Max’s Awakening #32

by craigpnifty@protonmail.com and J

Author’s notes:

Welcome to the Mother’s Day edition of Max’s tale.  You’ll see this chapter is apropos.

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Chapter 32

I waited by the flagpole as I watched the buses depart.  As they passed the front of the school, I had an eerie feeling.  I could be imagining things, but I swear most kids were staring at me as they drove past. 

It made me even happier I was getting a ride.  I still wasn’t sure what it would be like walking the halls as ‘the fag from S.N.O.’, but at least I didn’t have to deal with it today.  I was glad.  After spending the day with Mr. Tim, I was in an awesome mood.  I didn’t need any shithead comments ruining it.

***

I basked in the sun for a few minutes as I watched the pick-up lane thin out.  It wasn’t long before I spotted Craig’s black BMW.  I was confident my day - which started out horribly with my unexpected assignment to ISS - was going to continue to improve.

I quickly jumped into Craig’s car.  I thanked him for picking me up and asked if we might stop somewhere for a treat, but he denied that request, which seemed odd.  “That’s okay,” I thought, I still have snacks at home from Mom’s shopping trip on Saturday.  I assumed Craig must have to get back to work or have something else to do.  No big deal.  I was just happy to not be on a crowded bus.

I proceeded to tell Craig all about my day in ISS.  I relayed how Mr. Tim is the coolest person at the school and was actually enjoying The Count of Monte Cristo.  I told him Ashley was there as well, and I rambled about how I thought she was a perfect match for Noah.  She’s great.

Craig remained silent.  He seemed preoccupied with something.

So, I told him about how Mr. Tim said we might get to talk at lunch tomorrow or do some work detail around school.  Then I remembered he said someone else was coming to ISS tomorrow.  “Do you know if it’s Noah?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.  “No.  He’s still suspended, but for five days instead of nine,” he finally replied, emotionless.  I was glad my best friend’s OSS was reduced.  But what the eff was up with Craig?  He seemed unenthused to hear about my day, which was unlike him, and totally cold.  He is typically full of questions. 

“Oh,” I answered.  “At least he’ll be back next week.  I wonder who it is coming tomorrow?” I added - the last line more of a comment to myself.

“I wouldn’t know!” Craig blurted out angrily.  He was clearly annoyed. 

Jesus!  What’s his problem?  “What?  Bad day or something?”  He was acting like his boss yelled at him.  I briefly wondered if he even lost his job.  Was that why he was free to pick me up?

“You could say that,” he growled. 

Okay, okay.  Message received.  I shut up.

***

“Um… thanks,” I said as he pulled into my driveway.  I’ve never seen him so pissy and I was anxious to find a snack and read over the letter to Mom that was in my pocket.  I figured I probably needed to rewrite and add to it.

He surprised me by shutting the engine off and opening his door.  “You’re coming in?” I asked.

“Yeah, we need to talk,” he replied stoically.  I got the suspicion something was seriously wrong.

He followed me to the living room.  “So, what’s the problem?” I asked. 

I was immediately sorry I asked.  Craig lit into me like never before.  He was angry with me in Mexico when I got caught giving a blowjob on the beach, and upset about the apology letter I wrote Cam, but this was different.

“The problem is your SHITTY FUCKING ATTITUDE,” he began.  I swear I could almost see steam coming out his ears, like in cartoons.  “I had lunch with your mother, AFTER she called me in tears - because of YOU!”

It was clear he knew about the mean things I said to Mom.  But I already knew that was wrong!  Mr. Tim made sure to drive that point home.  The letter in my pocket proved it.  It really pissed me off that he was blindsiding me like this, instead of bringing it up calmly. 

“You had the audacity to tell her to leave you the fuck alone?” he yelled.  “And you went on and on about how much you liked to have sex with C—”

I cut him off.  He was really being a dick.  “She was being annoying and in my business.  I was just trying to get her to shut up and leave me alone,” I tried to explain. 

“I was speaking,” he said.  He looked like he was about to explode.  “DO NOT interrupt me again,” he threatened.

“Chill out,” I said, trying to get him to calm the eff down.  If he’d let me talk, I’d tell him about the letter I already wrote.  “She was being ridiculous.”

“Max: you’re the kid.  She’s the parent.  This is her house.  Of course she isn’t going to be happy you’ve been having sex, or were suspended for making out.  What the hell did you expect?”

I was getting mad.  Why is he treating me like a damn baby?  I sure wasn’t just a ‘kid’ in Mexico when we were fucking each other, was I?  “I am not a baby!” I yelled back.  “God, you sound just like her.  Why are you taking her side?”  How can he be chastising me for having sex, when I’ve had as much sex with him as I have with anyone?

“It isn’t about taking sides.  It’s about right and wrong.  And your behavior toward her has been unacceptable,” he explained angrily.

He was right, but now I was too pissed off to admit it.  “Whatever!  You weren’t there.” 

“No, not whatever.  And I didn’t have to be present to know what you said was completely uncalled for.”  Now he was sounding like my asshole of a sperm donor.

“Bruuuuh… I -”  I began to say.

“Don’t ‘Bruh’ me,” he demanded.  “Did you really call her a stupid, alcoholic bitch?  Accuse her of needing to be plastered to talk to you?  Or tell her she’d already know you were having sex if she weren’t passed out drunk all the time?” Oh shit.  He knew EVERYTHING.

“Well, yes, but —" I tried to answer.  I was going to explain I knew it was bad, and was already working on making amends.  But he wasn’t letting me get a word in!  He continued ranting about what I said to Mom at school at the end of the meeting.  Man, that really was bad.  No wonder Mr. Tim was on my ass about it.

I tried to explain.  “Mr. Tim and I already talked about that,” I said.  “I —” I started before he cut me off, again.

“You completely degraded her, Max, and in public.  She was totally distraught.  After she tried to do a bunch of nice things for you all weekend.  It’s just wrong, and I’m incredibly...disgusted and disappointed,” he screamed.  “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

I was, but didn’t need him meddling in the middle of everything.  “This is between Mom and I.  I’ll handle it!  None of this is any of your business,” I yelled back, my fists clenched.  “You’re not my father!” I added in a rage.  He truly had begun to sound like Dad, and I hated it.

My last line must have stung as his tone finally softened. 

“You’re right Max, I’m not,” he said softly.  “But I’m the best you’ve got, and I love you more than anyone ever has, except for your Mom — who you’ve been shitting all over.  It’s because I care about you so much that I’m not going to stand by why you abuse her.  That isn’t the Max I know, and it’s not okay.”

I was still raging.  “Okay, Boomer!” I yelled.  I thought I was being clever.  It was a bad idea.

***

What happened next was horrific.  Craig completely flew off the handle.  I should have never called him a Boomer.

He launched himself at me and pushed me over the back of the couch.  “Hey,” I yelled.  “What are you doing?”  I tried to turn myself around, but I was off balance and his large hand was planted on my lower back.

I felt his other hand grip the waistband of my sweatpants and with a jerk, he pulled them and my underwear down to my knees.  He pulled with so much force I thought I heard something rip.  Was he going to rage fuck me or what?  “What the hell?” I asked as his first blow made contact.  The sounds of his hand coming down echoed off the walls. 

That stung like a bitch!  I tried to twist out of his grip.

“Hold still dammit,” he yelled and landed another swat, this time to the opposite side, even harder than the first.  I was stunned.  I felt tears forming.

Craig was gasping for breath.  “Talking reasonably didn’t work,” he seethed.  “Neither did being grounded or getting suspended.  You obviously need stronger discipline.”

Smack!  Another swat bounced off my ass.  I arched up in pain.  “If you’re going to act like a little fucking brat…” he continued.

Smack.

“I’m going to treat you like one.”

Smack.  Smack.

With each hard slap, I cried harder. 

“You ARE a child!” he continued his barrage.

Smack.

“You are barely fourteen, MAXWELL!”  He’d never called me by my full name, not ever.  I couldn’t believe how degrading this felt.  I know I wanted him to spank me last weekend, but this was horrible.

Slap

“You are a MIDDLE SCHOOLER!”

Whack.  I was bawling, defenseless.  I was sad and angry…and completely defeated.  I was humiliated.

He yelled more things, between several more swats, but I was crying too hard to comprehend what he was saying.

He finished with three quick blows.  “Do I make myself clear?” My ass felt like it was on fire.

He loosened his grip and spun me around.  It was hard to focus through the tears in my eyes, but Craig had a look on his face I had never seen before and can’t quite describe.  It freaked me out.  Still, fuck him.

I did the only thing I could: flee.  I ran, tugging at my sweats to cover my raw, beaten ass.  “FUCK YOU!” I yelled as I rounded the corner of the stairs.  I was completely overwhelmed with emotion.

***

Once I recovered my pants, I beelined upstairs.  I ran to my room and jumped in bed, sobbing into the pillow.  I couldn’t believe Craig - of all people - treated me so harshly and like I was a little kid.  How dare he!

I rubbed my butt.  It still burned, but was already beginning to fade to a dull ache.  I admit to being a little turned on when Chad spanked me, at least initially, but this wasn’t sexual at all.  I felt like I was five and had disappointed my daddy.

Wait…

I had done just that.  This was Craig, a man who has been more like my father in the nine months we’ve known each other than my own dad ever was.  I love him, but more importantly - he loves me.  He refused to spank me when I asked for it, so for him to do so now, I must have really fucking upset him.  He’s never been anything but kind, caring, or loving.

I relived the awful things I said to him and Mom.  Oh God!  She and Craig have always been there for me, no matter what.  I can’t believe the terrible things that came out of my mouth, over and over again, to either of them.  What the hell is wrong with me? 

It’s true I tried explaining I knew I needed to apologize, and Craig wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise, but did that justify how I reacted?  If I had just listened, let him finish, and been respectful, none of this would have happened.  I suddenly remembered a SEL activity from last school year.

Basically, you get a piece of paper, wad it up, walk on it, tear at it, fold it over and over, and then try to smooth it out and apologize for the things you did.  It won’t ever look the same no matter how hard you try to restore it to its original form.  Your words are meaningless.  The damage is permanently scarred. 

I had an immediate surge of guilt.  Saying sorry to Mom wasn’t enough and wouldn’t undo the awful way I treated her, and Craig was just trying to get me to understand and be accountable.  I responded to his efforts by being a dick.  I knew I deserved to be punished.  Frankly, I’m lucky he wasn’t still pounding on my ass — if not for how I’ve treated Mom, for how I spoke to him. 

Moms are supposed to love their kids unconditionally, so she might let me off the hook, but Craig isn’t stuck with me.  He could say fuck it and bail at any time, and I wouldn’t blame him because I’m more trouble than I’m worth.  Why would he forgive me?  That thought made me cry even harder.  I’m not sure I could survive losing him.

I heard footsteps down the hall.  Maybe Craig was coming for another round.  My last words to him were to fuck off, so I’d deserve it.  As he entered my room, I glanced at him.  He looked as upset as I was.

“Bud,” was all he had to say before I knew he wasn’t still angry.  It was apparent from his tone.  I wasn’t going to lose him, after all.  I ran to him, yearning to be embraced and reassured. 

***

Craig and I hugged it out.  I told him I was sorry for how I have been behaving and speaking to him so disrespectfully.  He forgave me, but reminded me it was Mom I really owed an apology. 

I explained how I already knew that because Mr. Tim already lectured me about it and planned to tell her how sorry I was when she came home.  He told me he didn’t expect to ever have to spank me again.  It was obvious he was uncomfortable with losing control.  I told him it was okay, because I would never do anything to give him reason to punish me like that ever again.

It’s weird, but I felt even closer to Craig.  I knew he was sorry about spanking me, but honestly, I deserved it.  I couldn’t stop reflecting on just how much it showed he cared about me not being an asshole, even though he knew it would piss me off and I could destroy his life.  I would never do that, but still.  Now that we were making up, I didn’t want him to leave.  I needed to be near him. 

“Can we please lay down in my bed?” I asked.  I cringed when I heard myself.  I was practically begging and sounded so needy.  It wasn’t how I wanted it to seem, so I attempted to explain.  “I’ve been sitting all day, and -” I added, casually rubbing my butt, which felt numb.

Craig read my mind.  “Yep, you’re going to be a little sore.  Do you want me to rub your back?”  That was just what I hoped for.  I was happy he was being so accommodating.

“Yeah, would you?  Please?”  I replied, smiling.

“Of course.  I know that helps you relax,” he answered.  I slipped off my shirt and crawled onto my bed. 

***

As we cuddled, Craig gently rubbed my back and I felt incredibly content.  I thought about what I would do when Mom arrived, and something became apparent: her knowing about what happened downstairs wasn’t going to help anything.  She might be angry with Craig and I didn’t want that.  Plus, I would rather she not know I had been so rude to him.  I’d rather it be kept between us.  No eighth-grade guy wants to admit to still being spanked, even if they did deserve it. 

“Can I make a request?” 

“Sure,” he answered.

“Will you please not tell Mom about how rudely I spoke to you, or that you had to spank me?  It’s embarrassing, and I don’t want to worry her any more than I already have.”  

I could tell by his reaction he was fine keeping things between us, because he immediately smiled.  “As long as you’re sure,” he replied.  “But it’s one of those things...if we’re ever going to tell her, we should probably do it right away or not at all.”

“I’m positive.  Thanks...Dad,” I answered and melted into his loving arms again.

“So, do you know how you’re going to apologize?” Craig asked after a few moments of bliss.

I really hadn’t thought about specifics, but realized my letter wasn’t sufficient.  I needed to do something special to drive home how sorry I was for being so mean and disrespectful.  Cam could have mailed his card, showing up at S.N.O.  made a major statement, and I love him for it.  I was trying to think of something like that I could do for Mom.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” He asked.  Craig calling me ‘kiddo’ sounded funny, but I liked it.  It made me feel safe, for some reason.  I really do wish he was my real Dad, but that’s so thirsty.  I try to work it in sometimes because it makes me happy, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

There’s something about just being around Craig that makes me feel like a little kid and a grownup all at the same time.  Maybe that’s why he’s so special, because he knows just what to do or say to help me be…better?  It’s hard to describe, but he makes me feel good in so many different ways.  Is that how kids with normal dads who actually love them feel all the time?  I should ask Noah and Cam. 

“I know the words I need to say.  Mr. Tim even made me write an apology letter for how I treated her at school.  He was really mad,” I explained.  I wondered if Tim would have paddled me if he was allowed, although I’m not sure he needed to.  He may be even better than Craig at laying a guilt trip.  “But words don’t seem like enough.  I feel like I need to make a big gesture, like Cam did for me.”

He thought for a moment.  “Why don’t you surprise her by making dinner?” he suggested.  “You could even use my famous spaghetti and meatball recipe!” he added.  “It’s gotten me out of trouble with Kim before.  It has magical properties!” 

That’s an awesome thought, and I love him, but sometimes he is such a dork.  “You’re so cringey,” I giggled, knowing he would understand I was only teasing.  He tickled me in response.  “But, that’s a great idea.  Would you mind helping me remember everything?”  I was pretty sure we had all the ingredients.  Mom keeps lots of things on-hand.  “Could you please run me to the store if we don’t have everything?  I have cash.” I added.  I didn’t want him to think I was just using him.  I wanted to do this right, and needed to be responsible for everything. 

“Of course,” he answered.

I was eager to make up with Mom.  It’s exhausting being constantly angry, and I felt bad having been such a dick.  Still, I need her to know I don’t agree and won’t accept her attitude about us not having sex.  I needed advice on how to approach it. 

“I know I owe Mom a major apology,” I began.  “But…”

“What is it?”

“I understand why she freaked, and I didn’t handle it well, but I still strongly disagree with her rule about Cam and I, you know, not doing stuff.”

“I get it, but that’s a pretty standard response from most adults, especially moms,” he replied.  “If you give her time, I think she’ll soften.  I’ll try to talk to her about it, if you want.”

I couldn’t believe Craig was willing to risk talking with Mom about this.  Could he really persuade her that Cam and I being sexually active wasn’t completely inappropriate?  “Really?  Would you?  If there’s anyone who can convince her, it’s you!”

“Hey, no guarantees.  Parents have a visceral reaction to their kids having sex, particularly when they’re young.  It’s evolutionary,” he explained.  Yeah, yeah, I know adults don’t like when kids have sex even though that attitude is completely hypocritical and it doesn’t affect them.  “It may do no good, but I’m willing to have the conversation with her when the time is right.”

“Thanks.  You’re the best,” I said, beaming.  “Race you to the kitchen!”

***

I’ve always liked cooking.  I know people who think it’s a girly thing to be into, but they’re dumbasses.  Since I have to eat healthy for gymnastics, it takes effort to come up with something that still tastes good without having too many calories.

Craig called out the ingredients as he wrote them down.  I pulled them out of the pantry as he went through the list.  We had everything for the sauce and just needed some Italian sausage for the meatballs.  Unfortunately, the hamburger was frozen, so Craig said he would get more at the store since he was already going.

I tried to give him cash to pay for the groceries, but Craig wouldn’t let me.  I think it makes him feel good to help me in whatever small ways he can, so I don’t argue.  As long as he doesn’t think I’m using him for free stuff. 

***

I quickly combined the ingredients for the sauce and had it simmering.  It didn’t take long.  I had a few minutes to kill and considered fine-tuning my apology letter, but remembered something else to take care of:  Mom’s dildo.  It was still under my bed.  I’m not sure what made me think of it, but now that I was over being angry with Mom, I felt really creepy having used it to pleasure myself.  What was I thinking?  Maybe Noah was right when he said it seemed twisted.  I needed to return it to her nightstand. 

I ran to my room and pulled it out from under the bed.  I thoroughly washed it with soap and water and put it back just how I found it a few days ago.  I felt a little sad losing my easy access, because it really does feel nice, but hopefully I’ll get the real thing from Cam.  If not, I’m sure Craig would help me get one of my own. 

I returned to the kitchen and stirred the sauce, which smelled great.  Dinner was going to turn out well.  I was excited to see the look on her face and give her a real hug.  I knew I’d feel relieved after I apologized, and how happy my heartfelt gestures would make her.  It made me smile.

I winced when I recalled repeatedly criticizing her drinking.  I remembered the contorted look on her face when I called her a ‘stupid, alcoholic bitch’ who would know about me having gay sex if she wasn’t constantly passed out drunk.  I don’t like how often she drinks, or how much, but know it could be way worse.  She isn’t that bad. 

Jamie’s bio dad is a true alcoholic.  When we were younger, Jamie would tell me how he would get drunk, belligerent, and pass out on the couch every day.  At the time, it made my asshole of a father seem not-so-bad in comparison.  A few years ago, he got so drunk he crashed his car and was arrested for his third DWI. 

Everyone knew about it and some kids were jerks to him.  I remember one recess in fifth grade, a couple of days after the accident, having to coax a sobbing Jamie from under the big tire swing.  Someone made a rude comment and he freaked out.  The noon duties couldn’t convince him, but I crawled to sit with him and finally convinced him to follow me to the counselor’s office. 

That recollection caused me to have a flashback.  In sixth grade, when my dad was arrested, no one knew what to say.  I never got bullied, but even the adults were at a loss.  Jamie came up to me the morning after it broke in the local news and gave me a silent fist bump.  He didn’t say a word, but I’ll never forget the look on his face.  He understood… and we’ve been even tighter ever since.

Anyway, Mom would never let me spend the night at Jamie’s back then because she didn’t trust the ‘adult supervision’.  After the final DWI, his mom kicked out the boozer and married his step-dad, Wyatt, a year later.  Jamie is obsessed with him.  I never thought about it before, but maybe Wyatt is to Jamie what Craig has become for me? 

It made me ashamed to recall the things I said, and I knew dinner wasn’t enough.  Still, I didn’t question whether it would work.  Moms are just like that; they forgive no matter what, even if you don’t deserve it.  I hoped she thought my efforts would make up for my bratty behavior.

I remembered seeing the bottles of wine she boxed up, and knew people often drink with an Italian meal.  What better way to make a peace offering than having a bottle at the table?  I have no idea what goes well with pasta, but Craig would.  I ran down to the garage to retrieve her stock. 

*** 

I was rummaging through the box when Craig returned.  “What kind of wine goes with magical spaghetti?” I asked.  “Wine and Italian food are a thing, right?”

“Yep,” he answered with a smile.  “You need a good red.”

“Can you help?  I don’t know anything about wine,” I requested.

I know it’s silly and unnecessary, but I couldn’t help myself.  I batted my eyes and gave him the helpless puppy look.  I know Craig always melts when I do that.  He eats up being able to help me, plus it lets me feel vulnerable and like I actually have a father who doesn’t despise my existence. 

Craig examined the wine while I unwrapped the meat.  He picked up garlic bread and salad, too.  I truly needed to pay him back but knew he wouldn’t accept my money - or my mouth, for that matter.  Craig selected a bottle and opened it.  I was glad, because I would have had no clue how to use a corkscrew. 

“Do you want help with the meatballs?” he asked.

I was worried about messing up, but needed to tackle the task on my own.  It would be more meaningful if I could explain to Mom I did it all by myself.  Besides, he’d already done way more than needed.  I just hoped he wouldn’t be hurt that I didn’t want more assistance.  “Honestly, I think it would mean more if I did it all on my own.”

“I understand,” he answered.  “Let me jot down the ingredients for you.  Just be careful to make them the right size.”

I couldn’t resist being a wiseass.  “I know you like small balls,” I quipped.  “But I bet Mom will appreciate bigger ones.” 

He laughed.  “Okay.  Have everything ready and just cook the pasta when she gets home.  That way it’s all fresh.  I’ll find a subtle way to tell her not to pick up dinner.” 

“Thanks,” I answered.  I was glad he thought of that.  It would ruin everything if Mom showed up with carryout.

Craig stayed for a few more minutes and asked me about my day.  I told him more details and gushed about how awesome it was to spend all day with Mr. Tim, even if the circumstances sucked.  I told him I was going to review my apology letter and maybe write it with neater handwriting and in pen.  I kind of rushed it at school and it erased a few things, plus it was in pencil.  I remembered from my research when I wrote Cam and Craig apology notes a few weeks ago that doing it in pencil is considered tacky.

“I guess I should leave you to work,” he answered once I’d run out of things to tell him.

“Yes, sir,” I answered.  “Thanks for always being there… Dad,” I added. 

“Good luck with your Mom.  I’m sure it will all work out,” he answered, completely beaming

“How could it not?” I answered, laughing.  He looked confused.  “I mean it IS a magical recipe, right?” I added with an obvious sarcastic eye roll.

“Who’s cringey now?” he teased.

“Hey, you’re a bad influence!  Your corniness is rubbing off,” I answered with a grin. 

He gave me one last hug and added a kiss to my forehead, both of which I loved.  “I love you, sweet boy.  Make me proud,” he instructed as he ruffled my hair and made his exit.

***

Once the meatballs were cooked, I added them to the sauce and quickly cleaned the kitchen.

I retreated to my room and went to work on the letter.  I sat at my desk and made some corrections and tried to think of more things to add.  As I peered around my room, deep in thought, I spied the green and purple duck on my window ledge.  I think I already told you about that.  Mom let me plug five dollars into a claw machine when I was in second grade, and I eventually won it.  I’m sure the thing didn’t cost a dollar to make, but at the time, I felt so cool and like I’d won the lottery.  Of course, we couldn’t tell Dad about it because he would be livid at wasting his ‘hard earned money’.

I named him Lundy, because that was the grocery store we were at when I captured him.  Lundy was our secret and even became a code between us.  If Mom wanted me to not share something with Dad, she might whisper ‘quack quack’.  Or one of us might walk like a duck to transmit the same message.  I know it might sound corny, but I decided I would put the duck on the table and have it holding my letter.  Not that the apology was a secret, but the duck had sentimental value and shared meaning for both of us.  It was the perfect peace offering, and like dinner, made my apology more heartfelt.

I rewrote the edited letter in my nicest handwriting, folded it neatly, and wrote ‘Mom’ on the outside.  I grabbed everything and headed downstairs.  I set the letter and stuffed animal beside Mom’s spot at the kitchen table.  With the duck sitting on its legs, the webbed feet held the letter perfectly.  I know it’s stupid, but I was impressed by how cute it looked.  No way it wouldn’t make her a blubbering mess.

Now all I had to do was wait and consider exactly what to say.  I stirred the sauce and meatballs, which smelled amazing.  I got the spaghetti and garlic bread ready, but was in a holding pattern.  I thought about reading more of Count of Monte Cristo, but was too anxious to focus.  I turned on the TV and scanned channels.  I landed on Wheel of Fortune.  When she would visit, I used to sit in Grandma’s lap and watch with her.  She never missed an episode, and I found Pat Sajak’s voice calming.  I couldn’t recall if watching TV was part of my grounding, but knew I could stop as soon as I heard the garage door.  Besides, it was mostly background noise. 

As the TV blared, my mind raced.  How would Mom react?  Is there any chance she might not be the tearful and forgiving parent I expected and hoped for?  I was almost certain she would react positively, but damn, what I said to her on the way out of the office this morning was vicious.  I’m lucky she didn’t bend me over the table and spank me right there at school in front of everyone.  Maybe she’s been brooding all day and would just come in, ready to pounce and discipline me further for being so disrespectful.  I would have to be ready to react calmly if she was angry so as to not escalate things and get through my amends.

I wondered what Cam was doing.  Is his Mom easing up?  I can’t wait until we can hang out.  I am sure we will stay up all night talking.  I have so many things to share with him, although some of those conversations would be awkward and embarrassing.  I’m not proud about hooking up with Chad, being so mean to Mom, using her vibrator, or getting spanked by Craig, but I owe it to Cam to be completely transparent.  We can’t have any more secrets, ever.  I didn’t know how he’d react, but was sure he’d be pissed at me for being rude.  Cam is really big on having good manners and always being polite and respectful to adults. 

I was looking forward to two more days with Mr. Tim, but began imagining what it might be like in the halls in the morning.  Jamie, Austin, and the other guys would probably be cool, and it would be nice to see Seb.  However, Aidan and the rest of Brady’s friends might be assholes, and some of the teachers are clearly homophobes.  Would they make snide comments if they saw me?  What about other kids I don’t really know?  Surely the entire school knew what happened even if they weren’t there.  I hoped to run into Ashley.  She’s a badass and I know she has my back.  Her friends wouldn’t be bad to chill with, either.  Hanging out with girls would be much safer, that’s for sure. 

The one thing that would make me feel better and confident would be if Noah was with me.  I wouldn’t be scared of anything with him.  I know it sounds ridiculous, but being with Noah makes me feel almost invincible. 

I never had anyone say anything to me about Dad.  Kids had to know.  Was it they respected me that much?  Maybe they were afraid of Noah - not that he would beat the shit out of them, but that he would disapprove.  Noah may not be middle school royalty, but he does kind of have that effect on peers because he just projects this…quiet dignity.

***

My thoughts were brought back to the task at hand with the sound of the garage door.  I ran for the remote to click off the TV, remembering to return it to the channel she had on last.  I waited in the kitchen because I thought it would be weird to be waiting for her to walk up the stairs.

I leaned against the counter and waited.  “Max, honey, I’m home,” she announced as she mounted the stairs.  She didn’t sound angry.  “Hmm… it smells good in here,” she commented to herself.  “Max,” she yelled.

“In the kitchen,” I responded, almost choking on my words.  I suddenly had a frog in my throat.  I hadn’t even faced her and was already beginning to get emotional.

“What are you making?  It smells incredible,” she commented.  I couldn’t answer.  I was a mess, so I did the next best thing.  I gave her the biggest, most sincere hug I could.  I squeezed her tight as tears rolled down my face onto her shoulders. 

“Sweetie, are you okay?  Did something happen?”

I took a few deep breaths.  “Nothing happened.  I’m good.  I realized I’ve been treating you horribly and feel awful,” I managed to say softly between cries.

She hugged me tight without responding.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you and I said so many mean things.  I’m sorry, Mommy.”

She rubbed my back.  “I know it’s not much, but I made dinner.  It’s Craig’s spaghetti and meatballs, but I made it all on my own.  He says the recipe is magical and can get anyone out of the dog house.”

She laughed.  “Well, it smells fantastic.  But your hug means more to me than any food.”

“Thanks,” I answered.  “Please, sit.”  With my arm around her I walked her to her place at the table.  I poured some wine into an empty glass.  “Craig said this was a good pairing, whatever that means.”  I commented. 

She took a sip.  “It is.”  I saw her spot Lundy (the duck). 

“I wrote you a letter,” I said.  “I’ll finish dinner while you read it and relax.”

***

I turned up the heat on the pot of water and put the garlic toast on a baking sheet.  I tried to watch from the corner of my eye as she read.  I didn’t want to stare.  I could see tears forming.  By the time I retrieved the salad from the fridge, her upper lip was quivering and she was crying.  But I felt good, knowing these tears I caused were for a positive reason. 

“Oh Max,” she said looking at me with pure adulation.  She approached me and wrapped her arms around me from behind.  I could smell her familiar perfume.  “I’m so happy right now,” she said as she squeezed me tight.

I clasped my hands on top of hers.  “I’m glad,” I replied.  “I know you didn’t deserve how I treated you.  I was being bad and I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.”

“My precious boy,” she whispered.  “I knew that wasn’t the Max I’ve known for 14 years.  For a minute, I was afraid you might be… turning into your father.”

I turned to face her, breaking free from our hug.  We locked eyes.  “Don’t worry.  I promise never to turn into him.”  She smiled and wiped the last of her tears.  Maybe Noah is a bad influence, but I couldn’t resist making a small joke.  “Besides, I don’t like girls of ANY age.”  Mom grinned and stifled a laugh.  I know it’s nothing to laugh about, but sometimes, humor can be the best medicine.

***

We enjoyed our salad while the spaghetti finished cooking.  Mom asked me about ISS and I told her how it wasn’t as awful as I expected, mostly because Mr. Tim is the coolest.  Mom nodded.  “He seems really good at what he does.  It’s people like him that make a school special,” she commented.  “When I was in school, there were always a few teachers that you knew were different, who truly cared.  Mr. Tim seems like one of those people.”

“Definitely,” I replied.  “He helped straighten me out.  I would have come around on my own, but it happened faster because he called me out for how rude I was to you in the meeting.  He’s just like Craig, you just don’t want to disappoint him.”  She nodded.  “Craig was pissed too.  When he accosted me for the things I said, I was so embarrassed.”  

She gripped my hand.  “I’m sorry I shared so much with Craig, but I wasn’t sure anyone else could reach you.  I didn’t know Mr. Tim was already on your case.”

“It’s okay.  I don’t like keeping secrets from Craig,” I replied.  “He’s like my Dad - a real one who actually cares - and I don’t want to disappoint him.” 

She nodded.  “I’m so glad you’ve lucked into such amazing male role models.  Lord knows your father wasn’t.”

***

I dished up our plates and served her.  Mom took one bite and her reaction was gold.  “Holy… this is fantastic!  My son, the chef!” she commented.  I know parents are usually inclined to make a fuss over whatever their kids do, but I could tell it was genuine.  To be honest, my meatballs tasted even better than those I had at Craig’s, and they were pretty amazing then.

“Hold on,” she said after taking another bite.  She stood, and I wasn’t sure what she was doing.  I thought maybe she was going to take a picture to put on Facebook or something.  That would have been a total Mom move, and embarrassing, but I wouldn’t have objected. 

That wasn’t it.  She went to the cupboard and returned with another wine glass.  She sat it in front of me and poured a small amount from the bottle.  I looked at her, confused.  “I think you’re old enough to enjoy a little vino.  You made a fantastic meal and this makes it truly out of this world.  Besides, I think a toast is in order.”

I hesitantly picked up the glass.  “Smell it before you taste,” she instructed. 

I took a sniff.  “I smell cherries,” I said. 

“Yes, and a hint of cocoa I think,” she answered.  I took another sniff.  She was right.  “Take a little sip.”

I tried it.  It tasted stronger than I expected and my face scrunched.  But, it wasn’t horrible.  “Not bad,” I said.  I didn’t love it, but I could get used to it.  Still, if Mom was going to treat me more like an adult, I was determined to finish.  She was letting me do something special.  I wasn’t about to act like I didn’t care for it.

“This is very good.  Craig chose well,” she answered.  “Still, I think after tonight I will abstain.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I answered.  I didn’t want her to give up something she enjoyed because I made stupid comments.

“No, baby, I need to.  It makes you uncomfortable and besides, it’s good to give up things you like sometimes.  It makes you appreciate them more when you can indulge,” she explained.  “And I want you to understand I’ll do anything to make you feel better.  To us,” she said, raising her glass.  “To a healthy, successful year.  May you excel at school and gymnastics, and being the great young man everyone else sees - even when you don’t.”

We clinked our glasses and sipped.  I don’t know if it was intentional, but her words about giving up something you like so it’s more special when you do get to experience it made me think of Cam in particular and sex in general.  I took a bigger gulp this time and the wine caused me to blush.  I suddenly felt warmth.  “Thanks Mom.  I can’t wait to get back to the gym.”

“I know.  It will give you something to occupy yourself.  Maybe I can take you early on Wednesday, so you can spend some time with your friends before practice starts.”  Wednesday?  I knew practice started this week, but I wasn’t sure Mom was allowing me to go.  I was elated.  I would see Cam!

“I’m sure Cam will be just as happy,” she said.  “To you and Cam and the rest of your team.  You guys will have a great season.”  I wasn’t sure how to respond.  Talking about Cam was one step closer to talking about sex and I didn’t want to go there.  I just smiled.

***

After dinner, Mom insisted on cleaning up.  I grabbed my book and read several chapters.  I loved this story.  I started thinking again about tomorrow - how I would deal with school.  It started making me nervous.  I was really dreading the bus ride.  There are three or four losers on our route.  They would be just the types to start shit.

I waited until Mom showered and knocked on her door.  She was lying in bed reading a magazine.  “Hi sweetie, I was just about to come say goodnight.”  

I crawled into bed next to her.  She brushed my hair from my forehead and smiled.  “You’re due for a haircut.  It’s getting a little wild.  Maybe we should get it trimmed tomorrow night?” she suggested.  It was another peace offering.  She was right though; it was starting to look shaggy.  There’s been so much going on the last few weeks, it was the least of my worries, even though I usually get a fresh cut before school starts.  I think the Mexican sun really sped its growth. 

“Sure,” I answered, before changing the subject.  “Mom, can I ask a favor?”

“Absolutely,” she answered.  “As long as it isn’t about getting ungrounded early.  You know I forgive you, but parents have to stick to their discipline.”

I shook my head.  “No, it isn’t that.  I didn’t apologize to get you to change your mind.  I know I was bad and deserve to be punished,” I offered.  If not for why I was initially grounded, definitely for how I behaved after.  I wasn’t sure whether to be offended over her potentially thinking I was trying to manipulate her, but I guess I can’t blame her for wondering.  “Can you please take me to school in the morning?  I’m kinda nervous to ride the bus, now that… you know… everyone knows.”

“Sure, but you’re going to have to deal with it sometime.”

“I know, I just thought I’d ease into things.  Since we were so good today, Mr. Tim is allowing us to see our friends before ISS.  I’ll see how that goes, but I don’t want to be trapped on a bus the first time I’m around other kids.  I’ll talk to him if things are rough.”

“That’s reasonable.  Just be proud of who you are.  Don’t let them know their remarks bother you.  If they see they are getting to you, they’ll keep going.  Hold your chin high,” she said as she grabbed mine and looked me straight in the eyes.  “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thanks,” I answered as I cuddled up against her.  I felt so relaxed, curled next to Mom, just like when I was little.  Except this time there was no grumpy asshole yelling to take me back to my room so he could sleep.  I didn’t want to leave.

We stayed like that for a few more moments.  I felt a little sheepish asking, but knew I needed the reassurance it would bring.  “Do you mind if I sleep in here with you tonight?”

She looked at me with both surprise and eagerness.  “Of course.  Do you want me to tuck you in like old times?”

“Yes please,” I responded as I slipped off my shirt.  She got up and pulled the covers over my torso, gently pressing them around and under me. 

“Thanks, Mom.”

She kissed my cheek, tickled my stomach, and turned off the lamp.  “I love you, Maxwell.  Sleep well.”

***

I awoke to the smell of pancakes and sausage wafting through the air.  It’s one of my favorite breakfasts.  Mom will sometimes make them on weekends, especially if I have a friend over, but to make them on a school and work day was not typical.  It made me happy.  It was just one more sign she accepted my apology and things were good between us.

As I climbed out of bed, I realized I had a bad case of morning wood.  Faint recollections of a dream about Cam drifted through my mind, but I couldn’t quite pick out the details.  No matter, I’d be seeing Cam tomorrow night.  I quickly showered and found a clean pair of shorts and my Minnesota Timberwolves jersey that matched.  I’m not a big basketball fan, but a friend gave it to me for my birthday and I haven’t worn it yet.  If I was going to brave the halls as the Gay Kid, I was going to look put together and confident.  I put some gel in my hair and ran down.  The pancakes had waited long enough. 

“I wasn’t sure what kind you’d prefer, but the bananas were getting ripe, so that’s what I made,” Mom explained.

I gave her a hug.  “Perfect,” I replied.  “I’ll take any kind of pancake on a Tuesday.  Thanks.”

***

On the way to school, Mom began probing.  “Do you think Cam plans to tell his classmates at Widmer about you?” she asked.  I don’t think she was trying to be nosy.  She seemed genuinely curious.  “Do they have any dances you can attend?”

“I don’t know for sure.  I’ll have to ask,” I answered.  Her mention of Widmer reminded me that I hadn’t told her yet about Seb.  “With all the drama, I forgot to tell you about the new friend I made when he started school Friday,” I added, changing topics.  Deflecting to Seb was safer than getting into details about Cam and I.  I was hoping Craig could have that talk he promised to have with her, sooner rather than later.

I managed to fill the entire commute with details about Seb.  There was a lot to unpack:  he’s super smart, knows Cam, I took him to lunch and introduced him to my friends (who invited him to S.N.O.), and most importantly, how I was certain he was ‘that kid’ from the news story a couple weeks ago.

“News story?” Mom asked, not making the connection.

“You know, the one about the teacher who… did inappropriate things with a student and was arrested.”  I couldn’t bring myself to use the word ‘molested’.  It had too much of a negative connotation, and I didn’t know if it was an unwanted advance from the man.  What if Seb and the teacher were like Craig and I, and he was into everything?

“Oh my gosh,” she reacted.  “You didn’t say anything to him, did you?”

“Of course not,” I answered.  “I also stopped Noah from saying something.  He can tell us about it if he wants.  He and Cam are friendly.  I guess Cam stuck up for him with other students when it all became public and he was getting bullied.”  Adding positive deeds of Cam’s couldn’t hurt.

She looked at me, a huge smile spread across her face.  “You make me so proud,” she said.  “He’s lucky to have to found his way into such a good group of boys.”  It was nice adults always thought of us as nice, and I guess that’s true, but I had a sneaking suspicion he’d be servicing a bunch of my friends by Christmas.  We’re boys first, and need to get off.

Mom pulled into the drop-off lane.  I would normally just say goodbye and hop out, but I opted to give her a long, lingering hug instead.  After the last few days, it seemed only appropriate.  “Good luck sweetie,” she told me.

***

I slowly ambled into the building.  I wouldn’t say I was filled with dread, but my heart was definitely beating faster and I was more anxious than normal.  I had no idea what awaited me.  Without a way to check Instagram or Snapchat, or text, I was completely in the dark.

The car drop is on the far end of campus, by the music hall.  I didn’t really see anyone until I made my way into the main atrium, and even then, it was mostly a rush of bubbly sixth graders crossing through to their wing. 

I turned left and headed past the seventh-grade pod, at the end of which was the area for eighth grade lockers.  We only had a few days of school last week, but it was long enough to figure out where most of my friends’ lockers were located and to establish a routine before school.  Unfortunately, it was Noah’s locker that had been the hangout spot for us and with him out, I wasn’t sure what Plan B would be.  Ashley and her friends were assigned the next bank, so I headed their way.  She and I would have to head to ISS soon and could walk together.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm.  It alarmed me and I quickly turned, ready to face one of Brady’s friends or some other antagonist.  Thankfully, it was neither.  “Max!” a delighted Seb greeted me.  He seemed out of breath.  “I saw you walk past and had to catch-up.  Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“No, sorry man,” I answered.  I must have been focused on finding my way to Ashley’s hive.

“I thought you were suspended.  I’m so glad you’re back.”

I explained I was in ISS until Thursday.  The disappointment on his face was apparent.  “That sucks.  I was hoping you’d be at lunch… and in geometry.”  At least I knew I had one friend, even if it was an awkward ‘sevie’.  Not that I expected to be shunned by Seb.

I asked him what I missed in class and at lunch yesterday, before eventually excusing myself.  “All right,” he said, sounding disappointed.  “I guess I’ll see you Thursday.”

He offered up a fist for me to bump.  After we brushed knuckles, I gave him a half hug from the side.  “Stick with Jamie.  He’s a good guy,” I suggested, with a wink.  Was it only obvious to me there was mad chemistry between them?  He smiled before leaving.  I realized after that even a bro-hug from the campus queer might have been a bad idea, especially considering what he’s been through, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t mind.

I glanced around as I walked toward where Ashley’s crew loitered before class.  I noticed several people turn and stare at me.  The hallway seemed too quiet, as if my presence caused conversations to cease.  I know it’s super common for middle schoolers to assume everyone is talking about and judging them, but I swear that’s how it felt.  It may have been the longest walk of my life.  I paused and a couple people looked away.  Others were laughing and joking in small circles.  Perhaps I was imagining I was the focus, but that’s how it seemed. 

I quickened my pace, anxious for the company of friends.  I spotted Ashley amongst a large group.  Mariah and Jenny were there, as well as several other girls.  The guys must have thought the same, because Jamie and Austin had arrived, along with a couple other kids we hang with sometimes, Paxton and Reese. 

“Hey,” I said nervously as I approached. 

Mariah was the first to react.  “Max!” she exclaimed, looking me up and down checking out my clothes and smooth, muscular legs.  “You look awesome,” she added.  “Ashley was just telling us how you got ISS.” 

“Yeah, thanks, but I need a haircut badly,” I answered, adjusting the unruly mop of blonde hair atop my head.  I never let my hair grow out this long and it was starting to bug me. 

“I dunno...I think it’s hot,” Mariah answered, batting her eyes at me as she caressed my chest.  Wait, was she flirting?  “I can’t believe how ripped you are,” she said, as she ran her hands over my exposed arms and shoulders.  I’m sure Austin wasn’t happy about her being so forward.  He was desperate at S.N.O.  to get Mariah’s attention. 

“You’re wasting your time, Mariah.  Max only likes the D,” Reese said, laughing.  I couldn’t read him.  Was he dissing me?  Her?  Joking?  I mean, he is right… but what was his intent?  I knew I was overthinking things and probably reading too much into everything.  I’ve always considered him a friend, but it’s not like we ever do anything outside of school.  Whatever he meant, it made me uncomfortable to have him bring it up.

Mariah’s frown was enough to shut him up. 

“Hey Max,” Austin said, approaching and offering a high five, while managing to smile at Mariah.  “Glad you’re back.  Did you hear Brady is out all week?  You should see him going off on Snap.  The d-bag still thinks he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” Ashley added.  “So it’s not going to be him joining us today.”

“Good,” I answered.  I noticed Reese nudge Paxton and they both left, without a word.  Was being around the fag cramping their style?  It made me nervous.

The conversation quickly turned to mundane topics.  TV.  Music.  Next summer's trip to Europe - which Noah still wanted me to ask Craig about.  I mostly listened.  I felt out of touch, not having a phone for nearly five days.  That’s like a month in middle school. 

It was becoming increasingly crowded around us, as it was getting close to the warning bell.  A steady stream of kids was forcing their way through the constricted hallway.  I heard it distinctly: ‘homo’ and ‘fag’, casually disguised between fake coughs.  I turned around, but it was impossible to determine who said it.  It could have been anyone. 

Ashley shook her head and patted my shoulder.  “Ignore them,” she pleaded.  I must have looked concerned.  “Seriously, they’re losers and you’re awesome.  They aren’t worth your time.”

I nodded and took a deep breath.  Suddenly, something hit the back of my head.  It was a tampon.

I saw Amari and Jax, who I knew casually from elementary school.  I wasn’t really friends with either, but we never had beef, either.  They turned into losers a year or so ago when they started smoking pot.

“Hey Maxi Pad, I thought this was a fitting gift, now that you’re basically a chick and like dick inside you,” Jax bellowed.  I didn’t know if he was already stoned, but Amari was laughing maniacally.  “Maybe this will suck up your fag juice, so no other guys catch the homo.  Besides, you like putting things up your ass, so have fun.”

I didn’t have time to respond.  Before I knew it, Jamie slammed Jax against the locker and pinned him there.  “Not another word,” he threatened, between clinched teeth.  Austin stepped in front of me, blocking Amari.

Ashley picked up the tampon from the floor and threw it at Jax’s face.

“Jesus, you’re fucking stupid.  This is a tampon, not a pad, dumbass.  Even your attempt to make fun of his name with a lame pun makes no sense,” Ashley began.  “And girls put these in their vaginas, not their butts.  I know you have zero experience with pussy, but maybe learn some basics before you open your mouth and say moronic shit.  God help the first girl you get drunk enough to put out, because you’ll end up trying to put your microdick into the wrong hole.”

I stood, once again shocked at her vicious takedown.  Ashley is fucking incredible.  How does she think of stuff to say so quickly that is so on point?  I was in awe.  She’s normally so sweet, but it’s like she can flip this bitch switch and go off.  Jax thought he was going to embarrass me, but judging by the crowd reaction, he’s the one who was humiliated.

A crowd formed around us and there were hoots at Ashley’s insult.  Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice telling people to stop congregating and get to class.  It was Mr. Harrison, my social studies teacher. 

“Maybe I should get to ISS,” I announced.  Escaping to the comfort of Mr. Tim sounded really appealing, and I didn’t want to lose my shit in front of everyone.

“Me too,” Ashley answered.  “Let’s go together.”

***

“You okay?” she asked once we made our way out of the congestion. 

“Yeah,” I answered, sighing.  “I think so.”  I realized I had broken into a sweat.

“Don’t let the shitheads bother you,” she said, placing an arm around my shoulder as we walked.  “You are SO much better than any of those homophobic losers.”

***

Mr. Tim was sitting at his desk when we entered the ISS room.  “Good morning,” he greeted us, in his typical cheerful demeanor.  “How are you doing this morning?”

I plopped in my chair.  Ashley and I exchanged glances.  “I’m good,” I muttered.  I’d just started calming down and didn’t want to rehash what just happened. 

“No complaints,” Ashley added, throwing me another glance.  “Thanks again for letting us see our friends this morning.”

“You’re welcome, but I don't buy it,” he replied.  “Those were two of the most insincere replies I’ve ever heard.  What’s going on?”  You really can’t hide anything from Mr. Tim. 

“Some kids were just harassing Max,” Ashley said.

“It’s no big deal.  I’m fine,” I added, trying to act cool.  “I don’t want it to become a thing.  It’s not worth it.”

“Why don’t you let me decide how big of a deal it was?  Tell me what happened.”

Ashley recalled the tampon incident, paraphrasing the gist of Jax’s pathetic attempt at being funny.  Mr. Tim must have thought it was just as dumb as Ashley, because he rolled his eyes and seemed confused.  “Some kids are clueless,” he commented.

Ashley managed to leave out the part about Jamie pushing Jax up against the locker, as well as omitting the details of her epic comeback.  I don’t think he would approve of some of her language choices, or with Jamie getting physical.  I was glad she left out those parts.  I tried to remember some of what she said.  ‘Micro dick’ was the term that stood out.  That was merciless.  I couldn’t help but grin thinking about it.

“Unfortunately, I’m not surprised something like that happened.  It was probably inevitable.  It’s one of the reasons I gave you two passes this morning, to gauge how people would react to seeing Max for the first time.  I figured if there were problems, I could help squash it before you’re back in class,” he said.  I guess that made sense.  I was using it as a test run, too.  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Maybe later,” I answered.  I wanted to put it out of my mind. 

“It’s your choice.  If you change your mind, or want me to deal with Jax, let me know,” he relented.  “It’s time to get to work.  Both of you have a few additional assignments to work on before your work detail.” 

***

We’d been working for about 45 minutes when Mr. Tim excused himself.

“Normally I wouldn’t do this, but I’m sure I can trust you to work diligently on your own for a moment.  I need to run to the office.  I’ll be back in two minutes.  Do not disappoint me.”

Once, he was gone, I glanced around the side of my desk to Ashley.  She returned my smile.  “‘Micro dick’?” I whispered and started laughing.

“Shhh,” Ashley replied, before giggling.  “What if Mr. Tim is watching somehow?” she responded.  I looked around.  I guess there might be a camera or he could have turned on his computer mic.  I didn’t want to let him down. 

She held up a hand, her thumb and index finger about an inch apart.  “Jax’s dick,” she mouthed.  We both almost lost it!  It required all our energy not to laugh hysterically - just in case Mr. Tim was monitoring us.  I was tempted to signal back just how well-endowed Noah is for our age, but didn’t think that would be appropriate. 

***

“Here we are,” Mr. Tim announced, as he held the door open.  “Take the seat on the other side of Max,” he instructed.  I turned to see who was joining us.  I was overjoyed when I saw Spencer, a stuffed backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Max!” he exclaimed.  “I thought you were suspended!”

I wasn’t sure how Mr. Tim would feel about us talking.  It was against the ISS rules.  I looked over to check.  “As you can see, he is here.  Take your seat, Mr. Schwab.  Also, there is no talking in ISS.” 

Spencer looked dejected.  I could tell he was ready to talk my ear off about something.  I gave him a thumbs up to let him know it was okay.  Hopefully, we can do some chores like Mr. Tim mentioned, which might give us a chance to chat. 

***

The morning went by quickly, but man what a difference it was with Spencer in the room.  Yesterday was quiet and chill.  Spencer practically bounces in his seat.  He can’t sit still and is constantly humming or tapping his pencil.  Mr. Tim had to remind him to be quiet multiple times, and I could tell he was getting irritated.

Are all sixth graders like this, or just Spence?  I don’t remember being so wiggly when I was his age.  He’s always been full of energy at the gym, but then again, everyone is active there so it isn’t annoying.  I’d never thought of him as particularly hyper. 

Remember how I had to coax him into the hot tub at Cam’s?  He was so hesitant and shy.  As I thought about it, I realized that ever since then, his confidence has exploded.  Being honest about his sexuality, even if it is just to a few of us, seems to have enabled his busting out of his shell in other ways.  As I observed him, I wished some of his timidity would make a reappearance.  I’ve seen Spence be squirmy before, but that’s when I’m fucking him so he had good reason to be writhing around.

I finished my work and resumed reading when I noticed movement from Spencer.  When I glanced over his hand was in his pocket and it was obvious he was pleasuring himself.  He noticed I was looking and grinned before thrusting his hips a few times.  Jesus, he’s a horny bastard!  I had to look away.  I glared, which he must not have expected, because he looked hurt.  “Focus,” I mouthed as I pointed to his math worksheet.  I didn’t like the idea that Mr. Tim would have to deal with one of my friends being a pain-in-the-ass. 

***

I finished a long chapter and we still had over an hour before lunch.  I thought it would be a good time to talk with Mr. Tim about what happened earlier.  It was still unsettling and like talking with Craig, I knew he would make me feel better.

I approached Mr. Tim.  “Can we please talk?” I asked.  “Maybe in the hall?”

He nodded.  “Max and I are stepping out,” he announced.  “I’ll be watching through the window in the door,” he added, clearly speaking more to Spencer than Ashley.

I followed him into the empty vestibule.  “So, are you really okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered with a shrug.

“You don’t seem so sure, but that’s understandable.  Having someone throw a tampon at you certainly wasn’t on my bingo card.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Yeah, I mean when someone walked by and coughed ‘homo’ and ‘fag’, it sucked, but that was the kind of thing I braced myself for.  The maxi-pad/tampon thing took me off guard.”

“I’m glad to hear that you weren’t expecting things to be easy.  I hate to say it, but middle schoolers can be brutal.  They love finding someone who is different and hone in on whatever it is.  It’s a way for them to deal with their own self-esteem issues.  At least you have friends sticking up for you.  That has to be a relief.”

He was right.  If Ashley and Jamie hadn’t had my back, I’d feel a lot worse.  I might have fled in shame.  “Yeah, for sure.  Ashley is awesome and I know Jamie and Noah will be there.  Even Austin stood in front of me to block Amari.  But, some kids I thought were my friends seemed weirded out.  Reese and Paxton left as soon as I arrived, like they didn’t want to hang out near me.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  It might take some people time to get used to the reality of having a gay classmate.  Old friendships often dissolve and new ones form throughout adolescence, as everyone finds themselves.  That happens even without the added complication of being gay.  I know it’s easier said than done, but you can’t stress over it,” he explained.  “It sucks, but it’s part of growing up.  As long as you have a core group supporting you, you’re still better off than a lot of kids, right?”

I nodded.  He had a point.  Some kids struggle making any friends.

He continued.  “Some of the people avoiding you now might come back once everything settles.  Trust me, these first days will be the worst.  The key is to not let them see it’s bothering you, even if it is.  If they realize they can’t get you worked up, they’ll stop wasting their time and move on to something, or someone, else.  Do you think you can do that?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I replied.

Mr. Tim glanced in the window to make sure everything was okay in the ISS room.  He looked pissed and banged on the door.  I glanced and saw Spencer, out of his seat, standing by Ashley. 

“Good.  You can come talk to me anytime.  I’ll tell your teachers you have a hot pass to see me.”

“‘Hot pass’?” I asked.

“Basically, it lets you leave class to come to me or your counselor if you’re getting angry or overwhelmed, and need a break or to talk to a trusted adult,” he explained.  “Just don’t abuse the privilege, or you lose it and get into trouble.  That would… upset me.”

“Oh.  I won’t, I promise.  Thanks for always being willing to help me.  I appreciate it.”

“No problem.  Any time.  Also, before we go back in, there’s one more thing you may not have considered.”

“What?”

“Being out and proud sends a message.  There are probably a few dozen kids in this school who are starting to realize, or at least wonder, if they are attracted to the same-sex.  Seeing someone as popular and well-respected as Max Coleman handling coming out with grace and confidence could mean a lot as they come to grips with everything themselves.  Fair or not, your social standing makes you a role model.  Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” I answered.  “I never thought of myself as a role model or even all that popular.”

Mr. Tim laughed.  “Think again, my dude.  You are a fantastic role model and popular with both kids and adults.  I can’t believe you don’t see it yourself, but maybe that genuine humility is part of your charm.”

I’m sure I blushed, but was so glad we talked.  Like Craig, Mr. Tim always knows just what to say to make you feel better and gain perspective. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he added, “How did everything go with your mom last night.  Did you give her your apology?”

Tim listened and nodded his satisfaction as I told him about how well my apology went over, including the spaghetti dinner and anecdote about the duck.

*** 

What a difference a couple hours makes.  I was miserable after the tampon incident, but now I was practically elated.  Me, a role model?  Popular?  Who knew?  I guess he was right, though.  I knew teachers liked and trusted me, but I didn’t realize other kids held me in such high esteem.  Though, Spencer certainly has always looked up to me, especially lately.  I assumed it was more a crush than anything.  Still, I never imagined myself being a role model for younger gay kids, but I have to admit, now that I was outed to the whole school, there might as well be something positive to come from it.  Now that I think of it, when I told Craig about Brett, he hinted at the same thing. 

I realized I needed to take a leak.  “Can I use the restroom, please?” I asked.

Spencer immediately stood and said he needed to go, too.

“One at a time,” Mr. Tim answered, handing me the ISS pass, which was an old, red mesh jersey you’d use in PE to differentiate which team you were on.  I grimaced when I thought about how many people had slipped it over their shoulder or when it was last washed.  Spencer slithered back into his chair, pouting.

“On second thought,” Mr. Tim said, observing him.  “Maybe it would be better if Spencer had a responsible escort.”  I didn’t know if this was an attempt to reinforce the notion that I was a role model, or if Mr. Tim didn’t think he could trust Spencer to go to the bathroom alone.  Spencer has been antsy, but he’s not really bad.  I wondered if I should vouch for Spencer, so Mr. Tim would know he’s okay - even if he does struggle to sit still.

Spencer seemed thrilled as we exited the ISS room.  “Thank God,” he whimpered.  “How do you sit silently in one room all day and not go crazy?”  

“I dunno,” I shrugged.  “It’s not that hard.  Mr. Tim is awesome and I hope you don’t get yourself in trouble.  He’s definitely someone you want on your side,” I said, practically lecturing my sidekick.  “So, knock off playing with yourself through your pocket and get busy with your schoolwork.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.  I’m just horny,” he whispered as we ducked into the bathroom next to the lunch room.  “And I might have forgotten to take my meds today.”

“You’re always horny, Spencer,” I replied, with a hint of exasperation, once we were in the confines of the bathroom.  I had no idea he was one of those kids who took pills to focus.

“Hey,” he said, bending down to check the stalls.  “We could suck each other real fast.”

“What?  No!”  I replied adamantly.

“Please!” he begged.  “I’m so horned up I can’t focus.  I’ll be much better behaved if I get off real fast.”  Jesus, he has a one-track mind.  “Maybe you can even fuck me if you’re quick.  I know we don’t have lube but I like it kind of rough, and I’m sure spit is fine.  Nobody is here.”

“No Spence,” I answered.  “I’m not going to risk offending Mr. Tim.  He sent us together to keep you out of trouble, not get us both suspended.”

He sighed in frustration.  He must have thought I’d go along with his plan.  “Listen,” I said as I stepped up to a urinal.  “If you need to get off, go in the last stall and jerk off.  I’ll wait outside.  Just be fast and quiet.  If anyone comes in, you’ll have to abort.”

“Really?” he asked, a smile cracking across his depraved freckled face.  I nodded.  “Thanks.  Are you sure you don’t want to join or watch?”  He’s shameless.

***

I took my time washing up and only had to wait a couple minutes before Spencer emerged, appearing quite pleased with himself.  “Much better,” he said with a wink.  “It’s way easier in public when there’s no clean up.  I want to shoot and all but still being dry is super convenient.”  His comment made me think this wasn’t the first time he’s masturbated at school, or other places he shouldn’t.  Maybe we need to talk about discretion.  I don’t want him to get into trouble.

We made our way back.  We were gone just long enough that Mr. Tim was concerned.  I could see relief on his face when we walked in the door.

“Sorry, took a little longer than I thought,” I commented.

“Yeah, I had to poop,” Spencer added unabashedly. 

Ashley glared at him and rolled her eyes.  I’m sure she was having some thought about the obnoxious immaturity of sixth grade boys.

Mr. Tim shook his head.  “Let’s see how much work you can get done before lunch.”

***

To Spencer’s credit, he was right about being able to focus better once he rubbed one out.  He put pencil to paper and cranked out more work in the next 45 minutes than he had all morning.  Mr. Tim looked at him and then me a couple times and smiled.  I’m sure he assumes I lectured Spence when we went to the bathroom or something, flexing my role model muscles.  I guess I did, but he’d have a stroke if he knew what Spencer suggested.

Just before the cafeteria opened, Tim sent us to get lunch together.  He said because we have been ‘easy clients’, he would let us talk quietly while we ate.  Even though he said it to all of us, he was looking squarely at Spencer.  It was his way of letting him know that his improved behavior the last hour was what earned the privilege.

Spencer’s energy immediately returned once we were a few feet down the hall.  “Hi Ashley,” he said in the most hyper fashion possible.  “Your burn of Brady was legendary.”

“Hey little dude,” she answered.  “You’re not so bad yourself.  Pretty ballsy for a fresh sixth grader like you to try to take on one of the biggest, meanest pricks in the school.”  It hadn’t dawned on me that the two never talked after everything went to shit on Friday, and wouldn’t even know one another.  Spencer was hanging out near us, but he wasn’t really in the middle of our group.

“Thanks,” he said proudly.  “Not as awesome as you making fun of his tiny dick.  That was hilarious.”

“It was pretty amazing Ashley,” I interjected.  “You should join the debate team.  Between Friday and this morning with Jax, I think you are a natural.”

“Jax?” Spencer asked.  “Who’s that?”

“Just some douche who made the mistake of dissing my boyfriend's best friend,” she quipped.

“You're so lucky,” Spencer replied.  “Noah is hot.  I’d let him fuck me anytime!” 

“Spence!  Dude,” I said, admonishing him.  He has no filter.  Noah would be mortified if he knew Spencer was fantasizing about him.

“What?” he asked, oblivious to what he did wrong.

“Too much, bro.”

“Wait, are all gymnasts gay or what?” Ashley asked with genuine confusion. 

“No, not at all.  And most of us aren’t so damn forward about it,” I said with a scowl directed right at Spencer.  “You should probably keep that to yourself.  Trust me, you need to get settled before you tell your whole new school you like cock.”

Spencer looked at me dismissively.  “It’s not like you didn’t already know,” he said.  Thanks Spencer, why don’t you just announce to Ashley we’ve repeatedly fucked?  “And Ashley is obviously cool with it or she wouldn’t be your friend, so what’s the problem?  I’m not telling the entire world.”  It would be dangerous, but sometimes I wished I had Spencer’s recent confidence. 

We arrived at the cafeteria and split up.  Spencer went right for pizza, while Ashley and I looked over the sandwiches.  “He’s something else,” Ashley whispered to me.  “I hope he survives to the seventh grade.  Does he have an off switch?”

“Seventh grade?  I’m not sure he’ll make it to Halloween,” I said grinning.  “Honestly though, he’s a loyal friend and tons of fun, he just needs to tone down his exuberance.”

***

Over lunch, Spencer was surprisingly quiet.  It allowed me to ask Ashley about her father’s attitude towards Noah, which I witnessed Friday.

“He’s still pissed,” she said, “but mom is working on him.  She let me tell her exactly what happened and I think she understands Noah didn’t do anything wrong.  Still, he doesn’t want me around anyone who gets in trouble.” 

“What are you going to do?” I asked.  “You still want to go with Noah?”

“Duh!  Of course.  Mom thinks I should invite him for dinner and he can butter up Daddy.”

Yikes.  Noah would be so nervous he’d wet himself.  Maybe I could tag along to be his wingman - he might actually need it, then. 

***

I read for a few minutes after lunch.  Mr. Tim took us down to the cafeteria after the final lunch period to wipe down the tables and sweep the floors.  I wouldn’t say it was fun, but at least it broke up the monotony and enabled us to move around.  It seemed to help Spencer work off his excess energy.  He was calm all afternoon.  I caught his eye a few times and smiled.  I think that’s called positive reinforcement.

Just after the final period began, Mr. Tim called me to his desk and wrote out a pass.  “Mrs. Hickman would like to see you,” he said.  “Be sure to come back before you leave.”

Mrs. Hickman?  What did she want?  I still wasn’t sure what to think of her after last week.  I hated her one day and was starting to appreciate her the next.

I tapped on her open door.  “Mr. Coleman,” she said sternly, looking up from her desk.  “Come in and sit down.”

I took the seat next to her desk.  “You wanted to see me?”

“Indeed I do.”  She sounded angry.  “I understand you got into some trouble Friday evening,” she said pointedly. 

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.  “It was kind of a bad scene, but I promise I’m not a troublemaker.  This is the first time ever,” I explained as I looked away.

“Yes, I heard.  I’m glad you are only in ISS, and relax.  I know you aren’t a problem.  Are you getting your work done?”

“Yes ma’am,” I answered.  “I’m caught up.  At this point, I’m mostly reading Count of Monte Cristo.”

“Dumas.  Good choice,” she answered, seemingly impressed.  “So, word is you have a boyfriend from another school.”  Oh God.  Someone as dusty as Mrs. Hickman is not the person I wanted to be talking to about this.

“Um, yeah,” I answered.  “His name is Cam.  I guess that’s not something you had happening when you started teaching, huh?”

“I think you just called me old, Max.  Most students aren’t so brazen,” she said with a laugh.  FML.  “It’s certainly different now, thankfully.  Even 10 or 15 years ago there were very few kids who would dare come out in high school, much less middle school.”  It was so strange for someone as old-school and stern as her talking so matter-of-factly and even positively about homosexuality.  “Then more and more high schoolers came out and they just started to get younger and younger.  We’ve had a couple of kids at Olympia be open about their true selves over the years, but it’s still rare.  Certainly no one with your social capital.  My own son was 27 before he came out.” 

“Your...  son?” I asked.  Curve ball!

“Yes.  He and his husband live in New York.  They both work behind the scenes on Broadway.”  My mouth must have been hanging open in shock.  To quote Mr. Tim from earlier, Hickman having a gay child was NOT on my bingo card. 

“Don’t look so surprised.  I know Mr. Tim has talked with you, but I wanted you to know you have another ally in me, the mean old bitty everyone hates,” she added, grinning from ear to ear.  “It’s ridiculous, but I know not every educator is as accepting as Timothy and I.  They’re pretty few and far between, but if you ever have a problem with an adult, like you did Mrs. Bach, let me know and I would be delighted to take care of it.”

I didn’t know what to say.  She knew about how awful Bach was to me?

“I’m the matriarch of the school.  I hear all,” she explained.  “Besides, it doesn’t hurt that Mr. Tim was best friends with my son, growing up.  He keeps me looped in.”

Wow.  Things just keep getting weirder.  “Thanks,” I answered.  “I had no idea.”

“I don’t tell many people.  It’s none of their business,” she said before pivoting.  “Now, have you thought about a story you could submit for those contests we talked about last week?”

“Yes, actually.  I’ve been grounded, so that’s something I’ve worked on to kill time,” I explained.  “I had this idea, about a kid like me, who is, you know… gay.  Except he isn’t dealing with it very well.  He gets outed at school dance,” I answered.

“Ah.  Art imitating life.  Sometimes the best ideas are drawn from personal experiences.  Go on.”

“Well, this kid, Brian, writes a note to a boy he is pretty sure is also gay, telling him about his crush.  He meant for it to be anonymous, but the kid recognizes his handwriting and makes fun of him in front of everyone.  Brian is distraught.  Then he gets bullied and nobody has his back - like you or Mr. Tim have mine.”

“Sounds rough.  I hope it has a happy ending.”

“Eventually.  He is desperate and finds his way onto a bridge late at night.  He’s going to jump.”

“Oh?” she answered.  “That sounds dark.  Please tell me that’s not something you’ve considered.  Too many gay youth consider ending their life, as if it’s the only solution.”

“No ma’am.  Quitting gymnastics is the only crazy thing I’ve thought about.  But that was before Cam and I reconciled.  I’m good, really.”

She seemed unconvinced, or at least still concerned.  “Are you sure?” she demanded.

“Honest,” I said. 

“Then tell me more about your story,” she encouraged.

“Well, on the bridge he meets a man who is there to do the same thing.  He’s lost too, for what I haven’t quite figured out yet, but instead of jumping they start talking and end up in a diner having coffee and hot chocolate and talking for hours.  That’s all I have so far.  They basically save each other by becoming friends, maybe even more eventually.  Too corny?”

“Not corny, but somewhat formulae.  It’s been done before, but it sounds intriguing.  However, it’s not the type of theme normally submitted for an eighth-grade writing contest.  It might be considered too heavy.  Of course, it could still be a fantastic story.”

“Oh,” I answered, somewhat disappointed.

“Never waste an idea.  If you can’t use it now, maybe you will write it in two years, or five, or even ten!  Make great notes.  Perhaps there’s something else you can write about, or find a way to soften your idea so it’s not so intense.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. 

“I hope I haven’t discouraged you.  I know you are a good writer with tremendous potential.  I just don’t want you to submit something that will be dismissed because the content is too mature.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I get it.” I answered.

“You better get back to Timothy,” she said.  It was still strange to have her refer to him so familiarly.  “I look forward to having you back in class on Thursday.”

***

The next 24 hours were uneventful.  Other than some jerk on my bus Tuesday afternoon asking me how much I charged for a blow job, nobody else tried to mess with me.  I told him there wasn’t enough money in the world.  He’s gross.  I stuck close to Ashley the next morning.  I wonder if her presence deterred anyone from trying to poke fun at me?  Perhaps nobody wanted to be the target of her ire.

Mr. Tim pulled me aside again, mid-morning.  Hickman had told him about my story idea and he wanted to make 100 percent sure I wasn’t suicidal and offered to call my counselor.  I had no idea just having a story idea would cause so much concern, but I was glad to know people cared and were looking out for me.  I assured him I was not that despondent.  Like Hickman, he reiterated he was there for me if I needed him.

Spencer must have remembered his meds, because he was a completely different kid on Wednesday.  It was crazy how calm he was the entire day.  I’d like to take credit, but I am pretty sure it was his Ritalin.  Or maybe he had an epic prostate massage before school and was sedated. 

I had very little work to do on Wednesday, so I got even further into the book.  It was getting intense.  Dantes was beginning to exact revenge on those that sent him to prison with elaborate schemes.  It made me think about Chad and ways I could get even with him.  I doubt I could ruin him financially like Dantes had done to Danglars, but still - there had to be something that could be done.  Maybe I just need to put Ashley on the job. 

I was crazy with anticipation, knowing I would see Cam at the first night of gymnastics practice.  I was so excited - it felt like I was awaiting Christmas morning, except my gift was Cam’s familiar, unencumbered embrace.  I couldn't wait to talk to him freely.  I just hoped Mom manages to get off early so she can get me there early and that his parents do the same.

***

Mom came through.  She got home super early and fixed me a light snack of cottage cheese with pretzels and fresh pineapple.  I could tell she was genuinely elated for me.  She told me she planned to return my phone by the weekend, which made me even happier.  Everything was looking up!

I was more than 30 minutes early and the gym was fairly empty, which was fine.  I talked with my coaches.  They asked me a lot of questions about my ankle, which I assured them was fine.

Ian arrived soon after and we caught up.  He started at a different middle school and seemed to be transitioning well.  The whole time we were talking, my eye was on the door.  Jake and Ryan arrived next and gave us a recap of their summer, including subtle hints they both lost their virginity.  I briefly wondered if it was to one another.  Was Ashley right?  Of course, they definitely gave off a straight vibe.  I’d seen them coming or going a few times this summer, but I hadn’t said more than a few words to either.  Of course, I was looking for Cam the whole time they were bragging and honestly, I half tuned out.

Spencer showed up about five minutes before start time.  He immediately looked around.  “Hey, Where’s Cam?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered, anxiously.  “He’s probably just running late.  You know how his mom is.”  She can be frenzied, but he wasn’t usually late.  He was often the last to arrive, but still gave himself time to prep before we began.  I was beginning to worry.

Coach called us into a circle.  I was hoping he might know where Cam was.  But his first question was “Where’s Rice?”  Nobody had heard from him, so we all looked concerned.  “I know he’s grounded and doesn’t have his phone,” I explained.  “But I thought he would be here,” I added, almost getting emotional. 

“Well, we can’t wait all night.  Let’s get started with some stretching.”  I was starting to panic.  What if Cam’s mom did something crazy?  What if she made him change gyms?  What if she made him quit?  Or worse, what if she’s shipping him to some fucked up ‘camp’ to fix him?

I tried to focus, but it was nearly impossible.  I kept hoping there was a reasonable explanation.  When we got drinks, I asked Ian and Spencer if one of them could text Cam for me.  I didn’t think he had his phone, but it was worth a shot, right?  Ian volunteered and sent a message.  By the time our short break was over, he hadn’t received a response.

At the end of our first session, Ian checked his phone.  He just shook his head at me.  I didn’t ask, but presumed Spencer told him about what happened between us because he seemed to understand my distress.

Spencer tried to console me.  “I’m sure he’s just sick or something,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.  I wish it could be that simple, but knew it wasn’t.  I felt something deep down telling me something was wrong. 

I barely got through.  I was off on everything I tried.  Coach got on me, asking again if my ankle had actually recovered.  Spencer chimed in and told him I was just worried about Cam.  He shook his head.  He was who warned us about our relationship not messing up team chemistry. 

When we wrapped up, I grabbed my bag and bolted.  I spotted Mom’s car and ran to it and jumped into the passenger seat and lost it, tears streaming down my face.  Everything was starting to go so well, and then bam, just like that - it sucks… AGAIN.

*** End of Chapter 32 ***

Author’s Notes:

If you can’t wait to find out what’s going on with Cam, it was revealed already in the last chapter of Craig’s version of the story:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/maxs-freudian-slip/maxs-freudian-slip-31.html

Comments as always encouraged and very much appreciated: craigpnifty@protonmail.com