
We are saved from eminent laughter death by the vision of Michael's sister standing before the three of us, with her hands on her hips, looking totally pissed. We just look up at her and try to screw our faces straight.
"Well ..." she says, "I've a pretty good idea of what you nerdy freaks are laughing about" she tells us, in her best school-marm manner. This kind of dries our mirth up pretty quick cuz we can smell some trouble wafting our way. Then she says ...
"There's something pretty sick about laughing at someone else's misfortune. Not only that ..." she seems to pause for a minute.
"Not only that ..." and her facial features are starting to contort.
"Not only that ... snort, snort ... hee ... hee ... hee!" and Suzzane is slowly sinking down to the floor with the three of us.
That's all it takes and then are four howling idiots slapping the floor and causing half the hallway to stare down our direction.
'Oh Jesus ... send some lightning ... drop me now ... give me a heart attack ... just take the pain out of my poor stomach!!'
We are all still in pretty bad shape when we drag ourselves off to first period. I get into trouble a couple of times from spontaneous giggles during my math teacher's lecture. He asks me what is so humorous about quadratic equations and all I can do is shake my head and bite my lip.
This has to be the second best Monday of my life. It even beats last Monday when the Jones brothers got their ink bath. By the way, they are both back in school now and still look like cast members from Braveheart. But their ink stains are going to fade a heck of a lot faster than Sammy boy's hair is going to re-grow. Snort ... snort.
I am really antsy when third period gym rolls around, to see if Sammy has made it back from his hair appointment yet. But no Sammy. In fact, it isn't until way after lunch that Michael and I see him walking down a hallway. He has a baseball cap squished down on his head, a scowl squished on his face, his hands squished into his pockets and an attitude that says "I want to squish somebody!" Needless to say, neither we nor anyone else in the school make any attempts at levity. Hell, no one even approaches the guy - including any of his jock friends. And t'would be best for all geeky boys to keep their distance for a long while into the future ... snicker.
I can see some hair at the nape of his neck, where the cap doesn't cover it. It appears to be about an eighth inch long. I am willing to bet that the hair on top of his head isn' t any longer. I whisper to Michael ...
"Hmm ... I wonder if Hallmark makes a card for this sort of thing? Perhaps I could write him one. How about ... "Why my friend is your face so long, (open it up and) ... Is it because your hair's all gone?" Snort, snort.
"Or ... or ..." Michael continues... "Sorry to see you looking so sad, (and inside) ... I switched shampoo - whoops, my bad!"
We've huddled up against the wall and are trying so hard not to laugh out loud and draw attention. A few people are looking our way and grinning at us. Boy ... poor Sammy just doesn't elicit a lot of sympathy around here. "Snert, snert, mumble hee."
At school's end Michael and I meet up at the locker. We gather the material needed for this evening's homework assignments and then head out the door. As is our normal procedure, we will go to Michael's house and knock out some of the homework and, mostly, shoot the bull. When we are finally outside and far enough away from eavesdroppers Michael says to me ...
"OK, Jer. Except for our brief laughing spell at Sammy's expense, your face has been hung like a Bassett hound's all day. What gives?"
I proceed to explain my encounter with Scully last night and the bombshell the boy dropped on me. Michael's face blanches and I can see fear stamped all over it.
"Oh my God Jeremy. He asked if we've had sex yet? Of course you told him that was a stupid question ... right?"
There is a sort of pregnant pause while I try to figure out how to answer and then Michael is jumping around me with his hands on his temples.
"Oh no ... oh no ... you panicked didn't you Jeremy? You panicked and turned into a mute while your brother just inferred your guilt from your silence." and his voice had raised an entire octave by the end of his sentence. 'Cheeze ... does my Mikey know me or what?'
I suppose my sheepish expression tells him all he needs to know. He stops his dancing and just bends over with his hands on his knees.
"I think I'm going to throw up," he announces.
"It's OK Michael," I tell him, "let me explain."
While my buddy stands there in his semi-fetal position, I go on to tell him what Scully had said after my silence had given me away ... again. How he said he was jealous of me because I have someone really exceptional in my life.
I find myself misting up all over again as I dredge this conversation back up. Michael has raised his head now and is just watching me. I gulp a couple of times to try and hold back the tremor that wants to come out in my voice. When I feel I can maintain myself, I explain how Scully's next statement was about him ... about Michael.
"Scully said you are about the greatest guy he knows ... outside of his big brother. And that now I have a really special bond with you. And that our bond is something he will probably never know" and then I feel those damn tears starting all over again.
I pull my glasses off and use my forearm to swipe across my face.
"Oh Michael ... then he asked me something that just about tore my heart out. He was crying and I was crying ... and then he looked me in the eyes and asked me if I thought he would ever get lucky enough to have someone special to love him too."
It's a good thing I've said everything that needs saying because I'm in no shape to do anymore talking. I can barely see Michael as a wavy outline because of the tears in my eyes. But his wavy figure approaches me and I can feel his arm going around my shoulder. Then his hand slides down and rubs the small of my back. I feel him give a gentle push against my back and we've commenced walking again.
"Jeremy" he says, quietly, as we continue our journey, "you can really feel your brother's loneliness can't you?"
"Yeah Mic ... I mean, can't you?" I look over at him. "I feel so bad now about skipping out of the house without him and leaving him at home those times. He just doesn't seem to be very good at making friends Mic. You and I are about all the friends he has. And I only left him because ... well, because I knew he would figure out that I had strong feelings for you. Scully can read me like a book."
There's a few seconds of silence then Michael gives me a playful jab to my arm.
"It's not a very deep book Jer" he says, "it's more like a comic book" and I can hear the grin in his voice.
I jab him back and we continue walking, in silence, for a ways.
"Wow" Michael says quietly, somewhat in awe, "sometimes I think that boy is smarter than the two of us put together."
"Tell me about it" I mumble.
We are about half way to his house before any more words are spoken. Then Michael says ...
"So what are we going to do Jer? I mean ... besides just being there for him ... what else can we do?"
My crybaby eyes have dried by now. My glasses are back on and I just look over at my friend.
"I don't know Mic. But what would you say we start by going over to my place right now ... you know ... let's do our homework over there instead of at your house."
Michael gives me a smile and a nod. My boy is pretty special. He knows the guilt I am feeling about excluding my little brother from so many things.
"Good idea bud. Besides ... maybe I can get the Weasel to help me with my homework" and he gives me this really big grin. I grin right back at him.
"I don't think you'll even have to bribe him Mic. For some reason the dummy thinks you're pretty special."
Now that makes me feel a lot better. I don't know about you, but I've been worried about poor little Scully. Maybe the neglected little guy can be included in some things now. Hmm ... but just what sort of things? Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you have some ideas.
Copyright February 2007. All rights retained. No duplication without author's permission. No posting on another web site without approval. No, I'm not gay ... but my lover is.