Date: Sun, 13 Jul 2014 08:53:47 -0700
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Puget Posse  Chapter 18

Welcome back, and thanks for returning. This chapter has the Posse
boys starting to get into a school routine. They also find out that
routine was going to be tested by the upcoming challenge set up by
their eighth grade guides. Are they going to be ready for the seamy
side of the Puget Academy?

All of the disclaimers remain true. This is my story. Be 18 to read it.

Please contribute to the Nifty Archive. Keep the stories rolling.

Douglas at thehakaanen@hotmail.com


CHAPTER 18
FINDING A ROUTINE

The next two days of school had the boys trying to find a routine, both
in school and out of it. The fifth grade core classes were on the first
floor of the old school building. Sixth grade core had two core classes
located on the first floor and the third on the second floor. The second
floor contained the library, the core classrooms for seventh and
eighth grades, plus two other classrooms. The third floor had the
science rooms and other classrooms.

Fifth grade core covered five of the seven periods, and consisted of
English, math, reading, social studies, and study skills. The fifth
graders were in the core classroom all day, except for lunch, science,
and their seventh period elective classes. Their science period
depended on which class they were in. For Mr. Jackson's class it was
fifth period.

One of the highlights of the week was getting paid their bonus credits
for their performances in the scavenger hunt. All of the students
received a weekly allowance plus bonus credits.

The Puget Posse found out on the second day of school that they
would be working together very closely. "Part of study skills is
learning how to work independently," Mr. Jackson told them. "But
another important skill is being able to work together. As a result you
will be getting a project for your team to complete. The due date will
be the first Monday in December. Be sure to put that on your
calendars."

"Calendars?" a weak voice popped up.

"Yes, calendars. That will be our first lesson: how to organize a study
calendar." Mr. Jackson went right to work on the lesson, inviting a
great deal of discussion and student participation.

The twins sat with Will and Luke at lunch. Mark and Matthew liked
their two classmates from the Fantastic Five and were attracted to
their confident, assertive behavior, and the feeling was mutual.

"Are you really going to show your dick to everybody when we do the
measuring?" Lucas asked.

"Why not?" Matthew answered. "It's not like none of us has seen a
dick before."

"What about a boner? Are you going to let somebody see you with a
boner?" Will asked. "Curt said we got to measure our boners."

"Duh, we're twin brothers," Mark answered. "We show each other
everything."

"I think that is a yes," Lucas said. "I've never seen anybody else's
boner before. It's going to be weird seeing one."

"Do you want to see mine?" Matthew asked.

"Here? In the lunchroom?"

"Why not? I'll just keep it under the table. It's not like peeps have x-
ray vision and can see through it."

Even though he badly wanted to see what Matthew had, Lucas was
afraid of their being caught. He said he would wait for the day they
did their measurement to see his first boner.

"It helps to be prepared," Mark said. "What about you, Will? Have you
seen a boner?"

"I've got a big brother," he giggled, which answered the question in
everybody's minds.

Patrick was happy when Misha asked him and Neville to eat lunch
with him. The Posse had split up for lunch the day before, eating with
other boys in their class. It was almost as if they wanted to show their
independence from each other the first chance they got.

"Why do we not all eat together?" Misha asked, looking in the
direction of the twins. "We are a team."

"Just because we got put on the same team does not mean we are
required to like each other and be friends," Neville pointed out.

"We should be," Patrick said. "It would be easier to do the big project
Mr. Jackson gives us if we all liked each other. We need to sit
together and talk to do that."

"First of all, I will never like the twins. Second, you have a lot of
opinions for somebody who is only nine."

"What does being nine have to do with anything?" Patrick asked. "I'm
as smart as anybody here." Brian would have been proud had he
heard that little boast of confidence from his son. Neville didn't have a
comeback and concentrated on his lunch.

As soon as Mr. Jackson had told the class about the project, Neville
had cringed inside. There was no way he wanted his standing in the
class to be dependent on cooperating with the loud-mouth twins and
the know-it-all boy who thought he was Irish. He was ambivalent
about the Russian.

Patrick, on the other hand, got along with almost everybody. He had
enjoyed having lunch with Vic and Hank the day before. Both boys
were on the four boy Jumping Kangaroo team in Mr. Jackson's room.
Vic was Vietnamese and was on partial scholarship. His father owned
a Vietnamese Pho restaurant . Hank was African-American and his
father was a cardiologist. He was certain he'd be sitting with them or
doing other things with them again. He liked them both.

On the day before, Misha had sat with the other two boys from the
Kangaroos plus a third boy, Ned, who was on the X-Brains team. He
said little as he ate and tried to translate their slang and idioms in his
head. Most of what they said had made sense, but some of their
conversation had him totally lost.

Misha felt much more comfortable sitting with Neville and Patrick,
especially Patrick. Neville confused him. The English boy could be
stuck-up and hard to deal with one moment and friendly and helpful
the next. He wanted to like Neville, but it wasn't an easy thing to do.
Riding the same bus with him was helping to narrow the gap between
the two of them. Misha felt confident the two could become friends.

It was different with Patrick. Misha wanted to be more than friends
with the young boy; he wanted to be best friends. Patrick might only
be nine, but his intelligence and demeanor made him seem more
mature than a lot of the fifth graders he had met so far at the
Academy, especially Jeremiah. Jeremiah reminded him of the
assholes he had known at the orphanage. Misha was determined to
meet him head on, just like he had the assholes, if need be.

"It was very nice seeing you at Wild Waves, Patrick," Misha said.
Misha and Neville both noted Patrick's deep red blush. Neville wasn't
certain why Patrick should be embarrassed, but Misha knew exactly
why the little brunette had blushed.

Patrick recovered quickly, however. "It was nice seeing all of you
there, too." This time it was Misha's turn to blush. "You can call me
Pat, you know. You don't have to call me Patrick."

"You are more like a Patrick, not like a Pat," Misha said.

"And, you don't sound as Irish," Neville said.

"What's with you and the Irish?" Mark asked. He had come over from
his lunch table and caught Neville's comment.

"The Irish and the English have never liked each other," Neville said.

"Well, go back to England; you can be pissed off at them there. But
it's all cool here, especially on St. Patrick's Day."

"I bet Neville will be absent on that day," Patrick said.

"He better be sure he wears green," Mark said. "Or I'll pinch his ass."

Neville glared at Mark, as once again he was appalled by the crudity
of one of the twins.

"I was just checking in. See you guys in class." Mark scurried back to
the table where he'd eaten. He said something to the others at his
table that had them all laughing loudly.

"What did you mean when you said you saw all of Misha?" Neville
asked Patrick.

"It meant we were in the changing room," Patrick said.

Neville gave that a moment's thought, and then it became his turn to
blush.

++++++++++++

Patrick waited at the curb for his bus. Monday morning was sunny
and warm, which pleased him since he had soccer practice for his
club team that afternoon. Today, at lunch, there would be a meeting
for all of the fifth graders who were interested in school soccer.
Patrick enjoyed soccer and was looking forward to playing on both
teams. He just hoped he would have enough time to do both.

Even though this was only the fourth day of school, the homework
was already starting to pile up. He was happy that their Study Skills
class would not only help him with organizational skills, but on some
days would provide time to do the work. Mr. Jackson had told them
that watching how they went about their tasks would help him
evaluate how well they used their time.

Patrick was pleased to see Will board the bus. His new friend sat in
the empty seat next to him. The pair traded fist bumps. They were
both wearing powder blue polo shirts with a pelican over the pocket
and dark blue shorts, a combination that was permitted when the
calendar said "uniform/casual". The first week of school had been
"uniform/formal". Both fifth graders were quickly learning about living
by the school calendar, as were their parents.

"Are you all set for the soccer meeting?" Will asked.

"Yep, I have all of my paperwork in my backpack," Patrick said
proudly.

"Me too. We won't be playing nearly as many games as my
Northwest Soccer Club team, but it should be fun."

"I'm on a Northwest team, too," Patrick said. "The Kickers." While
Patrick had played youth soccer, this was his first year playing for one
of the prestigious Northwest Soccer Club teams. He had turned out at
the insistence of his father and his old coach. Patrick didn't think he
was good enough to make one of the club's teams, but he found out
quickly that he was wrong. What he didn't know is that the club had
awarded him a partial scholarship against his fees, something his
father had kept secret.

"I know some kids on your team. I'm on the Red Devils. This my
second year on that team. We won the area championship last year."

"It's my first year," was all Patrick could think to say.

When Jeremiah boarded the bus, Tony wasn't with him. Tony had
ridden the bus again on Thursday, but was not with Jeremiah on
Friday. "I guess his parents got to work things out with the school or
something," he told everybody when asked about Tony's absence.

Jeremiah sat in the seat in front of Will and Patrick. He surprised
them both by actually being friendly. They chatted a bit and Will
asked if he was going to be at the lunch soccer meeting.

"Oh, hell no," Jeremiah said, making Patrick cringe slightly. He found
the crude language of the twins to be part of their charm, but with
Jeremiah it left him feeling cold. "I quit soccer last year. They made
us run too much in practice."

"For real?" the ever trusting Patrick asked.

"Hell, yes." Patrick wondered if Jeremiah had fallen in love with "hell".
"That's why I like baseball the best. No running laps and stuff like
that."

The boys who were going to attend the soccer meeting had all been
asked to bring their lunches from home to avoid the wait in the school
lunch line. One thing the fifth graders had quickly discovered is that
the school website had not been bragging when it declared the hot
lunches to be excellent. They were indeed, very good, while
managing to be nutritious as well.

The soccer meeting had a good turnout. Twenty boys attended, a
decent percentage of the 65 fifth graders at the Academy. Most of
them had soccer playing experience, but some did not. The meeting
was in one of the two classrooms in the new gymnasium.

Coach Joe Walsh looked at his charges. Coach Walsh had played
college soccer at a small college, but wasn't good enough to go any
further. He still played on a top amateur men's team. He had never
coached youth soccer before, but his brother did and would be his
resource. Coach Walsh was a friend of the Coach Williams, who was
one of two physical education teachers at the school, the Academy
athletic director, as well as the eighth grade soccer coach.

Coach Walsh knew the job would be low key. Participation was
emphasized over winning. After the first week of turnouts they would
only be practicing once or twice a week along with playing a game.
The season was only six games long. He was told that most of his
players would not be skilled players and that the skilled ones
probably played for youth teams. He was also told that the youth
teams' schedules took priority over the school's, but most coaches
were cooperative about letting their players miss practice for a school
game if he did a good enough job of ass-kissing.

The boys learned that the first practice would be after school on
Thursday and were told what they needed to do beforehand. The
above information was disseminated in an understandable fashion.
Coach Walsh then asked if there were any questions. He didn't
expect any because he felt he had explained everything adequately.
But his meetings with Coach Williams, as well as his certification
workshop, had not prepared him for the world of ten-year-olds,
especially bright and audacious ten year olds.

He saw a hand go up. The hand belonged to Matthew, and as soon
as the coach called on him his education began. "Coach, why is it the
teams in this school suck all the time?" The first thing that flashed
through Coach Walsh's mind was the advice of Coach Williams:
"Don't hesitate. Never let them think they know more than you do,
even if they do."

"The teams here are actually pretty good. We have a lot of good
players and we give everyone a chance to play."

"But if we're good how come we hardly win any games?" Mark asked,
grabbing the torch from his brother.

"Maybe, if you're good enough, you can do something about that. I
will guarantee you that I am a good enough coach to make you a
good team." What he didn't tell them was that it wasn't in his job
description to win games. He was instructed to develop skills. Those
who wanted the competition could get it playing for their club teams.

His answer seemed to satisfy the twins. After a few more questions
followed by some housekeeping items the meeting broke up. Later,
Coach Walsh talked to Coach Williams about the questions. "Sounds
to me you did a good job. I've already heard some things about those
twins. If you can get the last word in with those two you are on the
path to earning their respect.

Although they didn't sit together, the entire Posse was at the meeting.
As the fifth graders were finishing their lunches, Paul came into the
room. He gathered the five Posse members together.

"Hey, Paul," Mark said. "What's up?"

"I was hoping you'd all be here," Paul said. "I have something for you
about the challenge."

"I thought you forgot about that." Matthew said.

"I told you that Curt and I were serious about it."

"Yeah, because you're a couple of sex fiends," Mark said.

"It takes one to know one," Neville said.

"I guess you must have news for us," Patrick said.

"I do." Paul pulled some papers out of his notebook and handed one
to each of the Posse members. "These are your instructions. We will
do this at lunch on Friday, so bring your own lunches."

"Where are we doing it?" Neville asked.

"Just meet at the place on the instructions, and we'll show you the
rest. Memorize your instructions and destroy those sheets. Eat them
if you have to, but don't let anybody but you or Curt's team see them.
I gotta get going since this isn't my lunch time." He left the room
before they could ask any more questions.

The five Posse members sat together and read over the instruction
sheet. "It says there are three phases to the challenge, and we have
to win two of them," Misha said.

"Who thought this shit up?" Mark asked. He and Matthew had
recently taken up cussing full time. They here hoping it made them
sound as grown up as the older kids in the school. There was no way
they wanted to be looked upon as innocent, naïve ten-year-old fifth
graders. The school had strict rules regarding bad language, so they
had to be careful when they thought dirty language was called for.

The instruction sheet said that each of them would have their "piece
of equipment" measured. The best team total measurement would
win that phase. Curt and Paul's measurements would be part of the
total. They would then be randomly matched up with one person on
the other team for a one-on-one size challenge. The team with the
most points would win that phase. If there was a tie between the two
phases, then phase three would be a tiebreaker. What it consisted of
wouldn't be revealed until the day of the challenge.

"I wonder who will be biggest?" Patrick asked, remembering his
interest in size when he played around with Zane.

"Who cares?" Neville asked. "This is all so infantile."

"Ya think?" Mark asked. "Could you maybe speak real English when
you talk?"

"Yeah," Matthew said. "You could say this is all bullshit, instead of
infant whatever." Matthew's comment got everyone giggling, even
Neville, who could no longer maintain his dour expression.

"So, if we both win a phase then it would be a tie," Misha said.

If Neville had said something that obvious the twins would have
knocked him down a notch, but they liked the quiet Russian so much
there was no way they would try to knock him down. He and Patrick
had both entered their protective realm, meaning the twins saw them
as their friends.

"I think Paul and Curt will break the tie," Misha went on, trying to
explain why he had stated the obvious.

"Great, but how? It doesn't tell us how they will break a tie," Mark
said. "They will already know who's the biggest, so how do they break
the tie."

"I guess we'll have to tie the Fucking Five to find out," Matthew said.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Must you continually be so crass? They are
the Fantastic Five."

"Neville loves that word, crass," Mark said. "Now me and Matthew
gotta look it up."

"Thoughtless, vulgar, and insensitive as to lack all refinement or
delicacy," Patrick said.

"Looks like somebody already looked it up," Mark said.

"If that's what it means then it sounds like Neville knows what we're
all about," Matthew said. As much as the twins got under Neville's
skin, he had to admit they were not boring. Misha and Patrick thought
the same things. They were each becoming quite fond of the two.

"I noticed the dickhead wasn't at the soccer meeting," Matthew said
to no one in particular.

"Dickhead?" Misha asked, both because he had no idea what the
term meant or who Matthew was talking about.

"Jeremiah."

"He said on the bus he wasn't going to come because he had to run
too much," Patrick said.

"He probably was afraid of me and Mark tripping his ass in practice
every day."

"Dickhead?" Misha asked again.

"Think about it," Matthew said.

Misha blushed and grinned. "Oh, a not polite term. That would make
it crass."

"You're pretty smart for a Russian dude," Mark said as he grabbed
Misha and gave him a noogie, creating a howl of giggles.

After school that day Will sat next to Patrick on the bus. "I hope that
soccer coach knows what he's talking about," Will said as they waited
for the bus to load.

"I think he will be okay," Patrick said since he couldn't come up with a
reason to think otherwise.

"The twins really got to him."

"He answered their questions."

"Like I said, I hope he knows what he is talking about."

Jeremiah boarded the bus and passed the two. "I heard the soccer
coach is pretty lame. Makes me really glad I didn't go."

"It is a good thing," Patrick said. "He said everybody whose name
started with the letter J would have to run twice as much as
everybody else." The influence of the twins had Patrick getting into
trash talking.

"Hey, Jeremiah, did you get your elevator ticket refund yet?" a voice
in the back called out.

Jeremiah ignored the voice and looked down at Patrick. "I just want
you to know that the first chance I get to beat you up, I'm gonna turn
you into a bloody pulp."

"Why don't you say that to the kid in the back?" Will asked. "Maybe
it's because he's bigger than you?"

"Both of you better be careful."

"Jeremiah, would you please take a seat," Mrs. Deaver called out.
Jeremiah turned and scowled at her, then sat next to a sixth grader
two rows behind Patrick and Will.

"What a dork," Will said.

"Mark and Matthew said he likes bullying and beating up people,"
Patrick said.

"I dare him to try it on me." Will was a solid, athletic kid. Patrick, with
his skinny nine-year-old body didn't feel nearly as confident. He
would just as soon stay away from Jeremiah and his friend Tony.

"Curt gave us Fantastic guys a sheet of paper about Friday. Did Paul
give you one?" Will asked.

"Yes."

"Everybody on the Fantastics hopes to get matched up with you on
the second part. They all figure you have the smallest...," he dropped
to a whisper, "...cock." Like many of the other fifth graders, Will was
already graduating from saying wiener and peter. Being around Curt
and Paul and their challenge was quickly altering their mindset.

"Mine's not that small," Patrick said. He only had Misha to compare
his to as far as his peers went, and he had seen it from a distance.
But, he didn't think Misha looked much bigger than him, and maybe
he wasn't bigger at all.

"Mine's not huge. Maybe we might end up being matched up. That
would make it interesting."

"Don't you want to win?"

"Sure I do, but we all want to see what Curt and Paul are going to do
if there is a tie. Besides, you could be bigger than me. Mine is two
and three-quarters when I get a hard-on."

"You measured yours?" Patrick asked, somewhat astounded by Will's
confession.

"Sure, don't you?"

"I never thought of it."

"I didn't either, but then my brother told me to. He said it will start
growing a lot pretty soon and I should keep track of it. He's fourteen
and knows a lot of stuff."

"I wonder how big mine is?" Patrick asked, his curiosity aroused.

"Want to compare them?" Will asked.

"Here? On the bus?"

"We could cover them with our hoodies." The September morning
had been crisp and both boys had worn hoodies, which immediately
identified them as fifth graders, since they were not Puget Academy
hoodies. While everyone had to buy their own uniforms (except full
scholarship students, who had the basic uniforms provided), every
year the fifth graders received hoodies as a welcome to the Academy
gift from a fund provided by the adult alumni. Their measurements
had been taken at orientation and now the fifth graders were eagerly
awaiting the arrival of the prized hoodies.

Patrick felt a sense of excitement at the thought of being naughty on
the bus. "Just real quick, and you show yours first."

"You need to have a boner first," Will said knowingly.  "That's how
they're going to measure it."

"Do you have one?"

"I have since we started talking about this. Don't you?"

"Not yet." Patrick wished he could repeat the instant boner he'd
gotten at Wild Waves when he saw Misha, but he couldn't make it
happen. He knew if he rubbed himself he should be able to get one,
so he stuck his right hand into his right pocket and played some
pocket pool. Between that and the excitement of exposing himself to
Will it took him less than a minute to get hard.

While Patrick worked on himself, Will slowly unbuttoned his brown
khaki uniform pants, did some manipulations, then, with his hoodie
covering his lap, unzipped. "You gotta look quick," Will whispered
hoarsely. He lifted up the edge of his hoodie, showing Patrick the cut
two-and-three-quarter inch boy boner sticking out of the pee hole of
his boxers. Patrick nodded and his own little member went from kind
of hard to rock hard in an instant.

Will quickly covered himself, looking around to see if anybody had
seen him, then slowly worked himself back together. Patrick covered
himself and unzipped slowly. Patrick thought each crackle of zipper
sounded like a firecracker exploding and waited for everybody sitting
around them to turn and look at him. As soon as his zipper was down
he unbuttoned his pants and slipped his briefs under his tiny ball sac.

"Ready," he said. Will took a look as Patrick opened the side of his
hoodie. His exposure was a little bit more daring since he was
opening his pants on the side that faced the aisle.

Will looked at Patrick's cut boner and whispered, "Nice." Patrick
quickly covered himself back up and, like Will, awkwardly got himself
zipped and buttoned up.

"You said mine was nice," Patrick said as he finished. "What do you
mean by nice?"

Will blushed and said he was talking about how they might be close
in size. Patrick didn't believe him, but he let it go.

Patrick couldn't tell if he was close to Will's size, but he was
determined to measure himself when he got home.

"That was fun," Will said.

"I'm never doing that again." Patrick said.

"You mean showing me your dick? You might have to on Friday."

"No, I mean showing it on the bus."

"Why not? My brother told me the seventh and eighth graders do it all
the time in the back. They even jerk off back there. He said he did it
and was always scared Mrs. Deaver would catch them. She never
did."

Patrick looked at Will, not believing a word of what he said. Will
grinned and said, "Trust me it's true. And they don't even cover them
with hoodies."

Patrick shook his head no, indicating he wasn't falling for that story
any more than he had fallen for buying elevator tickets.

"Well, brother or no brother, I'm not doing it again either," Will said.
"You're right, it's way scary."

The bus arrived at Jeremiah's stop. As he passed Will and Patrick he
gave them a sneer and said, "You guys better be watching your
backs."

"I'm glad he's not in our class," Will said as Jeremiah left the bus.

"I just wish he wasn't in my school," Patrick said. Will nodded in
agreement.

When they got to Will's stop, Will and Patrick traded fist bumps. Mrs.
Deaver stopped Will at the door and said something to him, causing
him to blush. Patrick wondered what she'd said to him.

At his own stop, Patrick found out. Mrs. Deaver stopped him, too.
"Keep it in your pants, Patrick. That behavior is for the back seats."
Patrick felt his body heat up as he blushed from head to toe. Thinking
about it later he realized that Will must have been right about what
went on at the back of the bus.

The rest of the week zipped by quickly. At their first practice, the fifth
graders found out that Coach Walsh and his old college buddy,
Coach Hardy, did know their stuff when it came to soccer. In fact,
some of the players who were on club and travel teams found
themselves learning some things they didn't know.

Another thing that was to have an effect on the Posse was the work
being done in the main office by Mr. Carter, who was in charge of
transportation. He made a couple of changes regarding who rode
which of the three buses to make the routing more efficient. He also
called the parents of some of the boys who lived too far out to send a
bus their way. He pointed out that their sons could ride if the parents
were willing do drop them off at one of the other rider's houses. This
could save them considerable time as well as money over the long
haul.

As a result, he acted on the request of Tony's parents, and assigned
him to the bus he rode the first day of school. He would board at
Jeremiah's house. Tony's parents found out that at the Puget
Academy, the best way to get what you wanted was to go through
proper channels. Tony and Jeremiah were happy with the decision.

Mr. Carter noticed that even though he'd assigned Tony to Bus 2,
there were still two available seats. He also saw how far out in the
sticks the Kirkwood twins lived. He was surprised his parents enrolled
them at the Puget Academy when there were excellent private
schools much closer, including North Lake, which the twins had been
attending. But, it was their money, and the Puget Academy was a top
school as well as unique. They weren't the only family that lived a
goodly distance from the school.

When he finished his work with the twins, he had them riding Bus 2
and being dropped off at Patrick Gardner's house, the closest home
to where they lived. The changes would start effective Monday
morning.

While many things were already starting to become routine for the
fifth graders and for the Posse, the challenge on Friday was definitely
not routine. Each member of the Posse and the Fantastic Five
brought his own lunch to school for a lunch-time session that the boys
told their parents had to do with learning about the student council. It
turned out there was enough truth to that to keep it from being an
outright lie.

Whatever the reason, ten fifth graders started Friday morning with a
mix of apprehension and hormone induced erections, depending on
who they were or how they felt at the moment. Some of them felt
sexually charged, some of them felt  that showing their dick to two
older boys seemed exciting, and a couple of them, now that the day
had arrived, where frightened and wished they'd never agreed to
participate.

One boy who was eager was the nine-year-old in the batch, Patrick.
He'd measured himself as soon as he got home after he and Will had
flashed each other on the bus. He was just a bit over two-and-a-half
inches, very close to what Will claimed to be. He hoped he'd be
matched against Will, whom he might have a chance of beating.

He also wondered if there was a way to stretch his boner to make it
longer. He even called his Uncle Roy to ask about it, without
explaining why he was asking. The only answer he got was a loud,
long laugh. "Fuck, Wombat, you ask the craziest questions. Just why
do you want to know how to make your dick longer?"

"I can't tell you right now."

"Well, I can't wait to find out the reason. But, no, the only way your
boner is going to be bigger is for you to keep growing. I don't know if
that helps you or not."

"It doesn't." Roy's laugh made Patrick feel stupid and ignorant. "Are
you still going to give me sex lessons?"

"You bet, because it sure sounds like you need them."

Patrick boarded the bus on Friday morning with his hoodie pulled
down over his waist to cover up the fact that he had a boner, not that
anybody could notice anyway. Like everybody else involved, he was
wondering where the twelve of them were going to meet for the
challenge. And, like almost everybody else, he was excited about
getting really naughty in school for the first time.

Next: Challenges